Star Wars: Circle of Fire

[Rain]

STAR WARS: CIRCLE OF FIRE

“The Night Is Darkest Just Before The Dawn.”

The Galaxy is in a period of oppression. The horrific Order 66 has destroyed the Jedi Order, and killed many Jedi. The Galaxy itself now lies in the grip of the tyrannical and xenophobic Emperor Palpatine, who rumour has it, is a Sith Lord. In these hard times it is the non-human species that have suffered most. Coruscant was once the shining jewel of the Galaxy, colourful and vibrant, and boasting numerous species. Now it is no longer Coruscant, but Imperial Center, and species such as Twi’leks, Ithorians, Rodians and even the Hutts have been pushed down to the underlevels.

In the midst of all this strife and turmoil, a small organisation known as Whiplash make it their point to stand against the Empire. Among their ranks is a Twi’lek called Laranth Tarak, a former member of the Jedi Order, specifically the Gray Paladins. She has always been tough, but when she encounters fellow Jedi Xander Foxx, she gets caught up in a struggle between good and evil, and she learns that she is not as strong as she once thought.

Meanwhile, tensions are fraying between Emperor Palpatine and his Sith Apprentice Darth Vader. Trust is non existent between the two, with both keeping secret apprentices. Palpatine has an elite group known as the Emperors Hands, whilst Vader is secretly training a boy, known as Starkiller, so that one day he will be strong enough to overthrow the Emperor, and have the Galaxy to himself.

Everyone is bound by fate and legacy, no-one is as they seem and everyone has a price. Now as these fates cross paths, a stand will be made and a cataclysmic battle will ensue that will decide the fate of the Galaxy itself…


DRAMATIS PERSONNAE:

ALDEN ZAAT – Imperial Pilot, male Cerean form Cerea
CELOT RATUA DIL – Freelancer, male Zelosian from Zelos II
DARTH VADER – Sith Lord, male human from Tatooine
DEJAH DUARE – Aspiring artist, female Zeltron from Coruscant
JEELA MALADI – Freedom fighter, female Mirialan from Mirial
LARANTH TARAK – Former Jedi Paladin, female Twi’lek from Ryloth
NICK ROSTU – Whiplash partisan, male human from Haruun Kal
PAV ANJAX – Stormtrooper, male human from Coruscant
REBEKKA BROOD – Emperor’s Hand, female Zabrak from Iridonia
XANDER FOXX – Former Jedi Knight, male human from Alderaan

[Rain]

PROLOGUE

SPOILER: Click to show

The Senate buildings towered above all else on Imperial Center, but that was not always the case. It was once the High Jedi Temple that rose over all else like a shining beacon. Now it was merely a scrap pile, burnt down when the clones turned their backs on the Jedi Order.

But who could blame them?

Rebekka Brood scoffed to herself. She knew that the Jedi were narrow minded and dogmatic. They would have died out soon enough. They were hypocrites. They claimed to serve all. They claimed to be selfless. It was laughable!

Rebekka strode authoritatively into the crimson room. She was a Zabrak with pale skin, red eyes and braided jet black hair that curled just below the iconic horns that defined her species. She was born on Iridonia, abandoned by her parents and raised by the Emperor. She would be nothing without him. He taught her everything she knew and then some. She was absolutely loyal to him and him only, because she was an Emperor’s Hand. One of only a select few. But she was the best of the lot, and she knew it. The Emperor knew it. Everyone knew it, apart from the man standing in front of her. He was an idiot.

“Ah, Rebekka.” He said dryly, clearly far from being enthusiastic about the meeting. “You’re early… as usual.”

His face was pasty and his eyes surrounded by a wring of grey, giving the impression that he had gone millennia without sleep. His walk had become more of a stagger over the years and his tone was eerie and vile. Sate Pestage was a truly disgusting human being, and Rebekka had little time for him. If she could, she would have avoided him altogether. She was only here on her Master’s orders.

“I don’t take any chances.” She replied coldly.

The pair never did get on, and Rebekka doubted they ever would. She could not shake the feeling that Sate was somewhat jealous of her position in the Imperial hierarchy. On the surface Sate seemed to have more power than her. However an Emperor’s Hand came second only to Palpatine himself. Rebekka held a higher position in the Emperor’s inner circle than even Darth Vader! Although Vader was Palpatine’s apprentice, they held no trust for each other. Vader was a fool. He believed Rebekka to be a simple assassin, personally employed by the Emperor. He knew nothing of her skill. Her connection to the Force and her efficiency in battle, the fool remained oblivious to. And Vader himself had the nerve to hide an apprentice of his own. The Emperor knew all about Galen Marek, or Starkiller as Vader had egotistically dubbed him. Vader thought he could pull the wool over Palpatine’s eyes, but he failed to realise that it was he who was blind one.

