Warning for: Very graphic depictions of violence, scary body horror, gore, lots of (un)dead bodies, more horror, very graphic death scene, Nightsister magic, all that.
This chapter is very much a dive into the freaky parts of the Force, and what it can truly do. I'm not kidding when I say freaky.
There's also a return of some cultural mythologies from Shili and Tatooine - namely, Togruta Hunter culture and Tatooine Slave culture. See Chapter 5 for a short refresher of Togruta mythos.
And finally… am I playing around with a lot of things? Yes. Am I stretching the lore? Yes, totally. Hence, it's tagged, "That's Not How The Force Works."
No "Now" Section in this chapter.
Then.
The night before the battle, Ahsoka doesn't sleep.
(She can't. Gods don't sleep.)
She meditates instead, sitting cross-legged in a position that's long been familiar to her, allowing herself to fall deeply into the Force. It buzzes around her, bright and lively, and she opens her eyes to find herself in the throes of a vision.
Daughter, the Force whispers in the voice of the Ase queen, my Daughter.
In her vision, she's back on Mortis at the place she'd seen the Daughter's body. In the place where the Daughter had laid on the night of her death, the Ase queen stands, her body formless and blending with her Force-presence in a bright kaleidoscope of colours.
Daughter, the Force whispers again, and though the Ase queen's lips do not move, the voice seems to come from within her. The queen's lips curl into a smile, as sharp and red as a rose, and she reaches out a hand, beckoning Ahsoka closer, too-long fingers curling over and over as if to draw her in. But Ahsoka doesn't move, staring instead at the queen with impassivity.
She feels normal in this vision. More like a Togruta than a goddess. And because of this, she feels a rush of fear, crashing down on her all at once, and her chest seizes up and she can't breathe and she gasps out her words to the Ase queen. "Why?" she chokes out. "Why can't I die?"
She hadn't ever gotten the chance to think about immortality. She'd had a few moments before this mission, but she'd refused to think too much about it, distracting herself with her hurt from Barriss' betrayal. Then she'd told her masters about their immortality too, and they'd meditated together, and though it had helped some, it still wasn't enough.
The Ase queen's smile doesn't disappear at all. She beckons again, looking at Ahsoka with pitiless eyes. Come to me, my Daughter, she croons, and Ahsoka chokes on her fear and backs away, shaking her head.
(When Ahsoka was a youngling, she'd looked up the term Ase in the Temple library. She hadn't found much, but she'd found a similar concept in the tales of the human-populated planets, like Stewjon. The Fae, the Ase of these worlds were called. Faeries. And like the Ase legends of the Shili, it was said that if you followed the beckon of the Fae and you allowed them to embrace you, you would be theirs for all eternity, unable to die but also unable to truly live, forever cursed to serve the queen.)
In her past dreams, the Ase queen had been a neutral figure, filled with wisdom that seemed to lie between benevolence and malevolence. This time, the Ase queen seems to lean more heavily on the side of something malicious, uncaring towards Ahsoka's fear. The queen seems to grow larger and larger without actually changing in size, her physical form remaining the same while her presence seems to loom over Ahsoka, and with the next beckon of the queen's hand, an invisible grip pulls Ahsoka into the queen's embrace.
Why do you resist? The queen asks. Her embrace is both a burning cold and icy hot at the same time, folding around Ahsoka with an iron grip. You fell into my embrace here on this very spot many moons ago.
At the back of her mind, Ahsoka knows that the queen doesn't truly exist. There are no Ase, just as there are no Fae in reality. This is just a vision.
But why has the Force chosen the form of the Ase queen to speak? Why does it feel so malicious?
Why is Ahsoka so scared?
"But why-" she tries again, and chokes on her words, fear making it impossible to speak.
You made a deal with me, child, the queen coos, and a chill runs down Ahsoka's spine. That was one of the lessons the Togrutan elders had always emphasized in their stories: never make a deal with the Ase, or you will pay more than you anticipated. A bargain to keep balance. I prefer balance, child. You were not meant to return, but you did. And so now you pay the price - a life for a life.
Ahsoka knows this already. The vision of her older self had told her as much, and she'd meditated on this with her masters. Then a thought strikes her, and her stomach drops. She can't help it - she blurts it out, but she has enough of a conscience to word it properly. "What are the full terms of this bargain?"
She thinks of the Force Wielders on Mortis, locked away for millenia upon millenia on end, and she thinks of the possibility of being isolated with no one but her masters for eternity. It wouldn't be awful, she supposes - they'd have each other, and she'd long hoped to grow old and die with them one day - but there's a difference between spending a lifetime together and spending an eternity together.
(She tries desperately not to think of how they'd died - how the Daughter's life had ended because of her brother, and how the Father had killed himself, using the last of his energy to take his Son with him.)
The queen's grip tightens. She gives no answer as the Force swirls around Ahsoka with a horrifying whirlwind, and her eyes snap open as she's pulled out of her vision.
Then she frowns. Why was she so scared, exactly? She thinks back on the events of her vision, turning them over in her head, and she finds nothing to be terrified about. The only thing she feels is calmness and serenity, and she is glad for it.
"You alright, Snips?"
Anakin's voice draws her out of her thoughts. She studies him briefly, thinking on what she'd discovered in their group meditation on the way to Dathomir, and she dismisses the possibility that she'd thought of in her vision - the possibility that one day, the three of them would lead to the destruction of one another. After all, the original Son hadn't had a shining Light hidden in the very core of his being, just like how the original Daughter hadn't had a single bit of Dark within her. Ahsoka thinks on this, thinks on how she and her masters are more balanced than the original Force wielders, and she feels at peace.
She gives Anakin a soft smile. "Of course."
And she stands, preparing herself for the upcoming battle.
The night before the battle, Anakin doesn't sleep.
(He's a child of the Force. He knows that gods never sleep.)
Instead, after some coaxing on Obi-Wan's part, Anakin grudgingly agrees to spend the night in meditation instead. Strangely, it's not as difficult as he'd anticipated. The Force is loud here, a constant whisper that hisses and murmurs into his ears, and it doesn't really take him much effort before he falls deeply into a meditative trance.
When he opens his eyes again, he half-expects himself to be back on Tatooine. But he isn't. He sees instead the inside of Padmé's apartment at the 500 Republica, the sunlight filtering gently through the windows of the bedroom. A woman made of the shifting sands of Tatooine sits on the bed, the grains whirling together to form the shape of a pregnant Shmi Skywalker.
"Ar-Amu," Anakin says, dipping his head in respect. It's no longer surprising to be visited by her, but it's a little shocking nonetheless to find the vision set in this place. "Why are we here?"
Ar-Amu smiles, the movement rippling across the grains of sand forming her body. Not a single grain falls to the ground - they all swirl around her in a beautiful formation, creating a near-human form that seems to glide when it moves. This is what you call your true home, is it not? She asks.
There's no accusation in her voice. Anakin had never felt any guilt at his hatred of Tatooine - it'd been a place of entrapment, of slavery and scum - but he'd still carried part of the desert within him at all times. It still lives in him now, clearly, for why else would Ar-Amu be speaking to him?
But Tatooine isn't his home. This is home - where Padmé is, he knows he'll always find a home.
