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Description
The sky, clouded and grey, beckoned with its glimmering rays of moonlight through the ebon shroud of the Wasskah treetops. The shards, cutting through the shadows, promised peace and celestial bliss, of a calm beyond the blackness that had long since stood above my head in what I could only estimate to be weeks in this place. Every day since my arrival, the path had become more and more transparent; the voice of the Force seeming to shrink from a clear tone to a mumble, to indistinct whispers, to incoherence; every day since my arrival, I had grown seemingly immune to it.

I knew the promise to be hollow, fraudulent and false as any easy answer, for my sleeping hours had been fraught with peril. As soon as my eyes shut, as consciousness slipped from my exhausted body, I was beset with visions I can only attribute to fear and paranoid delusion. A figure, wreathed in fire, stepping from the shadowy mists of time; its eyes burning with the same smouldering amber as the embers flanking it. The bones of a thousand beings blazoned upon its frame, clattered like demented chimes in the wind, the demented percussive accompaniment of a macabre symphony.

In my dreams, I watched the spirit, for few other words seemed to properly encapsulate its presence, and felt clearly its gaze find me. Every time, those orange eyes would pierce into me, and for a brief moment I felt the heat of the flames as if I were stood within them. The stink of the smoke in my nostrils choking the breath from my lungs, filling my mouth with the taste of copper and charcoal. It was then that I would rouse, often in a panic, and begin the day anew. Another day in the seemingly endless jungle, another day of the overbearing humidity sapping my strength, the heat burning away layers of my willpower to mere scraps. The wildlife I had long since given up the moral refusal to pursue offered no aid; the sustenance from their remains only barely more than the expenditure it took to capture them.

A Jedi, guardian of the Grand Republic and the beings within it, I am. And yet, it has begun to feel as if even this had become just a label; a layer that the planet beneath my feet had worn down and away with each pressing scrape against my form. Human, male, Jedi Knight, all seemed to falter and bend as time had worn on. Weeks, months, maybe it had even been years since my arrival, for as I recount even this I cannot help but question myself; doubt seeping into the very fibres of my being, or what remains of it.

Human, Jedi, Wasskah, beasts, the spirit, the Force. I feel as if I can only just distinguish myself.

And it is in this moment, in this reverie as I stare into the beams from above, I am struck blind. My senses shift, my nostrils commanding from my weakened brain what they could to alert me to their knowledge. Smoky, ashen scents linger in the air; a thin haze of pungent and aromatic odour mixed in with the char. Herbs my nose couldn't recognise, oils I could almost taste but not place, their presence drew me as if against my own will, for where my brain whispered its refusal to comply, my feet demanded to continue their march.

Under the wafting clouds of incense, I was rendered a passenger in my own body; inert in my own flesh and blood.

I don't know for how long I walked in my delirium, in the miasmatic fog billowing around me, but I recognised the site of my arrival; for whilst much of Wasskah was unknown to me, I had ventured to this place many times. My body, perhaps not, but among the nest of trees and arranged stones I had wandered so many times that each crevice and knotted tree root felt as family to me. Familiarity washed over my conscious mind much as the cloud of incense swaddled my physical being; the sensation of home, of comfort that not even the Temple on Coruscant had ever brought on.

There, before me, burned the fires. The chattering of bone an applause to my silent introduction. Amber orbs hovered, wreathed in shadow and fire, the black portals held within directed to me as if to bid me to venture into them, and in so doing, lose myself. I could hear the whispers, the droned chanting among the claps of ivory, as the spirit shifted and moved. Swayed, beckoned, undulated. My eyes faltered as sight wavered, but my ears were drawn to the chants as iron to a magnet; I could not unhear their enthralling call.

I saw from above the spirit, amidst the smoke and grey, hands reach into reality. The chanting grew, whispered into voiced, voiced into shouted, feeling as if attempting to pull apart my skull from the inside, as hands gave way to arms. Limbs, long and unnatural in their visage; thick scars gouged into what I could only guess was flesh. The scent of blood filled my nostrils, ashen and encrusted with the soot of the flames, as the chanting continued to grow in its intensity. Demented, the mantra resonated against every bone in my body and demanded its surrender, its discordant cries bashing against me as waves in a stormy ocean.

