Author's Note: Yes, it's really, really true - I've updated! There aren't enough apologies for the long wait between updates, so I throw myself on the mercy of the readers (if I still have any ;) ) and promise that the next chapter is 85 complete and will be up within two weeks of tonight even if I have to play hooky from work! We're in the home stretch - one more chapter after this (the one that's almost finished), and then the epilogue.

Many, many thanks to Buttercup for her awesome beta talents!!

Severing the Past

WendyNat

Chapter Twenty
-------------------

As they approached Gabris Prime, N'oenar felt a stronger sense of warning than before. It grew with each passing moment, and as he looked at the planet on the computer's navigation screen, he knew that the shroud would be needed. Soon. Danger grew in his mind, like a distant storm prickling the hairs on the back of his neck hours before the winds hit.

Leaving Zehrid alone on the bridge, he made his way to Ayliana's cabin. He had to convince her to use the shroud; he could feel the danger, even if she couldn't. Perhaps it was his link to the dark that allowed him to sense the foreboding, or perhaps she denied her own awareness so as not to be swayed in her stance. Either way, he needed to speak to her before they reached the planet. The real problem was how to broach the subject; she'd been adamant, when last they spoke of the shroud.

The door opened when he approached, and he realized that he must have let the shroud slip, allowing Ayliana to sense his approach. He had to get better at it, had to let it become second nature, even though the thought of the dark side becoming second nature frightened him.

"Hi," he said awkwardly, then cursed himself when she gave him an odd look.

"Zehrid's handling the bridge alone, I suppose," Ayliana said. "We should be there soon, right?"

"Not too much longer. Tomorrow morning. If we could land at night, we'd be there in a few hours."

"The electrical storms. Right." Ayliana gave him another odd look. He should have known she would sense his discomfort. "Did you need something, N'oenar?"

N'oenar decided to just jump into the subject. "Are you sure you won't learn, Ayliana? The shroud will be needed, I can feel it."

She smiled slightly and shook her head. "It is not for me."

Why couldn't she see? "Don't you feel it, Ayliana? The foreboding? You have to feel it – your senses have always been more acute than mine."

"I can feel something." Ayliana's smile slipped, then. "But I don't know whether it is something far away, or near… I can't tell."

"Distance means nothing to the Force. Distance, size, these are all constructs of the mind. The Force cares not for these things. It is everywhere and nowhere, at once."

Ayliana raised an eyebrow. "I remember the youngling lectures as well as you do, N'oenar."

"I know. I'm sorry." He sighed and rubbed his head. "I can't think, Ayliana. There's so much in my head, so much that's happened, it's all a jumble…."

She looked at him for a long moment, then said, "I was preparing to meditate when I felt you approach. You're welcome to join me, if you'd like."

Gratefully, he nodded. She knelt on the bed and motioned him to join her. "It's not a meditation chair, but it'll have to do."

"We've had to make do a lot these past months," N'oenar said with a wry smile as he knelt before her. "It's not a problem."

"Right. Well, let's try it the way we've been doing," she said, holding out her hands.

N'oenar reached for them, sighing when he felt her calm touch. She was a comfort to him – the only piece of home that he had left.

"Feel the Force. Feel it flow through me, through my voice, through-"

Which side? With a shock, he pulled his hands away. At her questioning stare, he stammered, "I… can't. I don't want to…."

The creases in her brow smoothed as she caught his meaning. "It's not a disease, N'oenar. I can't catch it from you." Then she chuckled. "Weren't you trying to get me to use the shroud, and the dark side, a few minutes ago?"

He laughed uneasily and nodded. "I'm sorry. It's silly, I just… never mind." Swallowing, he held his hands out again, and lost himself in her voice. After some time, he reached the plateau he'd strived for so often, floating on the tides of the Force, without care or worry. As he floated, another voice came to him through the fog, and he knew it was Master Dannew, though he didn't see him. "Courage is rightly considered the foremost of the virtues, for upon it, all others depend."

A deep satisfaction welled within N'oenar at the voice, and he continued to drift, allowing the Force to take his confusion away, at least for a time. Gray haze began to fade to black when he heard another voice, one that he didn't recognize. "Bend the rod while it is still hot."

His eyes sprang open, meeting Ayliana's confused ones. "What was that?" she asked. "I heard a voice… something happened."

