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Chapter 19 - Edit
"Come on!" Ben's voice, hoarse and desperate, cut through the night. Sweat streamed down his face as he clenched his trembling palm forward. He believed he could summon the violet force lightning, command its destructive power. But it wasn't responding.
He grasped onto his anger, his hatred, his fear, but the forces of light and dark refused to yield. He flung his hand back in another attempt, striving to reconnect with the teachings of Revan and Exar Kun. Still, his efforts proved fruitless. With a heavy sigh, he sank onto the dirt, fingers combing through clumps of dark hair, wrestling with the unfathomable.
His mind had convinced him that he'd embraced the force and its vast weight. Yet, even now, the dark side had deserted him. He had the means to reach out to Exar Kun through the Holocron, but he refused to beg for answers.
Eyes slammed shut, lips pressed tight, he whispered, "Meetra, please..." He wrapped his arms around himself, seeking that familiar connection. She used to be the one who reached out to him, the big sister he'd push away. But after she left him, he had no interest in her presence, even when she appeared in this world, disturbing his peace.
Now, her soothing voice was all he longed for. His snarl turned into a plea, and he leaped to his feet, anger igniting like a wildfire as he gazed into the heavens. "Meetra!" he screamed, pointing his trembling finger. "I know what I did was wrong. I know I strayed from the Jedi path!"
He sank deeper into the abyss of guilt, despair, and self-loathing. "...but I need your help," he begged, the color draining from his eyes. "Please..."
Time seemed to stretch on indefinitely as he stood there, the forest's sounds and the relentless glare of the sun his only companions.
"Why?" he seethed, tears fought back with gritted teeth. His eyes blinked away the moisture as a surge of red-hot malice coursed through him. He unleashed a powerful blast of force energy, shattering the nearest tree, the thunderous sound tearing through the forest. The false Jedi then made his way back to camp, confusion and inner conflict gnawing at his true place within the force.
The gang, now joined by Jet, rode atop Appa as they soared through the skies. Since the previous night, they had been disturbingly silent, devoid of jokes or smiles. A heavy melancholy had settled upon the group.
Sokka was wrestling with his emotions, a tumultuous mix of jealousy and admiration for Jet. The newcomer was a natural leader, a man who had bravely led his freedom fighters against the relentless Fire Nation. Yet, despite his efforts, it had all amounted to nothing.
Katara's gaze was fixed on Jet. He sat with his knees drawn to his chest, slouched and defeated. His eyes were swollen and red, and she felt utterly helpless in the face of his profound loss. In a single night, he had been stripped of everyone he held dear, his entire family gone.
Aang wanted to speak to Jet, to help him understand the magnitude of what had transpired. But words failed him.
Sokka leaned toward Ben, lightly nudging him and whispered in his ear. Ben nodded in response and moved to sit across from Jet. Although they had only known each other for a short while, a level of respect had formed between them. Both were warriors, and both had tasted the power of the Force, albeit in different ways.
"Jet, how are you holding up?" Ben asked.
Jet finally raised his head, his eyes red from crying, though he attempted to hide it. He wiped his nose and looked at Ben. "I lost everything...last night. To those damned Fire Nation bastards, to that warrior."
He sneered at the words, and Ben listened intently as he rested against Appa's saddle. This was going to be a long conversation, a chance for Jet to release his pent-up emotions, and for Ben to reveal the truth of his own identity.
"Ben, that thing you showed me... What was it?"
Ben nodded, his attention fully on Jet. He took a deep breath and began to explain everything—the Force, the history of the world, and the nature of their journey. He revealed Jet's Force sensitivity and the possibility of him becoming a Jedi Knight.
Jet listened, his earlier dejection now mixed with shock at the truth of what the Fire Nation had done and his own untapped potential.
Katara moved closer and sat beside Ben. "Jet, I understand this is overwhelming, but if this is truly your potential..."
Sokka, near the reins, muttered to himself, "Another Force-sensitive..."
Aang, hiding a smirk, focused on the bright skies ahead. His small smile indicated that while the Airbender might have been gone, the Jedi within him was slowly returning.
Jet shifted his gaze from Katara back to Ben. "But I have a question," he said, his finger pointed. His eyes narrowed as he recalled that lesson, that moment when Benjamin had guided him toward an ability he didn't understand. "I saw these... strange red lines, lines that aided me in battle. You helped me focus on them. What were they?"
The eyes of Team Avatar shifted toward Ben, the boy emitting a resigned sigh before he turned his attention back to Jet. "Shatterpoints," he began, his voice weighted with a sense of gravity, "I taught you to focus your mind and properly locate a shatterpoint."
