notes: I was hoping to get this out yesterday, but my beta was busy, so today it was.

I have massive writer's block right now, so I don't know when the next chapter is going to be finished. I'm hoping next Sunday - though some encouragement may help with the writer's block. So (as usual, just this time I'm asking out of necessity rather than desire), if you want to see the next chapter sooner rather than later, maybe think about leaving a review.

Most importantly, though, is that I hope you enjoy!


CHAPTER 10

The next month passed in a haze of pain and frustration for Leia. She visited the Medical Wing seven more times, and each time Dr. Ammit tried to convince her to stop fighting the Emperor and to train. Each time Leia refused, the memory of Shmi and her warning loud and clear in her mind.

As the days passed, Leia found that the pain inflicted by Sixth Sister held less power over her. She learned how to push it aside, how to go elsewhere in her thoughts where the pain could not touch her. While it still kept her up at night, leaving her tired and cranky the next morning, she learned how to let her thoughts drift to places full of peace, where she was free of the Inquisitors and their beatings and her hunger.

Shmi only visited her once more, after Sixth Sister delivered a particularly brutal lesson.

"I am proud of you," she told Leia, gathering her close in a tight hug. Leia went willingly, sniffling back tears, and she buried her face in Shmi's shoulder. She smelled of jasmine and dry, desert air.

"Why haven't you come to see me?" Leia asked into Shmi's shoulder.

"Because you didn't need me," Shmi replied. "You've been fighting and learning and growing all on your own."

"But I don't want to do it on my own," Leia said.

"Some things you must do yourself," Shmi told her. "I am here to encourage and support you—but I can't fight for you, and I can't carry you. You must fight, and win, your own battles."

"Why are they hurting me?" Leia asked, small and sad and scared.

"Because they think that will break you," Shmi told her.

"Oh."

A beat. Then, "You're so strong, Leia," Shmi said. "You're so brave."

"I don't feel like it," Leia replied.

"But you are."

"I don't know how long I can say no," Leia admitted softly.

"Just take it one day at a time," Shmi told her.

Leia nodded against her shoulder. "Okay."

Leia also dreamed about the boy again. They explored the garden, telling each other about their planets—the boy talked about a great planet that orbited so close to its sun that the whole surface was desert, the equator uninhabitable because of the heat; Leia told him about the mountains and the oceans of Alderaan, and the city that had been her home—then they went into the house and remembered their games and laughter from when they had played there as little children.

"I can't believe I've never asked you this before, but what's your name?" the boy asked, just as Leia felt the first tuggings of wakefulness pull at her mind and body.

"I'm L—" She cut herself off. What did she tell this boy? The name her parents had given her, or what she was now? "I'm 851," she said finally, softly.

The boy frowned. "That's not a name."

"It's my designation," Leia said.

"Well do you have another name?" the boy asked. "What about the one your mom and dad gave you?"

"Leia," Leia said, even softer. "That's what Mamá and Papá named me."

"Then that's what I'll call you," the boy said. He grinned. "And I'm Luke."

"Luke," Leia said, tasting the name on her tongue. It seemed perfect—seemed right, somehow, as if she had known his name the whole time. She smiled then. "Thank you, Luke."

"For what?"

Leia shrugged. "For everything, I guess."

Luke shrugged. "Sure," he said, though he sounded like he still didn't understand.

"Will I see you again, Luke?" Leia asked. The pull on her body was stronger now, and it was taking nearly all of her concentration to stay there.

"Yes," Luke said, and stepping forward he gave her a quick hug. "Bye," he said.

"Bye," Leia said, still smiling.

Then, as the month ended and a new one began, something changed.

"Here," Sixth Sister said one morning, and pressed a cup of water into Leia's hands. "Drink."

Leia obeyed warily, taking one careful sip then another. The water tasted funny—sweeter than usual, and heavy—but when Leia tried to stop drinking, Sixth Sister threatened, "Drink it, or I will hold you down and pour it down your throat myself." Leia drank.

When Sixth Sister led Leia into the practice court fifteen minutes later, Leia was surprised to see that her usual trainers were gone. Instead there was only one man standing there, his hands clasped behind his back, his face settled into a grim frown.

He was tall and grey-skinned, his forehead pronounced, his skin—much like Sixth Sister's—stretched taut over too much bone. His eyes were sunk deep into his skull, forming hollow shadows, and there were red markings beneath them and on his forehead. He was dressed all in black and grey, with pauldrons and a half-breastplate burned with the Imperial crest.

"Hello, 851," he said. His voice was rich and smooth, like oil.

Leia eyed him warily. What was he doing here? Where were Ninth Brother and Thirteenth Sister, Danyil and Cora?

"I am the Grand Inquisitor," the tall man said. "You will address me as such, or as sir. Am I understood?"

Leia nodded.

"I didn't hear you," the Grand Inquisitor said.

"Yes, sir," Leia said cautiously.

The Grand Inquisitor smiled. "Come here, 851," he ordered.

Leia sat.

"Sixth Sister?" he said. "Bring her to me."

