Lost Jedi

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Fan Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic

A padawan of Luke Skywalker flees from Ben Solo and searches for his friends.

Submitted: December 22, 2017

A A A | A A A

Submitted: December 22, 2017




Lost Knight


My name is Mathis Coriiga. My whole life, I’ve trained to be a Jedi Knight. At eleven,  I learned the ways of the Force. And I was good. 

Some even said I had a natural gift for it.  I felt confident, sure of myself. For the next fourteen years, I trained diligently in the mysterious ways of the force and mastered the martial art of the lightsaber. 

I had several masters, and many rivals. I surpassed my rivals one by one. They fell off. The training was too vigorous. Everywhere we turned, there was a new mountain to climb. I pushed harder and harder as it got steeper.

I remember Master Luke’s teachings. 

“Do or do not, there is no try.”

Luke Skywalker was my wisest teacher. It seemed nothing was too large or to difficult for him to conquer. He believed in the all-encompassing power of the force. That is was larger than us. That we each had a purpose predetermined by it. 


Now, my training is complete. But, I am not a Jedi Knight. When I learned I would not be proclaimed a Jedi before my adoring friends. I was devastated. As were all the other trainees. We all believed we would excel beyond the others and become noble warriors of peace.


But we did not. 


We didn’t know why. Were there enough Jedi already? Why were we trained? This was our purpose, our destiny. We left the temple and walked out into the cold world with nowhere to turn. Cast out like vagabonds. 


Luke vanished. We don’t know why.


But he left us alone. Anxious. Doubting ourselves. Were we not skilled enough to be great Jedi? Had our years of training not been enough? 


How does one work for so long, single-minded, focused, sure of oneself, only to learn that there is nothing waiting for him? No title of Jedi, no Knighthood. 


Just. Nothing. Alone on coruscant. The vast, filthy city.


Not Jedi. Wanderers. Workers. 




Yes. Some would turn to the dark side. The sun seems eclipsed as friends turned against me. Equally anxious and alone, they turned bitter, angry and petty. 


Fear leads to anger. Anger leads to suffering. Suffering leads to hatred. Hatred leads to the dark side. 


Fear can grip you. And it can tear you apart from within. That’s why I must embrace it, let it take me momentarily. And then let it wash away. 


I am still strong in the ways of the force. Stoic, like my father before me. 


Why did Luke abandon us? We may never know. Will we become great Jedi Knights? Maybe not. Maybe we weren’t meant to be. But, there is always something else we can do. There it always a candle to light in the darkness. The force lives within us. 

What the world chooses to anoint us is irrelevant. A Jedi is steady in the mind. A Sith is weak, frightened, selfish and alone. 




Chapter 2

No purpose. No place in the world. The weight of uncertainty, of loneliness, and despair weigh on my chest like an anvil. I found myself waking up on hard metal. 

Looking around, the platform I lay on looks like an abandoned star port. Ships must have come in here during the clone wars. Merchants from other systems bringing good from their homeward to entice the locals. Then, as Palpatine rose to power, the docks would be filled with massive military transports. Clone troopers would be unloaded by the thousands to enforce the will of the senate. 


I climb to my feet and dust off my robes. What the hell am I doing here? I quickly check the side of my belt - my lightsaber is still there. Good. I wasn’t robbed. Things could be worse. Things could always be worse. 

Odd as it is, I watch a speck of dust float by. I feel present, no longer anxious. This is unusual. Then I realize. Shit. 

I indulged in a healthy dose of Alpinian ale last night. A very healthy dose. And I haven’t drank since I was fourteen and my brother and I stole a keg of the home made brew on my cousin’s farm. If the Jedi Order had found out, I would have been kicked out of the temple. Then I never would’ve reached the rank of Jedi. 

Good thing I stayed straight and narrow since then.

Here I am. I’m a failed Jedi with a drinking problem. Waking up in an empty spaceport after a night of feeling bad for myself and drowning my sorrows. 