It's also at this moment that he realizes that he feels… calmer. More grounded, with a mind that isn't pushing against the madness of the Dark Side. His mind feels clearer, too, without the customary blue-green fog that he's used to having around him as Obi-Wan works to protect him from the most corrupting influences of the Dark.
"It is," he says, answering Ar-Amu's question.
Something in her smile changes, changing from warmth to melancholy. Oh, my son, she murmurs, I am sorry that you have been given this burden.
Anakin frowns. He opens his mouth to ask what exactly she's referring to, then he stops, and closes his mouth again, remembering the last time they had spoken. Bitterness surges up within him again as he remembers how Ar-Amu had explained his fate.
The Slave Who Makes Free.
Instead of saying anything else, he asks her instead, "And the Sith Master? Is he who I think it is?"
He pushes away again the thought of Palpatine being the Sith Master. It's impossible. It just… isn't. Anakin knows that Palpatine is a good man. Maybe he was being manipulated against his will by the Sith, but surely, Palpatine is sincere and kind. He has to be.
Steal the moon, my son, Ar-Amu says in reply, and Anakin grits his teeth. That's not helpful at all.
"I need answers," he bites out with some acid, but Ar-Amu only reaches out and squeezes his shoulder, the shifting sands feeling somehow like the touch of another human. His stomach churns. "It can't be- it can't be Palpatine, because I know it isn't-"
Search your feelings, Ar-Amu counsels. You will find the truth.
Terror mixed with bitterness and anger comes to a peak within him. "It's not enough!" he shouts at her, and for a moment, he just wants to find something to let out his feelings on, because it's just too much, too much, he just wants this kriffing Sith to be dead-
For a brief moment, Ar-Amu looks at him with a picture of surprise, and then it happens. The emotions explode out of Anakin, devastating the inside of the 500 Republica and ripping through the grains of sand forming Ar-Amu's form, blasting her into a million grains of sand that crumble to the ground. Anger turns to horror, and Anakin falls to his knees, reaching helplessly outwards. "Oh, no, no, no- I'm sorry, Ar-Amu, I- "
Unbidden, a sudden memory pushes itself into his mind, cutting off his words as something draws this memory to the surface. A memory of the Father's words, ringing in Anakin's ears on Mortis.
My children and I can manipulate the Force like no other. Therefore, it was necessary to withdraw from the temporal world and live here as anchorites. One cannot imagine what pain it is to have such love for your children and to know they could tear apart the very fabric of the universe.
Anakin stares at his hands, then at the devastation he'd unleashed around himself in a moment where he'd lost control, and the horror in his gut begins to rise even more. He looks again at the crumbled pile of sand at his feet - the pile that had used to hold the form of Ar-Amu - and as he watches, the sands begin to shift, swirling round and round, before settling on a form that makes him catch his breath.
He stares at the shape of a decapitated Tusken child's head, and bile begins to rise in his throat. Shame bursts through his chest, making his head dizzy and his arms weak, and before anything more happens, Ar-Amu speaks, her voice soft and filled with sadness as it rings in his mind.
Remember the extent of your power, my son, she whispers. Now wake.
And his eyes snap open.
Why does he feel so horrified?
His mind feels foggy again - rage and coldness, red and sharp, mulls around his thoughts, dulled by a blue-green mist that always keeps him grounded. He frowns, trying to remember what he'd seen in meditation - he'd had a vision, right? - but it seeps through his mind like grains of sand falling through his fingers.
He shakes his head, allowing his eyes to wander around the room. Beside him, he sees Ahsoka coming out of a vision of her own, a soft frown on her face. He tilts his head. "You alright, Snips?" he asks with worry.
She turns to face him, green eyes startling in their brightness, and she shakes her head, the corners of her lips turning up into a gentle smile. "Of course."
He dips his head, acknowledging her response, and he stands to prepare for battle.
The night before the battle, Obi-Wan doesn't sleep.
(It makes sense. He'd noticed how he hadn't even needed to eat, either, and neither did his padawans.)
Instead, in the midst of his meditation, he opens his eyes to find himself surrounded by the blue-green flames of the altar of Mortis.
The flames seem to flicker, blinking in and out of his vision, before a figure emerges from beyond the flames.
"I did not expect to see you here," Obi-Wan says in greeting.
"You are my legacy," the Father says in return. "I truly became one with the Force when I died. And so are you."
They stand in silence, the Father of Mortis and his legacy, before Obi-Wan breaks it with curiosity.
"We were told we cannot die." Out of habit, Obi-Wan strokes his beard, contemplating the revelations Ahsoka had thrust upon him and Anakin on the trip to Dathomir. "Yet there is a way, is there not? A key, much like the Dagger of Mortis."
"The Dagger was lost when I passed on." The Father dips his head. "No being can ever enter that prison again. It is lost in the Force; just as how your sanctuary shall be lost when you leave it."
Obi-Wan raises an eyebrow. "My sanctuary?" he asks, incredulous. "Surely, you can't mean that we are to be locked away as well!"
The Father only shakes his head. "We were not forced to isolate ourselves on Mortis," he corrects. "We chose to remove ourselves from the galaxy willingly."
Doubt colours Obi-Wan's voice. "Even your Son?"
"Even my Son," the Father confirms. A frown tugs on his lips. "It was my Daughter who went the most unwillingly to our Sanctuary. My Son saw the harm he could do and willingly brought himself to the Sanctuary before he truly Fell so that he might stop himself from harming others; but my Daughter, she saw only the good she could do, and the good she could not do if she were to be locked away."
Obi-Wan stares, lost in his thoughts, as he tries to imagine deliberately locking himself and his padawans away from the galaxy. He knows they would both chafe against such an idea - what is more, he himself chafes against the idea, too, unwilling to abandon a galaxy at war.
"I do not know if we would do the same," he confesses. "There is too much at stake should we remove ourselves from the galaxy."
"Then you will tear apart the very fabric of the universe." The Father gestures, the movements sharp with warning, and his eyes narrow. "Know this; should your Son fall in league with the Sith, there little that even you can do to undo the destruction that will be wrought across the galaxy."
Then he reaches forward, his finger striking the center of Obi-Wan's forehead, and Obi-Wan snaps his eyes open to see his padawans emerging from their visions.
Why was he so concerned?
He thinks back to the vision he's just had, but the memory of it is foggy, the words blurring together like mist, and he shakes his head. Now is not the time to dwell on a vision.
For now, he will prepare for battle.
An hour before dawn, the youngest of the Nightsisters are hidden in the deepest rooms in the coven. A spell is woven over their hiding place; no one will find them, for the entrance to their room looks like solid rock. But if need be, there is a back exit - one which opens into a well-hidden clearing that cannot be boxed in. The children are huddled together, singing songs to try and lift their spirits, while the older girls stand on high alert, ready to fight to their last breath if need be. Amongst them is Merrin, her fingers crackling with her newfound power, and she tries to teach the others in the room how to reach the magick within them.
Minutes later, another pair of hands shakes as magick leaps from their fingertips. Then another comes alight with power. Then another. Then another. And together, they stand ready to defend the last of their home if it ever comes to it.
