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The Lost Path

Satele Shan, Grand Master of the Jedi Order, protector of the Republic, hero in the war against the Sith Empire.

And she had lead them all to destruction. Nothing she had done had made a difference, except possibly to end the Republic that much sooner.

Had she been too inflexible, too dedicated to the Jedi ways? She no longer knew. Things had changed too rapidly. The return of Revan, the destruction of Ziost, the return to war, delayed but not long enough.

She had followed the Force, as best she could. Had it failed her, or had she failed it?

Now, one more sacrifice. Either her life, or, perhaps, herself..

She had joined the Republic envoy, acting as one of his coterie of assistants, blending in to the crowd that accompanied him to the throne room. It was as ostentatious as she had expected. Vitiate was never one to avoid a gaudy display.

Still, there was great power here. She could feel it all around her, not merely from the man on the throne.

She had waited patiently for her moment. She had foreseen it, an instant when she was not observed and could hide away in the very heart of the Eternal Empire. Soon, she told herself. Soon.

She had gone to war, taken lives, paid the cost. She had never acted as an assassin, and wondered what the price of that would be.

She had to believe the Galaxy was worth it.

Eventually, Emperor Arcann dismissed the envoys, saying he would consider their words. They were lead off by his armored Knights. He then rose from the Throne, and turned to contemplate the stars, or perhaps his fleet. She braced herself to strike.

Arcann turned toward her and said, “There is no need to hide any longer.” She sighed, and jumped down to the walkway leading to the Throne. He seemed a bit surprised. “Satele Shan? Are you really so desperate?”

She activated her saberstaff, replying, “Yes. This is what you have driven me to. Everything I cared for is dust, and it is your fault.”

Did he actually chuckle? “My fault? I think you underestimate my father.”

“Vitiate did not order the invasion. You did.”

He seemed to think about that. “True, but do you know what he would have done? You speak of dust, but that is all he would have left. No, whatever you think of me, I saved the Galaxy. And all this destruction can be laid more at your feet than mine. If you and the Empire had laid down your arms and joined me, this era of peace could have started sooner.”

“Do you expect me to believe that, monster?”

“Believe what you wish.” He spread his arms, his empty palms toward her, and said, “Do what you will.”

She knew something was wrong, but she was out of options. She leapt forward, faster than most eyes could follow.

He made no move to defend himself, but there was a flash of gold light, and she was flung away from the Throne.

Where Arcann’s chuckle had been quiet, passing almost unnoticed, this woman’s laughter echoed throughout the room, a laugh without joy, the sound of a broken creature. Satele felt the rage, the desire for the galaxy to burn, and underlying it, potentially the power to do it, caged but seething beneath the surface. Not for immortality, not for conquest, but simply for chaos. She was terrifying.

“Who are you?” she asked.

The woman stalked down the steps toward her. “Me? Perhaps you should have realized that my brother would not leave himself undefended.”

“Brother?”

“Oh, yes. I am the High Justice of Zakuul, sister to Empire Arcann, daughter of the happily not-so-eternal Valkorion.” That laughter again. “And you, you are about to give me my latest pretties.”

Vaylin jumped towards her.

Satele parried the first blow, and the second. However powerful this Vaylin was, her technique was unpolished, the blows quick and strong but predictable. But what of the Emperor?

Arcann hadn’t moved. He stood next to the Throne, his hands behind his back. Together, they would defeat her easily, Satele thought, why would he stand aside when it was his life at stake?

Vaylin glanced at him and shouted, “Aren’t you going to help?”

“I believe you can handle it, Sister. Show yourself worthy of your title.”

Vaylin stopped, shocked at this dismissal. Just for a moment, but it was almost fatal, as Satele closed with a burst of speed and prepared to slashed at her. She gritted her teeth and said, “Fine, then.” Lifting her free hand, she pulled Arcann’s lightsaber to her, parrying at the last moment.

Arcann started to object, to shout. It was his. He had made it as a twin to his brother’s. How dare she.

He then thought of the last time he had seen Thexan, and held his tongue.

Satele also needed a moment to compose herself. Arcann had left this woman to her own devices, and the burst of emotion Satele felt was almost overwhelming. Anger, of course, but also fear and pain. The Emperor seemed to feel his sister was in little real danger, and that might even be true, but his seeming indifference had still hurt her terribly. What was happening, here?