“So what’s the mission?” Rebekka asked impatiently. In truth she was getting tired of these missions. There were always so easy. They almost seemed like a complete waste of time. Low-life thugs could probably do a good job. Rebekka had given up on hoping for a challenge. But she kept at it, for her Master’s sake.

“Actually,” Pestage answered, surprisingly in a less dull tone than usual, “This one might be hard.”

Hard? Hard!? As usual Sate Pestage was underestimating her. That was part of the reason why she loathed him so much. Rebekka failed to see the qualities that the Emperor saw in him.

“I think I’ll manage!”

“I don’t know,” He said sarcastically, “It would be an awful shame to lose you.” Rebekka would have killed that vermin Sate long ago had the Emperor allowed it. Without as much as a second thought.

Rebekka did not answer, she simply stared the old man down. This warranted a frown from Sate Pestage, who proceeded to lean over the desk and switch on the holoprojector. A man appeared. He was tall and of medium build, with ice white hair and cool blue eyes. He looked to be about Rebekka’s age, give or take a year or two. He didn’t look like much.

“Him?” Rebekka said in disbelief. Some challenge!

“Always so quick to judge!” Sate snapped, “Just keep watching.”

Rebekka gave a heavy sigh and directed her gaze towards the holoproj once more. The man was shifting about suspiciously, as if hiding from someone. Then he lip-synced something that looked impeccably like a swear word. He hastily moved back into a combat posture and two Imperial stormtroopers entered the hologram. They raised their blasters and fired. The man seemed like a goner. The holoproj then filled with light as the bolts were deflected straight back at the troopers. Both of them dropped simultaneously, and the man was left standing, a yellow lightsaber in each hand.

A smile crept across Rebekka’s face. She was both stunned and excited. Perhaps this time Sate was right. Though that did not make admitting it an easy task “I guess I was wrong.” She acknowledged. The words were clearly putting a smile on Sate’s gross visage. “Is he Jedi?” Rebekka quickly asked, denying Sate any more time to revel in his satisfaction.

“He was Jedi.” Sate replied, his smile slowly dissipating into his usual depressed expression. “The Jedi are no more. All that remain of their order these days are simple fools, following something held in a past glory. They are simple pests, but need to be dealt with nonetheless.”

Rebekka smiled again. A challenge at last! Her excitement was flared not least by the fact that she, like this Jedi, wielded dual lightsabers. She was looking forward to this already.

“His name is Xander Foxx.” Sate continued, “We believed him to be dead, but his resurgences of late have proved us wrong. He is an unpredictable one. Very dangerous. However the fact that we managed to spot him proves that he is getting sloppy. So are you still confident?”

“Of course!” Rebekka often tended to get frustrated when her skill was criticized, or in this case mocked, by a man who hid behind his politics! “This one will be easy.” She gave a chilling and malicious smirk, “And fun!”

[Rain]

Note: The prologue is short, but only because it's the prologue Chapters will be longer Chapter 1 on the way soon!

[Rain]

CHAPTER 1: PURGED

SPOILER: Click to show

Laranth Tarak gave a heavy sigh, her face dry and emotionless. As usual. She did not want to do the training exercise. However Laranth Tarak was far from arrogant. She was simply tough. Very tough. One only had to glance at her to realise it. She was a slender and attractive female Twi’lek, with a pale olive skin tone. Her face was smooth and clean, apart from a scar etched from the left side of her chin, running down the side of her neck. She attained it during an early mission against the Empire, which also lost her roughly ten centimetres of her left lekku.

Surprisingly, Laranth made no obvious attempt to hide these disfigurements, which was odd, taking into consideration her species, which often thrived off of their purity and beauty. She did not have the scarring removed and always let her left lekku dangle over her left shoulder, with the right one left hanging behind her back.

Was it a bold statement against the Empire? Was it a sign of the pain she went through?

Nick Rostu had often asked himself these questions, and a variety of others to go with them. In the end he figured that anyone ever understanding Laranth was about as likely as a Korun falling deeply in love with a Balawai. Probably even more so!

