Prologue

All there is, is red. Screaming and clashing, the tang of ozone filling the enclosed area. We had started our battle in the massive Entrance Hall, darting and dashing amongst the mighty pillars that lined the walls. Now we dance around to tighter quarters, where I lose my advantage. But my bloodlust is peaking and the red glow of three lightsabres is starting to wash out my vision. They – that is, none of them – think I would dare. My body trembles and my nerves twinge. It's nearly impossible to tell, until of course, you're writhing and screaming in pain.

The threshold, a metre or so in length and barely enough headroom to pass through, fills with Force Lightning. I unleash, feeling it rebound and sting and sear my own skin. But the screams of my enemy are more delicious than the scorching heat needling and burning my body. A roar of agony is silenced by my firmly pressed lips. I can smell cooked meat. A coughing, struggling heap is at my feet.

I am still Sith enough to sneer.

"Weak," I mutter, my skin blackening in spots along my arms, my lashes singed. My lips crack with speech and blood seeps down my chin. I plunge the tip of my right sabre through the downed Sith's throat. Movement is agony. I stride forward with confidence, feeding off the pain, walking over the dead. The pain covers my body; it tingles. It curves up and down my spine and drives my muscles to contract, deigning to curl me up into a tight little ball.

Even as a child I knew better.

I embrace the pain, opening up to it, in what I now realise is self-righteousness. I can suffer this much and survive. I am strong.

And now I have new quarry. I had better make this quick, because my left arm is still smouldering. With an imperceptible movement of my head and a controlled inhalation, the Force bursts before the three Apprentices across the throne room. They slam into the drab, dark grey wall. One decorates it pink and red with a smashed skull. The other two are still alive. They scramble up onto their feet and lunge forward. The snap-hiss of sabres re-igniting delights me. The air around them crackles with pent up energy. One knows what he is in for; he runs away.

I let him. If anyone survives this, he will be the first executed. If no one survives this, he'll be the only smart one.

The other reacts automatically, lifting his purple sabre to catch the lightening that will surely come. I taste the Force around him, feeling it rush to me and back. He is wary of the warning, and he is right to be. But I'm past trickery and games, I simply want this over with. The overly paranoid Sith brain would have been a boon in any other situation.

I am anything but a normal Sith situation.

Still walking, eyes locked ahead, I hold my left sabre locked behind my back. One push and he could bisect me on my own weapon. Apparently he isn't in the mood to attack. I'd grin, but my mouth has been brutalised enough. Rather, I hope that my eyes convey my amusement and delight. The cold, hard fact that he will die, and I will enjoy it; immensely. He moves a step back, sabre now outstretched, just waiting.

I would often use the behind-the-back sabre show to intimidate or test a situation. If he isn't willing to take the opportunity, then there are reasons why. He takes another step back and I disengage my left sabre, a slight chill tickling the back of my neck. My sabres are up and to the left, ignited and striking against purple before my brain realises what happened. The veiled, cowled face of an Apprentice stares up at me. I know she is; I can feel those piercing eyes, I know it in the Force. She wants to fight me, but she doesn't want me dead. She's too conflicted and confused to make a decision on the events transpiring, but she wants to protect her friend.

How touching. I kick her in the stomach and snap a kick at the side of her head. Thankfully I catch her and she goes down. A brief second of debate and she isn't worth the time. What will killing her grant me anyway? Another corpse to my name?

I brush past the boy, who doesn't even bother with me now. I think he's in shock. I suppose I would be too, if I had been a witness to the day's fighting and massacre. Apparently the Sith do this every so often, though not for the reasons I am.

Usually we slaughter each other for the top position.

I'm doing it so I can get out.