The World Eater
Space, at this very moment in time it had seemed the cold darkness of space was the only one to comfort him. Kyrel Ren, Master and perhaps the last of the Knights of Ren. On board the derelict and battle damaged Resurgent Star Destroyer that floated through space. Kyrel was the only man alive, aboard a marooned ship of a once golden age. An age when Imperial influence was persistent across the galaxy, visions of men and their ideals of bringing the galaxy under new rule. He himself was one of those that believed in such a vision. The vision of a galaxy united under the First Order. Where the ideals of Imperial governance that had remained for centuries, was the just and true way of the galaxy. And now here was the sum of such ideals only years later. Scattered as warlords, remnants, and individuals were the only evidence that such a history existed. Such was the way of many empires that had come and gone since the emergence from the Dark Age.
He floated their, his body cold. Trapped in a meditative state between death and life. He was not dead, but neither was he living. Instead only cold rage had burned deep inside of him. Was once a blazing inferno now smoldering embers of a man that had led by an obedient sense of loyalty, duty and vision. A man that would have done anything for his Master. Now he was floating through space, one of the last that remained of his kind. He had wondered to himself, if this was the end? If he would die, and wondered if it were to be would his mother seek to comfort him one last time, or should he fall into the darkest depths of Hell where he should belong. It seemed that for now, his quiet rage, his desire to live told him that it was for the Force to decide.
The Destroyer had been giving a beacon across space, any vessel in the Outer Rim could find it if looked hard enough. Even so thoughts came to his mind, that the dark warrior, that an evil man should die alone on board a relic of the past. But for now. Kyrel waited.. Waited to what the Force would decide of his fate.
He floated their, his body cold. Trapped in a meditative state between death and life. He was not dead, but neither was he living. Instead only cold rage had burned deep inside of him. Was once a blazing inferno now smoldering embers of a man that had led by an obedient sense of loyalty, duty and vision. A man that would have done anything for his Master. Now he was floating through space, one of the last that remained of his kind. He had wondered to himself, if this was the end? If he would die, and wondered if it were to be would his mother seek to comfort him one last time, or should he fall into the darkest depths of Hell where he should belong. It seemed that for now, his quiet rage, his desire to live told him that it was for the Force to decide.
The Destroyer had been giving a beacon across space, any vessel in the Outer Rim could find it if looked hard enough. Even so thoughts came to his mind, that the dark warrior, that an evil man should die alone on board a relic of the past. But for now. Kyrel waited.. Waited to what the Force would decide of his fate.
