The duel didn’t go as planned. He couldn’t fight the one he had raised practically half of his life. Yoda was wrong. It was impossible to fight this Sith. A Sith, not his little Padawan that he had the pleasure to see become a Knight. That’s why, he preferred to turn of his lightsaber and let his opponent Force-push him off the catwalks.
Air whipped around him as he felt his surroundings grow hotter and hotter.
He was falling.
He welcomed it, the fall to his death as little by little, his life was coming to it’s end. He couldn’t bear to live, not when his former Padawan, his child, his son, his brother, had turned to the Dark Side. Killing many innocents, younglings even. He couldn’t cope to see what the future would bring, welcoming the darkness that would bring him eternal peace.
It was funny how his own destiny mirrored that of his Master’s. Both of them had their first Padawan turn to the Dark Side. Both had to fight their own Padawan. But the difference was that while his Master survived the encounter with a much younger Padawan, he will not.
The air reached its paroxysm of heat, telling him that he finally reached the lava that was the basic composition of the planet. Bracing himself, he prepared to feel the heat and pain of the burning before he could reach the coolness that was promised once he became one with the Force.
The only thing missing was the reason why his Padawan turned. Was it him? His teaching? The Will of the Force? Or was it something else?
Still wondering on the “if” and “would be”, he hit the lava and screamed from the pain.