Genre Fiction
![Emma Mieko Candon - [object Object] author](https://res.cloudinary.com/readsomnia/image/upload/authors/a_a_emma_mieko_candon.jpg)
Star Wars Visions: Ronin: A Visions Novel (Inspired by The Duel)
NATIONAL BESTSELLER • A mysterious former Sith wanders the galaxy in this stunning Star Wars tale, an original novel inspired by the world of The Duel from the Star Wars Visions animated anthology.
The Jedi are the most loyal servants of the Empire.
Two decades ago, Jedi clans clashed in service to feuding lords. Sickened by this endless cycle, a sect of Jedi rebelled, seeking to control their own destiny and claim power in service of no master. They called themselves Sith.
The Sith rebellion failed, succumbing to infighting and betrayal, and the once rival lords unified to create an Empire . . . but even an Empire at peace is not free from violence.
Far on the edge of the Outer Rim, one former Sith wanders, accompanied only by a faithful droid and the ghost of a less civilized age. He carries a lightsaber, but claims lineage to no Jedi clan, and pledges allegiance to no lord. Little is known about him, including his name, for he never speaks of his past, nor his regrets. His history is as guarded as the red blade of destruction he carries sheathed at his side.
As the galaxy's perpetual cycle of violence continues to interrupt his self-imposed exile, and he is forced to duel an enigmatic bandit claiming the title of Sith, it becomes clear that no amount of wandering will ever let him outpace the specters of his former life.
The Jedi are the most loyal servants of the Empire.
Two decades ago, Jedi clans clashed in service to feuding lords. Sickened by this endless cycle, a sect of Jedi rebelled, seeking to control their own destiny and claim power in service of no master. They called themselves Sith.
The Sith rebellion failed, succumbing to infighting and betrayal, and the once rival lords unified to create an Empire . . . but even an Empire at peace is not free from violence.
Far on the edge of the Outer Rim, one former Sith wanders, accompanied only by a faithful droid and the ghost of a less civilized age. He carries a lightsaber, but claims lineage to no Jedi clan, and pledges allegiance to no lord. Little is known about him, including his name, for he never speaks of his past, nor his regrets. His history is as guarded as the red blade of destruction he carries sheathed at his side.
As the galaxy's perpetual cycle of violence continues to interrupt his self-imposed exile, and he is forced to duel an enigmatic bandit claiming the title of Sith, it becomes clear that no amount of wandering will ever let him outpace the specters of his former life.
Readers Top Reviews
Victoria ClaryDavid
I read this in under 24 hours because I was so engrossed in every paragraph; I've been a huge rabid SW fan since I was 7 years old so I have Star Wars Opinions and in my opinion this book rules.
Kaler
When I watched Star Wars visions I really loved the duel, I’ve been wanting to learn more about the Ronin and since I got this novel I can now read more about the Ronin’s tales and I love it
InTTruder
I liked the depth of personalities made available, and their complicated relationship with themselves and the worlds through which they moved. There are some interesting homages to the arc of Star Wars. These set a place and time that is more interesting given the outcomes suggested by the story. You’ll find comforting familiar references, and discomfiting characters who are not good or bad, strong or weak, You’ll find compelling human stories (even of the aliens). And the occasional trope is still respectful, such as (spoiler alert) stealing a starship. In the end, characters might just triumph over themselves. Or not. Read it and enjoy.
KJThe Rogue Rebels
This book has way too many appositive phrases. For example, “[t]he woodcutter, who thought he had been spoken to, nodded sagely.” Or “[t]he following morning, he stretched the cold out of his limbs as he rose and ate half a ration-stick from his pouch, the last remaining.” In my opinion, having that phrase in the middle of the sentence, attempting to describe the noun in the very beginning, breaks the flow of the entire sentence. I understand that appositive phrases are sometimes necessary (I even used one in the previous sentence) in writing, but this book goes overboard with the appositive phrases. I’m sure this is a stylistic writing choice of the author, but it makes the book really hard to read. To be completely honest, this book reads more like prose/poetry than it does a novel. I suggest reading the chapter one exert in the “Product Description” before buying this book. If you don’t like the writing style in the product description, you will not enjoy the writing in this book. Also, as another reviewer noted, the author refers to non-binary and unknown gender beings as “they.” As a disclaimer, I’m fine with the pronoun “they” as a descriptor. In fact, I also use “they” when referring to a person that has not identified their gender. However, the author does a poor job at solidifying who “they” is referring to. There were times where the author would refer to someone as “they” and I had no idea who “they” was. Imo this is poor writing. I shouldn’t have to guess which character a pronoun is referring to. It should be obvious within the meaning of the context clues provided in the sentence/paragraph. Overall I would not recommend this book because I don’t particularly care for the authors writing style
Alex Ziegler
The Canon novels have been boring for some time. This being set in its own world based on the short from Visions means it can do something we have not seen before. The most exciting book in the star wars universe in a long time.
