The Valley of Humiliation (Complete)

[Rev Solomon]

There was no pain. Even as his senses expanded, and he could see every needle of the tossing pine trees on the next ridge half a kilometer away, and feel the plash of every raindrop into hundreds of tiny particles of water on his scalp, and hear the wind crying a sepulchral chorus through the broken bones of the cathedral beneath his feet, Solomon was whole and at peace. If this was to be his dying day, then he would face the final judgment open-armed and unashamed.

But he would not be facing it alone.

As Acera lunged, so did he, with a burst of the Force to knock her gauntlet arm off its aim, and with his left arm he closed his hand around her fist, losing his index and small finger to the twin blades of her gauntlet, but holding her in an iron grip. With the still-smoking stump of his right arm, he pressed her to him in a desperate embrace so she could not pull away.

And then, fighting her strength for strength, he pushed against her weapon and lifted her arm to the sky, and the orange blades rose like towers pointing straight at the center of the storm, where power gathered like a coiling serpent.

Acera's hair and the edges of their clothes lifted into the air, which was filled with the sharp, biting scent of ozone.

And then the first bolt struck, a chain of elemental fury as hot as the sun cast between earth and the heavens that grounded itself on a point between the lightsaber blades.

And then the second, arcing from another spot in the clouds to the very same point.

And then a third, which forked and sent up showers of smoldering tiles all around them, and the gauntlet erupted in a blaze of sparks and came loose in Solomon's hand.

The fourth struck them head-on as Solomon's grip on Acera fell slack and lifeless around her.

And the fifth and final bolt sent Jedi and Sith flying off the rooftop in opposite directions into the oblivion of the storm.

[Darth Acera]

Her body was no longer her own, and Acera could do nothing as she felt herself slung away into the darkness of the storm, away from Sol. Her body tumbled along the slate roof, skidding over the slick surface like some stone tossed across the still expanse of a lake. She was aware, yet unable to halt her movement. She felt no pain, yet knew at the same time that the injuries she was gathering were indeed painful.

What was worse however, was that the world around her was white. A blinding light that did not fade was all that she could see, and that more than anything else terrified her.

She crested an overhang, and felt as she hit the slanted portion of the rooftop on her side. Feeble attempts that amounted to nothing more than a twitch of her hand did nothing to halt her movement, and she felt herself gaining speed. She knew that the ledge would soon come to greet her, and that she would be sent out into the open air to fall to her death.

If there was any comfort in the thought of her own death, it was that Sol too would meet the same fate.



Salvation came in the form of the ruined and destroyed cathedral itself, and the Sith was swallowed by a hole in the roof that'd been opened up over the course of the last terrible stages of the battle. She fell through the darkness, the trajectory and velocity of her body on its' descent sending her into a side wall.

She felt herself jarringly come to rest on the upper floor of one of the cathedral's balconies, shaking with the aftereffects of the brutal heavy hand of nature's raw power. She could smell the acrid scent of her own flesh, but it wasn't so much from the lightning than it was from that which she'd come to rest upon.

The silver crosspiece of the bishop's pole that Sol had used to defend himself with was beneath her, and the heat she could feel even through her clothing. Her spine arched, but it did no good as she felt the impression of the cross burning itself into her back.

Her grip on Sol's saber tightened, and she cried out, a sound that blossomed into a beastly roar, drowning out the rain and reverberating throughout the cathedral.

[Rev Solomon]

The thunder ceased, the clouds parted, and, as with all things, the storm came to an end. The sky was clear over the ruins of the Cathedral of Stars, an infinite canvas of jewel-bright constellations as deep as eternity itself. But riding high over the cathedral, if you had the keen eyes to see it, there was a tiny, shining light that had not been there when the cathedral was raised.

The medical shuttle Exodus drifted in a low orbit above the arc of Generis, catching the light of the morning sun before even the loftiest of mountains, waiting like a faithful friend for the call of its master. But the call never came, and the first light of dawn meant it was time to execute its final duty.

The cockpit holopad flickered to life, and the ghostly form of Reverend Solomon stood there in miniature and gathered himself as if to deliver a eulogy.

"My friends," he said, "hours ago I transmitted the time and coordinates where I confronted the Sith known as Darth Acera. If you are receiving this message, it means that I have failed in my mission, and that I am dead, or I soon will be. It also means that the Jedi we have known as Loklorien s'Ilancy is gone. I will not say, even now, that she is beyond redemption. But for the present, she is beyond our reach.

"I do not believe my death is a vain one. Yet I must apologize for leaving the Order in such a time of desperate need. To my fellow Jedi, I implore you to remember the mistakes of my generation, and to tolerate neither corruption, nor decadence, nor blindness to the suffering of innocents. For it is in the shadows of our pride that the Darkness hides and grows in power.

"To my friends, old and new, know that I have found peace. And I will see you again in a place where the Darkness has no foothold.

"May the face of God shine upon you, and may the Force be with you."

The image of Solomon flickered and disappeared, and the shuttle powered down. Far below, morning spread its light to the mountains of Generis, and the world was created anew.