Warning for body horror sprinkled liberally throughout this chapter.
Also: I'm in the midst of reading Thrawn: Ascendancy. I highly recommend the entire Thrawn trilogy and this new one - if you haven't read it (or listened to it - holy moly, the audiobook versions are amazing), you're missing out, it's some insane quality content.
For those of you who haven't read the Thrawn books, here's the context you need for the Now (MINOR SPOILERS FOR THRAWN: ALLIANCES AND THRAWN: TREASON):
The Chiss rely on navigators - Force-sensitive Chiss females - to guide them through their hyperspace routes. The way the Force works with the Chiss is strange - only young girls have the ability of foresight (and sometimes telepathy), and it usually disappears by the age of 14. The Cheunh term for "Navigator" is "ozyly-esehembo"- which translates directly to sky-walker.
Another plot point: because of this AU, Thrawn has not yet encountered Anakin Skywalker.
Then.
The trees of Dathomir cast long shadows with their branches. They stretch across the sky in a haphazard pattern, forming a jagged canopy that looms high over their heads.
The moment Ahsoka steps off the ship, the branches twitch, stretching ever so slightly to turn towards her with reaching, spidery fingers. She smiles. Of course they're reaching towards her - she's Light. She's life.
Behind her, her masters step off the ship as well. Anakin's body merges with each shadow cast by the branches, making his body look half-formed at best; a strange, twisted caricature of a half-human. It doesn't really look like he's walking - Ahsoka thinks his movements look far too smooth for that. Humans always have a certain way of walking - there's always a slight up-down motion of their bodies every time their feet strike the ground. But with Anakin, there isn't even the slightest bit of that. Just a strange, continuous forward motion.
If she looks at his face, she thinks that it would scare most people with how it only looks half-formed, like a body with pale skin and a mouth slashing through its cheeks with its head half-bashed in. Only his head isn't really bashed in - it's just partially formed of incorporeal shadow.
As for Obi-Wan, the part of Ahsoka that's still a regular Togruta thinks it's almost humorous how he seems to glide rather than walk. His legs are completely dissolved into a blue-green mist that occasionally swirls to form a semblance of human legs before coalescing into a shapeless cloud again.
It would be funny if it didn't look so wrong. Her masters don't look human at all.
And she doesn't care. She's not afraid - she accepts it, because she knows she doesn't look Togruta at all. She knows that when they look at her, they see something that's not right.
"You look upset," Anakin tells Obi-Wan. His voice sounds all strange, as if his normal voice is layered with the voice of the Son and something else, except Ahsoka can't quite catch those other sounds. They're there, but they're just at the edge of her hearing, making it easy for her to think that she's imagined it.
Obi-Wan is looking downwards, frowning at the mist which should be making up his legs, but isn't. "Well, I do seem to have an unfortunate amount of trouble remembering what a normal body should feel like."
Anakin laughs, and so does Ahsoka. Anakin's laugh is sharp and harsh and a tad too cold to sound like him. "It's alright, Master," Anakin teases. "The fading memory comes with the age."
"Yeah. You're getting old, Master Kenobi," Ahsoka adds, and both she and Anakin laugh again when Obi-Wan turns to her with a betrayed look.
"Of all the padawans to be saddled with, it had to be you two," he grumbles, and Anakin slings an arm of shadow around Obi-Wan's half-dissolved shoulders. It works, strangely, the shadow mingling with the blue-green to turn it into a muddled colour where they make contact.
"Admit it, you wouldn't know what to do without us." Anakin's smile is too wide, his teeth too sharp and gleaming, yet Obi-Wan looks at it, completely unfazed, with the same amount of fond exasperation as he always does. "Right, Snips?"
"Of course," Ahsoka laughs again, and a part of her marvels at how it sounds entirely unlike her. The laughter rings like bells across the forest, making the trees shift as they straighten at the sound.
It's not her laughter. It sounds absolutely nothing like her, and it should scare her.
It doesn't.
The walk to the Nightsister coven is a short one. They spend half of it bantering as if there's nothing amiss, the other half in a contemplative silence. While his padawans are bickering, Obi-Wan takes a moment to observe the changes within them as well as the ones within himself. Clearly, the Force on Dathomir has affected them in some way, uncovering their… true presences, for lack of better term.
He wonders how the Nightsisters will receive them. He wonders if Asajj Ventress will be there, and he takes a moment to savor her potential reaction.
"Master Kenobi?"
Ahsoka's voice pulls him out of his thoughts. Obi-Wan glances at her quizzically, and she looks pointedly at his torso. He looks down.
"Ah." He looks back up, and carefully moves to the side. He'd been half-inside a tree and he hadn't noticed. "Thank you."
"That's the fourth tree you've walked through," Anakin notes. He says it almost casually, as if it's something that's perfectly normal. He raises his hand, pointing towards some of the low-hanging pods which are strung up on the branches of the trees up ahead. "I wouldn't want to walk through those if I were you."
Obi-Wan dips his head. "Of course not."
He knows what's in the pods. The information in the Temple archives had detailed how all deceased Nightsisters were buried in such pods near the coven. What's more, though many of them are long dead - perhaps centuries old, even - he can still sense the way the Force moves through them, sickly and slowly and with a carefully manipulated coldness. The thought of him passing unknowingly through the graves of the dead sisters not only makes him shudder - it makes him feel guilty. It would be very disrespectful, after all - it is one thing to walk over someone's grave, and another to walk straight through it.
They pass through the pods in silence, respectfully keeping a distance.
Something twitches at the edge of his vision. He looks over sharply and sees nothing there, but a slight chill runs through his back. After they've passed the fifth pod, he speaks out. "The pods should be filled with bodies."
Anakin raises an eyebrow. "They are."
They walk past another pod, and Obi-Wan's reason for speaking becomes clear when something inside the pod twitches and nudges the linens in an attempt to move closer to them. The lining of the pod does not break, but Obi-Wan is certain that there are bodies inside that are moving.
"It's because of me," Ahsoka says nonchalantly. They turn to face her. The unnatural glow coming from her skin bathes the area around them with a white-gold hue, making her difficult to look at directly. "The Light is waking them up. I'm not pushing enough energy to fully awaken them, but it's enough to make them move a little."
She looks completely unfazed at the prospect of accidentally making the dead reawaken.
(Through their training bond, Obi-Wan can sense that she really isn't afraid at all, and it makes him worry. It's not right. She doesn't even seem interested - just too calm. Too serene. Too peaceful.)
A sudden spike of fear, carefully controlled but present, alerts Obi-Wan to several presences ahead. He turns to the entrance of the coven to see Mother Talzin and a couple of sisters flanking her only a short ways away. One of the sisters is robed in red; the other in black, with two familiar twin lightsabers at her belt.
Asajj Ventress.
Behind Obi-Wan, he senses Ahsoka's emotions darken in a protective, vengeful anger just as he hears Anakin growl "Ventress" in a threatening tone. Before they can move, Obi-Wan throws out a hand, holding them back with the blue-green mist.
"Let us not be hasty," he quietly reminds them. Ahsoka complies immediately, her anger dissipating back into the strange calmness, whereas Anakin pushes against the blue-green mist for a few moments before he, too, relents. "The Council has agreed to leave her alone only on this planet provided that she does not attack us. And I sense no malice from her."
