Master Apprentice
Archive
Bent
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It's over. The fire that raged brilliant and bright, ferrying away the body of the one I most loved, has burned itself out. The mourners who had gathered to witness the gruesome spectacle are gone.
Except for me. The stone grown cold, little remains within it but ash. This is as it should be, as it has always been done since the dawn of the age in which we live. Ours is the age of light, of relative peace and solidity. Yet I fear that light may be dimming far more quickly than my elders would accept.
The world has felt hollow these past days The days since I lost my Master. And the world is not the only thing that is hollow in his absence. I think if I were to look inside I would find myself hollow as well. I don't feel anymore. I haven't felt anything for days.
Much has been done but I remember very little of it. Even the memories of my knighting at the hands of Master Yoda is but a dim dream. The thing I most looked forward to since becoming a padawan, that which I fought draigons and pirates and Qui-Gon Jinn to attain has been swallowed by the shadows of a raging pyre.
When this sickening play began I wanted nothing more than to rage against the darkness and evil that wrought such horrors. But while fighting a monstrosity of red and black I heard a voice tickle the back of the mind.
My Master's voice.
The strength I'd always known was gone from his voice, rather it was the sound of one hanging onto this world by the slimmest of tethers. The cold eddies that swirled around me became brittle and broken when I concentrated on the words my Master sought to share with me.
//You're stronger than this, my Padawan.//
The touch was so familiar -- I wanted to hold it close. I longed not to let go. So amid the fighting I forced it deep inside where it might never escape. Yet there was a battle to win, a duty to Naboo and the Light that outweighed the needs of a single person. Even a single person so dear. Something inside me screamed at that, fell to the floor shattered. But still I pushed forward.
When the fight was done the dark had failed to sway me, but in that delay all chance for my Master was lost. I had never known him to be weak but I felt him tremble in my arms as he died.
The memories, stark and bright and growing brighter still, wash over me. I drop to the ground near the empty stone pyre, closing my eyes against the thoughts of lost chances and wasted opportunity. Yet still the memories come.
He never said goodbye.
Neither did I.
fin