"Look at you," the familiar face in front of me sneered. "Finally doing the right thing for once."

I took small, shallow breathes as I pulled onto the Force. Even with the bacta working its magic, the pain was intense. If I broke my concentration for even a moment, just a second, I would be whimpering and screaming. It was not the first time Force Lightning made its mark, but Harkun's thunder was far worse than my previous instructors. Unsurprising given the vitriol and hate I felt rolling off him, but still intense.

"When was the last time you did that?" she asked me, enjoying the ruined state of my body. "Acting so selfless? Maybe you're finally starting to realize this isn't what you're supposed to be doing?"

The emotions flowing through the dormitories was worse than in the academy itself. The planet was entrenched in hate and death, and the academy a sea of betrayals and anger, but the dormitories were a storm. I felt the dwindling compassions of acolytes as they started to realize what they were doing, what they had to sacrifice if they needed to survive. Others remained resolute, but all the more fearful. The rest were full of broiling rage, waiting for the opportune moment to unleash it. One such person was next door, who saw me being carried into my room by Kory and another acolyte. I remembered the sadistic gleam in those eyes.

The woman folded her arms, her yellow lenses glaring down at me with disgust. "How much longer are you going to do this? Do you not even realize what you're doing to yourself? Do you even remember who you were anymore?!" She threw her arms in exasperation and began pacing around the room. "Looking at you makes me sick. You watched other acolytes before you wither and die like flies through training because you were too scared, too weak to do anything. I remember you would have done something, anything to save their lives."

Through the Force, I saw the camera staring at me from the corner of my room. The overseers and higher-ups were watching us like hawks, no doubt wanting to see who was worth training and who was better off dead in a ditch. They could plainly see which acolytes were the weak links. It also helped to ensure no-one committed an "unauthorized murder" here like everywhere else. That was…nice, I suppose.

"I should be happy you finally went out of your way to save someone, but do you know what I feel right now? At this moment?" I craned my head, doubling my concentration when I felt the pain spike. The woman's face nearly touched mine. I stared at the reflection of a blindfolded girl with short hair in those lenses. "You're a goddamn hypocrite."

My response to her accusation was quiet whisper. "You haven't said anything I never told myself."

Skitter growled at me, radiating anger.

"…you're a brave girl, do you know that?"

I looked over my shoulder and found an acolyte standing near the entryway. He was a surly fellow, broad shoulders with scars to match. When I glanced back at Skitter, she was nowhere to be found.

"Stupid, you mean," I replied, wincing in pain. My throat was uncomfortably sore. "Harkun's the type to hold a grudge."

The acolyte nodded in agreement. "And then some, yeah. Still, you earned some brownie points from the other acolytes who've had to put up with his shit. You came with the newest batch the other day, right?"

"What of it?"

"Just thought you might need some friendly advice. Some overseers are more lenient than others, but they're all dangerous. Especially the nice ones, but I'm sure you know that." The acolyte glanced outside, peering at the halls for eavesdroppers and turning back to me. "That girl you saved, Kory I think her name was? She was sent to Spindrall, where the rest of the drop-outs are sent. He's one of the better teachers and doesn't discriminate. I thought you'd like to know."

The vision from yesterday was fresh in my mind. Kory would have died, and I was wholly prepared to let it happen. She was not the first one I watched drop dead in front of me. So many others, some better men than me, and they never made the cut. All because they were kind. The Sith destroyed and pounced on such weaknesses. By saving Kory, I made myself vulnerable to not just the overseers, but even the other acolytes.

…but I can't bring myself to regret it.

"Is that all?"

"One more thing," the acolyte grunted. "Be careful who you make friends with. You never know who might stab you in the back."

"Like you?"

"Never said I wanted to be friends with a girl who's got a death wish," he snorted and walked away. "Try not to get yourself killed too early, girl."

His presence vanished, retreating into the storm of emotions. Even so, I kept vigilance. Just because killing another acolyte was forbidden didn't mean someone might try and press their luck. There was no telling when the cameras might "malfunction", after all.

