Wounds
The cords of death entangled me; the torrents of destruction overwhelmed me. The cords of the grave coiled around me; the snares of death confronted me. In my distress I called to the Lord; I cried to my God for help. From his temple he heard my voice; my cry came before him, into his ears… He reached down from on high and took hold of me; he drew me out of deep waters.
Psalm 18: 4-6, 16
Prologue
I have imagined myself drowning, frozen and dying so many times that it seems real.
If all your life you have been sleeping: voiceless and soulless, numb, nothing, as if you were dead, tied, frozen at the bottom of the sea, and then someone looks into you, calls you, rescues you, awakens you, would you not respond to him? If you know that this person loves you and you love him, would give everything to follow him?
Before I knew him, I have lived my life as a shadow. I have lived my life as a mould being shaped by others, until he called me. Before him, I was nothing. When he called me, he breathed life into my dead soul. For this reason, I have decided to follow him, and to end many lives for him. For him, I have willingly killed my own soul.
As a blade was raised to chop my head off, I looked desperately to him: perhaps he would rescue me once more. Perhaps there was still hope for me and for him, even if he has turned his back on me. My eyes wandered to my executioner, whose eyes and lips, even under his metallic chin exhibited delight in my torment. I closed my eyes and waited for my executioner's blade to sear through my neck.
--Aranel Stari, Jedi Exile