The Confession of Sariel Thrawn

Those of you who have reached this point in the tale will know that I have much to confess.

More than most.

But it was not always so.


There was a time when this soul of mine was pristine and unfettered.
Pure and clean.

When I think back, it seems like so long ago. Another life. Another world. Another person.


I have, since that time, done innumerable things worthy of confession.
Crimes and misdemeanors.

My name has become famous. Or infamous.
Depending on your point of view.

Unspeakable acts of wanton cruelty.

The evil of the Georgetown incident would be enough to condemn billions of souls to hell's embrace.

But it was not billions.

It was me.


Nor is there a hell, except for the one I've made. For myself and for those around me.

The weak and the strong have been crushed under my boot-heel.

I have gladly choked the life out of kith and kin.

Feeling my brothers throat crumble in my hands. The tendons and muscles in his neck tightening twisting.

Struggling.

But it wasn't enough.

It's never enough.

The strength of Sariel Thrawn was too great.


But I confess, it wasn't always this way.

I confess that once I was a kind-hearted man. Who loved his brother.

I confess that there was a time when I was innocent and guiltless.

I confess that the man I was would despise the animal I have become.


This is my confession.
This is my life.