SUN DRAGON ━━ Star Wars

i. politicians are gross.

i. ━━ politicians are gross.

THIS STORY HAPPENED a long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away. It is a story of love, courage and sacrifice, and the death of dreams. A story of the blurred line between right and wrong. It is a story filled with impossible choices.

A story where heroes never come home.

A story where, right now, Rory Skywalker is surrounded by death.

Darkness swallows her whole. It's as if someone has split the heavens into two. Icy rain beats against her skin in a torrential downpour. Each droplet feels like the frozen tear of some inscrutable cosmic being; it's like the gods of the galaxy are sobbing.

Shivering uncontrollably, Rory squints into the infinite blackness. Each movement is sluggish. Her waterlogged robes cling to her and make it very difficult to walk. Mud squelches beneath her boots and each step forward sends her sinking further and further.

Jagged lightning shatters the skies. Fragments of pure white light blind her. Though the velvety black shadows are broken briefly, it doesn't hold. Like a starved man, darkness returns.

With a noise like an explosion, blaster fire erupts all around. Rory staggers backwards. Falls. It feels like she's drowning.

Bright splashes of blood fill her vision. Astonishingly red.

All around, armored silhouettes are pushing forward. Some are cut down by red blaster fire that erupts from the endless void. So many are falling. Too many. Each time, another takes their place. One fallen soldier manages to lift his helmet as he takes a dying breath. Another's bursts into pieces from the force of the shot. Breathing in blood, Rory screams.

All the dying men have the exact same face.

Blood-drenched hands claw desperately at her. Intertwining her in their ring of crimson death. They are seething. Like feral animals, they claw at any part of her they can reach.

Like they want to kill her, too.

The night isn't black at all. It's the last degree of reds. A secret blood. Black is the darkest red.

"You could have saved us. . . " a soldier whispers hoarsely. His body is cold as a corpse, pressed against her. "Why didn't you?"

Wails stain the air, ringing in her ears:

"It's all your fault!"

"You didn't do enough!"

"Why couldn't you help us?"

The rain isn't enough to wash the stuff. Swirls of crimson rise up in waves, overflowing, surging towards her. She's drowning in their blood.

They're killing her. They're killing her, they're killing her, they're killing her ━━

"AURORA!"

Gone is the blood and the gore and the battlefield. Vision blotching, Rory staggers, gasping for air. The hut is uncomfortably dark, golden brown, a haunting memoir of the glazed eyes belonging to the identical soldiers.

Blistering heat slathers her skin. It feels like she's being stabbed by a million sun-spears and then scraped raw by sandpaper. Even her eyes feel like they've melted into the back of her mind, making everything mirage-like. Her body shudders feverishly.

She is nothing. Not even flesh and blood. Something hollow. Empty.

"Sweet Aurora," a voice cracks. "Why did you leave me?"