Chapter Eight: Lessons Learned

"It seems that I can leave you in goods hands when I depart," Angela said to Eve as they walked back through the Lower Woodlands. Already they could feel the oppressive evil peel away from the forest. The blanket of darkness would always leave some mark—it was the way of the Force to leave reminders of the past to future generations—but at least the villagers could walk under the canopy without fear. They even passed a predator cat that meekly stalked away from them, acting much like any other beast would when near humans.

Eve smiled with such innocence that she veritably glowed. "I knew you would want to leave and return to your own people as soon as you could. But I really do want to learn more about the Force. This way, I'll still have a teacher and better yet—a new friend."

Angela squeezed her shoulder. "Don't lose that open heart of yours, Eve," she said sincerely. "There are so few who can juggle responsibility with a kind heart. Even Jedi, who embody that balance, struggle with it every day. You'll make a fine Jedi Knight."

"I hope so. I want to protect my family."

Angela gestured to the woods. "You already have."

Their cheerful banter continued throughout their return trek. It resonated with the growing sense of peace that permeated the Lower Woodlands. To Angela's trained Jedi senses, the effect was intoxicating; it was probably even more so to the young girl beside her. The Force glowed, pure and clean, all around them. Truly, she could relate to the old Jedi adage: the Force surrounded them, bound them, penetrated them. The evidence was all around them.

And then they felt it—the coldness of danger and death, the heat of fear and terror. Even Eve, with her limited training, reacted to it.

"Something's very wrong," she whispered.

Angela drew her lightsaber, ready to ignite it at a moment's notice. "Come on, we're about ten minutes away from the village. Stay close—this feels like another Force-user."

"But who could—" Eve began, but then stopped. Comprehension dawned on her, and Angela was only an instant behind her.

"Atropos," they said in unison. When they ran, they were like the wind.


When they reached the outskirts of the village, they beheld the carnage a dark Jedi could work.

Flames consumed huts and barns, scorched down whole fields of grain, and the screams of the frightened and dying echoed in the valley. Eve fell to her knees and wept, completely overwhelmed at the sight. Angela could only look away, shamed that her inattention, her underestimation of Atropos led to this wanton destruction.

"We have to find him," the young Jedi said in a hard voice. "Come on, Eve. You must be strong. You must help me protect your people." The girl nodded, wiped her eyes, and steeled her heart. It was time to do battle once more.

They passed by the ruins of homes, the corpses of neighbors and friends, the shattered remnants of a peaceful, pastoral community. And in the center of that carnage was the dark Jedi, Atropos. He slashed wildly with his lightsaber, its red blade tearing through the air with a scream. His opponent was King Jeb, a veteran of many battles himself and no stranger to melee fighting.

The old king dodged and ducked, relying on experience and defensive strategies to stay out of reach of his wilier, younger, healthier foe. In his hand was a sword hilt, the blade having been shorn off by Atropos' lightsaber. But the king did not look disadvantaged in the least. Rather, it looked like he and the dark Jedi were at a stalemate.

Eve looked on her father with a mixture of pride and worry. Pride because he was holding so well against one trained in the Jedi arts, worry because he was still fighting one trained in the Jedi arts. She grasped Angela's sleeve, her eyes begging. "We have to help him!"

"We're going to," Angela answered grimly. "Do what you can to slow Atropos down. I'll take him head-on."

The young Jedi leaped into the fray, igniting her green blade with a snap and a hiss. Her weapon crossed with Atropos', sending sparks and lightning into the air. It smelled of ozone. Bales of spilled grain crunched beneath their feet.

"You're going to pay for all the people you killed today," she growled at the Twi'lek.

Atropos flashed his yellowed fangs at her. "Make me," he countered, forcing her blade away and coming in hard. Angela moved furiously, struggling to parry each of his lightning-fast cuts. His speed was incredible, far greater than it had been before.

Angela realized, with growing dread, that the dark Jedi had fully embraced the dark side, was using it to fuel his body beyond the norm. She knew that such techniques ultimately destroyed the flesh, but if all Atropos had to do was sacrifice his body for victory, she knew he would do it in a heartbeat. Indeed, he was doing it now.

His red blade spun in a flat circle against his body, coming out at an angle to slice her leading leg. She reflexively brought her weapon to block—but it was a feint. He turned the direction of his swing, moving it up higher and scoring a burning hit on the shoulder of her sword-arm. Angela recoiled, gasping at the pain. Fortunately, it was only a gazing injury, so it did not do any irreparable damage. Unfortunately, the shock of the blow rendered her sword-arm numb and near-useless.

Atropos resumed his deadly barrage, raining blows upon her like a hailstorm. With only one hand available to her, turning those vicious strikes away took far more effort and skill—effort and skill she did not have. Every deflected strike wore away at her, weakened her, drained her. She was at his mercy, she knew, and she had no defenses left.

