The Hidden Truth

I really, desperately, in the most painful way, wished that I had my shoes. The jungle floor wasn’t soft muddy dark ground dirt. It was, at times, a foot thick with sharp, pointy leaves, torn covered vines, and sticks at strange angles everywhere. As careful as I was, looking at each future step, the time I reached the temple’s complex my feet were a swollen, bleeding, red stomps of human flesh, with the blisters pulsing in unknown pain. My clothes had semi dried to stiff pieces of cloth that had a horrible, gagging smell of the stinky, rotting river, strengthened by the hot sun of Yavin and the stench of my own sweat.

Most people, when in this amount of pain, usually let their mind wonder off to some problem to keep distracted. My mind was no different, except that the “problem” I repeatedly played was the last twenty four hours. There mere thought of seeing my father, like in the nightmares I suffered through, now have been shown to my master, caused my hands to tremble slightly, my vision turn red, and more sweat pour down my sticky wet body. I saw the shock and horror Mirmo unsuccessful hide from his face and features. This flare of anger would last for seconds before a powerful, overwhelming fear would take over, turning the hot rivers running down me turning into the iciest jets coming from winter snow. I couldn’t face, couldn’t handle, couldn’t owe up to the fact that I was running away again. That was when the shame would set in and tears ran down, adding to the sweat and blood. I was a coward and there was no nice face I could put on that word. I couldn’t help but run away. It seemed to be the only option. My heart would race, causing my legs to match the speed. If I could, if it was possible, I would run from the darkness in myself and never think or feel it again.

I angrily pushed another dark leafy branch, realizing that was another mistake when the pain exploded in my forearm. I was fairly sure at this point I had an allergic reaction to what ever that head level plant was, and the red, itchy and searing skin proved my hypothesis. A look up from the ground told me I had reached my destination and just in time too as the sun was sinking into the forest floor. This temple was differently built, but made from the same quarry as the Jedi temple. The Jedi temple focused on height and appearing to be big, but lacked minute detail or an artist’s touch. The temple was not much of a pyramid, but with a noticeable flat base and various other stories built on top, making the thing look more like a strangely shaped castle. To enforce the idea of the castle, the temple was surrounded by a glass still pond, or moat, that spanned several yards wide. The closer I came to the edge of the pond, the more curiosity grew about the place.

According to what I had read, the place was the strong hold, the main temple, the core power of the Sith’s rule. He had other temples built, like the one the Jedi were occupying, but this was the important one. After he was killed by the Jedi who had finally gotten their act together for the great Sith War, his presences in the Force had gone back to resign in this temple standing before me. Then when Luke Skywalker came with his first dozen students, the Sith’s temple and dark power were discovered by two students, killing one of them and turning the other one for a brief time. Once the mess was over with, Corran had the evil temple destroyed with a good torpedo, but here was the temple before me. I looked again, searching for blast marks and rumble, but this was not the same temple. Yet, as my mind would not get over the fact, it looked like the one I had read about. I didn’t know how many other temples had been built or their location, but I had found one of them still standing.

There was a voice in my mind, a quiet, soft one, full of wisdom and common sense that whispered darkness and disaster. This voice was barely heard over the scream of emotion and ignored. The voice had been pushed back when I left the Jedi. Besides, this temple in front of me seemed innocent enough. If anything, the quiet, unmoving pool gave the place a gentle and inviting look. It was hard to believe a hopelessly corrupt man bent on the loser path had this graceful building built. I decided to go ahead and explore the temple.

Through my research I knew to look at the surface on the pond for stepping stones. The stones weren’t too hard to find. The stones, as my research told me, did create the effect that one was standing on water, and one was more powerful than reality told. The temple was on a small island and took up most of the swampy, muddy land. There was one stone entrance with a heavy stone door. I was worried I wouldn’t be able to get in. I walked around the building, that was bigger than I thought it was, and was half way around when I heard distance rumble of thunder with a breeze that blew my strangled hair around. I groaned, feeling the sting of my depression grow deeper. When my tour was complete, I stood at the door, wondering how easy it would be to get in and avoid the coming storm. I pushed on the door, thinking it would swing inward. Nothing happened. I stood back and looked at the carvings, the curves of the stone, and the general impression.

Looking back gave me the first sign that the innocent feeling I got was a lie. A thought came to me. This building was thought up by a Sith, one that had done a respective amount of damage to the galaxy. Even when I wasn’t on the edge of collapsing, I always have a mind to respect anyone, good or bad, if they did something meaningful. In order to understand this temple, I would have to enter the mind of this legendary individual.

Evil didn’t mean stupid and if he was able to conquer a local tribe and had enough sense to build all these temples, he had a brain, and a smart one at that. He probably didn’t want to let the local tribal people have any chance of walking in one of his temples and destroying one. My sources didn’t mention anything the slaves being Force sensitive, so perhaps this man thought the only people worthy of coming inside. I unfocused my eyes and refocus them on the door again, trying to look for clues. The décor on the door and around the door frame was alien to me. Still, the door seemed to speak power and dominance. I went back to the door and felt around the rough cold stone. My hand came across a hidden in the texture the outline of a circle, the size of my finger pad. I pressed hard. Nothing worked. I kicked the door hard and cursed my already sore, now pounding foot. I slide down to the ground and hide my face in my hands and knees, trying not to cry. I couldn’t stand this. I wanted to disappear from everything and everyone. I wanted this to end. I wanted to die. In the middle of my thoughts, the threatening clouds reminded me I had to get inside. I stood up and thumbed the circle slowly and then pressed the middle in a mindless way. To my surprise, the door opened. I walked into and was plunged into pure darkness.