Sixth Sister grabbed Leia by the hair and dragged her to him. Leia yelped, reaching up and grasping at Sixth Sister's hand and wrist, kicking her feet against the floor, trying to rise to ease the pain in her scalp. When they neared Grand Inquisitor, Sixth Sister heaved and threw Leia at his feet.

"Thank you, Sixth Sister," the Grand Inquisitor said. "You may go."

Sixth Sister bowed and left.

"Stand up, 851."

Leia sat up, crossed her arms, and glared. Her head hurt, and her mouth felt like cotton, and she did not like the way the Grand Inquisitor felt—slick and sharp, like knives hidden beneath satin.

"Stand up, 851, or I will make you stand up."

Leia did not move.

The Grand Inquisitor raised a hand and flicked his fingers.

Strong bands of pure power, hard like durasteel and smooth like glass, wrapped themselves around Leia's chest. The Grand Inquisitor made a motion with his hand, and the bands of power constricted, then lifted, hoisting Leia to her feet.

She struggled. Thrashing, she tried to rip the bands off of her, scratching and pulling at her clothes, her skin. Nothing worked. She kicked her legs and twisted her body, but to no avail. Still she rose, slowly and inexorably, until she was on her feet.

"When I give you an order, 851," the Grand Inquisitor said, "I expect you to obey it. If you do not, I will force you to—and after that, you will be punished."

A spear of pain lanced through Leia's mind, digging through her thoughts and skull until it felt as if her very brain was on fire. She screamed, reaching for her head, digging her fingers into her scalp until she bled. And still the pain raged.

"Hear me, 851," the Grand Inquisitor said, and it felt as if his words rang in her ears and in her mind. "You will fear me. And you will hate me."

And then the fire—and the bands of power—were gone, leaving Leia gasping and crying on her knees.

"Stand up, 851," the Grand Inquisitor commanded.

Still crying, Leia sat.

The Grand Inquisitor sighed, and flicked his fingers.

Again Leia fought, and again it was futile. She was lifted to her feet and set there. Her bare feet were cold against the wood of the floor. She tried to sit, going limp and letting her knees buckle—but the bands of power remained, strong and hard, and held her in place.

Another spear of pain struck, driving all thought and function from Leia's mind. She screamed, high and piercing, and she clutched her head. Tears of desperate pain squeezed from her clenched eyes to trickle down her cheeks and chin.

The bands disappeared, and again Leia landed on her knees. She still clutched her head, crying and whimpering.

"Let us try this one more time," the Grand Inquisitor said. "Get up, 851."

Leia set her chin, fighting through the tears and said, thin but stubborn, "No."

"Very well."

Claws dug into Leia's brain, racking and pulling her apart. She shrieked—and then, just as sudden as they had started, they were gone.

Leia opened her eyes to find herself standing in her bedroom on Alderaan. The sun was streaming through the windows above her bed, and the rich, white rug was soft beneath her feet. She was dressed in a nightgown, and her hair was braided and flung over one shoulder.

A knock came at her door. Then, "Lelila? Are you up?"

Leia turned, barely breathing. "Papá?" she called, and started for the door.

It opened to her father frowning in concern. "Is everything okay, Lelila?" he asked, looking down and seeing the tears gathering in her eyes.

Leia flung herself at him. "Papá," she sobbed, burying her face in his stomach.

"Shhh, Lelila," her father crooned. He knelt, and then gathered her to him in a strong embrace. "Do you want to tell me what's wrong?" he asked.

"I…" Leia began, then choked on her tears.

"Shhh," her father said again. He rubbed her back, the ran a hand over her hair, smoothing it back. "It's okay, Lelila," he promised in a murmur. "I'm here."

Leia cried even harder.

"I thought you were gone," she said after a long moment of tears. "I—I dreamed you died. And...and Aunt Mon and Master Carlist didn't want me. And they hurt me, and—"

Her father pulled away, his hands going to her shoulders. He smiled. "But Leia," he said, "I am dead."

Blood burst from his mouth, drenching his chin and dripping down to stain the collar of his white shirt. His eyes rolled back into his skull, and his chest gave a great crack. Ribs ripped through his skin beneath his shirt, poking it out in strange shapes. Scarlet spread across the soft, white cloth, garish and shocking.

Leia screamed.

"Get up, 851."

Leia opened her eyes to the practice court. The lights were blinding, and the Grand Inquisitor stood above her.

"Get up, 851," he repeated.

Leia shook and stayed down. She didn't think she could get up even if she wanted to.

The Grand Inquisitor bent down and wrapped his hand in Leia's hair, pulling her upright. "Do you want to see your father again, 851?" he asked.

Leia stood in a permacrete parking garage. The lights were low, filling the corners with shadows, and setting the speeders parked between the white lines gleaming. A door with a "STAIRS" sign above it sat in a corner just visible through the rows of speeders.

"Leia?"

Leia turned, her blood running cold, then hot, then cold again in fear and desperate desire. There, wending his way between the speeders, was her father, tall and strong and so familiar, so loved.

"Papá!" Leia called, unable to stop herself.

"Leia, I've been looking for you," her father said, hurrying forward.

