Keeping a journal was never really my thing.

Most people enjoy it, or so I'm told. They find an escape in it, something to distract them yet allow them some time to reflect on the course of the day. I personally never understood it. When there was work to be done, why waste time writing down your thoughts?

Against my better judgement though, here I am.

One of my priests suggested it, actually. He said that it would help ease my mind. My nights have proved sleepless, and even my new...well relatively new physiology can only hold me up for so long without some form of rest. I suppose I had better do the whole, "reflection" thing now shouldn't I?

Times have been turbulent recently, but in the throes of wars on multiple fronts, how could they be anything else?

Small moments of peace for those that spend their days at war are more valuable than any gem or commodity.

Even still, one could not ignore the call of the war for too long. Whether they ran to it, shied away from it, or simply followed it, eventually every warrior would find their way back to the front.

Back to the unending siege of the ignorant traitors and witch hunters.

Back to being cut down by those who would call themselves "liberators."

Back to staving off the tide of heretics that demand power when they should be falling in line.

It sickens me.

I had always heard tales of war, back when I was a child. War had always been one of two things in those stories: tragic or glorious. Tragic for the loss of life, but glorious for the heroes and victors.

Now, I see that war is both of those things. Equally glorious and tragic.

Tragic that we must throw our best and brightest away just to hold the line, tragic that the youth must watch their parents march off to secure a future that may never come. Tragic that parents must send their children to die, simply for the fact that they could not die in their stead. Tragic that the suffering and death is counted in numbers and statistics, like cattle. Tragic that in war, the darkest and worst of our galaxy appears. Tragic that those who would claim power and sit back to enjoy it are lounging around whilst those they see as "weak" are fighting to protect everything they know. Tragic that an entire people, an entire species, can be uprooted by monsters. Tragic that these wars have not ended.

And yet, there is glory in the struggle. Glory in that so many of our soldiers face death without fear. With hearts of kyber and durasteel they charge into the maw of our foe with no hope of survival, facing death just to buy those under their guard more time to live. Glory in that the indomitable spirit of the Sith, and the holy eyes of the Force, smile upon our heroes. Glorious in that the suffering of those that war does not call can be reshaped into something greater. Glorious in that this empire, host to a variety of peoples and species, can stare into the blinding Light and treacherous Iron and shout as one that they will not succeed.

Now more than ever, this war is holy above all else. Holy, in the sense that each and every soldier is a martyr or hero. Holy in the sense that we are the true Sith, heirs of those long past. Holy in that we did not cower and hide when our enemies reared their arms and ships against us. Holy in the sense that we still stand, as stalwart and strong as only the Sith could be.

Make no mistake my friends, these wars may be the most holy of them all.

Signed Alisteri Haxim, Acolyte of the Sith Empire