Disclaimer: I'm a teacher which means that I don't earn much. Please don't sue me. :)

In this chapter the fallen Jedi finally goes through the ceremony of Birth. But her troubles are far from over. :)

Cassie

ooooooooooooooooooo

CAP. XXVIII – Birth in Darkness

Larynthe did not care for the dimensions of her sword, but Lord Tammutyen insisted on bringing her vision of it to life and making the sword exactly as she thought it would fit her best. He nagged her with a series of questions which finally made her explode. She shouted at him that she would find the sword much easier to handle if its weight was half of the weight proposed on the sketch. This sounded natural and logical to Tammutyen and he set off to find Lady Tarralyanna to calculate the new dimensions for Larynthe's sword. He had Larynthe work half of that day and did not allow her to rest until the blades were finished and ready for engraving.

As he sat watching her work on her blades the following day, squinting through smoke which was the result of her hard work and Lord Tammutyen's smoking, he kept wondering whether she really knew what the phrase she was now engraving meant. His Master told him not to tell her; but he was certain that Larynthe could easily find out. But, as it were, she was too exhausted each time she came back to her room to ever wonder about that.

"Your sword shall be finished today," he said, more to himself. "And tomorrow Tarralyanna and I shall train you in speaking Sith."

Larynthe looked up from her work, her face pale and sweaty, and squinted through the mist.

"You have to be joking," she said incredulously. "I understand a few words, that is all. It is infernally hard!"

"Well, you will have to learn fast, Jedi Larynthe," he said, giving an amused chuckle. "Because my Master wants to perform the Ceremony soon."

"Why is it necessary for me to speak Sith?" she asked. She would have asked this sooner, but she had more pressing matters on her mind.

"The whole Ceremony is in Sith," said Lord Tammutyen, puffing clouds of fragrant smoke toward her. "And you will need to speak in Sith, too. The Dark side shall listen and it is only appropriate that you speak Sith. It is the language of the Dark side; and every Sith that ever died and rests with it shall hear you."

"You think so?" she asked, curious. All this sounded very plausible; and for a moment she wondered why there was no Jedi language. The Sith's lips curled into a derisive smile which evolved into a smirk.

"I know so," he answered softly. "Thus it is very important that you speak Sith, even if your grammar is lousy. Lady Tarralyanna and I will teach you all the important sentences."

"Can I ask you just one question?" she asked, reaching after the ewer with water. Drinking water was about the only thing she was allowed to do while working and Larynthe suddenly caught herself drinking far more water than what she would usually require. The Sith nodded wordlessly.

"Why do you enjoy inflicting her pain?" she asked without blinking. The monumental Sith seemed to be taken aback with this question. "I have noticed, you know. Not that she does not retaliate or enjoy it... But you really cannot hide the look of immense pleasure when you are beastly to her. I have seen you kiss and you were pushing her around and clawing her."

The Sith considered her for a few moments, after what he burst into laughter.

"Humans," he muttered to himself, crushing down his cigar and blowing out the last bit of smoke through the corner of his mouth. "We come alive, when we are pain and it reminds us of how fragile our flesh really is. Inflicting each other pain makes our blood boil, our minds dizzy and our hearts beat faster. Well, hers anyway," he added with a smile. But Larynthe did not notice his correction.

"Your blood seems to be boiling just fine even without that, Lord Tammutyen," remarked Larynthe quietly, resuming her work. The Sith laughed again. He was very amused with her questions, and could now understand why Lady Tarralyanna claimed that the Jedi was making her laugh all the time.

"You see torment and suffering," he said. "I see passion and celebration of life."

"It is impossible for me to see any pleasure in experiencing pain," said Larynthe.

"No," he said, then pointing at her. "Not in physical pain anyway. But do you not inflict yourself pain by constant craving? You crave after food, after rest, after peace, after so many things, and yet when you have all these things, you find something else to crave for. It must be exhausting."

She looked at him, unable to resist sneering.

"You do not look forward to eating? To sleeping?" she said, shaking her head. "Quite sincerely, I find that hard to believe."

"I do look forward to those things," he answered. "But I do not identify myself with food or with any sort of pleasure. For me those are only means to an end."

"I am sorry, but I cannot believe that," she said firmly.

"Of course you cannot," he said, contrary to what she thought he would say. "Perhaps some day, you shall. Perhaps even after the Ceremony. I still do not think you are neither ready for it, nor worthy to be taught by my Master. But he wants you to do this – and I shall do my very best to prepare you for it."

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

("Who are you?") asked Lady Tarralyanna the following day, with Larynthe sitting bolt upright and glancing from one Sith to the other. She asked the question in Sith, speaking slowly and clearly, to help Larynthe understand. She understood it, but furrowed her brow, asking herself what she was supposed to answer to such a straightforward and silly question. They knew her name! Why should she say who she was if they already knew?

"Now you should say something like 'sincere follower of the great Dark side' or 'seeker of the heart of Darkness'," said Lord Tammutyen, speaking in Albinian, and then translating the two phrases for her in Sith.

"Heart of Darkness?" echoed Larynthe with a twitch of her mouth, trying very hard not to burst laughing. To her, this sounded awfully poetical, dramatic and terribly funny.

"Albinian is so very limited in its vocabulary," said Lady Tarralyanna with a sigh. "There is but one word for darkness. The one Tammutyen used signifies the power of the Dark side. Thus 'the heart of Darkness' would indicate the heart of the power of the Dark side. Poetically speaking, for of course, there is no such thing."

"I see," said Larynthe, chuckling to herself. "All right, let us just say for a moment that I understood what this Ceremony is all about and why I need to take it. Should I not be sincere? Say what I really think?"