It didn’t matter. Whatever their pasts, whatever their relationship, whatever their pain, Satele was here to save the entire galaxy the only way she could. She couldn’t allow herself to be distracted.

Vaylin grinned and pressed the attack. The twin sabers became increasingly difficult to parry, and Satele could not find an opening for a counterattack. Had Vaylin been holding back before, or was this because of how enraged her brother had made her?

She had lost her weapon, and now that face, twisted in rage, loomed over her as she her footing, but before the killing blow could land, Satele rolled backwards, nearly going over the edge, stretching her hand out and concentrating. Vaylin reached her and was about to bring an end to this fight, when Arcann shouted, “Sister!”

A moment later, and the warning would not have saved her. As it was, the saberstaff pierced Vaylin’s shoulder.

Satele felt the pain again. Another betrayal. Another failure. Never worthy of anything, not even life.

Despair.

Satele thought for a moment that maybe it would be best to end her anguish. Perhaps she would have acted on that impulse. She would never know.

Vaylin screamed.

She felt her flesh being torn as she was flung off the platform and began her fall. Before she lost sight of them, she saw Arcann come to his injured sister, lifting her up. She could hear him bellowing for medical droids, for the Knights to attend them.

However terrible he was, he still cared for her, it seemed.

She was hurt, she had failed, but she still wasn’t ready to die. Not quite. She reached out with her remaining power and pulled one of the supports to her, catching it in her mutilated hand, tuning out the pain it caused. She was able to reach safety. After that, it was easy enough to hide, Arcann had other concerns and she was no threat. and in the bustling crowd was eventually able to leave the Spire, then finally to leave Zakuul.

She found a hidden world, perhaps by fate, perhaps by chance. Her body eventually healed, though she bore scars from that confrontation. It would take more for her to recover her resolve. She was no longer sure she could. She had failed the Galaxy, the Force, and herself. She had felt something inside her break. All she could do was hide, and hope the Force might show her another path, one that she could no longer see.

Description
Artist's page

vianiel.deviantart.com/
fleeting-sanity.tumblr.com/

The Lost Path

Satele Shan, Grand Master of the Jedi Order, protector of the Republic, hero in the war against the Sith Empire.

And she had lead them all to destruction. Nothing she had done had made a difference, except possibly to end the Republic that much sooner.

Had she been too inflexible, too dedicated to the Jedi ways? She no longer knew. Things had changed too rapidly. The return of Revan, the destruction of Ziost, the return to war, delayed but not long enough.

She had followed the Force, as best she could. Had it failed her, or had she failed it?

Now, one more sacrifice. Either her life, or, perhaps, herself..

She had joined the Republic envoy, acting as one of his coterie of assistants, blending in to the crowd that accompanied him to the throne room. It was as ostentatious as she had expected. Vitiate was never one to avoid a gaudy display.

Still, there was great power here. She could feel it all around her, not merely from the man on the throne.

She had waited patiently for her moment. She had foreseen it, an instant when she was not observed and could hide away in the very heart of the Eternal Empire. Soon, she told herself. Soon.

She had gone to war, taken lives, paid the cost. She had never acted as an assassin, and wondered what the price of that would be.

She had to believe the Galaxy was worth it.

Eventually, Emperor Arcann dismissed the envoys, saying he would consider their words. They were lead off by his armored Knights. He then rose from the Throne, and turned to contemplate the stars, or perhaps his fleet. She braced herself to strike.

Arcann turned toward her and said, “There is no need to hide any longer.” She sighed, and jumped down to the walkway leading to the Throne. He seemed a bit surprised. “Satele Shan? Are you really so desperate?”

She activated her saberstaff, replying, “Yes. This is what you have driven me to. Everything I cared for is dust, and it is your fault.”

Did he actually chuckle? “My fault? I think you underestimate my father.”

“Vitiate did not order the invasion. You did.”

He seemed to think about that. “True, but do you know what he would have done? You speak of dust, but that is all he would have left. No, whatever you think of me, I saved the Galaxy. And all this destruction can be laid more at your feet than mine. If you and the Empire had laid down your arms and joined me, this era of peace could have started sooner.”