He was almost to her, his arms opened wide to accept her in a hug, when a shadow appeared behind him. It rose out of the darkness, appearing with the suddenness of wind. There was a hum, and then the red blade of a lightsaber erupted into view—through her father's chest, throwing a red underglow across his face.

Leia screamed as her father landed on his knees, hands going to the hole burned through his chest. He looked up at her, blood trickling from one corner of his mouth. "Leia," he gasped.

Then the lightsaber reappeared, humming with hungry intent, and scythed down through her father's neck.

His head landed on the ground and rolled. Leia screamed again as it bounced off of her feet, his face landing upright. It was locked in a shocked and pained expression, mouth and eyes opened wide in fear.

Leia looked up at the shadow now standing above her father's headless corpse. The lightsaber's glow illuminated the being standing there. He was dressed all in black, but for the lights blinking from the box hanging on his chest, which were red and green. A mask covered his face, and a rippling cape trailed from his shoulders. For the first time, Leia heard the breathing—hard, harsh mechanical breathing.

She recognized him. Darth Vader.

Leia shrieked, this time in fury, and threw herself forward, fingers stretched out in claws ready to rip the box from the front of his chest.

She blinked—and found herself on the floor back in the practice court. She was kneeling and breathing hard, looking at the Grand Inquisitor's boots. She looked up at his face, expecting to see a frown.

He was smiling.

Leia felt anger bubble up in her. How dare he be smiling? How dare he find showing her and killing her father funny? How dare he find any of this enjoyable?

"Well, 851. Are you going to stand for me this time?"

Leia lunged at him, a shriek rising in her throat.

A fist of power smashed into her chest, sending her flying. She struck the wall far behind her with enough force to drive all the breath from her lungs, and her head snapped back to crack against the wood panelling. Stars popped in her field of vision.

She landed on the floor a second later. She stumbled and fell to her knees, her legs unable to support her, dazed. She couldn't breathe, couldn't think, couldn't move. Everything hurt: her chest, her head, her heart.

Leia gasped, finally dragging in a long, shivering breath. She looked up then, searching for the Grand Inquisitor, hoping he was nowhere near.

The Grand Inquisitor was clapping slowly, the smile still curling his lips. "Well done," he said, when he saw Leia's eyes on him. "You've done better than I expected."

Confused, Leia stared at him. What was that supposed to mean? How had she done well? She had attacked him.

His voice came back to her. You will fear me, he had said. And you will hate me.

The Grand Inquisitor strode toward her, smile still fixed in place. He hesitated when he reached her, then leaned down and patted her on the head. "That will be all for today, I think," he said. And with that he left the practice court, the door sliding shut and sealing on his heels.

Leia stayed on the floor by the wall, lost and confused and a little bit afraid. Did she fear him? she wondered. Did she hate him?

She thought she might.

When she closed her eyes all she could see was her father—her father standing before her, her father spitting blood, her father with his chest caved open.

She missed him. She missed him more than she could bear. She missed his strong hugs, his smile, his voice. She missed the way he would sweep her up in his arms, the way he would kiss her on the forehead when he tucked her in. She missed his stories, his songs, his laugh. She missed everything about him.

And the Grand Inquisitor had taken the sorrow and pain that she felt for her father and had twisted it on her—had forced her to watch him die not once, not twice, but three times now.

Leia dug her nails into her palms. I won't cry, she thought. But the tears spilled over her cheeks anyway, coursing down to drip from her chin.

"Hey now."

Leia looked up, startled. A young man with dark, shaggy hair was kneeling in front of her, looking concerned. He had a narrow, pointed face, sea-blue eyes, and a scar that cut through his right eyebrow.

"Who are you?" Leia asked warily.

"Imperial Domestic Corps Organic Unit 14566YMV, cleaner-class," the young man said. "But to myself, and to my friends, I go by Tobias."

"Tobias?" Leia said, trying out the name.

Tobias smiled. "Yeah. That's me. And who are you?"

"851," Leia said. "Or so they tell me."

"Were you someone before that?" Tobias asked.

"Leia," Leia said. "Leia Organa."

Tobias's eyebrows rose. "Organa?" he asked, surprised. "Isn't that the name of the Royal House of Alderaan?"

Leia nodded. "Yeah."

"Were you part of the House then?"

"I was the Princess," Leia said.

Tobias whistled. "You're hardly a nobody then," he said.

Leia shook her head. "I am now," she said. "No one wanted me. So now I'm nobody."

Tobias frowned. "But you were someone before."

"I was," Leia said with a shrug. "But I'm worthless to the Emperor like this, so I'm just a number now."

Tobias leaned forward and gripped her shoulder. "Even nobodies are somebodies," he said. "We're sentient. And that makes us someone. You were someone before you were no one, and that can't be changed. Remember that, Leia Organa."

Tobias stood. "I'd better go now," he said. "If I get caught talking to you, I might be culled."

Leia frowned. "Culled?" she asked.

"Killed," Tobias said. "Disposed of. All of us were told to not have any contact with you."

"Then why did you talk to me?" Leia asked.