"Within certain frames, yes, by all means," said Lady Tarralyanna, now getting interested. Every time she leaned forward in that way, Larynthe learned, it meant that Lady Tarralyanna was curious. "Why? What would you have said if I asked you that question now?"

"Well, going along the same poetic line, I would say that I am the one who is searching for the lost light," said Larynthe at once. The two Sith exchanged glances and Lady Tarralyanna smiled broadly.

"It sounds very characteristic of you and it sounds truthful, which is very important," she said, fascinated. "Try to translate it. Tammutyen and I shall help you with that. Oh, and the word for light would be 'Kem'Paar'. It means clarity and brilliance. It is just one aspect of the Albinian word 'light', but the one you wanted to use, am I right?"

"The word is very fitting, yes," said Larynthe, surprised with her understanding. For once, the Sith seemed to understand her.

"After you have been led in, Master shall speak to you. But Tammutyen will translate in case you cannot understand everything," continued Lady Tarralyanna.

"Lady Tarralyanna, I can understand but a few words," said Larynthe, annoyed. She wrote down the phrase the two translated for her and put down her quill. "And when you speak to each other you speak so fast and muffled I can barely catch a word, let along understand you."

"Master shall speak slowly enough," said Lady Tarralyanna consolingly. "Back to the Ceremony. You will be asked to present your sword. After that, you shall give your Oath before the Dark Lord and the Dark side. Now, you will write down that Oath, in Albinian, if you cannot do it in Sith just yet, and present it to him."

"What kind of an oath?" asked Larynthe, knowing this was the oath the Dark Lord spoke about, but now it seemed that this oath was supposed to be more than just 'I swear I will serve the Dark side'. They make a fuss out of everything concerning this stupid ceremony, she thought, and complicate things – so why not complicate this as well?

"In it, you shall explain your reasons for turning to the Dark side; you shall try to describe yourself, who you are now, and what the Dark side's acceptance would mean to you; you shall reflect upon the future, trying to sum up what you believe your service to the Dark side should look like and what it should bring you. Then you shall promise to give all that you believe is fitting, at this time, in return for the Dark side's support; and finally, swear your allegiance to our Master. Now, we are not certain about that last bit. He did not say what he wants you to be, or how he will train you," said Lady Tarralyanna, surreptitiously looking at her brother. Since the Dark Lord wanted Larynthe to present her sword at the Ceremony and told her to write her oath, they supposed he would be taking her as his apprentice. But he never said it out loud.

"What have you written in your oaths?" asked Larynthe, shrugging. Sometimes she felt that copying was the safest way out. Especially with the Sith.

"We cannot tell you that, you silly Jedi," laughed Lady Tarralyanna. "The Oaths are never read aloud! The Dark Lord reads them, offering them afterwards to the Dark side. Our Oaths are between the Mighty Dark side and us and they contain very intimate details. I have never heard Tammutyen's, nor has he heard mine. But we were children. We wrote as children would write."

"Just offer him your allegiance, to follow his teachings," said Lady Tarralyanna, musing, "I daresay that would be fitting, do you not?"

"Sort of," said Larynthe.

"Well, it is of the utmost importance that you are sincere and that you say exactly what you feel," she said. "The Dark side despises weakness; but it also despises lies."

"So, I should say why I am really here," said Larynthe, straightening up seriously. "That what I really want is to get back to the light side?"

"If that is what you really want, then yes," interjected Lord Tammutyen in his bass, looking up at her. He had been silent up to now.

"All right," said Larynthe, leaning aback. "Just do not tell me that I did not ask."

"Then, after you have given your Oath," continued Lady Tarralyanna. "You will be given a name."

"A name?" asked Larynthe, gaping.

"Yes," said Lady Tarralyanna. "You have been given names by the Council in the Jedi Temple, yes? It is the same thing, nothing mysterious."

"Er… no, actually," answered Larynthe. "Larynthe really is my name."

"How peculiar," said Lady Tarralyanna, looking aside at Lord Tammutyen, who looked equally stunned. "You bear the same name before and after? I wonder why that book on the Jedi did not say anything about that?"

"Perhaps they thought it was understandable," suggested Larynthe with a laugh.

"You are probably correct," said Lady Tarralyanna, looking at her with approval. Lady Tarralyanna did not at least treat her as a silly ignorant child, like Lord Tammutyen did, thought Larynthe. She would openly laugh at her, but she would just as openly express her admiration or approval. "Our Master gave us names, the ones we bear now, during the Ceremony of Birth. Before that, we were nameless."

"Nameless?" echoed Larynthe.

"Yes, I was called the Girl and Tammutyen the Boy," said Lady Tarralyanna, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Well, we are speculating. We have no idea how this part of your Ceremony will look like, since you are not a child and since you already have a name."

"All right, given a name. What then?" asked Larynthe.

"After that, the Dark Lord might give you something," said Lady Tarralyanna, carefully avoiding to tell Larynthe that she might be branded, because, well, she had no idea whether her Master might do that to her. "A gift."

"What kind of a gift?" asked Larynthe with a dark sense of foreboding. "It has nothing to do with pleasure in pain, does it?"

The two Sith roared with laughter and Larynthe frowned, glancing from one to the other and then looking down on her hands. Her sarcasm often made them react like this – they would find certain things Larynthe said horribly funny, which she would spit out in anger or resentment. But at the same time the two Sith did not find Larynthe's jokes funny.

"Again, we do not know," said Lady Tarralyanna, grinning at her. "But for the sake of an example, for me, it was a ring."

