» Who: Varinn Jayne
» Where: Coruscant, Lower Levels
» What: Varinn spends some time thinking about Jedi and Sith prophecies and who he would become.
There were legends and then there were prophecies. The Jedi Order had its fair share of both, though most of the Jedi themselves did not take much faith in either. Though one thing had stuck out to Varinn for quite some time — of all the prophecies that the Jedi had archived since the beginning, there was one that came up generation after generation.
The Chosen One. The balance of Light and Dark. The Saviour, the Hero, the Legend. The one born with the power of the Force that as a child could rival Masters, and would bring harmony between both sides of the galaxy.
As a young man, Varinn was constantly told that his power was exceptional. He grasped more difficult concepts as if they were basic steps. His struggles during his Jedi training were that of attitude and personality, not that of raw Force talent. His own Master had told him the prophecy of the Chosen One, and reminded him often that he could be the one to balance the universe.
He’d believed it, too. Of course, as Varinn grew older he realized that his Master had just been using it as a teaching tool, to coach him into pushing himself harder. However, deep down inside where he could feel his power, Varinn had believed that one day he would be the one to bring balance to the Force.
What the Jedi didn’t speak about were those that had also seemed to have been Chosen. Every generation seemed to have one, a Jedi Master that should have brought balance to the Force but hadn’t managed to. The Mandalorian Wars had seen Revan fall to the Darkness and then redeem himself. He had headed off into Sith space to destroy the Emperor, to bring balance and peace to the Force and the galaxy. What no one wrote about in their journals was that Revan had failed. The Emperor defeated Revan and continued to build his power, while the Chosen One had left behind the Order to deal with this failure in the future. The future, now.
Varinn sighed, pushing away from the desk and forcing himself to stand. He’d been reading over written notes and datapads for the last six hours, trying to connect the dots between what had happened and what he might become. Stretching, he picked up his cup of caff and walked across the barren Coruscant apartment towards the balcony, leaving the door open as he leaned against the rail to look out over the city-built-on-cities. As always, the planet was abuzz with life and activity, speeders and shuttles weaving in and out of the air between the buildings like multicolored insects in flight. It did little to free his mind from the thoughts that plagued him, but the “fresh” air and cold caff allowed him a moment’s distraction.
The Jedi had their prophecies, but so too did the Sith. Those were files that had taken more time and a little shameful begging to access, but eventually Varinn had managed to gain a copy of a few of the archived documents on what the Sith had believed to be true. Like most of the Sith’s practices, their own prophecy seemed like a twisted version of the Jedi’s; one meant to bring a balance of sorts.
The Sith’ari. The Sith’ari will be free of limits, the prophecy stated. The Sith’ari will lead the Sith and destroy them. The Sith’ari will raise the Sith from death and make them stronger than before. It was said that the Sith’ari would be nearly a force of nature, a being who was all perfect power, perfect strength, free of the shackles that bound the Jedi and Sith alike.
He sipped at the lukewarm caff and sighed, slowly shaking his head. He suddenly felt that he was being watched, though he felt no true threat from it. Any other day it might have worried him a little more — he’d been given the apartment by a friend and companion, a doctor who’d helped him during his travels and saved his lives more than a few times. None of his friends, nor any of JOUST Squadron, knew where the apartment was located so he didn’t need to worry about one of his friends coming to visit or break his concentration. Instead he simply lifted his drink up as in mock salute, then turned to head back inside, closing the door with his foot.
Glancing over towards the stack of papers and small pile of datapads, Varinn couldn’t help but wonder what he truly was meant to become. He’d spent his life believing he’d bring balance to the Force, but he’d done little but help the darkness spread through the Galaxy. Now he had signed a deal with a Sith Lord who had goals and aspirations of her own, but all he could do was plot and plan on how to betray their alliance when the time was fitting. He’d killed another Sith Lord on Illum and had — at the time — believed he’d even killed the Emperor himself, though in the end it had merely been one of the Dark Council in disguise. His visions were rarely peaceful and his sleep was filled with nightmares, yet all he could think of was how he needed to stop the Sith, even if it meant staining his hands with more blood.
One thought constantly nagged at Varinn; was it true that the Sith moved through their ranks by killing their former master? If he continued down this path, how long before someone would announce him as a Lord? On that day, could he deny it?