"Because you were crying," Tobias said. "And because it looked like you needed a friend."

"Oh," Leia said. She looked at him, and fresh tears welled up in her eyes. "Thank you."

"For what?" Tobias asked.

"For being nice… No one here except Dr. Ammit has been nice since...since Papá..." Leia trailed off, choked by her tears.

"Sure," Tobias said and grinned. "See ya, Leia Organa." And, turning, he hurried across the practice court and out a small door Leia had never seen before. It closed and vanished into the wall, seamlessly blending into the wood paneling.

~oOo~

The Grand Inquisitor was waiting for Leia when Sixth Sister brought her in again the next morning. Leia promptly sat, crossing her arms over her chest and glaring. Her head hurt like it had the day before, and her mouth felt even drier. Both that and the fact that she had dreamed of Darth Vader killing her father all night made her grumpy.

"I won't do what you want," Leia said, preempting anything the Grand Inquisitor could say.

"We shall see about that," the Grand Inquisitor said with a smile.

He lifted a hand and motioned for Leia. "Come here," he said.

"I told you," Leia said stubbornly, "I won't do what you want."

The Grand Inquisitor jerked his hand, and Leia felt bands of power wrap themselves around her chest and hips. They dragged her forward, feet skidding against the balsa wood floor, until she was in arm's reach of the Grand Inquisitor, toes just brushing the ground.

He extended a hand and caressed her cheek. Leia jerked away, recoiling from his touch, eyes dark embers. "No," she snarled.

In response the Grand Inquisitor gripped her cheek and chin with his large hand, forcing her head back. Leia snapped at him, but his knuckle bone, braced against Leia's upper lip, kept his palm safe from her clicking teeth.

He smiled at her, and Leia thrashed against the bands of power holding her inert. She wanted to hurt him—wanted to hurt him so badly. Hate bubbled in her chest, black and sticky, and threatened to rise in her throat until it poured out from between her teeth to drown the Grand Inquisitor in its noxious flow.

The Grand Inquisitor's smile grew. "I don't even need to feel the hate in you," he said, and his eyes glinted yellow. "I can see it in your eyes."

Leia shrieked from behind his hand, and lashed out at him. Her nails dug deep trenches through the flesh of his wrist—and the Grand Inquisitor cursed, low and savage, letting Leia go. For a second she hung there, bound by his power, unable to reach him again, unable to flee.

The Grand Inquisitor looked at her, holding his bleeding wrist with his other hand. "You will also fear me," he promised, and flicked his fingers at her.

Leia screamed as she flew through the air. She smashed into the wall and collapsed to the floor, stunned. Darkness crawled at the edges of her vision, threatening to slither across it and steal her senses from her. She fought it—fought to stay conscious, even as her lungs spasmed, as her chest stabbed with pain that she had learned meant broken ribs, as her body ached from lack of air and abuse.

"Do you fear me, 851?" the Grand Inquisitor asked, pacing toward her in long, slow strides. He looked like a cat, Leia thought—a great, black cat that could swallow her whole.

"No," she said between gasps of breath. She rolled over onto her stomach, then levered herself to her feet, pushing through the pain of her broken ribs and her spasming lungs.

"Are you lying?" the Grand Inquisitor asked.

Leia turned and glared at him. "No," she said, stronger.

The Grand Inquisitor smiled. "You will fear me," he promised.

"No I won't," Leia said bravely.

Raising a hand, the Grand Inquisitor lifted Leia to her feet and bound her against the wall, iron cords of invisible power cinching tight around her chest, making it hard to breathe. Then he reached up and pressed his pointer and middle fingers against her left temple.

Leia opened her eyes to find herself standing in the grand Entrance Hall of the Palace of Aldera, with its hundred flags hanging from the gabled rafters and its hundred windows lining either wall. The purple carpet underfoot, which stretched from the great double Doors of Aldera to the arched door on the opposite side, was thick and rich, and the pale light was casting the dust in the air into glittering motes of gold.

Then Leia smelled smoke. She looked up, confused—and saw fire. It licked at the rafters and climbed down to sit, hot and red, in the flags, dripping embers and ash to the floor far below. Leia cried out, in fear and horror, and lifted a hand to cover her head when a burning fragment of cloth fell toward her. She stumbled forward, feet tripping over themselves in her hurry—only for the toe of her right foot to catch on something and send her sprawling.

Leia landed with a grunt, then scrambled back to her feet, turning to look at what had tripped her.

It was the body of one of the Palace Guards, twisted unnaturally, his belly split open from sternum to pelvis. The breastplate he wore—paper-thin, silver duraplast—was ripped apart, the edges jagged and sharp. His entrails spilled out in red and pink coils and blood pooled beneath him, staining the gold tunic he wore beneath the breastplate.

She had tripped over one of his legs, bent at a savage angle. The bone protruded from his shin and out his knee, adding more scarlet blood to the puddle beneath him.

Leia screamed and staggered backward—only to run into something else. She turned with a squeal to see another body, this one hewn in half. The legs—still attached to the hips—lay half a foot from the torso and head, the blood smeared between them a chain still holding the two halves together. The body's innards oozed from the top half of the body. Leia screamed again.

