For an endless instant, nobody moved.
Hunter stared at Vythia, a dozen questions on the tip of his tongue – and then he turned to Quinlan, waiting for him to deny that she could make herself into a Force-sensitive.
But the Jedi didn't deny it. Instead, he simply stared at Vythia for a long, long moment – then burst into a frenzy of movement, flinging himself forward to grab at the scroll.
Vythia caught his hand before he could do more than crumple one corner of the ancient parchment, but he didn't let go of it. Vythia had to use both hands to pry his fingers open and remove the scroll from his grasp.
When she moved the mask and the dagger to the opposite end of the altar, well out of his reach, Quinlan slumped against the altar's edge, his face strangely pale. "Vythia, don't!" he begged.
"I will not kill you," she promised, and began to read aloud from the first scroll.
Hunter couldn't identify a word she said, and yet as she continued to read, he found that he understood the general intent behind the lyrical phrases. They were calling on something, something more powerful than any sentient being he had ever heard about.
Quinlan made another desperate attempt to grab at the scroll, but Vythia was standing too far away.
"We've gotta stop her!" Wrecker said. "Hunter, what do we do?"
Hunter could only look at him, because he didn't have an answer.
Crosshair drew his knife and sent an overhand strike at the shield. When the blade skidded soundlessly along the red-gleaming surface, he jerked back and snarled, "Tech?"
"I do not know what the words mean." Tech's usual monotone was underlaid by a current of fear.
"Can't you tell us anything?" Hunter demanded.
"Only that the image is that of a phoenix. And that Vythia is speaking Balc . . . a language far more ancient than the common Sith tongue. She told me herself that she cannot understand most of it."
Hunter tensed, half-turning to him. "Are you telling me she might not know exactly what she is saying?"
Tech nodded.
As Vythia finished reading, the runes around the perimeter of the altar flashed with a quiet hissss. The black light they emitted made Hunter feel sick as it glinted and reflected off the inside of the equally uneven Force-shield.
Crosshair took a step back, half-lifting a hand to his eyes, and Wrecker leaned dizzily forward against the shield. Tech remained motionless, lips pressed together as he stared at Vythia.
"Quinlan!" Hunter yelled, ripping his helmet off and dropping it to one side. "Quinlan, how do we stop her?"
There has to be a way!
Quinlan didn't answer. Hunter continued to stare at him, waiting for a response, then jumped as Vythia stepped directly in front of him, facing him through the shield.
"Hunter," she said firmly. "You and your team can do nothing to stop me. This will be over in a few minutes – if you stop distracting me. I will not proceed until you are silent, though. The consequences of an incorrectly-executed ritual are dire."
He glared back at her despite the sense of helplessness that enveloped him. "Then we're going to keep distracting you."
Vythia shook her head, eyes glinting with impatience, and lifted a hand to touch the shield. "Do not be a fool. Now that I have begun the ritual, the shield will not fade until it has been completed. Eventually, you four will tire, or your voices will, and I will proceed all the same."
"Proceed with what?" Hunter growled, slamming a fist against the shield in impotent rage. "What is it you think you are doing?"
"I already told you." She turned to look at Quinlan – who was twisting so hard against the cuff that Hunter thought he was going to dislocate his shoulder – then back at Hunter. "It does not matter to me, how long this takes. However, it will matter to him."
"She's right," Wrecker mumbled soberly.
Hunter gritted his teeth and ignored him, still focused on Vythia. "What good will this ritual do you? You don't know how to use the Force –"
"I understand how to," she replied. "I have studied as hard as any Sith – or Jedi."
Hunter barely heard her. "But what good will it do you? As soon as the shield goes down –"
"You will all come for me," she finished, and leaned closer. "And by then, Hunter, I will have the power and abilities of a Sith – one of the most powerful of all the Sith. I will have the powers of Darth Zenaya, the woman who designed this entire ritual. I do not want to kill you, but trust me when I say that should you choose to attack and force my hand, you in particular risk immediate death."
His confusion must have shown, because she shook her head. "Zenaya had the ability to produce some of the most intense Sith-lightning ever recorded. Now." Vythia turned, her sharp black-eyed gaze encompassing all four of the commandos while Quinlan continued to struggle in the background. "Will you be silent, or would you rather make him stay here longer?"
