Chapter One: Emlyn Falls

And then it was over.

The calm before the storm was a moment I’ll never forget. Even time knew its place, stopping to bear witness. A warm rain of flaking ash, the remains of a once heroic story, froze in mid-air but all I could see was his hand. Trembling. Reaching out to me. I’d never seen my father so frightened.

In the life of every hero there’s a battle, an epic battle that the hero must win to set the world to rights and this was his. I thought he would win. The hero always wins. The hero is supposed to win…but not today.

Rushing to his side, I fell to my knees, grabbing his hand hoping to feel the warmth and safety that I had grown accustom to but it was gone, replaced by a weak hand: a hand drained of life, without strength, dry and callused.

“Son”

I looked into his tiring eyes and he looked into mine. Every second since he lost was agony for both his body and pride; I saw a broken man. A knight stripped of his title, chained to the ground by a failure. Singular, but one loss is enough. He saw pity in my eyes and I regret that.

“I let them down, I let you down” his voice straining, tears leaving channels of purity down his ravaged, dust coated skin.

“No” I leaned in closer to him, wrapping my left arm around his waist while the other raised his head. I became his support. I became the only life he had left.

“You could never let me down, father” I said convincingly but in truth, he had. At one time I believed that this match, battle, duel – call it what you want - I believed that somehow it would restore some semblance of balance and order to an otherwise hostile world, more fight than outcome. I really believed that…so many of us did. We believed that no matter how vast the devastation, how great the distance, how unbeatable the opponent, he would be there to conquer the odds and prove to us all why he was proclaimed “chosen”. But as I watched him fade away, should I have realised that he was just a man, and men makes mistakes? Should I have felt proud instead of betrayed?

“They saw it all. They saw me fall, they’ll see me die and worse…they’ll enjoy it” he turned his head as much as he could, looking toward the horde of Bloodline soldiers standing around as a cloaked figure walked away. Void. I’d blocked them out, my only focus being my father, but as I plummeted back into this reality, my heart sunk even further and I felt a pressure in my head that I had only felt once before.

“Fett, listen to me. I know you’re afraid of what the future holds…” my concentration drifted to the soldiers who remained. I could hear them whispering about how my father wasn’t good enough and how they thought that even they could’ve beaten him. The pressure in my head was growing; I tried to stop it – I tried to calm myself down -

“His son’s staring at me”

“I wouldn’t worry about him; he’s no threat”

“Quiet!” I screamed. “Father, you can’t leave me here! You can’t leave me here alone!”

“Fett! List…me! Listen to…” he was trying to console me but I was too far gone; my anger and fear only added to the pressure as it spread to my ears. With every second I was losing my own battle. I knew what was coming.

“The kid’s really losing it. We should probably do something about it”

“Just tie him and up and throw him in some corner” one said prompting the others to start approaching.

“NO! FATHER! FATHER! YOU CAN’T LEAVE ME! YOU CAN’T-” I suddenly felt those hands, those dry, callused hands against my cheeks.

“LISTEN TO ME!” my father’s last words would be uttered in a way befitting of his life and experience but I wouldn’t hear them. I watched his mouth move but I couldn’t even try to interpret what he was saying, all I saw was a glow of light forming on his face. As it grew brighter, he became more frantic: his mouth moving faster and faster…

…Until I blacked out.

Hair like fire, eyes like a distant memory: Emlyn Monux, my father, hero to millions, died when I was 18-years-old.