There definitely isn't any malice at all. Instead, as they approach, though Ventress' face is hidden by a cloth mask, Obi-Wan can sense the sharp fear that murmurs around her in the Force. When he and his padawans finally arrive at an acceptable distance to speak with the Nightsisters, Mother Talzin bows low, bending at the waist, while the two sisters at her side drop to their knees.
"Great Ones," she greets, "you honor us with your presence."
In the Force, Obi-Wan can sense Anakin's glee at Ventress' terror and deference.
"It is the Will of the Force that we were the Jedi who were sent to aid you in defending your home," Obi-Wan says in return. He pushes aside feelings of discomfort at their submission - as a general, he knows well enough when to use an advantage if necessary. "You may rise."
The Nightsisters straighten up and stand. Only Mother Talzin dares to meet Obi-Wan's eyes. "We do not have much time. Your arrival has strengthened our magicks and our abilities of divination." Her eyes wander to Ahsoka's form, then to behind her back, where the wings of white-gold shimmer, nearly invisible to the naked eye. Talzin's eyes then flicker to Anakin. "Dooku wishes to pull another trick. His attack will arrive one week earlier than anticipated - we have but two rotations to prepare."
Anakin smirks, the expression horrifying on a face where the mouth stretches from ear to ear. "Good," he laughs, and the Nightsisters flinch at the sharp edge of his tone. "I don't like waiting."
Mother Talzin smiles then, and Obi-Wan is strongly reminded of why she is the clan Mother. Even Ventress, a powerful Force user in her own right, pales in comparison to the power he senses in Talzin. As if sensing his thoughts, Talzin turns to him, a grateful smile on her lips with a hardened glint in her eyes. "Your very presence will aid us greatly in our fight against Dooku's minions," she says, and had Obi-Wan still been fully human, he would have shuddered.
But he's not. So instead he offers her a smile, and they make their way inside to begin preparations.
There's something very funny in the air of Dathomir. Merrin's mother had sensed it, and Merrin herself had too. She's only twelve, her magick still undeveloped, but there's something deep inside her that makes her blood sing.
Maybe it's the Jedi? Mama had told her that the Jedi would arrive soon, and that they would look and feel different than the Nightsisters and brothers.
Strange. She can feel the Jedi approaching. Looking around to ensure that no one is looking, Merrin sneaks off. She wants to see what's so special about them. And she can take care of herself- she's twelve. She may not be able to wield her magicks yet, but she has a blade with her that has taken down multiple dangerous creatures during the hunt. She can take care of herself.
It doesn't take long before Mama notices. "Merrin!" She calls out, and Merrin rolls her eyes. Her mother is overprotective. It isn't like the Jedi will harm her. And she's in the coven! No one will harm her.
"Merrin!" Mama calls again, sounding frustrated this time. Ooh, not good. Merrin moves quickly. She just wants a glimpse of the Jedi before the battle, and it will be worth it.
She runs through the halls, ducking into hallways and passages as she's led by a strong feeling in her gut. Behind her, she can hear the approaching voice of her mother. "Merrin, come back here this instant!"
Then something goes wrong. Merrin looks back and sees Mama's angry face, and she missteps, falling into the next hallway. When she stands, she's looking into the face of Mother Talzin and two of the sisters, and beside them stand three others - one with glowing skin of white-gold, one with a body that seems half-collapsed in shadow, and one who seems partially dissolved into mist. Merrin's mind skids to a halt, her brain freezing, and her tongue moves before she can even think.
"You don't look much like the Jedi I imagined," she says, then her brain catches up, and she wants to stab herself in the face.
Chssk. Chssk, chssk, chssk, she'd just insulted-
Mama catches up to her, her hair sticking to her forehead with sweat, and she runs into the hall. "Merrin! What-"
And she sees who else is there, and her face pales drastically as she falls to her knees. "Great Ones! Mother!"
Merrin quickly kneels, her face bowed forward as her cheeks burn. She'd completely messed up. She'd insulted the gods. "I'm sorry, Great Ones," she chokes out. Tears sting her eyes and she forces herself to hold them in - they won't do her any good. "I wasn't thinking, I didn't mean-"
Mama interrupts her, her voice shaking more than Merrin has ever heard it, and it only serves to make her feel worse. "Please, have mercy, she's only a child. I will gladly take responsibility-"
Then one of the gods laughs, the sound like the singing of bells, and despite herself, Merrin can't help but look up in wonder.
It's the Winged Goddess. Her eyes are stunning, the colour of pure magick, and although Merrin can't actually see it, she swears that she can see wings of Light folded behind the goddess' back. The goddess is both terrible and beautiful, the montrals on her head magnificent and tall and her smile warm and sharp. "There's no harm done," she says, and Merrin swears that the voice of the goddess sounds simultaneously like a normal child and like the voice of something much older, the tones as alluring as the most wondrous song. "What's your name?"
Merrin gapes at the goddess in awe for a few moments before she finds her voice. "Merrin, Great Goddess," she manages after a few tries, and she cringes.
But the goddess only gives her a gentle smile. Behind her, the Parent watches Merrin with kind eyes, and though the Fanged God terrifies Merrin with his appearance, there's a deep fondness in the way that he's observing the scene that makes Merrin feel less scared. She feels a spark of hope - if even the Fanged God shows no anger, that should be good. The goddess gestures permission for Merrin and her mother to stand, and they do.
"You have great potential, Merrin," the goddess says. "But you haven't yet unlocked it."
This time, Merrin finds her voice more easily. "Thank you, Great Goddess." It's hard to look at the goddess head-on - so bright is she - but Merrin tries, because it's respectful to look at the one you're talking to. "I haven't been able to wield the magicks yet," she admits.
The goddess reaches out and places a hand on Merrin's shoulder, and she gasps. The sensation is unlike anything she'd ever felt before. Merrin can feel her blood singing, her ears ringing, and her fingertips feel alight with a power previously unknown to her. "Our presence may strengthen your power," the goddess says encouragingly. "Try it. Use your instincts."
And though Merrin has been taught that the gods should always be deferred to, she can't help but look to Mama, then Mother Talzin for permission. They both give her a smile - from her Mama, an uncertain but encouraging one, and from Mother Talzin, an approving one.
Merrin raises her hands, holding them with her fingers curled and her palms facing one another. She reaches inside herself and thinks of the singing in her blood and the prickling of her fingertips. She recalls the green magicks that the other sisters can conjure, and she imagines the song in her blood turning into something that she can see. Close to her, she can feel the sheer power from the Winged Goddess, and Merrin draws on the Light, too.
Nothing happens. Her face falls, but the goddess only nods encouragingly. Merrin draws her eyebrows together and tries again, reaching deeper, reaching more, and instead of only picturing it, she thinks she can feel the power flowing through her veins, and she knows she will see-
Her fingers spark. Green magick sputters, then roars to life, a glowing ball of power held between her own hands. She's so excited she loses her concentration and it disappears, but she could care less.
She'd done it.
She has enough self-control to drop to her knees again in gratefulness. "Thank you, thank you, thank you," she breathes. Merrin can't believe it - she'd insulted the gods, and they'd helped her connect to the magicks in return. She can really feel the magicks in her blood now and she knows that if she calls to them again, they will come easily. "Thank you, Great Goddess."