Hunter snarled, but he had no idea how to stop her. He glanced past her shoulder at Quinlan, who could only stare back in silent terror, and snapped, "Quinlan! Use the Force to stop her!"
"I can't," Quinlan's voice was hoarse. "I can't reach it!"
"What about the dark?" Crosshair demanded harshly. "You used it –"
"I can't reach it!" Quinlan yelled. "The shield – it cut me off, I can't –!"
Utterly unmoved, Vythia raised an inquiring eyebrow at Hunter.
With an effort, Hunter stepped back from the shield, well aware of his teammates watching him as he did so. "Stand down," he growled.
Despite the grim silence that answered him, he knew they were obeying.
Vythia inclined her head slightly, as though in thanks, and went back to stand at the altar across from Quinlan.
As she reached for his left hand, he jerked upright again and twisted away. "No!" he shouted. "Vythia, don't! You don't know what you're doing!"
"I assure you I do." She caught his wrist with a quick movement, slid his sleeve up past his elbow, and shoved his arm against the altar's surface.
Quinlan nearly hit his head against the edge of the stone as he fought to escape whatever visions assaulted him, and Hunter gritted his teeth.
"Hey! Quinlan!" yelled Wrecker. "Stop it, you're gonna kill yourself! You're not – not there, whatever you're seeing!"
Surprisingly, Vythia didn't tell him to be quiet. She tossed aside Lothal's mask, which clinked to the stones, useless to her now. Then, after prying the red jewel free of the gold that had held it, she set it into the image, placing it as the eye of the phoenix.
A deep crimson light glowed in its depths and leeched out, dripping onto the altar like blood. Quinlan went silent and still, gazing expressionlessly at the jewel as though trying to see through it.
Vythia placed the second scroll on top of the jewel, and the parchment burst into golden fire, falling away into a ring around the eye as it burned. Shadowy words sounded among the crackle of the flames, which did not die away – they burned brighter as the voice continued, and even after it had stopped.
A half-heard rasping of stone on stone made Hunter look sharply to his left. One of the four statues had just bowed to the earth, hands over its face.
When he glanced over his shoulder, he saw that Tech and Crosshair and Wrecker were each gazing at a different statue, all of which were in the same position – hands clasped over their faces, foreheads touching the floor as they bowed towards the altar in fear or awe – or both.
Almost unwillingly, Hunter looked at his teammates, hoping that they had some idea as to how to stop Vythia. Crosshair only glanced at him in return, then went back to staring through the shield, while Wrecker and Tech hesitated an instant before following his example. None of them knew how to stop her . . . Maybe there was no way to stop her.
Hunter took a quick breath and looked at the altar. The flames continued to burn around the phoenix's eye, and Quinlan was still staring at the red jewel.
As Vythia reached towards him, he slowly transferred his gaze to her. "Vythia?" he whispered with absolute certainty. "You don't know what you're doing."
A glimmer of hesitation passed over her face and was gone.
Quinlan straightened, as though reading her refusal in her face. "Vythia!"
Grabbing his left wrist with her right hand, she yanked his arm out straight and pinned it, somehow managing to keep it immobile even though he jerked and fought, yelling at the top of his lungs as she reached for the knife. "NO! Vythia, DON'T – you don't know what – NO!"
He nearly managed to wrench free.
With two quick movements, Vythia snatched up the ceremonial blade in her left hand and sliced his arm open from the inside of the elbow to just above the wrist.
Quinlan screamed, flinging his head back and writhing so viciously that Vythia could barely keep his arm pinned.
Hunter jerked a little in surprise at the violence of his reaction, but Tech didn't seem astonished. He touched the shield and said, "The rune. Hâsk."
The Jedi let out another hoarse scream and doubled over. With a faintly remorseful grimace, Vythia dipped her knife in the blood that continued to spill from his arm. Still not releasing him, she started to trace the outline of the phoenix.
As she continued to draw, Quinlan got fully to his knees – then, with a sudden burst of speed, he reached up with his free hand and grabbed at her knife-hand, trying to ruin the phoenix. Her reflexes were faster than his, though. She pulled back, watching him warily, then touched the length of the dagger to his injury again. He leaned his forehead against the altar's edge, panting in agony, and she continued to draw.
