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I don't usually put my own thoughts on a datapad; other than notes and musings over some research or project, there's nothing much else to be found here. But I guess I felt the need to write a letter. To myself. Cause many things transpired, many things changed after Ziost. Here I am, unable to move my legs, buried underneath a pile of senatorial proceedings and bureaucracy handed to me by my dear friend Auteme. She had taken off to somewhere, a vacation, I guess. Something about a guy called Lucien Dooku. It is what it is, not my business. I am rambling on, my thoughts are fleeting between the pile of political documentation, the healer's reassurance that I would walk again - a miracle she'd said - and well...my brother.

Ziost was, is and will be my crucible. For years I had believed my brother dead or lost to the maw of the boundless galaxy, only to find him corrupted by the Dark Side. In a stubborn quest to be the Jedi I sought to be, I had recklessly joined the mission to Ziost; even if I had been told, back on Korriban, that I was not yet ready. But who was ever ready? Patience is a virtue is what I had always been told but I am starting to think it's a luxury - one the galaxy cannot afford.

Since I had arrived on Coruscant to be a Jedi, roughly ten years or so ago, all I had been hearing was of the atrocities of the Sith as their rampage engulfed the galaxy from the Tingel Arm to the Core. Nothing to stand in their way. Where were the Jedi? Where were our Masters? Patience. And I grew up, behind the all-knowing, safe walls of the temple. The screams of the galaxy, the cries for help fell on deaf ears and blind eyes. Patience. My mind and soul tore itself on what was right and what was wrong. Were we not the protectors of the galaxy? The Light's servants? Patience. And we waited, and waited, and waited for, perhaps, a miracle to happen and the Sith to disappear; preaching ideals and virtues in the confines of our safe space. Patience. I question whether I had lost my brother to the Sith or to the indifference of the Jedi. Patience.

And when the bones and skulls buried the domes of the clergy and the rivers of blood drowned the pulpits of sermons, young Jedi Knight Ryv Karis chose to act - determined to rally to the galaxy's defense. A lot of us, merely padawans and freshly knighted Jedi, followed him. We began with nothing but a leader and a purpose.

My brother may very well be completely lost to the Dark Side, I don't know for sure, but no more brothers should suffer the same fate.

That is my purpose.