Elsewhere in the coven, a dozen lines are set up. Sister after sister walks through the potion of invisibility that Ventress, Karis, and Naa'leth had used when they had tried to kill Dooku. It doesn't take long - the potion depletes itself quickly with so many sisters using it. Soon, the room is filled with the shadowy figures of the Nightsister warriors, their forms hidden from view and difficult to see to all except each other.
One of them - Ventress - leaps atop a jutting rock formation so that all may see her. "Remember our plans, sisters," she reminds them. "Take to the trees in the formations we had discussed. We will attack them from above and below."
The Nightsister Warriors do not wield magick - the ones who do, the Mages, are elsewhere in the coven. Still, it makes them no less deadly - their abilities with their long hunting knives and their plasma bows turns them into a group of formidable warriors. Combine that with their newly enhanced stealth and the leadership of Ventress, and they will be a force to be reckoned with.
On Ventress' signal, they move out, quickly dispersing to their positions. Ventress is the last to go - before she leaves the room, she pauses, then turns her head.
There's another presence in the room that's just as incorporeal as she is at the moment, yet it's not the presence of a sister.
Good luck, my dear, whispers the taunting voice of Obi-Wan Kenobi on the non-existent wind, and she rolls her eyes.
"As if I need it," she mutters. "I have your dumb Jedi luck on my side."
His laughter, completely silent in the air, rings in her ears as she leaves the room.
In another hidden room in the coven, Old Daka sits with the being that used to be a Togruta padawan, but is now so much more. Around them, other sister casters sit in a circle, with Mother Talzin sitting closest to the door.
Ahsoka sits cross-legged next to the elderly Nightsister, the white-gold glow from her skin bathing the walls with its light. On her seat, Daka sits with her eyes closed in a meditative posture, drawing in one slow breath, then another, then another. With each breath, Daka feels her own power growing, her magick rising in its potency.
To the side, Ahsoka sits with her eyes half-closed and her chest completely still. She draws no breath - she doesn't need to. Daka senses a strange pulse of power from the Winged Goddess, then it suddenly moves, going from the body of the Goddess into a near-invisible convor that Daka can just barely sense.
Then the convor vanishes in a burst of speed, too fast for the inner eye to follow, and Daka awaits her signal.
Outside, the rancor-riders race to their mounts. Though they have become like shadow thanks to the potion of invisibility, their rancors recognize them by smell, and they do not move to throw the unseen weight off their backs.
They form a quiet perimeter, and they wait.
At this time, the recon droids have long since retreated, moving back to their ships in preparation for the upcoming battle. Now, the larger ships descend through the atmosphere, cutting through the crimson fog with a sharp whine that's near-indiscernible on the ground. But to Ahsoka, whose consciousness is two hundred feet in the air in the form of Morai, she hears it and hears it well.
They're coming, Master, she sends through her bond, and she senses an affirmation from Anakin mixed with a buzzing anticipation for the coming battle.
On the other side of the planet, a singular shuttle breaks through the atmosphere and makes its way towards the Nightbrother dwellings. Though it cannot be heard from the ground, its arrival brings with it a sharp warning in the Force, and Maul snaps his head up as he senses the upcoming danger.
"Brothers!" he snarls, and his voice rings through the village. It is a simple trick to use the Force to amplify his voice - he'd known how to do it since he was a child. "They are arriving. Prepare for battle."
The Nightbrothers had worked quickly in the two days since Maul had arrived with a warning. The village had erected tall walls of stone, pulling it from their surroundings to ensure that when the droids arrive, they will arrive to find a bottleneck that will make it easier to deal with them. It had been easier than Maul had anticipated - the arrival of the Fanged God on the planet had strengthened the brothers twofold, making their blood sing with power that made it twice as easy to lift heavy stone. It had also made them faster in combat - despite himself, Maul had been somewhat impressed at their renewed prowess as he had prepared them for combat. He'd nearly been able to forget the fact that there were Jedi on this planet.
Then he had seen Savage.
Savage, who he'd thought had died when he'd woken up in a Jedi prison cell with a gap in his memory and with no one at the other end of his bond with his brother. Savage, who had been the one to aid him in a quest for revenge.
Savage, who is now small and weak and stripped of his power, and lacking the brutish anger that had permeated his presence when he had been Maul's apprentice.
Maul hadn't even realized that he'd spoken Savage's name out loud until Savage had turned to look at him with surprise and caution on his face.
"Brother?" Savage had replied cautiously, and for a moment, it had been just the two of them, and Maul had revelled in this strange feeling of joy at finding out that his brother was alive.
"Savage," he'd breathed again in response, and he'd had this sudden urge to run forward and to clasp arms with his brother to ensure that he was truly there, that he really was in front of him. For a moment, it really was just the two of them, brother looking at brother, drinking in the revelation that the other had survived.
Then anger had swept through him like a tidal wave, burning and destructive, and he'd twisted his face in a rage. "Kenobi did this," he'd snarled, the desire for revenge burning within him. "He made you weak and stripped you of your power."
Emotions had flashed across Savage's face, too fast for the eye to follow but easy to sense in the Force. Anger. Fear. Resentment. And, worst of all, bitterness towards… Maul?
"The Parent did this," Savage had corrected shortly. "Do you not remember what he-" Savage had cut himself off, unnamed thoughts flashing across his eyes as he'd understood.
"Kenobi took my memory," Maul had growled back. A thought had struck him then - an idea of revenge. Perhaps he himself wouldn't be able to kill Kenobi - not with the insufferable Jedi's newfound powers.
But surely, the Jedi Order knew nothing of Kenobi's new abilities. Maul had spent enough time under Sidious to understand that the Jedi Council was stagnant, unwavering, and fearful of change. If they learned of Kenobi's true power…
What better way to punish a Jedi than to make him an outcast in his own home?
Savage had shaken his head, bitterness making his presence sour. "Be it on your grave, brother," he'd said, voice heavy, and he'd moved away to help with preparations.
Now, two days later, Maul thinks again on his plan for revenge against Kenobi. A smile curls his lips. Good. A plan. A goal to be achieved after these droids are dealt with.
Pulled out of his ruminations with the thought of the droids, Maul's smile disappears, sensing the approaching danger in the Force. There's just one ship approaching - perhaps…?
Maul reaches out, grasping the ship with the Force, intending to pull it down. As if sensing his intent, the ship opens fire, forcing him to draw his saber and to lose his Force-grip on the ship in order to deflect the shots.
From above, on one of the high ledges surrounding the village, there's a loud groan. It begins as a soft sound, like the crumbling of rock, then it snowballs, growing louder and louder as a boulder pushed by a couple of Nightbrothers hidden on the top of the cliffs begins to gain speed. Three brothers leap in front of Maul, armed with rudimentary shields to deflect the blasts of the ship. It's not enough to last indefinitely - it's enough to stave off a dozen shots at best. But that's all they need. Taking the opportunity, Maul deactivates his saber and reaches out, pulling on his roiling hatred of these metal abominations that dare to invade his home, and he shouts. The sound comes like a snarl and a roar, animalistic in its nature, and the boulder that was dropped by his brothers shoots up and slams into the hull of the invading ship, thrown by the strength of Maul's seething rage.