Nobody outside the shield was moving now. Hunter could only watch, unable to look away as the phoenix began to take shape. Before, it had simply been a crude image; but as Vythia continued to trace the bloody lines, they began to glow. Only the outspread wings needed completing . . .
"Vythia . . . Stop!" Quinlan gasped.
A final stroke of her knife connected the curve of the phoenix's neck with the base of the wing. Instantly, fire from the still-crackling parchment spilled out and shot along the outline of the image until it – but not the rest of the blood on the altar – was replaced by liquid flame, which burned close to the surface of the altar.
Vythia released Quinlan's wrist and stepped back, staring into the fire as the Jedi tried to throw himself away from the altar.
Then Vythia placed the point of the dagger against her right palm. She hesitated, took a quick breath as though bracing herself, and dragged the point of the knife down.
Instantly, she bent with a cry, clutching her hand to her stomach. Only a few seconds later, though, she managed to straighten, gritting her teeth as she staggered forward to place her cut hand against the altar.
The flames went black and seemed to freeze. For a long instant, only the red eye glowed hellishly in its place on the altar.
Quinlan groaned and dragged himself to his knees, reaching towards the crystal, which was just outside of his reach.
Vythia struck his hand aside and leaned forward, stabbing down. As soon as the blade had sunk soundlessly into the glowing eye, she withdrew it and stepped away.
The black flames burned gold in the center and leaped up, twisting until a full-bodied phoenix of flames hovered above the altar, far bigger than the image that had been drawn. Its fiery wings extended high above Vythia's and Quinlan's heads, and Hunter leaned harder against the shield, not understanding what it was he was seeing.
The phoenix stayed where it was, not moving. Only the black and gold flames traveled continually up and out, and it didn't have any eyes.
Vythia herself seemed taken aback by the results of the ritual; she hadn't moved, either, except to gaze uncertainly between the phoenix and the discarded scroll from which she had read earlier. Then she reached slowly for the red jewel, which now lay in an outline of soot.
"No!" Quinlan, who had also been looking up, threw himself forward as hard as he could in a last desperate attempt to snatch the jewel. "NO!"
But Vythia picked it up and placed it on the cut on her hand. To Hunter's shock, the jewel dissolved into ash and sank into the wound. He clearly saw a streak of black travel up beneath the dark purple of her skin.
Instantly, Vythia's eyes widened in surprise, and she drew in a slow, visible breath.
It worked? Hunter thought in shock.
"No . . ." Quinlan sounded horrified. "Vythia . . ."
She glanced at him, then extended a hand in his direction. The cuff around his arm broke free, and he collapsed beside the altar.
"It – worked," Wrecker whispered blankly.
Tech hissed softly. "Yes. . . But the phoenix is not gone."
"The shield isn't gone," Crosshair added. "What –"
The phoenix alighted in front of the altar and changed, the black-tinged flames rushing up its outspread wings to create the form of something else – a person? The gold was slowly eaten by the black, and the wings were replaced by arms. Within an instant, the shadowy, half-formed figure of a tall Togrutan woman was standing before them. A flicker of deep red shone in the apparition's eyes, which it turned towards Vythia.
Vythia stepped back with a sudden intake of breath, one hand rising to clutch at her chest.
"Vythia –!" Quinlan shouted weakly. "Give me the knife!"
The Nautolan woman seemed unable to hear him. She was frozen in place, panic gleaming in her eyes as the shadow advanced on her.
Quinlan staggered to his feet, and all of a sudden Hunter and all his teammates were shouting at Vythia.
"Vythia! Give Quinlan the knife!" Hunter yelled, a sense of unbearable dread filling him even though he didn't know what was going on. "VYTHIA!"
With a cry, Vythia lunged sideways, snatched the knife up from the ground and twisted to face Quinlan, holding it out.
He clutched at the hilt and turned clumsily to strike as the shadow passed him. The knife sank into its chest, and the shadow leaned forward gracefully and reached around him with both arms, nearly enveloping him for a moment.
Hunter didn't see what happened. One instant, Quinlan was standing; the next, he was on his side on the floor, and Vythia was snatching the knife out of the shadow –
And then a coil of black shadow swirled up Vythia and was gone. The knife clinked to the stone, and Vythia stumbled, taking in short, panicked breaths. Her black eyes were wide with horror as she lifted one hand to her head and the other to her heart.
