Chapter 8 - Downfall
Edric stood in darkness, his boots splashing in a pool of black liquid. Stars dotted the black canvas, too far away with their nursing heat and light. Voices echoed around him, unintelligible, hostile. They were getting louder and louder, one of them slowly suppressing the rest. A figure appeared in front of him, his features behind inky shadows, yet his eyes flaming with a scarlet glow like the magma of Mustafar. It was Master Asher. The face twisted in a mask of rage, screaming and repeating, "You left me to die!" The image of his raging mentor burned into his mind. Edric tried to speak or move but no words came and his muscles refused to follow his orders. His master's figure suddenly vanished and the stars slowly blinked out, one by one.
Unknown voices filled the void again, their words sharp and unforgiving. "You have let down your family," they accused. Faces he did not recognize but felt an inexplicable connection to, flickered before him in the dark, their eyes glowing in blue. They seemed to be filled with disappointment and sorrow. One figure held up a strange-looking holocron, its facets glowing. Instead of being a cube, it had a pyramid shape and at the edges, the cyan light turned into red. Its brightness became blinding, and Edric felt his body being ripped apart.
Edric woke up panting, drenched in his own sweat. He took deep breaths to slow down his shaken body, repeating the Jedi Code to help him with the attempt at calming down. There is no emotion, there is peace. He wiped his eyes with a trembling finger, but they felt heavier than when he had gone to sleep. It was not the first time he had this dream. Ever since Tarnos, it returned every few days to make his rest miserable. He couldn't really understand much of it, but seeing his master in that state was like needles were getting pinned on his heart one-by-one each time. What made this particular vision more unsettling was the eerie similarity to the feeling he had on Tarnos before his master's injury—a premonition that something grave was about to happen, and soon. He shook his head and repeated the Jedi Code mantra, a futile attempt at ignoring the foreboding.
A month had passed since Edric arrived on Level 1991. In that time, he had focused on gathering enough credits to build a semblance of a life, whatever that might be. For now, the late night fights at the brawling ring and the daily work at The Rusty Blaster were fulfilling enough. He did everything Marnok asked, mainly helping in the kitchen, but some nights acted both as a bartender and a bouncer when some drunk patrons wanted to start trouble.
On the sides however, without his newfound friends knowing, he slipped out in the artificial darkness in his robes to try and help the people around—and make the difference he sought to do when he left the Jedi Order. The Underworld kept him busier than he anticipated with his extracurriculars, but that meant he was exhausted enough after each day to just crash into his bed—that miraculously could still bear his weight—and fall asleep immediately. Except, nights and dreams like the latest one made it difficult to rise in the morning.
"Kid!" Edric heard Marnok's muffled voice from downstairs. "Get your ass down here and start with the dishes already! We have tables waiting for their orders too, princess."
Edric let out a groan, burying his face in the pillow. He wanted to scream but could only muster a sigh. Forcing himself to roll off the bed, he sprang to his feet.
"Coming!" he yelled to the floor, so Marnok knew the message reached. Edric stepped to the refresher unit and splashed a bit of water on his face. It didn't help much. His reflection looked haggard, far older than his sixteen years. His eyes were bloodshot, with bags beneath them large enough to hold a meiloorun fruit on each side.
He put on his clothes and ran downstairs, only to be greeted by a kitchen towel thrown in his face.
"Princess is finally awake. Clean the empty tables, kid, I've taken care of the rest," Marnok grunted pointing at a couple of booths and tables around the cantina. Edric gave no resistance and picked up a disinfectant on a nearby shelf. He nodded to the bartender, a Twi'lek named Nara, as a way of saying hello, and she returned the gesture.
"He's even grumpier than usual," Nara noted while wiping some glasses dry behind the bar. Nara lived not far and was raising her young child alone. Patrons of the Blaster often tried to flirt with her, but she knew how to navigate their dirty minds. In just a few short sentences, she was able to crush their egos just enough, so they wouldn't bother her again. Unless, of course, they had more credits than the usual customers. Edric had offered to help her by sharing some of his salary, but Nara was adamant about not owing anyone. She kept a polite distance from Edric, likely sensing he had his own secrets. But didn't they all?
"I guess I'm not the only one who hasn't slept well," Edric replied with a shrug as he crossed in front of her, heading to the far end of the cantina where the empty tables awaited his attention. He started scrubbing the first one in circular motions, spraying it with disinfectant.
Two Zabraks sat in the neighboring booth, deep in their conversation. Edric didn't intend to eavesdrop, but even with the almost whispering hushed tones, he could still make out their words.
"I tell you, this Level is changing and I'm not liking it. There's that 'Blur' vigilante going around and messing up people's business," one Zabrak said, taking a large gulp of his beer. Edric's heart skipped a beat. He had heard people started dubbing him as 'Blur' before, but it was unexpected here. The other Zabrak chimed in.
"Oh, yeah? I wouldn't worry about it too much. I heard from my cousin Kador that the Pykes are tired of him messing up their operations. Word is, they put a big bounty on his head, dead or alive. Maybe we should try catching him ourselves."
