:: Chapter Fifty Two ::
"You appear troubled," Sana-Rae's quiet and warm voice reached Senya.
"I am terribly conflicted," sighed the woman knelt by the altar designed to worship the Old Gods.
"Deep down I have known, for some time, that my son had gone too far, especially following his assault on the Imperial planets. I knew the odds of his survival but I cannot reconcile myself with his death," Senya's words were laden and difficult to get past her lips.
"I understand why the Commander had to do what she did but I cannot forgive her. I cannot punish her either, not now I know she mourns him too and cared for him."
It had been Senya lurking in the shadows that morning, bearing witness to the visit Eliza had paid Arcann.
She'd hidden to avoid a confrontation, and even considered ambushing the distracted Commander, but then she'd heard the tears. Quiet sobs mixed with confessions, and she'd watched Eliza hold her son's hand, kiss his forehead. Leaving her to realize that, through everything that had happened, the woman she hated had loved her son and ached over her own actions.
"How do I cope with that? Where do I go now?"
Sana-Rae adjusted her robe and knelt by the grieving mother. "These are not answers I can give you—only you can decide which path to walk."
"How do I decide? What do I do?"
"Do you wish to return home?"
"No. There is nothing but pain waiting for me on Zakuul. The loss of love, all three of my children gone from this world. The betrayal of a man who once held my heart and an Order that disgraced all we held dear."
"But can you remain here, in this place where your past lives on?"
Senya lowered her eyes and wiped a tear from her cheek. "No. It is my duty to see Zakuul freed, or I believed it was, but I no longer possess the strength to fight this war. I cannot see beyond my own pain."
"May I offer you a choice?"
"Please."
"On Voss, we have a sanctuary—the Shrine of Healing. It is not only for the physically wounded or ill but a place of serenity to mend the mind and spirit," Sana-Rae spoke with gentle reverence and nostalgia.
"You and I are not so different, I have found, and my people would welcome you."
"Do you intend to return?" asked Senya.
"Yes. This war has overcome its greatest obstacles and peace lies in the near future. I have done my part and shared my knowledge with those who would accept it. It is time to return home."
"Is it the Force's will I join you? Have you seen?"
"I cannot say—I can only offer the choice."
Senya nodded. She appreciated the Mystic's wisdom and often found calm in her words, the way she used to when the Scions would counsel her and guide her path. The Voss weren't too different—embracing accurate visions and the Force as a whole, much as she did.
"Thank you. I believe it may be time for a new chapter in my life." She gave a cautious smile.
"Your son would be welcome, too. We would balm him and guide his spirit to new life."
"In my culture, we cremate our dead. We believe it breaks their last remaining shackles—the body—so they may be free at last and become one with the Force."
Sana-Rae understood and placed her hand over Senya's. "Do you wish for me to speak to the Commander on your behalf and arrange for a ceremony?"
"If you would, please. I cannot face her yet but if you could convey my wishes and gain permission to cremate him in the Wilds, out by the clearing, I'd be grateful."
Senya paused and let another deep sigh escape, wrestling with her own thoughts but then added, "And inform her she is welcome to observe from a distance should she wish it."
—
His father looked a little worse for wear but no less imposing, and Theron paced the security hub before he finally entered his access code. The door slid open with a hiss, signaling the man who'd been mirroring his restless gait.
"I wasn't certain you'd come, or whether she would let you," said Jace and he invited his son to sit.
Theron waved him off, preferring to linger at the door and maintain emotional distance. For an escape should the conversation take a turn to matters he felt unwilling to discuss. He tossed his father a packet of Frizzer-sweets.
"You assume the worst but you don't know her."
"I know enough—she's Sith."
"A Sith who saved your life. Is it true you'd planned to aid Arcann in our capture?"
Jace scoffed, "Bet she couldn't wait to tell you about that."
"Answer me."
"Yes, it's true, but I would have never let anything happen to you."
"No? So what was your foolproof plan to capture us while ensuring my safety?"
Knowing exactly what his team had planned, his father looked away and let a simple shrug roll along his shoulders. "I would have figured something out," he lied.
"Try again."
Jace sat back, his arms crossed before him. "The SIS learned her daughter and family hide out on Rishi. We'd intended to create the illusion they were in danger to lure her out of hiding—away from you—and to the pirate planet."
"You'd jeopardize their lives? That of innocent children?!" Theron stood baffled and his fist tensed when he heard the confession.
Another shrug followed. "They wouldn't have been in any immediate danger and had something gone wrong... hell, they're all Sith. Small price to pay."