"Ooh, I see," breathed Larynthe with relief. "Jewellery. Well, I have never worn any, but I have nothing against jewellery. I might even be a nice change."

She glanced over her short, stubby fingers, and inclined her head, visualizing a ring. This seemed to comfort her. The Sith told her nothing else. Once she finished her sword and wrapped it in linen, they sent her off to her room to write her Oath.

oooooooooooooooooooooooo

Larynthe paced in her room for some time, wondering how to write this fantastic oath so that she would be sincere, and yet that she would not sound offensive. Suddenly she remembered something that made her pause by the window. She once wrote a beautiful poem, when she managed to smuggle a bottle of Malaskian wine into the Temple and drink a fair amount of it. If she already felt this empty-brained and uninspired, perhaps alcohol would help her. She set off to find Peetah and asked her for a bottle of wine. The old Malaskian hastened to indulge her and as soon as she had a dusty bottle of old, strong wine on her table (the Malaskians were famous for their strong drinks, especially liquors), Larynthe got to work. Pleased, she wondered how this had not occurred to her before. The wine slowed down her frantic thoughts and worries and she felt relaxed and at peace with the world. Sighing, she took her quill and started writing.

"I turn to the Dark side in the twilight of my life. I have been left without hope for life as it once was for me. I yearn for the light side, as I have known it, as it is, and wish to find it through the great Dark side. It is my greatest desire, to feel it again. (She almost wrote 'serve', but held herself back right on time.)

As all that I have known disappeared around me, I have been left without a name; without hope; without the will for life. In the Dark side, I hope to reclaim all of these things and find the light that I have lost. I seek for the truth, for the lost dream, for the yesterday that I hope shall be my tomorrow. I used to be a helper of the people, defender of the weak and oppressed, a loyal friend and a loyal servant of the light side. But my loss has turned me into who I am now and in my current condition I am of no use to any side of the Force.

In the journey toward the realisation of my one and greatest wish, I shall serve the Dark side the best that I can; for the great helper and merciful tutor it would be for me. I oath I shall do all that I can to fulfil its will and serve it to the best of my ability.

Thus I offer my allegiance to the Dark Lord of the Sith; I oath I shall be an obedient student and learn all that he teaches me. Though the path ahead of me is very steep, I have no choice but to climb it."

As she finished writing, she became suddenly aware of how hypocritical and selfish her oath sounded. Thus she added one more sentence:

"Perhaps the Dark side will have some use of me and forgive me for my desire to feel the light side again."

Well, at least the oath was sincere, if nothing else. Actually it felt very liberating to put all of this into words and write it down, after all that time she spent pondering it. She pushed the parchment away from her with a great sense of relief, as though she had brought yet another important decision, but the one that made her feel better, rather than worse. If the Dark side accepts this – preposterous, she thought; the Dark side is the other aspect of the Force, and it does not have eyes, or ears – then she would know that the realisation of her goal was as good as there. She thought about this long and hard and reread her oath many times. But she did not cross anything out and finally she went to bed.

ooooooooooooooooooooo

She was woken the following morning – or what she thought was morning – by an exclamation and a hasty slam of the door. She lazily opened her eyes. Her head felt heavy and the room was spinning around her.

("Heart of Rage!") whispered a voice in Sith with a note of despair. ("Great Abyss!")

"Uh," growled another voice, as though this was all he could say. Larynthe peered toward the door.

Lady Tarralyanna was standing in the doorway, her eyes wide, staring at Larynthe's table and at the almost empty wine bottle. She looked as though she had seen a ghost. Judging by the tone of her voice and her exclamations, Larynthe conjectured that something was out of place. She lifted her head and yawned.

"Wosswron?" she mumbled.

"You have been drinking!" uttered Lady Tarralyanna in hissing Albinian, as though forgetting to switch to Albinian completely. She quickly looked back toward the door as though fearing the Dark Lord might barge in. "On the day of the Ceremony!"

Larynthe sat up, rubbing her eyes. Her head felt indeed very heavy. It was some time before she comprehended what the Sith was talking about. She threw the bed cover aside and stared at Lady Tarralyanna.

"It is today?" she asked, reaching out for her dressing gown. "I was writing my Oath! Wine helped me think! How was I supposed to know?"

("Oh, merciless Darkness, what are we going to do?") hissed Lady Tarralyanna in Sith again. Lord Tammutyen placed a hand on her shoulder and glanced disapprovingly over the content of Larynthe's table.

"Master will not be pleased at all," he growled. "We were supposed to prepare you for the Ceremony."

Now Larynthe realised why they sounded so shocked and looked so afraid – the looks on their faces spoke clearly about how much they feared the Dark Lord.

"I am sorry," she said, suddenly aware what this meant for them – he would punish them severely. "There must be something I can do. I can eat – that would solve the problem. He would not be able to smell the wine then, would he?"

"You fool," breathed Lady Tarralyanna, livid. "The Dark Lord would know! He does not need his nose to know that you have been drinking! You were not supposed to eat today at all, you were supposed to fast until the Ceremony! We came to tell you this! And this ruins right about everything!"

"There is one thing we can do, however, if we cannot turn the time back," said Lord Tammutyen in his bass, staring fixedly at Larynthe. "We can take her to the water garden and have her sweat it out. Few hours should do the trick."

Lady Tarralyanna stared at him for a few moments and then slowly nodded.

"Yes," she said quietly. "That is the only way out. An excellent idea, Tammutyen." The Sith shrugged modestly with his broad shoulders. "Yes, put your bathrobe on. Quickly!"