She whirled, looking for an escape—and saw that the Entrance Hall was filled with corpses. They lay in contorted shapes, in halves and pieces, in blood and urine and feces. Some of them had died instantly, while some of them had clearly died slower. Blood soaked the carpet and smeared the marble floor to either side scarlet.

Leia leaned over and threw up. She had seen death before—had seen the men and women of her father's personal guard slaughtered before her—but that was in darkness. She had not been able to see the bright red of the blood, the torn flesh, the burned bones.

Now she did.

The scene bled, the walls of the Entrance Hall and the carpet and the bodies blurring then running together, then faded to grey and black. Leia found herself standing in a dim room with duracrete walls, ceiling, and floor. There was no door, no window, no mirror—no entrance or exit of any kind that Leia could see.

"Hello?" Leia called, turning and scanning the walls. A ball of hot anxiety knotted in her stomach, climbing up into her throat and sitting like bile in her mouth. Was there no way out?

There came a low groan, like gears grinding and a dying man weeping. Leia turned again, now desperate as she looked for something, anything that was not duracrete.

Nothing.

And then the walls began to bleed.

The blood oozed from the duracrete in large, viscous droplets, running down to join the floor in long, thick rivulets. The smell overwhelmed Leia, heavy and metallic, and it coated her tongue and throat with the taste of it. She gagged, but only bitter saliva came up.

"Please," she cried, covering her nose and mouth with a hand. "Someone help! Anyone, please…"

A mouth grew in the wall facing Leia, ripping free of the duracrete and growing, growing, growing, blossoming like a flower opening its petals to the sky, lips wide and teeth crooked. It laughed at her, blood-stained spittle flying, which struck Leia in the face and hand. She was glad she hadn't moved it.

The mouth opened wider still and uttered a deep, bone-rattling word in a language Leia could not understand. It was a deep and hissing language, full of broken consonants and sharp-edged vowels. Leia screamed at the sound of it, covering her ears with both of her hands.

Another mouth grew out of the wall above and to the right of the first one. It laughed as well, and Leia screamed again at the sound. Then it spoke, its voicing overlapping the voice of the first mouth.

A third mouth grew, then a fourth. Then a fifth, sixth, seventh… Leia lost count of the number of them as they ripped free of the bloody duracrete with increasing rapidity, growing and smiling and laughing and speaking in that terrible language.

"Please," Leia sobbed, squeezing her eyes shut and pressing her hands tighter over her ears. She crouched down, hunching over her knees and into a tight ball, trying to shut out sight and sound and smell.

Then, as suddenly as Leia had appeared there, she was gone.

She opened tightly closed eyes to see the Grand Inquisitor standing in front of her. She hung in their air against the wall, and his fingers were still pressed to her temple. She realized when she tasted salt that she was crying.

"Do you fear me now, 851?" the Grand Inquisitor asked.

"Yes," Leia whispered. And it was true.

~oOo~

"Hey there," Tobias said. Leia looked up to see him staring down at her, his hands shoved into the pockets of the cotton pants he wore. He was barefoot, she noticed for the first time, and the shirt he wore had been patched.

"Hi," Leia said, and sniffed. She had finally stopped crying, but her nose was still running.

Tobias sat. "What's wrong?"

Leia stared at him long and hard, wondering what to tell him. She could tell him the truth—but there was something frightening in that prospect. Would he believe her? Would he question her? Would he laugh at her?

There was something sad in lying to him, though. Something bitter and ugly and fearful. She needed to tell someone what had happened—needed to get the images out of her head and into the open air. She could tell Shmi or Luke, but it would be hours until she could see them, and she needed to do it now.

"It's the Grand Inquisitor," Leia blurted at last.

Tobias frowned. "I've heard of him. He's the head of the Order of Inquisitors, isn't he?"

"I don't know," Leia said with a shrug. "But he's been in here instead of my trainers the last two days. He's been doing something…" Leia trailed off, looking for the words to describe what had happened. "It's like he's making me see things," Leia said at last.

"Like what?" Tobias asked.

"My Papá," Leia said softly. "My Papá being killed. And then today a bunch of dead people, and a duracrete room with walls that bled and mouths."

Tobias's frown deepened, creasing his eyebrows and curling his mouth down. "I see," he said.

"Do you believe me?" Leia asked.

"Oh, I believe you," Tobias said quickly. "I've heard terrible stories about the Force."

"Papá used to tell me stories about the Force," Leia said dubiously. "He never talked about making someone see dead people or blood or mouths."

"I haven't either," admitted Tobias. "But I've heard of people seeing things that weren't there. And of Inquisitors giving people nightmares. It doesn't seem like a stretch to me to think that an Inquisitor—especially one as powerful as the Grand Inquisitor—could give people visions."

Leia shivered. "Maybe."

Tobias reached forward and patted her on the knee. "It's gonna be okay, Leia Organa," he told her.

Leia looked up at him with dark eyes rimmed with red, and said softly, "I don't think so."

