Fires of Malachor
The adrenaline,
The bloodlust.
The
thrill that I feel
as I rip through the broken
fields, a death
machine.
All I feel is power.
Not myself, not my
heart,
Only pain.
Only power.
As a charge down
the fray
of Malachor, I am determined
by sheer revenge;
Show
them the mercy
they showed the people
they conquered.
Tortured skies
red fields,
screams of death;
I
remember that day.
The exhiliration,
fleets of ships outshining
the stars!
I forget everything.
And then, I knew
only death.
Tears pouring down
my mangled and
bloody face as
I
thought about
The deaths that
my enemies have caused,
and
how I was making them
taste the blood they had spilled.
For
years, I have
prepared for this point.
And years later, I
will
regret this point.
But making the
Mandalorians
feel
my blade,
being crushed in
Malachor's grip . . .
It was worth every last fiber and ever last wound of my mind, body, heart, and soul.