Hi everyone,

These are the first few chapters of a standalone Star Wars novel I'm working on that I'm not sure if I should progress with. Looking for feedback more than anything to determine if I should continue, or re-work and re-start.

I have about 10k written already, and the rest of the book plotted out, but I honestly haven't touched it in about a year. I really appreciate your help.

xx

- K.A.M

Prologue (needs a date)

Deep in the heart of the Temple, Artemes dreamed. Her dreams were always troubled, but such was the nature of the power that dwelled within her. It was difficult to know if she was seeing the past or the future, but the ferocity of the dreams was always the same. Outside, the winds of Korriban's wastes raged around the walls of the Temple stronghold, blasting the interlocking stones with an unrelenting barrage of sand and debris.

Artemes was left to her meditations while the activity of the Temple buzzed in the halls high above her chamber. The Sith Lords kept her comfortably housed, attended at all times by a hovering acolyte who recorded all of her dreams for study by the most powerful of the Sith Lords. It had been forty years since her last dream of prophecy, and the Sith Lords were growing impatient.

And so, Artemes dreamed, endlessly it seemed. The acolyte deepened her sleep with small doses of Paluruvu and meditated nearby, lending his own manipulation of the Force to her dreams. The Sith Lords had come to believe that with the assistance of the acolyte, Artemes' dreams would change, and her prophecies would begin to flow again. Prophecies that they could then hasten into reality.

The newest acolyte was a Quarren. One of the traveling Sith Lords had found him in an abandoned temple on Geddes. The resonance of his powers had called the Dark Lord to his hiding place, and though he could not speak, the Quarren's strength in the dark side thundered as loudly as the crashing waves of his watery homeworld. Artemes stirred in her dream, muttering something in a language the acolyte could not understand. He watched her carefully, recording her reactions to the dream and reached out with the Force to encourage the grip of the dream, strengthening its hold over her.

Every time Artemes dreamed, he recorded her mutterings as if it were the seeds of the next great prophecy. She had dreamt much of the past of late, and of her own barren homeworld. The events, tragedies and faces that she described were all familiar to him. As the acolyte pushed his dark energies towards her sleeping form, he envisioned that the dark side enveloped her like a black wave, lapping at her heels and then breaking over her still body. As if in response, Artemes' body shuddered and a gasp escaped her tattooed lips. Perhaps this time.

He concentrated harder and focused on Artemes' breathing, reaching out with the Force. Artemes writhed under the touch of his powers, her mutterings becoming small cries of fear and snatches of conversation. She was speaking Huttese; short staccato phrases that burst from her throat as the ancient one gasped for breath.

Growing in power

Unseen for millennia

True form doubles as the cries of one echoes

Reflected through a mirror

The walls of the great Temple will fall…

The acolyte wrote furiously, it had been years since Artemes had spoken anything more than a name tugged from history while under the spell of her dreams. His hands shook as he wrote the final words… 'The great Temple will fall.'

A shuddering gasp made him look towards Artemes, she was no longer lying prone on her bed. The ancient woman floated upright above the pallet, her long white tresses fanned out around her ancient face and her robes swirled around her as if she was under water. Artemes' black tattooed lips moved soundlessly and her pale red eyes were fixed on the acolyte. Though her blind eyes saw nothing, he could feel the strength of the dark side coiled within her. Lightning crackled at the tips of Artemes' outstretched fingers as she levitated, borne aloft by the Force.

The acolyte's stylus flew across the page describing every detail of the scene before him. Blood red tears coursed down Artemes' tattooed cheeks as her breath rasped between her parted lips.

"Find the mirror. Find the mirror and break it. Break the mirror before it breaks us."

_ 100 Years later _

Chapter 1

Lya Cardan hated her mother. If her father had been alive, he would never have permitted the arrangement of this ridiculous marriage. Zan Arroyo, her husband to be was a smug excuse for a rancor shit, and Lya hated him more than anyone else she had ever met. His relentless pursuit of her father's business and trade contacts were the cause of many late nights and heated arguments, and Lya had her suspicions that he was the one responsible what had transpired on the day of his death. Zan had been with her father as they had toured the family azurite mines on Bandomeer.

They were very close to finally agreeing on a new partnership contract promised to pull the Cardan family name out of relative obscurity and turn her father's dreams of expansion into a reality. He had often told Lya of his plans for expanding their freighting fleet to include luxury transport ships to cater to Senators and other Republic dignitaries on their important assignments throughout the systems. He was convinced that his alliance with the Zan and his powerful family would help make this possible.

The mine shaft collapse that had taken her father's life had also killed twenty miners and the overseer, a longtime employee and family friend that Lya considered a second father. Her charming fiancé, however, had escaped miraculously unharmed – with only a few minor injuries that kept him bedridden for several days. Days that he had used to convince Lya's mother to agree to the hasty engagement.

Lya was still in mourning when her mother had brought the news of her impending nuptials. Two weeks had passed since that day, and Lya hadn't spoken more than six words to her mother. She didn't bother to hide her feelings of rage and betrayal and she felt no remorse for the insults she hurled at the door of her room when her mother did try to approach. In return, Lya's mother had ordered the servants to keep her confined to her chambers.