That's not good, Edric thought. Despite his efforts to keep a low profile and act far from the Blaster to avoid suspicion, helping people inevitably meant stepping on the toes of dangerous predators with sharp teeth. The Pykes controlled most of the Underworld around here, and from the stories he'd heard from other patrons, he knew he'd be in serious trouble if they caught him. He made a mental note to stay out of the streets for the next few weeks until the heat died down. Maybe the Force was warning him about the bounty? At least he hoped so, and staying away from trouble could mean he avoids any catastrophes this time.
The Rusty Blaster started to fill up with customers over the next hour, and soon even Zeek and his band appeared, providing background melodies to the rising tide of conversation. Edric still couldn't shake his exhaustion or the persistent voice in his head warning of an impending doom. It was a combination that made his palms sweat with impatience throughout the day. Adding to his stress was his upcoming fight that evening. He wished he could cancel, but the Underworld didn't operate on personal whims.
A sharp slap on the bar pulled him from his thoughts. A Sullustan demanded a pint of ale. His sixth. Edric barely visibly shook his head and grabbed a glass.
"You got a problem, big guy?" the Sullustan growled, pointing a finger at Edric. The boy managed to keep himself from rolling his eyes and just offered a tight, fake smile.
"Not at all, Sir. Here you go," Edric said, handing over the pint.
"Good. You don't have to meet my blaster's barrel then."
Edric watched the alien head back to his table, a group of friends or possibly gang members waiting for him. It was still hard for the ex-Padawan to tell. Nara approached with a sigh, dropping the plates she was carrying with uncharacteristic force.
"There must be something in the air, because these people today…I swear," she whispered to herself. Edric decided not to bother her and wiped the bar off with a towel. He noticed the music died down and Zeek was walking toward him. The Bith took a seat directly in front of him.
"The usual?" Edric asked.
"Give me a Ryloth, my friend."
Edric raised an eyebrow at the unusual order, but nodded and poured the drink. "Everything alright, Zeek? You usually stick to Corellian ale."
"Of course, my friend! Today is going to be a big fight, I just need something for my nerves," Zeek replied. Edric chuckled as he watched the Bith down the shot and cough at the burn.
"You know I'm the one fighting, right?" Edric asked with a grin.
"Yeah, but I'm the one with a lot of money riding on you. And Mornak too."
Edric laughed softly, shaking his head. "It'll be fine, don't worry."
Or maybe not, the voice in Edric's head added. Although he explained it before to Zeek numerous times that he didn't like his gambling antics, his words had little effect. The Bith seemed fully invested in Edric's underground career, especially since Edric had only lost one fight so far. Edric, however, wasn't sure he was entirely committed. His first fight left a sour taste in his mouth for the rest, especially when he had to throw heavier punches. He held back, and sometimes, his opponents used that hesitation against him. Of course, he still enjoyed the workout, but hurting others wasn't as glorious as it first seemed.
The same evening Edric found himself in the locker room again, feeling like a malfunctioning droid, his mind and body strangely out of sync. As he pulled on his tunic, cold sweat trickled down his back, causing him to shiver. That 'feeling' loomed closer with every passing second, and he could only hope it wouldn't strike in the middle of the fight. It was like being trapped in a tunnel, the light at the end always just out of reach no matter how fast he ran.
"So…" Zeek's voice came from behind him, startling Edric. "Your opponent tonight is a Gigoran," his makeshift coach announced.
"What?" The question slipped out of Edric's mouth before he could stop it. He didn't mind a challenge, but a Gigoran against a human sounded unfair even by Underworld standards. Did the brawling ring know he was the vigilante? He suspected they were part of the Pyke Syndicate, but he always covered his tracks and made sure no one saw him. The locker room suddenly felt like an oven with the heat turned up, and Edric could feel drops of sweat forming on his temples.
"I'm sure you'll win, my friend," Zeek said, offering a quick smile and patting Edric's arms before leaving him to his preparations.
The Tognath escort arrived in the room, signaling it was time to go to the ring. Edric took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He tried to reach his mental sanctuary, but his mind's eye only saw a dark cloud approaching with violent thunder. There is no emotion, there is peace. There is no emotion, there is peace. He repeated the Jedi mantra over and over, but it had no effect. His heart beat like a war drum in his chest, threatening to break free from his ribs.
The arena lights dimmed, and the crowd's roar echoed through the space as Edric stepped into the ring. His opponent, a towering Gigoran with white fur, loomed on the other side. The Gigoran's chestnut brown eyes gleamed with bloodlust, the rest of his face covered with his mouthpiece—that in a more peaceful setting would translate his speech to Galactic Basic.
The fight began as the bell rang. Unlike in his previous fights, Edric decided to start with the offense. He moved swiftly, throwing a series of punches and kicks, but the Gigoran barely flinched, his thick fur and massive frame absorbing the blows like a sponge. The Gigoran retaliated with a powerful swing, forcing Edric to dodge and reassess his strategy.
As they circled each other, Edric tried to find an opening, but the Gigoran's sheer size and strength made it nearly impossible. He landed a few more strikes, but they seemed to have no effect. The Gigoran responded with a shove that sent Edric stumbling backward, dangerously close to the shields.