Luke often talked to us about perspective. When the Jedi were mighty and numerous, some would of course be more powerful than others. Stronger with the force, more skilled with a lightsaber. Growing up, all the boys ever wanted was to be Jedi. Once you become a Jedi, now you want to be the greatest Jedi. Than, even though you’re one of the most revered and accomplished warriors in the galaxy, you feel mediocre. For every one Mace Windu, there were a hundred more whose names are forgotten. 

I try to remember this lesson. So, I turned to the bottle. Ben turned to the dark side. it’s not like any of us finished our training. Like I said, things could always be worse. 

Water. The splitting headache, churning stomach, and cracked lips are screaming at me to dump my head in a bantha trough.

This place is nothing but metal. I find a restroom, try the sinks. Nothing. I’m so thirsty I can barely take it. How did Luke possibly manage to grow up on Tatooine? A desert planet where they had to farm for moisture. Did he feel like this all the time? Maybe I grew up soft. The jungles of Maridun were lush, comfortable. 

Pang. That feeling hits. Homesickness. It was always a weakness for me. I would never say it, but god I missed home. Mother, Father, brothers. They all stayed. I got the idea in my head early to become a Jedi, and never once thought twice about it. I left home as a boy with a singular focus, only to realize how much love and joy I’d sacrificed in the name of this quest. Almost everyone who grows up there stays. I believed I was meant for something special. Something greater. 

I wouldn’t say I was completely wrong, either. Maybe one in a thousand young boys and girls can use the force like I can. So of course, I knew I’d grow up to be the next Luke Skywalker. 

Another sharp feeling hits me, not in my heart though. My gut. I dry heave. I dry heave again. Then, up it comes, the stinging, horrible stomach bile. Hardly any food or substance in there. That really burns. 

I hear the sound of a transport. Hurrying outside, I see it on the southeastern port of the docking bay. Cargo. And by the looks of it, it’s manned by a droid. This place might not have a living thing for miles. And that means no water. 

I hurry up to the transport. It’s hovering on a steady path, flying about forty feet above the ground. With about all the grace and athleticism I can muster, I leap and manage to catch on to the back carriage. 

Swinging myself from below up on the sides, I’m able to land on top of the cargo pit. It’s some kind of black gravel, dusty and sharp. It stains my boots. I trudge through it to the next cart.

I’m able to skip along the narrow sides of the carts, gradually gaining momentum, force-leaping towards the front of the transport. It levitates over a massive ravine, as if there was an invisible bridge. Looking out at the early morning sun, refracting off the brown clouds, there’s something tremendously peaceful about the atmosphere. I forget my parched throat for a moment. 

Caught in the daydream, I nearly leap off the front of the transport. There’s a small cockpit in front of the row of carts, with an old J2 droid driving. J2’s look like people with no limbs, just a rectangular torso and some light-up eyes on their diamond-shaped head. 

I slip into the cockpit, behind the J2 model pilot. He’s a little beat up, but he’s highly functioning. That means he’s got cleaning fluid, and a water tank. I use the force to extract his screws in the back. 


The thing doesn’t know what’s happening to it, but it’s freaking out anyway. These were originally designed by the empire. Freaking stormtroopers. 

There’s a blue tank, looks like it’s probably oil. I feel around, find a softer container. It comes out easily. I open it to find the most beautiful sight my eyes ever beheld: water. 

It’s about a quart. I lean back and try to pour it all down at once. It was a lot easier on the eyes than the palette. I nearly choke on the taste of rusty metal, and the bit of cleaning fluid that seems to have seeped in. 

I suffer through it. It’s just enough to quench the agonizing thirst, not quite enough to make me vomit all over this poor J2 droid. 

“Thanks,” I manage to wheeze to the robot. 


I’m back on top of the coal cart, laying down in it, wishing I had my cloak to keep the black filth off of me. But hell, it’s more comfortable than the metal. I close my eyes and try to sleep. 

The ride is incredibly smooth. I might actually be able to sleep off the rest of this hangover. Slowly drifting back to sleep.


“Move it!” a gruff voice startles me back awake.

Shit, someone’s found me up here.

I look around, but I’m still alone. The voice is barking orders to someone outside the train. 

I sneak a glance over the side of the carriage. My heart nearly leaps out of its chest Stormtroopers. Dozens of them. They’re rounding up children on a farm, yanking them away from sobbing parents.  Boy and girls alike are being taken. 