Behind her, she's aware of Mama doing something similar, but the goddess only laughs again. Waves of joy that aren't Merrin's wash over her and take her breath away with the purity and strength of the emotion, and she knows without a doubt that they are coming from the goddess. They're strong enough to ensure that when the Fanged God speaks - and he does - Merrin isn't scared at all.
"If you could do that for her," he murmurs, and his voice seems to echo with the snarl of the strongest rancor, "what could you do for everyone else?"
"I imagine that it will be significant," the Parent muses. His voice is different, echoing with the sounds of something ancient, and despite the joy that's still washing over Merrin, she can't help but shiver at the sheer power in his voice.
"It is," Mother Talzin agrees. "For powerful witches such as I, we can already sense the added power in our blood."
"Then let's go help the others with the battle preparations," the Parent instructs. His eyes turn to Merrin, and she gets the very strange feeling of his eyes boring straight through hers and into her soul. He smiles gently. "We must take our leave, I'm afraid."
"Yes, of course," Merrin gasps out. She still can't believe her good fortune. "Thank you, Great Ones! Thank you!"
"Care for her well," the goddess instructs Mama, and the gods move ahead with the other sisters after a quick farewell. When Mama tries to berate Merrin later for running ahead, there's no heat in her words, and Merrin doesn't care, anyway. What she does care about is the way the magick sparks between her fingertips now, and how she can feel it flowing through her veins.
(Years later, she is apprenticed to Old Daka. "You have the potential to become amongst the most powerful of all sisters," Mother Talzin tells Merrin. And years after that, when a Jedi ship crash-lands on Dathomir after a mission gone wrong, Merrin is the one to rescue the Jedi. He's a red-haired human with a double-sided lightsaber, and she thinks, strangely, that he could become a great friend of hers.)
The preparations take a long time. Mother Talzin works closely with the other wielders of magick in the coven, their power strengthened by the presence of the gods. She can feel it in the way her blood sings; though she has always been aware that her magick was much more potent than many other sisters, she is also aware enough to notice the significant shift in her power. The taming of the rancors by the hunters takes half the time it should. Talzin then takes it upon herself to personally imbue the weapons of all the Nightsisters with the most powerful of magicks, and she is surprised to see that the gods want to directly interfere.
"Allow me," the Parent says quietly. His form is constantly shifting between the corporeal and spirit world; despite herself, Talzin can't help but observe in wonder. She'd only thrown herself into the spirit world once, and it had been painful beyond imagination. It had been as if every cell in her body was being ripped apart; when she had returned to the corporeal world, it had felt as though every inch of her was being sewn together by the sharpest needles. Wordlessly, Talzin complies with the Parent's request, inclining her head in respect.
The colour of magick is green - the same colour as life. Yet, the colour of the Parent's incorporeal form is slightly different, tinged with a blue-ish that reminds Talzin of the precious crystals stored deep within the coven walls. He makes a pulling motion with his arms, and suddenly he pulls a blue-green magick from the air, imbuing the weapons which lie before him with the mist he had just manifested.
Talzin is aware that this must be what the Jedi address as the "Force." To her, there is no such thing as the Force; there are magicks, and the power that lies in her blood and the blood of her sisters. But just as the Jedi respect their way of living, she respects theirs. Their beliefs may be different; that matters not. What matters is power.
The Parent raises his hand and the weapons rise from the ground, humming with a newfound power. "They will be stronger now," he says quietly. "They will guide your warriors and lend them an edge to their instincts. And - most important of all, should it come to it - they can deflect a lightsaber blade."
"We thank you for your gift, Great One," Talzin says in return.
"Use it wisely," he says. He begins to walk away as Talzin gestures for the sisters who had been watching from a distance away to approach. "Should the weapon be turned on a Jedi, it will revert to its original state."
Talzin inclines her head. "We understand." The Parent moves away - perhaps to help with other battle preparations as the warrior sisters retrieve their enhanced weapons. Talzin can sense the pleasure of the sisters as they test out the changes - this will definitely give them an advantage in battle.
It does not escape her notice that even after the Parent has moved away from view, the weapons still hover in the air, held aloft by his telekinetic grip.
It doesn't take long for Ventress to realize that she's hiding.
A part of her chafes in anger at this behavior. She should not be reduced to a coward in her home. Yet, she cannot deny the very real possibility of her life being in danger. It is just her luck that the Jedi that she tried to kill the most often somehow became the gods of Dathomir. Even the pesky little Padawan - Tano, was it? - has become the very embodiment of the Light Side.
But Ventress is a survivor. She isn't like Maul, who is so focused on revenge he can't adapt to a new change in circumstance. She can change. She can adapt. She's not stupid enough to throw herself heedlessly into vengeance.
And that's why she's here - in an obscure corner where the sisters barely venture, running through her katas and throwing herself into the movements of her lightsabers. She allows her anger to run free, to flow through her arms and to direct the strength of each strike. She thinks on it; her anger at Dooku for abandoning her, her anger at the Jedi for their arrogance, and her resentment at how even now, when she has finally found a home, she may lose her sisters to the hand of Dooku.
She's absorbed in her katas to the point where she doesn't sense the Winged Goddess walking up to observe her.
"You're conflicted."
The voice shatters through her haze of concentration, making her flinch and whirl to snap at the intruder before she realizes who it is. Ventress powers down her lightsabers, hooking them onto her belt and dropping to kneel.
"Great One," she says tonelessly.
She hates it.
It reminds her of Dooku.
Then the Winged Goddess says, "Eugh," and it sounds so incredibly like the pesky little Togruta Padawan and unlike a goddess that it makes Ventress snap her head up in surprise despite herself.
(There's something else that's a little bit off about Tano, something beyond the unnatural white-gold of her skin and the wings behind her back. But Ventress can't pinpoint what it is.)
"Don't do that," Tano says. "It's weird."
Ventress makes a quick deduction. Such a behavior means that despite the sudden increase in power of these three Jedi in particular - and Force knows how they have become the gods of Dathomir - they are still, at their heart, the same people. Ventress knows this just as surely as she can sense their Force signatures - altered, but still recognizable.
It is because of this deduction that she finds herself able to speak freely. "I thought you would enjoy having a little bit of revenge," she says dryly, "given our history." She knows she would enjoy it if she saw Skywalker and Kenobi grovelling at her feet.
"Maybe." Tano shrugs, the movement sending ripples down the wings of Light behind her back that are just barely visible to the naked eye. But to Ventress, they are clearly visible in the Force, tall and feathered and terrible to behold. "But you've changed. I can sense it."
Ventress bristles, but she doesn't deny it. She has changed. Whether or not the Jedi or Separatists win the war, she doesn't care - all she wants is to be left alone with her sisters. She no longer cares about revenge, though she certainly would be glad to hear if Dooku were to die suddenly and painfully.
She just wants to live in peace.
"The Council has promised you immunity as long as you stay on this planet," Tano continues. "And provided that you don't attack us."
"I can live with that." Ventress looks away and stands, no longer feeling obligated to treat the Jedi-gods with reverence. "I'm not an assassin anymore," she says with derision. "I'm a sister. Which means that senseless killing is no longer something that appeals to me."
Tano hums. Her eyes, no longer a soft blue, are a piercing green, reminding Ventress of the colour of the magicks of Dathomir. "But I sense… something else from you."