And I, a lone figure against the tidal forces of reality itself, bowed and broke under its commanding weight.

Once more, and permanently, I was struck blind. I reached for the Force to guide me, but only the serpentine chants responded; a wall of sound whose thick bounds my cries for help could not penetrate. I commanded my legs to move, but they held fast, as if rooted to the soil, seeping as the trees, deep into the earth. My arms, I sought the lightsaber, so as to shear myself free of my own prison, but fingers refused to budge. Warmth pressed against me, first comforting, then as agonising as an incandescent shard, as the scent of smoke flooded my consciousness once more. A fiery shard pushed through me, struck deep at the very heart of my being, stealing the will of me to cry out for aid. This, unlike the pleasant tones of the incense, was invasive; the smell of charcoal filled my lungs to bursting, the taste of soot blackened my tongue into crumbling. I felt the trickling rush of water against my face and felt the world spin violently; unable to gain a reference to reality, I was left adrift.

I felt myself float, felt the very essence of my being, my conscious mind, lift. A moment of clarity pierced the miasma, shot through the infernal chanting, as I tried to piece together the sensory data poured over me. Fire, warmth, heat, smoke, pain, touch, taste, smell, it all seemed to appear and disappear in stages; the only constant the hissed incantations and mantras to which language I could not venture a guess.

There was a gasp, I felt, my lungs drawing sharply white hot air in desperation, before I felt...nothing. A disconnent, a miscommunication; I was here, and yet not here, for there were no longer references to reality I could lean upon. Sightless, odourless ,tasteless; the chanting had fallen entirely silent by now, leaving in its wake the deafening roar of nothingness. Oblivion yawned before me, a stretching, oily shadow before my blinded consciousness. Into the midnight depths, I sank, sank, until I could no longer feel myself fall.

No longer feel anything at all.

Art by www.deviantart.com/dingoat !

Story by me.

Description
The sky, clouded and grey, beckoned with its glimmering rays of moonlight through the ebon shroud of the Wasskah treetops. The shards, cutting through the shadows, promised peace and celestial bliss, of a calm beyond the blackness that had long since stood above my head in what I could only estimate to be weeks in this place. Every day since my arrival, the path had become more and more transparent; the voice of the Force seeming to shrink from a clear tone to a mumble, to indistinct whispers, to incoherence; every day since my arrival, I had grown seemingly immune to it.

I knew the promise to be hollow, fraudulent and false as any easy answer, for my sleeping hours had been fraught with peril. As soon as my eyes shut, as consciousness slipped from my exhausted body, I was beset with visions I can only attribute to fear and paranoid delusion. A figure, wreathed in fire, stepping from the shadowy mists of time; its eyes burning with the same smouldering amber as the embers flanking it. The bones of a thousand beings blazoned upon its frame, clattered like demented chimes in the wind, the demented percussive accompaniment of a macabre symphony.

In my dreams, I watched the spirit, for few other words seemed to properly encapsulate its presence, and felt clearly its gaze find me. Every time, those orange eyes would pierce into me, and for a brief moment I felt the heat of the flames as if I were stood within them. The stink of the smoke in my nostrils choking the breath from my lungs, filling my mouth with the taste of copper and charcoal. It was then that I would rouse, often in a panic, and begin the day anew. Another day in the seemingly endless jungle, another day of the overbearing humidity sapping my strength, the heat burning away layers of my willpower to mere scraps. The wildlife I had long since given up the moral refusal to pursue offered no aid; the sustenance from their remains only barely more than the expenditure it took to capture them.

A Jedi, guardian of the Grand Republic and the beings within it, I am. And yet, it has begun to feel as if even this had become just a label; a layer that the planet beneath my feet had worn down and away with each pressing scrape against my form. Human, male, Jedi Knight, all seemed to falter and bend as time had worn on. Weeks, months, maybe it had even been years since my arrival, for as I recount even this I cannot help but question myself; doubt seeping into the very fibres of my being, or what remains of it.