You should stay hidden. You’re a washed-up, wannabe Jedi with a bad hangover.

I’d tell him we both know that ain’t happening. The transport is hurtling past the scene. Mustering all my strength, I leap off the side, flipping overhead into the air and descending upon the Stormtroopers.

I land with grace – shit, my right foot slips on a rock, and my whole body falls after it, landing hard on my ass.


I’m back on my feet in an instant as if it never happens. But, you’ve never seen a squadron of Stormtroopers, the most incompetent soldiers in the galaxy, clutching their sides like this.  Some idiot just jumped off a train and didn’t stick the landing into a mass of them.

Vwoom. One side of my lightsaber flashes to life.

Vwoom. The other.

I wield a green double-bladed saberstaff. with four-foot blades on either side.

They stop laughing. Thirty-three weapons raise and point directly at me. The clicks of laser-power cartridges cocking into place. I can hear the beams charging. 

My heart starts to beat a tick faster, but I can keep it in check. Thirty-three stormtroopers surrounding one Padawan is still good odds. I can see their feet inching backwards, away from the hum of my blade. 

A trooper steps forward. “Stand down, civilian” 

I crouch and begin to twirl it over my head. The hum starts to oscillate, vwoom, vwoom, vwoom. Faster and Faster. I lower it in front of me, the spinning blades forming a shield in front of my face. I maneuver towards the troopers holding the children. 

One shoots — it deflects off the spinning blade and cuts through his own neck. The little boy he was clutching by the collar runs back to his mother. 

“Stand down!” shouts a captain. “That weapon is the property of the First Order!”

“The lightsaber is beholden to its creator,” I reply as I approach them, slowly spinning the blades, conserving energy but remain ready to strike. I turn towards the other trooper, holding a young girl hostage. “Take your arm off her if you want to keep it.”

“You’re no Jedi,” he replies. “The Jedi are dead.”

“So is the Empire. But here you are, dressed as stormtroopers.” I retort. 

“The Empire has fallen. The First Order has risen.” 

For the first time I notice their red and black banners. Who the hell are these guys? 

The Captain speaks up, “Ready soldiers!”

Thirty-two guns arm their weapons. “Aim!”

I keep the blades spinning, making sure to shield the children behind me. 


The whole place is like a storm of lasers and dust flying in different directions. The rapid fire lasers flying back and forth, destroying the land and hitting everything between myself and the troopers. 

They’re over almost as soon as they began. I slowly stop spinning my saber staff and watch as the dust settles. 

Not a single stormtrooper is left standing. 

I look behind to make sure the kids are alright. 

“You okay?”

They peer up from under their arms. Both nod their tiny heads. Tough kids. Tougher than I ever was. 

My lightsaber blades extinguish. A mother walks up to me. 

“A Jedi,” she whispers.

“A failed Jedi,” I reply. 

“I don’t see failure. I see two children who will not have to become stormtroopers.” 


I splash water in my face in the mother’s washroom. I chug a huge glass of it too. Nothing like a good lightsaber scuffle to sweat out a hangover. Looking at myself in her mirror, my eyes are sunken, worn. Black bags have formed around them. My beard is scraggly and poorly groomed. 

I exit into the living room. The children are at the table being served a meal. I wonder if it’s the only one they’ll get today.  

“Please, stay and have some,” The Mother says to me. 

You should politely refuse, but you’re starving. And you just saved her children. And if you’re not a Jedi, is there really any shame in taking…

“Maybe a little, thank you,” I reply, hoping she was sincere in offering me a portion of he meager food supplies. 




I find myself standing on the edge of a cliff. Below me is the crashing of waves. I inch my way further, further. I close my eyes, my toes gripping the edge, the cold wind howling through my hair. 

This close. This close to death.

I inhale. My heart is racing. I let the air out through my nose, the cold air licking my face. 

Finally, I step back.I never thought of jumping. I just like to remind myself of my mortality. When the anxiety comes on, I have to. When my heart is beating out my chest over nothing, I need to remind myself that it’s okay. I need to remember that fear is only useful in the face of true danger. 

