Even in the throes of her dreams, Cinder felt the dampness of her sweat. Like the shadowy tendrils of her nightmares, it stung at her stubbornly, clinging to her flesh among the rows of goose pimples that cropped up in fleshy mountains. Two beings haunted her dreams night after night. They alternated their assaults, never appearing together. One was a boy, a youth no more than thirteen, lost and bewildered in a vast dune of golden dirt and scrap. He would cling to the hem of her robes as if he was scared to let go. A small part of her rejoiced at that; the rest detested his perceived dependency. Then, he would disappear into the wind, and her dreams filled with tears. Such was the pain of loss.

The other wraith was a woman, brunette and fair-skinned, always playing the part of the lover. In her dreams, she no longer wore that silly Sith moniker. She was once again Lysara Synder, Jedi Knight, and once more she was able to confide in Leide Pall. It was saccharine to the point of nausea; she often found herself swallowing vomit the mornings after each reminder of a past that never had been. Or was it a future that could never be? It did not matter, as the outcome would always be the same.

The dreams often brought her back to the gilded pillars of the Jedi Temple, to its terraces or its dormitories. They were always nebulous in her mind's eye, shrouded in an endless mist. This instance, however, took her to Coruscant's smoky, neon-kissed underbelly. Cinder would never have gone there willingly, but the wraith clasped her hand in hers and she reluctantly obeyed, entering a set of sliding shadowglass doors beneath a wiry sign in Aurebesh. The Verpine Roost was what the colorful letters read from on high.

The two walked hand-in-hand to the bar. The stools were hard and wiry, clearly designed for patrons with a different sort of posterior. Ironically, she spied only one Verpine despite the dive's namesake. The bipedal bug stood bowlegged at a cylindrical table, orange light spewing around his legs in rays from slits in the stand. He mingled with a pair of veiled women, passing around a crooked pipe and laughing about who-knew-what. She felt a tap on her shoulder. The wraith was fleshy now, no longer an approximation. Cinder found herself wondering when the nightmare would start. It always did.

"I find myself coming down here more and more," Leide said after Cinder finally turned her way. This was the woman Cinder knew, high-crested cheekbones, dimples, full-lipped and all, not the withered consular she had cut down on Korriban. She looked down at her own hands and saw only sunken bones and callused skin. Her fingers were still ringed with crimson gashes where the molten remnants of Mandalore's shrapnel had fallen from her blade. I'm lost in time, Cinder tried to say, though she found she could not speak.

"Why's that?" She did not say those words and yet they came out nonetheless. She steeled herself to ride out this reprisal. "I couldn't picture you lost in the bottle."

That made Leide snort and burst into laughter. "Of course not," she said with a playful shove. "I just need to take the stress off of Master Horace's lectures."

"Too hard?" The bartender handed Cinder a glass of dark red and she sipped at it. "Difficulty never bothered you before." A wry smile cut across her face. "I do recall I was so lavishly rewarded for playing hard to get."

"The lectures are child's play." Leide's cheeks flushed like roses. "And more and more are they turning into meandering rambling when he decides to give them." The bartender set a pint of Corellian stout in front of her, but Leide ignored it. "He spends all our time together griping about your master."

"Well, I'm sure he would like to be made aware of any potential rifts between the council and himself." Cinder found herself cringing. She had been so eager to please then, but she supposed Ruin had that effect on a great many people. How woefully far he has fallen since, she thought.

"No, no. Do not tell him. The council fears what will happen if he-"

"I'm sure he doesn't care." Cinder took a ponderous sip at her glass and looked over at Leide's. "You didn't waste credits on that to let it sit there, did you?"

Leide responded by taking the glass in her hand and downing it quickly. "Happy now?" The bartender walked over to refill it almost at once.

"My master's tension with the council stems from a fundamental disagreement in philosophy," Cinder said. "That's how he tells it, anyhow. What does Master Horace have to say? He will not speak to me. He only gives me that ugly glare of his when I pass and smile. I wonder if he knows."

"Don't say that, Lysara." Leide took a sip of her freshly-filled cup and placed a hand atop Cinder's. "No one can know. We'll be exiled."

"Then tell me."

"The council is thinking of giving him an ultimatum. Master Horace thinks this is dishonorable, that it's not the Jedi way."

"He'd be correct."

"Don't interrupt me." Leide took another sip. "He rues that Master Phanius has set the council against him so, that he has made them even consider going to such lengths to be rid of him."

"Shouldn't they be more willing to tolerate other outlooks on the Force, so long as they fit within the Jedi Code?"

