IC:
It may sound absurd, but don't be naive
Even heroes have the right to bleed
I may be disturbed, but won't you concede
Even heroes have the right to dream
And it's not easy to be me.
Even heroes have the right to bleed
I may be disturbed, but won't you concede
Even heroes have the right to dream
And it's not easy to be me.
Ancient civilizations had virtually now means of communication beyond their empires. They had no adequate means of transportation. For many of them, the only contact they had with other races was war.
Yet, something startling had been discovered by studies conducted concerning the myths and legends of different civilizations. Each and every race of people had heroes in their stories, although these civilizations were often separated by thousands of years. Mankind has some kind of need to develop heroes in society.
For the Greeks it was Jason and the Argonauts, Heracles, Perseus, and Theseus. The Egyptians took their Pharohs and made them into god-like figures. People were labeled 'heroes' because of the great deeds they had done, the skills they possessed.
The Jedi Master Kahn may have been called a hero; he had started out as a Sith, overcome the Darkness inside of him, and become a full Jedi. He had defeated numerous foes, and gone through rough times without giving in totally to the Dark Side.
Of course, being a hero isn't as great as people think it is. Heroes, as a general rule, are stronger than the average citizen. They don't feel physical or emotional pain the same way that others do; they're expected to be tough, to be invulnerable. They can't get hurt, and they can't be human.
So what happens when a hero does feel pain? What happens when a piece of his heart is destroyed? And then what will occur when someone that he depends on becomes an ally with those he fights against? Even heroes should have the right to bleed.
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A stream of water gently trickled through a forest as sunlight peeked through the foliage of the plantlife that thrived on Naboo. It was midday, and although the sun had risen to its zenith, a light breeze made the temperature comfortable.
Within a small clearing in the forest, a young man sat cross-legged, his eyes closed in meditation. His face was youthful, but there were lines in it that revealed a life full of hardships. His brown hair was cut short, and he wore the brown robe of a Jedi. Hiden by the folds of cloth, a lightsaber rested on his belt.
The Jedi Master's expression was troubled, and movement behind his eyelids revealed a certain restlessness. Something was not right with the Force, and had not been right for a time. Normally, Kahn would have passed it off as being the tremors from Hanna's death that still haunted him. For Kahn, the Force had never felt quite right after his wife died.
However, this disturbance was different. It wasn't caused by someone's death, but it did have the tinge of death with it. It was clouded, as though with the Dark Side. Familiar as well, at least to Kahn. Familiar and yet Dark, he wasn't sure what to make of it. It wasn't one of the Sith he knew from his past; he would have recognized the signature. No, he had the nagging feeling that it was someone he knew very well, a good friend.
But...that wasn't possible. He just wasn't able to understand it correctly; the thought that had briefly entered his mind as a solution to the disturbance was one that he refused to entertain; it would never happen. Or would it?