:: Chapter Twenty Nine ::

Nathema—Entry #89

It is the year 3632 and I am on Nathema still. My life is empty now and I have nothing but numbers to mark all that I have lost.

Three hundred and forty-four, my age and life extended by a curse—my mortality lost.
Twenty-nine, that is how old Eliza will be now—I have missed her past four birthdays.
Ten years, that's how long ago I first met her—when hope walked into my life.
Five, the number of years we've been married—an anniversary we will never get to celebrate.
Four, the number of years since I last saw her—when hope abandoned me.
Three, my daughter's age—I will never know her.
Sixteen hundred and forty-nine, the number of days I have been here—I started carving on a new section of wall.
Forty-seven, the number of scars on my body today—I feel none of them.
Twenty, the number of tests I was subjected to today—my deception still holds.
Three, the number of senses I have left—at least I am no longer tormented by Jarak's natural odor or the vile taste of this gruel they feed me.
One, the number of senses which have become altered—my sight remains but I no longer detect color.
Zero, the number of emotions I experience—even love has faded now.

Well, perhaps one of two emotions remain. Writing this down now, I feel angered and a sorrow toward the rotten fruits of fate. I think of every moment I have missed—the birth of my child, endless days and nights with my wife, my daughter's first words, first steps. I think of her first birthday, try to imagine the glorious sound of her first giggle, and I experience melancholy.

Love, however, has abandoned me once more. I think of my wife and while I realize her fate is important to me, that her life matters, I no longer experience that glowing warmth that made my heart soar, the rapid beating of my heart just hearing her name or seeing her smile. I remember what we once shared and while sensibly I know those memories should help me feel our love, I just cannot.

This is all I have now, all I can do to chronicle my life and remain sane. Keeping notes on everything I have lost, a number for each occasion. Writing out each uneventful day knowing nothing will change. Knowing the Force saw fit to grant me a unique gift—the return of my senses and emotions—only to rob me of those same things again now.

I cannot do anything here. I'm still in the same cell I was, a small duracrete block. No windows, no bars, no mirrors and the door indestructible. I cannot use my powers for an escape—the void that surrounds Nathema hungers, its heart draining the Force from every gifted being on the planet's surface in a bid to keep its last spark alive.

My only solace these days is the deception I have created. I feign agony each time they probe me with their needles or cut into my flesh. I stage a play of selling my pain, of suffering and at night I pretend to sleep. I will complain of fatigue and weakness and through breathing exercise have mastered the art of slowing my heart rate down so one would think I was on the brink of death.

It is a dangerous game and Jarak grows restless, his man-child Emperor even more so but it is my way to ensure they never discover how close they really are to creating immortality in a bottle. I no longer have a role to play in the fate of the galaxy, nor in Eliza's destiny but this is one thing I can still do—prevent Arcann's bid for immortality so he may die at her hands once they meet.

Lord Scourge finished his writing and closed the diary—one of the few items Jarak would allow him to possess—before he tucked it away under his worn-down mattress. A deep sigh escaped his lips when he crawled onto the stained sheets and let his mind wander.

During these quiet moments, he would entertain himself by reciting stories he had once imagined telling his daughter. He stared up at the ceiling, envisioning the paint blemishes as figures in the tale he told but suddenly sprang up again at an odd, squishy sound and unusual feeling in his mouth. He spat into the upturned palm of his hand and frowned at the two teeth that had fallen out, root and all. His mouth bled, mixing with saliva and he spat a second time, spewing out a third tooth.

"That can't be good…"

At least he looked better now and he no longer smelled like a pile of Bantha excretions, or at least, what Eliza imagined that to smell like as she sat across from him at the tiny, rectangular table in his cell.

"I knew you'd miss me," said Ravage, "you just couldn't stay away, could you?"

A smile, angelic and with the illusion he was her most favorite person, crossed her face. She felt pure disdain for him now, a hatred but she wouldn't let it show.

"You wish, but I do have surprising news to share that I thought might interest you—we have found Regina," she laid the groundwork for the lie and studied his face carefully.

"It turns out she feigned her own death, took a drug that puts you in a death-like sleep for several hours? Long enough to mislead us, anyway."

He didn't even flinch. "Good. I imagine you made her suffer?"

"Quite. It took some effort to make her talk but eventually, she did. She answered each question and then some and, get this, she told me Scourge is still alive. The ring I was sent is a forgery."

