It was dark and quiet in the girl's room, the cool breath of night air whispering in through an open window. Outside she could feel the grass, wet, gathering dew, and reaching towards the sky, anticipation of the returning sun spreading through an interwoven network of roots like a nervous system. A cricket sang, the brook danced, and a mouse died in the grip of predatory talons. The whole of the natural world buzzed in her mind with a bright illumination, the Force moving through it and her as one.
Balling up the blankets in her hands the ten year old pressed the cloth against her mouth in an attempt to stifle the crying. Tears slid in somber tracks from her eyes, heartache and fear causing her mind to so wildly reach out to the world beyond herself. Kiku mourned. She mourned a family and home she could scarcely remember, she mourned her pain, her fear, she mourned how utterly alone she felt, and she mourned how helpless she was before one stronger and more brutal than could be imagined.
The first footfall escaped her notice entirely, dismissed as the typical murmuring and gossip of grass and ferns, the second was more obvious, and then she felt it, the predictable, smooth rhythm spreading across the meadow in waves of someone walking towards her quarters. This had been what she was waiting for, what she had reached out with her mind to anticipate. A cold flush of adrenaline wetted the young girl's veins as her heart began to pound thunderously in her chest. Biting the blankets Kiku fought the urge to scream.
Like ripples over the surface of a lake the person's strides drew closer and closer to her door, though in her panic she failed to realize that they were running now. An idea at first fiery and pure ignited within her brain, only to be snuffed out just as quickly by fear and uncertainty. She thought about it often, the saber kept so close but never dared to wield. He'd hurt her if she tried, he was going to hurt her anyway, but Kiku didn't want to find out what he would do if she attacked him. Still the tool rotated slightly where it rested on her nightstand, thought of it's use so desperate the Force responded in part.
Deafened by her own heartbeat, and every muscle taught Kiku wanted nothing more than to die before Master Skywalker, a man who had promised to protect her, and had done everything but reached her. Throat tight, head pounding the child prayed for death, doing everything she could to muffle her crying even as her airway closed with anxiety. Everything seemed to stop, time standing still when the door opened. Kiku couldn't even breathe.
She retreated into herself tried to push it all away, tried to imagine herself anywhere but there, in that bed, when a hand found her shoulder, turning her roughly to face it's owner. A yelp ripped from her mouth as she scrambled for the wall, but the hand held her firm.
Eyelids fluttering Kiku looked and found not Luke Skywalker, but rather his nephew, Ben Solo, his face gently illuminated by moonlight, the same fear and sadness reflecting in his gaze as he blinked back hard fought tears. There were no words between them, there wasn't a need. With his lips tight pressed together the boy gave a sharp nod taking Kiku by the wrist and pulling her from the bed which had moments ago felt so confining. The two were sprinting out of the room, when the girl pulled, her saber finding her palm where it fit comfortably.
Out over the meadow, dozens of concerned children were pouring out of their private quarters and into the pitch if evening. That was when Kiku saw it, the walls concave, dense rubble and debris all that remained of the little hut that had served as Ben's room. Kiku hesitated staring longer than she needed to, as already some were trying to unearth their mentor. It was as they tarried there near the training pitch the temple behind them made ghostly in the starlight that Roth found them, cutting off their escape green light flaring to life, and illuminating his fine boned features as the boy's saber was drawn.
"What have you done?" Roth asked, his tone measured and even, like a true Jedi Knight. At sixteen Roth was one of the eldest at the academy, a tall youth, with sandy hair and intelligent blue eyes he made an intimidating force for the pair to stand against. Dreadful anticipation of what was about to unfold caused the hairs at the nape of each child's neck to rise.
"You don't understand!" Ben said sizing up the opposition as others came to stand with Roth, their expressions hard, body language guarded. Instinctively Ben moved the girl to stand behind him, catching her off balance as he did.
"He was your uncle." Roth gritted between his teeth, displays of gold and blue igniting to his right and left, as Beldin, and Nebi took up arms. The three of them, like so many of the Padawans knew no other home, no other family than the ones they'd built here. Seeing both destroyed in an instant had devastating consequences for their collective psyches.
"He was hurting us." Ben explained, as sides were being taken, and a group of children came racing out of the hanger to join him. Kiku watched as the young Solo tried to wave them away, intent on seeing this through without violence.
Roth, having never known his teacher's other, darker nature smirked disbelievingly, his gaze hard as ill was spoken of his friend and father figure by the person who had only moments ago murdered him. "How?" he questioned coolly.
The children shuffled uncomfortably, tension in the air palpable, shame and embarrassment evident on the faces of those who had been preparing to flee the temple.
"You can't even defend your actions and yet you just killed your uncle, your mentor, our mentor!" Roth bellowed in anger, grass flattening out around the speaker in response.
"It wasn't like that!" Ben cried with desperation, motioning for everyone to stand down as those at his side produced their blades in response to the blatant show of power.
"Renegade." Roth spat unforgivingly as he lunged forward.
Like that the night was alive with light.
All friendships, all bonds, all shared hopes and dreams died in that instant as the children fell upon one another, their blades singing.
