Disclaimer: I'm a teacher which means that I don't earn much. Please don't sue me. :)
Mieszak: I love descriptions because it makes everything more life-like. And there will be action, don't worry. The story is slowly going toward the grand finale, but that will take some time. Since the characters have been invented, they should be properly introduced. Glad you're reading.
Before we get back to the poor fallen Jedi, the two Sith talk about their ceremonies of Coming and reminisce. Just a bit of Sith philosophy. :)
Cassie
ooooooooooooooooooo CAP. XXIV – MemoriesThe Chancellor climbed the narrow stairs that led to the top of one of the towers of the Court, yearning for some fresh air, when it became apparent that someone was already there. He halted dead at the sight of the two people who were sitting outside.
"I am very sorry, Lord and Lady," he stammered out. "I was not aware someone else was here. I shall not disturb you."
He disappeared in the doorway and quietly closed the door behind him. The two Sith snorted with laughter and continued their discussion. The cone-shaped roof of the tower offered them protection from the sunlight, and besides, the view was inspiring, as Tarralyanna put it, as they could observe the citizens unseen and study their behaviour and movements. They were discussing Larynthe, but were speaking Sith, aware that her presence had to be kept a secret.
"Maybe they expect children to start understanding things very early," said Lady Tarralyanna, thinking about this.
They were talking about punishments and how Larynthe wondered at everything Tarralyanna said about her childhood and the way she was trained. Children could not understand most things and discipline did not come natural to them, Tarralyanna believed, as learned from experience. Thus, if they are to be trained in the Force, some things have to be imposed upon them, by the means of punishment and reward. She remembered her Master giving her rewards for her good work, but he also punished her for a number of things. When she first managed to levitate a rock with the Dark side, after she was practising it diligently throughout the whole week, as he told her, for he wanted to see whether she would do it on her own, she found a small package in her chambers.
Tarralyanna was well used to the quietness of her chambers and she never felt lonely or wanted to live with her brother. Her need to be alone was genuine and she liked her chambers, as she decorated them the way she wanted to, with Peetah's help. Later she redecorated her chambers on her own. She found the small black package on her writing table, along with a note which was pinned to it. "We must fall, before we can rise," it read in her Master's handwriting. Eagerly she ripped the paper and pulled the small wooden box open. Inside was a snail's shell, but not that of just any snail. She had been given a thick book on zoology and she had been reading it for a while. She once complained to Tammutyen that there were too many animals in there, too many things she had never seen and could not imagine, let along learn about them, and her Master must have heard her. This blue shell of a snail the size of her fist belonged to species which lived on the shores of the Caelian domain. It was nicknamed 'horned angel' because it had very prominent horns, and its soft, light blue colour reminded people of angels. She showed it to her brother, who was not all fascinated with it, but rather with the fact the Dark Lord rewarded her. She placed it beside her plate and stared at it as she ate. Its shiny surface reflected the candlelight and yet it absorbed some of it, so that it seemed to be glowing from inside. She was simply fascinated with it and studied it for days afterwards. It certainly awoke fresh interest in zoology in her.
"If they do, then they must be stupider than I thought," said Tammutyen. They laughed. He offered her one of his cigars, but she shook her head, widening her eyes at him.
"No way," she said. "I would faint if I smoked that."
He shrugged and ignited it, leaning aback in his seat and staring at the snowy mountains in the distance.
"It is a completely different system, Tammutyen," she said, thinking about this and pulling out one of her long cigarettes with dignity. "They teach that showing one's emotions is acceptable; that it is human. That it is all right to feel sad, happy, or angry – and yet they consider too much of anger to be bad. They call such people, who are prone to anger—" at what she gave him a meaningful look, "—'aggressive' people; 'bullies', the Jedi told me. Why? If they encourage the display of emotions in the first place?"
"Master said that they were afraid of it," said Tammutyen, his cigar bobbing as he spoke.
"Well, all right, that is something I can accept," said Tarralyanna, nodding. "There are cowards. And cowards are afraid of everything that jeopardises them, everything that threatens to destroy what they believe in, what they know. They are afraid of the unknown. All right, I can understand that. And thus, anger, in its full size and strength, can be intimidating. We both know that. Thus they are afraid of it, afraid to lose control over it, fearing destruction."