"Shatterpoints... never heard of 'em, not even from the monks or the Jedi that passed through the temple," Aang chimed in, his curiosity now piqued.
Ben nodded knowingly. "Right, it's not common knowledge. Jet, the ability to see shatterpoints is incredibly rare, an innate gift within the Force."
Katara couldn't believe what she was hearing. Jet was already remarkable in her eyes, but to be bestowed with the Force and an additional ability left her in awe. Her gaze followed the boy's wind-ruffled hair, and an appreciative blush spread across her face.
"What exactly does it do?" she inquired.
Ben leaned back, his eyes narrowing as he prepared to reveal something that would change Jet's world. The boy wasn't just another Force-sensitive; he had the potential to become an immensely powerful Jedi Knight. "Shatterpoints," Ben explained, "are vulnerabilities within the Force. They're weak points, weaknesses in a defensive line, a machine, or an opponent. They're the places where the unbreakable becomes breakable."
Jet looked down at his hands, still grappling with the notion that he possessed such extraordinary potential and a destiny that extended far beyond the life of a simple freedom fighter.
"However," Ben continued, drawing the attention of everyone on the sky bison, "the mastery of such power would require rigorous training. Jet, when we first met, I sensed your anger and hatred. If you choose the path of a Jedi, you must be vigilant. Your anger could lead you to the dark side."
Sokka chimed in, turning toward the pair. "Benji, are you certain about this? I mean, Jet here hates the Fire Nation. Would he really join them and turn to the dark side?"
Ben let out another heavy sigh, running his fingers through his dark hair. "The Force doesn't work that way, Sokka. The dark side thrives on temptation. Yes, Jet may hate the Fire Nation and what they've done to him, but with that much hatred in his heart, he could still succumb to the dark side, even if he directs it toward another enemy."
A somber silence settled over them all. Ben leaned closer to Jet, resting his knee on Appa's saddle as he locked eyes with the young man.
"Jet, I'm just a Jedi Knight, not a Force master by any stretch. But this world needs more Jedi," he declared, reflecting on the lessons he had learned from his time with Haru and the importance of guiding individuals along their path. "Living without the Force is not wrong at all. In fact, if I've awakened you to the Force, it's not something you can simply switch off like a water valve. Your connection may even enhance your other skills."
Jet had absorbed every word about the dark side of the Force from Benjamin. He yearned to be a hero, a true champion for others, but he couldn't deny the deep reservoir of anger festering within him. The thought of succumbing to the dark side and causing harm to innocent people was a haunting specter in his mind. So, he drew in a steadying breath and turned back to Ben.
"Maybe it's best," he admitted quietly. "I don't think I want to tread the path of the Jedi."
He braced himself for their disappointment, for their possible anger at his decision. However, none of those emotions surfaced. Katara simply rested a reassuring hand on his shoulder, while Sokka and Aang both nodded in understanding, making no effort to sway his choice.
Benjamin sighed, but a small, genuine smile crept across his face. "If you ever change your mind... I'll be here," he assured Jet. With that, the two of them settled back into their seats, their journey continuing with a newfound sense of unity and acceptance.
They arrived at a peculiar town, one that immediately recognized Aang and urgently implored for his aid. A sinister spirit had been haunting them, abducting townsfolk under the cover of night and pilfering their belongings.
A hushed excitement filled the air as the villagers beseeched Aang for help, and the young Avatar felt compelled to answer their call. Ben, along with the rest of the gang, including Jet, leaned in, peering out of the window. Their eyes widened as the spirit materialized right before them, bursting forth from the houses and wreaking havoc. Aang struggled to communicate with the apparition, but it seemed unresponsive, leaving them all dumbfounded.
Even Benjamin, who had encountered creatures from diverse planets, couldn't deny the eerie nature of this entity. It simply materialized out of thin air. "Alright, Aang obviously needs assistance," Sokka declared, taking the lead. He burst through the door, armed with his trusty boomerang. Ben watched him, his shock momentarily paralyzing him.
Part of him hesitated to step outside, his gaze falling to his own fingers, the nubs where his connection to the Force had failed him. What kind of Jedi couldn't harness the power of either light or dark?
However, when the spirit's teeth sank into Sokka's upper garment, yanking him away, Ben's instincts kicked in. He burst through the door, his lightsaber at the ready, the blade igniting into a vivid purple blur as the Force enhanced his speed.
Dashing along the trees, he propelled himself towards the creature, his blade plunging into the creature's back. The spirit let out a piercing shriek, and in that moment, Benjamin and Sokka screamed too, their eyes clamped shut as they crossed a boundary no mortal should ever traverse.