I thought back to Kory, wondering what could have possessed me to step in and save her after all this time. Did I just feel guilty after letting so many others die before her? Or did I just want to be something other than what I was trying to become to survive? Once upon a time, I thought I was a good person. Once upon a time, I did things no 'good person' would think of doing. I did what I had to do in order to survive. The Gold Morning was testament to that.

What I was doing was no different, and yet…

"Is this the animal you want to be?"

I don't know if that was me saying that or someone else. All I knew was that I didn't know the answer.

It scared me.

It was early morning according to my terminal. The beasts were back out on the prowl while acolytes and soldiers went about their daily duties. Harkun had yet to announce the next trial, leaving those of us in his group to go about our plans. My wounds were mostly healed, but I was advised not to move around too much to not aggravate the wounds yet to heal. Bandages and gauze were used to hide the worst of them.

Moving about the academy grounds, I felt numerous stares my way. Hungry, wolf-like, eyeing easy prey. In my current state, I doubt I'd be able to fight them off. The worst came from the faculty, or at least the pureblood Sith who looked upon me with obvious disdain. Their looks in particular chilled me to the bone.

Scion was, by far, the scariest monster I had the unfortunate pleasure of meeting. How else could I describe the golden man who killed god knows how many people across the multiverse? How many Earths had he managed to slaughter and rip apart before I broke him? His final moments were engrained into my memory. They were so empty, so…lifeless. I could not tell what he felt during his actions, but what I did to him, parading Eden's body around like a corpse to taunt him… It produced the first and only time I saw any real emotion from him.

These Sith were worse, despite lacking the god-like power Scion had. They could not ruin worlds with but a thought and wave of golden light. Yet whereas Scion made it impossible to know what went through his head, the Sith made their expressions and feelings known, both visibly and through the Force. It was times like these I wished I was born as someone else, or at least a defective Miraluka who had zero Force sensitivity. Wafting around in the broiling sea of negativity… It reminded me far too much of Brockton Bay at its worst.

And yet, I have to be like them if I want to survive, I thought to myself with a grimace.

Small wonder why Skitter hated me so much. At least she was honest about what she wanted for the Bay towards the end of her days as Warlord. She was who I used to be.

I did my best to ignore the looks thrown my way, and instead explored the academy's halls. The places only acolytes were allowed were far and above the facilities in previous institutions. Holocrons were on full display, as were the guards looking ready to kill any of us for the slightest offense. It did not take me long to realize us acolytes split off into two different groups. One group was made up of humans and other races, expressions a mix of hardened, terrified, and full of anger. The other group also had humans, but their sole alien company were pureblood Sith. They all had smug, condescending looks with eyes like Shadow Stalker.

The former group were former slaves and other Force sensitives who had no choice but to become acolytes under duress of death. The second group were most likely members of Imperial nobility and whatnot.

Among the second group was the Sith accompanying Harkun. His eyes followed me like a hawk, lips curled into a fanged grin.

"Careful around that one. Bastard looks like he's got a real hair-trigger."

The one who spoke was a fellow acolyte among the former group. His eyes were cold, lips tinned and in a straight line. Cuts and gashes decorated his face like badges of honor.

"So does everyone else here," I replied cautiously.

He shook his head. "Not that one. I've seen my fair share of sadistic Purebloods, but that one… Something about that bastard gives me the creeps."

He had good instincts. He was right on all accounts; whoever that pureblood was, he knew not a hint of kindness or compassion. It was stamped out entirely. There was only a drive, an overwhelming power of ambition guiding his every step. He'd do whatever it took to do it, cut down any acolyte in his way and step over their corpses for good measure.

"You're one of the ones with Harkun, yeah?" I nodded. "The name's Vemrin. I'm with Darth Baras."

My eyebrow rose significantly. While the name Baras meant nothing to me, the title accompanying it said everything. A Darth was tantamount to being a lord, if not more.

"How is he compared to Harkun?" I asked out of curiosity. "Does he make it a point to remind you we're all more worthless than dirt and only good as fertilizer?"