"Yes," he agreed. "I can go with that, too. I can understand it."
"Could it be, then," she spoke suddenly after a pause. "That the Jedi was afraid of what her world might look like, after her companion was killed? She loved him, she told me so herself. So – what if her fear of the unknown actually manifested as sorrow? As grief? She cried as she thought of him because it reminded her how her life used to look like and with him gone, she found herself at a very strange place. Especially with the fact that she lost her ability to feel the light side."
"If that is true," said Tammutyen, amazed, "Then the Jedi are the most contradictory specimens of human begins I have come across, and you are the best psychologist I have ever heard of."
She gave him a quick smile and continued thinking about this, deciding that it made sense. Fear, she thought; it is the root of all evil. Whenever she encountered something inexplicable like this, she would try fitting fear into to picture.
"She has never really suffered, never really felt profound physical pain," she continued. "Which is why she believes that there is nothing worse than death. How strange, is it not?"
"It is funny, actually," said Tammutyen, laughing. "In a way, she is still a child. She knows nothing."
"Indeed," said Tarralyanna, nodding seriously. "Do you know what she told me when I talked about the ceremony of Coming? That she did not believe one required 'such perverse sacrifices to prove oneself'."
Tammutyen now positively roared with laughter and Tarralyanna sat shaking her head. Tammutyen thought it was a damn good joke.
"Well, not any more," he said, still chuckling to himself. "Sacrifice of our lives does not really pose much of a challenge any more. But at the time it was a sacrifice."
For a while they sat in silence, thinking and smoking.
"Why do you suppose there is just one word for 'sister' in Albinian?" she asked at length. "It designates both a sibling, meaning the other child of the same parent, as an equal in an Order? I know for a fact that there are certain organisations in which it is a custom to call another member brother or sister, so this seems to be nothing new to the people of Horukaan. Many people now believe we are children of the same parent, because of the ambiguousness of the word."
"Humans. Imprecise and vague. Do we care?" he growled. Tarralyanna smiled.
They reminisced about their ceremonies of Coming. Tammutyen was still laughing about hers, whereas she could barely believe what happened herself. Now it all seemed like a distant dream and she was now certain that the Dark side manipulated her and led her to believe what she had to believe.
Tarralyanna was suffering from great strain and anxiety that week, prior to the Ceremony, not knowing she was to attend one at all, because her Master did not say a word to her about it. She was alternating from one disappointment and defeat to another. Nothing she did was right; and it reminded her very vividly of the time she tried to kill herself. It was the same feeling all right, although her capacity for work and her capabilities have grown enormously. It was the same choking, horrible feeling of helplessness – she was trying as hard as she could and yet it felt like running in place. Her Master did not remark on this, nor did it seem to her that he noticed at all. During trainings he ignored her and only every now and then cast a contemptuous glance at her which made her feel sick.
She could not sleep, or barely. Everything she learned during the day seemed to vanish from her blunt mind already the following morning and her limbs felt sore and heavy, unable to follow the voice of her will, which was faltering as well. Her meditation was a nightmare. She would try so hard to concentrate that her palms were bathing in sweat when she would open her eyes and yet nothing was accomplished. Coffee did not help any more, but gave her terrible chest pains instead which only made matters worse. As she put it herself, her inner incongruence and disharmony were growing with alarming speed, and she felt there was nothing she could do. She got back to basics, tried again and again, more zealously, but nothing worked. It almost felt as though the Dark side itself had turned away from her and did not offer her the same inspiration and support as it normally did. She felt as though she was cursed.
One morning, her Master approached her and said he wanted to speak to her.
"You are either not trying hard enough," he told her sternly, while she stared at her hands blankly. "Or your power is diminishing. Either way, I do not feel that this will work any more. I am sure you have given your best – but it means that you simply have not been born to be a Sith knight. But, I shall be merciful. I shall give you time to think about how you want to die."
Tarralyanna did not need time to think. A picture she last saw in her Zoology of Horukaan handbook appeared in her mind and she lifted her glance.
"The Ps'Loth, Master," she choked. "I choose the Ps'Loth."
