But with every step he climbs that long staircase to the top, the dread seems to thicken the blood in his veins. He knows this is wrong. He has served with Jedi, has met some of the Order’s leaders – they do not deserve an end so vile.
How can it be right?
Everything about this is wrong. Everything.
The commander casts an eye over his shoulder, as if sensing his doubts. Then icy resolve newly floods through him – the wish to do as he is told compelling him onward, and his doubts is no more but a small flame with hardly any life left in it to keep burning. He must go and do as he was commanded; he must go and kill the traitorous Jedi. There cannot be room for doubts. The Jedi are traitors, and deserve this fate. They MUST die.
Then the commander turns his head forwards again just as he reaches the top, and in Darven’s head the certainty of his purpose grows faint again.
When he reaches the top only seconds after their leader, his commander is already engaged in conversation with the enemy. The Jedi that confronts them does not look like a traitor. Instead of the dangerous and deadly foe they have been told to expect, there is an old grizzled man waiting for them, who seems nothing but confused at their sudden approach. The worry on the man’s face grows with every second as he keeps asking the commander - who he still perceives to be his fellow Jedi - what is wrong. At last, the Jedi gets his answer when the commander activates his own saber close enough to the Jedi’s face that the igniting blade stabs into his head. But even in death, the Jedi does not look anything other than benevolence personified.
The man asleep on the chair twitches, slightly, and hitherto smooth features contort to a grimace that make the deep scar running along the right side of his face all the more prominent, and set his face into a mask of pain. His hands clench and fingernails bite into the skin of his palms, yet he does not awake from that. The dream has too deep a hold over him to let him escape so easily.
His hands balled into a fist, Darven fights the urge to step foward and come to the Jedi's rescue. Yet it would be too late. And his orders are clear. He cannot fail to obey them. He was created to obey. He was bred for this life. He was bred to be loyal. It is not for him to question orders.
The commander once again looks back at his troops. And for a moment, Darven's fear drowns out all else: a demon is staring back at them, with eyes full of blazing fire and a face contorted by hate. This should be the foe they should vanquish, not the Jedi! But then the world is a sea of calm resolve, icy and sharp their purpose, once again. Follow Darth Vader. Kill the Jedi.
No room for doubts.
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