Vemrin smirked. "Worse. He's still better than Harkun. A word of advice, from one survivor to another. While your Overseer likes to act tough, he'll fold like wet paper if somebody higher up on the food chain comes knocking at his front door. Earn Lord Zash's favor, and you might get rid of him quick."

"Awful nice of you."

"I like to think of myself as a betting man, so long as I know I'll win the bet," he said before walking away. "See you around, acolyte."

Vemrin… I'll have to remember that name.

I do not doubt what he said about Harkun. Even if the overseer was just blowing hot air, he did not earn his position by doing nothing, and his Force Lightning was a potent reminder that he was still Sith. I'd already made an enemy out of him already. There was no reason to make him even more cross with me.

My communicator started beeping. I took it out and answered it to find an automatic message from Harkun himself.

The second trial was about to begin.

A gnawing unease swelled in my stomach.

"No, no! I swear, I said nothing! AAAAAAGH!" Screams filled the air as lightning raged. The acolyte's body became no more than a lump of charcoal.

"Fuck… Another one…" I gritted my teeth, clawing at my temples.

These visions were always something of a frequent occurrence. They weren't rare, showing up three or four times a month, but they showed me enough to help understand what laid in store for me. The visions were fragmented, happening so quickly in the blink of an eye that I could barely make any sense of them. Sometimes they were clear, other times they lacked context and background. This vision in particular offered very little beyond the fact that someone was going to die.

Just like Kory.

Whoever this acolyte was, they were someone who needed help. But the question wasn't how I could help, it was whether I wanted to. I already showed weakness by saving Kory. If I helped the acolyte, prevented his death, would it ruin my chances? Would I be cut down for showing weakness?

I didn't know. I felt a pair of eyes burning holes in the back of my head. They belonged to neither acolyte nor Sith. Skitter's judgmental glare demanded answers I did not have.

I had a feeling I never would.

Thankfully, we didn't need to see Harkun this time around. Our trials were sent via message, all in colorful language I was accustomed to hearing. Evidently, Harkun writes as cruelly as he does speak.

Some acolytes were given the same tasks whereas others were given different orders. Mine was of the latter, and was particularly confusing. The task was simple in its writing: I was to speak with an Inquisitor by the name of Zyn and assist him. The first thought that came to mind was 'torture'. The Inquisitorius were the "black ops intelligence" of the Sith Empire, all Force-sensitives and dangerous with power said to be equal to the Darths. In other words, more people who could easily kill me if I pissed them off.

Having received my trial, I made my way for the jails where the Inquisitor awaited. I kept up my mental defenses, using the Force to survey my immediate surroundings. Even if blatant murder was not allowed, I would not put it past the "stupid" ones to try something. Unfortunately, using the Force gave me some…insight about my surroundings, reminding me how awful Korriban was. The academy itself was not much better than the planet it sat on. The hatred, the betrayal…

A familiar tinge stepped into my peripheral "vision". The pureblood Harkun brought in was coming toward me. I saw no ill-intentions, only smug superiority and disgust.

"If it isn't the upstart," the pureblood greeted with faux-cheer. "I'm surprised to see you walking up and about after the Overseer fried your flesh. I suppose you're tougher than you look."

"I would have to be to set foot on Korriban," I replied tersely. I felt several eyes watching us. Waiting for one of us to screw up. "I doubt you came here for small talk, however."

The Sith smiled. It reminded me of Coil. "Looks like you have a brain, Miralukan," he spat out my race's name like it was poison on his lips. "I am Ffon Althe. Successor and heir to the esteemed Althe legacy. My family has served the Empire faithfully for generations. I am what it means to be a true Sith. Unlike you."

Pompous, smug… Yep, definitely like Coil. Hopefully he doesn't have some bullshit thinker ability.

"I will crush you until your bones are no more than dust to join the sands outside," Ffon sneered. "The academy won't allow me to kill you. Not yet. Not here. But outside in the sands? In the tombs?" He chuckled and shook his head amusingly. "Well, that's a different story." He walked past, giving me another malicious leer. "Try not to die before I kill you, Miralukan."

