Memories.
A simple reminder of life's beauty. Blissful rapture or desolate nightmare, it doesn't matter. In these moments, life is worth living.
Ayden Quell's unconscious was reminding him of this now as he lay paralyzed on the cold cavern floor. The vision of his parents did a number on him. To protect him, his unconscious had to work quickly. It was that or catastrophic failure. And now, under the psychic machinations, a blizzard of memories fell haphazardly on him. The accumulation of snowflakes kept him oddly cozy, as though a Jedi cloak was laid about his shoulders, but instead of a robe there was a blanket of warm snow.
Underneath this blanket, in the confines of Ayden's soul, his psychic underlings began work like Christmas elves. They toiled with haste, burning every last drop of the midnight oil. They pushed the gears of his body and pumped the blood through his veins, in order to give him time to remember that life was worth living. It was that or freeze to death, and while not a particularly pleasant way to go, it would be a physical manifestation of the apathy the Jedi Padawan felt.
But now those gears pushed, as relentless as the storm of memories, and embers became wildfires. The tongues of the flames licked, twisting and leaping their way up through his body. The inferno danced its waltz, exerting themselves against the blizzard and setting alight the boy's soul. Memories melted away and Ayden began to wake.
The slippery borders of dream land dissolved.
With a dull ache in his muscles, the young Human rose. Ayden had finally come back to the land of the living. His blue-gray eyes were luminescent with a brilliance hitherto unknown and his soul burned hotter than Tatooine's twin suns. In the depth of the cave, Ayden was a singular brilliant gleam. The darkness around him seemed to disappear -- the jig was up! -- its domain was no longer absolute.
Padawan Quell turned to the image of his father. The merciless eyes of his paternal unit bore down into the depths of his being, but the boy did not slacken. He did not cower. This was the confrontation, the supreme culmination of all the decisions the boy had made. In his heart, the battle of light and dark was now waged. It was the ne plus ultra. Would darkness return or would the light repel it?
Then, suddenly, Ayden was no longer the only light that burned.
Snap-hiss.