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         She didn’t wake, when they boarded the ship she was living in, but that was only because it was easier to track them, when she was asleep, and dreaming more clearly. Her conscious mind had too many thoughts about her brother and his attentions at the starbase, to focus more properly on the matter at hand, which was to be an assassination, although the darksider with the assassins, called acolytes, did not think she was any more than a child, and so he thought to capture her, and ransom her to her betrothed, which was what he believed a padawan was to her master; a servant, and that she was binded to him, as such, for that was the way with the Sith of the old world; that a slave should serve his master until he grows strong enough to kill him or be killed by him, at which time he may become the master, and take a padawan slave of his own.
         She was no child, to him, though,because he simply only knew that to be a child meant that you were weaker than an adult, and yet she was no slave, either, and that he did not understand, for he could not see what the love for her brother and jedi teacher meant, and he assumed that her binding to him was one of forced will and indentured servitude, which is to say, that he believed her weak and cumbersome for her master, and to him, her master had to be that jedi in chains, who had been taken by Macxen, which didn’t figure right, because he was young, too, but the old and sickly deatheater had not realized this, for he had only seen the jedi in chains as one who was already broken, and so he looked old to him.
         She could feel him there, too. Her brother and master, and she realized that he had met this darksider, this descendant of evil, who could not be what he wanted for his lightsaber crystal had grown weak and discolored in the synthesizing process he used to make it, because he did not bear the drive of hatred required for his crystal to grow more properly, and to take red because he wanted to make others bleed with it, because most Sith either took an already cursed blade, or they built one of their own, harboring the ill will and hatred of an abused slave, sure that he would kill his vile and foolish master, whom he hated, with this, the very same blade he had forged and grew the crystal for himself.
         This darksider did not have a master in the Sith, and his own master was his employer, so he had no drive of ego and hatred against Macxen, for he liked so well as he was paid by him, and given special privaledge, for they shared in each other’s talents, and so his blade of light had dulled, and was closer to orange than red, when he wielded it so, and it did not come out so readily as he wanted, so he had to fill himself with eager, vile thoughts of torture before he could draw his blade to effectiveness, and he did not want to torture this girl, just yet, she was only to be killed, and so his assassin’s blade was a knife, as the acolytes wore, and not the lightsaber he had on his hip, just then.
         She was in the bath, Ara was, and she had fallen asleep there only to mind her brother’s teachings, for he had called out to her, when he had seen the other jedi, and knew that she would be targeted next, and he had colored her, while she dreamt, like the jedi she had in chains, and with the weakness this deatheater, called Vestrr, had pretended was there, in the jedi he witnessed in chains, and so he thought he had surmised quite cleverly and in tune with the living force, as he often called it, that she was indeed the weak jedi’s master, and no jedi, yet, herself, but a slave called padawan, who wielded her master’s blade without ease or comfort, for she had no blade of her own, as she had not yet been allowed to build it.
         It was true, in a funny way, she thought, there in her dream. She had never had to build a blade of her own, for her brother had built hers for her, years before, and augmented it for years, making it stronger for her, so that when he threw her into the fray of chaos, she would have him with her wherever she was, for his blade was her blade, and hers was the blade of a jedi master, who possessed no will to show himself for it, and so his was not green, but a hollow blue, for it had grown old in storage, and Anakin and Ara’s father had not had the will to keep it alive from there, so far away. It was almost white in the center, and the blue glow was too washed out and dull to be a proper weapon, as of yet.
         She knew that this would not be true, when he wielded it for real, but he had not had cause, as of yet, and so he relied on the switch built into the hilt, for power, and a generator fastened to the bottom, which was powered by motion of the hilt, so that it could be wielded by anyone and keep itself alive and strong.
         The masters’ blade, like she wielded, or would wield, if she had not left it in the cockpit earlier, while she went to take a bath in the ship’s facilities, was a different sort of weapon altogether. It had no switch on the outside of it, and it had no power cell but the crystal, for only through channeling the force with such intent and power as a master jedi would posess, could the light in the blade be broken through the hilt, and it would glow as radiant as you needed it to, and cease to function the moment you caught off the flow of the force through it, and so none but those who were accustomed to this exact crystal in this exact blade could channel Force through it sufficient enough to keep the blade alive and glowing and slicing and cutting, for whoever did wield it.
