CHAPTER 7

Where am I?

The thought conjured Shadow's broken form to move, but his limbs refused. His eyes fought to open, but his vision remained trapped in blackness. He knew he laid somewhere; unless death had already claimed him. As he drew in a breath, a pain pierced his side. No, he thought, this doesn't feel like death.

Shadow remained stationary for a time that felt like an eternity. Every breath felt labored; every bone ached when he tried to move. Finally, after so long, his eyes opened. Escaping the darkness was like taking his first breath without pain, but sadly an ache still jabbed his sides as they rose and fell. An unfamiliar background surrounded him, all shadowy with faint light oozing through the cracks of an old shutter window. Somehow it looked oddly familiar.

His body stretched out over a long, old sofa facing a makeshift door—made of random wood pieces—which he assumed was the entryway. He lifted his gaze toward a closed closet just in front of him. His sight soon traveled behind the couch where he spotted stairs leading to the upper floor. The place looked small, and he doubted he was alone.

Suddenly the door swung open and Shadow's head jerked toward a figure standing at the threshold. "You're awake," said the stranger, deep voice ringing with obvious cheer. The floorboards creaked beneath his weight as he entered the house, closing the door behind him. Shadow squinted. He couldn't get a good look of the man to identify him, but he sounded awfully familiar.

"Not much of a talker, eh?" The man observed as he headed to the old shutter. "Don't worry, I'll do the taking for 'ya."

The shutters groaned open and dim gold light pooled through the mucky window pane, though Shadow could define the reds, oranges, and pinks outside; colors made by a sun easing behind the horizon. He sat up, and when the man faced him, his eyes lit up with recognition. "Rogen?" he croaked, voice tight in his dry through.

Rogen laughed. "Don't try talking too much, boy. You've been unconscious for days and haven't drank anything." He gestured to a large pitcher on a wooden end table by the couch. "Water?"

Shadow nodded, gradually sitting up. As he moved, his face grimaced. It'd take him a few moments or so to get use to the sharp aches in his body. Rogen walked to the end table, and when the water gurgled into the empty glass beside the pitcher, Shadow's throat felt dryer.

"Here." Rogen handed him the glass and Shadow touched it to his lips.

The cold liquid trickled down his throat, a soothing feeling. When the water drained to nothing, Shadow handed back the glass and took a deep breath. "How long have I been out?"

"Not long," Rogen admitted. "About two weeks."

Shadow's eyes widened. "Two weeks?" he echoed, jaw tightened. When the older man nodded, he gazed down at the floor. Two weeks? he thought in anguish. He closed his eyes, thoughts about Kareb and Ahsoka flooding his mind. His fingers gripped his hair. Everything at the moment felt rather overwhelming. "Is Ahsoka...?" He didn't want to say it.

"She's fine," Rogen assured him. "And your brother's gone; he disappeared. When I found you, I had to get you out of there fast. But I heard much about the troopers swarming in after Kareb. Your brother barely escaped."

Shadow's shoulders eased in relief. "She's alive," he murmured beneath his breath. "But she probably thinks I'm dead." His eyes opened, gazing up toward Rogen in wonder. "She thinks I'm dead now, huh?" he mused, speaking louder. When he saw him nod, he scowled. "When can I go back? I have to see her!"

Rogen shook his head. "You can't," he muttered. "It's too risky. Kareb thinks your dead now too—and his awareness is no longer focused on you. But, if you set foot in the Coruscant again, I'm certain—because of the bond you two hold—he will sense you."

Shadow's eyes blazed as he got himself to his feet. "What?" he snapped. "We're not on Coruscant? Where the hell are we?" He ignored the ache in his limbs.

"Dantooine." Rogen gestured toward the open window, pointing toward the dark atmosphere and the faint tussock grass swaying to and fro. "A terrain for farmers—"

"I know what this place is," Shadow interrupted. "I spent a bit of my childhood here. Before my parents died." His eyes slowly glanced about the place again. No wonder why I seems so familiar, he thought. He glanced at the closet, and eventually toward the stairs leading upstairs. It didn't seem so familiar, it felt familiar.

"I'm sorry," Rogen apologized, hand touching his shoulder and jerking Shadow from his thoughts. "Soon you'll reunite with your sweetheart, but for now: you need to rest. The sooner you're healed up, the sooner we can start training."

Shadow raised an eyebrow. "Training?" he echoed.

"Yes, training." Rogen gradually led him back down to the couch, gentle not to disturb his wounds. "I tried to fix your injuries, but the Force only goes so far—"

"What did you say?" Shadow interrupted, his widened toward the man. He couldn't believe what his hears were hearing.

Rogen only grinned. "You heard me," he answered, and then headed for the kitchen with the water pitcher and empty glass. "Honestly, I'm surprised you didn't sense it—but then again, I think it's been a while since you've embraced your instincts, huh?"

"I think I'm finely tuned in the Force," Shadow retorted.

"You assume much," Rogen mused. "And you still have much to learn. But rest now, Shadow. Once I see that you're strong enough, I can start teaching you."

"Are you a Jedi?" Shadow's eyes narrowed slightly. The last thing he needed, or at least wanted, was a Jedi lecturing him. He didn't want to hear it.

The man only paused, chuckling at the name. "Was," he said. "A very long time ago. One of many, but I left the Order to seek seclusion here." His eyes focused on his wounded, now growing stern as he said, "Rest. Or you'll never be able to defeat your brother."

"One more question," Shadow said, preventing Rogen from leaving the room just yet. He took a deep breath, "How do you know about my brother?"

"You talk in your sleep, you know that?" Rogen chuckled, shaking his head. "You mumble all sorts of restless things when you're asleep. I heard his name—I heard the word 'brother' so I put it together." He shrugged, turning his back on Shadow. "Rest. You really need it."

Shadow's head touched down on the couch, releasing a long sigh as he thought back to what Rogen said. He hoped Ahsoka was alright—despite the man's claims. That day in the chancellor's office, Kareb threatened to kill her.

As he laid there, he realized Kareb had no intention of killing her—he wanted her to suffer like he did. He wanted her to live every waking moment heartbroken, just like him. Shadow's body shivered as he closed his eyes, hoping Ahsoka wouldn't give in to those thoughts. Kareb got his revenge—or at least, that's what he would keep thinking.


Sorry for the short chapter, but I'm sure next time it'll be longer in length. The next chapter posting is June 28th, 2014. I'd like to take a moment to thank you all for sticking with me this far, and I can't for the rest of the chapters to come! You guys are awesome! (: Have a great week, everyone!