Author's Games: Star Wars

Task Five: Yuurei

I stare at the sand covered floor of the arena and the crowds filling the stands through the small window of my cell. This time they're real. Time seems to slow as my gaze fixates on the pulsating, buzzing blade of the guillotine. I have failed. I couldn't kill Vader or Sidious, and I'm a mess now. Blood is gushing down one leg and an arm, my face bears a nasty cut on my left cheek, and I can barely breathe without pain.

My eyes go back to the despairing faces of those chained beside me. Kanan, Adaara's husband, sits dejectedly on the floor with his arms chained above him. My heart drops, and I look at the stone floor of our cell. It's my fault she isn't here. I couldn't even avenge her or Zillah. I am worthless. I should die here. That is what I deserve. Even if I don't, I'm barely standing right now. The only thing keeping me upright is tapping into the Force.

"K-kanan," I whisper, shoulders slumping as I cough up blood, the one word already too much.

His pain-wracked eyes lift to meet my gaze. "What?" he asks, his voice a toxic mix of pain and anger. I can practically hear the defeat oozing from his voice in that one response.

"I... I'm sorry I couldn't s-save her," I rasp, spitting a mouthful of blood onto the stones.

The guards outside our cell glare at us, leveling their blasters at us.

"You two, shut up," one says.

I hang my head, unable to look at Kanan anymore. The betrayal and angry in the man's expression digs into my very soul. A tear slips down my bloodied cheek. That anger and betrayal is there because of me. She isn't here because I let her die! I let the woman he loves die. And I didn't even have the decency to avenge her.

It doesn't matter that I tried to because I failed. If you have a job to do and you fail, you still didn't do the job. You have still fallen short and are worthy of punishment for the failure. Well, I will get what I deserve soon enough.

My eyes sting with tears. There is only one thing left that I can do. And I will do it. It is going to cost me my life, but I am going to do it anyway. No matter what I have to do and no matter the sacrifice, I will help these few that remain. Only a handful of our original group remains, and I am going to fight with all I have left to make sure those few live today and for a long time after.

The door swings open, and I look up, silently burning with anger inside. The stormtroopers guarding us storm in, grabbing prisoner after prisoner. They unchain us from the wall and drag us from the cell one by one. Some still resist. The slaver woman does so. They break her legs and drag her from the cell anyway.

When it's my turn, I stare at the guards, not caring. This is just one step closer to my end goal anyway. I don't resist as they unchain me and roughly drag me, limping and gasping for breath, out into the halls leading into the arena. The crowd goes wild as we're dragged into the light. I watch as the first person is forced to the guillotine.

She's a slender young woman, just a girl in my eyes. But when her eyes meet mine, I see the weight of time and travesty ravaging her soul. She's bloody, her clothing ripped and her hair a tangled mess around her shoulders. The crowd is laughing and pointing; she wasn't in the cell with us before we were brought out, so she must've been out here. Their attention is mostly focused on her. I can only imagine what horrible things they must've done to her. She looks like she can barely stand, and I hear a cry of anguish from her over the dull roar of the crowd around us. The stormtroopers shove her to her knees, placing her head on the hollow slot. The force field engages, immobilizing her.

I watch, unable to look away. She stares back, and somehow I feel like I'm giving her strength simply by holding her gaze. I'm probably imagining things; who really feels better dying while locking gazes with a Sith? It was my kind who landed her here, after all.