Short Excerpt Teaser
CHAPTER ONE
Two months after the Ronin arrived on the Outer Rim world of Genbara, he ran out of credits. This concerned him less than it did B5-56, who took every opportunity to scold.
"Look at it this way," he told his trundling companion. "No need to worry about where we'll sleep."
A man with no coin had no reason to pace his trek in terms of outposts and inns. He could pay for no bed. Thus, he could wander to his heart's content, and the woodland vistas of Genbara did reward the wandering. Vast stretches of pine were interrupted only by patches of farmland, claimed by settlers rebuilding their lives far from the scars war had left on worlds nearer the galaxy's Core.
The Ronin slept that night under a small lean-to that a local woodcutter had told him of the day before, when he passed the old man's hut on his way into the mountains.
"The mountains, sir? Are you sure?" the woodcutter had said as he sucked his teeth. They sat on the veranda of the man's hut and shared a pot of stale tea. It had been the last in the Ronin's tin, but he offered it freely in exchange for hot water and company. "You'll want to follow this road up, past the ridge. It will take you to a village in the valley. If it's still there."
An ominous thing to say. To the Ronin, it suggested he was on the right course. B5 saw the look in his eye. The droid's own eye flashed from red to blue under his thatched hat as he murmured a warning.
The woodcutter, who had no facility with Binary, mistook the dome-headed astromech's sound for nervousness. He grinned. "There were four villages up there, little droid, when I first built my humble hut. Then there were three, then two-now just the one. Word is they angered a spirit. A spirit that doesn't take kindly to settlers."
Yet he thinks the spirits don't mind him? said a voice in the Ronin's ear.
"Mountains are different," the Ronin said.
The woodcutter, who thought he had been spoken to, nodded sagely. B5 swiveled a baleful eye to fix on the Ronin in what was likely supposed to be a glare. The Ronin pretended not to notice it, but he did remind himself to be careful. On occasion, when in the company of others, his responses to the voice were dismissed. On other occasions, they were not, and this could go quite badly. If the village in the mountains still stood, he would be among new people soon, and they sounded like a superstitious lot.
The following morning, he stretched the cold out of his limbs as he rose and ate half a ration-stick from his pouch, the last remaining. The chewing was slow going, with the ache; he rubbed at the line of old metal that supported his jaw from ear to ear.
B5 grumbled at him all the while, calling him old and simple besides. Surely, the droid said, his master remembered that he had the means to acquire enough credits to fund his fool journey until it killed him-or at least enough to purchase a more up-to-date prosthetic. Yet he hoarded his bounty to the point that some shamefully mundane evil would doubtless get him first. Perhaps the chill, or infection, or worse.
"You know I would be more foolish to try to sell one of these," said the Ronin, patting the treasures hidden in the folds of his robes. "Where would I say I got it?"
Then what do you plan to do with your winnings, other than collect them? the voice asked, rather bitterly at that.
He couldn't give her an answer. Not one she could stand.
Moved by a reflexive guilt, he glanced at the inner lining of the long hooded vest he wore as a cloak. The robe had weighed the same for at least a year now, when he had last added to the collection within. The crystals sewn into the seam glinted as if in greeting, letting off red flickers that illuminated his fingers, elated by the promise of his attention. They wanted him to touch them, to take them and give them use.
He let the robe fall closed, crystals untouched. Here was his reason, even if she didn't care for it: So long as he carried them, they could bring no further harm.
Outside of what harm you commit, she said.
"If you wish me dead," he said as he stepped out onto the needle-strewn path between the pines, "you have only to point the way."
Go on to your little village, then.
