I stare at the sand covered floor of the arena and the crowds filling the stands through the small window of my cell. This time they're real. Time seems to slow as my gaze fixates on the pulsating, buzzing blade of the guillotine. I have failed. I couldn't kill Vader or Sidious, and I'm a mess now. Blood is gushing down one leg and an arm, my face bears a nasty cut on my left cheek, and I can barely breathe without pain.

My eyes go back to the despairing faces of those chained beside me. Kanan, Adaara's husband, sits dejectedly on the floor with his arms chained above him. My heart drops, and I look at the stone floor of our cell. It's my fault she isn't here. I couldn't even avenge her or Zillah. I am worthless. I should die here. That is what I deserve. Even if I don't, I'm barely standing right now. The only thing keeping me upright is tapping into the Force.

"K-kanan," I whisper, shoulders slumping as I cough up blood, the one word already too much.

His pain-wracked eyes lift to meet my gaze. "What?" he asks, his voice a toxic mix of pain and anger. I can practically hear the defeat oozing from his voice in that one response.

"I... I'm sorry I couldn't s-save her," I rasp, spitting a mouthful of blood onto the stones.

The guards outside our cell glare at us, leveling their blasters at us.

"You two, shut up," one says.

I hang my head, unable to look at Kanan anymore. The betrayal and angry in the man's expression digs into my very soul. A tear slips down my bloodied cheek. That anger and betrayal is there because of me. She isn't here because I let her die! I let the woman he loves die. And I didn't even have the decency to avenge her.

It doesn't matter that I tried to because I failed. If you have a job to do and you fail, you still didn't do the job. You have still fallen short and are worthy of punishment for the failure. Well, I will get what I deserve soon enough.

My eyes sting with tears. There is only one thing left that I can do. And I will do it. It is going to cost me my life, but I am going to do it anyway. No matter what I have to do and no matter the sacrifice, I will help these few that remain. Only a handful of our original group remains, and I am going to fight with all I have left to make sure those few live today and for a long time after.

The door swings open, and I look up, silently burning with anger inside. The stormtroopers guarding us storm in, grabbing prisoner after prisoner. They unchain us from the wall and drag us from the cell one by one. Some still resist. The slaver woman does so. They break her legs and drag her from the cell anyway.

When it's my turn, I stare at the guards, not caring. This is just one step closer to my end goal anyway. I don't resist as they unchain me and roughly drag me, limping and gasping for breath, out into the halls leading into the arena. The crowd goes wild as we're dragged into the light. I watch as the first person is forced to the guillotine.

She's a slender young woman, just a girl in my eyes. But when her eyes meet mine, I see the weight of time and travesty ravaging her soul. She's bloody, her clothing ripped and her hair a tangled mess around her shoulders. The crowd is laughing and pointing; she wasn't in the cell with us before we were brought out, so she must've been out here. Their attention is mostly focused on her. I can only imagine what horrible things they must've done to her. She looks like she can barely stand, and I hear a cry of anguish from her over the dull roar of the crowd around us. The stormtroopers shove her to her knees, placing her head on the hollow slot. The force field engages, immobilizing her.

I watch, unable to look away. She stares back, and somehow I feel like I'm giving her strength simply by holding her gaze. I'm probably imagining things; who really feels better dying while locking gazes with a Sith? It was my kind who landed her here, after all.

The blade whizzes down, buzzing like a giant lightsaber over the noise of the crowd. I feel bile rising in my throat as her head rolls away and down into the basket a stormtrooper has ready to receive it. There is pain etched onto her face, and even though her head is severed from her body, I can hear her dying wail, thin and reedy over the crowd's massive roar. Tears fill my eyes, and I look away, retching. The soldiers holding me and in front of me give me enough room to lean over so I won't puke on them.

They jeer, laughing at the Sith who can't take bloodshed.

"It's going to be your turn next, Sith," one of them says, guffawing.

They begin to haul me toward the guillotine. I finally feel the lethargy shattering. Anger, vivid and strong, courses through my veins. I feel the strength of the Dark Side filling me. Though my body is battered, bruised, and destroyed, I suddenly feel no pain. I will be their savior. No one else is going to die. No one else!