For a moment, there's silence. Then the sound hits them - the resounding crash of rock against metal - and the ship falls, first slowly, then faster and faster until it slams into the ground with the boulder, and with it comes the sharp cracks of tree branches and the dull thump as it kicks up the dirt around the site of its impact. The dust washes over the walls of the village and over Maul and the three brothers, but he's wary.
It's not over. The sense of danger that he can sense in the Force still rings loudly, a keening wail that puts him on edge and makes his blood sing with anticipation for battle.
He stares at the site of the crash, waiting for the moment, and-
A panel from the wrecked ship creaks open. A long arm extends from within the ship, small bundles attached to the appendage. Then the bundles unfold and drop to the ground, malevolent red eyes glowing to life, and the battle droids extend their arms and begin their advance. It seems the crash had not been enough to destroy the portion of the ship that contained the army within.
Maul growls, his lightsaber once again alive in his hand, pulsing with its burning fire, and he rushes forward to meet the army with his brothers.
On the other side of the planet, the Nightsisters wait.
The warning comes like a whisper and a snarl and a growl all at once, ringing in their ears and soundless in the air, a warning of the Fanged God to the sisters as the shadows around their feet flicker and snap at their heels for a moment.
They're coming, he warns them, his voice as quiet as a breeze and as loud as a rancor's roar. Prepare yourselves.
And they do. Atop the trees, sisters cloaked in the potion of invisibility ready their bows. On the ground, the rancor-riders direct their mounts. Near the roots of the trees, the Nightsister Warriors ready their blades, and near the entrance to the coven Asajj Ventress draws her lightsabers, relishing in the crackling yellow-green of their colour.
Deep in the coven, Mother Talzin drops to her knees, pushing her hands into the ground, and she closes her eyes, drawing on the power of the Winged Goddess and on the potency of her own magick. The power surges through her blood, singing with excitement, and she snaps her eyes open to begin her spell. Around her, most of the other sisters hold out their hands, lending her their strength.
Most, but one.
Outside the coven, Ventress hears it the moment the ships break the atmosphere. It's hard to miss, especially for her - she'd spent over two years of her life fighting alongside those damned droids. Anger stirs, hot in her gut - was it not enough for Dooku that he'd betrayed her and left her for dead?
She imagines him with her lightsaber in his gut. A satisfying image - but for another day.
Around her, the shadows seem to loom more ominously than before, quivering slightly as if there's something moving between them that she can't see with her naked eye. What does make her uneasy is that while she knows that Skywalker (she knows her sisters call him the Fanged God, and that he's powerful and he's got a grudge against her, but she can't think of him as anything else other than Skywalker, thrice-damned and annoying as any Sith hells) is in the shadows, she can't sense him at all. It's as if his presence had become one with the Force of the planet, the same kaleidoscope of colours as the dull colour of the dying trees and the sharp green of the Nightsisters around her.
There's a high whine that pierces through the air that immediately draws her out of her thoughts. Missiles, shot from the ships, slice through the silence of Dathomir and slam into the pillars upholding the entrance to the coven, destroying stone and pulverising their foundations with a resounding crash that makes Ventress' ears ring. Her eyes narrow as she feels her rage burning in her gut.
There were no sisters at the entrance. She'd anticipated that it would be the first target, and she was right. Instead, she and the other warriors had taken cover at the roots of the trees, far enough away from the entrance to not get hit by debris, but close enough to be able to retreat as a last resort if need be.
She thinks she hears a clank in the distance, but she's not sure.
At the edge of her vision, Ventress sees Karis glancing over at her, unwilling to say anything into the silence but needing some reassurance. Ventress turns her head ever so slightly, giving her sister a nod, and she turns back to watch the forest.
Ah. Another clank. She's certain she didn't imagine it this time.
The sound begins to grow, starting first as a quiet buzz before growing louder and louder into an unstoppable rumble - the sound of a thousand metal feet marching as one. Under the rumble, Ventress can hear the sounds of rolling metal - the sound of a squadron of droidekas.
Dooku certainly hadn't spared any expense at eliminating her home. Her rage boils in anticipation, so hot and searing in her stomach as she clutches at her sabers, that she nearly jumps when a voice passes by her ear.
"Patience," it whispers, passing by her like a gust of blue-green wind, and only years of training to control her rage prevents her from snapping at the passing voice. Even so, she rolls her eyes, projecting her annoyance deeply into the Force.
"Don't do that, Kenobi," she mutters under her breath, and she ignores the chuckle she hears in her mind.
"It's as you predicted," the voice on the wind murmurs. To Ventress, it sounds like Kenobi's voice is coming from everywhere, from the fog and from the trees and from the ground underneath her boots, but one look around her dissuades her from the notion. Beside her, Karis stares forward, completely unaware of Kenobi's conversation with Ventress. "The droids are marching straight for the coven doors and are relying solely on their sheer numbers to overwhelm the Nightsisters. As for Grievous, he has yet to enter the atmosphere."
"Coward," Ventress hisses. Perhaps Dooku may not be here, but she'll settle for the next best thing. She itches to bury her sabers into Grievous - the coward. He'd always entered the battle after his droids, never leading the front. "He's mine."
Amusement leaks through the air. "Of course, my dear," Kenobi purrs. "He will be yours to kill."
She stares forward, her blood humming in anticipation of the coming battle. Though the fog is heavy and the trees thick, she can already see the beginnings of the droids in the far distance, their metal coverings glinting a sharp silver in the Dathomir air. Up in the trees, movement catches her eye - the movement of her archer sisters, drawing their bows in preparation. Though she can't see the others, she knows there are dozens more, scattered throughout the forest.
The sound of the marching droids, though far away, is already terrifyingly loud. If she has to guess, Ventress would estimate that there are nearly seven hundred droids that had arrived to take care of her small coven of one hundred and twenty-three.
She grits her teeth. To someone like Dooku, funding this number of droids would have been nothing but a tiny dent in his mountain of wealth. Her hands itch again to bury her sabers in his body and to make him suffer.
But enough about Dooku. First the droids, then Grievous. Dooku is not worth giving attention to when he hasn't even bothered showing his face here. She looks up, staring at the oncoming droids, and she thinks she sees a hint of several defoliator tanks, their cannons already poised to fire. Her eyes widen.
Those will be her first target. But not yet.
The signal comes, a single word whispered from the shadows, the timing carefully calculated thanks to years of experience on the battlefield as a general. Above her, Ventress senses more than hears the collective breath of her sisters as they take careful aim, and then they release upon the word of the Fanged God.
Fire.
The sky lights up in a hail of plasma arrows.
At the back of a room, deep within the coven, Old Daka reaches deep within herself, drawing on the magick in her blood and in the core of the planet. It calls to her, a siren song of power and beauty, and she opens herself up to it completely, falling deeply into it and allowing herself to be lost in the magick. At her side, she can sense the brilliant power of the Winged Goddess, a pulsing pool of strength, and Daka draws from it. Words rise, unbidden, passing through her mind and flowing from her lips.
Choono slalem denni tay'lori olee-ay.
Daka feels it the moment the power within her blooms, snapping out of her core and flowing to her limbs. She opens her eyes, seeing not what is in front of her but rather the magick in the air, invisible to those who are not sisters.
Lucheno vadem klavlane.
