Okay, so I was tired of just one story being here. So, this is the beginning of a story and the start of a series of stories featuring lesser known Jedi and what might have happened to them after Order 66. Note: I will only use those in the Databank that says they were never Identified as Dead. So, for your reading pleasure, here is a new look on the fall of Anakin, and What REALLY happened in the Temple. When I finish, I will post the rest. Enjoy!!


Smoke was everywhere. The stifled echoing of boots just barely reached the ears. As if in a dream, Olana’s consciousness slowly returned. The limp forms of younglings, padawans, knights and masters alike littered the floor. But along with vision, hearing, and the rest of the senses, came the unforgettable feeling of flaming hot, then cold pain. The pain was everywhere. It did not matter where, it felt like everywhere.

Anakin. She had known there was something not right. No matter how many fellow Jedi had tried to tell her there was nothing to worry about. No matter how many citizens sang his praises during the war, there had always seemed to her to be something odd, something not quite right. Here was the proof. Lying all around her was the work of “The Chosen One”. The so-called savior had come in, Lightsaber brandished, with an entire legion of clones. They had then proceeded to cut down any Jedi they saw. Olana first instinct was to run to the younglings and find a way to get them out. But before she could, they had all run up to the Council’s chambers and she didn’t get there in time. The site of all those children, of all species, all together in death, by someone they were striving to be. No more.

Slowly, Olana Chion opened her eyes. The sound of the clones was getting fainter, but the smoke was building up. If she still wanted to survive, she had to get up despite the pain. Gingerly she rolled over on her side and propped up one elbow. Pain shot up and she started to take notice of her injuries. There were multiple blaster shot the had grazed her on both arms and legs, but still allowed her to walk. The biggest problem was her face and clothes.

No longer neat and clean were her robes. Instead, they were covered in scorch marks from where Anakin’s near misses had come in contact with her long robe. Also, a line of blood from where the almost killing bow to her face had been bleeding was drying up. Olana reached up to her tender face. The cut ran from her hairline all the way down to her collarbone. There was no way to get it healed now, and it would most likely leave a scar.

Memories that she would rather forget started to flood her thoughts. She ran down from the Council chamber, she had to fight her way through five? Ten clones? It did not matter. She had to get to Anakin before he did anything more. After rounding a few more corners, with each hallway filled with more dead Jedi, she found him. The horrors the reached her sight was maddening. Here was the Chosen one, fighting his fellow Jedi and mowing them down with no effort at all. She tried to reach out to him, but she got back was anger and fear. The dark side. Anakin Skywalker had fallen.