PANIC CORD ━━━ l.skywalker ¹

14

F O U R T E E N

When Clary opens her eyes, Luke is nowhere to be seen. Sitting up, she glances around warily. She's alone in the swamp clearing; she can't recall what has happened previously, and she feels her heart rate spike considerably. The ominous feeling she felt before arriving at Dagobah has worsened; the system is the same, but the feeling has changed. Clary doesn't like it at all.

She feels as if she can't breathe. She stumbles forward, the world around her suddenly growing darker—not dark as if the mist is crowding in, but dark as in intoxicating; a suffocating darkness that's all so familiar it's frightening. Clary gasps for breath but her lungs feel as if something is wrapped around them, tightening them. Her chest heaves as she staggers, the ache in her chest causing her legs to grow weak.

"Luke," she manages to say. She needs him. She doesn't know where he is and it frightens her even more. She doesn't want to be alone. She can't be alone. She continues to struggle against the pressure aching against her chest as she forces herself forward. She feels overwhelmed and empty at the same time.

She doesn't notice the body until she staggers, falling over because her weak legs have collided with the solid, rock-like object. She gasps, the heaviness finally lifted as she looks at what she's stumbled upon. Han. He lays on his stomach and Clary sighs, relief flooding through her.

"Han, are you all right?" She rolls him over. His eyes are open and his mouth in the beginning formation of a yell. Clary gasps, so startled from the sight she jumps backwards in alarm. She stares wide-eyed, not being able to grasp the situation clearly. He isn't moving—he isn't breathing. He isn't anything. He's nothing.

"Han?" Her voice cracks as she shakes his body pathetically. It does nothing. She's bewildered, and she finally notices the hole in his chest, the blood staining his shirt red. Clary can't stop shaking. "No...no!"

She has to get away but she can't move. She's glued to the spot. Her eyes sting with tears but nothing streams down her cheeks; her vision doesn't blur, she isn't allowed the comfort of crying as she's forced to look at her brother's mangled body. He's not dead. He can't be dead.

Footsteps echo in the empty clearing and Clary's head snaps upward in alarm. A dark figure hovers over her and Han. She recognizes it immediately: the ghost of her nightmares.

"Who are you?" she demands. Her voice strains pitifully. "Did you do this?"

"No, Clary." She can almost hear the smile in the stranger's voice. "You did."

"No..." Clary shakes her head, staring dumbfounded at Han. His dead eyes, the light and gleam gone from them completely. She didn't do this. She couldn't have done this. "You're lying!" She looks up but the cloaked figure doesn't lift their head—she can't see their eyes, and that frightens Clary the most. Instead, the figure glances to the right—Clary follows the direction the figure seems to be looking in, until her eyes land on a lightsaber, lying just a few feet away.

She can't control her next movements and yet she suddenly sees herself picking up the lightsaber, igniting it, and driving it through Han's chest, enjoying the last gleam of the light leave his eyes—enjoying the last moments of life, having this power, being able to be in control. Clary screams, dropping the lightsaber immediately as she falls backwards, shaking fervently.

"It's okay, Clary," the cloaked figure coos. "It's going to be okay." They pick up the lightsaber, holding it out. Clary shakes violently. "It's all over now—it's over."