Fell sifted aimlessly through the rotted books at the end of the hall. The ones that did not turn to dust the moment his fingers grazed them fell apart like moldy leather sandwiches in his clumsy grasp. Cinder was on the other side of the library, doubtless entranced in a more careful method of search.

This is fools' work, he thought as another mottled tome crumbled in his palms. He brushed the dust off on the hems of his robe and leaned back against a bookshelf. They were all around him, books and shelves in all directions except to his left, where the long wooden walkway led back to the stairwell that would put him back in the great, moss-ridden atrium. He found precious little of use here. Dust and ash were the fruits of his labor. How fitting was it indeed that his master Cinder sent him to sift through nothing more than a pile of ash.

He always thought his master's methods queer, especially of late, but he did not resent her. Fell knew damn well she could have ended his miserable life in the Valley of the Dark Lords. And it was just as easy she could have left him to labor on Ord Mantell, in the hands of that loathsome shipwright and beleaguered by the scum of the earth, for the rest of his miserable days. Both times, she spared him. Both times, she made him stronger. Was it worth seizing his "rightful" place by killing her?

A tiny glint caught his eye and broke his train of thought. He lost it for a moment, and then it glimmered again, visible through a pinhole in a squat pile of ancient books. Fell stooped down and tossed them all aside, some disintegrating as they smacked the floor. Cinder would have chided him as the books flew about; he took respite in the fact she couldn't now. He grabbed the glinting thing between his fingers and raised it up to one eye. It was a jagged thing, clear and translucent.

"I'll be damned," he muttered low. He placed it into his other hand's open palm, feeling it over and rotating it with his thumb."Where there is one, there must be others," is what Cinder had taught him long ago, and it what true more oft than not. Yet here, amidst the ruins of ancient literature, shafts of midday light, and floating locusts of dust, he could find no more. He lowered himself to the ground, his stomach against the wooden boards and thin splinters catching in his cloth and linen, and looked over where the crystal had been. Nothing. Fell sighed in resignation as he got back to his feet. He reached his hand inside his robe and produced a burled leather pouch from an interior pocket, placing the crystal gently within.

A noise vibrated off of the limestone ceiling above him, click-clack, click-clack. It caught him off guard, but it did not faze him.

I am Darth Fell, a Lord of the Sith. I fear nothing.

When it happened again, with greater intensity, no false confidence could ease his nerves.

"Master!" Fell called out for her, but got nothing. He started down the walkway, walking towards the stairs, heart pounding. He never once took his eyes off the ceiling.

"Sith do not run, for we have nothing to fear," was another adage of Cinder's from his training. Yet last they had been here on Ossus, they had not braved the library out of fear the Ysanna. "There is nothing to fear but the unknown," he remembered from another lecture. Now the unknown was closing fast upon him, and he did not care for it one bit.

He kept walking, calm as he could, across the atrium to the other set of stairs. The wretched click-clack was all around him now, like the chiseling of stone, as if the roof would crumble down and crush him at any moment. He took the steps on the other side two at a time, calling for Cinder again as he climbed every two sets.

Has she left me here to die? Is this my test?

Now he stood on a walkway identical to the one he had been on before, only the books lining the shelves here had not been destroyed by wanton carelessness. Fek the books. He called for her again before his eyes caught the red glint at the end of the hall, the lone light in the middle of a three-walled snare of bookcases. It vanished almost as soon as he set eyes upon it. It was as if something were trying to lure him. He had no choice but to take the bait.

He found his master slumped over, a pyramid box just inches away from her outstretched fingers. He knew not what it was, but it bore ancient inscriptions all about it. For a moment he regret letting Cinder's lectures about the ancient Sith orders go in one ear and out the other. He stooped down and leveled two fingers at Cinder's neck. Not dead.

As much as he wanted to run her through, he remembered she had burned both their lightsabers the night before. She had smiled at how appalled he had been as he watched his saber spark in those flames. The crystal within drank them up, gluttonous, until it burst. He contemplated leaving her there.

She's all you have. If you leave her here to die, you'll be trapped here. You and that rustbucket that fancies itself an assassin.

Fell sighed and grabbed the box first, fumbling to get it to fit into one of his larger pockets. Then, he stooped, wrapped his arms around Cinder's body, and slung her over his shoulders. Light and thin as she was, it still strained him so. How am I to get out of this place with a woman on my back? It tempted him to leave her there. No one could ever fault him, not even the droid, who would doubtless remind him that only the strong survive, with some redundant qualifier appended to the start. It had been the way of life on Ord Mantell and Cinder had driven the point home when she brought him here before. "In our order, we are ruled by the strong. When one day you feel yourself able to overpower me, or deem me to be weak, then you shall take my place. That goes for all of us - even you, boy, so guard yourself well." But she is all you have, you bastard. Take her or you'll never forgive yourself. Fell grumbled and carried her down towards the steps where they had entered.