Larynthe scrambled out of bed and undressed in the bathroom, picking up her bathrobe and putting it on. The Sith were talking quietly when she came back and looked at her as though she was the source of all of their troubles. And she probably was, it occurred to her, remembering the shock she heard in Lady Tarralyanna's voice when she first came in.

Lady Tarralyanna beckoned her with an air of impatience. Already sweating in an effort to keep up with the two Sith, Larynthe asked herself why she was supposed to fast that day. It sounded awfully like some kind of sacrifice, she thought, running corridor after corridor after the two Sith, who no longer bothered to use words to speak to each other – she could feel the Dark side flashing between them as they exchanged their thoughts.

"In here," whispered Lady Tarralyanna, opening a small wooden door at the side of the corridor, casting an aside glance and reaching out with the Dark side, obviously probing for the presence of the Dark Lord, after what she nodded at Lord Tammutyen. Larynthe darted in without a word and found herself in the same strange solarium she saw the two of them kiss the other day. It is already infernally hot in here, she thought, looking around herself. Lady Tarralyanna impatiently grabbed her hand and dragged her off to an artificially made cave, pushing her inside. It would have been terribly interesting and fascinating if Larynthe was not in trouble and anxious to get out of it, both for her sake and for theirs. Lady Tarralyanna did not mind her robes were all wet, as she had been walking through the water, and started fumbling with the fountain which occupied the middle of the cave. There was a bench which ran all around the cave and as small as the cave was, it was perfectly comfortable and very… well, romantic.

A cloud of smoke rose from the fountain and now Larynthe realised that Lady Tarralyanna lit a fire which was hidden in the depths of the fountain. It painted the walls of the cave an eerie shade of red and Larynthe took a few deep breaths, trying to ascertain herself that everything would be all right and that she would not faint. The Sith knew what they were doing – because this time they were in trouble along with her.

"Take off your bathrobe," Lady Tarralyanna ordered her. The fire already began to emit unbearable waves of heat. Larynthe stared at her, as though she could not believe her ears and glanced toward the stately figure of Lord Tammutyen, who was leaning over the entrance to the cave and staring at her with a serious look on his pale face.

"Can I be alone, Lady Tarralyanna, please?" Larynthe said quietly, looking in Lord Tammutyen's direction, who lifted an eyebrow. Lady Tarralyanna looked up, realising what was troubling her and waving in his direction. He snorted and disappeared from sight. Larynthe quickly untied her bathrobe, set it aside and stared at Lady Tarralyanna, who was still fumbling with the fire. At long last, she straightened up and looked at her.

"Now stay here," she said firmly. "Stay until your heart begins to beat too fast. Then you can go and dip yourself in cold water, over there by the windows. But then you must come back to the cave. This is for your good, too, because if you showed up with alcohol in your blood for the Ceremony, the Dark Lord would not have been pleased at all. You do not want to make him angry."

Larynthe swallowed, deciding to follow her instructions to the letter.

"We must go after our usual duties," said Lady Tarralyanna. "But we shall come to check on you as soon as we are done. It is important that you drink a lot of water. That will both help your detoxification process, as it will prevent dehydration. Now, do as I told you and for Darkness' sake, stay out of trouble."

She swept out of the cave, her wet cloak dragging over the surface of the ankle-deep water. Larynthe heard her talk to lord Tammutyen, the hissing and gurgling amplified by the acoustics of the water garden. Soon they left her alone.

Poor Larynthe remained in the cave, sweating like a pig, coming out only when she thought she would faint. With her heart hammering in her throat she jumped in the pool with cold water. Already the following moment she screamed and scrambled out – the water was ice-cold. She spent perhaps three hours alternating between sitting in the stifling hot cave and the throwing herself into the pool with cold water. As she was already considering what to do if the Sith forgot all about her, there was a slam of the door and she looked up.

"Jedi Larynthe?" whispered a voice in Albinian. It was Lord Tammutyen. He was not visible, though, and he was obviously standing beside the cave, remembering that she did not want to undress in front of him.

"I am still here," she answered in a shaky voice.

"You may come out now," he said.

With a sigh of relief, Larynthe draped the bathrobe over her shoulders, and, tying it around her waist, she wobbled out, her wet hair adhering to her face. Lord Tammutyen was standing in the water and he glanced over her with a serious expression on his face. He was still wearing his training clothes.

"Do you feel dizzy?" he asked.

"A little," she answered, surprised with this question which clearly indicated he was concerned about her.

"Weak on your feet?" he asked again, glancing over her shamelessly.

It occurred to Larynthe that perhaps he really did not know the meaning of shame, when it came to nudity. If they grew up with each other and had no idea what shame was, perhaps he could not understand why she did not want to undress in front of him. She nodded.

"You need air. Let us go," he said, turning away from her and heading for the door.

"Where are we going?" she asked in a whisper as soon as they found themselves in the quiet corridor of the Sith Temple, his boots dripping with water and emitting squelching sounds as he walked.

"To your chambers, of course," he said. "Peetah is waiting for you. She shall help you get ready."

"Oh," said Larynthe, trotting after him. "Could you please slow down, Lord Tammutyen? I do not feel well."

He did so, snorting and looking up to the ceiling, annoyed. But Larynthe was too preoccupied with her own troubles to care about his annoyance.

"Now," he said as he opened the door to her chambers. Peetah stood up as he entered and bowed her head. "You shall do everything Peetah says. She knows very well what to do. One of us shall come to fetch you when it is time. You shall bring your sword with you, and your Oath. But nothing more. Do you understand?"

"Perfectly, Lord Tammutyen," Larynthe said, sitting down on her bed and rubbing her eyes.