N'oenar pulled his hands from her grasp, too frightened to ask her which voice she'd heard, and shook his head. "I…." With another shake of his head, he rose and left the cabin.

That evening, he welcomed the dreams.

N'oenar walked the corridor of the Jedi archives, pausing before the Jedi code for only a moment before passing into the library beyond. When he reached the Nubian statue, he stopped, and his fists clenched as he remembered Ayliana's words on Jabiim, after Kerenne had been killed.

Love, guarding darkness, he thought, then he froze as another thought hit him. Was the statue guarding the darkness, or acting as a gateway to it? A method of holding back the darkness, or a symbolic representation of how one could fall?

He heard footsteps behind him, and he turned to see Master Dannew approach. "Questions you have, questions without answers. Watch, and learn."

The familiar swirling tide took him then, and though he offered it no resistance he still was given no control over its destination. Finally, it stilled, and he found himself in an apartment, high above Coruscant.

Anakin Skywalker and a woman stood in front of a wide, sloping window. "Something's happening… I'm not the Jedi I should be. I want more, and I know I shouldn't."

"You expect too much of yourself."

"I have found a way to save you, Padmé."

Save her? Before N'oenar had a chance to contemplate the meaning, the image faded and he once again stood on a river of lava, the bright river flowing around him without injury. The man lying on the bank of the lava river was so different from the strong, confident man he had seen in the previous vision that it made N'oenar want to weep. Anakin Skywalker writhed, his figure blackened and charred, one hand mechanically pulling at the dark sand, trying to gain purchase. Obi-Wan Kenobi stood facing the river, and his former apprentice.

"You were the Chosen One! It was said that you would destroy the Sith, not join them. Bring balance to the Force, not leave it in Darkness!"

The answer came, soaked in pain, a fierce rage forcing words through heat-seared lungs. "I hate you!"

Obi-Wan looked down at his former apprentice, and the pain on his face hit N'oenar with more power than the anguished cries of the burning man. "You were my brother, Anakin. I loved you."

Mercifully, the scene shifted again, and now N'oenar found himself in the old archives of the Jedi Temple. Master Dannew sat at one of the study tables, bent over a text, one ancient page crackling as he slowly turned to the next.

"Master?"

Master Dannew did not raise his head. "Master Yoda foresaw much danger with Anakin's training. Perhaps he felt the warning in the Force."

"Anakin loved Padmé, Senator Amidala."

"Yes." Master Dannew sighed. "He saw her death, in dreams, and found a way to avoid his visions, or so he thought. The Emperor promised much, if Anakin blazed. And so he did, to save her, so desperate was he that she not join the Force."

"But... she was a great proponent of peace! She'd rather die that have all of this happen!" And she ended up dying anyway, N'oenar thought.

Master Dannew looked up, finally. "You see, don't you, Padawan? It was his need, his desire, not hers. A selfish need, though he did not see it as such. Emotions are often selfish in nature."

"Obi-Wan… he loved Anakin. Like a brother, he said. Why didn't… why didn't it affect him the same way?"

"He did not blaze. Selfishness and greed fuel the fires of the dark side, even more than pain or anger."

"Master Dannew…" N'oenar swallowed, his throat dry. "How was Master Windu able to master Vaapad, while others fell?"

"It is a seductive weapon," Master Dannew murmured, fingering the rough edge of the text. N'oenar wondered which it was, and whether it was one of the forbidden volumes. "Without knowledge to aid you, knowledge that Master Windu spent years gaining…." His Master's shoulders slumped.

"Master?"

"I did not have time, Padawan. I do not have time to lead you to the same knowledge, to teach you to straddle both sides of the Force, and so I send you to the dragonsnake's den, with nothing more than hints and dreams to guide you." Master Dannew spread out his hands, almost an entreaty. "It is a risk, but one that must be made."

"Why? Why must it be made?" N'oenar stepped forward. With one question asked, the dam was broken. "What is the next task? Why do you want me to maintain the shroud, but not Ayliana? Who are the birds? What's the silver cage?"

"Soon, Padawan. Soon it will be made clear."

"I need to know now!"

"When it is time, you will know. Keep your sights on the will of the Force, and-"

Rage drew up within him. "I don't care about the will of the Force!"

Master Dannew looked at him, then nodded slowly. "I understand."

N'oenar blinked, the rage dimming as quickly as it had risen. "Master, I didn't mean… No. No, you don't understand."

