The man moaned as he came to. His body ached, and his head and limbs felt like lead weights. He finally sat up and looked around to find himself in a bedroom of some sort.

Who am I? Where am I? How did I get here?

Just then the door opened, and a woman, who looked to be in her early to mid-forties, came in with a tray with some food.

"Oh, good, you're awake. I brought you some lunch. The 'fresher is right across the hall if you need to use it"

She was a human with long, thick, straight brown hair with a bit of gray, lightly tanned skin, emerald green eyes, and stood at about 5' 10".

She gave him the tray, which held a cup of water, a bowl of soup, and some bread and left.

Once he finished eating, he carefully got up and studied his reflection in the full-body mirror by the closet.

He was an elderly man, probably in his early eighties. He had silver hair, a silver beard, brown eyes, very lightly tanned skin, and looked to be about 6' 5". He was wearing dark clothes, a brown cloak, high, black boots, and a cruved handle of some sort hung from his belt.

He took it in his hand and looked at it. It felt and looked familiar. He knew it was his and that he had made it.

When? Where? How? Why? What was it?

He then noticed a small button just in reach of his right thumb. Holding the hilt up, he pressed the button. A glowing, humming, red blade shot from the top of the handle.

It was a lightsaber. It was his lightsaber.

Why did he have a lightsaber?

The door opened, and the woman from before came in.

"Oh, my. A lightsaber."

"It's mine."

That was first time he had spoken. He had a rich, smooth, baritone voice.

"Are you a Jedi?"

The word 'Jedi' sounded familar.

Images flashed through his mind.

A large room with twelve creatures, some human some not, sitting in a circle, a little green creature sitting quietly with a thoughtful look on his ancient face. A boy, about twelve, with dark brown hair and piercing blue eyes. A teenager, about eighteen, with the same hair and eyes. A man, powerfully built almost as tall as him, with long dark brown hair and a beard, and the eyes of the boy and teenager he had already seen. An old man, younger than him, dressed in a dark cloak looking down at him as he knelt.

He heard the old man say, "Rise, Darth... Tyranus."

Everything disappeared, and he blinked and shook his head.

The old man had called him Tyranus.

Was that his name?

"Do you remember anything yet?" the woman asked.

He told what he remembered, though it wasn't much.

"Tyranus, huh?"

He nodded.

"All right. We'll call you Tyranus. I'm Saria."

He shook her hand.

His journey to recover his memory had begun.