:: Chapter Thirty Six ::

This wasn't happening, it couldn't be. Theron's life had not been in danger, he wasn't the one who'd frequented her gruesome and deadly nightmares so why was he on the floor now in a puddle of his own blood?

'The price… this is the price, what I've done by coming here… No!' The thought taunted Eliza and ignited.

Raw fury burst from every bone and nerve in her body and before anyone realized what had just happened, Arcann's body was flung across the hallway. His eyes widened in sudden shock—the Sith had her powers while he was without—and he threw his arms up just in time to protect his face and mask from a full-on collision with one of the structural beams supporting the underground tunnels.

'Thump… thump…' A waning signal probed Eliza's mind, weak but calling out and she spun on her heel to look at Theron.

Completely motionless, there wasn't even the slightest rise and fall of his back to indicate he was breathing still but she heard the call of his heart. Beating, fighting, wanting to shout about his survival but losing its strength as scarlet fluids seeped from his body.

It wasn't quite the sound of impending victory but enough to bring her hope and embolden the decisions she'd have to make now while there was no time to waste.

Eliza held Arcann trapped and stoically relayed her orders, "He's alive but barely. Get him back into the ship, do what you can, now."

"Not without—" Doc offered up protest but found himself denied instantaneously.

"Go! Take him, take them both and get to the ship. Save them, fly home, I'll find my own way. I'm sure this prick didn't walk his way here."

A lightsaber whirled her way and Eliza only barely managed to deflect it in time, growling in anger as the steel handle found its way back to Arcann's hand.

"Now!" she urged a second time but didn't wait for her friends to listen.

Using the unexpected strength she possessed, she gathered the Force within her and extended an arm in their direction. Forcing all of them—even the cargo crates—into the elevator with a single, powerful push before shutting the doors and sending them up to the surface.

"How noble of you," spat Arcann when he was released. "But, alone at last with nowhere to hide."

"As if I'd need to," Eliza threatened in retaliation and played her upper hand, once more slamming him into one of the support beams.

"How did you know we were here?" she demanded.

She'd stopped believing in coincidences long ago and even if the guards had somehow managed to warn him, there'd be no way for him to arrive on Nathema this fast.

"Instinct."

Tendrils of the Force closed around his thick neck and Eliza squeezed. "Try again."

"How do you have your connection with the Force?" he countered instead with a hint of curiosity more so than fear or concern.

A low growl rumbled up her throat. "Fine, don't answer, we'll just get straight to the part where I kill you."

"I didn't come here to kill you. I came to bring you to Zakuul."

For a second time, she released her hold on him and Arcann landed on both feet while Eliza scoffed. "Why? To turn me into a poisonous popsicle like you did with Kira? Until I die?"

"That wasn't—"

"You killed her! You kept my husband locked up in here for years! Had him tortured, nearly killed him and he still might! You just tried to kill my partner and he still might! Bombed high populated planets for what?! The Empire, Republic? No, you're not taking me anywhere!"

Like hungering predators her blades sprung to life, ready to claim their prey. "Defend yourself or don't, makes no difference to me but only one of us is leaving this planet alive and it won't be you!"

Tightly screwed in bolts holding the support beams together sprung from their sockets and whizzed through the air, raining down on Arcann like bullets and pounding his body before they dropped lifelessly at his feet. The structural beams fell apart, one by one clattering to the ground with a deafening noise and lacking foundation now, the tunnel they stood in collapsed, cutting off their access to the elevators and their only way out.

Arcann coughed furiously at the dust up and blinked a few times. "You're insane!" he spat.

"No, that crown still sits on your sister's corpse."

"What have you done?!" He ignored her scathing remark. "Now we're both stuck in here!"

"Yeah, I guess we are," Eliza responded in calm and feigned a shrug. "Works for me, though.

"If by some miracle you manage to kill me, you'll still be stuck down here and sooner or later you'd die from starvation or a lack of oxygen. Without the Force, you're not strong enough to clear the debris. I, however, am so once I kill you, I can clear the way for myself and get the hell out of this place."

"And if we both run out of air long before the fight ends? You'll die too!"

"Yeah, suppose I would but if that means I've taken you down with me, so be it."