I clicked my tongue in disdain, finding myself reminded of Sophia for a moment. What did it say about this place if it made me miss Winslow of all places?

I found Inquisitor Zyn in the torture chamber. A familiar-looking acolyte sat strapped to a metal slab, wrists and ankles bound in shackles, fear dripping from his being like a waterfall. Countering this was Zyn, who radiated malice like a bonfire. He was working at a console, but sensed me approaching well before I entered the room. He spoke without turning around, finding whatever he was doing at the console more important than to face and speak to me directly.

"Bitterness, repressed anger, a hint of compassion, but oh so very buried beneath feelings of betrayal," Zyn chuckled. "My dear, you are a cocktail. A refreshing breath of air. I enjoy the company of fellow Sith who enjoy…similar pastimes, but there's nothing quite like seeing someone dip their toes the first time." He stepped away and turned around, eyebrows rising in surprise. "Oh my, and a Miraluka at that. This just gets better and better, doesn't it?"

A surge of panic rushed through me. I expected a lightsaber to come down upon me and bring me death. Instead, I saw only amusement. He did not care what he found, only a mere curiosity.

I wasn't sure if that was a good thing.

"Lord Inquisitor," I greeted respectably. "I am acolyte Rezyl Vay. Overseer Harkun sent me to you to fulfill my second trial."

"Lord Zash told me to expect you," Zyn nodded. "I have to admit, I was quite surprised to hear one of our newest additions to the academy was Miralukan. We don't see much of your kind around here, but I digress. Do you know why you are here, acolyte?" I shook my head in the negative. "To put it simply, a heated rivalry between acolytes resulted in death. In other words, an "unauthorized murder". The acolyte over there—" he pointed to the poor clod on the slab. "—is the sole witness to the crime, but refuses to divulge the name of the murderer. While I'm more than capable of extracting the information myself, Harkun and Lord Zash believe an acolyte is better suited to the task."

Zyn looked at me with a wry grin. "In short, acolyte, your trial is to make this man give you the name of the murderer. Feel free to use whatever method you deem necessary. I should also mention that you will not be allowed to leave until either you've exceeded the lot of time required to complete the trial or obtained the information. Quite simple, no?"

I looked back at the acolyte, who glared in defiance. The fear in him intensified. In the far corner of the room, I saw Skitter sitting atop a metal slab opposite to the acolyte's, watching me expectantly. I swallowed a lump down my dry throat.

"Understood."

"Very good! You may begin whenever." With that, the Inquisitor returned to his prior work.

I approached the acolyte, clenching sweaty palms. His face was bruised, nose bent and a cut above his left eyebrow. Blood splatters and lashes decorated the side of his face. His right eye was blue and swollen. There were no obvious signs of torture, meaning the injuries I saw were not the work of someone before me, but most likely when he was brought in for questioning.

"I won't say a bloody thing," the acolyte said defiantly, each word driven by the instinct to survive. He feared the murderer more than the Inquisitor standing in the same room as him. "Do you hear me? I ain't no snitch."

I regarded him carefully. Torture would make his bravado crumble. A spark of lightning once or twice would do the trick. I didn't want to, of course. He was already marked for pain anyway. There was no need to make him suffer more than he would after our meeting is done and over with.

"What's your name?" I asked, deciding to play the "good cop".

The acolyte frowned. "What?"

"What's your name?" I asked again. "I'm Rezyl."

"…Alif," he said after a moment. "Look, Reyzl, whatever your game is, I'm not falling for it."

"Even if I'm your only way out?"

"What?"

I forced out a sigh and shook my head. "Look, Alif," I started. "I understand why you're scared. You're either a former slave, like me, or on the low totem pole compared to everyone else here at the academy. The person you're covering for is probably someone with influence. Maybe a pureblood Sith like Althe."

"I ain't saying anything!"

"And I get that. You want to live, and I can respect that…but do you really think you'll get that far?"

His fear spiked. "W-what do you mean?"

"I don't want to hurt you," I told him sincerely. "I would rather keep my hands clean if at all possible."