         It was fun to have a masters’ blade, and she knew well that he had always fought to protect his family, for they had always been whatever he had loved, and he fought always for love, so when she channeled Force through the crystal in the blade he gave to her, she could tap it with ease and vigor, for it had been forged for her, and by her, because it was his love for his family, as she was, that had forged the power in the crystal itself.
         Sith did not forget that a light saber used crystals so that they could morphosize into more powerful weapons, but their greedy masters who wielded them treated the blade as a possession and a slave, rather than a spirit of willingness to open ways for the good of the future for all the world and Force at large. They cursed their blades, and so they were haunted, and impossible to use without pain in them. He could never have wielded a clean blade, this master, as he labeled himself, called Vestrr, who was no true Sith at all, but a mercenary with a way with the Force, so she called himself darksider, or treasonous curr, for he betrayed even his own order, whenever he used the blade in poison of will, and when he boarded the ship she was bathing in, he betrayed his blade again, by not wielding it with the intent to kill her and torture her willingly, for he had forgotten how to kill without torture, and to torture without the will to kill, and his was only the paid order to torture her, but not, but to kill her, so that is what he came here for, and his lightsabre hated him for it, still ever the more, anon.
         She practically flew out of the bathtub, naked as she was, red hair wild and astrew, the dripping wet form of a girl in kindergarten on one of the inner planets, and a child nonetheless, despite her lethality, or for it, for when the door to her lavatory began to open, she kicked it down, barefooted and Forcefull, crushing the ribs of the closest henchman as the door drove him hard into the hallway wall behind him and his bones crunched under pressure, but he did not die, yet.
         She killed him then, with her mind, by making him believe that he would be in so much pain from the injury for the rest of his life, that he dare not ever be an assassin again, for he would be tortured and killed if caught, after this crippling blow, and so he died, or went away from himself, and let the body stay behind, there, crushed beneath the metal door to the lavatory he had not been afraid to enter, there, before he came to the ship and saw the strangeness hidden within its walls and corridors.
         She leaned back, ducking her head, her wet hair flying over her shoulder behind her, as the assassin’s knife cut out across for her, and she kicked him in the groin, then rolled back, taking a sweeping leap into the next assassin, who was the last, for he was not the broken Sith crier who’d yet to draw his tortured blade on her, here.
         As she came up from the crouch, her naked body spun, and her knee snapped straight, cutting her foot, hard, across the neck of the second living assassin, while the other she had crippled in the groin steeled himself, and bore at her with two throwing knives, poisoned, which she ducked, and dodged with a roll, as did the cunning second she had kicked in the neck, for he knew well the movements of his partner, and did not succumb to blade or poison by the other’s own hand.
         The next knife, a third, spaced out in succession well after the first two, to throw her off, gave her a chance to spin her posture, and move to catch the blade by the hilt, but it was poisoned too, and barbed, and she realized that he had worn gloves while he threw it, so she could it with the Force, spun her entire form around in a fluid shift of her chi, and hurled the knife back at its user, who took it in the kneck, straight center, dropping him to the floor of the ship, as dead as the crushed body in the doorway, and when the second alive, who was the only one now, among the acolytes there and gathered, drew a shortblade on her, she leaped back, springing off her hands just after the assassin’s sword crossed clean over her horizontal belly, mid flip, and she didn’t kick him on her spring backward, but moved sideways, jumping off the wall with her bare, slippery foot, catching a rail on it, bringing herself into an aerial spin, taking the man’s head off with the heel of her foot, packed with Force, though he did not die, for his head did not detach and his brain had not been crushed, for the enemy still behind had weakened her blow, with the Force he wielded, and she turned, now, facing him, and forgetting completely, her masters’ green blade, for she had no weapons on her naked, dripping person, and he could not know that she had a sabre of light onboard the ship, and so she forgot it existed, and she did not more for it, but for a knife, which she abandoned the attempt for, seeing that the one on the corpse’s belt was still barbed, and so she ducked under the saber’s blade, drawn in desperation, by the would be darksider, for he’d seen two of his men die in quick succession, and his blade had been easily loosed in in the fear that drove him now. Fear, and anger at injustice, so he was more Sith than he had ever been in his life, though his blade’s orange and sickly glow did not change all that well, for it.
         Again she dodged, launching her body sideways, kicking the wielder after his lightsabre had nearly stuck her sternum, and pushing herself off the floor as she landed, retreating behind him, so that she did not stay sandwiched in the hall by two assassin’s, lightsabre and poisoned shortblade alike, in intent, and she move quickly back, into a more open hall of the ship; a room, really, where her aerial maneouvers were more fluid, and open.