“Do you expect me to believe that, monster?”

“Believe what you wish.” He spread his arms, his empty palms toward her, and said, “Do what you will.”

She knew something was wrong, but she was out of options. She leapt forward, faster than most eyes could follow.

He made no move to defend himself, but there was a flash of gold light, and she was flung away from the Throne.

Where Arcann’s chuckle had been quiet, passing almost unnoticed, this woman’s laughter echoed throughout the room, a laugh without joy, the sound of a broken creature. Satele felt the rage, the desire for the galaxy to burn, and underlying it, potentially the power to do it, caged but seething beneath the surface. Not for immortality, not for conquest, but simply for chaos. She was terrifying.

“Who are you?” she asked.

The woman stalked down the steps toward her. “Me? Perhaps you should have realized that my brother would not leave himself undefended.”

“Brother?”

“Oh, yes. I am the High Justice of Zakuul, sister to Empire Arcann, daughter of the happily not-so-eternal Valkorion.” That laughter again. “And you, you are about to give me my latest pretties.”

Vaylin jumped towards her.

Satele parried the first blow, and the second. However powerful this Vaylin was, her technique was unpolished, the blows quick and strong but predictable. But what of the Emperor?

Arcann hadn’t moved. He stood next to the Throne, his hands behind his back. Together, they would defeat her easily, Satele thought, why would he stand aside when it was his life at stake?

Vaylin glanced at him and shouted, “Aren’t you going to help?”

“I believe you can handle it, Sister. Show yourself worthy of your title.”

Vaylin stopped, shocked at this dismissal. Just for a moment, but it was almost fatal, as Satele closed with a burst of speed and prepared to slashed at her. She gritted her teeth and said, “Fine, then.” Lifting her free hand, she pulled Arcann’s lightsaber to her, parrying at the last moment.

Arcann started to object, to shout. It was his. He had made it as a twin to his brother’s. How dare she.

He then thought of the last time he had seen Thexan, and held his tongue.

Satele also needed a moment to compose herself. Arcann had left this woman to her own devices, and the burst of emotion Satele felt was almost overwhelming. Anger, of course, but also fear and pain. The Emperor seemed to feel his sister was in little real danger, and that might even be true, but his seeming indifference had still hurt her terribly. What was happening, here?

It didn’t matter. Whatever their pasts, whatever their relationship, whatever their pain, Satele was here to save the entire galaxy the only way she could. She couldn’t allow herself to be distracted.

Vaylin grinned and pressed the attack. The twin sabers became increasingly difficult to parry, and Satele could not find an opening for a counterattack. Had Vaylin been holding back before, or was this because of how enraged her brother had made her?

She had lost her weapon, and now that face, twisted in rage, loomed over her as she her footing, but before the killing blow could land, Satele rolled backwards, nearly going over the edge, stretching her hand out and concentrating. Vaylin reached her and was about to bring an end to this fight, when Arcann shouted, “Sister!”

A moment later, and the warning would not have saved her. As it was, the saberstaff pierced Vaylin’s shoulder.

Satele felt the pain again. Another betrayal. Another failure. Never worthy of anything, not even life.

Despair.

Satele thought for a moment that maybe it would be best to end her anguish. Perhaps she would have acted on that impulse. She would never know.

Vaylin screamed.

She felt her flesh being torn as she was flung off the platform and began her fall. Before she lost sight of them, she saw Arcann come to his injured sister, lifting her up. She could hear him bellowing for medical droids, for the Knights to attend them.

However terrible he was, he still cared for her, it seemed.

She was hurt, she had failed, but she still wasn’t ready to die. Not quite. She reached out with her remaining power and pulled one of the supports to her, catching it in her mutilated hand, tuning out the pain it caused. She was able to reach safety. After that, it was easy enough to hide, Arcann had other concerns and she was no threat. and in the bustling crowd was eventually able to leave the Spire, then finally to leave Zakuul.

She found a hidden world, perhaps by fate, perhaps by chance. Her body eventually healed, though she bore scars from that confrontation. It would take more for her to recover her resolve. She was no longer sure she could. She had failed the Galaxy, the Force, and herself. She had felt something inside her break. All she could do was hide, and hope the Force might show her another path, one that she could no longer see.