"Yeah, right," Alif scoffed. "No one's hands are clean in Korriban. You're either cracked, or you die. You don't get very far by being the nice guy."

"All the more reason for you to tell me who the murderer is. Look, right now, I'm your best shot at getting out of this alive, or at the very least living a while longer without looking like…"

I trailed off as realization dawned on me. I looked upon Alif in mounting horror. I knew who he was.

He was going to die. Either by my hand…or somebody else's.

"Without looking like what?" Alif asked, his voice growing a tad louder. "Is-is that suppose to scare me?"

I took a deep breath, calming myself. I had to remain calm. I had to think. "Alif, you have to trust me. Think about this for a moment. After all you've heard from me, you have to realize I don't mean you any harm. I'm the sort of person who will ask you to stop, think about what your doing, and ask you to reconsider. The person after me? They won't be. They will hurt you." Alif looked at me with wide-eyes. "They might cut you open, chop off an arm or leg, maybe a few fingers. They might rip out your eye. They might fry you with lightning. One way or another, they will make you talk."

"I…" I saw a whirlwind of emotions running around Alif's eyes, struggling with himself. There was despair, fear, but buried underneath it all…hope. Hope that, for the slightest chance, things would be better. Better than this. "He'll kill me."

"I won't let it happen." The words stumbled from my lips before I could clamp them shut. Those words were not mine, but another's. A girl from so long ago.

Alif stared at me, searching for something that resembled deceit. When he found none, his posture relaxed. "…you really are from the slave pens, aren't you? The others wouldn't…" He sighed and hung his head. "Fine, I'll-I'll tell you what I know, but you have to promise me something. You have to keep me safe. The murderer, his master, they're not just some run-of-the-mil Sith. They're a Dark Council member. The Inquisitors, the overseers, they won't do anything to him. His apprentice won't be punished. You have to keep me away from him." His tone grew pleading. "Please."

"…I'll do what I can." It was all I could offer. All I could do.

The murderer was Essor Kayin. Just as Alif said, his master was not some mere Sith. His master was not a Dark Lord, but a Darth. Worse still, they were none other than Darth Ravage, one of the highest authorities within the Galactic Empire, second to the Emperor himself.

It was as Alif claimed. Punishing Kayin was not going to happen, not without angering his master. Zyn seemed to be of the same mind, but declared I finished my trial all the same since my task was to learn the identity of the murderer. That should have been where things ended, but there was one other matter that needed to be attended. Even if Kayin escaped punishment, he wasn't going to take kindly to someone ratting him out and make him lose standing just for being "sloppy". He was going to kill Alif first chance he got.

To be honest, I'm not sure why I asked Zyn to do something. It was the stupidest thing I could have done. Showing such emotion, such compassion, in front of an Inquisitor was the same as welcoming Jack Slash into your apartment, knowing full well he would kill you first chance he got. I expected Zyn to either kill me or report me to the faculty, but he instead chose to humor my request and send Alif to join a Darth on Dromund Kaas, as a form of "protection".

I didn't understand why Zyn would agree to such a request, even if he told me such weakness was liable to get me killed. He, by all rights, should have killed me himself. Weed out the weak. It was not until I exited the torture chamber and made my way to Harkun's office that I realized why.

Entertainment.

His amusement at my being, knowing I had 'undesirable qualities' that were likely to have me killed while on Korriban, was entertainment to him. He wanted to watch me flounder, to see whether I would crumble and fail. I was nothing more than amusement. A game.

…how very Sith.

I made my return to Harkun's office. I was apparently the last to arrive, as Ffon and three other acolytes stood in front of the Overseer. Two of the acolytes, a pair of brothers, saw me approach and gave me a respectful nod. Ffon's smile was full of sharp teeth. Harkun glared at me with disdain, no doubt still remembering my defiance from the other day.

"And here I was, hoping you'd fail," he spat angrily. "No matter. Your numbers are dwindling as you can plainly see. Niloc has gone missing. I guess he realized he couldn't make the cut, but I won't be surprised if I learn he was found dead in the sands or caught trying to escape."

