Prelude

This time, the grip burned with the heat of his fury. This time, he would fulfill his promise. This time, he would kill me. I felt the skin of my throat crisp and flake away. I could smell the flesh of my face as it scorched in that fire. This had to be it. This had to be the end he had so often spoken of.

As my consciousness began to fade to black, everything was lit by brilliant blue. I could hear the gurgle of blood gathering in my master's throat, and hear the hiss of the blade that impaled it. I was barely aware that I was falling until I impacted the hardened and desiccated earth.

I gathered the Force to push away the pain, and to try to stand to face this unknown. I gasped, and collapsed again, realizing both of my arms were shattered. I struggled to open my mind to the Force, and in time, I was able to see. I saw my master dead, a strange look on his face, one I had never seen him wear, shock. This somehow managed to shake my apathy and I shuddered with fright.

Focusing, I pushed my sight farther, until I saw, standing above him, a man with the face of iron. So disparate from my master's face, which was always shifting as though a violent tempest, this man's face was stoic and calm. With a hiss, the blue of the blade disappeared, and the iron faced man reached down to me. I saw something in his otherwise impassive eyes that I did not recognize, and something I would struggle for the rest of my life to learn and to understand.

Mercy.