"For what?! Eliza's capture wouldn't have ended this war, she was never the source of it! All this started long before the Alliance was formed!"
"Arcann wanted her caught, we wanted his favor. We're starved for resources and our people are suffering."
"Unbelievable..."
All Theron could do was shake his head, repeatedly, unable to fathom his father would sink this low. That the Republic and the SIS would go to these lengths. That wasn't the Republic he'd been willing to die for once upon a time.
"You're talking about a child barely four years old. My girlfriend's daughter," he sighed. "Do you have any decency left at all? Any honor?"
"Your girlfriend?" Jace gave him a wide-eyed stare—how had he not realized this sooner?
"Yes."
"What happened to your marriage with uh... Nadia, Nikki..."
"Nyssa, and we split up almost two months ago."
"You let a Sith come between you and your wife?"
"Two seconds ago you didn't even remember her name, don't pretend to care," Theron spat.
He hadn't known the man all his life and after they'd met, he'd begun understanding why Satele hadn't introduced them sooner—Jace Malcom was a bitter man. Once idealistic and driven in his goal to serve the Republic, he'd fought one or two wars too many. Seen and done more than his character could handle and it had left him changed.
It made him closed off and difficult to talk to. Jace had made the odd attempt to be a part of his son's life, a lunch invitation every now and then to force idle conversation, but to say they'd ever truly bonded would be an overstatement.
The old man rose from his seat and carried on the aimless gait he'd paced earlier. "I'm no good with this father stuff, I never got to be one or learned but I do care, Theron."
"Try showing it. Lay off Eliza, and don't ever go near her family because they're mine now too."
"She is Sith! A Force user!"
"So what?"
"We don't matter to their kind, son. They serve their Force mumbo-jumbo, a higher calling, one we can never measure up to," Jace grumbled while he shook his head.
"She'll hold you to standards you cannot possibly meet and one day she'll be gone, just like that, like you never mattered. Treating you like a stranger if you're ever unfortunate enough to cross paths again."
Bitterness rang clear in Jace's voice and part of the problem suddenly clicked in Theron's mind.
"Eliza is nothing like the Grandmaster, and I'm nothing like you."
"She's dangerous. A traitor and a murderer."
"Aren't we all? I've killed those I've had to and you know my reputation with the SIS. You've had the blood of innocents on your hands."
"Do you know what she did to Saresh?"
"Really? That is who you wish to bring into this argument?" Theron quirked a brow.
"You need to be with someone who deserves you. Someone good."
"She makes me happy—that should matter more to you than your own hatred and prejudice."
"I can't look at her without remembering all she and her kind have done. Without again hearing the screams of my soldiers dying at the hand of a Sith!"
"And I understand that but try. If you want me in your life, if you wish to get out of here, try."
His father scowled and sat back down. "She'll kill me once you tell her of my plans."
"You would have endangered her daughter," Theron fired back and turned, his hand ready on the door handle.
"This might be an odd concept to you but most parents don't take kindly to others putting their children in danger, and most parents don't attempt to partner up with someone who poses a threat to their child's survival."
Those last words hit Jace with a dose of reality as the door slammed and Theron left. Leaving him behind and he realized how far he'd gone—too far—the anger of his son slowly opening his eyes.
—
"It honestly wasn't that big of a deal," said Praven and if his complexion could show it, one would see him blush.
"Are you kidding me? It was dreamy," Liyana gushed while telling Eliza all about the proposal made to her brother.
They sat on cushions around a low table loaded with pastries, fruit, various beverages and other delights Lilija Cytharat had prepared.
"He'd illuminated the path up the mountains with candles, one for each day they've known each other, and prepared a picnic at the top. Homecooked favorites, wine, and poetry under the moon and stars."
Lord Cytharat smiled and ran his fingers through Praven's long, voluminous, black locks for once not hidden by the helmet he wore far too often.
"It's true, and at the end of the night, he gave me a holocron locked by a memory crystal—our love was the key. Traveling the road from when we first met, recalling every other first we've shared, fueled the crystal to open the holocron. The ring sat tucked inside.
"When I looked back at him, he was down on one knee. Nervous, his eyes reflecting my own tears and he vowed to forever be at my side no matter what challenges lie ahead. Remind me each day of his love for me... how could I say no?"
The two men exchanged a glance and Lord Cytharat caressed the invisible fluster on Praven's cheek before he kissed his fiancé. Basking in the love they'd found together and Eliza smiled fondly.
"I'm so happy for you both, this is incredible news."
"Thank you," said Praven.