"Very well," he said softly. "You shall have one shortly."
She attended her morning training, all the while thinking it was her last. She did not say anything to Tammutyen, who did not want to broach the issue of her current state, thinking that he would do more harm than good in doing so. When she returned to her chambers, wishing she could get there fast enough so that she could collapse on her bed, she found a large box beside the fireplace. Strange hissing was coming from it. She approached it, her hands trembling, and peered inside. A large black and scarlet snake was sleeping coiled at the bottom of the box – the Ps'Loth, the venomous mountain snake, which preyed upon its victims from the scanty shrubbery which grew on mountain plateaus. Tears filled her eyes; a part of her wanted to believe that her Master was joking, but he was a Sith. He was merciless and had absolutely no remorse, placing his duty above all just like his students, who esteemed the same virtues themselves. Tarralyanna understood him; he could not keep her as his apprentice, as powerful as he was, and she did not deserve to be called one.
She dressed herself in her sad'khai, finding strange comfort in the fact that she would at least die a Sith and took the box with her into her meditation chamber. She could have pushed her hand inside the box then and there, but she wanted to make a ceremony out of it. She was grateful to the Dark side to all that it offered her and to her Master for teaching her all those years. The Dark side lavished her with gifts she could only dream about; and she wanted to honour it in the last moments of her life. When close to dying, a person recalled what or whom he cared about the most. Tarralyanna first thought about the Dark side and then about her Master. She sat down in her meditation chamber and folded her legs underneath her, falling into a strange state of empty numbness, cradled in the Dark side. It was not how she was used to feel it, when her meditations were still good, but it was there. She reached out for the Dark side and expressed her readiness for death; and she felt a faint response, something like an affirmation. In such a state, tears flowing down her cheeks, strength began to roil through her and she felt at peace at last. She pushed her hand inside the box and felt the sharp bite of the snake's fangs. She did not cry out. She noted with relief that the poison began to spread through her blood and again reached out for the Dark side, falling into nothingness, her thoughts slowing down along with her heat. The next thing she knew, her Master was standing beside her and was smiling softly at her.
"Do you know who I am?" he asked. She blinked.
"My Master," she answered quietly, thinking she was dead. She reached out with her hand for him. To her surprise, he caught her hand and held it firmly in his, looking down at her seriously. This assured her that she must be dead, because he would not have done such a thing after everything that happened.
"And who are you?" he asked.
"Tarralyanna, servant of the Great Dark side; in the Dark side I have been born, in its mighty embrace I have lived, and in its deep bowel I shall find my last rest," she answered.
"Rise," he said, getting to his feet and distancing himself away from her. "And follow me."
Staggering, she followed him. She felt dizzy and weak on her feet and her sight was blurred. The Dark Lord led her to a dark chamber and there seated himself on what looked like a throne, telling her to wait by the entrance. Standing hunched and trembling, what was uncharacteristic enough for her, she stared at him.
"I am the Dark Lord of the Sith," he spoke in a deep, echoing voice. "I am the tongue of the mighty Dark side on Horukaan. I am the eyes of flashing thunder; the voice of the roaring wind. I am the might of the stars, the long-lost twirl of Darkness which shall once again swallow the world. Who are you?"
Tarralyanna, having read about legends of the guardians of the afterlife world of the Dark side, believed that he had manifested himself for her there in order to lead her to the Dark side, to rest there.
"Tarralyanna, servant of the mighty Dark side," she said quietly.
"Come forward," said the Dark Lord.
She made a few paces in his direction and then fell to her knees. Her legs gave way under her.
"I do not regret anything I have done in my life," she said, uninvited, as though urged by the Dark side itself to speak, but her Master patiently sat and listened. "Because I only ever wanted to become a powerful Sith. I just wish I had the strength to become one in my lifetime and I am sorry I disappointed you."
"If you were not a Sith," he said slowly. "Who would you have wanted to be?"
The question took her by surprise and she looked up, thinking. Her thoughts were easily accessible to the Dark Lord and he was able to check the truthfulness of her statements, as she answered, shaking her head:
"I do not know, my Master. I have been born a Sith. To become a Sith was my only purpose. Not to be a Sith would mean to cease existing."