"The code does not permit selfishness." Leide finished the rest of her second glass and beckoned the bartender over. Again, he refilled it. "Do you forget that?"

"We are the guardians of civilization. We do what we must to protect everyone. Did you forget that?"

"Are you telling me the ends justify the means? Perhaps he has his talons buried deeper in you than I thought."

"What's that supposed to mean? I don't echo his sentiments. He believes he is the center of the galaxy, that all exists only in his orbit." Cinder felt a radiating heat, though she could not truly feel the anger of this past self of hers. Even back then I seemed to understand. Why did I deny it for so long? "Nonetheless, if his solipsism allows him to better protect the weak and rallies more Jedi to the order, who are we to question him?"

"It is not us, it is the council," Leide reminded her sharply. Her voice was rising. "They are our leaders, and for better or worse, their ways are law."

"Their ways are old." Cinder felt her own voice rise as well. "Have you seen the sorry state of our Republic? Perhaps it is time we tried something new."

"This is nonsense." Leide swallowed down the next glass and pawed at her forehead. She looked almost faint, though Cinder knew that wasn't the liquor's doing. "We are Jedi Knights, yes, but who are we to question the grandmasters?"

"We have been blessed with the ability to control the Force. Lesser beings than us question their elders." Cinder finished the last of her red and pushed the glass away, waving the bartender aside when he walked over. "Don't tell me you're afraid of the Jedi Council?"

"I will be on that council one day, Lysara." Her voice quivered. "I cannot mess things up before that happens."

"You still want that?" Cinder was unimpressed, even still. It seems we both chose poorly, dear. "Why? Why not come with me when I reclaim my home and my birthright and rule by my side?"

"My place is here, that's what... that's what my master says." Cinder saw the faintest silver slivers of tears well up in Leide's eyes. "He says he doesn't have a lot of time left. Pushing out Phanius might even speed things along. Those were his words. I worry for him."

"He'd tell you not to be attached," Cinder said bitterly.

"Lysara Synder, talking of attachment." She let out a single laugh. "The Force has truly withered and died."

"It was you who came to me, lest we forget." Cinder smiled, ignoring the look of crossed daggers Leide gave her. She kicked her legs back and forth. "Your want. Mine as well, to be sure, but yours was the catalyst for this forbidden love."

"I love you, truly," Leide said through sniffles as she wiped away her tears. "I do, I do, I do. But tell me, my Lady of Synder, what will you do if Phanius leaves? If he does as Master Horace expects?"

Cinder recoiled at the answer her past self was about to provide. "I am sworn to him, yes." She wrapped an arm around Leide's back and hugged her close. "But I am sworn to the Jedi Order first and foremost." She chuckled. "In theory, anyway. In practice, I am sworn to you." It wasn't a lie then, or even the last time she and Leide met in between the rows of pillars in the temple courtyard, but she went with Ruin all the same. Why did I do it?

The rest of the dream matched up with Cinder's memory. They kissed, long and passionate. Cinder purchased a bottle of some red Corellian vintage. Leide rose before she did. The way she remembered it, Leide immediately keeled over and retched all over the reflective floor. Dread numbed her now. This time, she watched the other woman take step after staggered step before finally her torso toppled from her body in a shower of bile and blood. A lone gutrope stretched long and taut from her stumbling legs as her upper body pounded the floor, splashing giblets and ichor in all directions.

Cinder's eyes flashed open and wrenched herself from the bed. She was so caked in sweat that she thought herself stuck, that her flesh would scourge itself if she moved too fast. She reeked of salt, blood, and fear. At once, her eyes landed on Bestia, who stood far away on the opposite end of her chambers. She was holding herself against a red-painted, plasteel wardrobe, pressed so hard against it she looked almost flat.

"Lady Cinder, you're awake." Bestia sighed in relief, then stepped towards her. "I was worried you wouldn't recover. You took a fever in the jungle. Your apprentice came and secured Mandalore's head and his accouterments. We're en route to Nar Shaddaa-"

Cinder flung herself upright at once and bounded towards Bestia. She felt her robes stick to her flesh, linen mingling with perspiration old and new. Soon enough her lightsaber was in her hand, the orange blade humming to life, and she swung with all her might.

Bestia caught it in her own. Sheer horror crept across her face as her dark green skin went pale and minty. The blades crackled as their energies coursed together, one fighting for dominance over the other even as their wielders did not move.

Cinder did not move her blade. She bit her lip so hard she tasted blood, and began to push forward against Bestia's blade. She dug her heels into the gunmetal floor as she inched the crimson blade closer and closer to Bestia's face. "It's me, Mira, dammit!"