"What you said before was the voice of emotion. Focus, push emotion aside, and listen to my words; they are a reflection of your rational mind."

"My rational mind?"

"Your emotions stand opposed to what you know must be done. It is often so."

"That's why they're forbidden to the Jedi, isn't it?" You're not a Jedi.

"My Padawan, you remain." Master Dannew placed his hand over N'oenar's, and N'oenar could feel the braid pressing into his flesh, almost scorching. "Even now."

---

The landing maneuvers took far too long in N'oenar's estimation. He wondered whether it was his impatience to discover the source of the warning, or his desire to fast-forward past any activities that would remind him of their last visit to this planet, of Kerenne.

Old Scratchy came up to them, datapad in one hand and chin in the other. "Welcome to Gabris Prime. Got some warnings for you-"

"We know about the electrical storms," Zehrid said, and immediately the being shook its head, the loose skin around its chin flapping.

"Not just that. There've been some disappearing beings, of late. No tourists yet."

"Disappearing?" Ayliana stepped forward, her face safely hidden by the hood of her cloak. The shape was reminiscent of a traditional Jedi robe, but the color was anything but traditional. Deep purple with a glaring red lining, which Kylia had insisted set off Ayliana's features. If she could handle this change, why couldn't she at least consider learning of the shroud? N'oenar thought, though he knew it was irrational.

Old Scratchy waved a hand dismissively, the two thick fingers wiggling. "Don't worry too much, just slave traders. They've not got a tourist yet, like I said. Just stay out of the rural provinces, you'll be fine."

"Is anything being done to get-" Ayliana stopped speaking abruptly when Zehrid's foot made contact with her ankle. She shot him a frown, but didn't continue her question.

Zehrid grinned at the being. "We'll be careful." Old Scratchy just nodded and continued with his short speech, ending with the warning about the lightning storms despite Zehrid's earlier comment. They nodded politely and headed out of the spaceport, quickly procuring a speedercart pilot.

As the speedercart pulled away from the spaceport, Zehrid leaned toward Ayliana. "We're trying not to be remembered, Ayliana. Ask too many questions…"

She nodded sharply, but didn't answer. With a sigh, Zehrid looked over at N'oenar, one eyebrow lifted in question, but N'oenar just shrugged.

This time, the beauty of the planet wasn't able to penetrate N'oenar's dark thoughts. Silent, he watched the light sparkle off of red and blue crystals, obsessively counting each colored mound as the speedercart swept along the planet. He had reached thirteen red and eleven blue by the time they reached Grethid district.

When they made it through the crowds to Rohnid's Rarities, the sign indicated that it was closed. N'oenar reached out with his senses, and felt the presence of his friends within. "They're inside."

"I guess he's telling Rohnid the news," Zehrid said, his voice low. "We'd better let them know we're here."

N'oenar looked over at the button next to the door and hesitated, reluctant to signal their presence to the two men within.

"We can't stay out here," Ayliana whispered. With a nod, N'oenar took a deep breath and pressed the button. A moment later, the door slid open and they entered.

Sarn was already there, as they'd suspected. Rohnid's eyes were red, but it appeared that the initial shock was over. N'oenar thanked Sarn silently for having such a fast ship – he didn't think he would have been able to face Rohnid's grief.

After their initial greetings, Sarn slid behind the counter to look over the sales records from the past weeks, and the conversation moved to other subjects.

"What's the situation with the people disappearing?" Ayliana asked. "Zehrid kicked me before I could find out more, earlier."

"Slavers, from Rattatack, I think. Officially, slavery's outlawed on Gabris Prime. Unofficially…" Rohnid shook his head, his face troubled.

N'oenar frowned. "We saw one of their ships, when we left Gabris Prime." Kerenne had recognized it.

"There's money changing hands, lots of money. Rattatack pays its suppliers well. This sort of thing didn't happen when the Jedi negotiators were here." Rohnid stopped and rubbed his face, a suspicious brightness in his eyes giving evidence to his emotions. "Now, someone's trying to fund their politics with slave traders."

"Trying to gain favor with the king," Sarn murmured, glancing up from the financial ledger. His gaze drifted over them, landing on Ayliana, whose frown had grown with every word.

"But, won't the king protest?" she asked.