In an instant, he heard a clack on the stone floor behind him. The next few rang out and echoed. He did not dare look back, and ran fast as he could down the hall towards that ancient portcullis. Chants in some alien tongue he did not recognize called out behind him, the twisted cacophony of a legion of voices. His feet landed on the edge of the steps but he found himself unable to push forward.

Why am I stopping? His mind raced, roaring, screaming at him. The enemy behind him was bounding closer and closer. Yet here he was, trapped on the edge of the great stair leading down to the wasteland of burnt forest below, a woman strung across his back and paralyzed with fear.

Maybe I should have left her? What if I throw her down? Then at least she dies with some honor, putting up a noble fight-

Cinder's groggy voice snapped him back to reality.

"Now..." she slurred, before her head slumped against his back once again. He did not hesitate. Down he went.

The steep incline slowed him, as did his own fear. The holes in the stones had been so obvious on the route up; now they threatened to trip him and kill apprentice and master alike if he misstepped. He shot a glance behind him and he recovered when his boot almost snagged a ball-sized crater in the stair. There were twelve of them, Ysanna in ornate masks decorated with bright pigments, spears thrust aloft in their hands. They prowled slow behind him. A few were even still, the shafts of their spears taut against the limestone. It was a show, nothing more. They were toying with him.

Fell felt Cinder's hair brush against him as she stirred again.

"You stirred the Ysanna?" she grumbled. "How did this happen?"

"No, master, I did nothing, they fell upon us." He had no time for this argument. At any moment, a single spear-throw could impale them both.

She wiggled her fingers, as if to see if they were still there. "I'm sure you realize they're not trying to kill you? Else they'd done so already."

"Sure, sure. Look, in case you can't tell from your position on my shoulders, I'm saving your life."

"Yes," she said, as if rethinking her approach. "I believe you are."

"So, can we save the lecture-"

"No." She was curt. "As I said, if they were out for blood, they would have loosed their spears already. They're trying to rout us."

Fell shook his head. "Well they did a damn good job of that."

Cinder's brow furrowed. "They want something back. What did you take?"

He stopped in his tracks for a moment, panting, and looked up behind him. Now all twelve Ysanna were standing still. Though now, they had all their spears held up in both hands, their heads pointing downwards and leveled at his chest.

"Why does it matter?" He lowered her off of his back, and he breathed easy once more. He watched Cinder rub her eyes, get to her feet, and dust off her robes.

"Give me the holocron." Cinder stretched out her palm.

"So that's what it is?" He glanced up at the Ysanna, then back to Cinder. When her eyes turned to daggers, he reluctantly obeyed. When he pulled the holocron from his pocket, the Ysanna hooted in their strange tongue, raising their spears above their heads and their heads to the sky. Under the masks, giant scarves were wrapped tight and heavy, concealing their necks completely as they flapped loosely in the wind.

Cinder raised the holocron above her head. The sun caught it and turned it a shimmering bright red. Then she shouted, "We are taking this with us, and that is all we take. We leave in peace."

The Ysanna looked down from their perch above. Some cocked their heads one way or the other. Others spoke in hushed tones amongst themselves. When one loosed a spear, it was clear they did not understand.

Cinder took one hand off the holocron and caught the spear in a Force grip. Her face tightened into a grimace, and she seemed to struggle against it. Fell looked away from her and back to the Ysanna, finding the one who threw the javelin. His odd gesticulations made no sense to him at first.

By the time it clicked, another spear was loosed. Fell caught this one himself, ensnaring it in the Force with both his arms outstretched. He strained, every muscle in his face and hands tightening as he fought to keep himself from being impaled. It felt as if lightning went off in his head, and he couldn't tell what happened. He blinked, and when his eyes reopened, the spear he had trapped was gone. His eyes were drawn to the wooden shaft. It had gone back up the stairs, its head buried deep in the crumpled body of an Ysanna warrior. His clansmen inspected the body; some poked at it with the butts of their own spears.

Half of the spear that Cinder had been holding aloft lie before them, in the crook of the stair. Fell heard the other end clatter as it rolled down the steps. He looked up again and saw the Ysanna back off. Never once did they turn away from the Sith. Fell felt their angry eyes behind those unsettling masks.

He exhaled hard, and Cinder clapped him on the shoulder.

"Well done." She gave him a wry smile. "You killed one. Pray we don't have to kill more before we go." With that, she turned and started down the stairs. He stood there stupidly, watching her go with his mouth agape until she asked him if he was going to come with her. Only then did he follow.