They faced each other amidst the wreckage. Both were bleeding profusely; they carried the scars of conflict, severe and minor, new and old. Both had been fighting with all they had; they both were skilled combatants, and tired. One fought for what she believed in; the other fought because he did not believe. One was wearing the stunned expression of a woman who has just realized her utter defeat; the other was wearing the triumphant expression of a man who has vanquished countless enemies, and has just beaten his worst.
The Sword of the Jedi, and the Lord of the Sith faced each other amidst the wreckage. The Jedi fought because of her beliefs, because of her strength of will, because of the evil she believed must be stopped; the Sith fought because he did not believe, because his will had been broken and reshaped, because he believed that evil did not exist, and must therefore not be stopped. They were both alone, now, at the end of all things.
The Sword of the Jedi believed that the Sith were evil, that evil was real and embodied in the man across from her. The Lord of the Sith believed that he was a gardener, and that evil did not exist. The Jedi believed that her duty was to stand between the Dark and those it would harm. The Sith believed that his purpose and right was to shape the galaxy as he willed, destroying anything that stood against him.
The Jedi, through unbearable suffering, had remained steadfast in what she believed. The Sith, through unbearable suffering, had learned to reject what he had learned, because he had learned it; he believed that he should abandon what he had believed, because he had believed it.
The Jedi was alone because of who she was – the Sword. Those who would have stood beside her were dead, injured, or unavailable. The Sith was alone because of who he was – the self-appointed Gardener. Those who would have stood beside him now stood before him, and had been doing so for some time.
The Sith radiated hatred, power, and victory.
The Jedi radiated courage, determination…and defeat.
The Sith wielded a weapon of his own design and build, unique in its combinant technology of lightsaber, amphistaff, and lightwhip, a symbolic representation of Jedi, Yuuzhan Vong, and Sith. It symbolized his nature; to learn what he chose where he chose, rejecting all but what he chose to choose.
The Jedi wielded a weapon of her lost brother's design and build, a symbolic amalgamation of Jedi and Yuuzhan Vong, to replace her own lost weapon. It symbolized her nature; a weapon that harmonized seeming opposites, seeking a way to allow two to live together in Light, ready and able to withstand the Dark.
Only one could leave this battleground alive.
The Sith held the dark side of the Force, savoring its touch, its power.
The Jedi held nothing.
The Sword of the Jedi stood before the Lord of the Sith amidst the wreckage, cut off from the Force she served. The Lord of the Sith stalked the Sword of the Jedi amidst the wreckage, embracing the Force that he used to eliminate those he considered 'weeds.'
The Lord of the Sith spoke first. "When I was cut off from the Force, it made me stronger. You, though; every time I cut one of you off, you flounder, helpless and weak, stunned and directionless."
The Sword of the Jedi stared at him, unable to believe what he had done. Victory had been hers; the battle had been won, both against her brother, and against herself. Justice had prevailed; the guilty had stood condemned, the Light had defeated the Darkness. Love had prevailed; mercy had been extended, Light triumphing over Darkness inside of her. The decision was left to him; which to face, Justice or Love? Which to embrace, Darkness or Light?
So she had thought. Had he not chosen love, justice would have been dispensed. But in choosing something other than love, he had done something unexpected; weaponless, with his tricks defeated, he had produced one more. He had rejected her offer, rejected her love, and lashed out. She had been prepared for any attack but the one he had used; and now, she was cut off from the Force. The man who had once been Jacen Solo now stood where she had stood moments earlier – the enemy defeated, with all weapons useless.
"You've lost, Jaina. You could have won, a moment ago – but the same flaw that defeats the Jedi every time defeated another. Weakness, trust in your silly philosophy. I've used it as a weapon against Jedi, against my old friends, against my old family; and every time, it has won. You gave me a choice a moment ago; come back to the Light, or continue in the Dark and die. Now I offer you a choice; turn and run, or stand and defy. Both end the same way; you will die. But I'm interested in the result – which will you choose? Because, you see, now you don't have the Force. So your philosophy collapses; you've got nothing to rely on."
"I still have one thing to rely on. Strong or weak, Force or not, I am a Jedi. And as such I stand."