N'oenar shook his head. How could she be so naïve? The harsh feeling that the thought accompanied shocked him, and his teeth clicked shut, his ready answer evaporating. Distantly, he heard Sarn answer. "The king doesn't care. The provinces have always maneuvered for power and wealth, but the Jedi held violence, and outright moral depravity, at bay, for the most part."

"Not anymore," N'oenar murmured, remembering Keruck.

"Not anymore," Rohnid agreed, and wiped his face again. "Wealth is power, with this government."

"Especially since the Emperor has raised the galactic tax," Sarn commented, frowning. "The provinces that bring in the most credits are the ones that the royal family will favor."

"That would hold with most governments," Zehrid said.

As the conversation moved to other planetary systems and their governments, N'oenar stopped paying attention. Wealth is power. His fingers fluttered over the saber hilt hidden under his cloak, and he sighed. Knowledge was power, also, but maybe this knowledge of the dark wasn't power he could control. But he had to. Convulsively, he checked the shroud, relaxing when he realized it was still in place. He didn't even have to concentrate on it, now. The thought should have worried him, he knew, but it didn't.

Finally, Ayliana sat forward. "As interesting as this is… we'd better get moving, if we want to rent a room in the inn before nightfall."

"Inn?" Rohnid asked.

"The one we used last time-"

"No!" N'oenar said roughly. When Ayliana turned to him, he tried to shrug casually. "I just…." How could he explain to her? The memories from that place would never let him rest. The light of the two moons reflecting off the water of the lake, casting a mottled glow over Kerenne's skin, her smile as they spoke late in the evening… even the conversation he'd shared with Jerner, the artful way he'd led N'oenar to the subject of the dark side, and N'oenar's use of it.

Sarn caught his eye, and nodded. "Actually, Rohnid has an apartment here, above the store. Should have enough room for you folks – not like you take up much space. That is, if he's cleaned it in the past decade or so."

"It's clean!" Rohnid said, an affronted expression on his face. "Well, mostly."

Zehrid grinned. "As long as there's food, I don't care how messy it is."

"Come on. You're all hungry, I'll wager, and then will want sleep. And Sarn wants to get back to his wife, I'll wager again."

"Your wager is correct," Sarn said, smiling. They made their farewells, and discussed their plans for the next day. Sarn was determined to keep their minds off of their troubles, and as he put it, the best way to do that was to put them to work.

Once Sarn had left, Rohnid led the way to a hidden stairwell. When they reached the top, he palmed open the door and the sight that met them made N'oenar smile. It wasn't unclean, just cluttered, with datapads and odd objects strewn about. Although the apartment might not meet Sarn's standards, it was good enough for N'oenar's needs. A place to sleep, a place to hide from curious eyes, a place not tinged with memories of Kerenne.

They spent most of the next day in the back room of Rohnid's Rarities, assisting with cataloging the items there. N'oenar felt the sense of warning grow as he worked, but he tried to ignore it. There was little he could do, until it made its source known.

He didn't have to wait long.

After closing, they filed into the front of the store, working on the inventory there. Most of it was already carefully entered into the store's systems, but a few items were missing. N'oenar frowned at the datapad, trying to find the correct name for one of the wickedly serrated knives that hung behind the counter, when he felt a surge of warning.

He turned just as someone banged on the window of the shop. It was a trick of the glass that allowed them to see outside without letting those outside to see in, similar to the glass that separated the kitchen of Lysira's Lair from the front room.

A young man, younger than N'oenar but not by much, raised his arm to bang on the window again. Alarmed, Ayliana and N'oenar slipped into the shadows, and N'oenar pulled the shroud around him, sinking into the anger that was needed to fuel it. Who had followed them? His hand drifted to his saber hilt, though Ayliana shook her head. Gripping it tightly, he steadied himself; he would protect her at all costs.

Sarn, to N'oenar's surprise, took one look at the young man's face and then hurried to the front door, flinging it open. "What's wrong, Danid? Where's Brienna? I thought she was with you-"

"Who's Brienna?" Ayliana whispered.

"Sarn's niece." N'oenar studied the young man – Danid - and decided that his distress wasn't feigned. He loosened his grip on the saber. "They're close."

Danid grabbed Sarn's arm. "She was with me! We were, she wanted… we were out in the hills, looking for some crystals for a school project. They got her! Her parents are on holiday, so I came here. You've got to help!"

"They got her? Who, Danid?"