The name fell against Cinder's ears and she recoiled at once, bringing her blade black towards her. She kept it ignited and cut through the air between them. "I called you something I should not have," Cinder said, pointing her lightsaber towards Bestia. The tip of the blade came right underneath her chin. "I'm not in the business of sharing secrets."

"Did you forget I have already shared mine with you?" Bestia's eyes narrowed as they looked down at the point of the blade. She still clutched her own, though it hung limp at her side. "I trusted you enough to share mine, Lady Cinder, please trust me enough to keep yours."

"I cannot." Cinder winced and brought the blade away. "Some things must be brought to the grave and the grave alone."

"Lady Cinder-"

"Lysara, damn you. If you know, you might as well know the whole of it." She switched her saber off and flung the hilt at the far wall where it clattered to the floor with a ring. She watched Bestia stiffen up and deactivate her own saber before sinking to the ground with a sigh.

"I- I did not mean to intrude. I came here to meditate until you woke. Your apprentice did not want me in his quarters-"

"Hush," Cinder said. She stooped down to Bestia's level, then sat cross-legged in front of her. "I was heiress to my family's county on Fassa, but when they found out I was able to manipulate the Force, they called for the Jedi to come and take me.

"I met a woman at their temple – well, a girl at the time, as we both were. Against the tenets of the order, we loved one another. Deeply. Thorns and all." Cinder sighed and swallowed hard. "I killed her on Korriban. My hand was forced."

Bestia said nothing, looking at her with big, empty eyes. Her mouth moved and quivered, attempting to find something, anything to say, but the words would not come.

"Listen to my lies," Cinder spat. "It was punishment. Retribution from the Force itself. Battle madness. I lied to her, you see. I told her I would never leave her, and yet I did."

"I've lied much the same before, Lady- Lysara," Bestia said, her eyes bouncing back and forth between Cinder and the floor. "It's nothing to be ashamed of. We do what we must to survive."

"This was not for survival. I was lured away." That was only half-true and she knew it. "I've told you enough about me. Let me tell you more about our Dark Lord."

Bestia glowered at her, but said nothing.

"I have not left Ruin's side since I was a young girl," Cinder said. "He trained me in the Jedi arts. Back then, he was Phanius, a great and powerful Jedi Master who provoked ire and scorn wherever he went. I was his one and only apprentice. In spite of all my oaths, all my promises, I followed him when they sent him away. He became Darth Ruin on the trip to Korriban and changed irreversibly."

"So he was always mad, then."

"No, not always," Cinder said. Had he been? He had never seemed so; the change had been gradual from Cinder's point of view. It was not until they encountered Hopel's lost tribe on Yavin IV that Ruin took his first steps into the mire that had all but consumed him now. "He was strange, unapproachable, unorthodox, set in his ways, yes. Never mad, not until well into his reign."

"Is that the reason you won't let me kill him myself?" Bestia's brow furrowed. "You want your own revenge?"

"One small way to atone for sins," Cinder muttered with a smile. "A threefold solution, in truth. The Sith get a more suitable leader, Ruin pays for his crimes, and I can reap some justice for my own."

"What about the woman? What was she like?"

She could tell Bestia cared little for lectures on philosophy or the "why" of things. "She was a lot like you." She saw the Mirialan perk up at that. "Headstrong, willful, capable. Powerful and assertive when she needed to be." Cinder cracked a smile. "Though she was a human."

Bestia huffed. "I figured."

"I didn't mean it like that."

"Of course not." Bestia moved towards her on her knees. "Maybe I could cure your bad dreams?" She lifted a finger to Cinder's chin.

"I would like that." Cinder closed her eyes. I would like that so very much. She was ready to give in to bliss, but then her mind stopped in its tracks. Her bliss turned to panic. "I cannot." When Bestia wrapped her arm around her shoulder, Cinder shrugged free. "My heart still beats for her and her alone. I cannot, Mira. I cannot."

"I thought maybe..." Bestia trailed off as her head slumped forward. When she raised it up again, she was crying. "What am I saying? No, of course not. I'm sorry, Lady Cinder."

Is there even a Sith left in me? I should strike her down for being so miserable. Those thoughts were fleeting and she shook them off with ease. Instead, she embraced Bestia in a hug.

"How we would so like to seal promises with a kiss," Cinder said softly. "I cannot do it again, but I can offer you my word. Your feelings, secrets, warts and all, they are all safe with me."

Bestia only whimpered and sniffled in response. She laid her head down on Cinder's shoulder. Several minutes passed before she said, "And yours are safe with me. Will we take him together?"

I can offer no promises. "We will do things the way we must."

They sat there for a long time, cradled in each other's arms.