"Good," he said, glancing around the room with his cigar in his teeth and then resolutely heading back toward the door, which closed behind him with a loud snap. Larynthe looked at the old Malaskian woman, who, to her great surprise, was silently crying.

"Do I smell like wine, Peetah?" she asked the old woman as she bustled around her. Peetah brought her a chair to sit by the fire so that her hair could dry more quickly.

"No, miss Jedi," said Peetah. Then she let out a whimper. "It is all my fault! I have brought you the wine!"

She broke into sobs, getting to her feet and swaying toward the table, picking up a large wooden brush.

"Oh, Peetah, we had no idea," said Larynthe, overwhelmed with sympathy for the old woman, "They did not know, either. It was only this morning they found out that the ceremony would be performed today. But, for what it is worth, your wine helped me write something very good. And I am glad I drank it."

ooooooooooooooo

An hour later, Larynthe was standing naked in the middle of the room, while the Malaskian woman smeared pink paste over her body and rubbed it in. Larynthe did not feel awkward for being naked in front of her, because Peetah reminded her of a caring mother or an aunt. She looked toward the bundle which was resting on her bedside. It was the sword she made, and one she forged in sweat and pain. Compared to her Jalá sword, it was her best work yet, a masterpiece, she thought. In a few hours, she would finally go to this magnificent ceremony and be done with it, and hopefully, start learning. Why was all this necessary, she asked herself for the umpteenth time? Why do I need to smell like a cloud of perfume? At least it explained why the Sith always smelled as though they poured ten different perfumes over themselves.

"Here, dear," said the old woman tearfully, carrying a bundle of black material and carefully putting it on the table.

"What is that?" asked Larynthe.

"Your… sad'khai," sobbed the Malaskian, sniffing. "Lady Tarralyanna told me to make one for you."

"My what?" asked Larynthe.

"The traditional Sith robes," explained Peetah, as though not believing that Larynthe did not know what a sad'khai was. "You are going to be… a Sith! Oh, forgive the old, sentimental woman… But I am so glad for you, miss Jedi."

Peetah had grown very fond of the conversational, friendly Jedi who was always in the mood for talk and who appreciated her cuisine, praising her for trying – and succeeding – to make Larynthe's favourite dishes.

"Glad?" echoed Larynthe, watching her pick something up that resembled a shirt. "I thought you would feel sorry for me."

"Sorry?" asked the Malaskian, pulling the shirt over her head and dexterously tying the strings behind her back. "He… shall teach you and look after you. His power is immeasurable. He has been very strict with my Lady and her Lord brother, but he would not have been if he did not expect great things from them. Yes, he knew they would grow up to be very powerful and very wise, and he did not spare them."

"Is that is why he throws daggers at them?" asked Larynthe bitterly, looking at the pair of trousers the old woman was carrying.

"They are his students," the Malaskian whispered in a fearful voice. "You must not talk nonsense, child. Your Jedi Order cannot be compared to HIM." She waved off dismissively. "The Dark side is strong with you, I know it. And you have been destined to come here. This is your home, child."

"I am sure of it," she added, tapping Larynthe on the shoulder and picking up a pair of boots, which were obviously meant for Larynthe.

Larynthe could not believe her ears. She had many pleasant conversations with the old Malaskian, but she never expected her to talk like that about the Sith or about the Dark side. Suddenly, Larynthe was tingly with anticipation, and she was very, very curious.

ooooooooooooooooooooooo

Her hair now straight and dry, wearing the strange black clothes which was surprisingly comfortable and simple black boots, Larynthe was sitting on her bed and talking to Peetah. Her stomach had given up on growling as it obviously realised that she would not eat anything no matter what. The caffeine withdrawal and fasting, atop of her long sweating session, made Larynthe feel weak on her feet and strangely feather-brained. She was perfumed, her nails were clean, and she felt like a walking flower. It was not that Larynthe did not like to smell pleasantly; but she felt that this was just too much. The door finally opened and Peetah nervously sprang to her feet.

"It is time," Lord Tammutyen announced, peering through the doorway, as though thinking Larynthe might be naked. That was awfully thoughtful of him, she thought as she got to her feet, picking up her sword and her rolled up oath. Lady Tarralyanna must have explained it to him. Peetah let out a muffled sob as she watched her follow the broad-shouldered Sith into the corridor and Larynthe turned to smile at her from the doorway. Lord Tammutyen was walking very slowly this time, perhaps even too slowly for Larynthe's present state of mind. She found the long, black cloak a bit too long, as it was dragging over the floor. However, she remembered that the two Sith always wore their cloaks that long. It must be some kind of a tradition.

Lord Tammutyen lead the way, not looking at her, and finally paused before a large iron double door on the first floor. There were no other doors in that corridor, which looked just like any other corridor in the Temple. He glanced over Larynthe and drank in her appearance. The corner of his mouth twitched in an effort not to smile. He nodded at her. Larynthe on the other hand now had the chance to see what he was wearing. He was wearing the exact same thing, only in a different size. However, instead of a sword, this time there was a long dagger a with beautiful bejewelled hilt sticking out of his belt.

He opened the door for her and Larynthe nervously stepped inside. As soon as she entered the chamber, her nostrils detected a strong, spicy and alluring scent. The door snapped shut behind her as Lord Tammutyen came inside. Larynthe was pretty certain that the hall she was standing in was huge, judging by her echoing footsteps, but all she could see was a small fire dancing in a black, shallow bowl which was hanging from the ceiling.

