A Star Wars Soliloquy by MsFicwriter, ©2013
ABOARD THE RAVAGER, FLAGSHIP OF DARTH NIHILUS
Why do we speak of being ‘blinded by the light’, when darkness does the same, and far more quickly?
My Master came for us upon our homeworld of Katarr, when the sun was at its zenith. At first we thought his ship was a harbinger of protection, perhaps sent by the Republic to patrol our skies. We soon discovered that the Ravager, aboard which I now meditate, had come to ravage us. It was a reaper, a harvester of souls, with the Lord of Hunger wielding his most singular blade. No weapon, not even a Sith’s lightsaber, can compare to the threshing power of the Force. I and my race, the Miraluka, were as wheat.
We might have been safe, were it not for the Jedi.
We might have gone undetected, if the Council hadn’t come here to try and detect the hidden Sith threat.
Only three things now frighten me: my absent eyes, my Master’s craving, and the two who walk with him. Alone, his ravenous drive can scour planets free of every spark of life. Together, with the Lord of Pain and the Lady of Betrayal, they will seize the galaxy by its throat. Only when it is nearly dead will they squeeze.
I welcome that moment. I, out of all my people, have seen the galaxy for what it truly is. He
Before this, however, Nihilus - his name deriving from an ancient word meaning nothingness - found me amongst the millions of corpses on Katarr‘s surface. He is just as blind as I am, at least when it comes to his physical sight. Through the Force, however, he not only sees, but feeds. I wonder: why didn’t he consume me as he did all the others? Why didn’t he see past the quivering meat of my frightened frame in order to siphon my soul? That is what his appetite demands: spirit, not flesh, and it is never sated.
Perhaps he means to drain me slowly, as mother banthas are milked first before they’re slaughtered. I can feel his touch upon me, light as a feather, yet cold as the vacuum of space. He doesn’t have to lay a hand upon my body. If he did, I wouldn’t feel it. A side effect of being in his presence, even when I’m not directly before him, is the inability to experience pain. I didn’t even know that the orbs of my eyes had been removed, after that moment, until I felt the blood pooling in both of my upturned palms. Agony is lost to me, but sensations such as wetness are not. It is the only way that I can bear his discipline, his justice.
One of the reasons that the Jedi are so weak is that they seek to alleviate such suffering. I say there is a gift in it, a purpose. My Master’s torment takes many forms, and death is the most merciful of these.
Make no mistake: my fellow Miraluka are dead, but not in the sense in which most of us know it. Instead of their bodies being intact shells where their minds once resided, they’re imploded. They’ve collapsed inward upon themselves. Such is the power of his devouring sense, that it crumples flesh and bone as that essence which keeps it alive is suctioned outward. Hiding among the slain, I watched him feast upon those not yet taken. He never opened his mouth to eat, but Nihilus’ nostrils flared. With palms facing outward and curled into claws, he focused his anger, inhaling the terrorized spirits of my fallen brethren.
Where are those spirits now? Inside him,
increasing his power, and squirming ’til the last. Unlike ordinary food, which is first consumed and then excreted, my Master’s meals remain within his form and do not die. Little by little they are diminished, but I suspect they are never completely dissolved. Only if he dies - and how do you kill a ghoul that is no longer flesh and blood? - will they ever be free. What parts shall remain? Will there be anything left of the hundreds of millions upon which he has nourished himself for decades?
And what of his own spirit? All Sith, no matter how far they’ve fallen, possess one. Is his completely gone?
It is what I fleetingly glimpsed, through the Force, before my real eyes and the Sight were robbed from me.
If I hadn’t tried to look that far, to probe that deeply into his true substance, would I have been spared? I may be alive, but so are his other thralls aboard this ship. Like me, they scurry to serve, automatons. When I look at them, I feel nothing but an empty sort of relief. It is what we deserve, and nothing less.
What my Master showed me, before applying his eviscerating power to my wet eyes, was the universe uncloaked. I saw billions of flames, each one representing a living being. Some blazed, like the twin suns of Tatooine, and others flickered, dying. Each flame struggled to grow and increase its luminescence: some by reaching upward and drawing upon life‘s essence, and others by absorbing neighboring flames. It was these that I instinctively recognized as souls of murderers, bounty hunters, and assassins - or, at least the brightest ones. All of the animate beings in the galaxy were one of two kinds: predators and prey.
I witnessed this, and I wished to die. I still wish it, but know that Nihilus will never release me. I will either be at his feet or inside his belly, and both are abhorrent to me. Many think death is the most horrific lot that can befall one, but I know better. For me, there is no greater terror than to be eternally used,
When the end comes for this galaxy, I yearn to be truly dead. Let the Triumvirate conquer and live in the formless void which they’re creating, dead world by dead world! They’d be fools not to destroy themselves first. When all sources of power have been exhausted, then what else shall there be? If Nihilus is not vanquished, he will devour Sion and Traya, and then himself. I do not wish to imagine his final fate.
Will he save me for last, the final delicacy to be savored before nothing else exists to feed him?
Such a thing I cannot see, even through the Force. Would I even wish to if I still had that power?
I am a Miraluka, the one and only, existing but already extinct.
My name is Visas Marr, and I am sightless.
~ FIN 10/31/13 ~