Dark Days: A Star Wars Short Story

DARK DAYS: Sins of the Chosen

By Marcus Hawke

This is a work of fan fiction. All characters and settings, other than my own, are the property of Lucasfilm with whom this story is in no way officially affiliated. 

*Potential Spoilers Ahead*

At first there was nothing but smoke.

Sick, angry smoke. The air was thick with it. And yet it was cold. Dark and unnatural.

As his vision cleared, the temple guard beheld a sight he could hardly believe to be real. A vision of burning.

The Jedi Temple was burning.

A gaping hole, black and fiery, surrounded by bits of burning debris had been blasted in one side of the temple. The smoke alone was probably visible all the way from the Senate District. Perhaps further. Where before there had been solid wall there was now empty space, the continuous stream of traffic that was the Coruscant skyline beyond it. A mixture of soft orange and deep purple shared the sky. Two moons just barely visible.

Wh--what the...?

The guard coughed, gasping for air. His whole right side ached from the impact of the blast and subsequent fall. His normally pristine white robes where singed from the blast, greying the fabric in some parts, blackening it in others. Broken nearly in half from the concussive force that struck it, he removed the white mask inlayed with gold. Fortunately, aside from some cuts and scrapes, it protected most of his face.

This is your face now, Master Drallig had said. When you wear it you are known only as "guard."

Without it now, he was D'zan Shen again.

My saber? ... Where's my saber??

He could barely hear his own thoughts over the ringing in his ears, but he knew the answer. Locked away in a vault deep within the Temple Guard's barracks, replaced with a clumsy two-handed saber pike that he never felt much proficiency or connection with. Any time he ignited it, Shen longed to see the brilliant emerald blade of his own rather than the pike's yellow ones. But even that wasn't visible now, buried somewhere beneath rubble that would take days to clear.

A quick series of images flashed through Shen's memory.

He had been walking the perimeter of the temple when he heard the voice. That horrible voice. The same one he was sure every other Jedi heard.

Execute Order Sixty-Six.

Order Sixty-Six...

Sixty-Six...

Sixty-SIIIIIIIX...

Deep and dark. Malicious. It chilled him to the bone.

He had gone to seek Master Drallig for council when the screams started. The cries and wails of his brothers and sisters to whom he was connected through the Force. And they to him. Near and Far.

Everywhere.

There was a high-pitched whistle through the air. Just barely audible but enough to catch his attention.

Then a flash of light.

Suddenly hallway came alive. It roared and spit fire at him like a krayt dragon as it exploded throwing Shen hard into the wall. The first thing he sensed even before his eyes opened again was death.

For a Jedi to not only sense—to feel—a sudden drop in life, when moments before it had been teeming, was sickening to say the least. A nauseous wave of cold sadness pervaded every fibre of his being.