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A child’s high pitched scream ripped the night apart. Din was running, his legs burning with exertion, armor heavy on his shoulders and the humid summer air thick around him. The crickets buzzed a droning background to the drumbeat pounding of his heart. He rounded the last hut and saw his enemy.
Winta ran towards him between the krill ponds, white showing around her wide fearful eyes. A lithe armored figure chased her with blades extended from their vambraces and the visor of their helmet flashing in the moonlight. With a flare of fire at their backs the enemy launched forward in a jetpack assisted leap towards the child.
Din ignited his own, rocketing over Winta’s head to clash mid air with the invader. He grabbed at his belt for the familiar handle of the Darksaber. It hissed to life like the first gasping breath of a drowning man, white burning edges lightning up the night, turning the ponds to bright mirrors.
Before the enemy could get their feet back Din was on them, swinging the saber down in a fluid motion towards their unprotected neck. The blade sliced through flesh and bone like soft earth, barely a vibration traveling up his arm as the resistance gave way.
More enemies came, dropping from the sky with snarls of rage and hatred in their gleaming visor. Din readied the saber, looking back and forth between his enemies. They lunged in sync. Graceful and light on his feet, he dodged, untouchable to their clumsy attacks. His blood sang with the rhythm of battle. The first enemy he cut down with a swipe across the unprotected swath of her gut. The second he lured into an angry overhand strike and plunged the saber into the gap below his arm. The Darksaber cut down Din’s foes as easily as it parted the heavy night air, even his armor felt lighter with the energy of the blade coursing through him. It felt right and natural as breathing. Better. It was exhilarating. It was living as he had never felt. Complete.
Din looked down at his victories, the bodies half fallen into the glassy ponds. He kicked them the rest of the way in, letting their armor drag them down below the surface, disappearing and leaving only the image of himself, silver beskar shining in the white glare of the saber, reflected in the dying ripples.
Let them rot and be eaten. Let them be forgotten. They were unworthy. I will make safe what is deserving of protection, the good and the righteous. If it is mine it will be protected, and I will protect what is mine!
-
“Din.”
The oppressive ringing silence broke.
Din gasped for breath as he awoke from the dream.
The sounds of morning crickets chirping and humming filled his ears.
He blinked, and the darkness of night became the pale gray of pre-dawn filtering through the trees and the scattered clouds. His armor sat heavy and familiar on his shoulders, the comforting embrace of the helmet around his head, filtered muted smells of dew and grass wafting around him.
A warm hand slipped into his own, and he shivered violently, realizing with stark contrast how cold he had become. The chill had settled deep into his bones, making his right arm and the fingers of that hand ache.
Din looked down at the cold fingers that grasped tight around the black angular hilt of the Darksaber. The black and white crackling blade was extended and blazing at his side. It drew in the faint morning light and the feeble warmth that Din’s body clung to. He could feel it seeking more, drawing the heat from the very air he drew into his lungs with each breath.
“Din?” Omera’s voice to his left calling his name again made him jump. He grasped her warm hand tighter.
What is happening? What is this? Make it stop!
On instinct Din dropped the Darksaber. He stepped away from it towards Omera’s warmth. The dark blade hissed softly as it retracted back into the handle, but the sound echoed in Din’s mind like Winta’s scream from his nightmare. The weapon made a soft splat as it hit the muddy ground.
How did I get out here? Where are the enemies? No— there’s no one here. Just me and Omera. What is going on? Din looked around at the sleepy early morning village frantically, breath coming fast and panicked, shaking with useless adrenaline.
“Din, Din!” Omera stepped up to him, raising her free hand to the side of his helmet and guiding his eyes to meet hers. Her hair was braided back as she kept it for sleeping, and she was wrapped in her light summer house robe.
“W-what…” Din stammered for words.
“You were having another nightmare,” she explained, warm eyes fixed on his intently through the visor.
Not another! Not again!
“You were sleepwalking this time.”
“I was… In my sleep?” Din turned to look toward the dull black handle on the muddy ground only a few feet away. It looked almost unremarkable and harmless, but Din shuddered to think what he might have done while unconscious with such a deadly weapon unsheathed. If anyone else but Omera had approached him he could have...
“Oh no, no… no…”
Omera wrapped him in her arms. Without regard to the cold metal of his armor, she pressed herself against him, and he clung to her desperately, shuddering in earnest. Maybe it was the Force, but Din could swear he felt her warmth through the layers that separated them. It tried to drive out the lingering chill of his nightmare.
“They’re getting worse, aren’t they?” Omera asked.
Din bit his lip to hold back a sob of helplessness and nodded his helmet against her shoulder. “It’s every night now,” he confessed in a whisper that buzzed through the modulator. “It’s like you warned me. The more I train with it, the less I know who I am and what I want. Would Bo-Katan be affected like this? Would she become a tyrant like Gideon if she wins the saber? Why am I training to fight with it if I don’t even want it? To keep it out of her hands… or because I can’t give it up?
“I’m scared, Omera. I’m scared of what it is doing to me and of what it might do to someone else if I lose it. I want to give it up but… I… I don’t know if I can.”
Omera shifted her arms to rub his arms where the armor didn’t block her touch, hushing him with soft murmurs. “It’ll be alright,” she gave him empty promises. “We’ll find a way through this. You haven’t lost yourself to this, not yet. We will find a way.”
Din pulled her closer still trying to wrap her more tightly into his embrace. She was the lifeline out of the nightmares, the beacon of dawn drawing him from the cold night. He wasn’t sure if he would be able to find his way out if she weren’t there to guide him.
“Thank you,” he whispered, voice tight with the lump in his throat.
I won’t let this tear her away from me, he told himself. I won’t let this take what little I have left. In Gideon’s hands it helped him take my Covert, my ship, my son— my clan, even my Creed. Not again. Nothing else.
Din fisted his hands in the fabric of her robe, gathering strands of hair that escaped her braid. He glared at the darkness of his visor with eyes that glinted yellow gold.
Whatever it takes, I will protect what is mine, he resolved.
In the mud the Darksaber hummed softly, triumphant.