Star Wars Rebels: When Hope Is Lost

Chapter 31: Only The Force

Lights.

Running.

Fear.

Anxious.

White armour.

Black helmet.

A face from the past.

Armed guns.

Desperation.

Lightsabers.

Blue. Red.

A scream. A shout.

White. Red.

Blasters firing.

Lasers spraying.

Bullets landing.

Crew.

Death.

Agony.

Screams.

Pain.

Gone.

Fulcrum.

Red blade.

A flash.

Dead.

Master.

Bound and gagged.

Defeated.

Eyes dull.

Last words.

Dark chuckle.

A swing of red light.

Fallen.

"KANAN!" His own scream awoke him. Barraged and battered with the same images, over and over again, until Ezra wanted Kanan to be the one screaming and he was the one that had fallen. At last, he had awoken from the horrible dreams.

But not from the nightmare.

The Fulcrum was dead.

His crew was dead.

His Master was dead.

The only one that might have survived the massacre was Rex, and Ezra knew that that was who he would go to if he ever go escaped the Executor. If he was still alive. Had the clone been a part of the rescue attempt?

But even if he was alive, the night and day terrors would never end.

You couldn't forget your family.

Ezra had learned that the hard way.

"There is no death, there is only the Force." Kanan whispered in his mind. He brushed the voice away. The image of a smile surfaced when the voice was pushed down. Cocky, teasing, happy–even in Kanan's last moment he would not waver.

He had been strong. Ezra had not.

For that, and for his stupidity, his whole crew had paid the most extreme price.

He sat up slowly, numbly aching all over, dried tears staining his cheeks. He wiped them away with the back of his hand. The memories of Kanan always being there, comforting him when he was in despair or needed him, pushed its way to his conscious. Instead of shoving it away, knowing that was a futile effort, Ezra embraced it, imagining the Force wrapping him in a blanket made of his Master's memories.