("Who are you?") boomed a voice from the shadows. Larynthe jumped and it took her a few moments before she understood what the voice just asked her.

("The seeker of the lost light,") she answered in Sith. She wrote down this sentence and learned it by heart. The pronunciation was still giving her a headache, but she did her best to pronounce it as Lady Tarralyanna did.

("Come forward,") spoke the same voice. Larynthe understood and made a pace forward, with Lord Tammutyen following her closely, but stopping when she stopped.

Now Larynthe could make out the dim outlines of a throne at the bottom of the room, and saw Lady Tarralyanna, who was standing well away from it with her hands crossed before her, wearing her sad'khai as well. Her eyes were glinting in this almost complete darkness with anticipation, as she watched Larynthe come closer. Larynthe suddenly felt silly wearing those Sith robes which did not suit her and which, in her opinion, made her look ridiculous. On Lady Tarralyanna, tall and lean, the sad'khai looked very fitting and it emphasised her figure. It made Lord Tammutyen look even stronger than he was and gave him the appearance of a dangerous warrior. On Larynthe, it simply looked strange and funny. But she puffed up her chest, determined to make it through this ceremony.

"I am the Dark Lord of the Sith," Lord Tammutyen began to translate quietly into her ear. Larynthe felt his breath on her cheek and shuddered as she listened to the Sith version first, filling in the holes with the Albinian one. "I am the black abyss that swallows the cowardly; I am the merciless hand which smites down all who stand in its way; I am the Heart of Rage, the Sea of Darkness, the only Star in the starless Night; the mighty thunder rising from the deep, destroying sea, mountain and land; the unyielding flame, persevering against storm and wind, against time and decay, reaching out toward the vast, black heavens, stretching out its arms toward the endlessness of eternity."

Larynthe listened with her heart beating very fast. It was a poem, but such a fear-inspiring poem which made her dizzy and faint with dread. If she was not afraid before, she was now. Lord Tammutyen fell silent as the Dark Lord made a pause.

"The Dark side is a bottomless well of power and strength," spoke the voice from the shadows. "It is a merciless master and a powerful ally, a mentor who is a source of ancient knowledge and wisdom. But there is a price to pay in order to be accepted by it; there is an oath to be given for such Greatness to ever listen to the petty voice of a human being. Are you ready, seeker of the lost light, to pay this price, and to give this oath?"

Larynthe lingered a moment, the question taking her by surprise, as she thought that there would be a whole lot more said. I have already written my oath, she thought, looking down at it and thinking whether she was supposed to hand it in now.

("I am ready,") she answered, uncertain how to address this person who spoke. Luckily, he spared her the trouble of racking her brains by speaking again.

"I am the eyes of the Dark side, its ears and its fingers," Lord Tammutyen translated as the voice spoke on, echoing through the vast hall, making Larynthe's hair stand on end. "I shall, therefore, be the judge of your soul. Come forward and show me your weapon, seeker."

Larynthe was prompted to walk by Lord Tammutyen's finger, with which he poked her hard in the back. She made a few paces toward the throne, all the while wondering whether she might trip over something. Slowly she advanced toward the throne until she found herself at the foot of a short flight of stairs. There she knelt down, thinking it was for the best, and held up her sword. She heard a rustle of robes as someone got up and she felt the sword being lifted from her hands and taken away. She did not dare get to her feet yet.

"And did you find this phrase, which you have engraved on the blade, seeker?" asked the voice in Albinian from somewhere above her.

"I have seen it in my vision," answered Larynthe, avoiding to admit that she had no idea what it meant.

"You do not know what it means?" the voice asked the question she was dreading.

"No," said Larynthe, feeling quite stupid.

"'And all you who seek for power to gain wealth and pursue your egoistic goals,'" quoted the voice solemnly, "'you shall fall by my hand and kneel before the one true power in the Universe, you shall see my Rage and feel it on your skin.' A quote from the Sith Code."

Larynthe understood with a painful pang why this was quoted and got a strong urge to run, but her legs would not move.

"'Darkness is my home', speaks your sword for you, seeker," said the voice softly, as though impressed. Larynthe froze. How was this possible? That she would write something like this on her sword, without knowing what it meant, without checking it. And how did she know? She did not know that much Sith that she would be able to think of a phrase like that.

"Your M'Hoor has been accepted," said the voice after a pause during which Larynthe was feverishly thinking and bathing in cold sweat. "Now you shall give in your Oath."

Larynthe extended her trembling hand with the scroll in it and felt it being taken away from her as well. There was a long pause as the Dark Lord was reading, and at length, she heard him rolling it up and putting it away, indicating he was done.

("You have seen this seeker come to you, o Mighty, Great Dark side,") called the Dark Lord in a powerful voice, spreading his arms. ("Now state your judgement – do you accept her?")

Silence fell on the hall. Larynthe waited, thinking it was merely a phrase, a bit of drama, until she felt something envelop her. Many voices, many cold, blood-chilling voices, swirled around her, boring their way into her head; she could not make out any words and they merely felt like cobwebs, dragging over her skin, making it crawl, filling her with dread. Unable to bear it, she buried her head in her hands.

"Thus you perceive Darkness now," said the Dark Lord as the presences started fading away. The little bit of light which was solemnly glowing until then vanished, leaving them in complete darkness. "And thus you shall perceive Darkness from this moment onwards, sincere seeker."

She heard a pace on the marble floor and felt a hand extend toward her. And before she knew it, she felt a rush of power, which spilled over her like a wave and deprived her of air due to its strength and magnitude. She closed her eyes instantly, fighting for breath, her whole body shaking, and intuitively used her Force senses. She saw a fountain of indescribable power standing right before her, glowing like a dark sun in the space around her. In this moment Larynthe felt alive, truly alive, after all those months of living in a stupor; strength and power filled her and Larynthe felt the urge to explode with it.

