This is a short piece that I was inspired to write because of a really cool NPC in the game. If you have done the Jedi Knight storyline, this will be more meaningful. It contains small spoilers for one character that appears briefly.
The Padawan breathed deeply the ancient woodland air of Tython. He turned his face up and closed his eyes to bask in Tythos' warm rays. His soul swelled and he was again humbled. This was a new beginning.
What a thrilling emotion, meekness. It left room to marvel, to truly see and value one's surroundings. Sith were not encouraged to explore or even know this wisdom, with their myopic vision of their own conquests. There was hardly room for honor, let alone humility.
Not far away in a serene clearing, a group of fresh faced younglings were slowly walked through simple combat forms by a patient master. The nautolan instructor occasionally corrected an elbow here, a posture there. Training blades were gripped improperly, and stances were horrendous, but these mistakes were corrected gently. If earnest conviction were enough in battle, then these younglings would have all they needed to face the deadliest foe.
The man watched the young ones with a wistful smile, enjoying their innocent determination, unmarred by darkness.
Though he carried the same rank as these brand new Padawan, he had no need of combat training. His mastery had come through the dark side. He imagined with a rueful chuckle that there were things these little ones could teach him.
He'd been on the planet for a month, and the darkness had retreated. A true picture of who he was began to flourish here. Master Kiwiiks was patient. Her forgiveness was a soothing balm. Her wisdom was teaching him the value of simply being.
Being without needing to dominate. Who knew power could be found in such a state?
How long had it been since he'd truly felt rest? Wholeness?
He could not remember ever feeling those things. Straining anger…rage…those had driven his advancement. He had been feared and hated. It had been acceptable, what had been expected of one such as him. But it had always left an emptiness, causing him to strive for a higher ideal.
He was of the true Sith. If there was no honor, victory was hollow.
Among his kind, to not be feared was to be weak. Wielding fear kept the chains at bay. Now, he knew his chains were broken through letting go.
When had there ever been time for beauty? To revel in it? To allow time to stop and bask in something truly lovely just for the sake of it? His eyes again found the nautolan overseer, who had just dismissed his little class for a break from their lessons. The blue-green alien laughed as the little ones scampered around him, with the boundless energy only children possessed.
What a profound waste that his brethren only found value and meaning through the red haze of rage.
He held out his arm and regarded the flowing sleeve of the plain rough woven robe he now wore. He swept his hood back, reveling in the feel of the cool breeze through his close cropped red black hair. In his outstretched hand was the lightsaber that perfectly fit the calluses of his palm, had been with him since his trials at the Sith Academy. It snarled to life, it's red blade familiar to him. It had hewn innocents, because it had been a Sith's weapon. Now, it would ignite in defense of innocents, as a Jedi's weapon.
The sweet sound of the youngling's laughter drifted to his ears, soothing his brokenness.
Overcome with gratitude, Praven, former Lord of the Sith, sank to his knees and wept.