Prologue
Once upon a time, in a galaxy far, far away, there was a magical realm Mortis ruled by a tired, but wise widowed Father who had one Son and one Daughter. The children fought tirelessly as they grew to maturity, with the Father imposing an uneasy, volatile truce between them. It was in the Daughter's nature to be kind but too trusting. Sometimes foolish and righteous. It was in the Son's nature to be impatient and overbearing. Often violent and usually deceptive. The Daughter was the embodiment of the Light and the Son was Darkness incarnate, and there was little peace between them.
The two children squabbled again and again, goading the Father to step in and settle matters. He was a buffer between them, keeping things roughly equal. Until one day when, frustrated with being held back, the Son rose up against the Father to supplant him. He would undo the balance and subdue the Daughter once and for all. But the frantic Daughter threw herself between the two fighting men whom she both loved, losing her life to save the patriarch. Sadly, the Daughter became one with the Force.
The all-knowing, all-seeing Force took pity on the Daughter, her life cut short and the Light Side dimmed in her impulse to self-sacrifice. It also heard the anguish of the repentant Son who instantly regretted his deed, for he truly loved his troublesome sister. The Dark Side always will admire the Light, though few are perceptive enough to realize it. Just like the Light ever will bait the Dark Side, the Light being far less innocent than it pretends. And so, the Force in its infinite mercy resurrected the Daughter to a new life. Only this time, she was not a celestial being archetype. She was a mortal woman in all ways, richly endowed with the Force.
The Daughter set out to make her own community that rejected the constraints of her father figure and her brother killer. With her followers, she created a society where women were safe from the inborn aggression and incessant competition of men. Where women could be authority figures in their own right, no longer consigned to power-adjacent roles of faithful wives, helpful sisters, and dutiful daughters. When it came to the Force, the Daughter eschewed the conflict of Light versus Dark that had gotten her killed. Instead, she concerned herself with the origin of the Force itself—with life. For only women can create new life. The Daughter began to venerate all things sacred and powerful that are female.
The Daughter passed on her ideas, which were in turn handed down by her descendants. And now, today in a seldom visited place where only the knowledgeable know to look, there persists a small society of witches who practice the Daughter's ideals as they have evolved to modern day form. These forgotten stalwarts call themselves the Nightsisters and Nightbrothers. The Force is strong with them. Generation after generation, they are born exquisitely sensitive to the unspoken subtext of the universe.
They witches came in ancient times to their current homeworld Dathomir as refugees from the Daughter's now-abandoned, wasteland home. The witches keep to themselves. No one bothers them in return. For you see, the sons and daughters of the Daughter can be fierce, when necessary. People wisely keep their distance. To the few outsiders who take notice, the witches appear to be a small, insular and mostly peaceful, agrarian society. The true nature of their coven—their real purpose—remains shrouded in mystery. But to this day, the witches wait in joyful hope of the coming of their saviors, the Great Mothers, who supposedly toil faithfully on their behalf on the far side of the cosmos where what remains of once-glorious, now fallen Mortis languishes.
In homage to their founder, the Nightbrothers and Nightsisters of Dathomir are ruled by a woman. The reigning Mother Witch is not the latest scion of a dynasty nor is she a conquering warrior queen. She is chosen for her merit by her peers and by the Force. She is selected for her wisdom, for her excellence, and for her heart. As a leader, the head Nightsister serves in many roles for her people. She is an administrator, a judge, a teacher, and a priestess. But the role the current leader longs for most of all—the role her very title connotes—is the role that eludes her. For this latest Mother Witch is barren.
Night after night, month after month for years, she welcomes a different Nightbrother to her incense-filled bower. She keeps each as a lover for a few days. But young or old, Force strong or Force weak, virile or puny, no Nightbrother can cause the Mother Witch to fall pregnant. It is a source of much distress and no small amount of embarrassment. For Mother Witches always bear strong sons who in turn ensure that the Nightbrothers remain formidable Force wielding warriors to protect the coven.
Over time, the Mother Witch's longtime curse of childlessness provokes whispers that perhaps the Force has forsaken her. Because as all Nightbrothers and Nightsisters learn as small children, the Force creates life and makes it grow. And so, when an otherwise healthy woman in the prime of life cannot conceive for decades, people begin to wonder if the Force truly is with her. They wonder if the time has come to choose another leader.
Disappointed yet again one month, the Mother Witch prays fervently for guidance. She conjures her strongest magic to commune with the Force. As the green swirl of life energy appears at her beckoning, the discouraged priestess implores her creator: Behold, I am the humble servant of the Force. Let it be done to me according to your will. If I have served my people long enough and the time has come to replace me, I will accept it. But if you wish for me to continue to lead the coven, send me a child. Force, make me an instrument of your will, she beseeches her god.
Force-fearing woman that she is, the Mother Witch knows her prayer will be answered. For in its own time and in its own way, the Force always manifests its wishes. She is patient and tells no one. But there are few secrets in a closeknit village of Force sensitive witches. Before long, the Mother Witch's closest rival in power, a great-grandmother stooped and gnarled with age, approaches her. Mother, I heard your prayer, old Daka reveals. I have seen the future. The Force will send you not one, but several fine sons to be proud of. Relieved beyond words for herself, for her reign, and for her people, the Mother Witch throws her arms around her aged Sister and weeps with joy. And then, she waits.
A few days later, an uninvited visitor arrives. He comes in peace seeking only knowledge. He is a noble count by birth, dignified in his bearing, and cerebral in temperament. But most importantly, he is full of Force. Surely, it must be a sign. This must be the father of her firstborn child sent by the Force, the Mother Witch surmises. So, she pays special personal attention to the visitor. They spend several days together in lengthy, wandering discussions about the nature of the Force. She is as curious about his Jedi ways as he is about the coven.
They are ready to part friends when the Mother Witch offends her visitor by giving him a passionate kiss. The Jedi Master wants no part of what she is offering to him. Unwilling to be thwarted since she has waited for so long, the Mother Witch promptly enchants the man with her power. She and the Jedi Master spend one night together before they part. The Mother Witch waits until the visitor is safely offworld before she lets her powerful love spell lapse. The unsuspecting Jedi then carries on with his life, ignorant of what occurred.
Nine months later, unto the Mother Witch a son is born. Her firstborn was a fine, fat, squalling infant with skin a deep ruddy crimson. That particular hue of complexion, extremely rare for their kind, is itself a sign of the Force's favor. This child is special. His overjoyed, proud mother doesn't want to show favoritism. She mutes her praise when around others. But she brags about her boy incessantly in the Force during her meditation.
Her boy will someday change the course of history, she is sure of it. The Mother Witch can't discern the exact details—the future is always in motion, of course—but the arc of her boy's fate is clear in her foresight: his power will be immense, and his influence lasting. For, in time, her child will combine the old ways of the witches with the modern advances of the current galaxy. Through his efforts, a new era will dawn akin to the halcyon days of the lost Mortis realm. Her boy will have the ambition of the original Son, the hard-won wisdom of the All-mighty Father, and the steadfast heart of the beloved Daughter. Could he be the one to at last reclaim Mortis and bring balance to the Force? His proud mama can't stop crowing about him into the murky twilight ether of the invisible energy field that binds the universe together.
Unbeknownst to the Mother Witch, more than just the Force is listening . . .