“Come on Laranth,” He urged, “If you don’t keep doing your training exercises you could end up looking like a Hutt in a standard year. I know what you’re like with those Kimmerkan steaks!”

Laranth held the same facial expression, not even remotely amused. Laranth Tarak was rarely in the happiest of moods. In fact Nick could not recall ever seeing so much as a smile dawn upon her face. Once again he conceded that Laranth’s mind was as complicated as domesticating a Krayt Dragon!

“Don’t lecture me Nick.” She said coldly, “What’s the point? We only have one training module and I’ve completed it hundreds of times!”

“The point is that you are one of the few remaining Jedi in the Galaxy! How do you think the others would react to you giving up?”

“Nick…” She replied gloomily, “The others are dead. Wiped out, purged from the Galaxy. My purpose isn’t to hold onto their honour, it is too survive. And even I know that living forever is hopeless, so I guess I’ll just have to take as many of those Imperial bastards down before I go.”

Nick frowned. Laranth could have quite a defeatist attitude sometimes. It contrasted off Nick’s cheerfulness and optimism.

“You aren’t the only one who has lost someone Laranth.” He said, for the first time with a small hint of disdain.

He thought of Chalk, whom he had loved. She died back on Haruun Kal. He never got to tell her how he really felt about her. He dreamt about her sometimes. But the dreams were more like nightmares. Chalk would be calling to him, Besh and Lesh by her side. All of Nick’s old friends. He would walk over to them, but they would seem just out of reach. So he would run. Yet he never seemed to get any closer. The harder he tried to reach them the further away they got. He hated the dream, it plagued him, filled him with guilt.

Why was he the one surviving when all of his friends had been killed?

Then of course there was the great Jedi Master Mace Windu. He too was now dead. But he did not deserve to die. None of them did. But one by one they fell. And Nick was left.

After a long serving career in the Republic Military, Nick was drafted into the Imperial Army, much to his chagrin. He detested the Empire. He loathed them for what they had done, for the Purge, and for covering up their deceit with lies. It was blatantly obvious what they did. Everyone knew it. But fear kept the systems in line. No one dared challenge Empire, as it could end up being the last thing they ever done! Nick was far from happy about his unwilling conscription, and done his utmost to be a pain in the ass for the Empire. Then one day he was given an order. An assassination order, an order to take the life of a woman, a young woman who was barely past her teens. Her name was Jeela Maladi. Nick couldn’t do it. So instead he killed the officers that were with him and fled.

Nick had a price put on his head. He was dubbed a wanted criminal. Though a death mark was not an easy thing to live with, Nick preferred life on the run than working for the Empire.

He eventually found himself on Coruscant, or Imperial Center as it was now known. He had frequent encounters with thuggish bounty hunters sent by the Hutts, in order to claim his bounty. Although Nick survived each time, he was slowly forced to the underlevels of Imperial Center. The slums. It was an awful place, but a haven for those that did not want to be found. Just like Nick.

One day he came across a Kitonak merchant being harassed by some Trandoshan thugs. Nick made a point of sticking up for the little guy, and this time it was no exception. The Trandoshans told him to but out, that it was none of him business. Nick refused.

Within less than a second Nick’s blaster was out and one of the Trandoshans were down, a blast to the chest killing him instantly. The other ran at Nick, punching him with such force that he almost lost consciousness. He could hear a vibro-blade being removed from its sheath. The Trandoshan was about to strike down, but Nick was Force Sensitive, meaning he had a slight foresight, granting him excellent reflexes. He rolled out of the way, the blade narrowly missing him. He delivered a sharp snap kick to the neck of the Trandoshan, momentarily stunning the beast. It was all the time Nick needed to spring to his feet, grab the vibro-blade and impale him.

The Kitonak turned out to be part of an underground resistance movement against the Empire, known as the Whiplash. When he was asked to join, Nick couldn’t refuse. Food, shelter and a strong possibility of death! What more could he have asked for!

These days Nick was a prominent member of the Whiplash, which was growing ever stronger, even managing to recruit a surviving Jedi. Laranth Tarak. Laranth and Nick became a duo, and often worked together on cases. Nick felt a connection with her. He was not attracted to her, but rather he seen her as his grumpy, Twi’lek sister. He liked to think she was fond of him also, but the Twi’leks grim persona made it impossible to tell.

Laranth sighed again. “Fine! If it’ll shut you up I’ll do the damn training module!”

