Into the Light of Darkness

The Beginnings of Dray'ven Darklight

Chapter I

I am 6 years old today…

Dray'ven sat alone, resting his chin on his knees, hugging his legs while his back pressed against the curved cold damp stone. Slaves walked by lines of two; those coming in and those going out for the short reprieve of stale moldy rations and contaminated water. A single dim light at the mouth of this particular tunnel seemed as bright as a sun when illuminating such a black space. For every 30 or so slaves Dray'ven would catch sight of the handful of slavers that accompanied them, keeping the slaves in line and on schedule. The slavers who didn't even bother collecting the corpse off the ground that lay at Dray'ven's feet. Dray'ven pulled himself in tighter, clenched every muscle he had and slowed his breathing. He closed his eyes while the slavers passed him by –

You can't see me… I'm just a shadow.

He thinks to himself – no, not think. He believes it. He is a shadow and nobody can see him, not unless he wants them to. At first Dray'ven wonders if it's just his imagination. Something that he's convinced himself to be true in order to cope with the fear of being found and forced to work in the mines. But now he knows it is more than a fantasy.

It's been days now that he's sat here in this very spot, unnoticed and as still as the stone that surrounded him. Days without sleep, without food and water. Sooner or later he knows that he will have to come to terms with his new reality…

I am 6 years old today… and I'm all alone.

Dray'ven's body begins to force on him the fact that he is hungry and his mind finally recalls a memory for what feels like the first time in his life… his last meal. What was it? He thinks hard trying to recall, pulling at that memory like it were a heavy weight tied to a long rope. Slowly bringing the thought it closer to the forefront of his mind until he finally catches a glimpse of what's on the end. That's right! It was Bread and

"What's that?!" Dray'ven asks with a stare that is equal parts perplexity and caution.

"That, birthday boy, is Blue Milk!" Ventra says with probably the proudest smile she has ever donned, Dray'ven thinks.

"And… what's that?" Dray'ven demands, not completely satisfied with his mother's overly simplistic answer that lacked very valuable details in his mind.

"It's good for you and impossible to come by. Come on, try it, you'll love it – I promise."

Dray'ven takes a cautious sip of this weird liquid. He knows that his mother would never lie to him, but this is completely new ground. He never considered food or drink other than what he had been raised on so far.

He lets the liquid swoosh around in his mouth first before swallowing. It's weird, not bad weird but definitely different. It's thicker, sweeter – MUCH sweeter (he likes this change). Something else surprises him as the flavor sets in. It tastes… familiar. Ventra must have recognized the look on his face when this realization hit him.

"I used to give this to you every day back on Tatooine, it was your favorite. I mean, it was all we had since water was impossible to come by there. You still don't remember?"

"Mom, I was a baby then. I'm almost six now. Plus what good does it do me to remember something like that?" Dray'ven says with pride – he is one step closer to being a man now, after all.

Dray'ven wants to gulp down the Blue Milk as fast as he can drink it. But it is so delicious and he knows to savor every drop. He could feel how happy his mother was to have been able to obtain this for him, watching him enjoy his birthday present, and he didn't want to rush the experience as much for her as for him (if not more-so).

Dray'ven was barely sipping the bottom of the Plasteel cup when he could feel a tingle run up his spine. He had had moments of fear before something bad was about to happen before. Usually a cave in, Detonite explosives, drunk slavers looking for something to pummel or worse. But this time it was different, it was more than fear – it was panic. Dray'ven could feel his palms begin to sweat, his breathing turned shallow and rapid, stars began to flash before his eyes –

Poison?!

His mind begins rushing with questions faster than he could possibly answer them;

Was it the bread? - The Blue Milk!? - Where did mom get this? - Who gave it to her?

Dray'ven looked up.

"Mom?"

He expected to see the same fear in her eyes. The need for a mother to protect her child, to protect him.

"Mom, where are you?" he whispers, tears now beginning to well in his eyes.

Dray'ven glances to his left, then to his right. He's straining to see into the darkness of the mines - desperately looking for his mother. She is nowhere to be found. Dray'ven knows where he has to look, but he doesn't want to –he shouldn't have to.

His breathing has slowed, his knees give way and his body goes with it. He slumps into himself so fast that his chin bounces off his knee cap. A metallic taste begins to fill his mouth, I must have bit my cheek, he thinks. But Dray'ven doesn't feel any pain – in fact he feels nothing. The panic is gone, is heart beat has slowed to a crawl and his skin feels as dry as a desert stone.

Dray'ven sits there, alone, resting his chin on his knees. He slowly wraps his arms around his legs pulling his heels in as close as he could. His back molds perfectly against the cold wet surface rock behind him. Dray'ven stares ahead blankly. He never looked down. He didn't have to.

Ventra is staring back at him. Pupils wide with her eyes barely open, as if freezing mid-blink. Her mouth is only slightly agape with a trail of blood seeping from the corner of her lip. Her body lying on its side. Her right arm seems to rest comfortably in front of her while her left looks uncomfortably locked behind her – as if a slaver was manipulating the joint to force her where she didn't want to go. Her legs seems as much separated from her body as they were attached, useless and weighted like the legs of crippled slaves Dray'ven had seen in the past.

Dray'ven sat there and stared ahead watching slaves and slavers alike pass him by. They were blurs on his periphery while he waited. Seconds turn to minutes. Minutes to hours and finally days… Until that special day comes, a day that he refused to have without his mother with him.

I am 6 years old today. He thinks and glances up, away from his mother for the first time in as long as he can remember now. You can't see me… I'm just a shadow he thinks to the slaver who, at first, started looking his way. He averts his eyes and now stares straight ahead pushing the slaves forward. I am 6 years old today… and I'm all alone. His stomach growls…

Dray'ven stands up losing sight of his mother. Staring straight ahead into the cold empty black void of the mines. He begins to walk down the long corridor. Deep into the bowels of Kessel. Nobody notices him as he glides through the lines of slaves and slavers. Suddenly he takes a sharp left turn. He does not know why he is going this way, his mother always warned him against this passage. Stories of slavers and slaves disappearing without a trace, of monsters born of slaves' worst nightmares. Stories that once terrified him; but not anymore. He passes a sign with a skull and crossbones and red writing that his mother told him was called Basic. He comes into a hastily constructed barrier Dray'ven easily slips through with his thin-small frame. For a moment he pauses on the opposite side of the barrier. He stands still and thinks for a second turn back, run back to his mother and hold her. Hug her until he falls asleep and never wakes up. He lifts his right foot and steps…

Forward… I never looked down. I'll never look back. I must move Forward. I'm hungry, and I need to find something to eat…