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UPDATE: This entire fic is scheduled to go through a revision after I post Chapter 8. This will include grammar corrections and the amendment of anything else I deem wrong with the fic at that point; so if there are any changes you would like to see, pm me before then.
And to those looking into this simply because I requested them to, thank you for your time—I appreciate it :)
3963 BBY
The young Jedi apprentice stared into the candle that flickered light around his dark quarters. In these last few hours before dawn, sleep had become a near impossible thing while seditious thoughts preyed on his vexed mind.
News had reached the enclave that the Mandalorians had ravaged another planet from the Galactic Republic. If their pace stayed consistent, more than half of the Republic would fall within the span of a mere decade; yet the High Council was still determined to debate the entire war away.
Agitated, Aaron got up and began to pace in his room, a light sweat building on his brow. It had been decreed against the Jedi Code to join the Republic in battle. The Council said this war was a diversion to catch the Order off guard—that a greater, hidden threat loomed beyond their scope and that all those who broke rank and followed Revan into conflict were destined to fall to the dark side.
In spite of this, many other Jedi Knights and Masters had joined Revan already. They were willing to risk it all: permanent expulsion from the Order and even their own lives. To live as outcasts forever—and for what? For doing what the Jedi were sworn to do? For protecting the Republic?!
He trembled as repressed emotions began to seep through him. He shouldn't let himself get angry. Anger led to the dark side.
He stopped pacing and feverishly gazed into the shadows dancing along the walls of his spartan room. He felt exhausted—tired of fighting this war in himself that would never end.
Aaron had to wonder, was he even capable of making the same sacrifices they did? Could he forsake all that he knew, and all he had ever hoped for, in exchange for his peace of mind? The honors, the tranquility, the sanctity of his pleasant existence. The respect of his peers and the love of his friends... even with all of its strict discipline, the life of a Jedi was the only one he had ever wanted.
And if he were to follow the Revanchists into war he would be throwing all his prospects away, in a gamble to end the disturbances in the Force. To put an end to the echoes of pain, the immeasurable pain, of dying worlds.
He would have to fight. And at the age of 19 he was hardly a real warrior—unlike the rest of Revan's acolytes. His only notable talent was an uncanny ability to lead and coerce others. He was mediocre with a lightsaber and could barely use the Force... so was there even a place for him in the war effort?
Well of course there was. The Republic was looking for all the help they could get. But he didn't think they would exactly welcome a 'Jedi' with as little combat experience as him. Or as little to offer as him.
But maybe... maybe they would.
He sighed and wearily ran a hand over his flushed face. The battle raging in his youthful heart refusing to rest. He had waited like the Council had asked them all to do but to wait any longer would be remiss. If they didn't act soon, there likely wouldn't be a Republic left to save.
Aaron closed his eyes and ever so slowly felt the heat of his inner turmoil cool as a certain ataraxy took over his being. Truly, this decision had been made long ago. It was only now, in this moment, that its acceptance was finally being effectuated.
He was tired of fighting himself, and he would no longer.
With a deep breath and his chest pushed out Aaron began to pack his things—which didn't take long considering his modest lifestyle. He tried not to think of what he was about to lose, and instead, focus on what others would gain from his sacrifice. As he was about to make his leave Aaron suddenly paused by the threshold, his brown eyes flashed to the small glim that had kept him company in these wee hours. Gravely, he approached the little wax-laden flame, and blew it out. Leaving nothing behind but a wisp of smoke in his wake.
The boy, barely a man, was about to embark on a journey that's repercussions would send an echo through the Force on a scale never seen before. It would leave a wound, a void, that would threaten the existence of the Force itself. This is the story of the Exile and how he came to reconcile that void.
