Чарльз Соул: Star Wars: Light of the Jedi (The High Republic)

“Yes,” Avar said, her voice quiet as well.

“We won’t be seeing each other as often,” Elzar said. “Do you think we got too used to spending time together? Was that a mistake?”

“No,” she said, her voice certain.

“I agree. And we’ll stay in touch.”

“Yes. We can speak whenever we want. Chancellor Soh’s comm relay project will make that easier than ever.”

“Of course,” he said.

They had reached the top of the path, the end of the spiral, where an exit led back to the rest of the station. The sounds of celebration could be heard—dim and inviting.

“Sounds like it’s ramping up. You want to put away a few glasses of whatever they’ve got? I wouldn’t mind dancing, either. Should we go dance, Jedi Master Elzar Mann?”

He wondered what she thought of the look he was giving her just then. If she might be drowning a bit, too.

“I’ll be along in a bit,” he said. “It’s nice here, and I don’t know when I’ll get to see this spot again.”

“All right,” she replied.

Avar hesitated, then smiled, full and open and honest, and walked away.

Elzar watched her go, then turned and looked out at the stars, at the emptiness of space, the deepest sea of all. Below him, the flame-trees churned, rustling and whipping—it was like standing atop an inferno. He let his consciousness roam out into the darkness beyond, looking, looking…

The Force seized his mind.

Awful visions flashed before his eyes, things he could not understand, cast in a sickly purple light. Jedi, many he knew, friends and colleagues, horribly mutilated, fighting battles they could not win against awful things that lived in the dark. Things that lived in the deep.

The Jedi, those who survived, were fleeing. Not retreating, but fleeing.

The visions spiked into his mind, the Force screaming some sort of warning or prophecy at him, shearing through his consciousness, and they would not stop.

Elzar fell to his knees, blood dripping from his nose. This did not feel like an unknowable, avoidable vision of the future.

This felt inevitable. Certain.

Evil, horror, sweeping across the galaxy like the tide.

He saw Jedi dying, screaming, and himself last of all, unable to escape what was coming.

Slowly, agonizingly, the vision receded. Elzar returned to himself. He gasped, and more blood spattered the deck.

What had he just seen? What had he seen?

The worst was not the chaos; the battles; the pain; the unknown, monstrous horrors surging out of the dark. It was what he had seen on the face of every single Jedi the Force had shown him.

The greatest enemy of all.

Fear.

For Hannah, Sam, Chris, and Jay, who love Star Wars as much as I do

Acknowledgments

Star Wars projects, of any type, are always a collective effort—from films to games to toys to this very novel…it takes a galaxy. That’s particularly true of Light of the Jedi , which is the result of literally years of work by the group of people first introduced to the world as a collective of five writers working on the mysterious Project Luminous. I didn’t know any of them personally when the project that would eventually become The High Republic began, though I knew their work. Now, though, it’s rare that a day goes by that I don’t talk to this incredibly talented group of writers: Claudia Gray, Justina Ireland, Daniel José Older, and Cavan Scott. They began as my colleagues and became my friends, and this book would not exist without their constant encouragement, vetting, and wonderful ideas.

Next, of course, the maestro who put Project Luminous together, and has sheltered his little group of writers from countless storms and kept us going since those first emails started circulating about what Luminous would become: Michael Siglain, creative director at Lucasfilm Publishing. He’s the best, and I guarantee no one who’s ever met him would tell you any different. He brought me in for this ride—brought all of us in—and I couldn’t be more thankful.

The folks at Lucasfilm Story Group gave us endless time and focus as we were building The High Republic, and I’d like to particularly mention Pablo Hidalgo, whose notes were always additive and often came with instructive diagrams about the mysterious nature of hyperspace. James Waugh, for his constant, unflagging support. Matt Martin and Robert Simpson, Brett Rector, Jen Heddle, Troy Alders…the list goes on. It’s what I said at the beginning— Star Wars is a galaxy, and everyone contributes. It’s wonderful to see.

Elizabeth Schaefer at Del Rey, for her editorial acumen and some really nice tweets after she finished reading an early draft of the novel. My agent, Seth Fishman, for whom no deal is impossible. Jordan D. White at Marvel Comics, who gave me my very first shot at writing Star Wars and from which all of the rest has come. Shawn DePasquale, my constant early reader. Tommy Stella, my constant assistant.

George Lucas and the many, many brilliant people he worked with to bring Star Wars to life (it takes a galaxy!). None of us would be doing this work without their efforts.

And, of course, my family—Rosemary and Amy, Hannah, Sam and Chris, Jay and Ann, Mary and Jim.

And finally, thank you. I hope you enjoyed the story.

We are all the Republic.

Charles Soule

Summer 2020

BY CHARLES SOULE

Star Wars: The High Republic: Light of the Jedi

The Oracle Year

Anyone: A Novel

About the Author

CHARLES SOULE is a Brooklyn, New York–based novelist, comic book writer, musician, and attorney. His novels include The Oracle Year and Anyone: A Novel. While he has worked for DC and other publishers, he is best known for writing Daredevil, She-Hulk, Death of Wolverine, and various Star Wars comics from Marvel Comics ( Darth Vader, Poe Dameron, Lando, and more), and his creator-owned series Curse Words (with Ryan Browne) and Letter 44 (with Alberto Jimenez Alburquerque).

charlessoule.com

Twitter: @CharlesSoule

Instagram: @charlesdsoule

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