Human, Jedi, Wasskah, beasts, the spirit, the Force. I feel as if I can only just distinguish myself.

And it is in this moment, in this reverie as I stare into the beams from above, I am struck blind. My senses shift, my nostrils commanding from my weakened brain what they could to alert me to their knowledge. Smoky, ashen scents linger in the air; a thin haze of pungent and aromatic odour mixed in with the char. Herbs my nose couldn't recognise, oils I could almost taste but not place, their presence drew me as if against my own will, for where my brain whispered its refusal to comply, my feet demanded to continue their march.

Under the wafting clouds of incense, I was rendered a passenger in my own body; inert in my own flesh and blood.

I don't know for how long I walked in my delirium, in the miasmatic fog billowing around me, but I recognised the site of my arrival; for whilst much of Wasskah was unknown to me, I had ventured to this place many times. My body, perhaps not, but among the nest of trees and arranged stones I had wandered so many times that each crevice and knotted tree root felt as family to me. Familiarity washed over my conscious mind much as the cloud of incense swaddled my physical being; the sensation of home, of comfort that not even the Temple on Coruscant had ever brought on.

There, before me, burned the fires. The chattering of bone an applause to my silent introduction. Amber orbs hovered, wreathed in shadow and fire, the black portals held within directed to me as if to bid me to venture into them, and in so doing, lose myself. I could hear the whispers, the droned chanting among the claps of ivory, as the spirit shifted and moved. Swayed, beckoned, undulated. My eyes faltered as sight wavered, but my ears were drawn to the chants as iron to a magnet; I could not unhear their enthralling call.

I saw from above the spirit, amidst the smoke and grey, hands reach into reality. The chanting grew, whispered into voiced, voiced into shouted, feeling as if attempting to pull apart my skull from the inside, as hands gave way to arms. Limbs, long and unnatural in their visage; thick scars gouged into what I could only guess was flesh. The scent of blood filled my nostrils, ashen and encrusted with the soot of the flames, as the chanting continued to grow in its intensity. Demented, the mantra resonated against every bone in my body and demanded its surrender, its discordant cries bashing against me as waves in a stormy ocean.

And I, a lone figure against the tidal forces of reality itself, bowed and broke under its commanding weight.

Once more, and permanently, I was struck blind. I reached for the Force to guide me, but only the serpentine chants responded; a wall of sound whose thick bounds my cries for help could not penetrate. I commanded my legs to move, but they held fast, as if rooted to the soil, seeping as the trees, deep into the earth. My arms, I sought the lightsaber, so as to shear myself free of my own prison, but fingers refused to budge. Warmth pressed against me, first comforting, then as agonising as an incandescent shard, as the scent of smoke flooded my consciousness once more. A fiery shard pushed through me, struck deep at the very heart of my being, stealing the will of me to cry out for aid. This, unlike the pleasant tones of the incense, was invasive; the smell of charcoal filled my lungs to bursting, the taste of soot blackened my tongue into crumbling. I felt the trickling rush of water against my face and felt the world spin violently; unable to gain a reference to reality, I was left adrift.

I felt myself float, felt the very essence of my being, my conscious mind, lift. A moment of clarity pierced the miasma, shot through the infernal chanting, as I tried to piece together the sensory data poured over me. Fire, warmth, heat, smoke, pain, touch, taste, smell, it all seemed to appear and disappear in stages; the only constant the hissed incantations and mantras to which language I could not venture a guess.

There was a gasp, I felt, my lungs drawing sharply white hot air in desperation, before I felt...nothing. A disconnent, a miscommunication; I was here, and yet not here, for there were no longer references to reality I could lean upon. Sightless, odourless ,tasteless; the chanting had fallen entirely silent by now, leaving in its wake the deafening roar of nothingness. Oblivion yawned before me, a stretching, oily shadow before my blinded consciousness. Into the midnight depths, I sank, sank, until I could no longer feel myself fall.

No longer feel anything at all.

Art by www.deviantart.com/dingoat !

Story by me.