He sat upon that hill, that old dirty hill with a few pockets of grass left in it. He sat upon that hill, and he cried.

Crying was not something he was entirely used to doing. Throughout all of his years in this galaxy, despite the firestorm he had been through, crying was still not something that he often had time for. While there is no denying that, especially in the past five or so years of his life, none could have faulted him for settling down in some dark and damp corner and bawling his eyes out, he had never seemed to have had the time for it. Most of the time he had been too busy trying to avoid being killed, and doing a great deal of killing in retaliation.

In fact, the only time he could really remember crying like this, crying as hard as he was crying right now, had been in the quarters of his star destroyer…his star destroyer, that thought unnerved him and caused him to cry harder…immediately after he and the other survivors…that word caused a fresh wave of tears, and he shuddered as he rocked back and forth…had been evacuated from the smoldering ruins of Orilcia, Ossus, the ruins caused by Grand Admiral Thrawn himself.

Ever since then, he had been too busy trying to live to see another day to be very concerned with things like crying or emotions or any of that nonsense. But he had spent half a year in the peaceful city of Theed, Naboo and he had had an awful lot of time to think and philosophize and drink in excess so now here he was, sitting upon that old dirty hill with few pockets of grass left in it. Here he was, sitting upon that hill and crying. Here he was, once again, at the grave of Gash Jiren.

“Master? Master is that y-”

The lightsaber sprang to life, its red blade illuminating the shadows where its owner had been hiding. Around the Noghri, more lightsabers hissed. All of them red, blood red. Four in all. They had him surrounded. He fumbled through his robes, searching desperately for his com link, to no avail.

“Looking for this?” the first Sith hissed, illuminating his own face with the lightsaber and also the com link he dangled in the air with his off hand, “Do not worry. Your Master will be aware of our presence here soon. And then he, like you, shall die.”

Twirling in a circle, the Noghri shed his cloak forcefully in the direction of the speaking Sith, bending onto his haunches as he spun. The cloak served as enough of a distraction for him to get his lightsaber out and activated before the onslaught of the Sith.

He deflected three lightsabers away as he came out of the spin, beating them away more than anything in his desperation. The maneuver had fulfilled its purpose in keeping the Sith at bay. With a little aid from the force, but due to no small contribution of his species’ natural physical strength, he back flipped out of the circle, landing nearby a very angry Sith.

The Sith’s lightsaber swung, and his lightsaber met it.

Zark? Wake up Zark.

His eyes snapped open.

He had not been sleeping, but meditating. The sobs had passed momentarily, although he could feel a fresh wave brewing deep within. He had taken these moments of respite to calm himself as much as he could, and also, though he was hesitant to admit it, to search out for that presence…that familiar presence.

When a Jedi dies, his presence leaves his body. Where the presence goes…well, needless to say that has been the source of debate for as long as there have been Jedi. But whether they become one with the Force or they enter some sort of utopian afterlife or anything of the sort, it is commonly agreed that in some cases, special cases, there have been presences that have lingered. Whether it be to aid the living still or for more selfish reasons, it has been known to happen.

And when it does, it feels as if they are alive again, only faint. If you reach out hard enough with the Force, you can sense…

“Searthen?”

It was more of a croak than anything. He was still suffering from the symptoms of his tears. He closed his eyes once more and reached out. There was…yes, he could feel it! A presence, at first almost too faint to pick up, but it was slowly growing. It was…it had to be…it wasn’t. This was not the presence of his former master, but something about it…

Zark.

“Who’s there?! Stand and unfold yourself!”

Get up and fight, Zark.

“What…what does that mean? I’ve been doing what Searthen has asked!”

I’m not speaking in metaphors. Stand up and fight.

“…what?”

Visiting this grave, meditation, even the tears I can understand. But to close yourself off from your surroundings completely…you know better.

His eyes snapped open. Behind him, the sound of activating lightsabers could be heard.

“Shit.”

Get up and fight, Zark. Be quick, there is not much time.

“Shit is right,” a voice behind him hissed, “Your apprentice is dead, and you will soon follow.”

Slowly, he rose to his feet. He opened himself, wincing slightly. Any Jedi could tell you that there was always a certain amount of pain that came with reaching out in a graveyard. But amongst the presence less corpses he could feel his attackers. There were six of them, in a circle around the hill. All held activated lightsabers in their hands, save one. The speaker.

“If you go without a fight, I might just decide to kill you painlessly,” the speaker said, and he could feel the grin on the man’s face, “I doubt it.”

The Sith slowly advanced up the hill. Halfway up, they noticed something very wrong with the situation. Their prey was laughing, actually laughing. They paused, hesitant, unsure of how to respond to this. They were used to dealing with the fearful, those who would beg for their life, or at best those who would die honorably and emotionlessly, a Jedi-like death. But this…something about that laugh chilled them all to their core.

“Do you know who I am?” his voice boomed, and it was altogether unlike the quivering voice they had silently mocked moments before, “Do you have any fucking idea?”

“What does it matter?” the speaker’s voice rang out, but it sounded somehow so much more hollow and pathetic than it had moments before, “Six Sith against one pathetic Jedi. Do you honestly hope to survive?”

“Survive?” he echoed, as if testing the word, “Oh you poor man, you have no idea.”

There was a brief whirring and clanking sound, and to the shock of the Sith, a golden blade erupted from the right sleeve of his robe. The Sith rushed him, only to be blown back forcefully. A shockwave radiated down the hill, ripping out the little grass left and causing explosions of dirt.