"You'd sacrifice yourself, just to kill me?! To save them?" Arcann gave her an incredulous look while he wiped the dirt from his face and pulled one of the bolts wedged into his chest armor out.

This should have been a quick and easy game for him. Surprise the Outlander, get rid of her crew and make a grab for the woman to bring her to Zakuul. He'd been preparing those simple plans from the moment his dreams warned him about Eliza's journey to Nathema but the visions had left one vital detail out—her powers. Not to mention he'd underestimated how far she'd go to protect those she loved. Such sacrifices were a foreign concept to him.

"I would. Now, let's begin, shall we?"

It was a polite invitation but her intentions were deadly and Eliza wasted not another second to launch herself at the tyrant she so deeply loathed. Forcing Arcann to defend himself, feebly while he remained stunned by her actions and their blades clashed, spitting crimson and golden sparks.

"Good. This is your moment," the voice of Vitiate spoke and he appeared, only to Eliza.

Circling the dueling pair like a coach praising his favorite student. Time, however, didn't pause for his deific presence and beyond the curve of Arcann's right ear, Eliza caught the smirk resting on Vitiate's spectral features.

She ducked to avoid a blow to her shoulder and retorted within her mind, "Get out! This is between me and the piece of shit you've failed to raise properly!"

"Temper. I'm only here to encourage your victory and ensure you don't do anything foolish."

"Like what? Use my powers against him? Yeah, I got the memo, I didn't forget but you never told me—how is it possible he shares your blood?"

"A ritual of Sith alchemy performed on the night of his conception to ensure my bloodline, not Valkorion's, would transfer to my heirs. Back when I believed they would be worthy."

Briefly, Eliza quirked a brow. "Did Senya know?"

"No."

"You're disgusting. So that's how you share the bond with your children, how they are yours. All three of them?"

"Of course. But, even with my blood coursing through their veins they failed my expectations and the destiny I had planned for each of them."

"So now I get to clean up your mess?"

"Only you can and this is the perfect opportunity." His ghostly form gestured at their surroundings with a satisfied grin.

"No distractions, no interference. No casualties to concern yourself with—it's only you and him and the gift of the Force surging within you, aiding only you. Strike him down so you may claim the throne."

Raw blisters formed in the palm of her hand when Eliza unintentionally grabbed the searing end of Arcann's blade and brought their battle to an abrupt halt. A realization hit her, triggered by Vitiate's words and it left her startled until rage kicked in.

"This was your doing… Somehow, through your bond, you lured him here, knowing my plans…"

She threw Arcann back, slamming him into the wall and turned her growing fury on the specter all too gleeful about his actions.

"Theron could be dying and all for what?! So you could force a confrontation between me and your despicable son?!"

By now she was no longer using her inner voice, instead screaming her accusations into thin air. Gesturing furiously at the figure only she could see and it was enough to not only raise, but confirm, the suspicions Arcann held—his father was there and he was part of the Sith woman now.

"You were wasting time and focused on frivolous matters. I couldn't make you listen so I found another way," Vitiate shared in calm.

"My nightmares, was that your doing as well?!"

"So many fears and anxieties to choose from, it was easy stirring them to invade your subconscious."

A red-hot orb, blazing and far more than a single flame, manifested by her fury, appeared in Eliza's hand and she hurled it in Vitiate's direction but all it did was combust into a charcoal ring on the stone wall. She hurled a second and a third while Vitiate snuck behind his son. Not for cover—she couldn't touch him—but to redirect her assault toward the errand child he wished to disown with a violent death.

The Emperor of Zakuul, who'd been so confident about his plan when he'd set foot on the planet earlier, was now no more than a bewildered spectator to a one-sided battle. A minor obstacle hardly worthy of notice while all of Eliza's ire honed in on Vitiate and yet it was the hem of Arcann's chest armor that caught fire.

"Enough!" Arcann bellowed but it was no use, she didn't see him now.

Bitterly he laughed—once more he'd been reduced to nothing—a sideshow in his own grand scheme. Unworthy of being regarded, of being heard, even by his enemy. With all he'd done to leave his mark upon the galaxy, upon the woman before him, he still walked in the shadows of a man who'd rejected and refused him throughout his entire childhood and young adult life. It ached inside of him and kindled his deep-rooted hatred.

