The Execution

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Five Years Before

The Earth did not move.

But your mouth quivered.

The click of her heels declared her stately arrival. Despite her incoming fate, her chin was raised high in contempt. She stepped with poise upon the platform.

The people were silent.

As she gazed out into the audience, her black eyes met yours. Her maternal instincts had found you in the midst of the crowd. Even then, her disappointment shown in her expression. An icy stare latched upon your intestines and gripped you fiercely.

She would be executed by her own saber.

One more step forward; it would be her last. They gave her no cloak, no headdress, and no jewels. She was a common civilian now – she would not die a queen. There was no grant of confession and, as the executor (clad in black, donning Baeline mourning attire) stepped near, he did not ask for her forgiveness.

There, upon the stage, she uttered her last words. Six, to be exact, and the undertaker disregarded caution. Ghostly whispers hung in the air and the space around you seized.

"My soul and the Force entwine."

A mechanical squeal sounded about the coliseum. There was a blur of emerald light.

A howl spurted from your lips.


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The medic examined the hologram above you. It was impossible to read.

The woman's mouth raised into a smile.

"Ambassador," she whispered in awe. "There are three."

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