The anxiety comes from self doubt, and insecurity. Not even the wisest Jedi can predict the future. We must all walk forth into uncertainty. Once my path was clear, I knew my place, but when Luke left, it became clouded. 

This wasn’t the worst anxiety attack I’ve had. I’ll get through it in an hour or so.

“Mat?” a woman’s voice comes from behind me. 

I turn to see Jory, another Palawan from Luke’s temple. She’s green-skinned with dreadlocked hair. 

“Hello, Jory.” 

She looks as if she’s about to cry. She hugs me. 

“I thought he killed you.”


We walk along the edge of the cliff, looking out towards the sun setting over the clouds. 

“You look well. Stronger. I always thought the training was taking a toll on you,” I say. 

“Luke pushed us past our breaking points. I barely ate, barely slept. And for what? What was it all for? Not to mention, you look like shit.”’


“Anytime,” she smirks. 

“Struggle makes you stronger. We thought that training was the struggle, but I think it’s this. This is the hard part. And facing Ben will be even harder.”

“He doesn’t go by Ben Solo anymore, you know.”

“What does he go by?”

“Kylo Ren.”

“Kylo Ren. Did he kill everyone else?”

“No, Mylen Pol and Ellio Patz are still alive. Where they ran to, I do not know,” she replies. 

I think about it for a second. “I might.”


Chapter 3



Our shuttle descends down to it a little too quickly, the old rickety ship was the only taxi service we could afford. The doors pop open, Jory and I hop out. It’s a windy day in the desert, sand immediately starts whipping our face. 

“We better find a spot to stick this storm before we start looking,” she says. 

I point to a metal shack, just off a moisture farm a few hundred yards away. 

The lock is easy enough to unlock without breaking with a quick wave of the hand, and sneak inside. 

I close the door behind me, feeling the gears of the lock with the force. I re-lock it behind us. I look around, it’s a shack with a couple speeders under tarps. 

“Guy, girl, trapped by a sandstorm. Time to light a fire?” Jody quips. 

“Don’t get any funny ideas,” I reply. 

“Not much for funny these days,” Jory muses. “Things weren’t supposed to turn out this way. It’s not fair.” 

“Life isn’t fair. It’ll never be fair. But we are one with the force, and the force is with us.” I say. 

I’m not sure where that came from. I didn’t think it, i just said it. 



Our speeders shoot across the desert, electricity racing between the engines. It’s such a rush, I can almost take my mind off of not being a Jedi for a second. 

This is better than being a Jedi. Racing. Free. The sheer adrenalin-

THUMP. My speeder knocked a rock and sends me careening sideways, headed straight for the side of a massive stone pillar. Nearly biting my tongue off as I brace myself and bank to the right, I regain control. I take it down a few.

“You good!?” Jory calls out to me. 

“Yeah,” I laugh. “Got a little to into it there. I’m rusty.”

“Mat…” a disembodied voice speaks to me.

Who the hell was that…

I look around for the voice, but see no one. Not even a force ghost. Not like I’d even know one if I ever saw it.  

Jory notices. “What is it?” She asks. 

“Did you hear something?” 


I stop listening and start feeling. There is a presence in the force near us. It feels like someone is shadowing us. A guardian angel? A phantom menace? 

“I don’t think we’re alone,” I say. 

We abandon the speeders and continue onward, into the desert, in search of our friends.




I hold my lightsaber against my belly. It’s not on, but I’m one press of the button from death. All I have to do is press it…. 

The hot beam cuts through my belly. The pain is so intense, I need it to be over. Let it end. Let it all go black. 


I wake up sweating bullets. Suicidal ideations. Not good. Not good at all. Never thought I’d get here. But when you devote your life to an ideal and the world tells you it’s impossible, suddenly failure feels like death. If I never wanted this in the first place, I would be fine. Why couldn’t I be a happy farmer? A carpenter? Am I born with too much privilege? Every time I question myself, it just seems to make things worse. 

Jory. Where is she? I look around, she’s gone. Not good. 

“Jory!” I whisper. 


