Chapter 2

Galen trudged forward with renewed determination, following the tenuous trail left by the nomadic scavenger tribe across the endless dunes. The blazing twin suns had just crested their midday zenith, bathing the arid landscape in searing heat and harsh shadows.

He estimated he'd covered nearly fifteen kilometers since the crash site when a tremor rocked through the Force around him. An involuntary shudder rippled across Galen's sweat-slicked skin as the dark side energies washed over his subconscious senses.

The disturbance was close, radiating outward from somewhere just beyond the next rolling swell of sandy banks up ahead. Galen turned off the main trail, boots sinking into the scarlet-tinged dunes as he followed the tendrils of volatility saturating the air.

Cresting the ridge, a horrific scene lay in the valley below. A small settlement of ramshackle mud huts and animal pens lay smashed, scattered and still smoldering in places. But it was the unnaturally still bodies that drew Galen's focus like a gnawing ache.

The remains of the encampment's inhabitants - small hairless humanoid creatures Galen didn't recognize - were strewn about amidst the rubble. Their diminutive corpses scored with brutal slashes, severed limbs and charred blaster scoring. It was a massacre, unequivocally.

His stomach clenched at the indiscriminate carnage surrounding him. Flashes of the death cult atrocities under the Empire flooded his mind's eye in nauseous deja vu. But some other dark presence here cut through those memories, demanding his attention.

There, off in the far clearing amidst the annihilated village stood a solitary figure basking in the death's aftermath like a nexus point of this atrocity. As Galen neared, the being's Force signature radiated outward in roiling anguish tempered by an eerie tranquil center.

When he was close enough to make out details, Galen's breath hitched in sudden recognition at the familiar snap-hiss of an ignited lightsaber. The figure was a young man, no older than twenty, with tousled sandy blonde hair and shockingly intense blue eyes. His strong jawline and youthful features were marred by streaks of grime and anger as he clutched the azure blade in a defensive stance.

One of the fabled Jedi knights? Here? Now?

Sensing Galen's presence, the young man whirled with lightsaber leading. "You dare disturb me here?" he snarled in a surprisingly deep baritone laced with barely contained rage. "After what they've done?"

"You..." the figure snarled through clenched teeth, taking in Galen's appearance and no doubt sensing his own command of the Force. "What are you doing here, are you their smuggler?"

Up close, Galen could see this was no serene Jedi, despite the elegant weapon. His simple tan tunic and trousers were splattered with blood and scorched in places. But most unsettling were those bright blue eyes blazing with an almost feral anger behind them.

Taking in the smashed dwellings and strewn bodies again, understanding began to claw at Galen's consciousness. This wasn't random violence. The personal, possessive rage rolling off this young warrior combined with the devastated camp could only result from a deeply traumatic crime.

"You... you did this?" Galen gestured carefully around at the horrific aftermath, keeping his voice measured. Even the children were shown no mercy.

When the only reply was a deepening scowl and defensive lightsaber grip adjusting, he pressed on carefully. "These beings - they wronged you somehow? Took something from you?"

For a beat, the tension hung thick enough to choke on in the oppressive desert heat. Then the rage bubbled over, the young man's eyes narrowing to slits as he gripped the lightsaber tighter.

"Enough of your kriffing questions!" he spat viciously. "You have no idea the tortures these scum put me through! The anguish of watching her die right before my eyes!"

His lightsaber whirled in a blindingly fast horizontal arc, close enough to make Galen's hair stand on end from the intensity of its plasma edge. "All for their petty greed and bloodlust! You avoided my question earlier, what are you not telling me..." the Jedi asked, confidently assuming Galen was connected. A symptom of blind rage and embrace of the dark side. "Now you can share their fate, smuggler!"

With a feral cry of fury, the unleashed warrior charged across the sands in a shockingly skilled if unrestrained attack sequence. Galen found himself squarely on the defensive, their blades crashing and hissing together in a plume of superheated sparks and molten grains.

But Galen's decades of combat experience gave him the edge over the berserker rage. Sidestepping a wild overhand strike, he caught the younger man's wrist and yanked him forward off-balance, adding his own force-enhanced shove directly to his opponent's chest.

The unrestrained Jedi went soaring backwards, smashing down hard on his back in the coarse sand with a breathless grunt of pain and surprise. Galen wasted no time, calling on the Force to grip his felled opponent in a constricting stasis field.

For several tense moments, the only sounds were those of labored, hate-filled breaths against Galen's Force restraint as he assessed the now defeated swordsman.

"I will not share anyone's 'fate' here today," Galen spoke evenly, carefully maintaining control over both his physical stance and emotional center. A dangerous glint appeared in his eyes, "Not until you explain yourself."

Those intense blue eyes locked onto his own, flickering with the barest hint of reason piercing through the anguished tempest raging behind them. When the reply finally came, it was clipped but no less intense.

"Tusken Raiders," the young man ground out between gritted teeth. "They came in the night, taking my mother captive from her homestead. I tracked them for weeks," He trailed off, shaking his head against the fresh wave of agony gripping him.

His eyes squeezed shut as the words caught in his throat, a muscle twitching in that strong jawline. "And when I freed her at last...she was already gone."

The pure cathartic release was palpable in the Force, the warrior surrendering to his darkest impulses like a parched wanderer gulping life-giving water. Galen's stomach clenched again, flashing back to his first disastrous days under Vader's influence.

"I understand your anguish," he spoke carefully, approaching the enraged Jedi with utmost caution. "How the wound cuts so deep, you would drown in darkness to numb the pain. I walked that path myself once under crueler teachers than these simple savages."

Easing up the Force restraint slightly, Galen took a knee to be at eye level with his captive. "But hatred is a fire that only breeds more fire. Your suffering was immense, but blind vengeance merely continues the cycle endlessly."

Anakin's bright blue eyes bored into his, turbulent with raw emotion Galen couldn't begin to untangle. After a moment, the intensity seemed to dim ever so slightly into something more pensive.

When the young swordsman did not respond, Galen exhaled slowly through his nostrils. "I won't claim to know what you've endured. But dwell too long on that pain, cherishing it, feeding the hatred, and you will lose your way entirely."

For a long moment, the only sound was the whisper of a desert breeze kicking up across the smoldering remains all around them. "What other path is there for someone like me?"

It was more a statement of resignation than a question, weariness seeping into that deep baritone. "The Jedi would never accept such..." He trailed off, not meeting Galen's gaze.

Despite himself, the corner of Galen's mouth tugged upward in a grim smile. "Then it's a good thing I'm no Jedi, isn't it?"

He offered his free hand to the downed warrior. "Now, you can start over by giving an exile your name."

There was the briefest hesitation before a calloused hand gripped his own. "Anakin. Anakin Skywalker."