The burly acolyte next to me, who I recognized as the man who helped Kory bring me to my room after our first trial, grimaced and looked at the floor. Ffon merely scoffed with disinterest.

"Unsurprisingly," Harkun smirked in Ffon's direction. "Our rising star has passed his trial with flying colors. Make sure to burn the sight of a true Sith into your feeble brains, you wretches."

I held back my tongue. As much as I wanted to call him out on blatant favoritism, I knew I would accomplish nothing beyond another experience with Force lightning. I needed to remember how every move needed to be calculated and considered before putting them into action. Being careless and going in without a plan was liable to get you killed. Harkun had no problems getting rid of us. I wouldn't be surprised if he decided to arrange an "accident" for all of us just so Ffon could succeed.

"Now then," Harkun started again. "I've already given you your assignments for the week. You shall receive your next trials by the week's end. With the exception of the latecomer and Ffon, the rest of you may go."

The brothers and burly acolyte looked at me with some concern. The youngest brother looked as if he wished to say something to me, but the older brother grabbed his shoulder and shook his head. They left not long afterward, leaving me with the murderous pureblood and the asshole.

"You must feel awful proud of yourself," Harkun leered at me from behind his desk. "I'm told by Zyn you accomplished your trial without much trouble. Honestly, I'm of the mind he helped you somehow, but Lord Zash has accepted the results. I wouldn't let it get to your head, however. Compared to Ffon, you're still guttertrash and a miserable pile of flesh."

"Why not just kill her now and be done with it?" Ffon asked as he turned to me, reaching for the weapon on his hip. There was no blade or edge, merely a handle. I recognized it, having seen similar weapons before. A lightsaber. "It won't be as if anyone will miss her."

Harkun shook his head. "Patience, Ffon. You'll have your chance." The pureblood Sith stared me down a while longer, seemingly about to disobey Harkun's orders, but ultimately relented and released his hold on his weapon. The overseer huffed and leaned back in his chair. "I've sent the details of your assignment to your devices. This should go without saying, slave, but failure to complete them shall result in expulsion. In other words, you die. I don't expect quality work from you, however. You can leave now."

"Careful on your way back to the dorms, Miraluka," Ffon jeered behind me as I left.

Never before had I wished I could go full Carrie on these bastards…

When I returned to my dorm room, I found a visitor waiting for me. "Kory?"

"Sorry," the former acolyte apologized. "I didn't mean to drop by unannounced."

"You shouldn't even be here. What if someone saw you?!"

"It's fine," Kory insisted, much to my disbelief. "I'm…actually here on Master Spindrall's orders. He told me to give you this."

Kory grabbed the old beaten leathery tome from my bed and held it out to me. I looked at her warily, then at the book, cautiously taking it from her. Its bindings wore thin, the pages crinkled and slowly falling apart. It was very old, but it carried with it a myriad of emotions and thoughts. Its owner cherished it, considered it a token of knowledge of which he studied relentlessly.

"Galactic History Vol. XIII," I read aloud. "By Gnost-Dural?"

"A Jedi Master and historian from what I've heard," Kory told me, much to my surprise. It must have showed on my face because she smiled. "It surprised me as well. Whoever heard of a Sith reading something written by a Jedi of all people?"

"And Spindrall asked you to give this to me?"

"He said you might find it insightful," she explained. "I don't really quite understand what he meant, but far be it for me to question him. After all, I'm not really an acolyte anymore."

I glanced at the book in my hand, scrutinizing it. Although I wasn't sure how the academy faculty might view me reading something written by a Jedi, I was not going to take the risk. I would have to find a suitable hiding place lest an acolyte accuse me of owning "forbidden contraband". For the time being, I set the book aside and turned my attention to Kory. A soft colorless hue surrounded her. It felt subdued, smothered almost. Before, she radiated a sense of gentle purity.

Only a day or so had passed since we last saw each other. Honestly, to see her alive and well was surprising. Even if she was under Spindrall's protection, Korriban was not kind, nor was its inhabitants. It demanded we be survivors, willing to do whatever it took to get ahead in the journey to become Sith. Kory was soft, compassionate, kind. Those qualities made her prey to everyone else. She would not last long here.