"Why do you think you have been born a Sith?" he asked, giving a laugh that confused her. "I did not see anything so grand and magnificent in your work."
"It is my purpose," she said quietly. "It is who I am. And I have given everything in order to fulfil this goal. When it could not be fulfilled, I looked for another way how to serve the Dark side – from the grave."
The Dark Lord was silent for a moment and then got to his feet, approaching her. She did not look up until he was sheer before her, and extended a hand. He lowered his hand on her head and she felt him caress her hair. As he did so, noise coming from the Dark side itself filled her ears and made her temporarily deaf. The Dark side enveloped her spirit and lifted it into nothingness; she felt as though she was being ripped apart by the force of this wave, but she was not afraid. She was dying – at last.
She opened her eyes to stare at familiar pair of feet and lifted her head, wondering where she was. The Dark side vibrated around her with such strength and force that the first thing she thought was that she indeed was dead at last, because she did not remember ever feeling so in tune with the Dark side. She was home.
"Open your eyes," said a familiar voice.
She looked up, jerking her head so hard it began to ache and the pain she felt triggered doubt within her – she could not feel pain if she was dead, could she?
"No, you are not dead," answered her Master. She knelt on, uncertain what to think of this, while he bent forward. "Give me your left hand," he said. She immediately extended it, not thinking. She felt him take it and then slip a ring on her ring finger. It was heavy and cold, but it was glowing from within; glowing, with the power of the Dark side. It was the same finger Tammutyen wore his new ring on, she remembered now and looked up. The Dark Lord nodded at her and waved a hand.
"Rise," he said softly, looking down at her with pride – she would never forget it. "Lady Tarralyanna of the Sith."
For a moment she hesitated, but then got to her feet, staring at him.
"You have passed your test, my apprentice," he said quietly, surveying her with his glance. "You have laid down your life before me and before the Dark side, and pledged your eternal allegiance to it. You have conquered your last fear – the fear of death and now nothing can stand in your way."
She stared at him, still unable to process his words.
"Then… I am not dead?" she whispered. "But the snake, it…"
"Do you seriously believe that the Dark side is not powerful enough to save its servant from death?" he asked, laughing a little. "The poison is gone from you; the Dark side accepted your offering and gave you power in return."
"My Master," she whispered, her chest heaving up and down as the meaning of these words finally reached her blunt mind. "I do not know what to say!"
"I know what I am going to say, though," he said softly. "I am proud of you, Tarralyanna. You have outdone my expectations. Your brother might have been knighted before you, but you have shown courage and endurance rarely seen. You may have suffered a long period of incongruence, but you broke out of it, and now you can reap all of the fruits of your long, hard work."
"You have suffered a lot," said the Dark Lord quietly. "But in pain you have been born anew; in death you have found life; and flesh is but a shell for you now."
He tapped her on the shoulder and distanced himself away from her. Tarralyanna – or better, Lady Tarralyanna – could not stop grinning as she stared at his back.
"I want you to go to your chambers and think about your experience," he said, walking back to his throne, his black cloak brushing gently against the polished floor. "About everything that happened in the past two weeks. And then, I want you to write an Oath. It shall be an Oath to the Dark side, to me, expressing your views on yourself as you are now and a summary of your experience, what you had been through. You will come here, tomorrow at the fall of the Luth sun, and hand it over to me."
"Yes, my Master," she said, knowing that she was supposed to be feeling insanely happy, having just made it through the ceremony of the Coming, but surprisingly, she did not feel madly happy. She was just – pleased.
"Your brother shall be warned not to trouble you," he said, picking something up from a table beside the throne – it was some sort of an amulet, she noted. "As it is important that you do it on your own."
