Chapter One
Her earliest memory as a child was an ocean of flame. She supposed it was fitting for her last memory to be the same. Smoke burned inside her lungs, and the flames danced around her, rippling and teasing across creaking wooden shelves that were filled to the brim with books, never to be read again.
Despite having been made by her own hands, the fire was unlike anything she'd ever seen before. Instead of oranges and reds, brilliant blue flame consumed everything in the house, even the things that she hadn't expected to be able to burn, like the metal frame of her father's bed while he slept.
Stars, she hadn't imagined that this power could destroy anything she wanted on a whim, all because of a few measly chemicals she had combined in a bottle. And to think, the instructions for this homemade weapon had been in her possession for twelve years, hidden only by the leather bounds of her mother's old journals. It was a miracle that her eyes were the only ones to see such a thing.
Searing pain tore through her forearm, and a startled cry escaped Adhira's lips. She gasped and yanked her arm away from the reach of the fire. The girl scrambled to work faster, rummaging through a rusty toolbox. She snatched a screwdriver and jumped over a pile of burning books to reach the window, which she hastily pried open with the tool. Finally, she shoved it the rest of the way open with her elbow and jumped headfirst, desperate to get out of the flames.
Adhira landed in a crumpled mess on the grass outside her home and crawled forward on her hands and knees. Although she grew up with the fear of fire, the irrational phobia appeared extremely justifiable in her mind. The girl ran a hand over her legs and arms, as if checking to make sure all of her limbs were still there. Suddenly, the ground gave a quake and she snapped alert.
It was only then that she noticed the explosions.
No. No, heavens no, not right now, not like this. A horrified, gut wrenching cry escaped her mouth and she took off running towards the edge of the village. Her bare feet slapped over every sharp rock, every prickly sticker, but regardless, terror drove her forward. She had no idea why there was an Empire raid the exact same night as the night she chose to burn down her childhood home, only minutes after ensuring the death of her last remaining kin, yet there she was, sprinting through the village, listening to the ground-shaking explosions and the screams of the innocent.
"Adhira!" Yana screamed, and the girl waved frantically at the woman who burst out of her hut. The mother was balancing her toddler on one hip and holding the hand of her second youngest child with her free hand. Yana's two other children held hands, their small faces etched in fear. Adhira rushed forward and grabbed the two children on the end, two twin boys, five years of age.
"We have to get out of here." Adhira's voice was weak; it felt like a whisper; Yana responded by tugging her into the woods behind the small hut. Together, they ran for safety and ducked behind a particularly large tree when another explosion went off too close for comfort. Adhira wrapped her arms around the kids, more for her comfort than theirs. Her eyes squeezed shut as she gripped their shoulders; it wasn't until she realized that they were sobbing that she forced her eyes open once more. "Don't look at the fire, sweethearts. Look here, look at me," she urged, capturing the eyes of the two frightened boys. "That's it, look at me." She turned them so she was kneeling at their level, and maneuvered the boys so they were facing the forest instead of the flames.
A scream sounded through the air, and Adhira gripped their shoulders tighter. "No, no, no, sweethearts don't look over there. Keep looking at me," she clenched her jaw as she watched behind them. A dark figure had caught up to them and shoved Yana on the forest floor - heaven knows what the figure had done to her children. "Now I want you to run as fast as you can into the woods and don't look back, okay? Promise me you won't look back," her voice started reassuring but dropped into a low hiss as she saw another dark figure appear at the edge of the woods.
Hastily, they agreed, and Adhira shoved the two boys away from the burning village. She rose to her feet, studying the two dark figures. She could only hope that the boys would last long enough in the wilderness for a Resistance ship to rescue them.
She slowly rose to her feet, heart clenching as she saw Yana on the ground with a gun pointed at her by the figure in black. Her mind screamed to help her friend, the woman who helped raise her, but her muscles froze, and it was all she could do to not crumble back on the ground.
The second figure drew closer and she realized with a jolt that he was coming for her. A figure in a black mask, but he had broad shoulders and the heavy gait of a nobleman, born and bred by the empire.
As fear froze her the moment before, Adhira was suddenly paralyzed. Her limbs froze at her sides and her feet lifted off the dirt path. An invisible force pulled her forward at a frightening speed, and suddenly she was face to face with the two figures in black, with Yana abandoned behind her.
It was that moment in which the man noticed the dark chemical burn on her forearm and his eyes widened with realization. Without mercy, he dug his gloved fingers painfully into the blackened flesh, squeezing blood out of her injured arm. Adhira screamed, a hateful, injured scream that came from the pit of her gut as pain warped her consciousness into a cold sense of emptiness that she didn't recognize within herself.
She expected to fear death, yet the dread never came. All she wanted was an end to the pain. "Idiot girl!" he snarled, grabbing her hair and yanking ruthlessly. "What did you do? Tell me what you did!"
Primal instinct took over where shock stunted her reaction, and suddenly she was snarling and fighting like an animal, clawing at his hands as the man grabbed her arms and shoved her to the ground. "You started the fire, didn't you?" His eyes glowered in the flames; Adhira had never seen a man so enraged before. She gripped her injured arm, hunched over like a wounded creature, watching the two men with guarded eyes.
"Ren, if you will," the unmasked man growled.
"Sarjaanans' minds are hardly the same as humans," the masked man growled.
"So? Would you prefer we kill her now before we get answers?"
"Quiet, fool," he snapped. "Take her back to the ship, we will not find the answers we need here. We can't afford to linger."
Adhira looked back and forth between the two, contemplating making a mad dash for her life, but quickly dismissed the idea; it would get her killed instantly. If they wanted answers, she would string them along until she could find an escape.