~oOo~

When Leia was brought to the practice court the next day, the Grand Inquisitor was again waiting for her. This time, however, Ninth Brother and Thirteenth Sister were with him. They watched Sixth Sister lead her in with cold and disinterested eyes, and as the door closed behind Sixth Sister's retreating form they turned back to each other and continued their conversation.

It was nearly half an hour before they so much as acknowledged Leia's presence again. At last, however, they turned and, with the Grand Inquisitor leading the way, crossed to stand over Leia, who had taken a seat as soon as the door had closed behind her.

"Today," the Grand Inquisitor said, "your training begins in earnest."

Leia frowned and crossed her arms. "I won't," she said.

The Grand Inquisitor lifted her with a flick of his wrist. He held her there, suspended in the air at eye-level, and said, "There is a power within you, 851. It looks different to each wielder—to some it is a bright ball, to others a small seed, to others still a shining web. Regardless of how it looks—and feels—to you, it is there. I want you to touch it for me."

Leia shook her head. "No," she said stoutly, trying to ignore the fear crawling up and down her spine.

"You will do so, or I will make you," the Grand Inquisitor informed her calmly. "You will not like it if I have to make you," he added.

"No," Leia said again, and she thrashed against the bands of power holding her in the air.

The Grand Inquisitor flicked his fingers and Leia fell. She landed on the floor in an ungainly sprawl, and she picked herself up gingerly, nursing a jammed wrist. The Grand Inquisitor, meanwhile, turned to Ninth Brother and Thirteenth Sister, and made a curt hand motion.

Thirteenth Sister crossed to a table Leia hadn't seen before. It sat in the shadow beneath the observer's balcony, and held a cup, a pitcher of water, and a silver flask. Thirteenth Sister first poured a small dribble of clear liquid from the flask into the cup, then added water. Turning, she bore the cup over to Leia, and handed it to her.

"Drink," she ordered.

Leia eyed the drink dubiously. "I don't want to," she said at last, looking up.

"You have to," Thirteenth Sister said. "Or we'll force it down your throat."

The threat sounded a great deal like the one Sixth Sister had made her on the first day. If Leia had believed the threat then, though, she feared it now.

Warily, she took a sip. The water tasted just as sweet and heavy as it had the first day, when Sixth Sister had given it to her. Leia wondered what was in the silver flask, even as she took another, deeper drink. She could feel the Grand Inquisitor's eyes on her, and slightly gentler than his, those of Ninth Brother and Thirteenth Sister.

She finished it and handed the cup back to Thirteenth Sister, who returned the cup to the table. Then the three Inquisitors gathered around Leia, still seated on the floor, and clasped hands.

It felt like being dragged down beneath ocean waves. One second everything was bright and warm and real—and the next everything was dark and cold and constructed of half-formed thoughts and dreams. The weight of those thoughts and dreams crashed down over Leia, dragging her deeper, and deeper still, until she was drowning beneath them.

Then—light.

It was faint at first, merely a glimmer lodged at the bottom of a deep well of shadows. Leia perched on the edge of the well and looked down, down, down, through the swirling darkness and fragments of thought and dream spinning like broken spider's silk. The light flickered, red and orange and yellow and, at the heart, bright, bright blue, and it seemed to beckon to her.

This is just a dream, Leia thought. Just like all the other times.

But somehow this felt different. For one thing, when she had been in the visions before she hadn't been able to tell that they were anything but reality. Besides, they were always showing her something horrifying—and this wasn't horrifying. It was, instead, comforting and familiar, like a golden, long-forgotten memory.

The light sang to her, bright and warm and infinite. Slowly and with great caution, Leia slipped over the edge of the well and began to swim down toward the light, long breaststrokes she had learned in the oceans of her father's childhood estate. The darkness buffeted her, clawing at her hair and dragging at her face—but still Leia swam, batting them aside and striving ever closer toward the light.

It grew brighter and warmer the closer she neared to it. The red turned to sunset over the mountains, the orange to dancing fire, the yellow to sifting sand, and the bright blue at its heart to the sky of Shmi's desert.

Leia hesitated on the edge of the light. It rested beneath her, a real and tangible thing—a flame flickering, its heart a burning ember.

"Touch it." The voice was echoing and painful, and made Leia clap her hands over her ears. It continued to ring, reverberating between her ribs and stomach and heart, until it filled her bones and mouth and thoughts.

"No," Leia told the voice, everything in her rebelling at the thought, in spite of the fire's siren song.

"Touch it."

"No," Leia said again.

Then, Come to me, oh Child of the Force. It was a different voice, one Leia had heard long before, in the ice temple of Vasieer. She shuddered to hear it now, like ice and needles and satin, like a thousand voices crying as one, so near and close.

"Touch it," came again.

"No."

Child, come…

And then the two voices blended, layering one over the top of each other. Each sang to her, the one like ash and stinging blade, the other infinitely greater.

"Touch it—"

Oh, Child of the Force...

Slowly—slowly—Leia reached out and touched the ember heart.