         He knew her as an acrobat, and that was surely what he saw when he kicked her, and she let him have it, on one of her over used sideways tumbles, and that kick that would have broken her ribs had it landed true, killed her a little, and she tumbled out of control, landing on the hard, yet carpeted, floor of this room in the small but large ship she bore.
         Another two, yet four, throwing knives came at her, when he bladed assassin entered the open hall she stood in, and she narrowly missed being skewered, and did not retreat from the deatheater, who came at her with his glowing blade, swingly wildly, deadly, and yet, he was not there, was he?
         No, she decided, moving with the time of it. He was not there, wielding a blade set to kill her; he was dancing on his own, moving in hallucinogenic dillerium, for he read her by ensuring her blade was not real, and she did not believe in it for him, and he sliced at her by reading where she would try to dodge, but she was not willing herself to dodge.
         If he was not there to dodge, then she would not dodge. She simply knew that her body would be , in space, where it was still safe, and as she had no lightsaber, and never had one, she did not think for it, or go for it, for she had no wield for a weapon, as yet, for all she had to do was exist in the space where he was not, but she did not do that, in her Force of will. She simply existed where she was safe, and danced for naked fun, for she was at home, and safe, on her brother’s only ship, and she knew that it was her home, so she was safe to dance, and she did, and she did not see him there, with his lethal intent on her, as her body lithely moved and currented through air, till she acknowledged a different intruder, and the only one, in face, and took his head clean off this time, with a clean kicked to the jaw, and he was dead on impact, and she rolled to safety, for there had been danger in the kick; an enemy in that kick, but she was not in the same place anymore, and her brother’s blade was not here, either, for she had lost it ages ago, and forgotten that it was real.
         He grew bolder; this would be intruder, for he belied that she had no recourse but to dodge him, and she had no weapon with which to fight him, and he knew that she was afraid, and could not be less afraid than he was, for he was terrified, and growing more so, and she was jedi, and so she did not know her emotions like he did, a well-made Sith, and so could not feed them properly into her power, as he did, and so her fear was useless to her, for the jedi are weak, for they know no fear like he did, just then.
         She was not afraid, for she was at home, and her body existed only in the space and in a dance where she was safe, and this he could not understand, for he had no safety in a home, and he knew no world without fear, and so she was an impossibility as she truly was, and so he only fought an imaginary foe, and he imagined himself winning, for why should he not, when his will was strong with the dark side, and she was weak, and without a real weapon, here.
         She reached for it then; her brother’s dear hand, for he had called out to her, through the force, and asked to bring her through to his planet; to his reality, and so when she reached for his hand, her lightsabre was there, held in hers, and when the green light burst through the handle, it was her Force, her will, that came through the crystal, to reach the dimension of a jedi master, and it sliced through only air, and parted the darksided cur from shoulder to hip, and his weapon petered out when he fell, the crystal inside shattered, for he had no fear in death, and it backfired within itself, and her ship was safe, as it had always been, and her lightsabre glowed green, and bright, illuminating the entire room, and homing the walls into crystal shine, for there was no divide between the light of her weapon and the light of her reality, for the weapon was only her will, powered through, and the crystal was only of a jedi’s love for battle, for war, for war meant change, and that was the way of the stars, so she let the blade fade back into its hilt, and when she hurried to the cockpit, she set the hilt down, engaging the autonomous engines, and keying in a course for Tatooine, where her brother had not sent her, but her father had called her, and she knew that she did not have any father but Luke, who her brothers had always called Master, or great grand father, and he was a grand father, and he had called to her, when she’d reached for the masters’ blade, and she knew that on Tatooine she would find what she needed, and that her brother had wanted her to go there, for he knew the force well, and yet he was changed, to Alex, and so she did not reach him, and knew only that they were both attuned to the Force of will, him with hers, and hers with his, for they were married as brother and sister, master and student, set and match, for he was playing the game to, and would leave the starbase on a different ship, or already had, and so she jettisoned herselves far into the outskirts, toward her ancestral haven, where the influence of all laws were weak, and the Force reigned supreme in all things and ways about you, for the planet was lethal, and its inhabitants unweary, for the home they knew was a world at large, and a desert in most regions, so none came far too close to it.
