Aldor's Eye - Part I

Prologue

He felt righteous. She deserved to rot like this. Hatred seethed inside him as he stared down at the Armorer's headless corpse, and disengaged the reforged Dark Saber. Its power coursed through him, and congratulated him on becoming its wielder again.

The Dark Saber belonged to him now. He and his son had tamed the Mythosaur. By all their legends and traditions, Din Djarin was the Mand'alor, and Din Grogu would be his heir. He'd conquered the Armorer and avenged Bo Katan's death. Now he could take her place. The Dark Saber told him she would have wanted him to. Told him all of Mandalore would gladly bow to Din Djarin. If they didn't, he could kill them. Kill the traitors who betrayed her and anyone who dared to betray him. Use this hate that flowed like acid through his veins to kill them all. He could rule. Make things the way he wanted. The way they should be. Become more powerful than Tarre Vizsla and bring the galaxy to its knees. Have it bow to Mandalore like it always should have. Have it bow to Din Djarin.

Din knew these thoughts weren't his. He looked at the beskar hilt in his hand. It wanted more. More power. More blood. More victory. It almost had him believing he wanted everything it promised. But the moment he pulled his mind away from it, all he felt was empty. Cold. The darkness that had followed him all his life closed in around him while the Dark Saber grew heavier in his hand.

There was nowhere he belonged anymore. Nothing left to fight or care for.

A quiet, terrified whimper drew Din's eyes to his son, who now ran to him from his hiding place, tearful and frightened. Hate and emptiness melted away as Din dropped the Dark Saber, and bent to take Grogu into his arms. The boy's heart trilled so hard, Din could feel it through his beskar, and his son's fear became his. The Dark Saber had almost made him forget his heart. What would Grogu have become to him if he'd listened to it? Simply an heir. A tool. He'd be no better than the fucking Imps.

As it dawned on him that he had no idea who he was anymore, everything inside him turned to static, and all he could do was weep. Grogu's fear and his own anguish crashed together, and a great chasm opened wide in his chest, rumbling from a core of fire that shook everything he was down to a flimsy foundation. He sobbed into the darkness for everything he could no longer believe in. For himself and his son. For Bo Katan. For the people of Mandalore who were so tired of fighting. For the entire galaxy, still haunted by Imperial remnants while the New Republic debated semantics and statistics. Most of all, he wept for his past and his future. He had none anymore.

He sank to the ground as he squeezed his son to his cuirass. He couldn't catch his breath, so he took off his helmet and just let Grogu hold him while he sobbed for everything he thought he was. There was nothing left of it. Nothing but this child. His son. His only reason now.

He didn't know how long he sat in this broken state while Grogu held on to him. He only knew he had to get out of there. Away from this wretched planet once and for all. Taking the Dark Saber back in his hand, it seemed to weigh three hundred kilos. It knew Din Djarin was not its man anymore. All it wanted was blood and all Din wanted was peace. The Saber called him weak, but he didn't buy it. If he were a weaker man, he would have hung the Dark Saber on his belt, marched out over the crystallized plains on the back of the Mythosaur, and called himself the Mand'alor for all to hear. But Din Djarin was not weak, and he wanted no part of it.

He didn't think the Dark Saber should have any part in it either. All he saw when he looked at it was war and misery. Mandalore had seen enough of both. The galaxy had seen enough. So he tossed it into the Great Forge. He bumped the temperature up as high as it would go and blasted the control panel for good measure. It was satisfying to watch the cursed hilt melt to nothing. Something close to gratifying to watch a small explosion of light shoot from the fire as the crystal inside popped and vaporized.

As if the crystal's destruction marked the final destruction of Tarre Vizsla's will, every infectious thought of Mandalore and victory that had infested Din's head vaporized along with it. Suddenly, he was exhausted. Of everything. The Way, the hunt, the galaxy. All his life, he'd fought for illusions. Now he was wiser. He looked down at his son, clinging to his boot. The boy looked back into his father's eyes and knew his thoughts. Din knew the Kid's thoughts too. They were in agreement. He stooped to take his son in his arms and sighed as he gently dropped his forehead to Grogu's. He felt a sensation that might resemble freedom. A fraction of peace. He wasn't sure. He didn't know much about either of them. He only knew they were what he sought. For his son and for himself, he would get to know freedom and come to understand peace.

He put his helmet back on and gave his son a nod. "This is the Way."

Grogu nodded back. "Is Way."