She was standing in the desert, the sand whispering over her feet and around her ankles. Before her stood a desolate field filled with machines humming toward the blue sky. They were tall and oblong, with a long spire topped by a wind-turned turbine. A fence made from tilted slats of plastisteel ringed the flat field, keeping out the dunes that rose to every side but south.

A figure appeared between the machines, trudging between them carrying a toolbox and leading a small parade of droids. Leia smiled, recognizing the sandy hair and willowy frame, even beneath the hat pulled low over his brow: Luke.

Leia started forward, quickly gaining speed until she was running down the row toward him, calling his name. He either didn't hear her over the hum of the machines, or ignored her; either way he did not turn, even when she skidded to a halt in front of him.

"Luke," Leia panted, and reached a hand out for him.

Her hand passed through his shoulder and out the other side.

Luke froze, eyes going wide. "Leia?" he asked, and looked wildly around.

Leia smiled. "Yes," she said, and tried to touch him again. Again her hand passed through him, but Luke shivered and looked around again. "I'm here," Leia tried to say—but a voice from behind her cut her off before she could try again to make herself heard.

"Come on, Luke," said the gruff voice. "I need that wrench."

Luke hurried forward, passing through Leia and on down the row. Leia turned, stumbling out of the way of the droids on instinct, and stared at Luke's retreating back.

Why hadn't she been able to touch him? Why hadn't he been able to see or feel her? Where even was she?

There was a tugging in her navel. Leia fought it, wanting to stay and find answers to her questions. No,she tried to say, and pushed the sensation away.

Leia hurried after Luke, following in the wake of the droids. He had sensed her. He had—Leia was certain of it. Hadn't he reacted when her hand passed through him? She would find a way to talk to him.

The tugging at her navel came again, stronger. Leia pushed at it and kept on going.

"Touch it…"

Leia opened her eyes to find her hands buried deep within the ember. Pure, radiant light was pouring up her arms and into her chest, setting her aflame. It burned, deep in her body and deep in her bones, until all she could feel was the blue-yellow-orange-red light.

Only now she could see that it wasn't just four colors—it was a thousand colors, a thousand thousand colors. It was all the colors she could comprehend, and more colors that she couldn't, all woven together into a tapestry of shimmering, shining light. It was a hundred trillion voices all singing at once, each in their own of a billion tongues, each voice unique yet blended. It was everything, and nothing, and everything again. It was infinite.

Leia gasped, and came back to herself. She was sitting at the center of the circle formed by the Inquisitors, their linked hands clasped over her head. They were silent, their eyes closed and their lips thinned with concentration.

The fire had dimmed in her bones, and now it felt different—harder, colder, realer, as if it lay just beneath a pane of glass. She reached for it, and her fingers skimmed over the glass, smooth and cool, so that she could not touch it.

The Grand Inquisitor opened his eyes. "Do you fear me, 851?" he asked. "Do you hate me?"

And suddenly Leia was again in the speeder hangar, Darth Vader standing over her father's headless corpse. And she was again in the Entrance Hall filled with the dead and dying. And she was in the room whose walls bled and mouths screamed words she could not bear.

"Do you fear me? Do you hate me?"

Yes, Leia thought, and the sticky fear in her chest mixed with the black hate to make a noxious, intoxicating tar that coated her heart and rose like bile in her throat.

"Hate me," the Grand Inquisitor said. "Fear me."

"I do," Leia growled from between gritted teeth. She looked up at him, eyes hard and burning.

The Grand Inquisitor smiled. "Good," he said. "Feel that hate, that fear. Let it fill you. Let it control you."

"No. I won't."

"I will make you watch your father die a thousand times," the Grand Inquisitor told her calmly. "Perhaps then you will allow your hatred to be unleashed."

Leia fought back the surge of fury and loathing. It was enough to choke her—but she tamped it down, burying it deep within her chest where it smoldered in her lungs, turning each breath sour.

She saw her father—saw him standing and smiling, his arms open wide. She saw the knife, saw the hand wielding it, saw the grey skin and too-large bones, the red markings on the face. She saw the knife swing down, saw the blood fountain into the air as her father's throat was carved into a weeping smile.

She saw her father—saw him kneeling to pray at the Mother's altar, hands clasped before him and head bowed. She saw the monk come up behind him, dagger ill-hidden in his sleeve, saw it rise and fall. She saw her father fall, blood pooling out from the wound in his back, the bone of his spine visible beneath torn skin and shredded cloth.

She saw her father—saw him laughing beside her mother, who turned to smile at her. "Come here, Lelila," her mother said, and Leia took one glad step forward. She saw the oil at their feet, saw the match as it was lit, saw it arc through the air. She saw them burn, screaming and wailing in agony and fear, thrashing as they died.

Leia screamed, the fury and loathing climbing from her lungs and into her mouth, dripping over her chin and down to her chest. She wanted to drown the Grand Inquisitor in it—the Grand Inquisitor, Ninth Brother, Thirteenth Sister, everyone who had a hand in this.

"Yes," the Grand Inquisitor said, low and purring, eyes half-shut. "Let your anger and your hate rise."