"Have you decided on a date yet?"
"Sometime after the war when we're all reunited again." Lord Cytharat looked toward the other end of the table. "Liyana and my parents are leaving for Rishi tomorrow."
"Even though we're this close to ending the war?" asked Eliza and she turned to Valdis Cytharat. "I'd love to spend more time with all of you."
"You will, once everything has settled," he promised her.
She'd only known them for an hour, and she was the odd one out at a table full of Purebloods, but something about their presence brought her joy. Distant as they might be through the generations, they were family, Lord Cytharat's and her own and he'd become like an older brother to her rather than a second cousin.
"I have something for you as well." Lilija excused herself and returned moments later to hand Eliza a brown paper, soft package.
"Presents?" She deftly removed the wrapping to reveal a set of black robes.
The garment was sewn from nanosilk lined with cortosis-weave and made to fit an estimation of her frame. The Ignis family crest adorned the left chest while a golden trim ran around the collar, down the front and across the hems of both sleeves. Smaller versions of the crest ran along the bottom in elegant detail.
"This is gorgeous," she gasped in awe.
"Your grandfather and those before him would wear such robes to official gatherings. I also made a smaller set for your daughter though she may need to grow into them," Lilija said.
"She'll be over the moon… thank you so much." Eliza got up to embrace the woman.
"It is my pleasure, and we're ever so grateful for everything you've done. We truly thought our days had been numbered on Athiss until Tallis arrived."
"We would have never left you to your fate. I just wish we could have done more for everyone else."
"You have avenged them," Valdis spoke up, referencing her recent actions, "As a true champion of the Sith. We're proud of you, and your grandfather would be as well."
His well-intended comment dulled her joy, only for a moment, but Eliza held her head high and flashed him an appreciative smile.
This was how anyone other than herself would react, and had. In just the past twenty-four hours, many on the Odessen base had halted their step in passing to shake hands with her and thank her—she'd have to get used to it, and tried.
"Was our family truly close?" she asked.
"Once upon a time, our houses sat built on the same mountain for generations and I believe Tallis has told you of the many Cytharat who wed an Ignis?"
Praven bit back a chuckle, remembering her initial reaction after reading the book of ancestry.
"He did." Eliza avoided meeting Praven's eyes. "I was thrilled to discover I had more family left than I'd originally thought."
"As we were to discover your family lived on." Lilija poured herself another cup of tea.
Liyana rose from the cushion she'd sat on and looked at both her parents. "May I be excused, please?"
"We're not finished yet and we have guests," said her father.
"I am, and I promised Darius I'd meet him to hang out."
"Again?" Her mother frowned.
"We're leaving soon! I just want to spend what time I can with him."
Eliza raised a curious brow and leaned in to whisper in Lord Cytharat's ear, "Your sister and Darius?"
"My parents aren't too happy about it, think she's a bit young for boys and crushes but, yes."
"And it's mutual?"
"Seems to be, they've been sneaking away often and every morning when my father leaves these quarters, a fresh flower lies on the doorstep. It's cute but she's barely sixteen."
"I can talk to him if you're worried?"
"I'm not overly worried, they leave tomorrow, but if you could I'd appreciate it."
Eliza nodded and watched Liyana leave. "Sure, it'll give me some practice for when my own son hits his teens."
"Your own son?" Praven asked.
"Uh, well, if I'm ever to have one," she corrected her minor slip of the tongue and tried to keep a straight face. "Never know what the future holds, right?"
"True," Lord Cytharat agreed and took a sip of his wine.
"Though if I were you, I'd hold off on kids until the unwelcome guest has vacated your body. The last thing you'd want is the Sith Emperor getting his hands on your unborn child."
No doubt he'd meant to sound lighthearted and offer mere advice but Eliza paled at his words. Amidst everything that had happened, she hadn't once considered what Vitiate's presence might mean for the son growing inside of her and suddenly, she was ill at ease about the Emperor's continued silence.
Could he be up to something she'd failed to be aware of?
"Speaking of which," she uttered and stood up, feeling an urgent need to get back to her room, "I have some work to do in that department, figuring out the ritual and holocron…"
"Anything we could assist with?" Lilija offered and walked her to the door.
"Perhaps with translations, I'll let you know. Thank you ever so much, for everything, it was lovely meeting all of you."
She managed to keep her voice even long enough to express her gratitude and say goodbye but once she'd made it out of their quarters, she rushed for her own. Turning one drawer after another upside down to find what she needed more than anything—the Force dampener—a temporary solution, she hoped.