He sneered at her. "I said something very like that once. But you're not a Jedi; you don't serve the Force. The Force has nothing to do with you; or can't you feel it?"
"I serve the Force, Jacen; I stand in your way."
His rage flashed again; an invisible wall hit her, and she flew backwards, losing her lightsaber in the process. She spun in the air, reflexively reaching for the Force to stop her fall, regain her weapon. Of course, she could no longer touch the Force, cut off by whatever the Dark Lord had done to her., so neither proved effectual, and she slammed into the wall, the impact leaving her stunned and breathless.
"That name is dead to me! That person is dead to me!" He stalked toward her, slowly, taking his time. She stood, slowly, and limped away from him, over to where her lightsaber had fallen. By the time she reached it, Jacen was only meters away, and coming closer by the moment.
"He was weak, foolish! He could not do what needed to be done; so I gave him up, did what he never would have done. Give it up, Jaina; your brother is never coming back to you. He's as dead as you're about to be."
The familiar grip of the weapon that her brother had wielded felt heavier than normal, clumsy. Still, she held it before her, facing the Sith, and ignited it.
His mocking laughter rang out clearly. "Cut off from the Force, beaten and bruised...you still try to defend yourself. With a lightsaber. How quaint." He sneered mockingly. "Did you know, a lightsaber is like a Jedi? It has no edge to cut with; yet at its heart, it is nothing but edge! Likewise, you refuse to acknowledge what you could be, what you should be."
She crossed the intervening space and swung at him. Without the Force, the blow felt weak, unguided, random. His strange weapon – a combination of amphistaff, lightsaber, and lightwhip, somehow managing to be all and none of those weapons – became rigid as it rose with eye-blurring swiftness, interposing itself between her saber and its target. He made no attempt to push back her blade, or to strike at her; he simply held it there. She withdrew and cut again, with the same result.
He looked deep into her eyes. "I never expected you to get this far, Jaina. I underestimated you, again; I thought you might come after me after you learned who was responsible, but I never expected the response I got. You were stronger than I imagined; but still, you fail."
"You've never stopped underestimating me, Jacen." She raised her saber, looking at it; he watched her with undisguised, amused contempt. "You assumed that when I learned that you had killed—" her voice broke, and she could not utter the name. There was more than one name that could be used to complete that sentence, of course; but one name haunted her soul.
She paused, collected herself, and moved on. "You assumed that your judgment of me was correct, and that I would despair, give up, fail. You've misjudged a lot of things; yourself, your family, your teachers. And me. But there's one more thing you misjudged."
She looked past the humming blade that had once been Anakin's, to the man that had once been Jacen. "You misjudged the lightsaber, and its relation to the Jedi. You saw that a saber has no edge, but possesses the power to cut; you assumed that was weakness, to defend instead of attack. Perhaps you are right; Jedi have died because of that. But you missed something, an important parallel that dooms you. "
She raised her weapon once more, high above her head; she was totally vulnerable to any strike, but he merely watched her. Her mind filled with an image of the saber crashing down, battering aside his defense and slicing through his body from shoulder to hip. She took a half-step forward, adding to her lightsaber's impetus, and brought it down.
As before, his weapon blurred into the path of her strike. Time seemed to dilate as her blade crashed down; a glowing purple fan seemed to spring into existence above his weapon. But no sooner had the fan appeared than Jaina switched off her weapon and the purple blade winked out of existence. As she watched, feeling as if she were kilometers away and hours slower, Jacen's face reflected faint confusion as the blade disappeared; an eternal heartbeat later, it reappeared.
Below his weapon.
Unguided by the Force, powered only by the determination of its wielder, the violet saber of light snap-hissed into existence. Because it had continued to move downward, the purple shaft of the lightsaber appeared halfway through the original strike pattern, stretching into existence as it punctured his heart, and continued to carve a hole downward through his chest. A faint, disbelieving gasp came out of Jacen's mouth; his eyes, wide with horror, stared at her aghast, recognizing his own doom. His eyes stayed locked on hers as he fell, all the way to the ground. In the bare seconds before his body failed him, before the lack of oxygen in his brain caused that mysterious spark called life to leave the physical body of the man who had once been her brother, she spoke.
"You missed it, Dark Lord. A lightsaber can be ignited when there is need. But it can be turned off."
