PROLOGUE

Jedi Musings

Casualties of the Clone War had reached millions. After the last sighting of Dooku on Raxus Prime, the former Jedi seemed to have disappeared into the very fabric of space. His old Master could not even sense him in the Force. The Dark Side hid its own very well.

Once upon a time the old Master's own Master had told him: One can never step in the same river twice. The water is always running, always flowing. More so in the river of life that is the Force.

It could have ended that day on Geonosis. There was a split second before the Ancient One had stretched out his hand to hold that pillar and save the lives of his young ones, where the river of fate could have taken a different bend.

All he had to do was watch his brethren killed.

Kill his own lost son.

Not even the Ancient One could make that choice.

So Dooku had escaped and the Dark Side had been allowed to prosper.

"Do you think that Dooku was right? That the Senate is now under the control of a Sith?"

For the thousandth time the old Master wondered. Wondered why his once-Padawan who was so clearly embroiled in the Darkness would choose to reveal its source to a Jedi.

Wondered at what point his son had slipped and he had failed to catch him.

The more truth a deception contains, the more powerfully it works.

In these times every utterance, thought, deed and impassivity was a double-edged sword that cut away at the boundaries between Light and Dark, between truth and falsehood.

Some thought the Clone War was a political war, a war against insurrection. Some thought it was a war for peace and freedom from tyranny. The war had many outer manifestations. Perhaps even the Sith – if they existed – did not completely know the truth. But they were closer to it than the Jedi who were only just realizing, only just grasping the enormity of what was at stake.

The conflict between Light and Dark, between Good and Evil was eternal and this war was one more act in that unending drama. The violent search for equilibrium could only culminate in a quandary. Balance had to be achieved – an existence wherein one neither superceded nor annihilated the other. A paradox by its very definition because how could Light and Dark exist side by side?

Light touches Dark. Becomes shade. Becomes shadow. Becomes like utter Darkness itself.

Yet only at the achievement of true balance could freedom be found – the freedom of the individual soul to choose its own path, for better or for worse.

A millennium ago, little earlier than the start of his own life, the Order of the Jedi had risen up to defend this freedom. And for centuries, they had been the guardians of peace and justice in the known galaxy.

Where had they lost their way?

Because they had, the Ancient One realized that now. In an attempt to secure their own place in the evolving galaxy, the Jedi had misplaced their priorities. They had lost their vigilance. And the ever-present Darkness had drawn a shroud over them all.

The Light was dimming, not so much being extinguished but being muted, darkened… As old Jedi rose up against their brethren and their fathers… As young Jedi used the same methods they fought against.

You never step in the same river twice.

Once, the Ancient One had been given the opportunity to put an end to this war. He knew now that the opportunity would not be given him again. Perhaps it would be given to another. Perhaps.

Once, the Jedi had been shown an opportunity to achieve this balance. They had rejected it – then taken it. But surely, just as the waters of the Living Force shifted eternally, an opportunity missed should be lost forever.

But to believe that would be to succumb to the powers of the Dark Side which touched everything that came its way with desolation…

The Living Force was weakened with the daily losses of the life force of its children. The Unifying Force was poisoned by the strength of the Dark Side.

Hope. It was a small, feeble candle in the growing Dark. But if he were to let it extinguish, then they would be plunged into despair.

Wearily, the Ancient One lifted himself from his musings. It was not the first time, nor would it be the last, that the Force had been unable to give him comfort.