･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆
Graya, known only as the number 515, was subjected to horrific Sith alchemy on Arkania a decade ago. Rescued by Jedi Knight Qui-Gon Jinn smuggled under the darkness of Coruscant's underbelly, she was taken into the guardianship of...
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LIFE WAS PAIN.
GNAWING AT HIS EVERY FIBER AND festering like a malignant tumor at his core. Such a contagion infected the body and slowly twisted the inner chasms of his mind until the fragility of his sanity shattered.
{Flashback}
The beast that had long lay dormant broke it's chains. The phantom that had haunted his steps since childhood and as a predestined shadow of his youth—
Had finally come to claim.
As a young slave on the glaring sodium planes of Tatooine, the shadow seemed to breathe in his every step and settle within the weight of his chest. Despite loneliness and hardship that had come in his earlier years as a Padawan and his days with his mother pillaged, kept him ever determined to prove himself to the Jedi Order.
Burning like a relentless flame. Even at the reservations of his peers, he fervently threw himself into the fold seeking purpose, justice and relevancy.
The Jedi Council had deemed him the Chosen One; the one to bring balance to the Force and end the reign of the Sith. It was a heavy burden to bear, yet Anakin took it on, down to the bonds of the molecular core of his being. He fought against the tides of doubt and uncertainty that threatened to engulf him.
Yet the challenges he'd come to face would fuel the embers stoked in his heart and the flint in his veins, with a fiery drive. Pushing him to defy the odds and exceed his own limitations. The very air crackled with his passion. It was as if the sheer intensity of his spirit forged an invisible shield around him during the Clone Wars.
In the midst of trials and adversity, he stood resolute, unyielding in his pursuit and honing the mastery of his craft. Each setback only served to ignite his soul until it blazed at it's white-hot core. No longer to be ignored by those who had placed their faith in him.
Still, the Jedi had fought to set their shackles upon him with a reserved arrogance, stoking the flames embroiled with anger and resentment. Their pride was a smokescreen that blinded them to the true potential of his power. The Chosen One meant to bring balance was held back at every turn even as he poured his very blood, sweat, and tears into the fight against the Separatists. Because of this, their misguided actions seized innocent lives in the bloodiest battles of the Clone Wars, leaving the Jedi scarred instruments of warfare rather than subservient peacekeepers to the Force.
Wholly consumed by the politics of the Republic slowly burned away the raw compassion imbued in his very being. He watched Jedi fall to darkness or fade into the abyss of obscurity. Deep rooted betrayals left their scars and he had not been immune to this.