"I understand, Master," she said, nodding.
oooooooooooooooooooooo
Tammutyen's experience was quite different, although in essence the same. He had never been told that the Ceremony was about to be done soon and he found himself experiencing all the worst fears that followed him throughout his childhood. One night, he dreamt about Tarralyanna and that he got lost in his Rage – something that happened all too often when he was a boy. He was hungry, he was angry and he lost himself in his Rage, forgetting about who he was or what he was doing, driven by one desire only – to destroy. In his dream he killed Tarralyanna by cutting her into many pieces with an axe. His Master appeared in his dream. Tammutyen tried to kill him too, as he was threatening to punish him for his disobedience. Just as he was about to kill him, he woke up in cold sweat, panting, and lay in his bed for quite some time, thinking about his dream. The experience frightened him for one simple reason. The creatures of the night – one of which he was – were bloodthirsty by nature and did not basically care about who they bit and how many they killed in order to satiate their stomachs. To Tammutyen, it had always been an insult to presume that he would fall that low, that he would not be able to control his own urges for feeding and he prided himself with his self-control. And to see himself, in his dream, so vividly, so life-like, giving in to the worst parts of himself, was more he could bear.
He was tempted again and again, even in a waking state, and he did not know what was worse – dreaming about it or experiencing it in its full size and horror. Smells of blood seemed to squeeze through the door of his chambers and it was just horrible to watch how his body reacted to it, to realise how he could not control himself, despite of how much he was actually eating and yet never having enough. To compensate for the awful feeling of destructiveness that seemed to be raging within him, just waiting to be unleashed, he would angrily thrust daggers into his flesh and then watch it heal, his eyes burning, his blood boiling, the horrible feeling of hunger and inability to stay at one place smothering him until he thought he would burst out of his skin.
And then there were the Dark side apparitions. They followed him everywhere, reminding him of what he really was and telling him that he was hungry, egging him on. They would remind him of his worst fears and made even sleeping a nightmare. His chambers were full of them, behind every corner, under his bed, in his meditation chamber, behind the cabinet, staring at him threateningly and wordlessly, while he tried to go about his daily duties. His natural proneness to anger now seemed to be set free without his consent. His mind, when not carefully controlled, was a nest of brutality no human being could ever imagine. But the worst was the fear of what he might become, if the last traces of control were gone; if he lost himself in the dark, throttling wave of destructive anger which did not care about anything. Its purpose was to destroy and it wanted Tammutyen to serve it, rather than control it.
He endured this and fought and failed, too many times to count. But at some point he snapped. He got so fed up with it, so angry, that he went to meditate, determined to ask the Dark side to kill him. He sank into meditation and slowly distanced himself away from the physical world. The whispers of the beast felt like the pounding of a hammer against his skull.
"Mighty Dark side," he thought, standing in his mental Temple, where he usually went to find peace and to counsel with the Dark side – or, rather, with himself. "I turn to you, in these darkest moments and the eclipse of my power. Take me with you; take my body – it is yours. I am too weak and I cannot serve you on this world."
As he sank into the Dark side, it occurred to him how his anger could be put to use. Instead of being angry with himself for failing to cope with this crisis, he should turn this anger on the outside and use its power. Use it against this beast to tame it. Now it was too late, of course... But the least he could do was to try. In his mental landscape he let a lock of his hair drop into the sacrificial brazier, as a symbol of the beast within him which was consuming him, and he let it burn. And as he watched it burn, he felt strangely at peace. The Dark side apparitions closed in on him and he relaxed, allowing them to seize hold of him and start tugging at him. As he felt being ripped apart, he did not cry out or panic. He felt he had done what was supposed to and waited for the end to come, for the Dark side to take him and allow his body to die. He had no idea how long he sat there; all he knew was that he wanted the Dark side to take him. He opened his eyes to see his Master standing over him.
"Do you know who I am?" he asked quietly.
"My Master," answered Tammutyen in voice which did not seem entirely his own.
"And do you know who you are?" his Master asked.
He had to think about this for a moment, for at first, he had no idea. He sat in meditation for far too long. Then he answered:
"Tammutyen, servant of the Great Dark side."
"Follow me," said his Master curtly and turned away from him.
Tammutyen tried to get up, but it seemed as though his limbs were glued to the floor. When he managed to disentangle himself from his robes and pull out his legs from under each other, it became apparent that he could barely walk. His blood was completely drained from his legs and it took quite a bit of time and effort on his part to get up and start using his legs, while his Master patiently waited in the other room, watching him without a word. He led him into a dark chamber and there settled himself on a throne. Tammutyen gaped at him, not knowing what to think.