“Yes!” Nick threw a fist in the air, “Rostu – one, Tarak – nil.”

Laranth simply looked at him. The look was almost one of pity. Then she spoke. “Shut up Nick.”

Nick muttered something under his breath, moved over to the console and flicked a red switch. He nodded towards Laranth who was positioned in the centre of the warehouse, her hands swaying beside the holsters containing her DL-44 blaster pistols. Laranth was never without the weapons. They were bonded to her like a Korun was bonded to their akk dog.

A female voice came from the console. “Sequence initiated.”

The area around Laranth turned from and grey and dingey warehouse to an equally grey and dingey alley. Laranth looked confused, and Nick gave a smile. Suddenly a droid jumped out from behind a scrap heap, aiming its hand at Laranth, and emitting a beam from it.

The droid was fast. But no-one could match Laranth for speed. If there was anyone out there that could match her reflexes, Nick would wax his eye-brows, paint his skin green and settle down with a Neimoidian!

The droid let out two green blasts that headed straight for Laranth. She twirled around, her lekku flying with her. Nick mused to himself. Laranth would make an amazing dancer! Laranth fired twice, once from each blaster. The two red bolts met the two green bolts with frightening accuracy, knocking them off course. The droid raised its arm to fire again, but it was two late. Laranth had already gotten three more shots off. The first hit the droids equivalent of a shoulder, dispatching the arm that it was firing from. The next hit its abdomen, sending shrapnel flying. The droid was beaten already, but the last bolt made sure of it, as it his the droid squarely between its photoreceptors.

The alley faded, and the warehouse appeared again.

“Sequence complete.”

Laranth spun her blasters and clasped them back into their holsters. She looked to Nick and something close to a smile crept upon her face. Close to a smile, but not quite getting there. “You changed the training module.” She said more brightly than usual.

Nick continued to grin. “You’ll find I’m full of surprises!”

His grin was cut off by a beeping noise. He put his hand in his pocket and pulled out his transceiver. He stared down and his mouth gaped open slightly. He looked up to Laranth. “I think we’ve found another Jedi!” He exclaimed.

Laranth snapped her head up. “Another Jedi?! Where?”

“Apparently there have been sightings of a lightsaber blade around Hurda the Hutt’s place.” Nick replied. Everyone knew of Hurda here in the slums. She was the major crime lord around these parts. Most Hutt’s had a palace to call there own, Hurda had had an average building. Still it was pretty extravagant compared to most other places in the underlevels.

Laranth’s eyes twinkled with steely determination. “Transmit back and tell them we’re on our way!”


* * *


Celot Ratua Dil awoke with a thud. His eyes opened, though he was still not fully alert. It took him the good part of a minute to realise he had fallen out of his bunk! He let out a groan and slowly pulled himself to his feet. He opened the shutters, and light flooded into the small apartment. He had to cover his eyes. Normally he loved light. His species looked just like humans, but they didn’t act like humans. They walked and talked. But they did not eat or drink.

Zelosians had no need for food. They had the ability eat, but doing so would be a complete waste of time. They were rarely hungry or thirsty. In fact only in the darkest of environments was food a necessity. They used the light to photosynthesize, in other words convert the light energy into their own energy. The light was their food and their drink, in a manner of speaking.

Still the last thing on Ratuas mind this day was the light. He had a splitting headache, and cramps everywhere. The classic symptoms of a hangover. Sure Zelosians did not get thirsty, but that didn’t stop them from drinking alcohol. Especially not Ratua! He was celebrating. Celebrating the beginning of the big time!

Just last night he had scored his biggest prize in a long time.

Ratua was not a criminal. He was not a bad person. He was just a little rough around the edges. He was a freelancer, moving from one system to the next, and earning cash through, for want of a better word, cons. Over the years Ratua had become great at it. It was basically his profession.

He left his home planet of Zelos II at and early age. Fifteen if his memory served him correctly. Not many would believe it but his family was actually rich. They owned a large accountancy firm on Zelos II which earned a high annual turnover and an excellent profit. He was set up for life! But Ratuas heart did not rest in accounting. He was a spirited youth who dreamed of bigger and better things. Money didn’t matter to him. Life was all about living! Accounting was a boring and tedious job. Ratua was a freelancer, and he always would be. Still he wished had taken a bit more cash with him. He barely had enough to survive these days.

So he had went full circle. From having money and no fun, to having fun and no money. However all that was about to change.