Now his eyes sprung wide open and his jaw fell agape. "He is?! Did she lie about all of it? Who would do that?!"

"You would!"

"What?!"

"Ever heard the name Beldiss?" she carried on and refused to buy into the shocked reaction he gave.

"Bel-who?"

"Beldiss, Lord Beldiss. You dispatched him to Voss years ago on a diplomatic mission, to create an alliance with the Voss Mystics."

"Oh, him? Yes, he worked for me right up to his disappearance."

"He didn't disappear, I killed him."

Ravage began to laugh, appearing surprised but not displeased by the news. "Of course you did. Even then you were a pain in my ass but look at us now. Friends, lovers…"

His response left her baffled and brought her off balance, even while she remained stoic in her demeanor. She'd anticipated most any reaction—anger as she came nearer the truth, arrogant rebuttal, gloating even but she hadn't expected this. He sounded sincere and genuinely unaware.

"Regina was his daughter," Eliza relayed to test him further. "Her real name was Thyra Beldiss."

"I never even knew he had a family. Is that why she fabricated the lie about Scourge, to avenge her father and get to you, hurt you? Pathetic."

Doubt began to fill Eliza and she was at a loss for words. She had been so certain he was guilty, never for a second even considering the fact that the two pieces of information they had—his holocall and the connection to the Beldisses—might be an unfortunate coincidence. Or perhaps that's just what he wanted her to believe and if so, he played it well.

The door to Ravage's cell opened up and Theron, who'd been observing the conversation, poked his head inside to bail her out.

"Eliza, you have an urgent call." He gave her a meaningful look.

"Thank you." She smiled and glanced at Ravage. "We're not done yet."

"I'll be waiting," he piped up with a hint of amusement.

The couple stepped outside, into the security hub and Eliza leaned back against the door the second it closed.

"What do you think?" she asked.

Theron, as well as Aric and Darius, looked her way and the former blew out a deep sigh. "I don't know. He appeared genuinely startled when you told him Scourge was alive and confused upon hearing about Lord Beldiss and Thyra."

"I know. I can't figure out if it is an act though. Do you suppose he could have anticipated we'd uncover all of this?"

"If he heard all the ruckus down here yesterday morning then he may have suspected."

"Have you tried contacting this jeweler yourself? You are a customer of his, right?" suggested Darius.

"I am and I've thought about it but Ravage gave the man a gag order that I don't think he'd dare defy. Not with his family threatened."

Aric quietly mulled over the situation. He didn't know each detail but enough to realize something big was at play and he offered his thoughts, "Sir, you have Ravage in lockup. Perhaps that knowledge, or even visual proof, would sway this man to share the truth?"

"That's… it could work."

Theron nodded. "Call him, right now while I set up a video link."

"Alright."

Eliza sat herself down behind the desk and keyed in her passcode to establish a secure connection before she made the call.

"Elias' Finery, your number one supplier for handcrafted and unique jewelry, how may I help?" An older man appeared above her communicator.

"Mr. Elias, Gregory?" she asked to confirm.

"Darth Seraphine! My Lord! Thank the Force, I thought you had perished, I had not seen you since the funeral!"

"Yes, and thank you again for attending, that was considerate of you."

"You and your husband were one of the nicest customers I've ever had the pleasure of serving. Please, tell me, what can I do for you, my Lord?"

"It is a delicate situation, are you alone?"

"I am, yes."

Eliza glanced up at Theron who gave her the thumbs up, letting her know video was available should she need it.

"Gregory, I am aware Darth Ravage has been in contact with you recently. I know he placed an order, for a duplicate of sorts, and threatened you and your family should you ever speak of it. Correct?"

The man stared at her image, stammering and growing visibly uncomfortable, "My Lord, I uh… I never share the details of my business with other clients. I respect everyone's privacy."

"You are not in any trouble, nor are you in any danger. I have Darth Ravage here, locked up at a secret location and he won't hear about this."

"Please, I really cannot discuss this with you."

"Gregory, you have nothing to fear, I promise. Look," said Eliza and she activated the live video feed showing Ravage in his cell, "See? You and your family are safe now."

Upon witnessing Ravage dawdle around his small confinements, Gregory appeared to doubt and stroked his neatly kept beard, contemplating his options but then shook his head. "I truly can't, apologies."

A deep sigh escaped Eliza. She didn't wish to resort to threats of her own, that had never been her way but she needed something to make him talk.