"You cannot be my apprentice," said the Dark Lord softly. "But you can be my student. You shall be of the Sith and a part of the new current which I have started here many years ago."

"You have felt the power of the Dark side," the Dark Lord went on. "You have sworn your Oath before it and it has accepted you. Now I shall accept you. You shall be my student and your life shall belong to me; you shall obey me, always, no matter what, in life, in death, in your sleep. In return, I shall guide you in the Dark side, as now you are blind and deaf, teach you and protect you. Be loyal to me and fulfil your duties; and Darkness shall become your home."

"Your life ceased the moment you have put on the traditional clothes of the servants of Darkness. We wear black, the colour of Darkness, for in Darkness we are born; in its immeasurable power we live and use it to execute the will of the Dark side; and in its soft bowels we shall take our rest, our disembodied wills darting and flashing through the world, existing beyond space and time, beyond flesh and blood," the Dark Lord spoke. "Let you now assume another name, nameless seeker. Tyananna."

Larynthe listened carefully. She did not like the name; she thought it was rather formidable, complicated, that it was the name of someone or something she feared.

"Lord Tammutyen," said the Dark Lord quietly. Footsteps were audible and a quiet exchange of a few words in Sith followed. "Give me your right hand, my student."

Larynthe lifted up her hand, not looking up, thinking that she would be given a ring. But she did not see what the Dark Lord was holding in his hand. A few paces away, Lady Tarralyanna was bating her breath, staring at the same poker with which her Master branded her when she was a child with an air of anticipation. She naturally expected Larynthe to scream. Lord Tammutyen, predictably, was staring at the kneeling figure of the Jedi with a glowing expression of pleasure.

Larynthe did scream; and her scream made her feel as though it was going to splice up her head in two. The Dark Lord pressed the poker deep into her skin, holding her fist with an iron grip, for her not to wrench her hand away, his expression pitiless, his thin lips straight and unsmiling. The scent of burnt flesh spread quickly through the hall, whereas Lord Tammutyen stared down at Larynthe, his eyes glinting, awaiting an order like a vulture. As the hot iron got right down to Larynthe's bone, the Dark Lord lifted the poker. Larynthe fell down on the ground, clutching at her arm, her mind swimming. She cursed herself for her stupidity.

"The life of a Sith is pain," spoke the now distancing voice of the Dark Lord. "In pain, we learn about ourselves; we learn about our faults and our fears, and all that we need to denounce in order to become more powerful and wiser. But through enduring pain, we also show our readiness for the trials of the soul; we show our courage and our loyalty. Let this little bit of pain serve as a reminder of whom is it that you shall serve, which shall remain on your skin as long as you live. I am the Dark Lord and your Master; I am merciless and unforgiving, and I do not tolerate disobedience and laziness."

"Lift up your glance," he said quietly. Larynthe managed to jerk her head up, still cradling her arm. She felt angry and the Dark side rushed to her, attracted to such an inhuman amount of anger. She felt something being passed over her head, and then lowered down on her chest gently. She looked down quickly, alarmed, thinking that it was something else that would inflict her pain. But, it was a locket. A heavy, beautiful, silver locket. The following moment, her left hand was lifted and she felt a ring being slipped on her ring finger. Now she understood – Lady Tarralyanna was forbidden to tell her about the branding and only told her about the ring.

"Rise, Tyananna," said the Dark Lord, walking away from her and sitting down on his throne again. Larynthe got to her feet shakily, still cradling her arm. "Your Birth is complete. You may shake hands with your sister and brother."

And now Larynthe understood. Brother and sister in the Dark side, she thought, glancing around herself quickly, spotting the tall, lean figure of Lady Tarralyanna approaching her soundlessly from the shadows. She looked at her oddly, resentment showing in every line of her face; but then she extended her hand to her. After a moment of lingering, Larynthe took it. The cold fingers of the Sith enveloped her fist, squeezing it well, as though she was hoping to squash it. Larynthe felt being pulled toward her and found herself being embraced by the thin Sith, who tapped her on the back.

"M'Thaath (my sister)," she said softly, nodding at her and then moving away, before Larynthe could note what was going on. Everything was happening too fast for her to be able to actually partake in it. Larynthe stared stupidly at her, feeling her hand being gripped again. The coldness of Lady Tarralyanna's hand was nothing compared to the coldness of Lord Tammutyen, who, to Larynthe's touch, felt like a rotting corpse. Larynthe would have withdrawn her hand, mortified, but he was holding it too firmly. His pale face seemed to be shining with whiteness which contrasted his black robes, and in the dark, his head looked as though floating in mid-air. He hauled her toward himself so hard she barely managed to stay on foot and locked her in a not so gentle embrace. His hands enveloped her like an octopus, and he tapped her on the back as well, though his 'tapping' made Larynthe cough.

"M'Thaath," he said as well in his bass and moved away.

Larynthe was too preoccupied with these strange expressions of welcome to note where the Dark Lord was. When she looked toward the throne, she saw that he was gone.

("Come,") said Lady Tarralyanna quietly to Larynthe. ("Let us go.")

They led her out in the corridor, where Larynthe gasped at the sight of the two fires burning before the entrance. She had remained in the dark for too long, she thought, rubbing her eyes.

"There will be a whole lot more of that," Lord Tammutyen laughed appreciatively. "Get used to it."

