Darklight: Prologue part 2

Author: Asheraa

Rating: T (this chapter only) Full fic ranges T to M+

Fandom: SWTOR

Characters: Force sensitive Twi'lek boy, others.

Words: 1261

Warnings: Mentions of possible mild trigger situations in this chapter. And of course the pseudo-swearing of the Star Wars universe.

Disclaimer: I own nothing but my unique characters, all else is owned by Bioware and whoever owns Star Wars now. I make no money from this labour of love.

The boy froze. He pulled the shadows tighter around himself and tried to ignore the sinking sensation in his gut. He had made a terrible mistake. He should not have come. This was a stupid idea. It wasn't worth it.

But he had no choice. Where else was he going to get the creds to buy medicine his brother so desperately needed? His mother certainly couldn't get the money. She was no longer perpetually in a stim induced haze, but that was small comfort. The money she made on her back was all spent to keep her latest boyfriend happy these days. At least before all they had to worry about was his mother beating on them. Her latest boyfriend had a frightening fondness for choking the boys into unconsciousness if they did anything to piss him off. The young thief wondered what he and his brother could possibly have done in their former lives that was so shitfully terrible. What could a kid have done to deserve having to care for his brother and his mother, and her expansive string of 'squeezes' by breaking into the homes of skirts and slugs and what passed for nobility on this shit-hole of a planet.

He took a deep breath to calm himself. He needed a clear head. He didn't even know where he was supposed to fence this crap any more. No one was rich enough to afford the stuff he lifted unless they were someone he had already stolen from. Every time he did this it got harder to break in, harder to get out unseen, harder to move the stuff once he got clear. How in the stars could a fourteen year old feel this burned out?

Grinding his teeth, the boy pulled his mind back to the present, listening for movement in the smothering near total darkness of the mansion. He was sure he wasn't alone, but still he heard nothing. Keeping his head and body rigid he let his eyes move around, taking in the way the flames leaped around in the overly ostentatious brazier in the middle of the room, the curtains at the open window, the shadows along the walls. His eyes and ears told him there was nothing there, but he was sure his senses lied. He had learned long ago to trust his instincts, especially where skirts were involved.

He stayed like that, crouched in the shadows of a large room in a Sith estate for what seemed like an eternity. Long enough that his arms stopped burning and started to go numb, and his legs had long ago lost their pins and needles from being in one position so long.

He needed to move. The threat he felt at that moment may be intangible, but the Sith was due home from his engagement at any moment. If he was caught here when the Lord and his entourage got home the fear would most definitely not be intangible. He had seen what the skirts and their friends liked to do to for kicks, and just thinking about it started a bead of sweat rolling down the young Twi'lek's back.

Gathering his courage, he took a couple of tentative steps towards the open window. He was so close now that a good solid leap would carry him through to the outside world. It was a bit of a drop into a particularly filthy part of the river, but it would be freedom from this fragged up place.

He had just lifted his foot off the ground to take another step towards the window when a shot of pure unadulterated dread washed over him. He knew that if he was any other race his hair would be standing on end. Goosebumps rose abruptly all over his body despite the warmth of the room and his proximity to the fire. Another bead of sweat slithered down his spine and he tried to suppress the shiver it caused.

Somewhere in the rational part of his mind he wondered what was causing this reaction. He had rolled Sith houses before, and while he did it as little as possible, it was certainly nothing new to him.

He closed his eyes and breathed deep, silently groaning in frustration. He was being such a pussy. He was standing less than a meter from freedom but he was frozen in fear. He felt like one of those poor bastards that were dragged before the Hutts, then given a pardon for their non existent 'crimes'. The ones that were inevitably dropped into the pit after falling all over themselves in thanks for the slug's 'mercy'. He felt like the universe was silently pissing itself laughing at his expense.

Another shot of terror lurched though him and he bit his lip, barely managing to maintain control of his bladder.

"You're being a druk head" he murmured to himself, "The window is right there... now... move!" Squeezing his eyes closed again he willed his bare feet to move across the last few polished tiles to the open window.

He lifted his foot again preparing to bolt, and just as he shifted his weight he felt it. Actually felt it, like a living oily thing crawling across his skin. The wave of raw power that rolled across the room. He bit down on his knuckle to stifle a scream. The sound was so close to the tip of his tongue that he wasn't sure how he contained it.

Reaching deep inside he pulled the shadows even tighter around himself. If he could just... stay... quiet... as long as the light didn't touch him he would be alright. No one could see him in the shadows. No one ever saw him in the shadows.

A bubble of hysterical laughter almost forced it's way out of his throat as a sliver of electricity arched from one blue knuckle to the next then dissipated. His breathing was so shallow and fast that he started to feel dizzy. He swallowed, and the sound of the saliva going down his dry throat was like a missile exploding.

It's not real, he chanted to himself, it's not real it's not real it's not real...

Trembling, he took a baby step towards the window, and another and another. Just a few centimetres to go and he would be able to get out the window. He wished his legs were still working well enough to jump. He would be lucky if he could make himself move enough to climb over the low window ledge he was shaking so badly.

He looked at the minute space between him and freedom. A sliver of light ran in through the window and across the floor just in front of his toes. He was so close, but the moment the light touched him he would be visible to whatever horror was toying with him. It was waiting and it would get him if he moved into the light, because that split second of exposure was an eternity when you were running from a Sith.

Another wave of electricity crawled up his legs, and over his body. He bit down harder on his knuckle. It felt like thousands of tiny fingers were running all over him, feeling him, sinking into him. His jaw clenched compulsively on the knuckle that was still between his teeth, breaking the skin.

ZAP!

The electricity that was crawling over him arched to the blood in his mouth, and he let out a silent sobbing scream. In that minute sliver of time, he forgot to be still. His hand shot from his mouth and crossed into the light.

Inhale...

Exhale...

A drop of blood splashing on tile...

A blinding flash and his world was swept away in a vortex of agony and purple lightning.