It hit like a tidal wave, out of nowhere and without warning. It made every hair on Edric's body stand on end. The Force twisted violently, as if someone had crashed into it, knocking everything off balance. A black curtain fell over the universe, endless darkness with insatiable hunger consuming the stars as they flickered out one by one. Hope and light died as Edric heard voices, cries, screams, the sounds of lightsabers and blasters firing. A manic laugh echoed in his skull as the inky black smoke wiped out everything in its path.
The sensation was incomprehensible, a violent storm of chaos and despair that made his vision blur. He had no idea what was happening, but it was overwhelming, a black hole of terror pulling him in. The darkness clawed at his consciousness, dragging him down to his knees, rendering him unable to stand. The roar of the crowd and the feel of the sand beneath him faded into oblivion. His ribs ached as if a void had opened inside him, tearing the universe apart through his very core, the Living Force thrown into disarray.
Edric didn't process when the Gigorian grabbed his right arm and tossed him into the ray shields, knocking him off.
Edric didn't dream, there was only an abyss of nothingness. He came to in the locker room, panting. A medical droid was administering medicine to him just as he regained consciousness. He brushed the needles aside, his eyes darting around, momentarily disoriented and unaware of where he was or why.
"What… what happened?" he asked, his voice shaky.
"What happened?! I could ask you the same thing, Edric," Zeek snapped, leaning against the wall in front of Edric with arms crossed. His frown etched deep wrinkles into his bald head, resembling patterns on dunes eroded by the wind. His giant black eyes narrowed to slits, and Edric sensed a burning fury within him. "You threw that match on purpose, didn't you? I bet you had a side deal for even more credits with the Pykes. Marnok and I both just lost a fortune because of you."
"I… Zeek, I'm so sorry. I didn't want to lose," Edric stammered. The Force was still in a twister, changing and transforming into something dark and unfamiliar. It felt like cold hands with long nails clawing at his back every moment. This was far worse than any premonition he'd had, it was a nightmare coming true. Even without knowing the specifics, he could sense that whatever had happened would have a profound impact on the entire Galaxy.
"Yeah, right. I hope you fell into a Sarlacc pit, Edric Kane," Zeek spat before storming out. Despite his mistrust of the Bith, Zeek's words cut deep, like a vibro-blade twisting in his gut. Edric gathered his things hastily and left the building, secretly hoping this night could not be any worse.
He was wrong. As he stepped onto one of the larger streets, he noticed a crowd gathering near a screen, their chatter growing louder. Drawn by the commotion, Edric approached and heard the HoloNet broadcast. His eyes widened and his jaw dropped as he saw images of the Jedi Temple burning, the news ticker flashing 'Breaking News.' Dread settled in the pit of his stomach.
"...The Jedi Order, once revered as protectors, have revealed their true colors as traitors to our Republic. Order 66 has been enacted to eliminate this threat and restore order to our galaxy. Our loyal clone troopers have been given the directive to execute this order, ensuring our safety and security. This decisive action comes after the shocking revelation of a Jedi plot to overthrow the Republic and seize control. Our sources confirm that several Jedi Masters attempted to assassinate Chancellor Palpatine, forcing this necessary measure to protect our government and its citizens. All Jedi are now wanted, if you know any of their whereabouts, report them to your nearest authorities."
The anchor continued, but Edric's senses shut down, except his vision. He stared at the screen, watching the Jedi Temple, once his home, engulfed in flames and smoke from the attack. No, no, no, no this can't be true. The Jedi Order had its faults, but they would never do something like this. Right?
His lips trembled, and he felt his eyes welling up with tears. There is no emotion, there is peace. The mantra once again did little to calm him, the Dark Side of the Force sweeping any chance for a clear head. He had to get out of the streets and try to meditate. He slipped into the nearby alley and ran off to The Rusty Blaster.
Marnok waited for him at the entrance, popping his fingers with a menacing rhythm. His usual grumpy expression was even harder, etched with anger and with a mouth curled in a snarl. As Edric approached, Marnok greeted him with a sucker punch. The force of the blow sent the former Padawan flying back a good five meters before he crashed to the ground.
"You're no longer welcome here, kid. Get the kriff out before I lose my control. And don't you ever come back," Marnok growled, tossing Edric's backpack at him.
Edric lay on the ground for a moment, the pain from Marnok's punch burning his cheeks, along with the overwhelming shock from the rest of the night. The Force out of balance and in darkness, the horror of Order 66, and the crushing guilt of letting down his friends. His mind swirled with images of the burning Jedi Temple, the betrayal of his comrades, and the anger and disappointment in Zeek's eyes. He hated himself. His chest tightened, his gut turning upside down. Struggling to his feet, he clutched his backpack like a lifeline. Tears streamed down his face as he turned his back on the cantina, much like he had turned his back on the Jedi Temple now engulfed in flames.
Edric stumbled into a nearby dark alley and collapsed against the rough surface of a building. He buried his face in his backpack and screamed, letting the anguish and frustration pour out of him.
A cold metal barrel pressed against Edric's temple, and a coarse voice broke the silence.
"Hello, Blur."