Cassian took a deep breath, the cold air filling his lungs. It was quiet here, only the occasional chirp of an animal or the cold breeze rustling the trees disturbed the silence. The forty-three-year-old closed his eyes, the light of the snow around piercing his eyelids. Taking one more breath, he opened his eyes, observing the frozen lake in front of him, and the snow-covered forest surrounding it. Behind him was a rocky hill, and his ship, a duplicate of the old Jedi fighters from the clone wars, with added hyperdrive and shielding. It was new. Cassian chuckled as he imagined how long his journey would take. That ship would be battered, maybe even destroyed at some point in his adventure.
As he reminded himself of his new trek across the galaxy, he realized the first problem. Well, he knew it'd be a problem, he just hadn't prepared for it.
He had no idea where to start.
Indeed, he knew he would visit every known planet in the galaxy. But where would he begin? He had landed on the first planet but now had no idea where he was going nor what he would get from his pilgrimage. It's times like these that made him wish he hadn't cut himself off from the Force. He yearned to feel the tugs that told him where to go. He wanted to feel the confidence it gave him. Earlier in his life, he would have landed and immediately gone somewhere, knowing it was where he needed to be. But that was forever ago. Or was it just days? It felt like yesterday he had fled from The Sith, ashamed of his twisted deeds. The alcohol and isolation had worked in that way. He had thrown away part of his life and it felt like days had passed, not years.
But the liquid didn't stop the nightmares, the guilt, the anger and pain. Only The Force had done that. Yet it was The Force that caused them...that's why he had cut himself off from the power that lived in everyone. He never wanted to see it again. It was a cancer, an illness, he hated it. Hate. A familiar feeling. It was also a cause of his isolation. He had hated everything. When he isolated, he was able to turn the hatred on himself. He was able to sever himself from The Force by wanting so much to hurt himself.
But that was all going to end soon. The nightmares, the hatred toward himself and the Sith, his pain and guilt. It would end. He knew that this journey would cleanse him of these infirmities. It would end everything, somehow, some way. Be it his death, or his discoveries, he will be free of this torment. That was his goal, his only goal. Like a droid, he had engraved this goal in his programming, he would accomplish it by any means necessary. He didn't need a roadmap, just a destination.
And so the old man began his long, long trek through the galaxy with a single step.
He would walk over the lake, observe the life that presided there. Then he would go to the forest, and live there for a day. Or two. Whatever it takes for him to feel something. He knew he'd feel something internally, not the Force, but a change. Once he felt it, he would stay one more day, then he would leave, and move to the next planet. He would do this again and again until he had explored every planet. Each one will lighten the burdens he carries. Each planet will teach him something, and he won't leave until he has learnt the lesson.
He may be severed from the Force, but it still guides all life in the galaxy. It may not guide him to where he needs to be, but it will guide others to him. He knew that. That was the only lesson he knew before the journey, the lesson of his isolation.
There were other teachings...teachings he must forget...teachings of the Sith. They were stuck to him like fossils thousands of feet in the ground. He needed to clear the weeds (his lack of will to begin the process), then shovel the tons of dirt (The years of practicing these lessons), then pry them out (Forget them), and finally cover the hole that would be created (fill the emptiness with a new lesson) .
This pilgrimage wasn't just that. It will be a battle.