I step outside. The night is pitch black. An icy wind chill sends shivers through my whole body, as if the world would never be warm again. It’s cold every night in the desert, but this is something else, as if death itself had filled the air. 

The red beam of a crackling, hilted lightsaber ignites the darkness. It’s him, Ben Solo. 



I don’t turn my saber-staff on. Challenging him would be a mistake. I don’t inch backwards either. One wrong move and he’ll be on me in a moment. 

“Draw your weapon,” Ben growls. Actually it’s more like a shriek.  

I can see how it plays out. I challenge the man who killed all of my friends, close my eyes, let the force flow through me and vanquish him, restoring balance to the galaxy.

And I will… at the end of the movie.

I never said I was a hero. 

“DRAW YOUR WEAPON!” He shouted in his signature nasal scream. 

“Where’s Jory?”  I calmly reply. 

Ben just glares. 

“Did you kill her?”

“What do you think?” He scowls. Trying to provoke me into a rage, no doubt. 

Ben plunges his lightsaber into my stomach, his eyes glowing red, the hilts of his blade ripping through my abdomen.

I think she’s —“ before I can finish the thought, he’s on me with fury in his eyes, no longer waiting for me to draw my weapon. 

In a flash, my saber is drawn, one blade ignited, just in time to block his attack. It saves my life but I’m still thrown backwards onto my ass.

“Get up!” He screams. God, he’s really fucking annoying to fight.

I roll over backwards onto my feet. I stand tall. It’s time to end this motherfucker. I ignite the second side of my lightsaber.

Suddenly, it’s like I’m weightless, and Ben is rising up in front of me. Oh wait, he’s not rising up, I’m falling. The ground has given way from beneath me and I am plummeting down a cliffside with no bottom in sight. As I fall further and further, I see the red glow of his light saber. He must be watching to make sure I die on impact. 

What a way to go. A fall. I knew he would kill me, but at least that would have been heroic. But this is what I deserve, an long drop and an abrupt -

SPLASH. Freezing cold water. Really fucking freezing. And I’m not dead. 

My head pops up. It’s pitch black down here. I reach out, there’s an icy wall to my left… and an icy wall to my right. There’s a forceful current dragging me, deeper into the planet? I’m not sure. It certainly feels like I’m plummeting. 

If I could only see ahead of me - CLUNK. My head bangs into something hard, knocking me back under the water. When my head pops back up, I can taste blood pouring into my mouth. It’s still gushing after getting dunked. That’s not good. 

Suddenly I’m free falling, again. That’s not good. Another splash and I hit sand. It’s shallow water. I must be near land. I look up and can see the stars. 

That’s good. 

I landed in water, again.

That’s good.

I can see shapes to my left and begin swimming towards them. The water gets shallower. I scramble onto land, panting, bleeding and freezing. I need a fire. My lightsaber will cauterize my wound. I reach to my side to grab it and…

No. No no no no no no no no. It’s gone. Of course it’s gone. The one thing in the entire world that I can’t afford to lose. 

Even though I’m freezing, my face is hot. I need that saber.

Hey dumb-ass. Use.. the.. fucking.. force.

I am a dumb-ass. But, I do have some experience in using the force. I reach my freezing left arm out. It’s shivering so hard, I doubt I’ll have the where-with-all to properly control it. But then, I feel something. It’s either a rock or my lightsaber. 

I think it’s my lightsaber. My instinct is confirmed when it flies out of the water and into my hand. Tight.

I use it first as a torch. I need something to burn. There’s some brush around, it will have to do. I light a small fire using the heat of the saber. It’s not exactly a funeral pyre, but in this weather, it will have to do. 

My hands go from numb to just “very cold”. It’s something. The more pressing issue ahead is the open wound on the side of my head. I have to do something about it, but my options are limited. The heat from a lightsaber can seal any wound instantly. 

I can feel the blood pouring down my head. It’s not a paper cut, that’s for sure. I turn on one side of my saber, and roll up the sleeve of my robe.

I bite the rolled up sleeve as hard as I can and hold the sword against my head. 

I can’t have held it there for more than half a second, but it may has well have been a lifetime. It wasn’t just the burning, but the headache that came with it. My whole brain may as well have been exploding. 


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