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─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.───

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.───

When he was young, Ambrose was once told by his mother many years ago that every story had a beginning, a middle, and an end. He never thought he'd have one to tell, let alone believe he'd live long enough to give an account of it. Yet, even if it were into the pages of a book that currently lay open with a blank page staring back at him on his lap as he gazed out across the wastelands of Tatooine, the two suns are beginning to set a pen poised in between his worn, aged fingers.

He tries to remember the young man he used to be all those years ago, back to where his journey began on this rock of a planet. Of course, it would be painful to recount the story of all the loss, pain, and heartache. But he'd leave it to Luke or Leia, even though he was watching over the boy he called his nephew. They'd probably never know of him or meet him.

So, with a slight smile on his lips, gazing out the ever-setting orange sky, he began to write:

To my dear niece and nephew or whoever may ever read this, the story I'm about to tell you isn't for the faint of heart. It's about two brothers who wanted to follow their dreams, and it all started in a galaxy far, far away...