Fire on Malachor, A Star Wars Fan Fiction

Fire on Malachor

"It looks like at one time, thousands of years ago, Jedi Knights attacked the temple."

"And the Jedi won, right?"

"From what I can tell, nobody won..."

- Ahsoka Tano and Ezra Bridger in the Sith Temple on Malachor, a few years before the Battle of Yavin IV.

The vision was same. He had experienced it so many times he memorized it by heart, and yet, every time, he still played it out as if it was brand new.

He stood dry in a field of swaying grass and bristling trees. His eyes watched from under his dry hood, unaware of the darkened clouds and distant thunder overhead.

Before him was the slender visage of a woman. Her back faced him as she knelt over a small mound, water drops falling and sinking into the dirt.

Like every other time, he saw the woman stand from the mound. Her hands over her eyes, but water seeped between the fingers. However, as she removed her hands, fear coursed through his body when he saw the liquid leaking from her eyes. The color was not clear.

It was red.

And like every time before, he ran forward as the woman slowly faded into the distance. Hand reaching out, he called out to her, begging her to stay.

This time, as he ran, a voice called for him.

"Master! Master!"

"... Master, wake up!"

He responded to the high-pitched, worried voice with a low groan as he stirred. The first thing his eyes saw was a girl staring down at him. Her brown, freckled face, framed by the long braids of her hanging dark hair, made her half his age, perhaps in her twenties.

"Master Jast?" she asked again, the expression on it was what he could describe as relief at his own well-being.

Jedi Knight Cor Jast stared up at his Padawan with a hand pressed to his brow, his fingers brushing against his dark curls. "Li'ana, what happened?" he asked, his deep voice weighed by age.

"There's no time," Li'ana told him with great urgency. "We need to go now!"

Cor wordlessly let a pair of hands heave him up on his feet. The legs of the noble Jedi Knight wobbled and his feet staggered on some hard and rocky. His green eyes faded in and out, only catching glimpses of shadowy rock and distant flashes of multiple colors sparkling everywhere. "Hold on, master," Liana's voice cut through his clouded senses.

Cor focused on it, and he found her. His Padawan stood there, trying to help him stand. There was also something else. A flash of red loomed behind, as a figure in black drew itself closer.

The Jedi's mind blared with warning, and he called on the Force. One hand shoved the Padawan aside, and a familiar metal cylinder flew into his other hand. On instinct, Cor thumbed the button, and a bright green glow filled his vision. As the dark figure ran and brought down his red glow, Cor sprinted forward, and letting the Force guide him, swung.

The sickening sound of searing flesh filled Cor's ears, and a flash enveloped his vision. The red glow faded and figure in black collapsed on the ground.

As Cor stood to his full height, the green glow cleared into the blade of a lightsaber. His hand grasped the golden hilt, and his fingertips brushed the metal of the lateral vents, from which two smaller blades formed the crossguard. He lowered his weapon, casting its light over the dark cloth of a Sith at his feet and revealing the shocked face of a young man, no older than Li'ana.