Ventress does not fidget under Tano's gaze.
Then Tano's eyes widen by a fraction and her mouth drops open by a millimeter, and though the reaction is miniscule, it only serves to remind Ventress that Tano is really still just a child. "That's what it is," she says, a little breathlessly. "It's your lightsabers. Your kyber crystals don't match with you anymore."
"What?" Ventress snaps. This isn't something that had crossed her mind at all.
"You've changed," Tano says again. "The crystals are an extension of ourselves. But since you've changed, and the crystals haven't… it's part of why you feel conflicted."
Biting back a retort, Ventress searches her feelings. She isn't particularly pleased at the fact that Tano has been scrutinizing her, but she can recognize the need to see if Tano's words are true.
Ventress drops her hands to her hips, grabbing her lightsabers and pulling them from her belt. Tano doesn't flinch - instead, she just watches with curiosity as Ventress extends her senses, using the Force to brush against the kyber crystals set deep inside the curved hilts.
And Ventress jumps.
The kyber, which had matched with her for so long, is rebelling against her senses, rejecting a part of her presence even as she holds it. Long before, she had felt attuned to these lightsabers because the crystals had sung the same melody as she held - one of fear, of anger, of rage. But now, she has changed. She is a Nightsister - a part of a family, and no longer just a disposable assassin. The song of the crystals is no longer something she can be in tune with - instead, it feels dissonant, clashing against her new changes.
"There's enough time." At Tano's words, Ventress looks back up. "You can modify your weapons before Grievous arrives."
Ventress drops her eyes to her sabers once again, eyeing them speculatively. "I think I will," she allows.
For a moment, she wonders if Tano will try to draw out their conversation any longer. Instead, Tano gives a nod in farewell, and she turns, the wings of Light spreading across the room before she disappears in a burst of speed.
As Ventress sits to meditate, she thinks on the conversation, and that's when she realizes what was wrong with Tano beyond her new appearance.
Not once in their conversation did Ventress see Tano's chest rise and fall. Not once did Ventress hear Tano take a breath. And though Tano's skin was shining a burning white-gold, Ventress is suddenly struck with the certainty that had she touched the skin of the young Togruta, it would have been as cold as a corpse.
The day passes quickly. The sun sets then rises again, marking the beginning of the last day before the arrival of Grievous.
The preparations done by the Nightsisters are quick and efficient. Though they had long prepared by fortifying their coven, there are still last-minute preparations to be made - it is not efficient to prepare a spell a full month ahead of time, after all. It would be too draining. And so, many spells are prepared to be enacted. For the sisters who cannot wield magick, they sharpen their weapons and prepare a strong meal, the foods carefully and meticulously selected to ensure maximum strength and awareness in battle. Other sisters carefully prepare the tamed rancors, leading them to strategic areas around the perimeter.
It is good that there are rancors. After all, blaster bolts are ineffective against their thick hide.
In a small clearing near the coven, but far enough to be clear from any of the battle preparations, Ahsoka takes a moment with her masters to examine their newly uncovered abilities.
(They don't discuss what's going on, not explicitly, anyway. Ahsoka knows that she and Anakin are in no state to be talking about this - Anakin is too volatile, and she's too calm. Unnaturally calm. Anything she says on this planet is likely something she won't really mean the moment they leave.
And always, always, at the back of her mind, there's a constant, steady stream of Light that's flowing away from her and into Anakin as both she and Obi-Wan fight to keep him from teetering over the precipice.)
Obi-Wan pokes at them goodnaturedly, grumbling at his lack of ability of flight with the absence of wings, but Ahsoka finds a loophole.
"You become one with the Force when you become the mist, right?" she asks, curious. She'd since gotten used to how her voice - and her masters' voices - have changed, with their new forms bestowing upon them a new layer of voices when they speak. "What's stopping you from moving constantly between the Force that's in the air above us?"
"You're already partially off the ground," Anakin adds, looking pointedly at Obi-Wan's legs, which are half-dissolved into blue-green mist, leaving him with a semi-solid upper body that hovers above the ground.
"You're right," Obi-Wan muses, brows furrowed.
Anakin barks a short laugh. "When am I not?"
Obi-Wan rolls his eyes, then turns his attention inwards, focusing on himself. Ahsoka senses the Force gathering around him, swirling in calm, steady movements, and she watches as the rest of Obi-Wan's body dissolves into mist.
It's not easy to watch. When he dissolves, his skin disappears first, exposing the rushing blood through his veins and the deep red of muscle. Then that, too, disappears, leaving behind a glimpse of the stark white of bone before it all turns into a blue-green blur. It hadn't looked like this when they weren't on Dathomir - it had simply looked like the entirety of his body was turning blue-green - and Ahsoka wonders if the influence of the Nightsisters on the Force is the reason why their collective appearance is so primal.
If Ahsoka were still a Togruta, she might've hurled. But she isn't only a Togruta anymore, so she just watches with a dispassionate gaze, noting it with some interest.
(She remembers how the Force Wielders had said that they could take forms similar to those around them. Maybe that's why she and her masters are like this now, on Dathomir.)
In the Force, Obi-Wan's presence dissipates, changing to become one with the Force around him. Still, Ahsoka can sense an inkling of his presence, moving tentatively upwards. She grins, turning to Anakin as she spreads her own wings.
"Coming, Master?" she teases.
The smirk he gives her in return looks wrong. It's too wide and makes it look like there's a ragged gash across his face. "Of course," he retorts.
She's not scared of his new appearance, though. She doesn't even give it much thought other than the stray curious observation.
(It's because she can't get scared.)
The sensation of flying is both foreign and familiar. While she's flown before in Morai's body, there's a part of her that marvels at how strange it is to have a new set of limbs that's both able to hold her up and unable to be touched in the physical world. The white-gold from her wings shimmers, stretching across the forest and through the branches of the trees, unhindered, and with but a thought, she's lifted into the air.
Anakin follows shortly after, a little unsteady. His movements are jerky for the first few moments as he becomes accustomed to actually using the wings of shadow. He rises with Ahsoka, following her and Obi-Wan's presence up, up, up until they're nearly two hundred feet in the air, able to see far over the towering trees of Dathomir.
Obi-Wan's presence seems to intensify in the Force as he appears in the physical world again, the mist coalescing into a semblance of his head and shoulders. His hair, half-dissolved, gives the appearance of being alight with a gentle blue-green flame as he hovers in the air. "I must admit," he says wryly, and his voice sounds like both a whisper in the wind and a shout in her mind, "this is rather strange."
Anakin snorts, still a little unsteady in the air. Here, away from the trees, his body is solid, no longer half-merged with the long, spidery shadows that snaked across the grounds of Dathomir. Instead, Ahsoka can now clearly see the chalky white colour of his skin and the sharp gold of his eyes, rimmed in a bright red. "Funny how you're the only one without wings, Obi-Wan," Anakin teases. "You did always say that you hate flying."
Obi-Wan rolls his eyes as Ahsoka laughs at his expense. "Well, yes, I do," he concedes. "I suppose the Force was kind enough to take that into consideration. But I must say… I can't disagree with the view here."
