Star Wars: Seekers
The room is in darkness, with only a faint light shining through the gap in the curtains. There is little that is worth the effort of its illumination; the room is mostly bare, with a bed with a pair of shelves above it, and a single locker. The room's sole occupant lies on the bed, his face relaxed, but with several frown lines burnt so firmly into the folds of his skin that their echoes can be seen even when he is deeply asleep.
The world outside this room is quiet, the darkness of the deep night being matched by the dimming of the day's activities; this is a place that chooses to sleep at night. Only the occasional sounds in the distance hint of the continuity of life beyond these walls.
As the night wears on though, the figure on the bed becomes restless. It is a gradual thing, as if he is slipping slowly into a nightmare, with its horrors unfolding piecemeal as if to draw out the agony of their import.
Blue sparks flash through the air. A line of purple light, blazing like the lightning that crackled off it, flashed through the air.
The figure writhes as if trying to escape from some peril, sweat beading on his brow and bare chest as panic seems to fill him.
Muffled words cut through the howling wind, their content lost to the haze of the dream but their meaning of betrayal being all too clear.
A stillness follows, perhaps more terrible than the writhing torment that had previously been present; something terrible is still happening, and the figure on the bed is helpless before it, unable to avoid this awful sight and unable to prevent the evil that he sees must occur from it.
The stillness seems to extend beyond the room, as the sounds of the rest of the world become muted, almost washed out, as the tension in the air tightens its grip. The figure trembles, fighting against some unseen bond, as the nightmare continues to play out its sick chronicle, uncaring of the pain it might cause.
As the silence continues to deepen, the figure seems to relax slightly, some of the tension perhaps draining from the air. Whatever the nightmare had to deliver was now perhaps done-
- A flash and a roar, almost deafening, strikes at him from behind. Heat lifts him, tosses him, hurls him towards the distant water –
- Snow falls as he runs forward. Why have they not followed? Shards of heat and light cut through him, sear him, almost matching the burning in his soul at the thought of their betrayal –
- Wind whips at him as he drives onwards, the spray of the rivers and marshes washing over him even as a flash reveals the unsuspected foe who strikes from behind –
- Across a hundred worlds, a thousand times over, the same deed is played out again and again and again, the echoes of pain, of betrayal, of confusion, bouncing, reflecting, twirling and splintering, their sum total pouring into the dream that became a nightmare that became all too quickly a reality from which there is no escape -
The figure tears himself upright, the sweat flying from his brow. His face is vacant, the expressions that pass across it ones of horror, confusion, as he tries to comprehend what he has just seen...