Aphelion
"The capacity for good or evil, like the Force itself, is in all living creatures. And belonging to the Jedi Order, or the Sith, or any group won't change what you are at your core."
The village was completely outmanned. The battle prowess of its inhabitants paled in comparison to the strength and training of the Stormtroopers, the common folk's weapons serving little purpose when they were so easily outmaneuvered. When the first of them were rounded up, the barrels of blaster guns jabbed insistently against their backs, the others were quick to follow suit in surrendering.
They forfeited in droves, but their cooperation would make little difference in the end. They would be killed all the same, they knew.
Some resisted still, but it was futile. Chaos unfurled and smoke plumed towards the night sky, the smell of fire and ashes hanging heavy in the air as the flametroopers laid waste to the market place and the primitive tents used for housing. The turmoil was only hushed by the loud hiss of a shuttle approaching, heralding the arrival of an even more sinister figure than the squadrons of Stormtroopers that currently assailed the village.
Amid a rush of smoke and floodlights, Kylo Ren emerged. Tall, dark, and imposing of stature, the man advanced towards Lor San Tekka without a beat of hesitation, footfall heavy and poised against the sand. He stopped just short of the elderly figure, the latter beholding him and resigning himself to his doom.
He knew just as well as the others— perhaps even more so— that retreat would serve no purpose here. He knew who this figure was, had come to know the face that lay beneath the metal apparatus of that mask, and knew that death awaited him at the hands of this Dark Lord.
"You've grown old," Kylo intoned casually. Tekka did not waver.
"Something far worse has happened to you, I'm afraid." The counter could have very well warranted some sort of reaction from Kylo, but no one could see it beneath that mask. Even the helmet's vocoder, a device designed to emanate something akin to the fearsome timbre Darth Vader's voice had once possessed, sounded utterly indifferent. It rumbled deeply, and his next words came out as a hiss by default.
"You know what I've come for," the taller figure stressed, already showing signs of losing patience. He paced a few steps away from the restrained elder, his hands clasped behind his back. He looked nothing short of a prowling beast, ready to strike at a moment's notice, and yet the way he was so poised about it was unnerving.
This was a predator. A killer.
Tekka would have done well to keep his eyes on the man, but something else appeared to snag his attention. Movement stirred within the shuttle, and then a bright light so vibrant it was nearly blinding washed over the sands, tinging them silver.
Something akin to a humanoid figure emerged from the confines of the ship, slowly and gracefully, gliding on the wind. She was weightless, an ethereal being with no solid form— she was comprised entirely of energy, and her approach was the silent kind. She swept to the former Jedi's side, her radiance flooding the entire village and striking all those who beheld her with a sense of childlike awe.
An angel. There was certainly no room left for questioning what she was, but what was an angel doing in such dark company?
Most everyone knew the rumors; the legends. The Diathim were a race of alien species that few encountered in their lifetime. And, if they were so lucky as to catch sight of these elusive creatures, then it wasn't for long. They were infinitely curious things, and often tended to swarm ships passing through their system. It wasn't their intention to overwhelm the pilots and crew members, but it was often a consequence of having natural hypnotic abilities.
They were said to be so beautiful they could make even the most hardened deep space pirates cry like babies (quite the humorous notion if you stopped to think about it), and indeed, Lor San Tekka could feel his lips part as moisture collected in his eyes when the winged figure drew her keen irises towards him.
Amidst a sea of silver light, he could distinguish two doe-like eyes blink back at him, so blue in color that the sky seemed suddenly grayer in comparison.
To think that he could witness such a sight before his demise…
Then the creature's light dimmed, whether it be a natural process or simply at her behest, and suddenly, human like features presented themselves. To a certain extent, that is.
Her flesh still thrived with a soft light, but she wasn't garish to look upon now. She was small; petite and slight of frame with long and slender limbs— yet for all the graceful length of her legs and arms, she was but half the size of the Sith Lord she now stood idle by, barely reaching above the halfway point of his chest.
Two wings spread from the alabaster flesh of her back, and a face peeked out from behind pristine white feathers then, tresses of dark auburn tumbled down in pools to the creature's thighs. Kylo Ren turned to face her, and whilst the cold visage of his mask gave away nothing, the way in which he stood straighter spoke volumes of his regard for her.
They tucked their heads together, speaking quietly for the briefest of moments. He seemed to be scolding her over something, for she offered him a mildly apologetic look, batting her lashes sympathetically. He gestured vaguely towards the shuttle, but she would not return to it. Seemingly deciding that the debate was of no further importance (or that he would get nowhere with it), Ren pivoted on his heel and redirected his attention back to his captive.
