The Chosen One: Chapter Fifty


Bare feet walked across a snowy tundra, killing everything the feet touched, leaving behind a trail of death in the individual’s wake. Gusts of cold wind blew the person’s cloak about them as they walked across the plains that they had created from the very ocean that used to occupy the entire planet.

She looked up at the sky, her eyes unblinking as snowflakes twirled down upon her in a slow descent. Her face was calm but her blood was boiling with anger.

“You think you can defeat me? You think you can destroy what I have worked so hard to create? No. I will not lose to you. I will never fade away. The dark side is more powerful than anything and I will quench the rebellious spirits in anyone after I am finished destroying all of you!”

She knelt, placing her hand against the icy ground. Everything began to rumble, the wind’s speed increased, and her eyes closed. She could feel the midichlorians around her closing in and twisting around in response to her direction. She bent the midichlorians’ will, making it her own, and began to create life. But unlike others who copied her genius by trying to make a life of their own or influencing the midichlorians to become immortal, she could make life in any way, shape, or form that she dreamed of.

“My child,” she whispered.

When her eyes opened a man stood before her. He was utterly perfect from head to toe; short brown hair, sea-green eyes, caramel skin, full lips, a perfectly chiseled face, and physique. He stared blankly ahead until she stood, reaching out to cup his face.

“My son. My perfect creation. Just like the dark side, you are beautiful. Powerful. And you are the key to my victory against the usurpers.”

“And that is my purpose?” he asked. “To fight your war?”

This made her eyebrows furrow. “Yes. It is my bidding.”

“Always,” he said.

She smiled but within she felt a sense of worry. Creating life was difficult. It took skill, time, and precision. One wrong thought, one lapse of concentration, and the individual could be different than intended.

Was there a glitch in this young man? A flaw that could be influenced by her enemies? She looked into his eyes and she saw the strength within him and yet she couldn’t rid herself of any doubt.

She summoned a blade of darkness, placing it into his hands. The hilt was pure black but the blade was engraved with symbols of power. It would be a formidable weapon in his hand. He looked at in his hands, gazing at it with a blank stare.

“Arran, my great warrior, you will bring peace to the galaxy.”

He looked up at her.

“Kill every single rebel…but…” her nose curled in a snarl, “bring the girl to me.”

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