I wrap the chains on my wrists around my arms, gripping them tightly and yanking on them before the stormtroopers can register what I'm doing. Using the Force, I rip the chains from the guards. They had me stretched out by the arms between them, but now they go stumbling back as they lose their grip on my chains.

Whipping the chains in circles on either side of my body, I scream, raw and bloody. I can feel the thick, hot lifeforce itself trickling down my chin as I do, but I don't care. I grin, relishing it and facing the crowd. "Rebels, take your stand!" I shout, unsure where the strength to do this is coming from. Surely my anger and the Force aren't all that's sustaining me... "This is your last chance. Fight for your lives. Fight for your loved ones. Fight for the fallen! Fight!"

The crowd's screams fade slowly as confusion sets in. They stare down at me and the motley group surrounding me. The stormtroopers guarding the others are in shock as well, uncertainly raising their blasters in my direction. I turn and rush them, not giving them time to consider their next move.

The rest of the rebels stare at me like I've lost my mind. I probably have, to be fair. But it doesn't matter. This is their last shot at life, so they'd better take it. Otherwise this is meaningless.

I take down the two stormtroopers holding Kanan first. He's the most fit of us to fight in my opinion, so I'd rather have him free to help. "Come on! Help me out here," I yell. "I can't do this by myself. I'm ready to die to get you all out of here; stop being ungrateful and do something!"

Kanan stares, wide-eyed. Then his incredulity turns to anger. "Get us all out? You let my wife die, but now you want to get us all out? Why didn't you save her?" he spits.

"Don't be a fool!" I snarl, grabbing his shoulder and spinning him to look at the other rebels, who have by now snapped out of their stunned silence to fight as well. "Those people are fighting for their lives. Quit being a selfish jerk and help! They'll die. You're supposed to be a Jedi. Start acting like one. Because you might be our last chance to activate the hyperdrive crystal when we get to the ship."

"Why?" Kanan asks suspiciously. "Can't one of them? Or you?"

I shake my head, looking away. "Needs to a Force user... And... It can't be me. I won't be going with you."

"Are you a moron?" Kanan hisses. "You're going to be executed."

"Look at me!" I yell. "I am dying anyway! I won't survive these injuries. Getting all of you out of here safely is the last thing I can do to atone for Zillah and Adaara. I will not let you take that away from me!"

One of the rebels—I don't have time to see who—sprints up to us, grabbing my arm and dragging me toward the fight. "You two quit bickering. We don't have time for this. Someone got a ship. We need to get there. Now!"

We join the other rebels in the mad dash for the exit where the hangar bay outside the arena is located. A group of Inquisitors and stormtroopers meet us, blocking the way. Someone shoves a lightsaber into my hand. I don't question how they got it; all that matters is that they did. I grip it tightly, shooting toward the opponents with reckless speed. Someone catches up, matching my speed. "You don't deserve to live," he pants.

"I know," I grunt. "So?"

"I don't like it... But... You're right. They need to survive. So let's do this, Sith."

I nod, determination rising within me beside the anger and despair. The faces of all those I've loved and watched die flash before me as I crash into the first Inquisitor. Our lightsabers clash, and the sound of battle fills the small hangar bay off the arena. I deflect a blow with my saber, ramming a shoulder into the Inquisitor's chest while I do so. The Inquisitor stumbles back, and I press the advantage, striking with my lightsaber.

I can feel the strength draining from me slowly as I keep losing blood. My injuries are too great; I won't make it. I have to! I have to make it, or they all die! Red-hot fire courses through me as I push past to keep fighting. I lose track of what I'm doing. Foes blur together, and I lose track of who I've cut down. I forget where I am as I lose myself to the fight.

