"This prophecy, Master, what does it mean," a sixteen-year-old Winter turned to her Trogrutan superior as they walked alone in the Temple gardens.

"Which one, Winter," Shaak-ti questioned.

"She who will be born to darkness...And then it says, will give birth to darkness," the young Padawan repeated verbatim,"I don't understand the meaning of it. How could one be 'born to darkness'? Are we not all children of the Force? Wouldn't that suggest an imbalance within the Jedi themselves," Winter Vance studied the archive thoughtfully with her brilliant, green eyes.

Shaak-ti curved one side of her pale, white lips into a smile; her young Padawan was inquisitive this morning. She wanted to give her a satisfying answer, but she wasn't all-knowing and didn't want her naive Padawan to surmise that she knew better than the rest of the Council. The Jedi Council had numerous prophetic accounts they were attempting to unscramble, this being one of the less pressing. They were far more inclined to meditate on the importance of the Chosen One, whom they had unanimously come to accept was, in fact, Anakin Skywalker. Through him, balance to the Force would be achieved.

The prophecy in question was not one Winter needed to concern herself with. Shaak-ti admired her curiosity, but to lose oneself within the archives was not a good and balanced use of one's time and energy, especially when events around them were escalating. The galaxy was being shaken. Winter needed to prepare herself for what was coming, and, perhaps, Shaak-ti could even protect her from it.

The older, wiser trogrutan Jedi placed her soft, tattooed hand upon her student's unassuming shoulder. Her dark yet kind eyes reassured the youth of her Master's support.

"In time, Winter, the Force reveals all. For now, let us busy ourselves in other matters. I do believe you wanted to learn more about them Makashi form today. You expressed great interest in it not too long ago. Though you may not fully be prepared to execute such an advanced form, at least we can go over the basics," Shaak-ti explained as she ushered her Padawan in the direction of the training grounds.

Winter's eyes grew wide and bright with anticipation; she had always wanted to learn the form her Master used. It was truly an honor for Shaak-ti to even suggest it, with how inexperienced Winter was with her own dual lightsabers. But she was determined to learn and learn fast. She didn't want the other Padawans to leave her in their dust!

"The form, Makashi, doesn't it focus less on strength and more on grace, even agility," Winter asked inquisitively.

"Yes, indeed. It is a wise choice when fighting an opponent who outweighs you. In your case, my small Padawan, I believe this to be the best form for you to master. In time, you may even develop your own version to better suit your unique strengths," her Master assured her.

Winter nodded excitedly. And then, just as soon as it appeared, the dream vanished, becoming nothing more but a phantom memory.

--

"Listen close, girl. As I have said before, I will say again: you are DISPOSABLE. I will not tolerate rebellion from you and you WILL watch your tongue. Do you understand," Grievous' strong, raspy voice bellowed against the chamber walls and beat itself into Winter's very core.

She feared him, yes. There was much to be afraid of. But she had ultimately reached a point in her existence that she no longer worried about the penalty of pain, even death. She had thought out the few options she really had: she could try to escape again, hide with the hopes of being rescued, give in to his demands, or die a horribly painful death, as he had previously revealed. Without Count Dooku to reel him back, General Grievous was without boundaries, without restraint. What little she knew of Dooku told her he had held a measure of morality, morality taught him by the Jedi Code. Though ultimately he did lose his way, Dooku still, even at his death, held onto his morality. She had hoped that some of the good within Dooku had penetrated the hard, durasteel core of his pupil. It would, however, seem otherwise.

This monster, this creature of hate, was beyond saving. He chose his path. He became what he wanted to become. And now, Winter had that same choice to make. Her Master had always taught her to see the good but be cautious of the evil that lurked in the shadows, lest it pulled her away from the safety of the Force. Here, within the fortress, there were only shadows. There literally was not a single window even to see the outside. Winter didn't even know what planet or system this was. That's the way Grievous wanted it. He needed her to feel isolated and alone and out of reach of the Force itself; he was succeeding brilliantly.

"I understand," Winter started.

"Good. At last you have finally come to your senses," Grievous smirked within himself.

"But, I must say this," she continued calmly, numbly, "you will NEVER earn my respect. You have done something unspeakable to someone undeserving of it, and for what? To you, I'm sure it makes sense, in your twisted mind! And now you're doing it alone; your Master is gone, as is mine. This Darth Sidious is distant. I doubt he cares a lick about you. But yes, I give up and I give in. Your wish is my command, as I have, at this point, lost every ounce of being I once had," Winter took a deep breath,"...And for that, I thank you, my General," she dropped to one knee as she finished, relieved to finally achieve peace.

At the start of her speech, anger had flared up within him, enough to rip her limb from limb, but against his better judgement, he simply listened. His eyes showed not a bit of emotion; they stared with focused intensity. Winter's head was bowed low submissively, so she didn't notice as he quietly rose from his seat and, with a seamless kind of grace that was not usual for him, proceeded to the chamber doors. As he was about to exit, Grievous cocked his head in her direction and sighed deeply.

"This way," were his only words.

Winter was awestruck. This behavior- it was truly unusual. She was half expecting him to strike her down in that very instant. She had come to peace with death, but when it did not come, she was perplexed. Her first instinct told her to stay put, to not follow as he had beckoned. But she was curious. Where did he intend to lead her? Where, in all this Force-forsaken pit, could be worth going? There was little time for contemplation as Grievous disappeared into the hallway outside.