At the center of the universe, blue forms stood, arranged on an arbitrary plane.
The departed souls of Force-empowered warriors.
Their attentions were focused on one, an apparition floating at their center.
An image of despair, as the warrior known as Corletti lay on the floor, tears streaming down his cheeks, succumbing to his emotion.
One, the tall, muscular warrior known as Mentheus, spoke. "Pathetic. He is weak. He is not fit to be one of us."
Opposing him, the hooded figure responded. "He has been broken. I will reforge him." This one radiated great power. His voice was respected, although the balance of the spirits was behind Mentheus.
"Find another! Find one who is not so weak!"
"You have no power here, Mentheus. This one is mine to do as I wish with, and I will make him powerful."
"No. No, I will not let you. He will destroy himself."
With those words, Mentheus charged.
He screamed the battle cry of his forebears. An enormous two-handed sword of pure darkness formed in his hands, and he brought it down over his head in a powerful strike.
The dark one raised a hand, and blue energy flared. The sword was deflected. Mentheus reversed his stroke, and the same energy flare deflected his attack.
Mentheus paused, his sword now too far out of position to strike. He stared in awe at the nimbus of power now exploding around the hooded figure.
"Never before has this blade failed me," he explained.
"It did not fail you. You were a mighty warrior but you do not understand power. I do. The time is right - I will leave you all now, and tend to my business."
As he faded, he flashed a warning glance at Mentheus. "Do not interfere with me again."
Brad lay there, on the floor, a sense of self-loathing welling up in him.
He'd been far, far too full of himself.
He remembered what he had been like before Terra Group. White-clad, cheerful, friendly. What had he become? Brooding, dark, anti-social.
Was it any wonder Dorset had rejected him? He was not half of what he had been before. He wasn't the man she'd met in the outskirts of South Australia, the one who'd been there with wit, humour, and so much more.
Now he'd traded his soul for some flashy powers. Wonderful.
It was at this point he realised he was no longer alone.
"Corletti, you are without purpose. Now this - you have a purpose, and I will explain it to you, but at its core, it is simple."
Brad looked up, and saw a blue ghost, a figure standing calmly, arms folded into the sleeves of its hooded robe. He looked into its face and saw nothing.
"What purpose?" he asked, rising to his feet.
"Kill the Jedi."