Chapter Twenty Five: Realizations
Time passed. Where once the students would be concerned in regards to each passing hour, days began to slip past their discerning grasp. Training continued. With each new day brought new trials for the acolytes of Lord Syrosk to complete. And with each new trial brought strengthened bodies, hardened minds, and heightened capabilities. Day after day. Week after week. The students knew they were being driven toward something. Something great.
The relationships between the various duos shifted as time progressed. Gone were the distractions of insecurity and fear. Each acolyte had become sufficiently confident in the capabilities of themselves and their partner such that they could appropriately set their sights on the prospect of victory. Each student had begun to respect one another. Strength recognized strength. Knowledge recognized knowledge. One by one the students realized that there was insight to partake in by observing their fellows, if not directly then at least indirectly.
Arlia studied the borrowed tome of Lorrik and eventually saw it returned to its rightful owner, after a sufficient period of time, during which it somehow managed to make the rounds to the other pairs first. Ryloh and Kar'ai had become more connected than ever, supporting one another in their bid for partnered superiority. Nesk and Vurt had managed to channel their opposing temperaments toward a common purpose, combating one another to better themselves without selfish reservations. Bleeding through the walls of the students' accommodations was the tumultuous sounds of practiced brawling and determined melees. Isorr slowly realized that the others were progressing at a steady rate and dedicated himself to his studies, no longer relying on the perceived innate superiority of his Sith tenets and ideology.
It had been more than half a year since the acolytes had first begun their training under Lord Syrosk and they had yet to fully understand the motives of their enigmatic master, but none could argue with the results. As much freedom as they thought they had away from the training grounds, all could sense the continuing influence of the Sith Lord. An ethereal hand guiding them. An all-seeing eye gazing upon them in their free time. But none could prove it. There was a chance all of it was a fluke. That their progression was simply because of their inherent talents. That Lord Syrosk was an extraneous cog in the machine's ever so intricate workings. The students knew better, however. Time had passed, but not enough for them to have forgotten their lives before their new master. Years and years of the harsh realities of the Academy under instructor rule were not readily eroded with the passing of the Korriban winds. Whether it was their master, their partner, or the unique assemblage of the eight students, each acolyte was sure that there was some force beyond mere coincidence to blame for their rapidly advancing studies.
Soon, the acolytes found themselves skilled combatants in the way of the saber. Lord Syrosk had taken to private lessons, teaching each of the students the intricacies of the lightsaber forms, shaping and developing a fighting style suited to their unique talents and capabilities. The acolytes found themselves more attuned to the Force, capable of not only projecting but defending against a number of powerful energies. Lifting pebbles turned to lifting stones. Lifting stones turned to lifting boulders. With each new test, each student found a new exhaustion point to be reached. Each pair would push themselves to the brink of collapse and rest up for the next trial placed in front of them. Lorrik and Jresh retained their advantage with recovering because of the inquisitor's unique healing capabilities, but it wasn't long before the others each found their own power to draw upon. When the day came for the inquisitors to conjure lightning, they would succeed, or be beaten until their hatred overflowed into manifestation. Four inquisitors were tested. Four inquisitors succeeded.
Each acolyte now held something firmly in their minds. In their hearts. They had finally received the confirmation they so deeply desired. It didn't come when they discovered they were Force-sensitive. It didn't come when they were inducted into the Academy. It didn't come when they endured hours upon hours of lecture on codes and doctrines and tenets and expectations and rituals. It came when each student looked not outward for confirmation, but inward. There, upon gazing into abyssal meadow of potential, each had realized.
They are Sith.