"Perhaps there is something I can do for you in return? Do you need credits, a way out of the city? I don't imagine business is doing well these days," she tried instead.

Again Gregory considered his options and now leaned in, closer to the screen of his datapad. "Could you get me and my family away from Dromund Kaas?"

"I can, yes, and anywhere you wish to go."

"I have a cousin on Alderaan, a servant working for House Thul. She tells me ever since the war, the nobles have only started spending more. Living it up just in case they don't make it through, you know?"

"That would be good business for you. I can get you and your family to Alderaan if you wish."

Finally, the man relented and admitted in a whisper, "I trust you, Darth Seraphine, you are one of the good ones. Darth Ravage had me create a ring—an exact replica of the ring I once made and engraved for your husband.

"I felt uneasy about it at first, I didn't understand the purpose of his request but he claimed it would be a gift for your daughter, so she would have something to remember her father by. I sympathized and accepted the order."

Eliza balled a fist underneath the desk, digging her nails in so hard she could make her palm bleed but toward Gregory, she kept a smile on her face. "Thank you, Gregory. Do you have a copy of the transaction?"

"I do but, apologies, I would rather hold on to that piece of evidence until my family and I have left Dromund Kaas. I hope you understand."

"Of course." She nodded.

He'd already told her what she needed to know, enough for her to face Ravage with certainty about his crime, and after a few more minutes of polite conversation, with the promise she'd contact him soon to make arrangements, Eliza ended the call.

"I need a moment," she sighed out and buried her face in her hands.

Gregory Elias had told her precisely what she'd expected to hear and yet it was a bitter pill to swallow. Her anger and emotional turmoil rising and she needed to calm herself before facing Ravage again.

"Babe, look." Theron placed a hand on her shoulder and gave her his datapad.

The screen displayed a full copy of the transaction between Gregory and Ravage, as well as a detailed description and image of the item that was ordered. It also included a date and a name for the person who'd be picking the order up in person—Thyra Beldiss.

"What… how?" She gaped at him.

"I may have used the video link to slice his datapad while the two of you were—"

Eliza flung her arms around his neck and kissed him deeply. "You're amazing!"

"It pays to date a spy." He smirked.

"Stars, look at the date," she pointed out and Darius leaned in over her other shoulder to read along.

"That's quite a while ago," he observed.

Theron frowned. "That was just days after Nyssa and I had the shuttle crash."

"Mmhm. I guess he decided your presence alone wouldn't be enough to win me to his side…" Eliza shook her head. "Filthy bastard. Do you have the records of his holo-call to Gregory on here as well?"

"I do. Take it inside if you need to."

"Thank you." She turned to Aric and commended him, "And you, for the suggestion."

Armed with Theron's datapad and her best version of a phony smile, she once more traded the preferred presence of her love for a one on one with the man she'd grown to loathe and despise more than she'd ever imagined possible. She cut straight to business.

"About two weeks ago, on the day you assaulted me, actually, you made a call to Elias' Finery on Dromund Kaas to discuss an order you'd placed. A replica of sorts."

She didn't sit back down but put the datapad in front of Ravage, a manicured nail tapping the screen to indicate at the call-log.

"I did. So what?" He barely glanced at the display.

"What did you order?"

"A cock ring. I heard they really spice things up in the bedroom."

His sarcastic response cost him dearly and in the next second, he growled in anger and pain. Eliza had circled behind him and, dissatisfied with his answer, grabbed a handful of his auburn hair to slam his face forward into the desk. She remained perfectly calm, however.

"Try again, and this time without the lies." She leaned forward and pulled up the transaction copy.

Blood dripped from his nose and the impact had forced one of his teeth into his bottom lip which swelled up immediately. He took a second look at the information before him, at the truth he would now be a fool to deny, and smiled. He blew out a deep exhale, admitting defeat first to himself and then to her.

"Fine, there it is then. You've figured it out."

"Not good enough. I want to hear you say it, admit it."

Ravage sat back, tilting his chair some while he put his feet up on the desk and wiped his nose with the sleeve of his robes. His options were limited—admit the whole truth in an unusual round of honesty or antagonize her further with a callous attitude. He chose the option with the highest survival rate—the truth.

"I ordered a duplicate of Scourge's wedding band, fabricated the story and used the knowledge I had of her father's death to persuade Thyra into selling you a lie."

Her knuckles bruised his cheekbone when she swung her fist with full force into his face, punching so hard he was knocked from his seat which clattered onto the floor right next to where he now sat on hands and feet.

