A/N: Just a very angsty bit about Serenity Valley that occured to me the other day... I've been working on it since. Hope you enjoy, please review.
A Soldiers Remembrance
The valley spilled out below the edge of the cliff, rocky at first, but then falling away to lush green grass that swayed in a gentle breeze. As the sun set over the planet Hera, the infamous valley was bathed in golden light that highlighted the slope of the mountains on either side. Flowers—imagine that: flowers in this valley!—sprang up amidst the tall grass, adding a wide variety of colors to the scene.
Lush grass, golden light, a breeze, and flowers.
The valley itself appeared gentle and oh so very welcoming…
But he knew it was anything but.
This valley was torture and death. Its sloping borders might be bathed in golden sunlight now, but they were once dyed crimson with the shed blood of thousands of innocents. No matter how they fought back, the enemy always seemed to cut more of the blameless down.
This valley was nightmares and memories he wished he could shake. Every soldier that'd ever set foot here wished they could forget what they'd seen and heard and done in the valley, but it never let them. The agonizing nightmares were a constant reminder of the horrors that had been committed here and the trials endured.
This valley was darkness and sins. Its past was as deep a shadow as could be, filled with wrongdoings and iniquities that could never be erased, and would never fade. The depths of its shadows were yet to be seen, a dim abyss no one wished to touch.
This valley was hurt and pain. Both sides of the war had been wounded in this valley—the Independents had lost, and the Alliance had become a monster. The pain inflicted here was everlasting. He felt it every day after.
This dale might look like heaven, but it was most certainly hell.
The malevolence and shadows of this vale were eternal, never fading. There might be no physical sign of the evil, but its presence was unquestionably felt and known. The valley was infamous for its shadowy history.
The history that he, unfortunately, had been a part of.
He'd been young the day he first set foot in this cursed valley. He was young when he'd volunteered to fight in the war. Very young. He'd known it would change him, and his mother had begged him not to go, but he went along.
He never could've known how much it would alter the course of his life.
The valley had ruined it. Ever after he was scarred and tortured by the memories, becoming so very distant from the universe around him. He'd never been able to go back, and never would be able to. Everyone who had been part of the battle that happened here was scarred beyond repair, and he was certainly no different.
He'd been through six weeks of absolute hell here. The valley was relentless and unforgiving, and had beaten and broken him to a point at which he was unrecognizable as the boy he'd been. All that his eyes beheld here had wounded and changed him.
No one left this valley the same as when they'd entered.
That's simply the way that it was.
The Alliance side of the battle had come away from the valley changed. Their reputation was soiled when their opponents found out how they hid hideous deeds behind a mask of lies about bettering the galaxy. They spoke endlessly of unifying the peoples of the galaxy, but all that they were truly interested in was beating everyone into submission, and forcing the freedom of thoughts into their own patterns. When their secret agenda was discovered, they became far more discreet about it. But those who'd been here in the valley during the battle knew it existed.
Knew their evil wouldn't fade.
The Independents lost everything to this valley. It was here that they were finally overcome by the Alliance, and it was here that they had in essence, lost the war. Oh, they'd fought to the deaths to win the bloodiest battle not only of the war, but in the history of the galaxy. Had sacrificed so much, even to the point of giving their own lives in hope of winning the battle—and the war—their compatriots carrying on.
And still they'd lost.
So this valley represented the loss of independence. The loss of many freedoms. The loss of many lives, during not only the battle, but those that the Alliance killed for years after.
The sun had now set and darkness settled in over the valley.
Just like the shadows that had covered this valley forty-four times the last time he'd been here. Forty-four days of enduring the torture of the valley while war was waged against the Alliance.
Fourteen of those bearing the tormenting of the enemy in an Alliance camp. There were more physical scars on his body from that than there were from the actual battle.
A chill breeze blew through the valley and over him like the spirits of those who had died in this cursed place. He was never really a superstitious man, but he had this feeling that the spirits of those wronged here still inhabited the valley, mourning. There was no monument to commemorate them—which was a grave injustice—and so they stayed themselves.
He could practically hear their voices whispering to him, reminding him of the horrors of this valley. They reminded him of everything he'd seen…
His view of the valley below him suddenly changed as memory took over. He didn't see the tall grass, but laser-scorched dirt. There weren't weeds springing up all around, but dead bodies littering the place…
The memory became too much to bear, and shaking his head, he freed himself of it.
This valley… was evil. He'd cursed it a thousand times, and did so again.
Serenity Valley. So ironically named…
He would never be rid of the place. It had scathed and scarred him, marking him as one of its victims. Because those that died in wars were not those most harmed by it. They were not the only ones to be mourned.
Those that returned, as he did, were just as bad.
With a sigh, he turned his back on the valley, wishing that he could leave it behind forever. Somehow, though, he did not think it achievable.