Tekka took this as his chance to voice his curiosity.
"And what are you doing with a creature like that in your possession?" The old man had half the mind to plead the angel's assistance, ask that she beseech this man for mercy, for she seemed to be in his good graces if the way he interacted with her was of any indication.
"I hardly believe that is any of your concern. Now then, the map to Skywalker. Where is it?" He seemed almost irritated to be asked such a question, but acknowledged the inquiry all the same, if only to gloss over it. He did not owe anyone an explanation; especially not one pertaining to the presence of the Diathim— the likes of which had been instructed to stay on the ship.
Anthea Faelar always had been a handful.
San Tekka was back to beholding the softly glowing presence. She offered him a small, ginger smile that rang of a benevolent nature disproportionate to the callousness of her company, and he addressed her openly now.
"You do not belong with them." It was both an observation and an obvious statement, the remark made in a matter-of-fact tone and more to himself than any other. The angel regarded him with a curious tilt of her head, while Kylo stirred. His body snapped attention and his hand gravitated towards his lightsaber, a nerve clearly having been struck. He growled, the sound feral and barely human as he stalked towards his prey.
"Careful," he cautioned darkly, inches from the man's face now,"The map to Skywalker. Where is it?"
"You must already know that I will not to tell you."
"Then you have sealed the fate of these people. Would you have them all killed over such a simple exchange?" He swept his arm out slowly towards the herded villagers, all of which clung to one another or cowered in fear. Again, Tekka remained unwavering. Truly, his determination was something to behold.
"You may try and strike fear into them, to show them the darkness that has consumed you, but even you cannot deny the truth that is your heritage," he spoke with unyielding defiance, his tone level. The casual air in which he addressed Kylo finally provoked him, his patience having reached its end.
"You're so right."
He loomed before the man now like a storm cloud, a sound akin to a beast's furious hiss reverberating beneath the metal mask. His fingers clutched at his lightsaber, the weapon igniting and blazing a vibrant red beneath the night. In one sweeping motion, he brought his wrath down upon Lor San Tekka, ripping him open from shoulder to knee.
The villagers gaped in horror as his figure collapsed, a fresh corpse amongst the sand. His open wound stained the ground carmine, and the Diathim, having made a move to intercept the Knight of Ren's wrath but falling just short of success, paused. She regarded the fallen figure with an air of remorse, one Kylo must have sensed, for he spoke clearly to her in her mind with the use of the Force:
"He brought it upon himself."
The angel's cerulean irises ticked to him, and she allowed herself a thought that she knew he would hear.
"He had nothing to give you in the first place." She was displeased by the slaughter, he knew this, and yet he would not apologize. It was the way of war, and he could not afford to appear merciful in the eyes of Resistance sympathizers. Kindness, compassion, clemency— these were traits of the Light Side, not the Dark.
He was about to express such a thing to the vibrant creature when he suddenly sensed an abrupt disturbance in the Force. Swinging his palm out towards the unseen threat, a blaster's plasma projectile halted in midair, vibrating violently in place. His mask swiveled towards the source of the assault, locating the Resistance pilot and promptly restraining him in place long enough for a pair of Stormtroopers to disarm and capture him.
When the man was drug before him and knocked to his feet, Kylo regarded him impassively. His clothes screamed Resistance pilot, and the Dark Lord nearly sneered behind his mask.
"Search him."
The pair of troopers gave the pilot a none too gentle pat down and used some small device to scan him from head to toe before confirming that he was carrying nothing of interest. Masking his disappointment, Ren merely gestured towards his shuttle and gave the order to have him detained. He would keep the rebellious man as a prisoner for now; store him away for later questioning. Depending on his rank and importance, he could knew a great deal on the Resistance, and quite possibly the map, as well.
He doubted it was a coincidence someone from the Resistance was here in this inconsequential village at the same time the First Order was. Why else would someone of his allegiance travel here, if not to search for the very same thing Kylo himself sought?
When the prisoner was shuffled onto the ship, a soldier in polished chromium armor approached the knight.
"Sir, the villagers. What are your orders?" She inquired, her voice slightly distorted from her heavy helmet.
Kylo Ren turned to regard the small settlement and its frightened inhabitants, his lips twisting slightly beneath his mask. This had proved to be a fairly fruitless venture, and he detested having his time wasted.
"Kill them all. Leave no area of the village unsearched when you are through. I want troopers sifting through the ashes if that's what it takes. You know what to look for." He turned his back to them then, only to be met with a quiet light. She stood much closer than before, intent on dissuading him from his callous methods. Her persistent efforts might have previously warranted a tinge of admiration from him to some degree, but now that his time had been thoroughly wasted here, he had little patience to debate morality with her.