Kiku froze in stunned terror, her world tilting dangerously as all around her combatants clashed. Emotions quickly overtook the field, thick and blinding as early morning fog, the Force Sensitive prodigies affected by it just as strongly as if it were a physical entity of its own. Hours of training had not gone to waste each knowing the others weaknesses and strengths, playing them to their advantage. Though this was far from a game, no more was this apparent than when the first lightsaber cut effortlessly through the skull of a child.
Fear lanced through the Kiku, blazing up her spine like white fire, her arms pinwheeling as she fell prone. The initial shock of the attack and paralysis in the face of terror soon gave way to the deep primal beast that resided within every being, the stark need to preserve one's own self consuming the girl as the first sharp cries of the dying resonated within her ears. Screaming and kicking out against the malevolent figure which loomed above her all thought fell away from mind leaving only automated action and reaction, Kiku was a marionette moved solely by the unseen strings of survival.
Everything was struggle against her the attackers as she fought. Holding out her hand she felt an invisible wall conjured first in her mind then reality, shoving her arm outward she used this wall to send an enemy whirling through the air. Staggering to her feet the girl found her side suddenly electrified with pain only able block or parry, as the assault went on her offensive broken, and defense failing, she darted forward perilously, before thrusting out with her saber.
Battle rage consuming her she looked up with hatred and scorn into the eyes of the foe whom the violet of her blade had run utterly through. Recognition, and a cold dread washed over Kiku as she looked into the face of a friend. Mara, who, not much older than Kiku herself, opened her mouth to gasp dumbly for air like a fish on a hook before collapsing, the intense heat of the weapon severing her torso as she slid down it.
Tears in her eyes Kiku moved away from the body, horrified by what she done. Suddenly seeing the battle for the first time without the veil of mortal fear the cacophony was deafening as the cold withdrawal of souls leaving their bodies consumed her conscious mind. All around her was a nightmarish hellscape of mangled bodies and the painful cries of friends as they cut one another down.
When at last all was still they looked on as the heavens loosed upon them, the survivors staring in horror at what they had done.
"Let's go." Ben asserted after a moment, his voice hollow before clearing his throat to restate the command. "Lets go!" he shouted tossing the severed hilt of his blade to the ground before leading the way into the hanger and aboard a small ship. The vessel wasn't well armed, but it had speed, and that was of utmost importance for the time being. Making his way to the helm Ben looked to be re-familiarizing himself with the controls, as the others filed in carrying their wounded.
Dizzy with a stark trepidation Kiku stumbled over her feet before sinking to the floor, pulling her clothes away to assess the ragged wound in her side. It was deep but cauterized, flesh black and odorous, the pain numbed only by shock.
The shuttle rose effortlessly off the ground, plumes of dirt and moisture stirring through the air, as the exhausts thrust the ship forward. Inside the passengers could scarcely breathe as they streaked across the sky, moving upward ever upward until a terrible quaking overtook them, the walls shuddering and engines roaring. With a strong hand on the throttle Ben shoved it forward and they broke free of the planet's atmosphere. Rushing to the observation windows many watching as they pulled away from the green orb that appeared so serene and blissful surrounded by the black.
Most were numb looking with a dream like haze at their surroundings as if only half believing what meet their gaze, while some like Rhyla released their pent emotions in the form of tears, in the back someone vomited, filling the air with a sour, acidic reek.
Zotam a Togryua wailed in anguish from where he lay forgotten on the floor. Screaming he clung to what remained of his left leg. It was this desperate sound that moved the children out of their dark self made prisons and to action, guilt and loss put aside as they scrambled to help in any way possible. Cabinetry was destroyed, containers over turned, a dozen hands looking for something anything to ease his distress.
"How much to I give him?" Rhyla asked, the Twi'lek's inexperienced hands trembling as she held the needle and glass vial tenuously to the light.
"Enough to make him stop!" came the panicked reply from Malik who had gripped her sleeve, adding to the stressful situation as the motion caused her to veer off target.
Hands held Zotam securely until, with a quarter syringe full of the clear liquid Rhyla began slowly administering the drug. When the crying subsided, and a blank vacant expression glossed over the boy's eyes she stopped. Moving to the counter as he slipped into unconsciousness the young woman used a scalpel to score a notch into the syringe, indicating dosage. When she had finished the unofficiated nurse moved towards the bay doors where Gymma had been lain.
Leaning down to give her the medication Rhyla stopped, a little scream of sadness and alarm escaping her. Gymma was cold and motionless, her fingers sickeningly intertwined with the entrails she had so desperately been trying to keep inside her. A pair of hands took the Twi'lek by the shoulders and steered her away from the gruesome sight, while another, having located a sheet covered the dead girl.
In the wake of this loss the trauma surrounding them could finally be experienced in full. Memories of training side by side, encouraging one another to reach higher and dig deeper than anyone thought possible echoing throughout the ship. Memories of games played in the long grass, or the shelter of the shade tree forest mingled with adventures, and mishaps, swimming in the lake when they were meant to be meditating, or lending an ear when someone was troubled. These were then people they had just slain, the people who had died fighting beside them, friends, family killed to preserve their own lives.
The immense wailing was unbearable as from the cockpit Ben could hear the crying. Lashing out with rage as tears fell from his eyes the fourteen year old thrashed about in his chair, slamming his head against the rest, before punching the console repeatedly until the knuckles of his hand were bloody, swollen and distended. Still, the pain of broken bones did little to compare to the searing anguish of his soul.
They had done it, they were free, but at what cost?