The Slithering Shadow
"Attention, passengers. We are approximately ten minutes from landing on Naboo. We will begin our descent shortly. Please ensure your belongings are secured and prepare for arrival."
The lush landscape of Naboo was vivid in his mind: rolling hills painted in vibrant greens, vast lakes that sparkled under the sun, and the grand architecture of Theed, the capital. It was a paradise, but it was also a place steeped in his past — a past he had not fully reconciled with. Memories flooded back to him of old friends,
Mak closed his eyes and breathed deeply, centering himself in the Force. The echoes of pain from the past still clung to its landscapes. Every Jedi was trained to confront their fears, and yet, as they neared orbit, he found himself grappling with a sense of anxiety.
As the transport ship settled onto the landing platform, Mak felt a surge of tension ripple through him. The voice of the pilot faded into the background as he gripped his cane tightly, the smooth wood pressing against his palm.
With the ramp descending, Mak steadied his breathing, feeling the warm rush of air greet him. This was it — the moment he had prepared for. He focused, centering himself in the Force, finding clarity amidst the swirling emotions. However, as he slithered off the transport, he couldn't escape the attention he drew from the other passengers.
"Is that a Jedi?"
"I like the hat he's wearing."
"Look at those arms! Can you believe it?"
Mak caught fragments of their conversations as he moved past them, feeling the weight of their curious gazes. He could sense the mixture of admiration and confusion; his appearance was unusual even among the diverse beings of the galaxy, and here on Naboo, the reactions were especially pronounced.
The sun warmed his skin, and he inhaled the sweet, floral scent of Naboo's landscape, a reminder of the beauty that existed even amidst turmoil. As he moved past the stunned passengers, he could sense the Force shifting around him, its currents alive with anticipation. It recognized the gravity of his purpose — his return to this world, where memories of joy mingled with shadows of sorrow.
As Mak continued to slither away from the transport, he took a moment to observe his surroundings more closely. The familiar sights of Naboo enveloped him, yet a dissonance rippled through the beauty he had once known so well. It was very much the same — lush greenery, serene lakes, and the soft golden light of the sun reflecting on the water's surface.
Yet it still felt absolutely different.
As Mak approached the space where the Jedi Temple had once graced Naboo, his heart sank further. The towering structure, with its elegant spires and tranquil gardens, was a memory now, a collection of homes, restaurants, and businesses teeming with life now in its place. The transformation of this sacred ground into a bustling hub of commerce and community felt like a bitter irony, a stark reminder of the shifting tides of reality.
His four arms felt heavier as he ambled past the small shops and eateries, the scent of baked goods and spices wafting through the air. Laughter erupted from a nearby café where patrons gathered, oblivious to the void that had once been filled with deep meditation and teachings of the Force. It was vibrant and alive, but it was not his place of peace.
Mak's beard sagged heavily, casting shadows on his chest as he took in the scene. What had once been the heart of a venerable order was now a marketplace bustling with ordinary life. Children played tag in the streets, and couples strolled hand in hand, all unaware of the weighty legacy that their carefree laughter was overlaying.
Standing there for what felt like an eternity, Mak allowed himself a moment to process the cacophony of emotions swirling within him. The vibrant life around him vibrated with energy and laughter, but he felt an undercurrent of loss, a yearning for what had been. Finally, he steeled himself and moved on, weaving through the throng, the energy of the crowd pulling him toward a familiar path.
After a time, he arrived at the grand entrance of the Royal Palace. The majestic structure loomed before him, its intricate designs still reminiscent of the elegance he remembered, though it seemed tinged with an air of nostalgia, as if it too was bearing the weight of change. The shimmering facade glistened in the sunlight, and the beautifully manicured gardens that surrounded it seemed to beckon him closer, evoking bittersweet memories of his previous visits.
Reaching within the folds of his robes, he pulled out a wooden box, its surface worn yet polished by time. Slowly opening it, a lush bouquet of flowers sat inside, their vibrant colors standing out against the muted backdrop of the palace steps. With delicate care, he placed the bouquet at the base of the steps, a solemn offering that resonated with love and memory. These flowers symbolized hope, resilience, and the beauty that still bloomed despite the struggles enveloping the Galaxy.
Staring at the bouquet, Mak sighed.
"I'm not sure if you can hear me, but I felt I needed to do this..."
It was as if he was speaking to ghosts, figures he could only see around him.
"I failed all of you. I thought that I was able to keep Malic at bay, to not let the darkness seep out and corrupt, yet my arrogance cost so much that day, with your lives. The school, Otoh Fasha..."
"But I stand here now, before you, and I make this vow," Mak continued, his voice gaining strength as he spoke to the ethereal assembly. "I will stop Malic. I will seek justice for all who were lost, for the dreams that was stolen from you. This time, I will not fail. I promise you that I will do everything in my power to see this a realization. I will never allow this planet to fall."
As if in response, a soft wind began to blow and the petals on the flower swayed softly before they became still again.
"May you all rest in peace..."
Reaching into his robe again, he pulled out his pipe and lit it up, allowing a steady stream of smoke to escape from his mouth as he continued to look at the flowers in silence.
