Ben was allowed one night of rest before his training started. He knew he should have savored it, but couldn't. The bliss of sleep rarely penetrated the dark fog surrounding his mind, and even when it did Kane's hollow expression haunted his empty sleep. Eventually, long after he lost track of time, an armed guard came and told him to get up and prepare for master Uthar's morning lesson.

Still groggy, Ben walked down the hall toward the practice room that he had been shown yesterday by Yuthura before his first attempt at sleep. The black robes he picked out instead of the uniform everyone else apparently decided to wear felt foreign to him; though it was made of the same material as the robes he wore on Dantooine. Perhaps it was the planet; perhaps it was that he was in the heart of the Sith academy, but it just felt wrong.

Minutes later, he arrived at the training room. Like the central area it was, in short, a wide and open space. But this one was square instead of circular, with a few sacks and lockers pushed against the walls. The students, varying from age and species, glared up at him in the doorway. Sheepishly, he looked away as he joined the edge of the group on the floor.

The glares dissipated, eventually. Taking a quick glance around, Ben scanned the faces of the crowd, never lingering on one for too long. Kane was not among them. Ben sighed silently.

It was then a sudden weight befell his mind as his body grew a little colder. Moments later, Uthar came striding through the archway.

"Hello, my students." Uthar greeted, not breaking stride. "Are you prepared to unlock more of your potential in the Force?"

Ben caught more then enough broad grins to confirm it. "Good," Uthar came to a stop in front of the closed stone door that led out to the valley. Then swung back around toward the hall on the heels of his boots. "Bring him in."

Metallic clattering echoed in the hall, reaching the ears of Ben and the students and lingering like the corrupted spirit of one who could not cross over. A man, dressed from head-to-toe in thrown together armor plating and wielding both a rusted sword and damaged shield, came bursting through the archway, stumbling forward and apparently trying to catch himself. But the armored weighed him down too much, and hit the stone floor with a crash that pang down the hall he just came from. Two guards followed, their weapons trained on the starved man.

"As you can see, my opponent is armed, and well-defended." Ben watched as the man struggled to stand, his oversized helmet twisting off and blinding him. He could almost hear his heart pounding from where sat. "Now you will see what to do when encountering men like this on the battlefield."

Uthar brought his full attention to the man. "Attack,"

To his credit, he didn't back down. Sweat trailing across his pale face, he hefted the sword and shield and charged with all his might, weapon raised while screaming in defiance. He made it almost three steps before coming to an abrupt halt.

The sword and shield slipped from his grip as he fell to his hands and knee's, letting out a cry that made Ben cringe and look away, until he forced himself to watch.

He couldn't figure out what was happening. Uthar still hadn't moved, not even raised a finger, but the man continued to scream. Until Ben noticed the armor. The worn-out plates were pushing against his skin, wrapping and gripping around his frail form. Between gaps in the suite, Ben could see dark drops of blood stain his skin and the metal.

And just when it seemed he—and Ben—couldn't take any more, Uthar moved. He became a blur, leaping forward and stabbing one of the twin blade of his weapon into the top of the man's exposed back, keeping the crimson energy blade plunged into his spine for a moment before throwing himself back and closing down his weapon. He didn't seem to be breathing harder.

The man, however, was different. He stayed upright, like a wire held him from the ceiling, gasping in shallow breaths that grew weaker each time until he collapsed. Ben stained his ear, but there were no more gasps to be heard.

"The Republic believes armor will protect its soldiers," Uthar said, moving toward the body. "As Sith, we must teach them that it dose not; it can only trap them."

The Sith Master turned to the group. "Today, each one of you shall complete this technique until it becomes second nature." More clattering echoed from the hall, and the waves of fear hit Ben with the keen sting of a lightsaber. Uthar eyed the boy.

"Let us begin." He said with a smile.

Many, many hours later, the lesson was concluded. Or maybe they just ran out of slaves. Ben didn't know nor cared at this point. His nerves were screaming for relief, or just to sit down. Time was irrelevant at this point, he just wanted some sleep.

Swaying down the hall, Ben was about to turn, and stopped cold.

Other then him, only one other person was in the hall, stalking ahead with a cloak draped around him. "Kane," Ben breathed. Though his mind clouded, his brother's presence was a blade that could pierce through it. But where once he felt confidence and strength, he now felt nothing.

Ben broke into a dead run, his legs almost staggering with each step. He bit the end of his lip and fought past the burning pain. Kane turned out of his sight, and a second later, Ben followed him around the corner—

And came to a stop in front of a stone door as it finished closing. Ben grimaced. It was Master Uthar's room. Not even Yuthura was allowed permission in there unless invited. Suppressing the coming feeling of dread, Ben walked away from the door. Tomorrow, He promised to himself.

Right now, he needed rest.

When Ben arrived at his sleeping quarters, a simple doorless room off the end of the hall with just a bed and small locker on the floor, Yuthura was there, waiting with two wooden weapons.

"Good afternoon, Master," Ben said with a slight bow, trying to figure why she was here. Might as well ask. "Can I ask what I have done to deserve an audience?" Hearing it through his own ears, he suppressed a cringe.