"What… happened?" asked Larynthe quietly. Lady Tarralyanna was eyeing her with interest, her sapphire eyes glinting.

"You have passed your Ceremony of Birth well enough," she said quietly. "The Dark side has accepted you. Can you not feel it?"

Larynthe took a deep breath and then checked. The Dark side which she had been sensing throughout the past few months was replaced by a vibrating, booming presence of power, all around her, everywhere. It was no longer a torrent of horrible voices, impressions slashing through her mind like thousand knives, or horrible images. It was somehow… tamer. And it filled her with strange strength. She looked up in amazement.

"This is how it feels?" she asked, astonished. The two Sith exchanged smirks and led her down the corridor. Accepted as a student or not, they thought, she did not lose her sense of humour. "No, I have just been standing in the dark for too long," she muttered to herself, at what the Sith started laughing.

With a pang, Larynthe was reminded of what happened by the throbbing pain in her forearm and she halted, drawing back the sleeve of her cloak. She nearly fainted. Her skin was deformed and her whole forearm was bleeding, so that it was impossible to see the actual branding mark.

"It will heal with time," remarked Lady Tarralyanna.

"I shall lend you my Gurgroot paste," growled Lord Tammutyen, eyeing Larynthe's forearm with fascination. "It will ease the process of healing."

"Now, come," said Lord Tammutyen, gripping Larynthe under her arm. "We shall take you to your chambers."

"But…" mumbled Larynthe, feeling quite helpless as the monumental Sith dragged her further down the corridor. "I live the other way! There!"

She was pointing a hand in the direction of the Northern Wing, whereas the two Sith shook their heads, exchanging smirks.

"Not any more," said Lady Tarralyanna.

"Peetah has prepared new chambers for you," spoke Lady Tarralyanna as she led her down the corridor of the Western Wing, heading for the stairs. Larynthe's new chambers were on the second floor, they knew that, because they heard sounds coming from upstairs, as furniture was being dragged inside and moved around the rooms. The door which had been locked until now were now wide open and the three of them stepped inside.

"You will get used to the heating system in Temple," said Lady Tarralyanna, examining the torches. "It is very effective. Oh, look, Peetah managed it after all… I told her to make new clothes for you, so that you would have at least something to start with, but I did not believe she had time for it, with preparations and all."

She approached a pile of clothes stacked neatly in an open closet. Larynthe followed her, still feeling as though she was dreaming.

"She knows what you like, I suppose," said Lady Tarralyanna, glancing over a shirt which Peetah made for Larynthe with distaste, looking slightly disappointed. But, of course, she thought, tastes differ. Larynthe stared at it for a moment and then sat down on a tripod, her hands hanging between her knees. All of this had been too much for her.

"What is wrong?" asked Lady Tarralyanna, coming over to her after examining her wardrobe. Lord Tammutyen had disappeared in the bathroom, eager to see it for himself. "Do you feel unwell?"

Larynthe looked at her. There was a definite change in Lady Tarralyanna's attitude toward her. Now she was looking at her with friendliness she had seen on her face only when she was talking to Lord Tammutyen.

"What have I done?" whispered Larynthe, feeling as though someone had dropped a block of ice into her stomach. "What have I become?"

"You are unwell," remarked Lady Tarralyanna, glancing over her and feeling her forehead with her cold hand. Larynthe allowed this, feeling emotionally numb. "Even for an Albinian and a former Jedi, I reckon you are a bit too warm."

"Tammutyen," Lady Tarralyanna called loudly. There was a muffled answer from the bathroom. "Could you go and fetch your fever paste? I daresay Tyananna needs it."

"Oh, Holy Force, what have I done?" whispered Larynthe, her chest trembling as she finally realised what happened. She was a Sith. Before she knew what she was doing she threw herself at Lady Tarralyanna, who slowly embraced her back. Her whole body trembled as she cried.

"If it brings you any comfort," Lady Tarralyanna whispered into her ear. "You have done the only thing you could have done."

Larynthe sobbed her heart out on her shoulder, not really caring about what was happening around her, and the Sith held her patiently, tapping her gently on the back. Lady Tarralyanna made a study of human emotions and she tracked down Larynthe's quickly enough. Proud of this accomplishment, she smiled to herself and comforted the shaking fallen Jedi.

Once Lord Tammutyen was back with a whole pot of paste, Lady Tarralyanna smeared it all over Larynthe's forehead, hands and neck and cleaned her branding mark with a wet towel.

"I suggest bed," she said, glancing over Larynthe and putting the pot with paste aside. "And do not try to eat. That will only make things worse. Draw up the curtains in her bedroom, Tammutyen, please."

As Larynthe was led into the bedroom, she could not see a thing. It was in complete darkness. Larynthe felt Lady Tarralyanna lift up a hand and the torches came alive one by one, beginning to emit welcome, powerful waves of heat, though their flames were not visible.

"Now go to bed," said Lady Tarralyanna, getting to her feet and giving her one last reassuring tap on the back. "That is by far the best thing you can do now."

Larynthe stared at her, at loss for words. Their manners, the way they treated her now… There must be a catch there somewhere, she thought.

"No catch, Tyananna," whispered Lady Tarralyanna, seizing Lord Tammutyen around the waist. "You are a Sith now and this changes everything. Do not forget that."

("Good night, Tyananna,") called Lord Tammutyen in Sith from the doorway, before Lady Tarralyanna dragged him out. She could hear them walk toward the entrance door and she heard it close with a gentle click. Silence fell on her chambers and for a long while Larynthe could not move. She simply sat there, staring at the place where Lady Tarralyanna had been standing a few moments ago, her brain empty and numb.