Leia swallowed, choking back her hatred, forcing it back down into her lungs. No, she thought, desperate. He can't win. I won't let him.

She saw her father dead in the Palace of Aldera's throne room, stomach spilled onto the floor. She saw her father dead in waves tinged pink with his blood. She saw her father dead on the floor of his bedroom, body broken. She saw her father dead in a street, half of his face bashed in.

The hatred surged. She swallowed it back.

She saw her father dead once, twice, five, twelve times.

She screamed, fingers balled into fists, and the hatred roared from her, spilling over her lips and crashing to the floor.

"He's dead," Ninth Brother said, and Thirteenth Sister laughed, high and loud. "Your father is dead, and he is never coming back."

"Your mother too," Thirteenth Sister added. "And no one else wanted you."

Leia screamed again, tasting fury.

"You're all alone and at our tender mercies," Ninth Brother said. "No one is coming for you. No one will rescue you."

"You're ours," Thirteenth Sister added.

"No!" Leia screamed, and surged to her feet.

"You will be a weapon for the Emperor," Ninth Brother said in his steady, smooth voice.

"You will serve him in body, mind, and soul," Thirteenth Sister said. "There is no other way for this to end."

"No," Leia shrieked.

"You cannot win, 851," Ninth Brother said.

"You will not win," Thirteenth Sister said.

"No!" Leia screamed again, whirling on each of them in turn, glaring. "No, I will! I will win. He won't!"

"No, 851," Ninth Brother said. "You're doomed. Doomed to—"

Leia lifted a clenched hand up, ready to punch—only for Ninth Brother to fly across the room and strike the wall. He fell to the ground, and did not rise.

Leia stood, panting, her raised fist falling to rest at her side. Beneath her feet, the balsa wood was warped and jagged, as if it had been torn up with an invisible plow.

The Grand Inquisitor clapped slowly. "Well done, 851," he said. "Well done indeed."

"No," Leia said, staring at Ninth Brother still lying senseless. "No, I...I didn't mean to—"

"But you did," the Grand Inquisitor said. "And you will again."

Leia shook her head. "No," she said again, close to tears. "No, I… No."

"Take her back to her room," the Grand Inquisitor told Thirteenth Sister. "And make certain she is brought a full meal."

Thirteenth Sister bowed. "As you wish, Grand Inquisitor," she said. Then, turning to Leia, she said, "Come along, 851."

Leia followed numbly. She could not get the sight of Ninth Brother flying through the air and collapsing boneless to the floor out of her mind.

I did that, she thought. That was me.

She remembered Shmi's warning that she would become a force of Darkness that the galaxy had rarely seen. Was this the first step toward becoming that Darkness? Had she failed utterly? Had she consigned the galaxy to terror?

Not again, Leia decided. I won't let it happen again.

But, as Thirteenth Sister left her in her room and went in search of the kitchen and a meal, Leia found that she feared it might happen again anyway.

I couldn't stop it, she thought. I didn't want for it to happen, but it did. What's to say it won't happen again?

Leia curled into her bed and drew the blankets over her head. I'm sorry, Shmi, she thought, squeezing her eyes shut tight against the memory of watching her father die, against the memory of seeing Ninth Brother fly through the air. I'm sorry.

Thirteenth Sister returned with a tray of food. "Aren't you going to eat?" she asked when Leia made no move to rise.

Leia ignored her, and after a long moment she heard Thirteenth Sister put the tray down on top of the dresser, then leave. Still Leia did not move.

Please, she thought, begged, pleaded harder than she ever had before. Shmi, I need you.

"I'm here, Leia," Shmi said, rising from where she had been sitting on the sand. The twin suns beat down from overhead, and Leia could see the shimmers of heat rising above the dunes.

"I failed," Leia said, looking up at Shmi. "I couldn't...I mean I did—"

"Shhh," Shmi murmured, and gathered Leia to her. "This isn't the end."

"It's not?" Leia asked.

Shmi drew back and knelt so that she was at eye-level with Leia. "No," she said firmly. "Because you kept fighting. Even now, you're still fighting."

"But I failed," Leia said, miserable. "I hurt Ninth Brother. I—"

"And what are you going to do now?" Shmi asked. "Are you going to give in and do what is asked of you?"

Leia shook her head. "No," she said. "I...I'm going to fight. Even harder. Because I can't let this happen again."

Shmi nodded and, reaching up, cupped Leia's face with her hands. "There you are, then," she said. "So long as you keep fighting—so long as you never stop fighting with every fiber of your being—you will be okay. Give up, though…" She trailed off, and Leia nodded.

Leia hesitated, then in a very small voice asked, "What if I do mess up again?"

"Then you learn from that, and you keep fighting. Just like this time."

"Okay," Leia said.

Shmi gathered Leia to her one last time, and pressed a kiss to her head. "Keep fighting, oh Child of the Force," she murmured.

A chill raced through Leia. "What did you say?" she asked, pulling away and looking up at Shmi.

But Shmi, and the desert, were already fading.


end notes: Again, a review may help me overcome my writer's block - so please, if you're so inclined, leave a review before you go! Thanks, and I hope you enjoyed!