"They grabbed both of us, then this blue guy came, and said to only take the girl-" Sarn's face darkened at that, as did N'oenar's. Yaril. Ice trickled down N'oenar's spine, ice that quickly boiled in flame when he heard the young man continue, "-and the one grabbing me said don't be an idiot, a slave's a slave, and then the blue guy told him he'd hand-picked the right ones special for the Silver Cage."

"The Silver Cage?" N'oenar breathed, memory hitting him hard. An old woman's voice spoke, Shroud the light, open the silver cage, lead the birds to freedom.… Find the blue tree, the silver cage – the birds are a treasure that you know not…. Master Dannew's voice rose above hers in his mind, The silver cage closes on them as they sing in the blue tree. It is your task, to free the birds. You own the key.

"Must be the name of their ship," Rohnid said, his voice low. "A slave's a slave…. The slavers have her, then?"

"Yes!" Danid's face was a panic. "I don't know who the blue guy was, but we've got to do something! They're leaving tomorrow!"

"I know who it is." His voice colder than durasteel, N'oenar stepped forward. "And I can find him." Vengeance.

Sarn stared at him, then flicked his glance to Ayliana, his thoughts clear. They couldn't speak freely in front of Danid. With a sharp nod, he turned to Danid. "We'll take care of it. Come with me, young man. You need some strong spirits, and I don't care if your parents don't approve."

Once Danid was settled in the back room with a goblet of some strong spirits, Sarn returned to the others. "If you can find that… that…" Sarn's knuckles were white, his fists clenched. "I'll owe you more than you'll ever know, N'oenar."

"I'll go with him," Zehrid said.

N'oenar nodded. He'd been considering what to do while Sarn settled Danid, and he had the rough beginnings already. He and Zehrid could travel to the building where they'd been taken by Yaril - that was where the Utapaun was most likely to be. Then, if N'oenar dropped the shroud, he could draw him out. Lead him on a chase… then wrap himself in the shroud again, and attack when Yaril least expected, pulling information from him by force if necessary. While they were gone, the others could work on a way to get the captives out of the ship.

It could work. It had to work! The Silver Cage… the birds… but where? There was no time to waste. He explained his plan to the others, relieved when Zehrid nodded immediately.

"It'll be risky. What if Yaril attacks Zehrid?" Rohnid said.

"I'll be there, waiting." N'oenar saw Ayliana's mouth open, her brow furrowed, and he shook his head sharply. "That's why you can't come, Ayliana. He'll sense you before we're even close."

"But he won't sense you?" Zehrid asked, frowning. N'oenar caught Sarn's gaze. The other man stared at him for a moment, then nodded slowly.

"I told you, on Jabiim, that if it was for the right reasons, you'd get no argument from me," Sarn said, his eyes hard. "This is the right reason."

---

In no time, Zehrid and N'oenar found themselves in Sarn's speedercart, traveling from the cluster of buildings where he and Ayliana had been kept prisoner. N'oenar let the shroud down in intervals, attempting to draw Yaril out. He had felt the man, or he thought he had, but it was sporadic.

Once they were away from the populated area, they chose a small valley to settle in, mountains of crystals flanking them on two sides. It was beautiful, but the sight did not penetrate his concentration.

"Are you ready?" N'oenar asked. Zehrid nodded, and hefted his blaster. "All right, then. I'll be hidden, but try keep his attention on you as much as you can."

"Right. And I remember the plot just fine, so get hidden." He winked at N'oenar, then walked several paces from the speedercart.

N'oenar grinned at the other man and slid into place, ensuring that he was hidden from view within the speedercart, but still had a vantage point, narrow though it was. Surprise was necessary, he knew – though N'oenar himself now smoldered, Yaril had blazed for a long time. N'oenar closed his eyes and reached out with his senses, enough to sense a spark of heat approaching. Once again, he lowered the shroud and filled himself with the Force, with the light side of the Force, willing Yaril to see and respond.

It didn't take long; or perhaps it did, and his sense of time was skewed by the Force. Either way, Yaril soon appeared, his small transport gliding to a stop with barely a sound. The blue nostrils flared slightly as the Utapaun paused, looking around the valley, and N'oenar checked the shroud reflexively. It was solid, and he knew that Yaril would not be able to pick him out from where he hid in the shadows.

Finally, Yaril's gaze settled on Zehrid. "Alone? Where is your tame Jedi? I felt their presence, but no longer."