         She did not know it as Tatooine, however, but as D’hara, for that was the name of the city she was bound for, and in that city, this was the planet’s name too, and they knew no such place called Tatooine, this far from the ancient desert home of Luke and his sister Leia, who was not raised there, but she knew well of it, and kept the empire’s interests far from her brothers’ haven, while he worked there, and ensured that the rebels centered their bases in the midst of the empire, and not on the outskirts, keeping themselves far away from enemies like the Hutts, for they were nothing to a jedi, and easy to manage, and so Luke had, and when he called to her, he could see her, and she could see him.
         “Ara,” he called to her, and he knew her name more well than she’d hoped for.
         “Father?” asked for him, knowing his form a scent well, and Luke had appeared before her, in her dream in the bath, and before, where she’d first seen him call to her, and blocked it out, while she was awake, and fighting, only to remember upon her enemy’s death, as though it only ever happened then. “Father?” she had asked for him, seeing that his form was not blue, like a faded holo projector’s, but white, and serene in simplicity.
         “You must go to the D’haran system,” he instructed her, knowing her will best, there in the Force, on the inner, with her mother and father too. “You will find their an ancient master, who trained not only me, but all great jedi. He will not be there, when you arrive, but that planet was once his home, and that city his haven he worked long to forge for the jedi order. He will sense you well, there, and come for you, when you need him most, and he will not wear black, but white, but you must not see him in white, as you see me, for he is not dead, as the one they called Darth Vader has become.”
         “You will not know him, Ara, when you see him, if you do not let him change your name for you, and call yourself only Para, while on D’hara, the planet and the city, there upon it. Hid your name in that, the form of simplicity, and he will find you for your hiding, for you will be different there, and trust not your old self, but the boy you encounter, well before you meet my old master, for Yoda was only ever my student, and friend, and you called him Master for jest, we still knew, but he did not cross over as I did, and as my father did. Did you know what Yoda had always wished to become, while he was a jedi still?” he asked her. The coordinates were set and the ship careened through the skies, breaking the generated atmosphere of the starbase and putting enough distance between them to jump to hyperspeed and be gone.
         “Yoda?” she asked, unsure of what he spoke. “He was a jedi, and he wished to be a star? How?”
         “He did not know it, while he was alive, but when he met me, he had lost himself to the darkside, for that is what was there, on Dagoba, as he called it, for he sought to be the planet he was in, and in it there was both dark and light, manifested there, in the swamp we trained each other in.
         “He did not exist as a swamp until I arrived there, but when Yoda saw me, in his dreams and meditations, he turned his greatest enemy into a swamp we would both hate, so that I could go from there willingly, and leave Yoda to die, for he had binded the evil of Dagoba to himself, and he wished to become one with it, once more, so that he could conquer himself again.
         “When I arrived for him to complete my training in that, and his, we conquered the evil of Dagoba together, and I left him to be shaped by what we had learned of it, together, through the living force, when he told me there was another, a Skywalker, and I knew that this was the world for me, with my sister, and that was the world for him, with his sister, or brother, or whoever you might call Mace Windu these days, for he is not Dagoba any longer, but dead, in the only true star’s demise that could be reached, for Windu was a deathstar, and Yoda killed him for it, with mine and my father’s help, so if you were to seek it out, Dagoba would not exist, and the system it was named for would not be found, but if you searched for Tatooine, you would be killed, for that is not where you must go, and you told yourself that only to act in haste, for D’hara is not in Tatooine, but in the haven you dreamt for yourself while you crept in fear through your dreams.
         “Go, now, not to Dagoba, but to Yoda, which is this planet’s new name, and there you will find D’hara, and his city therein, and all you know is right will be protected and fought for by you, and you will not loose faith in this, for Tatooine was destroyed, and the coordinates you have for it do not exist any longer.
         “Seek not the desert of Mos Eisley, but the lush forests of Yoda Prime, as the new settlers call it, for the system is yet young, and the stars within it are bright, and many more worlds still will be called as Yoda was called; small and yet grand, old and yet young, blue, and yet green, for there is no color to call a jedi who has learned from all others as their equal, and who has conquered evil by it believing he was its friend and ally, as Mace Windu once did, on Tython and with Dagoba, the dark lord that Windu succumbed to in his desperation for approval by the great forces of wisdom, which is what he believed the jedi to be, and so he became a witch, and governed a set of forces with the dark side, for he believed his jedi ancestors walked with him, and spoke through him, so he was a whore of their will, and Dagoba used him to grow.”