Ahsoka turns her eyes to the planet below. "It's beautiful," she murmurs. Though the trees are leafless and the fog suffocating, there's a strange sort of ethereal beauty to Dathomir from above. Even from this distance, Ahsoka can see the soft yellow pulses of the trees in the Force, humming together in a quiet harmony. Deeper in the forest, she can see the large, swirling brown presences of the rancors, many of them in sharp contrast to the cold green of the Nightsisters that are taming them. Though the Force on this planet is very different from what Ahsoka is used to, there's still a balance here - a different point of balance than the Jedi, surely, but still a point of balance.
Beside her, Anakin makes a noncommittal noise that's not quite in agreement. "It's something," he says in a way that tells Ahsoka that he's not really looking at the view.
They spend a few moments in the air, watching the way the Force swirls around Dathomir. It's different from any planet Ahsoka's been to before - the only planet that vaguely resembles this one is Ilum, with the rawness of the Force on that planet comparable to this. It's also fair to say, Ahsoka thinks, that this planet is similar to Mortis in a way, with the Force feeling so strange and primal. Yet, it's strangely peaceful up here - the Force swirls in a comfortable balance, and Ahsoka savors the moment, so rare during the war.
Then the Force twitches, and they turn as one when they hear the low whine of incoming ships.
It's incredibly subtle. Had they not been two hundred feet in the air, they wouldn't have heard it, much less known what it meant. But they recognize it all the same.
"Recon droids," Anakin growls, and he stretches out his hand, already crackling with crimson lightning, ready to bring them down. His body tilts, the gargoyle wings already moving to bolt through the air.
Then Obi-Wan does the unexpected, and Ahsoka senses more than feels it when Obi-Wan throws himself forward and restrains Anakin with a blue-green mist. "No," he says firmly. "Anakin, don't-"
Anakin whips his arm around, hand glowing crimson, his teeth bared in a snarl that looks far more animalistic than human. "Stop holding me back," he hisses, and through the edge of Ahsoka's training bond with him, she can sense the cold tendrils of Darkness taking root again into Anakin's mind, slowly pulling him back over the edge into madness.
Had she still been normal, she would have frozen. The sheer strength of the Darkness she can sense roiling in her master would have been enough to make her stop in terror, horrified at the monster wearing a caricature of the face of the man she considers to be her older brother. In that moment, he looks everything she used to imagine a Sith to be when she was still a youngling - poisonous yellow eyes, teeth bared in a snarl, face twisted with hatred, hands crackling with a horrible power.
But she's not just a padawan anymore. She can't feel afraid.
She doesn't hesitate. She seizes the serenity and the Light she can feel within herself and throws it through her bond. The suddenness of her actions stalls Anakin, making him freeze for a split second, and Obi-Wan takes the opportunity to throw his presence around them and to pull them through space-time.
The change is jolting. One moment, they're in the air, and the next, they're on the ground, mere meters away from a startled Mother Talzin and an elderly Nightsister. Ahsoka nearly stumbles, but regains her balance in time, her wings moving to pull her back up into a position where she can stand comfortably before they fold into her back and disappear. Beside her, Obi-Wan lands on his feet, his body half-formed, with a seething Anakin held under his telekinetic grip.
Let me explain, Obi-Wan snaps through the Force, and Ahsoka nearly flinches at the strength of his command. In the Force, the roiling mass of anger that is Anakin subsides ever so slightly, surprised at the intensity of Obi-Wan's command. It's incredibly unusual for Obi-Wan to demonstrate outward irritation or even anger, and it's just as strange to see him use such heavy-handed tactics when holding Anakin back.
But to Ahsoka, while it's strange to a part of her, there's another part that thinks that it makes perfect sense. After all, he's the middle. The grey. The Balance. Which means that he's equal parts Dark and Light. Which means that he will do whatever necessary to ensure that not one side overcomes the other.
(And again, the change of character in not just herself - but also her masters - should terrify her. It's wrong. It's unnatural and strange and completely out of the ordinary.
But she accepts it with great calm instead.)
"Great Ones," Talzin says, sketching a quick bow. Beside her, the elderly Nightsister echoes the gesture, dropping into a flawless bow. "What can we do for you?"
It doesn't escape Ahsoka's notice that both Talzin and the elderly sister are entirely unfazed at the sight of Anakin being held back by Obi-Wan.
"Separatist recon droids have entered the system." At Obi-Wan's words, Talzin's eyes widen by a slight fraction - the only discernible reaction from either of the two sisters present. "It is vital that none of you destroy the recon droids and that you do not allow any of the defense preparations to look like preparations for battle. By allowing the droids to see what they think is an unprepared coven, you will retain the element of surprise for when you activate your defenses on the following day."
Talzin nods in agreement. "And by doing so, we prevent the risk of an early strike should they see that we are making preparations," she muses. "I understand."
To Ahsoka's left, she's aware that Anakin has stopped straining against the blue-green bonds holding him in place, though she can still sense his presence seething with indignation. Gently, she sends another pulse of Light through her training bond, and in the Force, Morai hoots, a gentle song that sends a wave of soothing calm that stills all of them.
Anakin subsides. In response, the blue-green mist retreats cautiously, pulled back to linger around Obi-Wan's form. To Ahsoka's surprise, she senses very little fear from both Talzin and the elderly Nightsister at the display of anger from Anakin, and even now it has faded away.
"How should we warn them all?" asks the elderly Nightsister. "Perhaps…"
She trails off, a thoughtful look on her face as she considers the possible spells to cast to transmit this message. Ahsoka tilts her head, pondering the possibilities. Perhaps she could lend the elderly Nightsister - or Talzin - the strength to cast such a telepathic message?
But before she can even voice her thoughts, Anakin offers a better solution instead. "It's alright," he says, the anger gone from his voice. In its place is the same cockiness that Ahsoka's heard every time he's laid out a battle plan that he knows will succeed. "I got it."
"Of course," Talzin agrees, inclining her head, and they watch as Anakin melts into the shadows.
A short distance away, deep within the coven, Asajj Ventress opens her eyes to watch the re-making of her lightsabers. She'd salvaged the materials from the shedded skin of the rancors and from the bark of the trees, and she'd bound them together with a drop of the Water of Life and a mixture of the metal scraps she'd salvaged from her old hilts. And though the pieces in front of her look so incredibly different from her old sabers, the biggest changes are not the hilts themselves but rather what is housed within.
She'd poured herself into the kyber. She'd felt the rage, the hatred, the anger that had permeated the crystals, and she had drawn on the power of Dathomir and pushed her new self - her changed self - into the crystals. She'd felt it warp under her grip in the Force, changing from the hurting rage she'd sensed into something sharp and cold and right.
The parts float in front of her. They twitch, then push together, encasing the newly purified crystals. The sabers float, held only by her mind's grip, and at last, they are complete. In it, she can see hints of others - the wood modeled after the grips of the swords used by her sisters, the curvature of the hilts reminiscent of the Makashi form she'd honed under Dooku, and yet, there is something there that makes it uniquely hers. It is, unquestionably, something that belongs to her and her alone.
The crystals aren't completely purified in the way the Jedi would purify it, of course. She didn't use the Light. Why would she? No. She'd drawn her power from Dathomir, and the magick in the air had lent its strength to her.
She reaches out, grasps the sabers, and powers them on to see the blades of vibrant yellow, and she smiles.
(If she looks closely, she can see the yellow blades crackling with thin streaks of green - the colour of her sisters' magicks.)
Then she hears it, and her hands tighten in anger and anticipation for the coming battle.
