The voice... there it was again; almost an echo, on the edge of his memory. The tone was familiar, the accent heavy and indicative of a Coruscanti upbringing; but even after so many years hearing it he'd never been able to put a face to those words. To say it drove him mad would be an understatement, Karth hated being confused. Even now, as he opened his eye and drank in the shadows that painted his walls, there was but one brief moment where he'd forgotten who he was. The sad thing... was that it was the most peace he'd experienced in nine years. In the years following the rise of Palpatine, former Jedi Karth De'Qora had spent his days on the move; never staying in one port or on one planet for too long, his once-formidable skill waning with age and debilitating injury. Even now, as his ravaged lungs struggled with each breath, as his artificial hand lay gently on folded knee, he'd still not grown accustomed to it. Where once had been a confident, powerful Jedi was now a shell of a man, a man whom'd thrown away his convictions long ago in the interest of maintaining anonymity in a now-hostile galaxy. A man who'd succumbed to the very weakness he'd once loathed.

There's a reason why the temple gardens give me peace; it's the once place I can go where I'm free of you. Where I'm free of us... it's all I can do to stay strong...

A different voice, her voice; the only one he could still place. Images of a sable-haired angel flickered through his mind. The images changed every time he saw them; some were beautiful, peaceful... memories of a life he'd lived before. While others were terrifying, bloody and wracked with pain, it were these images that haunted him whenever his eye shut. This woman had been his life, his compass amidst a tumultuous and unstable wartime existence, and, like everyone else he'd known and loved, he'd driven her away and lost her for good. These were the dreams that tormented him when he slept; and every time he'd dreamed them, no matter how he'd tried, he couldn't save anyone. Not the old man, not her... not anyone. His memories shattered; what little he still remembered of his past was but scattered fragments now. And no matter what he tried; this sinking feeling in his gut remained: he was but a collection of thoughts lost in the void of his guilt, and every day was a struggle just to keep what little sanity he had left.

Shattered memories; a Jedi broken of the Force, seeking to regain what he'd lost.

Searching... always searching...