The magick is thick on Dathomir. In the distance, she can see concentrated pockets of magick - these are the presences of each sister. Around the presence of Ventress, the magick is distinct, diffused and refined into something different. Something darker.
Blenay vedi nalem koreem. Blenay vedi nalem koreem.
Daka waves her hands, allowing the magick to flow through her fingertips and into the air. She feels it as her power bursts out of her body, flowing through the wall and into the trees around the coven. She directs it, reaching for the faded pockets of magick where she can sense the presence of the resting sisters - the ones who have long passed on, but who decided to entomb their bodies on the trees so they could possibly serve their coven once more.
Villos susko kono lamal!
The power that Daka can sense flowing off the presence of the Winged Goddess adds to her own strength, tugging at the resting sisters. With the magick so potent in the air, Daka can see with her inner eye the shape of the resting sisters within their circular tombs, curled up like infants waiting to be born. She sees also the rotting flesh and the stark white of bone, and she sees how the resting sisters begin to twitch as the magick begins to pass through them.
Vlemon tagoo!
With a great mental heave, Daka thrusts her power forward, pushing it towards the resting sisters, commanding them to serve their coven one last time. With her inner eye, she sees their presences strengthening, the magick within them adding new edges and sharpening the coldness she senses from them, and she smiles.
Rise, dead sisters.
Rise.
Rise!
The sky above the droid army lights up in a brilliant purple, tearing through their infantry and splashing harmlessly against the hull of the tanks. Within seconds, nearly two dozen droids have already fallen, their bodies pierced by the plasma arrows.
The droids are unfazed. They'd expected some resistance, anyway. With no trace of panic in his voice, the commander gives an order. "Open fire!"
Red blaster bolts join the fray, slicing through the air and into the branches of trees. Loud cracks sound as the trees begin to groan, their branches falling under the assault, slamming into the ground with a loud crash that only adds to the rumble of marching metal feet and the constant whine of discharged plasma bolts.
In the middle of the storm of noise, peeking out of a tank, a droid stares through his macrobinoculars to try to locate targets for his tank. He jerks it around, staring through the branches and trying to see where the plasma arrows are coming from. One of them zips perilously close to his head, and he jumps. "Ahh!"
"B1-9340, do you have a location?" one of the other droid calls, tinny voice straining to be heard over the din.
"That's the thing. I can't see any of them!" he calls back, his macrobinoculars sweeping through the branches of the trees. With his photoreceptors pressed against the macrobinoculars, he doesn't see the droid that addressed him exploding in a shower of sparks. "I can see where the bolts are coming from, but there's no one there! They're coming from thin air!"
"The defoliator tanks don't need specific coordinates." From the sound of B1-9340's comm, the tactical droid's monotone sounds out. "Give a vector and fire."
"Roger, roger," B1-9340 replies. If he'd been programmed with the ability, he would have shrugged. "Fire at a thirty-nine degree angle!"
Underneath the noise of battle, the whir of the defoliator tanks goes unnoticed by most as they move into position. What does get noticed is the burst of sound as they fire, the blast slamming into the ground and burning all around the impact area, lighting the forest around the coven with a bright red-gold as flames begin to lick at the trees.
Farther behind the battle lines, the tactical droid TX-98 observes the scene with a critical eye. The blasts had, as anticipated, lit up the scene, but there is something that does not compute. There is a strange green mist that seems to seep through the air and around the humanoid silhouettes he can see approaching. Running a quick analysis, the tactical droid notes that something does not compute.
There's something strange about these silhouettes and the way that they are moving. Their movements are strange and jerky, their shapes too thin and deformed, their speed too fast for a regular Nightsister. TX-98 wonders if they have been enhanced by potions - after all, the information he had downloaded into his processing system had informed him that the Nightsisters practiced magick - but it still doesn't compute.
Then the new sound reaches him.
It pierces the air, an unhinged shriek of unbridled rage as the strange silhouettes rapidly approach. With the advancing wave of silhouettes, he gets a close look and pauses. Servos stall and his processor screeches to a temporary halt as he tries to understand the image he is seeing through his photoreceptors.
This truly does not compute. Nightsisters should not be surrounded by a green mist that leaks from their eyes. Nightsisters should not be covered in rotting flesh and teeth. Nightsisters should not have the stark white of bone shining through torn and decomposed muscle. Nightsisters should not have jaws that unhinge so widely they display the torn flesh skin of their cheek muscles. Nightsisters shouldn't-
The only explanation that he can think of is that they are dead. But the dead should not move. It does not compute.
If TX-98 had been sentient, he would have been frozen in fear.
As they approach, he catches sight of a blaster bolt ripping through one of the advancing bodies. It pierces through the body's chest, ripping a hole clean through, yet all the body does is jerk slightly, then continue, running forward at the same speed as before. It opens its mouth again in a high-pitched screech before a shot from a tank blasts the body into pieces, but just as quickly as the body was destroyed, another takes its place.
"Defoliators 03, 05, and 06." TX-98 calculates a quick estimate, then transmits the new attack vector through his comms. "Reconfigure your attack to the new vector."
The whir of the defoliator tanks readjusting is lost again over the sound of blaster bolts. What is not lost, however, is the sound of the first blast of the defoliator as it strikes the ground, burning the dirt around it and vaporizing huge swaths of the endless horde of the undead. What is also not lost is the sudden groan of the ground being uprooted as something completely unanticipated occurs.
The branches of one of the trees lining the forest corridor shifts, first slowly, then with a sudden swiftness, throws out its long spindly limbs to wrap around the barrel of one of the defoliator tanks. The tree jerks, throwing the tank off course and into another one, illuminating the droid army with a spectacular explosion of red-gold as the tanks collide, breaking a path through the droid army with a loud screech of metal against metal.
Then another tree pulls out its roots, moving to lash its limbs around another defoliator tank, and then another, and then another, and then-
If this keeps up, TX-98 knows that they will lose all of their tanks - not just the defoliator tanks, but also the normal ones, too, and what is more, TX-98 knows that the trees can decimate the infantry forces quickly.
Processors whir. Servos spin. TX-98 raises his hand to the comm and opens a channel. "Bring in the hyena bombers," he orders, and closes the channel.
On the other side of the planet, it takes little time to get rid of the droids. They had anticipated an unprepared village of brutes; while they were known to be warriors, the physical prowess of one with a staff or a blade meant nothing when blaster bolts were involved. But the Nightbrothers had been prepared, and what is more, the droids had not anticipated the arrival of a Sith Lord.
Maul never hesitates. He rushes through the flanks, his blade a constant whir of crimson as he decimates the droids one by one. Behind him, Savage and the other Nightbrothers take care of the few droids that remain in the wake of Maul's destructive wave.
Then a lucky shot gets by, and strikes Savage in the side.
Maul senses it when it happens. It comes like an explosion of pain in the Force, freezing him for a millisecond before a deep-seated rage explodes from every fiber of his being towards the droids. How dare they-
It is over in ten seconds. The last of the droids is cut down by his blade and his brothers' weapons, and Maul leaps backwards in impatience. "Brother!" he shouts. "Savage!"
On the ground, Savage is curled around the wound in his side. It is deep but not fatal - if he is given care, he will live. Hatred swells in Maul once again - it is Kenobi's fault that Savage had become so weak. He stands, a snarl ripping itself out of his throat as the healers converge on Savage and the other wounded.