That was when he kicked her, splaying her nose against her cheek, and sending her reeling. She felt pressure around her throat, an invisible hand of telekinetic energy slowly crushing the life from her. Angela gurgled, unable to break free. Atropos howled with victorious laughter, his fingers closing into a fist.

Then Eve entered the battle. The girl would not stand to see her friend killed by the murderer of her people. "Let her go!" she demanded courageously, swallowing her fear. Her hands came up like a conductor directing an orchestra. All around her, the spilled grains rose up, germinating and surging forth. Tendrils of golden wire burst from the seeds, wrapping around Atropos' arms and legs, circled his torso and throat.

The dark Jedi panicked at the unexpected assault, his lightsaber blade shearing whole lines of wheat, but to no avail. They continued to surround him. He cursed, he howled, he threatened. But in the end, he died as the plants suffocated him.

Eve sat down, drained by the powerful energies she expended, and further exhausted by the life she had taken. Never before had she killed another sentient being. Her heart felt heavy, tired in ways that the body could never be. She wanted to cry, but found her eyes dry, unable to shed for a man who had butchered her people.

Angela rested a kindly hand upon the girl's shoulder. Killing was never easy—Jedi knew this, because reverence of life was what defined a Jedi—but it had to be far more painful for someone as innocent as Eve. There were no consoling words she could utter, no words of wisdom. It was strangely ironic that the Jedi's accumulated lore and knowledge had no lessons to impart about coping with the act of killing. "I'm sorry," was all she could say.

"Do not grieve for your lost innocence long, my daughter," King Jeb said, coming up behind them. Eve looked up, her eyes shadowed, haunted. She could still hear the dark Jedi's cries as the plants suffocated him. King Jeb tilted her head up, looked into her eyes. "A ruler must make hard decisions for the betterment of all, my daughter," he said softly. Eve heard the pain of personal experience behind his words. "What you did today was kill—but also, you saved us all. Be proud of that fact."

He turned to Angela, sizing her up, arresting her with his wise gaze. "I misjudged you, Jedi. You tried to help us and were it not for the lessons you gave my daughter, that villainous creature would still be destroying us one at a time." He turned toward the Lower Woodlands, studied them with the expertise of a man who knew his lands. "I see, also, the good you have brought to the hell that that forest had become. Already it looks greener, like it did in the old days. You have brought us many boons, Jedi."

His gaze grew stern. "But you also brought upon us the dark Jedi, your prisoner. You left her here and he escaped. The lives of my people rest on your shoulders."

Eve tried to defend her friend, but Angela would have none of it. She touched Eve on the shoulder, quieting her protests. The young Jedi squared her shoulders and replied, "Good King Jeb, I accept responsibility for my actions. I made a mistake, this I admit. I'm sorry for the trouble and hardship I have caused. I never meant for anything like this to happen. Your people are more deserving than that."

The king nodded. "I am grateful to you for the good you have done, Jedi. Understand that. But understand also, that I cannot let you remain among us. Before the dark Jedi attacked, we finished repairing your ship. We assume it is worthy of flying among the stars once more."

Angela bowed respectfully, accepting his judgement. "Thank you for your kindness and hospitality, King Jeb."


"I'm sorry about all this," Eve said sorrowfully as she watched her friend board the battered X-wing.

Angela shook her head. "It's all right," she replied. "I would have had to leave anyway. But I'm not worried—you're a good girl, kind and strong, and you have that Jedi Master to teach you the ways of the Force."

"I'll miss you," the girl said earnestly. She gestured to the villagers around her—Banna, Patra, Elda, King Jeb—all watched the departing Jedi with sadness in their eyes. "We'll all miss you," Eve said.

"And I'll miss all of you," Angela replied sincerely. She unhooked her lightsaber and tossed it to the girl, who handled it gingerly with surprise and awe. "Keep that. I can make one of my own. If you're going to be a Jedi, you'll need one, too."

Impulsively, Eve wrapped her arms around Angela's neck and kissed her on the cheek. "Take care of yourself," she murmured, finally letting go. The Jedi Knight smiled and walked sealed the cockpit.

The villagers watched as the mysterious woman in black garb sail into the stars, vanishing in a trail of hyperspace.


Angela leaned back into the seat of her X-wing, getting comfortable. It would be a long flight back to the nearest port of civilization. She prayed that the hyperdrive remained stable long enough.

She studied the holocron in her hand, taken from the Metal Graveyard. So much knowledge, so much lore, but the most important lessons she learned were taught by real life and by meeting new people. She learned new things among those villagers. She was reminded of what it meant to be a Jedi by a girl who was not even one.

Angela smiled and tucked the holocron into a belt pouch. Lessons and memories filled that crystal cube, but not because a Jedi Master encoded them. No, the holocron was more valuable to her because of the people she met in finding it. She would forever remember a young girl and her kind village and the lessons they taught her.

She settled further into her chair. The first thing she would do when she got back to civilized space, she decided, would be to visit her parents, both living and dead.

The End