"They're gone," Zehrid said, his blaster trained on Yaril, who looked singularly disinterested in the weapon. "How did you get here so early? They left, to seek you out, to bring you here!"

"Pity," Yaril said, ignoring the question. "No matter – they will be found, since they were foolish enough to return to this planet. The royal family will be well pleased to obtain the bounty for them."

"What? The last time we met, you said the favor of the royal family meant nothing to you." Zehrid's voice shook, and N'oenar smiled from his hiding place, impressed with the performance.

"I've set my sights lower." Yaril's eyes narrowed, and he raised his hand. Without effort, the blaster was ripped from Zehrid's grip and flew through the air, landing with a loud crack against a small mound of red crystals. "You thought to trap me, but my senses are more powerful than your tame Jedi estimated. And now, you will be the perfect bait, to bring them close. On my terms."

From the shroud, N'oenar readied himself. The field was bright, red gems glinting spectacularly in the sun. Distantly, in the part of him that welcomed the light side of the Force, he felt a sense of reluctance for what was to happen. Murder shouldn't happen like this, in the broad of daylight; it should happen in the shadows, in the evening, dark deeds covered by the black of night.

Then he saw Yaril raise his hand, felt the surge of the dark side being gathered, and felt the answering surge within. And so, I will bring the shadows with me, N'oenar thought, gripping his saber as he left his hiding place.

Zehrid grinned widely, even as Yaril's invisible grip closed around his neck. The blue man hesitated, tilting his head to the side, but his expression was hidden from N'oenar. "Death… is it the thought of that long slumber that makes you smile so? Or, perhaps, you still believe to be in charge, that I play your game?"

Zehrid's fingers reached up to his neck, though his smile did not dim. N'oenar met his gaze as he approached the Utapaun from behind, and he nodded to Zehrid briefly before saying, "And, perhaps, he is correct."

"You!" Yaril released Zehrid immediately, whirling to face N'oenar. N'oenar smiled thinly, his saber balanced in his hand.

"Me." With a snarl of rage, N'oenar struck out with a savage blow, which Yaril barely fended off. The Utapaun's expression, which had once held disdain, now held something else. N'oenar breathed in the hatred, and the fear, feeling the emotions from the other man strengthen his own power. The dark side pulsed, and he struggled to keep it from blazing.

"You've learned, haven't you, young one? Mastered the shroud, alone… with no teacher, even. I am impressed." Yaril smiled, curved teeth flashing in the sunlight. "The dark side flows through you – I can feel it, smell it, taste it. Imagine what else you could do with it, if I trained you, young one!"

"Where are the slaves?" N'oenar's voice was cold, emotionless. A stark contrast to the smoldering within.

"Slaves?" Yaril's expression was one of confusion. "What do you care for slaves? Unless… did I pick out a special friend of yours, perhaps? No matter; it's too late. They've been taken to the ship, and you can do nothing."

"Where is the slave ship?" N'oenar put all of his will and newfound power behind that question, and the Utapaun was not prepared for such an onslaught. "Where is the Silver Cage?"

"Beside the great falls in the Hroten province, just east of the great blue mountain." Yaril staggered, blinking, then snarled, "It doesn't matter – release them or not, there are always more to be found."

"But you hand-picked these, didn't you?" N'oenar's memory pulled at him. A distant voice spoke in his mind; the speedercart driver from their first trip to Gabris Prime: a white mountain for the Danbreen province, a blue tree for the Hroten province, a cluster of red gems for the Rhentron province. A blue tree for the Hroten province. The blue tree! The pieces fit too snugly.

"Payment has already been received." Yaril's eyes narrowed to slits. "Why don't you run, little Padawan? Run and hide. Don't you remember Roon? Your light is a beacon to the darkness - drawing it ever closer."

Roon. Kerenne. That smoldering ember burst into flame. "Then let it come."

He didn't give Yaril time to react; with the added power from the dark side, he ignited his saber and sprang to the Utapaun, swinging his arm in a tight arc. Throat laid open, Yaril fell to the ground, a liquid gasp heralding the shade of death.

N'oenar stood for several heartbeats, staring down at the body, then reluctantly turned off his saber. He saw Zehrid watching him warily, and he forced the wildly burning fires within back to a smolder. The memory of his first reaction to killing a man, back in the undercity of Coruscant, slid into his mind and he almost laughed. Such shock he had felt, such naïve shock! And now… now, it was different. This time, it was a joy.