Prologue
Three days after the excution of Order 66
Death Star construction site - Despayre
If stars could be used to represent the amount of lives that he had taken in the past few days, the winking starscape before him would be their perfect representation.
In fact, he was a good example of what their loss meant to the galaxy himself. His right hand, the first mechanical one that had clawed out of fiery peril on Mustafar, had been lost at a Jedi's impatience and incompetence. His left hand, how as robotic as its fellow, had been lost to the blind luck of a hated brother during a futie duel on the burning world. His legs had been sheared off in the same battle, due to the uncontrollable rage of a foolish Jedi who had been toying with the darkside. His torso had been burned past all recognition, fused together with the charred remains of the old Jedi robes that the Jedi had worn. They clung to him like a constant reminder of the lack of faith that the Jedi Order had imprinted upon him.
His body was a depiction of the danger that the Jedi had imposed upon the galaxy, but against all the odds he had managed to quell it. The Jedi that had been inside of him had fallen with them.
He could cope with the physical consequences of the cleansing that he had led, but the emotional scars still haunted his every thought. He was more machine than man now, but he had not lost his heart during the transition. The vital organ was still encased in his charred flesh, as if the burned skin had healed across it to protect it from any more hurt. What he had lost had been the love that his heart had stored when the Jedi had choked it out of her.
His wife had died at the hands of Jedi Knight Anakin Skywalker.
He had not been able to figure out why his master had not forewarned him of this. His master had known that his love was going to die in child birth, he had even proposed that the dark side was the only way that he would be able to save her. The Jedi's conscience within him had been screaming at him that he had just been tricked, that everything his master had said was a lie. But the Jedi had just attacked a harmless man. They were the traitors, not him. He was just trying to help him, like he always had been. Aside from his old Jedi Master, he had been the uncle-like figure in his life that he could always count upon and who only had his best interests at heart. It seemed now that this had been an empty promise. Why had he not seen that she would die at the hands of a Jedi?
He had lost her for good now. He had heard rumours that she had been returned to Naboo, her homeworld, for her final place of rest. He had received visions, visions of her beautiful, motionless form lying on a floating bier as it was guided down sombre Nubian streets. Delicate flowers had decorated her flowing brown hair and a small snippet of Japor ivory wood, roughly carved with intricate patterns native to Tatooine, knotted on a thin piece of leather had been knotted around her manicured fingers. He had recognised it as the necklace that the Jedi part of him had given her as a naive boy so many years ago, excited to begin his new life as a Jedi.
This image plagued his dreams in the desperate times where he had tried to sleep or meditate. Millions of possibilities had run through his mind, many of them lingering on his commitment to the Jedi Order. If he had known that the Jedi were capable of treachery against the Republic that they were supposed to serve, would he have gone with Qui-Gon Jinn on that fateful day? He knew that the galaxy would have been worse if he'd chosen to stay with his mother on the dustball of a world. He would not have become the Sith that he was today, who was needed to bring balance to the Force. He would not have saved his master from certain death at the blade of a feral, Korunn Jedi Master. He would not have invaded the Jedi Temple and set Order 66 into motion.
He would not have lost the love of his life, nor his beloved mother. But if he had stayed on Tatooine, he would never have married his wife and would have ruined the dreams that his mother had always had for him. He had loved his wife from the moment that he had first seen her and had known in an instant that he was going to marry her. Personal sacrifice was the way of the Sith. He had suffered, yet the galaxy was better off for it.
If he had not left Tatooine, his heart would have died much sooner than it had in reality.
Now, he had absolutely nothing left except the dark side. It had all been taken away from him by the brother that had betrayed him and the Jedi part of him that had never learned the lessons he was being taught. The only thing that remained in his heart was darkness and fire: a burning lust for vengeance and the duty to make the galaxy right again.
He did not know how, but whether it had been by skill, by courage or blind luck, some of the Jedi from the mystical Order had managed to survive the purge. There were more and more reports coming in every day of Jedi that had fallen, many of the key masters in the order or members of the Jedi Council. And yet, there were still the occasional cases where Jedi had somehow managed to escape with their lives.
If the sparse few gaps of clear space in the starscape before him could represent the Jedi that he had yet to kill, then he knew that his duty was not going to take long.
They would all fall. Like master Windu, like master Adi-Mundi, like master Koon - they would all fall so that the Force could once again regain its balance. But none of them would fall faster, harder, deeper than Anakin Skywalker had. The Jedi was dead now.
Dark Lord of the Sith Darth Vader would make sure of it, as there was no one that he could hate more.