And yet, for some reason, he humored her all the same.
"Kylo," her voice was soft when she spoke; smooth like silk. She wasn't keen on seeing the civilians befall the same fate as Lor San Tekka had, and she was much swifter in her interception this time around. "Surely such a display is not needed? They fear the First Order well enough now."
Kylo shook his head as Captain Phasma readied her squadrons. The villagers recoiled in fear, a cry of alarm raising from a handful of them as they stared down the weapons' barrels.
"It matters little who or what they fear now. The Order does not release prisoners once it has taken them. Return to the shuttle now, Lady Anthea." It was less of a request and more of a demand, but she didn't budge.
"The women and children, then?" She pressed, testing the lines of his withered patience.
"No." He drew closer to her, his voice lower, "They will all perish. This is the way of war."
"By whose definition?" She challenged gingerly, utterly unafraid of the potential backlash of her opposition, "Is it standard procedure to drag innocents into these matters? These people pose no threat to you."
"They stood in direct opposition to the First Order and harbored a Resistance sympathizer. They will face the consequences," he argued as he stared into the Diathim's imploring eyes. She blinked at him, her roseate lips pulling into the slightest frown.
"These people are harmless. You know this to be true." Ever the persistent one, Anthea was not one to back down so easily.
He loathed when she did this— asked such impossible things of him. She knew full and well that he could not spare these people without appearing lenient. There was no middle ground to be had here. He knew what he must do, had resolved to give the order to fire, and yet this little light that stood before him gave him pause.
Why?
Was it for fear of warranting her disappointment? He shouldn't have cared either way, but he was a man of his emotions. He was ruled by them, as his master had encouraged him to be. He was susceptible to them, and thus to her. She stirred things in him he thought long forgotten and suppressed, but so too did he awaken things in her that she never knew she possessed.
He closed in on her, crowding all too close to her. His neck craned downwards, and he spoke to her in a tone to be likened to gravel:
"Need I remind you of the damage a seemingly harmless individual can inflict?"
She flinched at that, and fell silent. He took no pleasure in reminding her of that incident, but he was not above doing so if she left him devoid of other options as she had done now.
When her silence endured and she steeled herself for what was to come, Kylo Ren turned to face Captain Phasma, pausing only for the briefest of moments before he gave a nod of consent. She turned forward then and lifted her own blaster rifle.
"Fire."
The screams of the innocents filled the night air, discordant and chilling. The Stormtroopers fired without a sliver of remorse, for that was what they had been trained to do. And yet, and yet—
One resisted. One refused to open fire on those who did not deserve this death sentence, and both Kylo and Anthea regarded this individual, albeit in varying manners.
The First Order figurehead dwelled on him for only a second before moving on, sweeping onwards towards his shuttle. The Diathim lingered, her blue eyes seeming to burn past the visor of the trooper's helmet. He stiffened beneath her stare, however gentle it may or may not have been. His weapon lowered when the howls of the dying seized, and for a long moment, the two regarded one another in differing levels of curiosity.
But then a voice came to her in her mind, and the angel pivoted her head in the direction the knight had retreated. Turning on her bare feet, her gossamer white gown fluttering and swaying with her movements and the frigid desert winds, she fled to the confines of the ship, leaving the trooper to his own devices.
But she remembered his given designation so that she might speak with this man, FN-2187, at a later date.
For now, she was certain that Kylo would wish to speak with her about her defiance. It was a conversation she could not put off, so she didn't bother to. She met his awaiting figure, and together the two strode down the halls of the shuttle as it lifted from Jakku's surface. They were dark and light in this moment; good and evil.
And yet somehow, they coexisted on the same side.
[A/N: Hey, guys! Thanks for stopping by to read my story! Let me know what you think of it, and if you enjoyed it! I'm a bit nervous about posting this since I'm a little shy about my Star Wars writing, so depending on the kind of response I get, I'll plan out future chapters. I would also like to note that I was extremely hesitant to use a Diathim character, but honestly, it's going to take nothing short of an actual angel to drag this boy back to the Light Side. Also, I should probably note that since the Diathim aren't expanded on too terribly much in the Star Wars universe, I'm going to be filling in the blanks myself. At any rate, thanks again for reading, and I hope you enjoy this work! Feel free to join me on my Star Wars tumblr blog if that's something you'd like to do: my URL is skywalkalonelyroad, so hit me up there if you'd like to discuss Kylo Ren and his trash self.]