The message comes like a hiss in the shadows, both a snarl and a shout and a whisper all at once. The Nightsisters hear it echoing in their minds, in their ears, in their own shadows, and they know in their blood that the message is from the Fanged God.
They freeze as one, and listen.
It doesn't sound like a coherent sentence, nor a fully formed message. It comes to them like a new thought pressing into their minds, and they accept it, and then they move. Some sisters deliberately relax their bodies, ensuring that any droid analysts would read their body language as without tension. Some sisters chatter loudly and with deliberation, pretending that all is well. Some sisters weave careful spells of illusion, blanketing the coven with the false image of a home unprepared for invasion.
They all seethe at the invasion of their home. Later, when the first of the sisters catches a glimpse of the recon droids through the thick branches of the trees, she allows her eyes to glaze over it, and she laughs with her sisters, projecting an image of an easygoing group doing regular patrols. "I must tell that joke to Pavri!" she chortles, and the other sisters laugh with her.
(There are no sisters in the coven named Pavri. It is a code, and the sisters understand it, and one of the sisters twitches her fingers behind her back to strengthen the illusion spells.)
Mere hours away in hyperspace, the specialized squads of commando droids are activated, their memory banks filled with carefully cultivated information. One squad is uploaded with a critical analysis of Tano's fighting style, and the ways to easily circumvent it to kill her. Another is uploaded with the knowledge of Kenobi's Soresu, and how to overwhelm his defenses.
With a little persuasion, Dooku had pressured Nute Gunray into spending a significant portion on these droids. They are equipped with a cloaking device, making them nearly impossible to see. It is not possible to fully cloak them in the Force, of course - technology does not have that advantage - but it should be enough to make the Jedi pause.
Above their mission to kill the two Jedi, they have been programmed with a secret command from Dooku, passed on from his master.
Ensure that their deaths will be watched by Skywalker.
The rest of the day is spent with careful preparations hidden within the coven. Obi-Wan rarely sees his padawans as they have found it more prudent to split up, though he can still sense them in the back of his mind, a constant stream of the coldest light and the most burning dark.
(And isn't it strange, how despite Ahsoka's Light and warmth, there is also a coldness around her? How despite the coolness of Anakin's Darkness, there is a burning fire there?)
While Ahsoka spends her time with the sisters who wield the magicks most aptly and Anakin with the hunters and in the shadows, Obi-Wan spends his with Talzin and Ventress, smoothing out the plans for the defense while keeping his senses on high alert.
There's something different about Ventress. The fear that had plagued her when he had first arrived with his padawans is gone, replaced with a quiet assurance and a firm resolve to protect her home. What is more, her presence has changed, becoming far more subdued, turned from a raging crimson into a cooler yellow-green.
"The best option is to lead the droids into a controlled field," he says, fully aware that Ventress is paying careful attention to his tactics. It is incredibly unusual for him to be discussing tactics with a former Separatist; yet, he has a strong feeling that she will never use it against the Republic again. He can sense it - she's chosen her place here with her family. "If you can lure the droids into a trap, you can flank them from above and in the sides, and effectively box them in."
"Their strength lies in numbers," Ventress adds, her brows drawn together in deep concentration. "We've long discussed a way to take them out quickly, but the spells we knew of were…"
She trails off, the statement hanging in the air, and she turns to Mother Talzin. As if sensing her thoughts, Mother Talzin inclines her head.
"With the arrival of the gods, we may cast the most powerful spells that we could not before," she says quietly. "We will cast them early in the morning tomorrow, but our casters will need to be close to the physical presence of the Winged Goddess."
Obi-Wan remembers the time on Coruscant, a week ago, when he had thought that he had sensed Ahsoka's presence splitting into two. He'd thought that he'd imagined it, but as she'd revealed later, she truly had split her presence, with a part of her remaining with her body while her consciousness moved with the convor. "I do not think that will be an issue," he comments.
Something catches his attention in the corner of his eye - a flash of white-gold, too small to be Ahsoka's presence, but large enough to be noticeable. He turns his head, and sees the convor.
Morai nods once, and Obi-Wan gives a soft smile.
"I know it won't."
He turns back to Talzin and Ventress, who are watching the convor with curious eyes. Talzin inclines her head in acknowledgement. "An animation spell on the trees will turn the environment to our advantage," she speculates. She brings up her hands, summoning a ball of green magick between them, and she throws it forward, creating a glowing green map of the coven and the woods surrounding it. "Ventress has predicted that Dooku's minions will prefer to march straight to the entrance, relying on their great numbers to absorb any resistance we can muster. But should we animate the trees-" She flicks her finger, creating a small green army of droids. On the map, a few of the trees come to life, sweeping through the flanks and cutting great swaths through the droid army. "-we can significantly improve our chances."
"How many trees could you potentially manipulate to your will?" Obi-Wan asks, mind immediately racing to factor it into the battle tactics. This would definitely be useful - but that means that they must not squander such an asset. They must use it to their full advantage.
He has seen the effect of Separatist weapons on plant life. He knows that one well-placed shot from the right weapon can eliminate many trees.
"No more than half a dozen," Talzin answers, gesturing to the animated map. "The animation of something so large and unlike ourselves requires much power. Even the most powerful of us cannot maintain such a spell for more than three hours."
"And will you be the one to cast this spell?" Obi-Wan probes.
She hesitates, and he scrutinizes her.
"You have something else on your mind," he guesses, and her eyes narrow.
"I have in my possession a lock of Count Dooku's hair," she confesses, and Obi-Wan feels a flash of understanding. So that's what it is. A hint of scorn enters her voice. "I will ensure that he will feel the true consequences of his actions during the attack from his minions. He should be more careful when making deals with witches."
She spits the last word, unbridled anger on her tongue, and Obi-Wan understands the depths of the rage she feels against Dooku for daring to threaten her home and family. Beside her, the Force blooms with a gleeful vindication, and Obi-Wan turns his gaze to Asajj Ventress, her eyes glinting with a feral lust for revenge.
As tempting as it is to allow Talzin to take her revenge, Obi-Wan knows - he knows - that he cannot allow Dooku to die yet. "We need him alive," he says quietly, and though it is well-hidden, he senses the sudden influx of anger from Mother Talzin and from Ventress. "We need his knowledge if we are to win against the Sith."
Talzin is quiet. For a moment, she says nothing, her respect for Obi-Wan warring with her anger at losing her revenge, before he senses something shift in her mind. He hadn't forgotten that Talzin is incredibly calculating - and he sees it now, on full display. "I will not kill Count Dooku," she concedes. "But I ask that you allow me to create a potion for your use against him. In return, I will tell you what I know of the Sith Master."
There is a catch - Obi-Wan knows this much. He's fairly certain that the catch will not affect him nor the Jedi Order directly - given his read on Talzin's feelings towards him and his padawans - but he knows there is something more to it that she is not saying. "And the use of this potion?"
She smiles. It isn't a kind one - it's sharp and cruel and holds the promise of pain. "He will tell you all you wish to know," she says with relish. "He will be unable to stop his tongue, like a diviner drunk on the beauty of his own words."
But there is more. "And will he die?" Obi-Wan asks.
Talzin's smile doesn't fade. "Not before he tells you all you wish to know."
