Gone:
My blade sings through the air as I battle my opponent. I can remember a time when an intense battle such as this was invigorating, before my bones grew weary.
Here I fight, once again, with the man I trained, my padawan. I remember him as a boy, eager to learn the ways of the Jedi. That was before he turned. Turned from the light, to the dark. And this time I know I will not win. My time has come.
I recall a phrase I heard once, "Fate, it seems, is not without a sense of irony." How true those words are. Through the force field behind my opponent I see him. The young man who came here with me, young Skywalker. I know what he sees. I understand what he feels. He sees his mentor fighting, knowing he's about to die, unable to help him. Oh how I knew that feeling.
It is time, the Force calls. I shut off the energy blade of my lightsaber, and give in to the call.
"No!" I hear young Skywalker, myself, scream. But it is too late. I am gone.