The Fallen Star (Star Wars: The High Republic)

by Claudia Gray

Elzar had not turned; nor did he feel he was close to turning. This was not a way of life for him—he still believed all the good and true lessons he had learned from Yoda as a youngling, then as a Padawan from his wise Master Roland Quarry. But anger was unavoidable. Fear was unavoidable. Extreme circumstances created extreme emotions. Denying them served no purpose. Why not use them?

Where do you draw the line? Elzar asked himself. You don’t know. You can’t know. And that’s why you can’t travel down that path at all.

Acceptance was strength. It was being able to carry the weight of what had been, and what had not, through all the many days, months, years, and decades to follow. Bell would bear this burden as long as he cherished the memory of Loden Greatstorm. That meant he would bear it always.

“Celebrate then,” Leyel insisted, shouldering a bag of their equipment. Nobody ever questioned people dressed for repairs and carrying tools, no matter where those people might go. “Work now.”

To know the darkness is to begin to control it.

“That’s where we differ. You still think the Jedi Order and the Force are the same thing.”

The Masters are worried about this. More, even, than they’ve let on. Maybe more than they’ve admitted to themselves.

“To put it simply, Bell, you must always be willing to lose me, if it is necessary to do what we ought. I must be willing to lose you. We must be willing to sacrifice ourselves, and each other, for the greater good.”

There was no Force to guide her. It was gone, gone, gone forever, and she had not known it was possible to feel so frightened, so alone.

The past is gone. The future is only a dream. The present is all.

It didn’t take long for their cargo to realize they were finally free.

The Force was silent, and nothing was left of Orla but fear.

“Oh no, we’re not,” Bell said. “Haven’t you ever watched a fright holo? Splitting up is the worst thing we could do.”

shrii ka rai, ka rai

It was as though sentients had learned, at some point in their technological development, that droids had to be kept in their place or the consequences would be dire. Droid pilots and crew were usually only used by criminals. By smugglers. By the very lowest of the low.

were the true law; now they all knew it. “I do not wish to rule the galaxy,” he said. “If I did, you would be under my boot even now. But I will take what I wish, when I wish it, and no one will stand in my way—Republic, Jedi, or anyone else. They cannot stand in my way. The Nihil have proven our power, and we will use that power however we choose. This galaxy—” He knew he should say is ours. He should reference all the Nihil in his statement, unify them in this ultimate statement of purpose. Instead, Ro said what he truly believed: “This galaxy is mine.”