Regardless of how Lya felt about the situation she suddenly found herself in, the preparations for the wedding swirled on around her. A servant mistakenly delivered a dress sewn with hundreds of silvery black Naboo night pearls to Lya's room. The next morning the dress was found in a heap outside her door, the precious pearls strewn over the floor. Lya had relished the destruction of the dress, but her mother had gotten the hint and no other items arrived at her chambers after that.

The wedding day drew closer and closer, and Lya bided her time, planning her escape. One of her mothers' servants, banished to laundry duties after burning her mistress' face with an accidental slip of the curling tongs, gladly accepted Lya's bribes and happily stole the items that she requested.

Lya's brother, Antar, fancied himself a bit of a rogue, and he dressed like a Corellian thug at every opportunity. Lya had already filled a bag with clothing he would never miss, but she was still waiting for the delivery of her final request. Her brother's most prized purchase was a dark brown rancor skin jacket. The hide was beautiful and criss-crossed with deep scars. The creature that had worn it in life had survived many battles, and Lya wanted it as a symbol of her own survival.

The day of the wedding dawned clear and cold, and Lya could see deeply purpled clouds gathering in the distance. If she had been excited about the wedding (or a complete idiot) she would have taken the impending rainstorm as a good omen for a happy marriage – but the smile that spread across her face was due to the fact that the entire household would be preoccupied with re-locating her luxurious garden wedding and transforming it into an indoor spectacle instead.

A soft knock at her door made Lya spin around. Two more quick let her know that it was the servant at her door with a delivery. Lya's heart leapt. Finally, the jacket. She pulled the door open quickly and let the woman in. The Mirialan handed Lya a heavy package with a conspiratorial wink.

"I had to peel it off of him, Lya. He was drinking emerald wine last night and fell asleep still wearing it." The woman's voice was hushed, but Lya saw laughter behind her eyes. "Your brother is a bit of a…" Lya rolled her eyes.

"Don't say it. If he ever finds out that someone called him a rogue he'll be even more insufferable than he is now." She shrugged into the heavy coat and buckled it snugly around her hips. The cut of the jacket hid her curves well and gave the illusion of broader shoulders beneath it. She was already dressed in a coarse shirt, and a Corellian blood stripe ran down the outside of her pant legs. The servant appraised her with a critical eye.

"You wear those clothes better than your brother." Lya smiled. The Mirialan lifted a finger to her tattooed chin, "But what about your hair? Lya's hand lifted slowly to the black braid that trailed over her shoulder.

"Cut it off. Cut it all off." The other woman smiled and held out her hand. Lya dropped credits into her upturned palm and sat on the edge of her bed. Scissors, produced from a secret pocket flashed in the early morning light and Lya's dark tresses fell to the floor around her. When the snip of the scissors finally ceased, Lya ran a hand over her scalp. Years of painstaking hair growth, gone in an instant. Her mother would be bereft. Lya smiled broadly; now she looked the part.

The red light of the sunrise was beginning to creep across her chamber floor; it was time to go. Lya slipped a few more credits into the other woman's hand and squeezed her fingers. The woman went to the chamber door and peered down the long, silent hallway. Seeing no one, she beckoned to Lya, whispering "Hurry" as the young woman hefted her pack.

Without a backward glance, Lya ran down the corridor, her footsteps muffled by the soft leather of her boots. She ran past the kitchens, stopping to retrieve a parcel that had been hidden there by her Mirialan accomplice. Lya was confident that she had paid the woman well enough to ensure her silence, and hoped that she would have the good sense to leave the household and seek new employment elsewhere before she was discovered. Lya picked up speed as she burst through a door that led to the gardens. She avoided the courtyard where the bridal pavilion had been erected and headed for the private docking bay.

Antar had been given a brand new Sienar Fleet Systems transport for his eighteenth birthday, and he loved this little ship more than anything. It was fast and sleek and she could see that he had outfitted it with some non-regulation weaponry. Lya had heard him bragging to his friends about how easy it was for him to visit the upscale Pleasure Houses on Rakata Prime and still be back in enough time that no one had noticed his absence. Unfortunately for Antar, talk like that left him wide open for the easy jokes about his sexual prowess; but to Lya, it told her that he had upgraded the hyperdrive and the navicomputer.

Perfect.

Lya punched the lock code into the keypad at the door of the ship. The code had been easy to guess, but that was mostly because her brother was a laser brained moron. She slid into the cockpit and entered one of her father's old shipping codes into the security system. The bay doors opened slowly, and Lya could see the first droplets of the approaching storm spattering against the durasteel floor of the docking bay. She entered her destination coordinates into the navicomputer and the ship roared to life. If nothing else, her brother could be counted on to keep his precious "Star Hammer" in hyperspace ready condition.

The thought of the tantrum Antar would throw when he realized that his beloved jacket was missing was delicious enough, but the added insult of taking his ship was hilarious, and derisive laughter bubbled up and filled the cockpit as she guided the ship through the bay doors and out into the wet, heavy sky.

Raindrops peppered the windscreen as she pushed for more speed. On impulse, she banked sharply and flew low over the family villa. With a whoop of victory, Lya punched the accelerator and the ship rocketed through the clouds.