Ben's eyes snapped open, met with an inky darkness that offered no hint of relief. The disconcerting sound of water dripping, like the relentless patter of rain during a vicious storm, echoed around him. His trembling hand fumbled over his belt, closing around the hilt of his lightsaber, its metallic grip offering a sliver of comfort.
The air, once balmy, now carried a bone-chilling chill. Ben clenched his teeth, forcing himself to close his eyes and tap into the depths of the Force, searching for his center. His last memory was riding on that spirit, and then...
His eyes flew open, his thumb instinctively finding the button on his lightsaber hilt. The purple blade burst forth, casting a violet glow that revealed slick, glistening walls of stone, water trickling down their surface.
He was in a cave. How he'd ended up here, he couldn't fathom, but one thought overrode the rest: I have to find Sokka and get out of here.
Recollection of the ferocity of that spirit gripped him. If it had taken him here, into its own den perhaps, then he was undoubtedly in grave danger. An uncomfortable shiver coursed down his spine, but it wasn't the dark side; it was something ancient, something distant yet palpable.
His grip on his lightsaber tightened as he navigated the cave, the passage stretching endlessly before him. He couldn't gauge the passage of time, but somewhere along the way, he felt a fleeting presence rush past him, brushing against his leg.
Ben whirled around, instincts taking over as he assumed the proper Shien form, his blade leveled for defense. But what met his eyes was a child.
"A child," he whispered, watching the boy shrink back against the wall, his tear-soaked face cupped in trembling hands. Ben dropped to a knee, placing his weapon aside. The village elder's words echoed in his mind, mentioning the children who had vanished at the spirit's hands. Had he stumbled upon one of them?
He activated his lightsaber, casting a purplish glow that illuminated the boy. He was huddled in a ball, eyes red-rimmed and weary.
"It's alright. I'm a Jedi," Ben reassured him. But as the boy lowered his hands from his face, dread crept over him. "Impossible," he muttered, retreating a step. The boy wiped away his tears and rose. In the Mandalorian attire he wore and the bruises that marred his face and arms, Ben recognized the signs of frequent beatings from his father.
"Mama told me all about the Jedi. She said I had a gift," the boy explained.
It couldn't be. It was him, younger by years, perhaps eight or nine. This was the year his mother had committed the gravest of sins in Mandalorian culture: murdering her husband and giving away her only son to the Jedi Order. She had known the punishment for her crime – execution.
The boy extended his hand towards Ben. Ben shuffled away, his lightsaber poised defensively, hands gripping the hilt with determination.
"I am Benjamin, and I wish to become a knight of the Jedi Order," he said, his words carrying the innocent timbre of a child. He even tried to force a smile through the rising madness that threatened to engulf him.
But the vision remained relentless, its presence an inescapable nightmare. Ben shook his head, desperate to halt the hallucination. "No... you're just a hallucination. You're not real!" he screamed at the doppelganger, as if denial could sever the ties that bound him to this nightmarish apparition.
The boy halted in his advance, his gaze locking onto Ben's form. He seemed to contemplate his own hands, his chuckles growing more sinister by the moment. And then, in an unnerving transformation, his form shifted. Shadows danced and coalesced around him, his stature growing taller and more formidable. Darkness worked with him, molding his frame into something altogether more menacing.
"You think you understand power, the Force?" he taunted, his words dripping with arrogance and malevolence. Shadows peeled away, revealing brown combat robes with concealed metal plates. His hair, once innocent, was now shorn to the scalp. But it was his eyes, an unsettling orange, that seethed with the malevolence of the dark side. His pallid skin was marred by inky black veins, the mark of an abomination birthed from the Sith.
It was the old Ben, or rather, a monstrous incarnation of him. His fingers traced the belt that held several metallic hilts, trophies from Jedi and even some Sith that had fallen by his hand in battle. A sinister collection, a grim testament to the mercilessness of the Sith. But among them all, he retained the lightsaber he had carried since childhood, the one that had witnessed his journey from innocence to corruption.
Drawing the short-handled double-bladed lightsaber from behind him, he ignited its dual cyan blades, casting a surreal, haunting glow in the cavern's eerie darkness. Instinctively, he charged at Ben, who raised his own blade to parry the assault. The two lightsabers locked, their fierce struggle unfolding at a breakneck pace.
With a burst of power, Ben attempted to blast his opponent away with a Force push. But the corrupted version countered, wrenching his throat backward with the invisible grip of the Force. Ben went hurtling, colliding with the unforgiving stone floor. In a desperate bid for survival, he extended his left palm, willing forth the purple lightning that had once been at his command. But it betrayed him, refusing to answer his plea.
There, facing the twisted visage of his former self, Ben saw an opening. Channeling the Force, he launched a mighty force push, a final gambit in this relentless battle.