Experience told him that she would provide no further advice. After all, she would doubtless prefer that whatever he met in the village be the end of him rather than the other way around.
The chill of the night bled into spring as the sun rose. The Ronin stopped on the ridge overlooking the last village left in the mountains, B5-56 at his side. In the distance, at the far end of a pine-ridden valley, the swooping lines of a crashed ship gleamed whit...
Two months after the Ronin arrived on the Outer Rim world of Genbara, he ran out of credits. This concerned him less than it did B5-56, who took every opportunity to scold.
"Look at it this way," he told his trundling companion. "No need to worry about where we'll sleep."
A man with no coin had no reason to pace his trek in terms of outposts and inns. He could pay for no bed. Thus, he could wander to his heart's content, and the woodland vistas of Genbara did reward the wandering. Vast stretches of pine were interrupted only by patches of farmland, claimed by settlers rebuilding their lives far from the scars war had left on worlds nearer the galaxy's Core.
The Ronin slept that night under a small lean-to that a local woodcutter had told him of the day before, when he passed the old man's hut on his way into the mountains.
"The mountains, sir? Are you sure?" the woodcutter had said as he sucked his teeth. They sat on the veranda of the man's hut and shared a pot of stale tea. It had been the last in the Ronin's tin, but he offered it freely in exchange for hot water and company. "You'll want to follow this road up, past the ridge. It will take you to a village in the valley. If it's still there."
An ominous thing to say. To the Ronin, it suggested he was on the right course. B5 saw the look in his eye. The droid's own eye flashed from red to blue under his thatched hat as he murmured a warning.
The woodcutter, who had no facility with Binary, mistook the dome-headed astromech's sound for nervousness. He grinned. "There were four villages up there, little droid, when I first built my humble hut. Then there were three, then two-now just the one. Word is they angered a spirit. A spirit that doesn't take kindly to settlers."
Yet he thinks the spirits don't mind him? said a voice in the Ronin's ear.
"Mountains are different," the Ronin said.
The woodcutter, who thought he had been spoken to, nodded sagely. B5 swiveled a baleful eye to fix on the Ronin in what was likely supposed to be a glare. The Ronin pretended not to notice it, but he did remind himself to be careful. On occasion, when in the company of others, his responses to the voice were dismissed. On other occasions, they were not, and this could go quite badly. If the village in the mountains still stood, he would be among new people soon, and they sounded like a superstitious lot.
The following morning, he stretched the cold out of his limbs as he rose and ate half a ration-stick from his pouch, the last remaining. The chewing was slow going, with the ache; he rubbed at the line of old metal that supported his jaw from ear to ear.
B5 grumbled at him all the while, calling him old and simple besides. Surely, the droid said, his master remembered that he had the means to acquire enough credits to fund his fool journey until it killed him-or at least enough to purchase a more up-to-date prosthetic. Yet he hoarded his bounty to the point that some shamefully mundane evil would doubtless get him first. Perhaps the chill, or infection, or worse.
"You know I would be more foolish to try to sell one of these," said the Ronin, patting the treasures hidden in the folds of his robes. "Where would I say I got it?"
Then what do you plan to do with your winnings, other than collect them? the voice asked, rather bitterly at that.
He couldn't give her an answer. Not one she could stand.
Moved by a reflexive guilt, he glanced at the inner lining of the long hooded vest he wore as a cloak. The robe had weighed the same for at least a year now, when he had last added to the collection within. The crystals sewn into the seam glinted as if in greeting, letting off red flickers that illuminated his fingers, elated by the promise of his attention. They wanted him to touch them, to take them and give them use.
He let the robe fall closed, crystals untouched. Here was his reason, even if she didn't care for it: So long as he carried them, they could bring no further harm.
Outside of what harm you commit, she said.
"If you wish me dead," he said as he stepped out onto the needle-strewn path between the pines, "you have only to point the way."
Go on to your little village, then.
Experience told him that she would provide no further advice. After all, she would doubtless prefer that whatever he met in the village be the end of him rather than the other way around.
The chill of the night bled into spring as the sun rose. The Ronin stopped on the ridge overlooking the last village left in the mountains, B5-56 at his side. In the distance, at the far end of a pine-ridden valley, the swooping lines of a crashed ship gleamed whit...