"H – Hunter!" she gasped. "L – leave!"
Quinlan pushed himself onto his knees, made it one step towards Hunter, and collapsed against the shield.
Vythia fell to her knees and gripped at the altar, sobbing as though in pain as she reached for the fallen knife again. Moving with terrifying slowness, she gripped the weapon in both hands and turned the point towards her chest.
Hunter winced in horrified anticipation and glanced away.
Then, with a half-formed scream, Vythia crumpled, half-lying against the altar. From the depth of the chasm around them, the deep, iron tones of the bell sounded once more and fell silent.
Quinlan, who was lying against the shield beside Hunter, didn't move. Neither did Vythia. The statues shifted again, returning to their silently watching position.
The shield stayed in place, impenetrable as ever.
After several long seconds, Wrecker let out a heavy, frightened breath and turned to look at Hunter. Crosshair lifted his hands slowly away from the shield, then slammed them back against it and leaned forward. Tech breathed in shakily and didn't say anything.
Hunter looked mechanically at all of them, then turned back, watching Vythia and the altar once more. He felt like one of the statues – forced to be nothing but a silent observer . . .
Vythia's fingers closed tightly around the altar's edge. She got to her feet with strange, clumsy slowness – almost as though she couldn't remember how to move. Twice, she nearly fell.
Quinlan stirred, and by the time Hunter looked up again, the Nautolan woman stood facing him. The faintly amused or intrigued expressions that he was used to seeing on Vythia's face were completely gone. Even the panic was gone. Instead, a woman with the same features gazed at Hunter, then smiled faintly and looked at each of his squad mates in turn.
Then her glance drifted deliberately down to Quinlan, and she stepped forward.
Vythia had carried herself confidently, but this woman carried herself in a way that suggested she knew no one could or would challenge her. Vythia's physical appearance was the same, but she was gone.
Now, the Nautolan woman stood beside Quinlan, hands clasped elegantly over her forearms, which rested against her waist, and gazed down at the Jedi through half-lidded eyes.
Hunter knew he had seen that posture before –
"Zenaya," Quinlan said hoarsely, bracing himself against the shield with one hand as he tried to stand.
"Quinlan Vos." Her voice sounded the same, but she spoke differently. "At last."
With a silent glance at the altar, she lifted a hand.
The shield vanished suddenly. Quinlan fell against Hunter and Tech, Crosshair stumbled forward, and Wrecker straightened abruptly.
Hunter shoved Quinlan at Tech and leaped forward, knife raised.
Vythia – Zenaya – caught him by one wrist. The next instant, Hunter was on his knees, while she twisted his weapon gently from his grasp and tossed it toward the altar.
"Do not be tiresome," she said. "You are worthy opponents . . . Or could be."
Wrecker took a sudden step toward her.
She shot him a hooded glance, causing him to freeze in place. "Yes, even you, perhaps. Vythia believes you are clever. . ."
Wrecker looked back at her. "What'd you do to her?"
The Sith woman smiled. "Vythia was wrong, then. . . She was wrong about many things."
Wrecker wavered and dropped to his knees.
Hunter tried to speak, and couldn't. He couldn't even twist his hand free – she wasn't that strong, something else was holding him in place.
A cruel smile flickered across her face, and he realized she was studying Crosshair now. "You blinded my master," she said musingly. "Not even I dared to do that, not even after I ripped his soul from his body for the last time. It wasn't bravery, was it? It was uncontrollable terror. That did nothing, did it?"
Crosshair was staring back at her, eyes burning with fury at how she held him unable to answer.
"Small recompense," she murmured. "He is no worse off, and as for you – his gaze will be burned in your mind forever."
She turned dismissively away from him, and Crosshair fell to his knees.
Tech's hand inched toward his pistol, and Hunter turned his head as much as he could, trying to catch Quinlan's eyes. He couldn't.
"And you . . ." Zenaya studied Tech. "You knew a good deal, and you connected nothing. I am intrigued by your lack of understanding. Even now, you have not learned."
Again, the smile. Tech's hand was wrenched away from his pistol, and he fell against Wrecker.