Night falls. The potions have all been prepared and placed in a temporary storage, ready to be used when the dawn comes. In one of the secluded rooms, an image of Darth Sidious hovers in the air, created by green magick and frozen in a single moment, pulled from Talzin's memories. Though she had long since left the room, it had been a simple matter to conjure a spell that would leave the image up for hours of examination.
Obi-Wan frowns at the image, one hand tugging at his (semi-incorporeal) beard. A few meters away, Anakin paces restlessly, and further still, Ahsoka sits cross-legged on the floor, calmly composing a message back to the Council to give them an update. There are no revealing details on this message, of course - just a note that Maul is nowhere to be found, and that currently, Ahsoka and her masters are alright and are working to negotiate with Mother Talzin.
Dathomir had been - and still is - liberating. Anakin had never felt so kriffin' alive. He'd felt a taste of this power on Mortis when he'd called on the planet itself and tamed both the Daughter and the Son, but even so, this is different. As the hours go by, it gets harder and harder to remember why the Jedi Council forbids this. The Dark is so, so alluring - it's beautiful and powerful and filled with so much potential. Without the constraints of a human form, it's easy to truly feel the way the Force flows around him.
But there's a fog around his mind. It makes his brain feel fuzzy and it pushes through his thoughts, holding back the most alluring parts of the Darkness that croon at him. The fog (and he thinks it's blue-green - blue-green, like Obi-Wan, and blue-green like the Dagger of Mortis) isn't menacing; if anything, it's more comforting, more soothing than something that's foreign in his mind should have any right to be. Still, every time Anakin chafes against the foggy mist that's settled in his mind, it moves, pulling at the spark of Light that the Daughter had left in him when he'd become a conduit between her and Ahsoka on Mortis, and he remembers why the mist is there.
He'd asked Obi-Wan and Ahsoka to help him. To make sure that he doesn't Fall. He remembers the way the Son had cried out when he'd accidentally killed the Daughter, and how he'd shouted in anguish when the Father had turned the Dagger on himself, and Anakin vows never to inflict such harm on Obi-Wan and Ahsoka.
The fact that he's constantly struggling not to lash out against them - the fact that he already has - scares him more than he cares to admit.
As if sensing his thoughts - which Obi-Wan probably is - a soothing wave of I'vegotyoudon'tworry washes over Anakin through his training bond, and he looks up from his pacing to see Obi-Wan watching him with concern. "Are you alright, Anakin?"
"I'm fine," he bites out. At Obi-Wan's disbelief, he amends, "Mostly. I'm worried about who the Sith might be."
Mother Talzin had woven a powerful spell into the image. She'd projected not only a detailed picture of the Sith's appearance, but also her own memories of the Sith's Force-presence and his voice. What had resulted was an extremely troubling image of a Dark presence, roiling with hatred and rage, and horribly familiar in ways that Anakin couldn't completely pinpoint.
"It's familiar," Ahsoka mutters, putting away her datapad. "I've sensed it before, in the Senate."
"But what good does that do?" Anakin snaps. It's not enough. His anger threatens to boil over, making the shadows flicker around the room. "It narrows it down, but not enough!"
"Anakin," Obi-Wan admonishes, but Ahsoka looks completely unfazed, her presence unchanged from the serenity that had pervaded it since they'd landed on Dathomir. She stands, the movement far too graceful than any padawan should be able to manage.
"But it's a place to start." She waves her hand, triggering the command that Mother Talzin had woven into the spell, and they listen again at the memory of the voice of Darth Sidious. When the memory ends, Ahsoka adds, "We know he's male, and humanoid, and close to the Chancellor. That narrows down over half the Senate."
"We'll let the Council know in our report once we return to Coruscant," Obi-Wan says. "This information is too sensitive to talk about over the comm channels."
A horrible thought strikes Anakin then - a thought so foreign and terrible and impossible that he almost rejects it immediately. Guilt rises up in a tidal wave for even daring to think of this possibility -
That perhaps Palpatine himself is the Sith Lord.
He pushes the thought away vehemently along with the rage and guilt that surges through him. He doesn't want to tell Obi-Wan or Ahsoka about this - Obi-Wan has always been suspicious of most politicians and Ahsoka just wouldn't understand.
But there's no way. The Chancellor had always been kind. He'd always been genuine and gentle. Every inch of his presence had always been filled with sincerity, and he'd always listened to all of Anakin's issues with the Council and he'd encouraged-
Then he remembers the Chancellor's signature approving of the inhibitor chips, then the presence of the holocron, and ultimately, he remembers the words that Revan had told him to understand.
Peace is a lie.
A part of him snarls in anger at the sheer audacity of him even considering the possibility that the Chancellor is a traitor. Then he remembers his dreams of Ar-Amu, of Revan, and with one violent motion, he seizes his thoughts and dispels them in the Force to deal with at another time. For now, they need to focus on planning for the upcoming battle.
All these thoughts come in the span of but a moment. Anakin pulls himself out of his thoughts with Obi-Wan and Ahsoka none the wiser, and he jerks his head in agreement with Obi-Wan's statement. "You're right," he says. "Let's- Let's focus on what's happening tomorrow first."
Obi-Wan inclines his head, the gesture partially lost with half of his head dissolved into mist. "Yes, of course," he says in agreement, and they begin to revise their plans.
In another room, some ways away, Asajj Ventress confides in Mother Talzin.
"How did you overcome your fear, Mother?" she asks quietly. "The other sisters fear the gods. But I sensed none of it from you."
A beat of silence as Talzin gathers her thoughts. Then, "I do fear them," she admits. "They are powerful, and we owe our magicks to them. But fear is of no use to me, and so, I dismiss it. If I give them the appropriate respect, I have nothing to fear."
Ventress tilts her head. "Really?" she asks with skepticism.
Talzin gestures, and Ventress straightens, recognizing that Talzin is about to give her a piece of wisdom. "Long ago, beyond our galaxy, there was an Order of powerful women whose influence could span many systems," Talzin recalls. "We know very little of them, yet what remains of our knowledge of these women is a mantra which is of great use to follow."
"A mantra?" Ventress asks. Interesting. A group of powerful women that Mother Talzin speaks of with respect - they must have been powerful indeed. The only mantras that Ventress knows of are the Jedi and Sith Codes, and she wonders if this one is something akin to those.
"The name of this Order of women has been lost to history, as has parts of their mantra," Talzin continues. "But you - and all the sisters - would do well to learn from it. I have studied it and used it to protect the coven; you must learn to apply it to unlearn all the Sith teachings you have been taught."
"And the mantra?" Ventress prompts with slight impatience.
Talzin's lips curl into a small smile at this, but she relents nonetheless, her voice taking the cadence of someone reciting a ritual. "I must not fear," she intones. "Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain."
A chill passes over Ventress at those words. There's something odd about them - something that resonates with her - and she pulls back in surprise. Wordless, she searches for something to say, but Talzin seems to understand.
"These women were powerful," she says again. "Their mantra gave them power over their own fear. And if we follow their example, we may increase our own power." Hidden in Talzin's words are a silent admonishment to leave behind the ways of the Sith, which encouraged fear for it gave them power.
Ventress nods. "I understand, Mother."
Talzin places a hand around her shoulders. Ventress sinks into the embrace, part of her still in mourning for the childhood she had never had. "Good," Talzin says gently. "But now, we must rest. Tomorrow, we fight for our coven."