Ratua rarely went by his real name. And he would follow that same trend for the foreseeable future. The Imperial Center underlevels had a lot of information, available to anyone and everyone. For the right price of course! Ratua had fluked a win in one of the local casinos. The prize wasn’t a huge amount but was pretty big by his standards. Instead of saving the money however, which seemed to be the smart thing to do, Ratua decided to spend it on fake holo-identification. But this was no ordinary fake ID. It was an Imperial one! All the clubs and casinos on Imperial Center gave preferences to the Imps. They were always the big winners. And now Ratua would be too!

Ratua let out another groggy moan. He squinted slightly until his vision went back to normal. He loftily hauled himself over to the sink. He turned on the tap and caught the water in his hands, before splashing it over his face.

He stared at his reflection in the mirror and smiled. For someone living in near poverty he still had the looks! He shuffled his dark hair until it fell into shape. The combination of his black hair and his bright green eyes was a big hit with the ladies. But Ratua rarely had the guts to bring them back to his place, it was always theirs. Still it wasn’t any less fun!

However, despite keeping his good looks, there were clear signs of fatigue in Ratuas visage.

He gave a sigh, and then realised that he still had not so much as looked at the fake ID he had purchased. The very reason he had been celebrating! He walked over to his bag which was in the far corner of the room. He rustled through the mix match of items inside and pulled out a small silver slab.

He sat back on the bed and stared at the object resting in his hands.

“Let’s hope this thing was worth the price I paid!” He muttered to himself, for the first time feeling some doubt.

He exhaled in anticipation before pressing the small sensor pad on the ID. A holographic head appeared. The head was an exact match to Ratuas. The name beside it was Pav Anjax. . He scrolled through the information that was present in every Imperial ID. Pav was 29 years old, born on Coruscant, enrolled into the Imperial Academy 2 years ago. He was currently serving as a stormtrooper here on Imperial Center.

Ratuas lip curled up slightly into a frown. He was hoping for someone of higher status. But then his frown dispersed. A stormtrooper would more than suffice! He lay back on the bed, a grin firmly implanted upon his face.

“The name’s Anjax.” He said as if speaking to someone, “Pav Anjax! Pleased too meet y-”

He was cut off as his face turned as green as his eyes. He rolled off the bed and vomited all over the floor. He let out yet another moan. Later, he would celebrate some more, but for now he had to shake this hangover!

Damn karma!


* * *


“It is indeed a very nice item.” Said the Baron, “But then again, they always are!” He laughed slightly and said, “You know Dejah I don’t think I have ever encountered a piece of Ves’ work that I haven’t wanted to call my own!”

Dejah Duare smiled back at the Baron. Baron Vlaçan Umber was a Vindalian noble, a species which liked to keep to themselves, but where very friendly once you got to know them. They were near human, and the females were bigger than the males. The Baron too was a friendly man. He and his wife had settled here on Imperial Center many years ago.

The Baron himself was a lover of art. He was particularly interested in light sculptures. In fact that was how he came to meet Dejah. Dejah’s partner was a Caamasi called Ves Volette. He was one of the most famous light sculptures on Imperial Center. People came from far and wide to purchase his works. But no-one bought more than the Baron. He never once turned down an original Volette. He loved them. Over the years he had become more than just a patron. He had become a friend of Ves Volette, and in turn became a friend of Dejah. His wife was not as keen however. Dejah figured she was jealous. Her husband spent more time admiring his Volettes than he did admiring her. Despite her apparent lack of taste though, she too was a very welcoming and friendly individual. At first there was some tension between her and Dejah. The Baron was obviously attracted to Dejah, but only because of her pheromone emissions. Over time Baroness Umber grew to accept that this was just the nature of the Zelosians. They could only control it to a certain degree. An attraction was almost inevitable.

“Well thank you again for your purchase Baron.” Dejah replied with a smile, “Ves puts his heart and soul into all of his sculptures. Even his very small ones. He has become increasingly passionate about them of late. Ever since… the destruction of Caamas.”

Vlaçan put a hand on Dejah’s shoulder. “How is he doing?” He asked, clearly concerned.

Dejah sighed. “He is holding up.” She said, her voice full of sorrow, “Just about. He has become increasingly outspoken however. I worry about him. He even criticizes the Empire through his art. I worry that one day someone will get tired of him and his subliminal statements. We all know what the Emperor is capable of.”