"As for the village, let it burn." Adhira's eyes widened at the calm ordinance.
"No, please, wait," she begged frantically, but it didn't matter because not a moment later, her world went black.
xXx
Unsurprisingly, the girl dreamt of fire. This time however, it was not one created by her own hands. Her earliest memory as a child was being in her parents' library and watching her father's workshop burn, absorbed by the straunge blue flame. She could still remember how her mother had kissed her on the forehead and tucked her into bed that night, warning her not to wander the house if she woke up. She should have listened to her. Alas, Adhira as a child disregarded the warning and followed the curious trail of smoke out of her bedroom right to its source.
With each passing day, Adhira never forgot the image of her mother slumped over the kitchen table, her green eyes as empty as the bottle of poison in her hand.
She hadn't realized it until she was much, much older, but her mother had intended to kill her that night. It had been a weak, half-hearted intention, which was why it failed, but the core simplicity of it remained.
Adhira was supposed to die that night.
In twelve years, little had changed, disregarding the absence of her mother. Adhira lived in the same small house packed with books, with the same sympathetic neighbors. Her father's life of constant work remained the same, creating new weapons for the Empire.
It wasn't until she was sixteen years of age when she finally understood her mother's legacy. It took another four until she mustered the strength to do what was necessary.
xXx
Adhira did not stir until a door mechanically slid open and heavy footsteps thudded on the polished tile floor. It was one of the men who had taken her on Yavin Four, the one who normally wore a mask.
"Wake up, girl. My name is Ren," he said. "And my job is to kill you."
Adhira surprised herself as much as him when she didn't respond. No sharp intake of breath, no elevated heartbeat betrayed by the medical equipment that invaded her body and her bloodstream. Her head tiredly leaned back against the metal headrest and her blank eyes appeared lifeless as she watched the man pace the short length of the room.
"You're the lucky one," he continued, and Adhira nearly scoffed. If her boys hadn't survived, then she was the last survivor of her race, alone in the universe and at the mercy of whoever was holding her; she sure didn't feel like the lucky one. "As I'm sure you understand by now, my master wants answers from you before I kill you." She didn't respond. "How did you create the blue fire?"
"It was a mistake," her voice cracked from dehydration, but the immediate irritation portrayed by her captor indicated a brief success.
"Do not toy with me. Do you understand what Aristarkhos was creating? Is that why you would murder him in the night and burn down his life's work? You are his kin, are you not?" he persisted.
"What do you speak of?" she replied in fake confusion, gradually regaining confidence.
The glass to her right suddenly shattered into pieces and she flinched as the shards grazed her body. "I have not the patience for your lack of cooperation. It was no coincidence that your father's life work burned the same night my troops were sent to retrieve his contract. How did you know to burn everything down?"
Adhira's heart seized; it was lucky that she had acted when she did, and not a minute later. She had no idea that they would attempt to retrieve her father's weapon that night, but there was no way that the man in front of her would believe that.
"My father was an abusive weasel; I had every reason to burn down his life's work," she replied coldly. It wasn't a lie.
"This can be as easy or as difficult as you like," he warned lowly. "It matters not how much you fight; I can comb through every strand of your memory if that's what it takes," he hissed.
The girl shook her head. "So what? Someone like you doesn't have the skills needed to make my father's weapon. What good would my mental blueprint do you?"
"I will find someone who can make the weapon," he snapped.
"Oh, of course, someone who understands Sarjanaan technology, like the village of innocent people you just wiped out," she spat venomously.
"You overestimate my patience, girl," he growled. The girl's head exploded with pain as he assaulted her mental barriers. She couldn't help the whimper that escaped her as he shattered what little defense she had, and began filing through her thoughts and memories.
His abrasive search was met with a vivid jumble of thoughts running along the surface of her mind, unconfined and untampered. Panic swept over her consciousness in response to his foreign presence in her mind, which only made her thoughts run faster, scattering whenever Ren reached out. He growled and pressed harder against her mind, but managed only to grasp at tendrils of thought that slipped away before he could see them.
"Do you know what the downfall of your people was? Do you know why they failed?" he asked, leaning closer to the girl as he abruptly drew away from her mind. She jutted her chin up, tugging aimlessly at her restraints as a tear rolled down her cheek. A brief flash of her family arose in the back of her mind, and Ren tugged at it, drawing the memory to the forefront of her thoughts. The girl gasped in pain; whether physical or emotional, she wasn't sure anymore. The memory of her mother's arms around her as a child was a brief artificial comfort, and was effortlessly shattered by the brute force of Ren's mind.
"Do you know why you are the last of your kind to survive?" he hissed and she squeezed her eyes shut, letting out a whimper. "They were weak. They couldn't choose a side, so we killed them. It was inevitable, really."
Burning hot anger flooded her senses, and Ren smirked; she had no doubt that he could feel her rage, but she couldn't bring herself to care. "Inevitable? You slaughtered them!" she snarled. "They were innocent! You killed every family, every parent and child. Yana Grenevia never touched relations with the rebels or the empire, and your men murdered all four of her children while she watched." Her fingertips shook, and the burning desire to wrap her fingers around his throat overwhelmed her. Oh, the hell she would put him through if she wasn't held back by these damn restraints.
Ren's dark eyes burned into her, but she refused to avert her gaze. "Good girl," he murmured, a wistful smirk twisted his features as he tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear, and she thrashed in response to his touch. "Good girl," he repeated. "Go ahead. Hate me. Curse me. Do whatever it takes to make that pretty little mind of yours turn."
"You'll never get what you want from me," she said forcefully as he rose to leave the room.
"We'll see," he replied as he swept out of the room, dark cape billowing behind him.
As soon as the locks clicked into place and she was alone in her cell, she began to sob.