"I am the Dark Lord of the Sith," said his Master in a deep voice. "I am the voice of the Dark side on this world. I am the voice of the storm and thunder; I am the eyes of the Black Flame; I am Rage and I am Power; I am the hand of the Dark side which shall swallow this world. Who are you?"
"Tammutyen, servant of the Dark side," said Tammutyen in a strange voice. It now positively looked like he succeeded and that he was indeed dead. His Master would lead him across to the Dark side, to rest there, he believed.
"Why do you come?" asked the Dark Lord.
Tammutyen took a deep breath before he answered, thinking for a moment of how to phrase his reasons.
"I did not choose death as an escape – I chose it because I was unable to fulfil my purpose on this world and wanted to do it from the grave. I was weak; but I hope I will still get the chance to fulfil the will of the Dark side."
"If you decided to die for such a reason," said the Dark Lord slowly. "Then you must pledge your eternal allegiance to the Dark side. You must forever belong to it and honour it; there shall be no rest, no joy for you. And you shall exist for all eternity with the Dark side."
"Yes, my Master," answered Tammutyen fanatically. "My flesh was weak; but my will is much, much stronger. I shall dart and flash across the world, serving the Dark side, and I will never get weary. I am a Sith – let me leave my weak body behind and let my soul rest with the Dark side."
The Dark Lord watched him for a few moments, obviously listening to his thoughts. Tammutyen waited with his head bowed, feeling oddly focused after all that torment. He heard his Master descend the throne and approach him.
"Give me your left hand," said his Master quietly. Tammutyen wondered what was going to happen – would he brand him again? Why did he need his left hand? The Dark Lord took it into his, and before Tammutyen could wonder why he was feeling his cold hands if he was dead, he felt a ring being slipped on his ring finger. Unable to hold back his curiosity, he looked at his hand and found himself staring at a large, ornate ring glittering on his hand.
"You have passed your test, my apprentice," said the Dark Lord with pride in his voice. "You have shown dare and courage beyond my expectations and your belonging to the Dark side has been sealed. You have not lost yourself and you have kept your goal in sight. Rage was your weapon and the Dark side helped you to hold the sword that destroyed the last obstacle in your path. Thus I knight you; and may the power of Rage always be with you and not against you. Rise, Lord Tammutyen of the Sith."
Tammutyen knelt on, processing these words and then slowly got to his feet, feeling his Master step away a little to give him more space, what sobered him up. Tammutyen was, after all, a bulky man. He stared at his Master, unable to believe this but read the answer in his eyes, as the two Sith stood facing each other. And the following moment, he was startled and astonished with the fact that the Dark side was practically raging around him and that it was right under his fingertips, ready to be used. Tammutyen winced, stretching out his senses and coming to the conclusion that the Dark side practically rushed toward him. It did not require any effort at all.
"Yes," said his Master, nodding and smiling. "The Dark side is stronger with you than ever. I am impressed with your work, my apprentice. You have shown great courage and dare; and not even death stood in your way."
Tammutyen spent the night writing his Oath and despite of what he thought, the words simply flew into his mind and he wrote line after line after line. When he was done, he rolled it up carefully and went to bed, exhausted, sleeping through most of the following day, unable to remember his dreams. The following day, he went to hand in his Oath. Kneeling beside the throne, he waited for the Dark Lord to read through it. When he was done, he placed it upon a table beside his throne, and proffered a dagger to Tammutyen.
"Now sign it," he said. "In blood."
Tammutyen eagerly gripped the dagger and drew it over his palm; he accidentally let a few black drops fall down on his oath, but he thought it was a good touch. He quickly pressed the quill on his palm and signed his name underneath his oath. His Master watched him without a word and picked up the parchment when Tammutyen stepped back once again.
ooooooooooooooooooooo
The Ceremony of Birth had been done when they were still children and the two Sith barely remembered it. Tammutyen however remembered how his name sounded when the tall man wearing black – the Dark Lord – spoke it aloud. They were five. Tammutyen thought it must be the name of a great warrior, someone strong and powerful, someone he both feared and wanted to be. Tarralyanna thought her own name was beautiful; graceful and dangerous at the same time. Before the Naming, they have simply been called the Boy and the Girl.