"How did you convince her? Why would she escape and end up dead? There is no way that causing me grief would have been enough revenge for her."

"I let her believe she'd have a shot at killing you once we met in person," he grumbled and stood back up. "Obviously, I wouldn't have let her and her imprisonment was an unexpected twist. I don't know why she escaped or how she ended up dead, nor do I care. She was just a pawn."

He reached for the datapad and once more inspected the documents. "Did your new boyfriend uncover these?"

"He overheard part of the call you made, didn't like it so when your comms were confiscated, he did some digging. Traced it to Gregory Elias and sliced his business records to obtain a copy of the transaction between you both."

"And Thyra? This whole story of how she survived and spilled the beans?"

"My way of testing you," she said and sat against the corner of the table, "to gauge your reaction and see if you'd confess."

"I see. Not a bad attempt."

"Neither was yours," they exchanged awkward compliments, "I almost bought into the act of innocence."

"I was never going to show my playing hand that easily."

Eliza's brows knitted together and her demeanor shifted, growing more serious. "Why did you do it? Fabricate the story?"

"Does it matter and would you even believe me now? I assume this revelation has sealed my fate."

"Try."

Another sigh fell from his cracked and swollen lips and he stood close to her, hooking an index finger through the ring she still wore around her neck.

"I was unequivocally convinced of his death—I saw no other reason for the fact none of us could sense or find him, that no one had seen or heard from him for years. If that were me, leaving you and a daughter behind, I would fight my way out of any grave, any prison and overcome every obstacle to make my way back to you. He had to be dead."

He gazed into her eyes and smiled when she quickly averted hers. When her hand slapped his away.

"Do you remember that day before Cytharat arrived?" he continued.

"Vaguely. Didn't your uncle visit while I'd left for Raider's Cove to restock on supplies?"

"My great uncle, actually, and one of the last Seers in this galaxy. His gift is rather unique. He can touch an object belonging to a person and use it to track them down. Blood works as well, better even. It isn't exact, it wouldn't provide coordinates but it shows a person's surroundings and the trail that lead them there."

Eliza frowned. "You were searching for Scourge?"

"I was."

A wandering hand skimmed down her shoulder and arm and he paused, taking her in, possibly for the last time he ever could.

"I introduced my great uncle to Cyara," Ravage explained further. "Told her he could see the future which entertained her enough to participate."

"You used my daughter?!"

"No harm came to her, he only held her hand. She is Scourge's flesh and blood, the strongest connection possible and a product of your love."

"You should have asked my permission," she spat and shrugged his hand off. "What did he see?"

"Death. He found the trace of Scourge's Force signature through Cyara and followed it, only to be met with a hungering and violent essence of death where the trail ran cold, beyond the reaches of the Force.

"That could only ever happen if the person you seek is in fact dead. So I was convinced, as he was, that Scourge had not survived the encounter."

She sensed no deception from him this time. Whereas earlier she'd struggled to separate his truth from the lies, she saw clearly now. "But you never told me."

"The days following were hectic. Cytharat's arrival, the shuttle crash. You were consumed with concern for Shan and finding those pirates… there never was a right time to tell you and then I overheard you talking to him after he woke up.

"You were so steadfast in your hope and belief that Scourge was still alive. So determined to hold on to that hope that I realized my words, or the words of a Seer, would not be believed and you would only get angry with me for making a claim you didn't want to hear."

Again he moved to take her hand but Eliza pulled away, jumping off the table to distance herself from him while she admonished, "So you decided to create a lie that would force me to accept this discovery and belief of yours? What about that night when we sat outside and you told me you knew what it was like to hope?"

"I meant every word. I did and do understand but I was convinced at this point you were just tormenting yourself. He would never return but you would wait forever and I couldn't let you."

"And?" She quirked a brow, knowing there was one piece of admission still missing.

"And, yes, I wanted you to myself and this hope of yours stood in the way," he confessed in truth that his actions had held selfish motivations as well.

Ravage grabbed the toppled chair and pushed it back into place before he sat down. "You know, I tried to abort the plan."

"Hm?"

"After we'd argued on our journey back from Tython. You called me self-serving, manipulative, that I didn't care about the pain I inflicted and that you hated yourself for the moments we'd spent together."

"I wasn't wrong about any of that."

"No, you weren't and I resented just how right you were. You stormed out of my quarters and I contacted Thyra, told her there'd been a change of plans but by then she'd already found Lana and sold her the story I had fabricated."

