Listen. Just listen to me for a second here. Smol Ani… in air jail. He’s being an annoying lil shit so Obi-Wan just lifts him up and holds him there. It works. Like when you have a really annoying barky dog and lift them up and they go Silent.
Now that that’s in your head… he should do that to adult Anakin too I feel like that would keep him in line for years to come. Just lift his ass with the force and that chosen one is Silent.
Sometimes dragons are capable of making friends. To these friends, they give gifts. And these gifts act as messages to other dragons saying “don’t harm this one, they’re special.”
During a near-death experience, you came face-to-face with the God of Death, and pleaded to be returned to the world of the living. He granted your request, and sent you away with the chilling parting words: “Why should I regret letting one soul go, when I stand to gain so many more in return?”
I felt my body growing weaker and weaker as I lay on the cold stone floor, my vision blurring and my breaths becoming shallower. I knew that I was close to death, and despite my Jedi training, I was filled with a sense of fear and uncertainty. I was not ready to leave this world, not yet. But as the darkness threatened to swallow me whole, I felt a strange sense of peace wash over me.
Suddenly, I was no longer in the temple. I was standing in a vast, dark void, with nothing around me but emptiness. At first, I thought that I had died and that this was the afterlife. But then I saw him - a figure in black robes, with a pale, skeletal face and eyes that seemed to glow with an eerie light.
It was the God of Death.
I felt a shiver run down my spine as I realized where I was. I had heard stories of Jedi who had encountered the God of Death before, but I had always assumed they were just legends. Yet here I was, face-to-face with the deity who ruled over the realm of the dead.
"Why have you brought me here?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
The God of Death regarded me with those cold, unfeeling eyes. "You are close to death, Sinvulkt," he said. "Your time in the mortal realm is coming to an end."
I felt a surge of panic rise up in my chest. I wasn't ready to die. There was still so much that I wanted to do, so much that I wanted to see.
"Please," I said, falling to my knees. "I'm not ready. There's still so much that I need to do."
The God of Death regarded me for a moment longer before speaking again. "Very well," he said. "I will grant your request. But know this - you are only delaying the inevitable. Your time will come, as it does for all mortals."
With those words, I felt a sudden jolt, and then I was back in the temple, gasping for air as I struggled to cling to life. But the God of Death's parting words lingered in my mind, chilling me to the core.
"Why should I regret letting one soul go, when I stand to gain so many more in return?"
It was a sobering thought, and one that stayed with me long after I recovered from my near-death experience. I knew that I had been given a second chance, but I also knew that my time in this world was limited. And so, I resolved to make the most of the time I had left, to live every moment to the fullest and to make a difference in the galaxy while I still could.
For I knew that when the God of Death came for me once more, I wanted to be able to look him in the eye and say that I had done all that I could with the time that I had been given.
★ ☆ ★ ☆★ ꒰ঌWaking up໒꒱ ★☆ ★ ☆ ★
I woke up to the sound of my own gasps, my heart pounding in my chest as I tried to make sense of what had just happened. I had been on the brink of death, facing down the God of Death himself, and somehow, I had been granted a reprieve. But at what cost?
I shuddered as I remembered the chilling words that had been spoken to me before I was sent back to the world of the living. "Why should I regret letting one soul go, when I stand to gain so many more in return?"
What did it mean? Was my life nothing more than a pawn in some cosmic game of life and death? Was I only alive because it served some greater purpose for the God of Death?
I tried to shake off the fear and uncertainty that was gripping me, taking deep breaths to calm myself down. But the memory of that encounter lingered, haunting me long after the adrenaline had faded.
Days turned into weeks, and weeks turned into months, but I couldn't shake the feeling that I was somehow marked by the experience. I found myself growing increasingly restless, as if I was waiting for something to happen, for some other shoe to drop.
★ ☆ ★ ☆★ ꒰ঌPost-Order66, Fallen Knight໒꒱ ★☆ ★ ☆ ★
The body of my first kill lay before me, lifeless and still. A chill ran down my spine as I realized the gravity of what I had just done. I looked up at the night sky, and the words of the God of Death echoed in my mind.
"Why should I regret letting one soul go, when I stand to gain so many more in return?"
How many more souls would be lost because of me? How many more would fall by my hand? The weight of the lives lost, both directly and indirectly because of me, was crushing.
Tears streamed down my face, mixing with the blood on the ground. But I didn't even notice them. All I could think about was the damage I had done, the people I had hurt.
I had always believed that I was doing the right thing, that my actions were justified. But now, as I stared at the lifeless body at my feet, I couldn't help but wonder if I was wrong.
Had I become a monster in pursuit of justice? Had I strayed too far from the path of the Jedi?
I knew that I had to live with the consequences of my actions, and that they would haunt me for the rest of my life. But I also knew that I couldn't turn back now.
I had made my choices, and I had to own them.
As I stood there, lost in thought and contemplation, I realized that I had a choice to make. I could let this kill consume me, turn me into a soulless killer, or I could use it as a reminder of the cost of my actions.
Scélérat shifted his red blade closer to Pat’s throat. He held the frightened Togorian in a solid armlock, and there was no way for the feline to escape without impaling himself on the weapon. The smell of singed fur teased my nostrils, and thick fear permeated the Force. If I wanted my Padawan to survive a bit longer, I had no choice.
I let my two lightsabers drop, wings limp. They turned off mid-fall, their handles clattering on the ground.
Binders landed in front of my feet. “Put them on.”
I picked the restraints up, tail lowered in submission. They were heavy, and I could hear complicated Force-suppressing machinery buzzing inside. I gulped.
“Do you want your Padawan to survive? Put. Them. On.”
Scélérat’s lightsabers shifted oh-so-closer to Pat’s skin, and the burned smell weighed more heavily in the air. Slowly, I closed the manacles around my wrists. Like I feared, as soon as the binders locked, the Force disappeared from my senses. I stumbled under its sudden absence.
Seeing I was restrained, the theelin threw Pat away with enough force to break a bone. I flinched at the whimper that escaped Pat’s throat. I longed to go by my Padawan’s side, to check and fuss over his injuries, to protect him under a thick feather veil so that the world would never hurt him again.
A glance at Scélérat assured me that moving would put my Flock in even more danger. No one raced to Pat’s side and he collapsed, alone and unconscious.
The theelin bent, gathering my lightsabers.
“You haven’t changed, have you?” he sneered. “Sinvulkt, the governor’s tamed little pet.”