"Brother," Savage calls out weakly, "Don't-"
But Maul pays him no heed, just as he pays the bodies of the other dead Nightbrothers no heed. Nothing matters now. Nothing but revenge.
There are five things that TX-98 does not know as he orders the hyena bombers to begin their attack.
One: In random pockets, scattered around the middle of the droid army, they begin to disappear. First one, then another, then another, and then a dozen have disappeared.
"What's happening?" B1-2189 demands. "Where-"
And with a scream, his next step disappears into the shadows of the trees above before he's pulled into the ground without a trace.
"B1-2189!" Another droid calls, startled, before he, too, feels his foot sinking into the ground. "Wait, no! Not me! No-!"
Around them, dark laughter rings out, coming from the shadows they cast on the ground and those of the trees. It rings and rings and rings, like a constant taunt snarling on the wind, and one of the droids turns his attention to the ground. "Get away!" he shouts, tinny voice strained in terror. He pulls the trigger again and again, shooting at the ground and trees and hitting nothing. "Get- AHH!"
And he disappears.
Stupid droids, laughs the voice from the shadows, menacing and amused. Tell Count Dooku I send him my best wishes.
Two: Though the defoliators illuminated the undead, TX-98 did not see the advancing rancors, hidden in the trees. One of the defoliators had struck true, burning through the rancor's shell and throwing aside its rider into a tree with a sickening crack. What TX-98 does not see now is the scorched body of the dead rancor and the broken body of its rider, visible now that the Nightsister riding it has died, the spell of invisibility over her body dispelled.
What he also does not see is the line of green magick circling back to hover around the rancor and its dead rider. What he does not see is the way the dead Nightsister's body shudders, like a puppet slowly being moved by new strings, before the dead eyes blink open, glassy and unfocused and unnaturally green. What he does not see is the sudden, jerky motions of the rancor, and how its eyes - one dead and glassy, the other scorched until there is nothing but an empty socket - snap open, green mist pouring from them. What he does not hear is the screech of the undead Nightsister and the howl of the undead rancor as the sister runs to join the horde, her former mount lumbering behind her in an uneven gait.
A ways off, in another portion of the forest, Ventress does see this. What is more, she smells it too - the odor of burnt flesh is not something new to her, yet now, there's something about seeing the moving corpse of her dead sister that makes her feel slightly ill. But there's no time for that.
She ignites her sabers, the blades made invisible from the potion of invisibility, and they leap through the trees in silence, preparing to flank the droids from all sides.
Three: While TX-98 does know that there are two squadrons of specialized commando droids dispatched to take care of Tano and Kenobi specifically, he doesn't realize how one of the squadrons is already disabled.
It happened like this:
While the infantry began marching along the first corridor, the squadron targeting Kenobi had flanked to the left while the one assigned to eliminate Tano had flanked to the right, taking a wide berth in the branches of the trees to avoid detection until it was too late. The squadron on the left had lept through the trees soundlessly, moving to avoid the rancors they could see moving, before their scanners had given them a target.
There, on the trees: a human form.
They'd crept forward, ready to draw the electrostaffs strapped to their back (for embedded deep in their program was the knowledge of the uselessness of blaster bolts against Jedi), before leaping as one towards the human form.
But it was gone.
They'd been unfazed. The leader of the squadron had quickly analyzed the situation and sent an electronic signal to its mates to search the area. The damned red fog on Dathomir did them no favours, and strangely enough, there was a new blue-green tint to the air-
Then the leader of the squadron had frozen, as if held in place by an invisible grip, and it had crumpled into itself like a ball of paper in a fist. Then, before the rest of the squadron could react, they too folded into themselves, crushed by a telekinetic grip strong enough to pulverise metal.
The blue-green mist had coalesced briefly, and if anyone had been around, they would have heard a trace of an amused chuckle before it vanished.
Four: Leaping through the trees and running around the massive roots, TX-98 cannot see a portion of the advancing Nightsister warriors and archers, cloaked in the potion of invisibility. They run around, flanking the droid army, before decimating it from the sides, moving together like an invisible blade cutting deeply into the army.
Though they are invisible, they are not invincible. In the midst of cutting their way through the droid army, some Nightsisters fall, becoming visible as the potion of invisibility wears off in death. To the droids, it is as if dead Nightsisters are suddenly appearing in their midst.
Then, with a great shudder, the newly-appeared bodies rise and howl, and they join the hordes of the undead, their wounds still fresh with the smell of burnt flesh that has already begun to rot.
Five: Since TX-98 cannot see through the potion of invisibility or into the Force, he does not see how many Nightsisters are struck by lucky blaster bolts that fly through the trees. There are enough battle droids shooting to strike the Nightsisters by chance. Some sisters are struck in the head or the chest. These ones lurch, falling to the ground, still in death, before the green mist circles back and draws them to join their undead sisters.
Yet, there are other lucky shots too; glancing blows to the side or the neck, or shots which pierce through arms and legs or scorch off ears. These ones are deadly in time; but they are not immediately fatal. It is here that TX-98 cannot see how every time a sister is struck with a non-lethal blow, she gasps, before a white-gold blur in the Force strikes the sister and heals her wounds. This happens again and again and again; had the white-gold healer not been there, many of the sisters would have fallen long ago.
It is thanks to this blur of white-gold that the Nightsisters are still able to hold their ground. There are simply too many tanks, too many droids, too many blaster bolts for them to have held their ground without extra aid.
But they have gods on their side.
All these things happen at once. All these things happen as TX-98 orders the attack of the Hyena bombers on the trees.
(But, like all things standing under a light source, TX-98 casts a shadow.)
Did you hear that, Master?
Yes. I did. I'll take care of the tactical droid and the others on the ground.
Leaving all the flying to me, huh?
Ha, ha. Very funny. Be careful, Anakin.
Who, me? I'm always careful.
Through the Force, a sudden swell of indignant exasperation makes itself known. Of course you are. Now go on.
Alright, alright.
From behind one of the large tanks, the shadows seem to swell as a darkened form emerges from the ground, then shoots upwards, moving too quickly for even electronic eyes to see. One of the droids has the presence of mind to send a quick report to General Grievous, reporting of a large, bat-like creature with wings that had flown to intercept the bombers. Maybe it was a gargoyle?
Another droid reports heavier resistance than anticipated. Grievous reports this to Dooku, yet they both have little concern in their voices when they discuss this.
"These witches will exhaust their sorcery before half of the battle is over," Dooku says dismissively. "No matter how powerful they are, even Mother Talzin cannot withstand the might of the droid army."
Grievous laughs, the sound gritty and dark, and he thinks of the hundreds of droids still not yet deployed. He and Dooku had taken no chances.
He cuts the connection, and watches the tactical display as the hyena bombers approach to strike the Nightsisters from above.
But then, they begin to fall.
Above the battle, the sky comes alight with crimson lightning.
First there are seven hyena bombers, all flying in formation.
Then there are six, then five, then four, then-
And they fall, crashing harmlessly into the forest below as a dark demon flies above them.
Then the demon, too, falls, diving back into the shadows and disappearing without a trace.
