*OC version of The Weakest Jedi.*
The story of a young boy and his foolish dream.
Born into the hellish underworld of Coruscant, Zevon was found by the Jedi at a young age and welcomed into the order. There's a slight problem, though... Zevon's forc...
Every youngling that walked the Jedi path was bound to hear Master Yoda's famous words once or twice.
There is only success, or failure. No middle ground.
You either succeed, or you fail.
Or...
Is that really what Yoda meant?
Ahsoka
"Pssshhew!"
Brilliant indigo bloomed from the heavy hilt.
I couldn't help myself... when I witnessed Zevon ignite his lightsaber for the first time, my mouth opened into a smile wider than a the largest landing strip.
Behind Zevon, the once roaring inferno started to falter.
The flames died a slow death, ebbing away until their roar was merely a whimper.
"nnnnkNNNNNNNknnnnnnkNNNNNN!"
Zevon's blade stood out in the silence, the indigo plasma screaming a grating melody... a sound unlike any I'd ever heard from a lightsaber before.
A cry, a growl...? It was hard to tell.
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With the droids' blasters still cooling, the droid general's gaze lingered on Zevon.
When I glanced back at my closest friend, I realized that I'd left his vision.
Everything had, except Grievous.
The two of them saw each other, and nothing else.
Grievous, standing behind his legions of battle droids.
Zevon, standing atop the wreckage of his master's starfighter.