Hunter didn't feel scared, despite the utter control that Zenaya held over himself and his team. At first, he wondered why; but then, as he looked up at her, he suddenly realized that was because Zenaya wouldn't let him feel scared. He didn't know how he understood that, only that she was somehow testing herself . . .
Because she's not in her own body, he thought. She doesn't know her own limits yet.
Cool fingers touched his cheek and withdrew. "You are correct," Zenaya said, straightening and stepping away. "For once. You should have left when I gave you the chance."
She raised a hand, and Hunter was thrown through the air to slam against the base of one of the pillars. He struggled, all his emotions returning at once, but couldn't even pull his head away from the stone.
One after the other, Zenaya flung his teammates back, each against a separate pillar. Crosshair and Tech on either side of Hunter, then Wrecker next to Tech. No matter how desperately they struggled, they couldn't gain even a centimeter against the crushing force that pinned them there. It was worse than the powerful wind that had kept them from reaching the altar. . .
A second realization struck Hunter, and he stopped fighting in shock, heart pounding in the pit of his stomach.
Zenaya had been the storm.
Last time, Quinlan had used the kyber crystal – the light side – to throw back the storm long enough that they could reach the Marauder.
Now, Quinlan was curled on his side on the floor, near the last pillar, and he had no crystal. The leviathan had drained the yellow crystal. He'd shattered his green one, trying to free Tech. Hunter had the last lightsaber, hanging on his belt, with no way to get it to him.
Zenaya stood beside Quinlan, gazing thoughtfully down at him. "You would have made an excellent Sith," she said. "Despite being a Jedi, you did manage to resist me. It is truly a pity that you refused to use the dark."
Quinlan's alarmed gaze wrenched up to hers. She stepped forward, grinding her heel into his left forearm, and he twisted weakly.
Zenaya released him, then leaned down and lifted him bodily to his feet. Pushing him back against the pillar with one hand, she said, "Perhaps you will learn, given time."
She turned to glance once more at all of them, then turned and left the Core. Her steady footsteps sounded across the narrow bridge and up the stairway. . . And still no one could move.
Then Hunter fell forward, suddenly released from the pillar, and slammed to his hands and knees with a gasp. Around him, his squad mates were also released, one after the other.
They were still getting to their feet when Quinlan slumped to the floor with a faint cry. Wrecker recovered the fastest and ran over, then tugged the Jedi into a half-sitting position. "Hey, Quinlan . . .?"
No answer. His right hand opened and closed feebly against his blood-soaked sleeve. His half-closed eyes were jerking from one point to another, and his skin was pale.
"Quinlan?" Wrecker shook him slightly. "Hey, you okay?"
"He is not." Tech's voice was clipped and expressionless. "Let me see his arm."
Moving on autopilot, Hunter knelt next to the Jedi and touched his cheek, which was too cool despite the sweat on his forehead. "Shock?"
"Mild hypovolemic shock. Move aside."
"Just wrap his arm," Hunter ordered, leaning down to recover his knife. "We'll clean it on the ship. We have to get out now."
Tech pulled out his medkit, and Crosshair snatched it from him. "I'll do this. You get on your datapad and find that karking Sith woman."
Tech obeyed silently. Crosshair wound gauze tightly around Quinlan's forearm and tied it off, then helped Wrecker stand him up.
"She is in the center stairwell," Tech said.
"It's working?" Hunter asked in surprise. "Never mind. Which level?"
"The seventh. And the leviathan is moving. We need to hurry."
Hunter twisted to face Wrecker. "Can you carry him without falling?"
"Yeah." Wrecker hoisted the half-conscious Jedi into his arms. "Just – someone stay in front of me."
"I'll go first. Crosshair, Tech. You're behind Wrecker." Hunter moved out onto the narrow bridge and broke into a quick walk. He still wasn't thinking about what had just happened. He had to focus on getting everyone to the Marauder and off-planet.
Vythia's – Zenaya's – words rang in his mind. "You are correct . . . for once. You should have left when I gave you the chance."
Hunter blinked, shaking his head to clear it of her voice, and thought, We ARE leaving.
I almost didn't name Vythia's ship Phoenix - I thought it would give away the plot. . . ;)
