His eyes blinked open and sorted through the haze of a rustic home. How did he get here? Where was he? Who was he? The past day was a blur. Images of an alien species ran through his mind. A group of young adults and aliens had been sent on a mission for something. Pictures of an older boy and girl with brown hair and brandy eyes pricked his memory. But the most vivid was one of a young, blonde hair, green eyed woman, tears streaming down her face as she saw him.
He finished blinking and regained full consciousness. Suddenly, all his memories flooded back to him.
His name.
Anakin Solo.
His mission.
Myrkyr.
His siblings.
Jacen and Jaina.
His best friend.
Tahiri.
Silently looking around the room, he focused on his environment. Anakin was in a makeshift hermit home, like the one Yoda had lived in. He could feel the Force again, like returning home.
Memories continued to flow back in Anakins head. Had he been dead? What had revived him.
Tahiri. He didn't know if she had lived, he couldn't feel her. Every nerve in Anakins body tensed in fear of her not living. If she hadn't, he knew for sure, there was no reason for him to survive.
A presence came from the corner of the room. Anakin moved to see, then regretted instantly doing so. Everything hurt. He forced his head to look over, and everything darkened in fear.
Vong, he thought to himself. With no strength, he couldn't escape, it wouldn't take the Vong long to realize he was awake. And in true Vong fashion, he would likely be tortured to death, or shaped. He wasn't going to be shaped, and he would never let a Vong kill him.
He saw his lightsaber. Anakin knew he could kill himself with it.
In one quick, painful motion, he plucked the light saber from the mantel it had been resting on. The Vong turned with a look of horror on its tattooed face. Anakin ignited it, and a purpled blade shot out.
"Anakin, no!" the Vong cried.