Dejah was referring to the destruction of Caamas, which had taken place roughly a standard month ago. The Caamasi were a peaceful species, but they were very critical of the tyranny and dictation of the Empire. Caamas was all but a wasteland now, almost all of its inhabitants wiped out. 85% in total! The official statement given by the Empire was that a cluster of space mines left by the Separatists had collided with the planet. That was obviously a lie. The Caamas had technology which would pick the cluster up. It was the Empire who unleashed their wrath upon the planet. They were evil. And Dejah would jump at the chance to gut the Emperor in person. Ves was still feeling the effects of his trauma today. His species held a special link with each other. Although he was here on Imperial Center at the time, he suffered terrible pain. And then of course there was the grief that came with it. Though slowly, very slowly, he was pulling through. He was determined to get back at the Empire. But through peaceful means rather than using violence. All his species were peaceful. The Empire showed their cowardice in attacking Caamas. And now every freedom fighter in the Galaxy had a reason to rise up. Dejah hoped with all her heart that they would succeed. Their will would no doubt be strong, but wars were not won on determination.

“Dejah I have known Ves for quite some time now.” Umber said with a reassuring smile, “He knows his limits. He will be fine.”

Dejah dissolved her from. Vlaçan Umber always knew the right words to say. And he was probably correct. Ves was angry, but not foolish. Dejah knew him well enough to know he would not put her in danger also.

“Oh! Dejah dear!” A voice exclaimed from inside the house. It was Baroness Umber. She, being the female, was bigger than her husband. “I didn’t know it was you! I should have known why my husband was gone so long! No doubt drooling over another Volette I take it!”

Dejah laughed! “Men never change!”

“Will you be staying, dear?”

“Actually no.” Dejah replied, “I would love to but I have to get going. Ves will be expecting me back soon. The man is known for many things, but his patience is not one of them! Well, except when it comes to his art that is!” She gave a quick glance at her holo-watch. “Oh I didn’t realise the time. I’m sorry to seem abrupt but I really have got to go.”

“Not a problem.” The Baron said. “I eagerly await your next arrival. I always welcome an opportunity to add to my collection of Volettes!”

Dejah said her farewells and walked down the street to her air speeder. Once there she pulled out her comlink and entered Ves’ frequency. She was contacting him to let him know of the purchase. Not that it mattered. The Baron always bought whatever pieces were presented to him. He couldn’t get enough! But contacting Ves was simple protocol, a habit developed over time.

The comlink rang out with no answer. Dejah grunted. Typical Ves! This wasn’t unusual. He rarely answered his comm whenever he was working on a new piece, and it would be incredibly unlikely that he would answer it now that he seemed to be working more than ever.

She put her comlink away and started up the speeder. It was a vibrant shade of purple that matched her hair, and complemented her pink skin tone. The journey back to the apartment that she and Ves shared was not long. Although they lived together, they were not romantically involved. They were business partners, and very good friends. She saw the potential in him, and he obviously shared a similar view about her. They made a great team.

She parked the air speeder outside the apartment and locked it. Upon getting the money from the last purchase she headed inside. No doubt Ves would neglect to answer the door, an occurrence that Dejah had gotten used to, so she had her own key card. She swiped it in and the door slid open.

“Ves, Ves, Ves… honestly one of these days I’m going to kill-“

Dejah stepped back, a look of sheer terror implanted on her face. She could not speak. She was in shock. She did not want to look at the sight she was transfixed upon and yet somehow her mind would not let her divert her gaze. There, in front of her, lying in a pool of his own blood was Ves Volette. Dejah finally managed to let out an inaudible shriek. She stumbled backwards out the door of the apartment, and ran. She didn’t know what she was doing or where she was going. She just ran.

Dejah did not stop to take in her surroundings, she just continued to run. She made her way into a back alley, and as she turned the corner she clashed into another person. She fell but the other managed to keep their feet. It was a figure wearing a black ribbed jacket with a hood attached to it.

They put a hand out to help Dejah to her feet. She didn’t take it; in fact she barely noticed it. She was still reeling from the shock of the entire ordeal. The figure seemed to sense her shock, and slowly pulled down his hood. He was a young man with styled hair that was snow white, with bright blue eyes. He was clean shaven with a medium build.

“Are you alright?” He said calmly.

Dejah could not bring herself to give a proper reply. She simply said, “He’s dead! He’s dead!” The man replied by giving a confused look. “He is dead!” She said again, “Ves is dead! He… he has been murdered!”