Colors meld together. Sounds filter in and out, making no sense to me. Smells trickle into my brain, unregistered and unsorted. Blood. Metal. Burning flesh. Singed hair and clothes. Exhaust. All of it fills me with sensory input that is entirely unnoticed in the rage of the fight. I know only that I have sensed them as I focus everything I have on my footwork and blade-work. Black spots start dancing in my vision as I fight on past my body's limitations. I've been beyond that for a long time, but now I've really done it.

I feel a sharp sting, and my awareness of my surroundings suddenly rushes back into place. If there were a sound effect for the feeling, it would be a whoosh. My knees shake as I struggle to stay upright. My arm is covered in blood, and a fresh tide of it is flowing down from a shoulder wound. Annoyance spikes, and I turn, angrily cutting down the offending stormtrooper who fired the blaster.

Kanan spots me and wades through the ongoing fight to join me. "You look awful," he remarks.

"I am aware of that fact."

"One of the others got to the ship. Any minute now, he should—" Kanan is cut off by the loud humming roar of the starship's engine engaging.

"Get everyone to the ship," I say, raising my lightsaber to deflect a blow from an Inquisitor. "I'll hold them off."

"Are you insane? What is wrong with you?" Kanan shouts to be heard over the din of the fight.

Shots from blasters ricochet around us, a few hitting their marks on the other rebels nearby. "Yes, I'm insane! I'm Sith, remember? Comes with the package," I snarl, gritting my teeth. "Just get them all out alive, understand? I can't. I'm almost done, Kanan. I won't survive my wounds. Be logical about this." I shake my head as I stab the Inquisitor through the heart and watch him crumple to the ground. "I'm just another Sith... I'm not worth saving..."

"She would want you to live," he yells at me, blocking incoming blaster shots.

"Who?" I ask, though I already have that figured out.

Zillah... She wouldn't want me to let them all die just so I can live...

"Your slave girl... Zillah."

A stormtrooper marches up, leveling the blaster he is holding on us. Behind him, another Inquisitor was stalking toward us. "Alright, play time's over, boys," Missu announces, smirking.

"Just when I thought I'd get some bonding time with the Jedi..." I quip. "It's the perfect time for an argument, which everyone knows draws people closer together, obviously."

Kanan looks at me like I'm nuts. Well, I probably am. I can barely stand, dizziness is starting to set in, and I'm swaying a bit as my balance becomes faultier with each passing moment. The burn of anger is still there, but it's dying along with the rest of me.

"Kanan, get them out of here. I'm not going to survive even if you force me to come."

Kanan narrows his eyes. "That isn't the Jedi way."

"I'm a Sith!" I scream. Waving at Missu, I say, "I'm no better than she is! Maybe I'm worse. But I am a Sith! Saving me isn't an option. Go save people who need and want it, got it?" My voice cracks as I shove him a bit with my elbow. My one hand is still broken. Funny how I just noticed that. It didn't even hurt earlier when I was whipping the chains around, but now it hurts like somebody is stomping on it repeatedly. If it hurt less, I would use it to push him on his way even faster.

Kanan glances back at me as he heads off to round everyone up and direct them to the ship. His dark eyes regard me with steady contemplation as I nod and turn back to Missu. She's watching with her usual cold, calculating menace. "You done, hero boy?"

"I'm no hero, Missu. We both know that," I growl, planting my feet more firmly on the launching pad. The ship's engine is making a coughing noise; then the coughing, sputtering sound fades, and the ship's lights turn on, indicating that it is nearing take off.

"Well, poor Adaara didn't seem to agree... You're just going to die here after all you did to stay alive, then?" She laughs, snorting and hiccupping unattractively.

"Are you drunk?" I ask, glaring at her.

"Just a teensy bit," she says, shrugging. "You were all dead men last night... I figured I could celebrate your deadness."

I purse my lips, holding back the urge to make a sarcastic remark. "Whatever. That just makes you easier to kill."

"Well..." Missu stands there, thinking for a bit. "There's just you, and your rebel friends are about to take off..." She taps her chin with a smirk. "And... Don't look now."

"Wha—"

Something heavy and very solid collides with the base of my skull before I can finish the question. Everything goes dark immediately, and I leave the world of the living for the realm of unconsciousness.