Ventress thinks on the mantra, then on Talzin's words.
When the time comes tomorrow, she'll fight alongside the Jedi - or whatever they are - and she will not fear. She'll work with them.
She imagines her lightsaber in Grievous' chest, and she smiles.
Now.
The hum of the ship is a subtle thing, faded into the background as he pours over the documents and works provided by the inner-galaxy analysts. There is much to be gleaned from these; in several of the propaganda posters, he can see the subtle strokes which denote a certain style used by an artist, indicating that the creator of these works was in awe of the subjects of their painting at the time they were working.
He pauses, carefully reading the aurebesh letters at the bottom of the poster. It takes a little longer than if it were in Cheunh - after all, Basic is not his first language, and he had learned it solely through written texts and through listening to carefully compiled recordings.
Interesting.
The door hisses open, letting in the soft glow of the hallway lights which outline the silhouette of his visitor. "What have you discerned so far, Commander?" asks Admiral Ar'alani.
He looks up, observing with a sharp eye. The slight tightness in her tone indicates worry for the health of the Navigators; the set of her shoulders tells him that the Navigators are still in the med-bay and that the Admiral is awaiting news of their recovery.
"Much." Thrawn watches her, carefully reading the firm set of her lips before flicking his eyes towards the chrono on the wall. Ah - here is enough time for a short discussion. "What do you know of the inner galaxy conflict?"
Ar'alani's brows furrow, but she answers nonetheless. "Very little. I know there is a civil war between a Republic and the Separatist systems who wish to depart from it."
"Indeed. And I believe it would interest you to know that there is a religious Order which takes the side of the Republic." He stands, gesturing to the art hanging in the air thanks to the holoprojectors. On one poster, two humans stand in dynamic poses, their bodies indicating that they are brothers-in-arms, likely seen together on the battlefield. The taller one is charging forward with his arms raised, his blonde curls flowing in the wind and the blue laser-blade poised to pierce an enemy; as for the shorter one, his ginger-coloured hair and beard are meticulously detailed, and he charges forward too with a similar weapon, this one brought close in a defensive stance. "The research our analysts have gathered indicates that the members of this religious Order - so-named the Jedi - possess supernatural abilities such as foresight and the ability to read minds."
Ar'alani's eyes widen, then narrow. Her eyes turn to the posters on the wall, examining them with a critical gaze. "They are not children," she says, more a statement than a question. "Yet they possess both Second and Third Sight with no fading of their abilities."
"No," he replies. "It appears that unlike the Chiss, they do not lose their abilities with age, nor is it restricted to a specific gender."
"I see." Her tone is contemplative; her shoulders fractionally more relaxed. "And you believe that should we be able to find ourselves an ally within the order, it could potentially be the key to the future of the Ascendancy."
"Perhaps," Thrawn says. "The Jedi faith revolves around a concept they name the 'Force'. I believe that they view themselves as a conduit for this…" he pauses, searching for a word, "...entity, and so, they have devoted thousands of years of research towards the possibilities of their manipulations of the Force."
"And if this 'Force' is the source of their power, you have concluded that their involvement in the inner galaxy civil war may be the reason our Navigators are suffering," Ar'alani deduces.
Thrawn inclines his head. "Indeed."
He gives the admiral a few moments of silence to ruminate on these discoveries. Ar'alani's eyes linger on the posters, roaming over the unfamiliar letters and taking in the digital art with a critical eye. Her gaze flickers to Thrawn, then back to the art projected into the air, and a calculating look enters her face. "You believe there is something significant regarding these members in particular," she says, gesturing sharply at the poster with two humans. "The way you have organized your resources indicates that you have seen a connection."
"Yes. My knowledge of Galactic Basic is limited, but it is enough for me to be reasonably sure of the conclusions I have formed on the Jedi Order." He moves, gesturing to a document he had projected to take a close look at the text. "They do not believe in luck or coincidences, attributing all events to a 'Will of the Force.' I note this because of the significance of the name of this warrior in particular. Skywalker."
Ar'alani's eyebrows rise in mild surprise. It is odd indeed that a well-known warrior within the galaxy holds the same name as the term the Chiss use for their Navigators - ozyly-esehembo. Sky-walker. "Regardless of this coincidence," she says, a hint of curiosity in her voice, "you would base your conclusions off of a superstition? I did not take you to be one to believe in such things, Mitth'raw'nurodo."
"Typically, no," he agrees. "But there is hard evidence which is difficult to dispute. We know well of the existence of Second and Third Sight; what is more, the documents collected by our agents within the galaxy indicate that the members of this Order possess similar abilities and that their knowledge in such things is considerable. It would be unwise to dismiss their capabilities."
Ar'alani hums. "Do you think this warrior - Skywalker - may be the reason for our Navigators' distress?"
"Perhaps not him directly," Thrawn concedes. "By all reports, Skywalker is a particularly formidable warrior, even amongst his Order."
"I can see that," Ar'alani mutters, gesturing to the abundance of drawings of Skywalker on the propaganda posters.
"Indeed. What is also notable is the reports of his multiple engagements with a person known as a 'Sith', which I understand to be a different religious order that wields a different aspect of the Force. The reports filed by the Jedi indicate that such engagements - as they are conflicts - cause what the Jedi term to be 'disturbances' in the Force."
"And the more powerful the members involved in such conflicts, the more powerful the 'disturbance'?" Ar'alani asks.
"Yes. I suspect that whatever conflict is taking place within the galaxy, a new threat of significant power has revealed itself. I do believe the 'great evil' that our sky-walkers have sensed is of relation to a significant event taking place at this very moment within the galaxy."
Ar'alani turns her eyes to another document on the screen, scanning the summary of the events of the war. Thrawn remains quiet; he knows her. Even amongst the Ascendancy, very few have the same tactical prowess as her, and fewer still have that tactical ability along with the talent to navigate the politics surrounding the aristocra. He can see her abilities at use now; the slight shift of her shoulders, the twitch of her fingers, and the slight frown pulling at her lips all indicate that she is formulating a conclusion which she will bring forward to the Ascendancy.
"Do you believe that this 'significant event' is a turning event of the war?" she asks.
Thrawn dips his head. "I do not know. There is not enough information to form a conclusion on this matter."
"I see." Her eyes scan the report on the wall, then flicker to another, and another. "And your evaluation on the effectiveness of the inner galaxy government?"
"Poor." Thrawn gestures, pointing at one piece of artwork, then another. "The broad strokes and the spread of colour indicates a government which is interested in all the voices of its members. Furthermore, the meticulous focus on certain details indicates that any decision is made with too much emphasis on detail and little on efficiency."
Ar'alani absorbs his evaluation with silence. After a few moments, she comes to a decision. "Very well. I will advise the Ascendancy to send an agent into the galaxy in three month's time should our Navigators not experience another vision of this magnitude." Her eyes narrow. "Even if their government is inefficient, making an ally of the Jedi may be useful in ensuring the survival of the Ascendancy."
"And if the Jedi lose the war?" Thrawn asks with mild curiosity.
Ar'alani turns towards him, brow arched. "Then perhaps a more efficient government will arise from the ashes that we could use to our advantage. Regardless, I will prepare a report to the Ascendancy. It is time we begin to expand our reach within the galaxy."