The corrupted one moved with eerie swiftness, retaliating with a force push of his own to repel Ben. However, this sudden motion exposed his left arm, vulnerable and unguarded. In that fleeting moment, Ben seized the opportunity, his lightsaber cleaving downward with a powerful strike that bisected the arm. It was a brutal, visceral act, severing anything that dared to linger beyond the bicep. The severed limb fell to the cold, unforgiving ground.
As the corrupted one crumpled to the floor, Ben raised his purple blade high above his head, gripped with a determination born of instinct. Another dark Jedi, another harbinger of the dark side – he knew what he had to do. He had to end this.
With the intention to deliver the final blow, Ben poised his blade, ready to strike. But then it happened. He saw that face, that familiar old face. Hesitation, like a coiled snake, slithered into his mind, its venomous grip refusing to let go. It sank into him, gnawing at his resolve, and halted his deadly descent.
A twisted smirk crept across the corrupted Ben's face, and with a surge of the Force, he wrenched one of the blades from Ben's lightsaber. A brilliant yellow blade pierced the darkness as he propelled himself upward, aiming the weapon with deadly precision. Ben, his chest impaled, felt his throat constrict as searing heat radiated from the gaping wound. His lightsaber, unignited, slipped from his grasp and clattered to his side.
Standing over the fallen Jedi, the corrupted figure showed no concern for his missing arm. He held the simmering yellow blade, its glow illuminating the cavern's shadows. Lost in a haze of thoughts, he contemplated the countless lives he had extinguished. Jedi, Sith, it didn't matter; their faces had all become indistinguishable to him.
"All these murders, all these kills," he mused aloud, a grim acknowledgment of his gruesome deeds. He wasn't a Jedi; he was nothing more than a remorseless executioner. Had he truly believed that saving the Avatar and the world could absolve him of his sins?
"You have a great deal of hate in you... that is good," the corrupted one began, raising his simmering stump into the air, the yellow beam casting an eerie glow across the chamber. "Revan, he taught us that our hate is the gateway to power. But hate is not enough." He leveled the yellow blade in front of Ben's face, its radiant light revealing the sheen of sweat on his skin.
"Anger... that is the true source of power. It must be focused if it's going to be a powerful weapon. But, without control and with delusions... it shall merely become a shadow of what it truly is." He held the yellow blade high above his head, his voice carrying the weight of a dark prophecy. "Keep deluding yourself of what the Force truly is! Keep giving yourself into hesitation... and you'll have a stump like myself!"
With a final, merciless strike, he brought the blade down. Ben, his eyes closing, succumbed to the encroaching darkness, whether from sheer exhaustion or the inexorable pull of his own existence. Everything dissolved into an abyss of black.
The villagers emerged from the depths of the dark forest, their faces etched with weariness and the tension of the unknown. Katara stirred lightly under her blanket, her senses roused by the commotion. Jet, leaning against the village wall, snapped to attention. "Sokka... Ben," Katara whispered, the words escaping her lips as the blanket slid off her.
As families reunited amidst the hushed jubilation, Aang rose from his meditative posture, his eyes moist with the weight of otherworldly experiences. Jet, moving closer to him, patted Aang on the back, and a smile crept across the young Avatar's face. "Woah, being in the spirit world was just something else," he mused.
Jet nodded in understanding as the two friends made their way toward the entrance, people parting to let them through. Katara, her eyes shimmering with tears, watched the villagers return. "Are they... coming back?" she wondered aloud.
Amid the lingering shadows, she saw them. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she and the rest of Team Avatar flooded into the clearing. Sokka lagged behind, but he carried something—or rather, someone.
Katara's steps faltered, her eyes widening as Sokka gently laid Benjamin on the forest floor. Ben's eyes remained closed, his body limp and unresponsive.
"I need help!" Sokka's voice trembled with urgency as he called out, laying Ben down. Katara rushed forward, her hands moving with practiced care as she tended to the fallen warrior.
Aang and Jet joined her, their confusion mirrored in their faces. "What happened... how long has he been like this, Sokka?" Aang inquired, his voice edged with concern.
Sokka shook his head, his worry palpable. "I don't know... I just woke up and saw Ben lying on the ground. While everyone else woke up, he didn't..."
Aang gently rested his palm on Ben's forehead. His eyes briefly glowed as he concentrated. When he withdrew, his gaze was haunted, his breath growing heavier. "What's going on?" Jet demanded, his voice tinged with anxiety as he clung to Ben's side. He had already lost so many; he refused to lose another.
Aang's words fell heavily upon them. "Ben, his spirit..." He hesitated, a shiver of unease passing through them all. "His spirit is lost in the spirit world..."