His hand shot up, palm raised up at the sky, and slowly a ball of light began to form. It grew, and grew, and the Sith managed to make it to the base of the hill when it finally exploded, sending a brilliance of light outward, too bright for the eyes to handle. Four of the six went down, clawing at their eyes. It was not permanent, but it would last long enough.

Long enough for them to die.

The last one took a long time to register the fact that he was dead. In an almost beautiful feint, he had cut straight through the man’s torso. His foe still looked at him, however, a dumbfounded look upon his face. The dead man’s companions lay on the ground around him, and all of them shared equally surprised looks upon their faces.

They might have overpowered him had he been just a Jedi, but it was more than obvious that none of them had expected to contend with a Noghri. There was something almost graceful about the fighting style of his species. Graceful…and terrifying. Even so, it had taken him some time to dispatch them all, having to fight cautiously, and he had lost precious time.

He stumbled over a corpse, around the spaceship, just in time to see a brilliant light radiate in the distance, in the direction of his master. It illuminated the horizon for five seconds, and then faded. He took off running.

“Th…there will be others like me,” the dying man hissed, “Others to take my-”

“Oh shut up,” he interrupted brutally, “You have no idea how many times I have heard that bullshit.”

Raising his arm, he plunged the golden blade into the man’s, who had previously been the leader of the six Sith, chest. It had been a while since he had been in combat, but some things were hard to forget. The Sith had gone down quickly and altogether completely surprised. Slowly, he trudged back up the hill, and sat down, catching his breath.

The golden blade retracted, and once again the prosthetic that served for his right hand was in its place.

“What the Force were six Sith doing walking around on Ossus?” he muttered to himself.

He fished a cigarette from somewhere within his robes, and lit it with a snap of his fingers.

Looking for someone.

The cigarette fell from his mouth as he jumped to his feet.

“Searthen?!”

No, not Searthen. He is gone, Zark. I am sorry to say it, but he is. The man spent his entire life fighting for something better, and I do not blame him for taking his much needed, permanent vacation.

“Gone…” he whispered, almost unable to believe it, “Then you are…another? Like Searthen was?”

I am.

“Did I…did I…know you? In your life?”

You did.

“Reveal yourself,” he demanded, but even as he spoke them the words sounded hollow, “Please.”

A figure slowly faded into a translucent state.

“Who-” he broke off, his bottom lip quivering, “Oh no…no.”

Do not pity me, Zark. You may find it hard to believe, but where I am is a much better place, even if I choose to remain…halfway.

“But…Aenix, how?”

His thoughts flashed back to his attempted return to the Jedi Order. The reunion with his old friends. Aenix, who had been the hard-headed Padawan when he had trained under Amalia, had grown up to become the weapons master of the Order, assuming the credo Faceless One. One of Nathanial’s, another close friend, experiments had gone horribly wrong and…well, no one could blame him. The last time he had seen Aenix had been on the tainted planet under control of Darth Xoverus, right before he had…died.

The time of the Jedi is beginning to fade, Zark. I was just another casualty in a war we are slowly losing, inch by inch; a war of governments, of politics, of machines of war. The how is not important. Trust me, I’d know. Not much is important anymore.

Whatever past misgivings we may have had are not important. If it makes you feel any better, if I were capable of caring much anymore I likely would forgive you for everything. But I’m not here for that. I’m here to guide you from where you are now. Not for you, but for everyone.

“I don’t understand. None of this makes sense! When I spoke to Searthen, he told me to go to Theed! He told me to wait for…for someone, I don’t know. What is going on?”

Things have changed, Zark. Even the Force cannot see all things to come, at least us extensions of it. We do the best we can, and we make mistakes. But now you must listen to me. Can you do that?

“Speak; I am bound to hear.”

There is something terribly wrong with this galaxy. You know it. The soldiers of the Darkside are many, and those who defend the Light are few. This is true now even more than it was in the days of the old Empire, in the days where the Jedi were all but extinct.

Even those who seek to champion for the Light are falling, not to the Darkside but…something worse. As the Shadows of old, they seek to use less than admirable methods to achieve idealistic feats. And who can blame them? But they will not succeed, not this time. The Darkside is too strong…unless…

“Unless?” he echoed, “Speak!”

There is a man in this galaxy, a man you know much better than you realize. He is hidden, but not beyond your reach. You must seek him out, and teach him, although not in the way you might expect. In himself, he is not capable of ridding the galaxy of the Darkside, but the people he serves, the people he commands…

Know this, this is the most important thing left for you to do in your life. But many achievements await you more important than this.

“That makes no sense!” he cried defiantly.

Not now, but you will understand in time.

“Is there anything more you can say to help me?” he asked, “Some poetry, perhaps? Or a riddle?”

I can do you better. Travel to Coruscant, the Imperial Center. The disguised Sith of the Jedi Corps. has something of great value to your quest. You may find help there.

“Thank you, Aenix,” he said, bowing to the specter.

There is one more thing. One more, very important thing. These Sith you killed, they were not here by chance. They were looking for you, even if they didn’t know it.

“What?”

The Force has two sides, as you well know. Light and Dark. Both want to survive. While the Light guides you, the Dark seeks to destroy you. Let this help you understand just how important this task is. There will be more, many more. All Sith near you are now drawn to you; you are marked. They will keep coming, and will not stop until you are dead. You must not let that happen.

Kill them all.