At the same moment, the tank within which the tactical droid stands fills suddenly with a blue-green mist. The fog coalesces, taking a vaguely human shape that seems to give the semblance of a salute.
"Give Count Dooku my regards," the voice taunts, and the mist disperses, spreading out to encompass the entire tank. Before TV-98 can even reach for his comm, the entire tank crumples like paper in a deafening screech of metal, crushing him from within. The hunk of scrap metal that used to be a tank then throws itself aside, crashing through hordes of droids before coming to a halt near a large tree.
The blue-green mist hangs in the air for but a moment, then vanishes.
Deep within the coven, a sudden spike of danger alerts Mother Talzin, forcing her to end the spell animating the trees. A squadron of commando droids had snuck through their defenses, and began blasting their way through the wall of stone, their blasts shaking the walls.
Talzin turns, staring at the still forms of Old Daka and the Winged Goddess. Both of them cannot fight these droids - the Winged Goddess' consciousness is occupied elsewhere as she heals the sisters on the field of battle while Old Daka reanimates the dead.
"Sisters," Talzin orders the rest of the mages surrounding her. "Behind me. Lend me your strength."
She takes a deep breath, focusing on her senses. Animating the trees had taken much of her power; though she had been able to tear away at a significant portion of the droid army, they still marched on, too numerous for the Nightsisters to claim a swift victory. She focuses now on the feeling of her breath filling her lungs, of the softness of the fabric of her robes and the solid rock beneath her feet. She focuses on the magick of the sisters around her and of the Light of the Winged Goddess, pulling from all these things to ground herself and give her strength.
As the commando droids blast through the wall, Talzin summons the magick within herself and pushes it outwards. It manifests itself in two ways, forming a protective barrier around her body that absorbs the shots, and redirects it out of her hands in the form of green lightning. One droid falls, then another, then another - but there are too many of them. Some of them leap around her blasts, guns poised to shoot at Daka and at the Winged Goddess, and Talzin throws out an arm. Several more droids fall - but one fires its shot towards Old Daka, and Talzin screams. "No!"
Then the blast halts, impossibly suspended in the air, before a blue-green mist emerges from beyond the wall and surrounds the room. The blast turns, screaming back the way it came, and pierces the body of the droid. Three more droids crumple in on themselves, folding inwards with deafening crunches of metal, and Talzin immediately throws her hand forward as her green lightning incinerates the remainder of the droids.
She falls to her knees briefly, exhausted from the effort. "Thank you, Great One," she calls out, and she watches as the blue-green mist swirls, forming the semblance of the Parent's human form.
"I do believe that the coven is making good progress cutting through the droid army," he tells her. "I can also sense that Grievous has landed. I suspect that Ventress will engage him in combat soon."
Talzin's face darkens. "Dooku's minion will not stop in his mission to eradicate our clan," she tells him warningly. "No matter what he promises, he will never keep his word."
The Parent's form dips his head in acknowledgement. "I understand. I'll keep watch."
"Thank you," she says, and she watches as he disappears once again into thin air.
(Warning for vivid descriptions of body horror and gore in this section.)
It takes little time for the defoliators to be destroyed. It takes even less time for Ventress, Karis, and Naa'leth to take control of one of the tanks, using it to carve a path of destruction to the heart of the droid army, where she knows Grievous awaits.
The Nightsisters move forward - an army three hundred strong, even with the hordes of the undead - and Ventress takes a chance. She reaches deep within herself, focusing on her Force presence and the magick that permeates it, and she expels the magick of the potion of invisibility.
The droids don't notice. She is but one sister out of many; and among the advancing undead and the rancors which crush the droids from behind her, she is beneath their notice.
But they do notice her as she begins to run atop their heads, sprinting for the ship she can see close-by in the distance. She leans into the Force for a burst of speed, and runs so quickly it is as if she is flying above the heads of the droids, too fast for blaster bolts to catch. Her appearance does another thing, too - it distracts the droids, making them turn their heads, allowing her sisters to catch the droids by surprise.
Then she lands on the ground before the ship, and sees her goal. She holds up a hand, stalling her advancing sisters, just as Grievous holds out a hand to stop his Magnaguards from attacking.
"Surprised?" she taunts him. In the corner of her eye, she sees a flash of white-gold to one corner and a glimpse of something blue-green elsewhere, and she is sure that Grievous' shadow is flickering despite the fact that he isn't moving that way.
"Hardly." Grievous' voice holds all the malice she remembers. Oh, she is going to enjoy killing him. "You're the one I was sent here for."
A smile curls her lips, first twisting up one corner, then the other. She knows exactly how to appeal to him. "Then fight me alone. Prove you're the greater warrior." She gestures. "If I win, your army leaves. If you win, the Nightsisters will surrender to you."
"I've always been greater than you." Grievous laughs, the sound garbled and menacing. Ventress ignites her sabers. Here, at the heart of her power with magick and the Force singing in her blood, she knows she will win.
He rushes forward, four lightsabers spinning in a mechanical whir, and she meets him head-on.
Ventress knows - intimately - why so many Jedi have fallen to Grievous' blades. His mechanical enhancements have made him faster than any living being with the ability of foresight, and even then, it is difficult to keep him at bay. It is hard enough to fight someone with two lightsabers - to fight a skilled warrior like him with four is even harder. He comes at her in a blur of blue and green, sabers moving too quickly to be tracked with the naked eye, and she leans into the Force as she meets him blade by blade.
It is as if she is being pummeled by all sides. Four sabers come at her at once, all impossibly fast and in different directions, but she is faster. Dathomir is her home - she can feel the singing in her blood and the power at her fingertips - and she uses it, wielding her blades with years of experience. Muscle memory takes over, bringing her blades around and over and around again, blocking many furious strokes which would have killed her many times over.
And she recognizes his fighting style. Of course she does. Dooku had trained Grievous - but he had trained her too.
Her arms shake under the weight of Grievous' blows. She grits her teeth, throwing one arm high and another low to block three of his sabers in one fell swoop, but a fourth one strikes out at her face, forcing her to leap back to avoid his blow. Immediately, she throws herself forward once again, attacking with a ferocity that prevents him from going on the defensive. She will not lose. Her pride demands victory.
Her breaths come hard and fast as the duel goes on. Her muscles burn with the familiar exertion of battle; her legs are beginning to tire already. She screams, leaning into the Force to give her a burst of speed, and she twists her sabers just so-
She feels it when her blade shears through one of Grievous' arms, cutting through metal and a saber in a shower of sparks. He shouts in pain, falling to the ground, and she raises her sabers. "It's over," she snarls.
But Grievous only laughs. "Kill her!" he calls out to his droids, and they begin to fire into her and her sisters, catching them unprepared. Before Ventress can bring her sabers down on Grievous, she's forced on the defensive as a dozen B2 Super Battle Droids turn their guns on her, pushing her back. Behind her, in the Force, she feels a sudden surge of presences that blink out, sharpen, and then are twisted as her sisters are shot down and reanimated into the army of the undead.
"Coward!" she screams at Grievous, furious, and still he laughs at her. "You backstabbing, filthy-"
Then it happens.
