-Chapter 53: I Dream of Victory-
Location: Unknown
"Victory is reserved for those willing to pay its price."
Sunset had turned the sky a shade of caramel, the light golden as it sank lower on the horizon. The air was hazy, thick with particulate from the disaster around. Flames enveloped whole buildings, pouring forth columns of smoke into the atmosphere.
Coruscant was burning.
The ecumenopolis was but a mere steel of its former splendor. Overrun by tanks and the remnants of war, bodies filled the streets, blaster craters littered both buildings and roads alike, destroying whatever beauty was left in the city.
Standing tall in what was an abandoned industrial zone, Wraith looked out across a sea of bloody Clone helmets. They surrounded him like grass in a field, stretching on for miles upon miles. There were too many to count, but the sight was all too pleasing to Wraith for him to care. He breathed deeply, smelling smoke and ash and blood and exhaled in a satisfied manner.
"Victory..." he mused. Wraith paused to take it all in, basking in his moment of triumph.
"But at what cost?" A soft, timid voice asked from behind. Turning around, Wraith's eyes widened beneath his helmet.
"Ahsoka?" The young Togruta looked sad and disheartened, even a little scared. She stood with shoulders slumped, hands folded before her.
"Was this really worth it, Wraith?" She asked with big, mournful eyes. "Was this the goal you had in mind all along?" Wraith didn't know how to answer her. She looked so... vulnerable. Like all of her courage and strength had been stripped away. "You said the Separatists were all about justice and equality... where is the justice for those killed? Where is the equality for those slain in the streets?" Ahsoka asked, practically begging him for an answer.
"To build a new world, you have to tear down the old one. And that can be a very messy business." He answered rather coldly. In his head he knew this to be the right thing, this was what he was made to help achieve.
But it was a rhetoric Ahsoka didn't want to hear.
"You're dodging me." She replied. Wraith said nothing further. "You don't know, do you?" Ahsoka pried.
"I do not know how to formulate an answer that would satisfy you." He finally said. "But I know what is right." Ahsoka seemed shocked by his response, her expression denoting both surprise and apall.
"All of this destruction... is right?" She emphatically responded. "Wasn't there another way?" Wraith said nothing, not knowing how to handle such questioning in the face of his victory. "Wraith... please." She begged him again.
"Please what?"
"I... I don't know!" Ahsoka exclaimed, clearly distraught. "I feel so lost... so... so cold." Her words softened Wraith and he turned back to Ahsoka. She looked so fragile now.
"Come here," Wraith whispered, drawing Ahsoka into a hug. "I'll keep you close. I'll do whatever it takes to make you happy." He promised. Ahsoka meekly accepted his embrace, but her sorrowful state did not change.
"Was this the only path to victory? Was this the only way the war could end?" She wondered in a breaking voice. Then she sniffled, on the verge of losing all control over her emotions. "You don't have to cause this..." Ahsoka looked up to him. "You can still be saved." She said, eyes watering. "I have hope for you."
The scene suddenly changed, Wraith now standing atop the Jedi Temple alongside Count Dooku. They both looked worn and battle-weary; the Count's hands stained with blood, Wraith's armor charred and burnt. But instead of experiencing this, Wraith was simply viewing it, no longer a participant but now an observer.
What was this strange reality? Was it his future? A mere imagining of what was to come?
"You did well, soldier." Dooku was saying as they gazed out at the burning cityscape. "The Republic has fallen, and now the burden of creating a better way of life falls to us."
"A task I will gladly accept, my lord." Wraith replied.
"Then carry out your duties in the name of the Separatists... General Wraith." Dooku responded with a smile.
Wraith couldn't believe his ears. He was a general? He kept watching as he gave a nod, then stood at attention and crossed his mechanical left arm across his chest...
What was this...?
Author's Note: And with that, I think I need to take a break for a bit. These chapters are getting harder to write and I've got too many ideas that aren't Star Wars related. I'm gonna work on them, get them out of my head and get all jazzed up to write Star Wars again. I'll be back, that's a promise!
