Disclaimer: All rights belong to Disney, George Lucas, and all the men and women that created the Star Wars movies, books, and comics. I take no credit, and I do not mean to break any copyright rules. This is simply a work of fiction made for enjoyment. No money is being made. The cover art image belongs to peanutbutterroastedchestnuts. tumblr .com (remove the spaces)
Rating: T for violence, disturbing imagery, and dark themes
Author's Note: This is the shortest chapter of the story, but it's important for later. Also a big thanks to my beta, Vika, who managed to still edit this chapter despite being on surgery leave. She's awesome.
Chapter 5
Outer Rim Territories, Thrasybule Sector, Malrev System, 39 BBY
Malrev IV is not the ideal place to be. There's one native specie, who has become demented over the years from the Sith temple's dark magic, and there's the said Sith temple. Of course, my master had thought it would be perfect. This place is even more isolated than Hoth, and not as cold.
There's another temple on the planet Zaloga, but that's where Darth Sidious stores away all his Sith artifacts. It's his favorite, and there's a much greater chance he'll be there. So instead I'm stuck in this dump, looking at a temple that appears to be an upside down pyramid. Same coloring, too.
Malrev IV is covered in forests, but they're not lush and peaceful like those of Naboo. These ones are a dark green, and they remind me of all things sinister, just like the crazy and dangerous native inhabitants. It seems Sith magic can affect everything and anything if left alone.
I enter the temple with no issues, but I mean, who is there to stop me? I'm a Sith, and this is practically my home. I'm always welcome here.
There's an altar in the middle, made of black obsidian and glowing with the same red crystals that power my lightsaber. The edges are jagged, and it's a beautiful work of dark art. The nearer I approach it, the more voices I hear. Dark, low whispers from previous Sith and other dark side force users surround me, getting into my head and seemingly going through my thoughts and memories. They taunt me and criticize me, but I'm used to it. In fact, it's almost comforting.
I kneel in front of the altar and let my mind open up, breathing in the darkness and exhaling my complicated feelings and emotions. The voices whisper of their horrible acts, of all the things they accomplished as Sith Lords of the past. Accounts of slaughtered Jedi children and adults alike are among the most common, but massacred villages and cities and even planets are also told. All this violence happened for no reason. Jealousy and hatred are excuses, the same kind of excuses cowards use so they don't have to own up to their actions.
Power is another reason, but at least that one isn't an excuse. The Sith are known for being power-hungry. It's ingrained in you during the harsh training. Greed, too. Greed leads to power. You never have enough if you can have more. All these planets full of people disillusioned by the allure of freedom. Please. Their idea of freedom leads to bad decisions, and bad decisions lead to destruction. I know that from experience.
Even as I kneel in on the rugged carpet, my black robes flowing over my shoulders and pooling on the ground, I feel my emotions being purged. There's no need for generosity, for those you give it to will just end up abusing it. There's no need for kindness, for those who you are kind to will take it for granted. There's no need for charity, for those you help will eventually be corrupted. There's no need for self-control, for by keeping your strength in check you offer up a weakness your enemy can exploit.
But there's also no need for anger, because anger makes you impulsive, and impulsiveness can lead to your downfall. There's no need for jealousy, because jealousy makes you do things you wouldn't do with a clear mind. There's no need for hatred, for hatred leads to making regretful decisions.
A clear mind with only one goal - power - is what a Sith should have. Power to rule over others. Power to be unstoppable in battle. Power to defeat all your opponents. Power to harness the force to do your will. Power to control your emotions and keep you stable. Power is what drives us, and power is what keeps us strong.
I feel the voices of a thousand Sith before me backing up my words, helping me get rid of everything weighing me down. The candles in the temple flicker and go out, and I'm plunged into darkness.
But darkness is good, for darkness hides what the light cannot. Darkness allows the freedom, light only showcases it. More can be accomplished in the dark than in the light. Cowards hide under the sun where they are protected by their sight, but those who are strong walk the shadows, trusting their other senses to alert them. I bite my lip. I know these are lies, all of them. I've seen even the smallest glimmer of light transform a dark place.
But… Why would a light shine so unassuming, so bright, so hopeful, so beautiful, and why, why of all things, would we be told that such a light is bad? Why are we taught to revel in the darkness? That same darkness hides the abuse of so many. It hides those who abuse their own power. It hides atrocities that could be stopped if only light exposed it to someone who could help. Suddenly, my insides quake. Why am I thinking these thoughts? If anyone knew that I, I of all people, have gone soft, gone straight, gone good, I'd be hunted and killed. There is no dissent allowed when you are a Sith.
This is exactly why I'm here. To banish thoughts such as those. Focusing my mind, I delve back into the Sith mindset, searching the dark side of the force.
Fear. Fear is the other goal Sith try to achieve. If you can't fear your master, fear nothing yourself, for everyone fears you. Your reputation should be enough to make parents warn their children about you in bedtime stories, and make the parents themselves wary of heading out into the night. Your name should be so feared it's banished from minds and forbidden to be said. The sight of you should send everyone else either freezing in fear or running away. Your voice should send chills down others' spines and your silhouette should block out the sun. You should wield fear like a weapon, banishing hope and instilling instant obedience.
But…
Again with the voice in my head! I shut it away quickly.
Power and fear are the most dangerous weapons we have, but they are used effectively and in moderation. Too much fear and you rule cowards. Not enough fear and you have to put down revolutions. Too much power and you lose it, not enough power and you're not respected. It's all a fine balance, a walk on a wire with a plunge to either extreme if you slip. It's a horrible way to live.
I had been slipping on the not-enough-fear and not-enough-power side. By showing acts of helpfulness and generosity, I had been tarnishing my reputation. The only way to restore your reputation is to use more power and fear, but you have to be careful not to use too much of either.