"Now, shake hands," said their Master, as the two children stood side by side before him, staring up at him with their eyes wide, wearing clean and tidy sad'khai, tied and arranged according to the Sith tradition. Tarralyanna's – then violet – hair was gently brushing against the floor, held back from her face by a few pins (as Peetah, her nanny, combed her hair for the Ceremony), whereas Tammutyen's was strewn all over his shoulders like a strange grey-brown curtain. He did not like his hair to be restrained when he was little and grumpily allowed Pentoh, his male nanny, to do this for him for his every training. The two children turned to look at each other and felt a strange bond. They have just been branded and together experienced the worst pain they have ever felt in their lives, and this, if nothing else, seemed to bring them closer.
"The life of a Sith is pain, and through it, he gets to know the Dark side and himself. But the life of a Sith is also strength and power, for through pain and torment, he rises to know himself, to understand himself, and to master himself," their Master said after he pressed the burning iron on their skin, leaving them screaming and gasping for breath.
"Come to know pain and explore it," he added as he turned away from them, leaving them kneeling on the floor, seemingly ignoring their agony.
Now Tammutyen extended his hand to Tarralyanna first and she reached out with hers reluctantly. She looked into his eyes and then placed her fist into his large palm, uncertain what it meant to 'shake hands'. They gripped each other's hand for a moment and then smiled at each other. It was a moment they would never forget.
"What you bear on your forearms," their Master spoke on, as they turned to face him once again solemnly, realising this was something tremendously important and staring up at their Master with wonder. "is the symbol of the bond you share with each other, and with me. From now on, I shall be your teacher, your guide in the Dark side, your advisor and your only authority. I shall be your Master. Do you swear to follow me wherever I may take you?"
"Yes, Master," answered Tarralyanna in her soft, childish voice. Tammutyen answered with his head bowed.
"Very well," said their Master, approaching them. The both of them bowed their heads, and Tarralyanna felt him slip something over her head, which went just a little over his knees. She took it into her hand after he passed her – it was a beautiful medallion, heavy, done in silver, and ornamented at the front. The symbol at the front seemed vaguely familiar. She saw with the corner of her eye the boy receiving an alike one. They were children, true; but they felt attracted to the power and authority of this strange, tall man and they respected him. Tarralyanna only wanted to stay with him because although he was strict with her and did not allow any nonsense, he seemed to care for her. He took her for walks, gave her toys and read to her from time to time.
He had been teaching them what he called their native language until then – a complicated set of glyphs which they drew for hours and hours together in the library and were learning how to read. They would read to each other and little Tarralyanna was pointing out his mistakes to Tammutyen, whereas he was trying to make her angry so that she would toss a book at him. The two children, however playful and at times bored with their work, would immediately get back to it as the tall, threatening figure of the Dark Lord swept into the library. He made them read to him and was patiently correcting their mistakes, holding a rod in his hand with which he would smack them for either impertinence or lack of trying. Until the age of nine, all they knew was Sith; and only then did the Dark Lord start teaching them Albinian and introducing other languages to them.
But Tarralyanna remembered something more from her childhood when the great Dark Lord Ka'Th'Spaa prodded her mind. She was three, a confused, frightened little thing, her round, beautiful sapphire eyes glancing over the black marble which seemed to be everywhere. The tall stranger came into her chambers and took her with him. She remembered running after him, trying to keep up his pace, running down the endless, long, terrifying corridors, until he paused and turned to her. A Malaskian was standing behind another small figure, which was looking around itself, equally confused and frightened. She stared at the small creature – she had no idea there was someone as small as she was around here.
"Girl," said the stranger in a quiet voice, pushing her forward slightly to come to face the boy, who was staring at her with his mouth slightly open, obviously asking himself the exact same thing as she was. "Meet the Boy." Tarralyanna, of course, knew that she was called the Girl and thought that it was her name, whereas she did not know the meaning of the word the stranger used – she supposed it was his own name.
"Where is father?" wheezed the boy in Albinian. Tarralyanna could not understand him and simply stared at him, drinking in his appearance.
"He is gone," said the tall stranger simply. He ignored Tammutyen's whimpering and sent the Malaskian off with the two children for them to play. So the childhood of the two Sith began.