The Shadows Star: Book 1

22: Torment

Maul's fury surged like a maelstrom of emotions, a relentless tempest within him that threatened to engulf everything in its path. Each strike of his lightsaber against the unforgiving ground became a release for his pent-up anger, his overwhelming helplessness, and the gnawing sense of loss that tore at his core. His powerful slashes scattered sparks and debris, an outward manifestation of the turmoil that churned within.

His roars reverberated through the desolate landscape, a visceral expression of the pain that had festered deep within his soul. The weight of his actions, the bitter words he had spoken, and the fractured bond with his daughter pressed upon him like an insurmountable load, threatening to crush him beneath its weight.

As the crimson haze of his rage gradually waned, Maul's breaths came in ragged gasps. He knelt beside the discarded horn, his fingers trembling as he retrieved it. The once-sacred emblem of their connection now felt like a shard of ice, piercing his heart with its jagged edges.

In the throes of his torment, he allowed himself to confront the truth he had evaded: he had driven Sombra away and pushed her to the brink until she believed that leaving was her sole recourse. The realization struck him with the impact of a thermal detonator, leaving him fractured and hollow.

Her tearful eyes, the ache in her voice, and the finality of her words replayed relentlessly in his mind, an agonizing refrain. He had become the very embodiment of his deepest fear—a weapon of devastation, not only physically, but emotionally. He had wounded his child irreparably.

Gripping the horn, his anger turned inward, a self-inflicted wound as he berated himself for allowing his emotions to blind him, for failing to perceive the person Sombra was growing into. The understanding that he had forced her away, that he had forfeited her, was a cruel truth that cleaved through his anger, leaving behind an aching void.

Maul's shoulders slumped, his form bowing beneath the weight of his remorse. The desert wind bore witness to his torment, carrying his cries of anguish into the vast emptiness around him. He stood alone, the person he cherished most had vanished, and he was left amidst the wreckage of his deeds.

In the aftermath, an eerie quiet descended, punctuated only by the echo of his sorrow, a symphony of regret and pain playing out against the backdrop of Tatooine's harsh terrain. He lingered there, solitary in the aftermath of his tumultuous outburst, grappling with the stark reality of his actions, the irreversible toll of his unchecked rage.