Of Love and War Book 5: The Tragedy of Hope

Chapter 2: Remnants of a Now Dead World

Darkness was becoming a constant companion in her life. An entity that was always there, surrounding or looming over her. Now was no different. In fact, now it was stronger than ever. Darkness seeped into the universe, blanketing every living thing like a plague now that the Jedi had fallen and the Sith had seized control.

Even now Zelina found herself surrounded by darkness, unable to see any path or obstacles. There was just her...and darkness. Not even sound seemed to pierce its veil, aside from her own shallow breaths. And of course, where there was darkness, there was the cold...

Zelina's arms wrapped around herself as she looked futilely around, unsure where she was supposed to go. Was this dream...or vision? Did she even have a destination, or would whatever she was here for come to her?

Something pulled sharply on a part of her soul that had been integral to what shaped her into who she was today, a part of her that had been there for as long as she could remember—longer, even. And this pull was not a tug in the right direction—it was as if someone was trying to carve this piece of her soul away with a blunt instrument, brutally hacking at the root of her being.

With the pull came a vague purpose, as she stumbled in the direction it came as if to hold onto what some unseen force seemed determined to take. Her breath caught in her throat, hands clutching at her heart as if to preserve this integral part of her.

The sensation came again, stronger this time, sending her stumbling forward and onto her knees from the sudden pain that ripped through her entire being to the core of her soul. She cried out, tears springing free from lids squeezed shut, down her face as her fingers clutched tighter, digging into fabric and her chest.

"Zelina?"

She knew that voice. Force, that voice, it was a balm to her soul even now, after all that had happened. It stirred within her peace, love, comfort, happiness—it was the person who taught her those things and embodied them even in a cruel and war-torn universe. That voice resonated to the core of who she was, it brought a sense of stability, and for a moment, soothed the agony of soul and body to a whisper in the back of her mind.

Zelina opened her eyes once more, finding light had blossomed between her and the voice, enough for them to see and find one another despite the darkness.

"Anakin?" she murmured before another jagged edge raked at her soul once again. She whimpered at the feeling, palm slapping against the coarse surface below her as she pitched forward from the force of the violent attempt to tear a part of her out by the roots.

From the sound that came out of Anakin, her pain was only a shadow of his own.

She could barely see him just out of her reach, curled up on his side with convulsions of what had to be pain violently shuddering through his entire being. His arms were curled inwards, clutching at nothing for support, hands releasing and gripping against empty air with every wave. His head was ducked in at the fresh bought of pain, hiding his face from view, but his cry of agony cut her deeper than any weapon the galaxy could manufacture. If he did look at her, what she saw would no doubt be a fatal blow.

But she could not sit by when his pain ran so deep.

"Anakin," Zelina repeated, dragging herself forward as Anakin convulsed again, the knife in her own soul slicing deeper in sync with his agony.

She felt his hand first, fingers slipping across his palm and tightening around his hand in a grip that turned fingertips white, a force returned by Anakin's own crushing grip. A relieved sob seemed to bubble past Anakin's lips at the contact, at a comfort Zelina could feel his soul craving for as lungs craved oxygen and a heart, blood.