Was the point of saving her, if she was going to die anyway? Wouldn't it have been better for her to die at Harkun's hands, to spare her further pain?

"You mean like you did with Aster?" Skitter growled behind me.

My fingers clenched, curling into my palms.

"Is…something wrong, Reyzl?" Kory asked worriedly.

I take a moment to calm my emotions. I couldn't leave myself vulnerable. Not…not here. Not in front of her. "I'm fine," I bit out through clenched teeth. "Was that all?"

"Actually, I… I wanted to thank you. Properly. You saved my life, even though you shouldn't have." Kory wrung her hands and looked down at the floor in shame. "I know I'm not cut out to be Sith, that I'm just a liability compared to everyone else. If I had any other choice, I would leave Korriban."

I nodded in understanding. "But we can't. The moment we set foot in this accursed place, we have only two options."

"Become Sith, or die," Kory smiled mirthlessly. "I'm lucky to still be alive, all things considered. To even be here in Korriban. They tell us horror stories in the slave pens, you know. About the wildlife here. The ghosts." She glanced over my shoulder, as if seeing some shadowy figure leering at her. "The Sith themselves…"

I said nothing. She spoke of things I already knew.

"Picking a fight with the Overseers is like begging for trouble," she continued with a shaky breath. She finally looked up; her smile somewhat forced. She was struggling to keep up her expression, to fight the cold murky feelings choking the life out of her. "I wish I had a tenth of your courage, Reyzl."

"I didn't save you out of—"

She cut me off. "I know. People don't do nice things without reason. Whatever reasons you had, I swear, I will live up to them. I'll repay my debt to you, one way or another."

"…see that you do."

Kory's smile grew smaller. "Of course, my lady." I winced, taken aback by the sudden formal address. She gave one last 'thanks' and left. I felt her presence disappear into the violent storm of anger and death around me. I stared at the spot where she stood.

My fingers curled against my chest. I wondered what this meant for me. Was Kory going to be a worthwhile ally? A potential resource to cultivate? Or would she simply join the rest of the dead here on this fucking planet? Deep down, a small part of me cheered for her, begged her to continue living. I realized then it was the part of me that defended her from Harkun.

I looked at Skitter, who in turn glared back venomously. "Hypocrite," she called me.

"…maybe," I admitted. "But weren't we always?"

NOTE: This chapter was posted on Sufficient Velocity on May 3, 2023. Sorry for the late update, everyone!

Originally, I was going to post this on May 4 since, you know, "May the Fourth be with you" and all that shit. As promised, I would update Perdition. And I have delivered. Where it's actually any good is for you guys to decide. It's not very action packed, and is more of a character interaction and glimpse that, somewhere in there, Taylor's still that fifteen-year-old girl from Brockton Bay.

Let me just say, however, that writing Sith!Taylor is freaking hard as balls, especially when you dump her in a situation where she has to act like a douche just to survive in a rotten hellhole where the better douches are always a step ahead of her. In hindsight, I should have gone for a rogue Jedi-esque Taylor story, but to be honest, it sounded all kinds of boring to me. That, and I'm hesitant to dip my toes into the 'Gray Jedi' territory when people are skeptical and harshly critical of such a concept, and for good reason given how Gray Jedi fanfics seem to steer towards "Gary Stu" territory. Not to mention the debate as to what exactly constitutes as a "Gray Jedi" in the first place, but that is a can of worms I dare not open.

Anyway, my next update will be Invincible Girl of Another World.

As for the usual shill, if you wanna help support me financially and want to read something of mine, please consider buying Chase Ryder and the City of Lost Memories on Amazon, my first original novel. Alternatively, and it pains me to say this, I have a (Pa)treon account. I have nothing up on there yet, but if you want to support me, it's there and it would help pay for the groceries. Just nothing too crazy, please? I'll happily settle for getting only one or two dollars. I may be desperate, but I ain't that desperate!