"It's the evening, Apprentice," Yuthura stood, taking the two weapons in her hand. "Master Uthar was unimpressed by your handling of a blade." She told him. "So he asked me to show you the finer displays of the weapon."

The Twilek tossed one of the weapons, the longer of the two; Ben noticed as he fumbled to grab it in mid-air and failed.

No, he would not be getting that rest any time soon.

For hours, the pang of wood smacking against wood echoed through the halls in rhythmic timing, one strike after the other, until once again it was broken off by a man's cry of pain.

Ben set his teeth as he rubbed the bright red spot on his right forearm, desperately trying to hold his anger down from the growing number of marks on his body.

"Do not suppress it," Yuthura chided him, spinning her shortened weapon in front of her with her eyes trained on Ben. "Embrace the anger, not hide from it."

She closed the gap between them in just a few short steps. Ben threw his weapon up at an angle, hoping to redirect her strike instead of taking the blunt of it and draining his already weary body. But she noticed this before they connected, and with a quick flick her wrist, turned his defense against him by almost wrenching his blade out of his hand. He hung on, but it costed him precious seconds that Yuthura used to drive the pommel of her wooden sword into Ben's nose.

Ben staggered back, his mind reeling from the pain. Her prowess with the short blade was beyond anything Ben had seen. He always believed it to be a burden then an advantage. For deflecting blaster bolts, he suspected he was right. But dueling was a much more personal form of combat, with only two people and their blades, fighting for dear life. She was deadly yet graceful all at once, getting under your defenses to where your normal length blade became all but useless. Ben had the scars and bruises all across his chest to prove it. Her style was as she was; cold, swift, and always controlled.

Wiping the blood from lip with his sleeve, Ben forced the pain down and gripped his wooded weapon with both hands and readied for the next assault.

But none came. Yuthura simply stood there, her sword hanging loosely in one hand and head tilted like she was waiting for something. "What's wrong?" Ben growled.

"You. You have made no attempt to attack, despite the pain. All you try to do is defend and wait out the battle." She gestured at his trembling form. "But even when you have nothing left to loose, you still don't raise your blade to me."

Abruptly, she lashed out, and Ben once again staggered under the force of the single attack.

"Do you want to be a Sith?"

Another strike. "Yes,"

"Then it's time you proved it." She lashed out—

And Ben caught the short blade mid-strike, shoved both weapons away and threw his elbow into the side of the Twilek's head. Now it was she who staggered, catching herself against the stone wall. Breathing stale air through his nostrils, he watched as she slowly collected herself and pushed away from the wall, though the Lekku on the side of her face he hit was twitching as her mouth twisted into a grim smile.

"Good," The smile faded. "Now unleash the anger."

Ben felt the tremors of her words. His anger was bubbling up to the surface, there was no doubt. And like a drowning man thrown a raft, he seized it.

The dark veil clouding his thoughts, his very being since arriving on Korriban, suddenly lifted. The cells in his body began accelerating through his blood once again, pumping his muscles with burning energy. And his mind became lost in all of it. Then, he remembered about Yuthura.

With the Force now truly flowing through him, his weary body now rejuvenated with newfound power, he launched himself toward her. She caught the first onslaught of attacks, if only. Ben and the wooden sword became a blur, but to him, her blocks seemed slowed. With one hand, he struck, and with one leg, he swept at her feet. He knew she wouldn't try to dodge both, so instead ducked the blade and took the boot on the side of the shoulder.

She toppled down, but Ben wouldn't give her a second. Throwing his weight forward, he slammed his blade down at her, forcing her to stay on the floor and block his assault as best she could. But the force of the strikes was too much for the blades to endure. With a final strike, both the blades broke off violently at the hilts, splitting off in different directions down the hall.

Using the momentary distraction, Ben reached out with his senses and tore the remaining bit of her weapon from her grasp, sending it into the farthest wall and causing it to shatter into a thousand small splinters.

Before she could react, he called on the Force to pin her arms and legs to the floor and threw himself atop her, placing the sharp points of his broken sword at her throat.

"Now do you see?" Yuthura breathed, her eyes locked with Ben's as she fought for breath. "Within you lies power enough to bring the Republic down to its knee's. And through those passions, I will teach you how to harness this power."

Slowly, he eased his hold on her, until her muscles finally relaxed and the veil returned, though thinner then last.

For what felt like eternity, they stayed where they were, staring into the other's eyes. Until Ben let his weapon fall from his hand and moved in closer, pressing his lips against hers. After a moment, he felt her do the same, wrapping her arms around his back and pulling him closer, pushing their warm bodies together.

It was a long while before they were finished. With the ruffled covers of his bed pulled up to his waist, Ben watched with a grin that would not leave his face as Yuthura loosely pulled her uniform back on and strode off, catching the small wink before she passed the corner.

Ben slid his arms back and laced his fingers together behind his head. He'd just defied all his mentor's teachings and the very essence of a Jedi in this new age. He'd given into his anger, his passions and burning lust. It filled him; consumed him.

And he liked it.