The ship from which Grievous came begins to crumple in on itself in a loud screech of cold metal being forced inwards. He barely makes it off the ramp before it, too, folds inwards, taking two of the magnaguards and the rest of the droids inside that ship with it. At the same time, to the side of the battlefield, the droids shooting at Ventress pause in confusion before the ground swallows them whole, their shadows elongating and widening to consume them.
Grievous whirls on her, three sabers ignited and poised to attack. "Enough of this!" he shouts. "After you die, I will deal with the Jedi slime myself-"
The Force surges, a riotous whirl of righteous anger, and Ventress throws herself backwards as a massive blur of white-gold appears before her vision. What was once a convor in the Force has become a griffin, resplendent in its beauty and terrifying to behold, and it opens its mouth to deliver a sentence, its voice a growl that sends shivers down Ventress' spine while also ringing like bells across the forest. Around them, droids and Nightsisters alike turn in surprise to stare as the projected form the Winged Goddess manifests itself into the corporeal world.
"General Grievous," the Goddess - and finally, Ventress truly sees the Goddess and not just the pesky Togruta padawan - intones, "Your crimes against the galaxy are at an end."
Two forms coalesce in front of the goddess - the Fanged God, emerging from Ventress' own shadow like a demon rising from the depths of the planet, and the Parent, the blue-green mist coming together to form a humanoid shape. In front of her, Grievous' eyes widen in recognition.
"General Kenobi," he says, surprise overriding fear. "And- Anakin Skywalker."
"General Grievous," taunts Skywalker - only this isn't Skywalker but the Fanged God - his mouth splitting open his face from ear to ear and half his body collapsed unnaturally into shadow. "You're shorter than I expected."
The Force around Grievous darkens in anger, but before he can do anything more, Kenobi reaches out, gesturing with his hands, and the lightsabers held in Grievous' grip wink out.
Ventress gapes. She can't help it. Her lips open in surprise, incredulousness leaking from her shields, and fear stutters across her mind. If they can do that-
"In the name of the Galactic Republic," Kenobi says, voice neutral, "you are under arrest, General Grievous."
One of Grievous' feet sinks into the ground up to his knee, pulled into the shadows, while the other leg is ripped apart with a sharp gesture from the Parent. Sparks fly as metal is ripped apart and crumbled to dust.
Behind Ventress, a new sound intrudes - the sound of lightning. She turns, staring, as Mother Talzin appears from the forest, arms spread. Green bolts crackle from her fingertips, eliminating what is left of the droid army and preventing any interference. It takes little time - any blaster bolts shot her way from the droids are absorbed into the green shield around her body - and soon, there are no more droids left.
Except Grievous.
For the first time in her life, Ventress can sense unbridled terror pouring from Grievous in waves. But there is one thing she knows.
When a cornered animal is desperate, it is at its most dangerous.
She senses it a quarter of a millisecond before it happens. Moving too quickly for the eye to see, and so quickly that by the time Ventress reacts, she's sure it's too late, Grievous reaches for three other spare sabers at his belt and hurls them at the gods.
Or- he tries. One saber passes harmlessly through the Parent, the blue-green mist dissolving and reforming into a frowning human, but the other two never make it out of his hands. Acting on pure instinct, the Winged Goddess sends a surge of healing towards Grievous, and it does the unthinkable.
**He was Kaleesh before he'd removed most of his body to implant cybernetics. But now, with the surge of healing coming from a goddess, he becomes a full Kaleesh once more as he howls in agony. Skin and muscle regenerate, growing under and around the wiring and metal plates, and he screams as the crunch of bone being formed around a metal skeleton makes itself known. Around the white metal coverings of his body, skin begins to appear, crawling over the plates, and blood begins to pour to the ground as the newly deformed Kaleesh body of General Grievous regenerates around his metal skeleton.**
Force, Ventress had never heard anyone scream like that, and she'd had her fair share of time involved in torturing prisoners. She imagines hearing Dooku screaming like this, and vindication rushes through her like a flame.
She thinks and hears all this as she is in the motion of leaping high above the Goddess, having anticipated the flying lightsaber blades that had never been thrown. Then gravity wins out, and Ventress comes thundering towards the ground, bringing her blades down with a shout of victory. Her first blade slices through his chest from shoulder to neck; the second cuts his head in half, and then it's over.
Force.
It's over.
She stares at the bloody caricature of a Kaleesh body at her feet, then at the gods. Kenobi's face is a picture of mild shock; beside him, Skywalker's eyebrows are raised, and the griffin's expression is impossible to discern.
"He would have revealed your identities," she manages to say. Her mind is blank. She thought she'd feel happy with the death of Grievous, but she's not so sure she wanted it to end like this. She feels empty. Her lightsabers feel too warm in her hands, her breath is coming too quickly, and her muscles are burning.
Behind her, she senses movement. She turns. One by one, her sisters drop to their knees, bowing before the display of power demonstrated by the gods. Even Mother Talzin bows her head in acknowledgement of power.
Ventress can't bring herself to bow.
The griffin advances, its breath hot on Ventress' face, then it croons, sending a pulse of forgiveness through the Force. It shimmers, disappearing from the corporeal world and shrinking in size to once again become a convor that Ventress can only see in the Force, and it disappears, flying with impossible speed back towards the coven.
Skywalker's eyes seem to search her. Gold rimmed in crimson stares into pale blue, and for the first time, Ventress thinks of how Skywalker's eyes are the same colour as Count Dooku when he had delved deeply into the Dark Side.
Then their eyes are drawn to the sound of Kenobi's voice.
"You may rise," he calls to the kneeling Nightsisters, and they move unsteadily to their feet as the adrenaline of battle wears off. Already, the stench of burnt and rotting flesh has begun to intensify as the undead stand, still animated yet unmoving. "You have all fought valiantly today. You have won, but at a cost - let us take the next few days to recover."
As if Old Daka were listening to Kenobi's words (and perhaps she was), the undead suddenly collapse, falling bonelessly to the ground as the animation spell ends. The sound of a hundred bodies hitting the ground is horrifying - like a crunch and thud, magnified tenfold - and Ventress thinks she wants to be sick as she stares at all the bodies of her sisters, some of them long decayed and rotten, some of them with still-fresh blaster bolts in their heads.
For a moment, no one moves as they stare at the bodies.
Then Talzin waves her hand, levitating one of the bodies to bring to the coven, and the remaining sisters begin to bustle, moving to help one another. A sudden weakness overwhelms Ventress, and she hunches forward, hooking her sabers to her belt and putting her hands on her knees to catch her own breath.
"Are you quite alright, my dear?" Kenobi asks her, and despite her exhaustion, Ventress can't help but bark out a laugh. Even as a god, Kenobi flirts with every living thing he sees.
"I will be," she tells him, drawing on the Force for strength. The presence of Skywalker - once an uncertain Light, now a burning Dark - invigorates her, filling her with the energy of the Dark Side she has learned to harness over the years. She swallows her pride as she looks at the bloodstained corpse of General Grievous. "Thank you," she tells them.
"Of course," Skywalker says easily, but there's an undercurrent of malice in his voice.
"Anakin," Kenobi admonishes. "Come, now. Let's help the others with the clean-up."
Ventress sighs, and with great effort, brings herself to join her sisters. She'll get a promise out of Skywalker and Kenobi to bring vengeance to Dooku.
She knows she will. She vows it.