Eliza sneered at Vitiate's form taunting her, "I cannot wait to rid myself of you, Vitiate, and this time I will make sure you won't find shelter in the body of another!"

Once more Arcann frowned, for as much as his disfigured face could, and he batted his blade to deflect another of her fireballs.

'I was right, about everything,' came his realization but he had little time to dwell on the accuracy of all his suspicions.

Whether she chose to or had merely gone too far beyond herself, the full potential of Eliza's gift combusted. A glorious fire razing the tunnels and feeding on all remaining oxygen. Scorching everything in sight to engulf the underground structure in a sea of flames. Triggering the explosive charges she and Jenna had set earlier to bring the entire building to its knees until nothing but a deadly silence remained.

"What do you need?!" fretted Jenna while she dug through the cabinets and grasped at any form of medical supplies she could find.

She spun back around to Doc with shaking hands and froze when she caught the trail of blood that ran out of the medbay all the way to the boarding ramp of the Vanora.

In all her adventures she'd never quite seen anything this bad and while it was tempting to surrender to her panic, she bit it back to focus on the matter at hand—Theron's body deadly pale and convulsing on top of the examination table.

"Activate the surgical droid and prepare the kolto tank. What's your blood type?"

"Osk plus."

"Good. He'll need a transfusion once we've stopped the bleeding," said Doc while he busied himself cutting through Theron's leatheris jacket and the shirt he'd worn underneath.

"What about him?" asked Andronikos with a nod at the Sith he supported under his arm and over his shoulder.

"Regular treatment or kolto won't do—his injuries are more complicated but less urgent right this second. Put him in Eliza's quarters for now then get us in the air."

"We're not really leaving her behind, are we?" Jenna's eyes darted between the two men.

Doc growled underneath his breath and frowned. "We have no choice.

"If we let either of them die because we went back for her, we might as well start digging our own graves right alongside of 'em. She'd never forgive us and Theron needs immediate treatment, we need to get to Odessen and fast. It's her or them."

"But—"

"The droid, Jenna," Doc cut her off, "now!"

Theron's body jerked a second time and the monitoring equipment Doc had hooked up sounded the high pitched beep of a flatline. They were losing him, fast and Doc ran a scan over Theron's chest to locate the source of the bleeding while Andronikos rushed to get the Vanora off the ground.

The engines roared and they lifted to the skies. Jenna listened to various mumblings uttered by Doc—major pulmonary artery, circulation, too much blood loss—and many medical terms she failed to understand while she prepared the kolto tank as instructed.

'Come on Theron, fight…' her mind begged and while she'd always regarded the Force as supernatural hogwash, she now prayed it would hear her pleas.

Her eyes fell on the closed door leading to Eliza's quarters and she scoffed, unintentionally blaming Lord Scourge for their current predicaments. A thought which then prompted a wry smile when she realized how quickly things changed—weeks ago she'd loathed the thought of Eliza with Theron, in defense of her oldest friend but now she found herself rooting for the couple while resenting the Sith whose survival threatened to tear them apart, if death wouldn't beat him to it first.

A far away explosion, large enough to ripple across the distance and temporarily disable the ship's instruments, pulled her from her thoughts and Jenna rushed for the side-viewport. Just in time to witness the architectural masterpiece reduce to nothing but a cloud of smoke and ashes while the planet's surface swallowed it whole.

Her eyes widened and her heart stilled. "Eliza…"

"Do we turn back?!" Andronikos yelled over his shoulder while he fought to maintain control of the ship.

"No! We have our orders, she made her choice." Anger thickened Doc's voice and he fought to keep his emotions at bay. "There's nothing we can do now but hope."

'And she's a survivor, she will be fine, she will, she has to and once she returns home…' he tried convincing himself and breathed a sigh of relief upon hearing Theron's heartbeat once more, 'she'll need you so fight, Shan, fight!'

Hours he spent with careful precision attempting to repair the ruptured artery near Theron's heart while the Vanora rushed through hyperspace leaving the Nathema system and Chorlian sector behind.

A somber atmosphere trapping everyone aboard the ship in a silence that would define their journey home in the days to come. Only ever interrupted by the monotonous beeps sounding from the monitoring equipment hooked up to Theron's kolto tank and the occasional nightmarish screams coming from Lord Scourge who remained in a deep slumber.