"What do I need to do?" I ask aloud, my voice unrecognizable to myself. It's darker and lower than before, and edged with cruelty. It's the way a proper Sith's voice should sound. "I thought I knew what to do, but something's wrong. I can't think clearly anymore!"
The voices of the Sith crash over me, instructing me and giving me strength. I feel as though I'm being awakened from a restoring sleep as energy and power surges through me. I am confident and unstoppable. I am powerful and feared. I am the strongest of all, and I can take on anything. The universe is mine to command, and all that's left is for me to go ahead and conquer it. My subjects will bow down to me in reverence and do my bidding, and my enemies will scatter like a breaking wave as I wet the ground with their blood. No one is higher than I, and no one can stop me.
I am no longer weak and scared. That person is years ago and not me anymore. I am power and I am strength. I am fear and I am unstoppable. Wielding the powers of darkness, even the light must succumb to me.
Stop!
I am red and I am the blood that flows from the wounds of my nemeses. I am the black of the darkest night, and I am the energy thrumming through your veins. I am the chill that makes you shiver even in the warmest nights, and I am the shadow that never disappears.
Turn back now!
I suffocate those words with the fire of my strength.
I am a Sith, and I am indestructible.
I feel my eyes burn red, but there is no pain. I am above suffering, for suffering is only in your head. Pain, grief, anger - it's all a part of your brain you can turn off it, you know how. And I do. I don't feel. To be the supreme entity of the universe you don't have to feel. You just have to do. You have to have a metal heart because an icy one can melt. You have to have a steel resolve because an iron one is too weak. You have to have burning disciplines because any less is not strong enough.
Bursting out the doors of the temple, I hear my master's voice as if he's speaking next to me: "You have taken the first steps."
To what?
I want to ask, but I don't need to anymore. I've taken the first steps to rekindle the darkness that I once had when I first started my training. Hate and anger are only the path to the dark side, and once on the main path you have to leave the petty emotions aside. My self-hate and anger at myself and at my weaknesses had been blinding my ultimate goals as a Sith, but no more. My mind is filled with a desire for more power, and nothing else.
Standing in a semi-circle around the doors to the temple are dozens of Irrukiines, the four-armed, demented inhabitants. They guard the temple, but will attack anyone in the area. And I've just stepped out of the temple.
Deep down I know I can use the dark side of the force to control them, but I don't feel like doing that. My lightsaber handle thrums in my belt, begging me to use him. All I can see is red, and I feel is a want to destroy them all. How dare they look at me as if I'm their prey? I am a Sith lord, powerful enough to slay them all.
Without even being conscious about it, I pull out my double bladed lightsaber and switch both blades on, the red crystals begging to jump around and destroy. I narrow my eyes at the Irks, with their wolf-like faces and sharp teeth, their four arms not intimidating me at all. They're pure muscle, making me look like a frail puppet next to them, but I'm not. I'm the one pulling all the strings here.
They leap at me with glowing yellow eyes and growls and any sort of other sound a wild animal makes in its fury. My knees bend and my hands twist at the lightsaber handles, pulling the two blades apart and brandishing one in each hand. I twirl them in large circles like helicopter blades before the sabers actually start hitting flesh and bones, tearing through them like a hot knife through butter.
Wave after wave of Irrukiines come at me, but I tirelessly take them all out, twirling and slashing and stabbing. At some point I reconnect my blades into one long one again, and with one hand I whirl that around while using the other to summons the force and throw the creatures against trees and rocks and against the temple. They fall the the ground, either unmoving or whimpering in pain.
It feels like I'm fighting them for hours, my energy constantly being renewed by the temple behind me. With each slash and cut I'm regaining my power and the confidence that leads to being feared, even if there are no witnesses here.
Soon I'm surrounded by heaps of carcasses, the remaining Irks fleeing to the safety of the forests. My arm drops in resignation as I realize there is nothing left to fight. No one here to spread fear to. I'm all alone now.
Exhaustion hits me, but I can't let it control me. I hit the button on my lightsaber to retract the blades before walking back to my starship. I climb in, yelling orders to my droid. KZ-4 doesn't react, doesn't move.
"What the matter with you?!" I yell, turning my attention to it. He finally lets out a shiver and lets out a fearful beep. Great. So my droid is terrified of me. What good does that do? "We're getting off this dump," I snap to him. "And if you don't help me you're going to get dumped in the next junkyard I see."
He finally sets a course, but not without letting out more scared noises. I translate one of his sentences as saying, "What happened to you?" but it must be a mistake. I've always been this way. Lately I'd been letting my judgement be clouded, but those days are over.
I'm strong. I'm fearless. And it's about time the whole universe knows who I am.
I am Minerva.
Outer Rim Territory, Unknown Sector, Anthan System, 50 BBY
My passion is history. It's the only subject at the academy I enjoy taking, and it's the only one I excel at. Why history? you may ask. Well, it's quite simple. History is full of stories of underdogs who start out low and become the most powerful and fearless leaders in the universe. People start out like me, or even lower - though it's harder to imagine - and make their way up the social ladder to achieve success.
I want to be among them someday. I want my name to be in history books for people to read. Kids like me, who grow up in a rough home full of neglect and suffering - they'll read about me and be inspired. They'll believe they can be a better person, a version of themselves that they love and are proud of. They'll grow up and be encouraged by my story and my success, and they'll change the world as they see fit.
Imagine that. A whole generation of children devoted to being the best version of themselves that they can dream of? The universe would completely change.
Most of all, they wouldn't suffer the same way I do, barely having the courage to daydream about a better life and knowing I won't ever possess the courage to stand up for myself.