"Why didn't you just confess at that point?"

"Because despite my regret over the scheme I'd set in motion, I was still convinced that he was dead and it hardly mattered how you'd find out, as long as you knew so you could move on."

She sunk back against the wall, a shiver crawling down her spine when the cold duracrete connected with her skin. Her hands clutching her elbows and she stared at him, letting all he'd told her sink in until his confession drew a single tear from her eyes. One she would ignore as she attempted to hold herself together.

"You know… you broke my heart. Which, I mean, you never even had my heart and yet you managed to break it. Shatter it, completely, with the worst lie you could have ever told."

"He is dead, Eliza. You had to move on." Ravage got back up and tried to approach her with caution. "Now I am sorry for my methods but I don't regret forcing you to accept—"

Frustrated, she shot forward and waved his words off. "But he isn't dead! You were wrong, your great uncle was wrong!"

"... What?"

"That part was true when I fibbed about Thyra. Scourge isn't dead!"

He stared at her, completely flummoxed but then shook his head in denial. "Just because I fabricated—"

"No, this isn't because of that! I spoke with my ancestor, I spoke with Marr, they both confirmed Scourge is still alive."

"Marr? Your ancestor?" Now he really felt she was close to losing her mind. "What are you talking about, where is he then?"

"We don't know," she admitted, "they can't sense or see him in the Force."

"Then isn't that further proof?! Why else would no one be able to find his signature in the Force? Why else can't we find or see him no matter what gifts and tricks we use? Why else can't you feel him?

"Of course, it could be he's in cuffs as I am," he considered out loud though unconvinced, "or perhaps a whole prison made out of some Force dampening technology but that wouldn't explain the violent death my great uncle found!"

Ravage gripped both her shoulders and his eyes pleaded.

"Don't do this to yourself, not…" he began but the sudden wide-eyed stare she gave him, her mouth falling agape before twisting into a smile, halted his words. "What?"

Her whole face lit up, practically beaming as the obvious answer unexpectedly presented itself, triggered by his rant and Eliza laughed.

"Oh of course! I am so stupid! It's been right in front of me all this time in many conversations and through the journals I've read, even within the Astrum!"

"The Astrum… what?" Ravage had never felt more confused than he did now, unable to follow her train of thought.

His bewilderment reached even further heights when he felt her hand on his scarred cheek, tender with her caress, running up to entwine her fingers in his hair and her eyes twinkled at him when she pressed her body flush against his.

"Oh, Markus… look at you, you beautiful, glorious bastard. Scheming to bring Theron in, to win me over but you wound up losing me to him…" she mused and inched closer, her lips drifting towards his while she carried on.

"Scheming to convince me of my husband's death, successfully I might add, but here you are now giving me the answer to the one question that's haunted me for years…"

Her other hand caressed down his arm, gingerly stroking with her fingertips and he stood speechless. Her honeyed tone inviting but her words laced with a double meaning that could either spell forgiveness or death, and he couldn't discern which.

He didn't have long to think about it, either. All at once, her lips were upon his, soft and light, sweet as he'd longed for and he moved to take her into an embrace, so enamored he never saw it coming.

An object pressed to his chest, its cold metal radiating through the fabric of his robes to touch his heart and within a split second, Eliza ignited her lightsaber. Their eyes met, his laden with sudden horror, and between them they shared a fraction of a moment to relive their entire tumultuous history. She held him but withdrew from the kiss and flashed a calm smile.

"Thank you," she whispered to him.

With a simple elegance, she deactivated her blade and let go. His blood seeped down the fabric of her shirt while he sunk to the ground and collapsed. Heaving a last breath, gurgling in an attempt to speak a final word before his body stilled entirely, his eyes forever widened in shock.

Frozen in time, Eliza stood observing the dead man at her feet. Even before entering his cell, she'd decided on a quick death. Deemed him unworthy of further effort and she had imagined that showing her anger, punishing him for hours would only add to his delight in a sick and twisted way. She didn't regret it.

The door flew open and Theron rushed inside, startled by her actions but he wouldn't question it, neither the kiss nor the kill. It was the closure she'd needed and while he wasn't entirely pleased, he would try to understand. His arm slid along her shoulder and he escorted her from the scene, leaving Darius and Aric behind in stunned silence.

"Babe, what is the answer?" he asked.

"The one place where all it all began—Nathema."