         Dagoba was not there, Ara could see, when she looked at a star map, and Tatooine was not, either, and she wondered how often stars could vanish, as such. She found D’hara, though, and it was not called Yoda, but she named it such, in her computer’s records, and did nothing but sync it with the new republic’s archive databases, and so they would know that Captain Seth’s repossessed ship would be bound for D’hara, which they knew not how to find, and she laughed, for she knew well how to disguise a planet’s location, because she was starting to believe that a planet never had one, and that the world she was bound for had never been Tatooine, or Dagoba, but was Yoda, and so she knew well, that it was her home, too.
         “Find this planet, we must,” she said to herself, and to others, who felt her through the Force. “Not our allies, there yet, but soon should they be. Not like others, I am, but now have gotten old. A child, you see, yes, a child you see, and yet here could I stand, unbroken, for it is a masters’ blade I seek, and a masters’ fortune I’ll find, and not your student I am, but your pupil, and were I not your friend, we always could be no longer jedi, but Sith, and witches for it, for not allowed, we jedi are, to be in love as the human say it. For many men think that to love is to possess, and jedi do not possess, but live. So jedi forbidden, yes they are, to love as they say love, but not allowed, a jedi is, to exist without being love, for all that jedi could mean was to learn to know better, and learning better, it was, was the way of our jedi, and to love better, always, is the only way one can know, see?”
         She crept up on the planet, not making her ship fly at the speed she might if she were fleeing an enemy in pursuit, for nobody could read her coordinates, though a few stragglers picked up her chemtrail, and followed her in curiosity, and she wondered for what sort of attention might be brought to D’hara by her, for the practice to follow a strange ship was not uncommon, for that was how starmaps were built, and she knew that the planet of Yoda Prime was not lost, but found, and growing still, so she sat in the chair for a time, setting her ship’s mind right from Seth’s interference, and then went to shower off the blood she had not realized her body was splattered in, and dress in her gi, and think, hard, on how to dispose of a set of corpses without a ready incinerator onboard.”
         “Stupid darkside creeps,” she muttered, kicking one in the foot, in the hall, and she knew he was dead, so he had not a foot, really, or a limb, and the body was no body, but a mass, and it could not be human, but a boulder, or carcass, as they were called, and she thought it strange, when she showered, that the bodies were fading away, for if it were only a boulder, the mass could be lifted, out and away from itself, breaking the molecules apart, for no spirit held a boulder together, like they did a body, and so when she stepped out of the shower and into the hall, drying herself with a damp towel, the bodies were gone, and the broken sabre was too, for they had not been there, any longer, and she wondered about Darth Vader’s funeral pyre, at the end of the battle of Endor, and thought of ewoks, like her mother told her about, and wished to visit them one day.
         “Where is this Endor?” she asked herself, sitting in the pilot’s chair with a fresh clean gi on and a will for curiosity. She had her weapon’s hilt at her belt, this time, all black and inlaid with gold, and she knew her brother had crafted a masters’ blade for her, and she wondered what would become of his.
         “My mother and father,” she remembered out loud, wondering who she’d felt on the inner with her grandest father, Luke, who was there for her and with her, when she wanted to think of him.
         It was not her mother and father, she realized, but her brother’s, and he was not her brother in blood or marriage, as Anakin was and should be, but her brother in spirit and will alone, and he lived on Yoda Prime, and spoke all the tongues there, and wondered what they jedi were, and why his parents had had to die there.
         “Yoda Prime,” she said again, sounding the phrase out, and thinking of its whereabouts, by thinking of the place called Dagoba, and that of the master they had called Yoda. “Not alive, this place once was,” she said again, “but here you find it, and so you shall. Ships know not what the jedi know, see? They see only what you have them see. Autopilot engaged, it should be, yet override the course, you always should, for you know where Dagoba was, and it does not, and know you do that Yoda is there, and not know it always has, so when you tell it to find Yoda Prime, and D’hara the city, it’s called, tell it where to go, you would, if teach it’s spot you could.”
Look at the rest of what I am, here, on deviantart. The stories speak for themselves, but somehow, I'm still supposed to let you know that none of this would have been possible if two brave boys hadn't shown you what only they could see about Darth Vader, when they were charged with the impossible task of telling a story of jedi to an entire council of fools who thought themselves masters, called con-goers and bloggers.
Jake and Hayden did more for these stories than you have ever guessed possible, so read these chapters as I publish them here on deviant art, one at a time, on my profile, BlackrockHeadphones.
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November 15, 2015




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