Take my hand, Luke Skywalker, and let me take you on a journey like no other... a journey into the very depths of the Force... let me show you the days when we were young and the Force light, bright with the energy of hundreds of thousands of Jedi...
The voice sounded in his mind and unconsciously he reached out his hand and the woman grasped it, drawing him into a web of light, countless strands crossing over each other, forming a solid mass. Mesmerised, he stared into the mass, trying to distinguish the individual strands from each other, but it was impossible.
Each strand you see represents one Jedi, one person who could touch the Force. Children of all species bright with hope, hope for a bright future. Each one precious. Masters of the Force, those who taught the children, who moulded our future.
Now he could pick out brighter strands, thicker strands around which the dimmer, thinner strands were interwoven, an intricate web. They pulsated with energy, the children surrounding them pulsating in time with them, growing brighter and more distinguished from their Masters.
It is an honourable thing, to teach another; to show another the mysteries of the Force. Boldly they grew and thrived, to become teachers themselves. But, alas, the tide of war washes even the most beautiful things away.
Suddenly strands started winking out of the web, the brightest strands fading to darkness, leaving their dependant strands hanging loose, swayed by some breeze, gaining in strength. The web that once held strong together was now perilously fragile.
In the war our best and brightest fell, one after the other. The power of the dark side grew... none were immune to its corrosive influence...
The bright strands of the web faded slowly, their colours dull and drab. Slowly the web untangled, only the strongest of threads holding together. Several of the thickest stayed bright even as others faded. They glowed brightly, almost as if she were pointing them out to him.
Our greatest heroes stayed strong even while the rest of us fell into weakness. But none of us were truly immune to the darkness seeping into us through the Force, and even the greatest of us fell... we are only mortal...
One of the strands, entangled tightly with another, slowly faded. It split gradually from its brother, curling away and twisting in a knot it could never fully untangle. He frowned, watching it.
Even he fell, the hero with no fear. He fell further than any of us. He fell into the shadows until he was indistinguishable from them.
Suddenly the rest of the web blinked out except for a few lonely flickering strands, whipped about in a desperate flurry. The Force screamed and he screamed too, clasping his hand over his ear and trying to wrench his other hand from her. She didn't let go, forcing him to endure it. The Force was dark, so dark and oppressive. He had to shut his eyes, but it didn't help.
One by one the remaining strands fell away from the roots which once held a great web of strands strong and bright, strands which were hardly able to be seen over the deep shadows. Only two showed above them, two strands which shone bright red, pushing the others still further into the background.
In one fell blow we were no more. Just desperate souls in a great, deep pond. We sank steadily down, losing touch with the Force, and all we ever held dear, and eventually, our lives. Now there are few of us left. Vader, and Sideous... they hold much darkness over the Force.
A few strands still remained, dull but against the darkness bright enough to hurt his eyes. One was fading steadily from very bright, a short strand, short enough that it could be Yoda. It held strong and steady even in the wind. The few other strands were wavering, and he could see himself, gaining in brightness while the others faded, and her, the strand which was connected to his.
You are the brightest of us, young Jedi. Master Yoda is passing into the Force even now. His time has come. Now it is your time, Luke Skywalker. Remember to be wary of arrogance. Remember the day the Force screamed.
The shadows of the web she raised into focus, and for just a moment the Force was how it had been before: bright with hundreds of thousands of Jedi. Then it faded.
The Force screams still, young one. Hear them, in the background. Concentrate.
And he could hear them, a faint echo of the horrible scream, but still distinct. The pain in that scream was indisputable. It was something he would never forget, could never forget.
And nor should you. We don't have to learn our lesson again, Skywalker. Remember the lessons history teaches us and we don't have to relearn them. Our lesson was learned in blood. Don't have that blood shed again.
Suddenly the other strands faded and his was all that remained, growing brighter by the minute. More strands twined around his, the network building again and brightening.
Young Skywalker, this is the future. You will be the first of the new Jedi, and you will rebuild us. Always stay humble, Skywalker. If you do not, the consequences will be devastating. You will learn our lesson once again
Suddenly the web vanished and he blinked, startled. She released his hand and smiled at him.
"Remember, they still scream, Luke Skywalker," she said before rising without another word and moving away. He sat still for some time, trying to absorb it all.
They all were killed because of arrogance. I will lead the new order. He shook his head. It was all too much to take in while the Empire was still around. But he tucked the memory close to his heart. One day, when he was ready, he would pull it out.