"She don't look so high and mighty to me. Just another number, scrabbling in the dirt, digging graves."
All around, the jungle was quiet except for the sound of shovels and pickaxes hitting the unforgiving soil thick with tangles of thorny roots. A row of prisoners chained together, mostly wookies with a few humans, toiled away digging a long trench six feet wide and six feet deep. Soon the bodies of the fallen would fill it, cast into a shared grave. The heat was so intense it was practically a physical force pressing down on those who labored under the blistering sun. Humid air left all of the miserable wretches as well as their guards drenched in sweat.
One of the impassive helmeted stormtroopers drove the butt of his rifle into the side of the mercenary who had spoken. "Leave that one alone, Tycho," the trooper barked.
The fair-haired woman covered in sweat and grave dirt straightened, still chained to the others working in the trench. The definition to her muscles was almost painful, every ounce of spare softness stripped away. Her clothes, a grey prisoner's uniform barely better than rags, showed hints of tattoos and scars alike down her arms where her sleeves were rolled up. The chains binding her abraded wrists clattered against the handle of the shovel she used.
"Yeah? What's a worm digging in the dirt going to do to me?"
The stormtrooper's head turned more fully towards the mercenary. There was an urgency in his voice when he gave his second warning. "I said leave her alone, Tycho."
"You sound afraid," Tycho mocked, one hand on his blaster. "I could shoot her dead right now."
"Try it, little cockroach," the woman rasped, voice shredded from want of water. When she looked over, the shadows around her hollow eyes only made them seem to burn more intensely with hatred, like living coals in a furnace. Her cracked lips curved into a dry smile. "See where it gets you."
Tycho pushed past the stormtrooper guard, drawing his blaster. "If they won't teach you that you're nothing, 1471, I will," he snarled.
She laughed as he closed the distance between them and raised his blaster to her head. "Nothing?" Contemptuous amusement reigned across her face, but the smile never reached her eyes. "I am nothing, am I?"
Sweat beaded on Tycho's brow. It didn't make sense. He was screaming at his body to pull the trigger, but he couldn't move his finger. Suddenly the finger started to twist in an unnatural angle, peeled off the blaster and crushed into paste inside his glove. He screamed in pain, but realized he couldn't move the rest of his body.
She leaned in close, those eyes burning like a wildfire. Suddenly the world around him seemed to close in. "These pretty little bracelets I wear are not going to save you. These men all around you carrying blaster rifles? They are too afraid to try to use them, because they know what happens. My name is not 1471, my end is not yours to decide, and I am not nothing. I am Sith."
One at a time, Tycho's bones snapped like twigs inside his armor, a symphony of horrific cracks accompanied by a scream that would last in the nightmares of all who heard it for the rest of their days, short or long. The woman watched him collapse into himself with an expression of supreme disinterest, only the faintest shadow of shallow satisfaction remaining. Once the power of her bind made it to his skull, ending his misery forever, the prisoner turned back to her shovel. "You can take him away, Sergeant. He is no longer in a condition to serve the Empire." Then she started to dig.
The shaking prisoner next to her looked over. "They will chain you worse now," he hissed.
She flexed her fingers on the shovel. "My chains are already broken, Daro. I fear nothing."
"They'll send an inquisitor," the narrow-faced man hissed.
"Let them. They can break their interrogation droids on my flesh a thousand times. It will make no difference."
"What if they kill you?"
She just laughed. "My life is not theirs to take. I have known the blood-drenched sands of Korriban, the burning suns of Tattooine, the schemes and ploys of Dromund Kaas. I outlived Malgus and Bane by thousands of years and you would have me fear sniveling little lickspittles? My fury is a tempest, my will is kyber, my spirit invincible!"
"You're crazy," Daro said, still frightened, but also awed.
"You mistake determination for madness." Her shovel bit deep into the earth, punctuating words of a conviction so absolute that it bent the universe around it. "I will see my asha again. It is only a matter of time." Ringing in those words was an unquenchable fire, a certainty of escape the moment the time was right. "They come tomorrow to take me to find the tomb of Exar Kun."
Lorash awoke in a cold sweat, heart aching in her chest. She could hear Vori bustling around camp making breakfast, chased by the chattering enthusiasm of the twins. Usually she was the first awake, not the last. She'd spent the past six months training every day with Nabeila, occasionally enduring a lecture or two from Vori. This was the first time she'd dreamed anything of Seia that wasn't longing or memory or some combination of the two. It felt different, too: vivid and real, even if it wasn't far from the horrors she'd imagined after hearing stories of Despayre. It was possible it was only a dream, but the only way to know for certain was to use the seeing stone in the old temple.
Vori poked his head into her tent. "Breakfast, Lorash," he said gently, hesitating for a moment when he saw her distress. "Nightmare?"
"I don't know," Lorash admitted quietly. "It seemed so real."
"If it's still too soon, there is no shame in waiting."
Lorash shook her head, pulling herself together mentally. "No. I'm ready to prove myself." If anything, the dream left her feeling even more motivated to leave Tython as a jedi knight. Images of Seia's ravaged body haunted her memory after Vori left, even as she pulled together her own clothes and took a back path towards the lake for a bath. Nabeila, that dream… She let the thought trail off, not even certain where to start. It made her stomach churn.
You know I am privy only to what you show me, Nabeila reminded her gently.
Lorash forced herself to call up the dream into her thoughts, playing over it again for Nabeila. She felt the Jedi Master's revulsion and distress as clearly as her own. Is it real?
I…I am not certain. I cannot sense her, but I do not have the same connection that you do. Something has changed if that was truly from her. What do you believe?
"Either a sith inquisitor sent that vision or the Force itself. I don't know which. Where is the tomb of Exar Kun?" Lorash asked.
Nabeila hesitated pensively. His stronghold was once Yavin 4. I am not certain, but if I were to look anywhere, it would be there. It goes without saying that it will be very dangerous to pursue whatever the source of the vision, but especially if it is a trap.
Lorash's heart clenched at the thought of Seia's suffering in the vision. "I don't want to expose the others to risk by using the seeing stone, but I'm not going to abandon her either. If there's any chance the Empire is taking her to find the tomb, I'm finding her."
Then let us hope our preparations are enough for you to pass Master Vori's test. Once that is done, you might appeal to Corr to help you. He will want to stop them from finding any weapon of the Dark Side on that world, and that is most assuredly what they seek.
Lorash nodded and hurried through cleaning up, pulling on clean clothes once the last of the sweat was gone. She took a deep breath and then started assembling her lightsaber, a daily practice that centered her in the delicate manipulations required. What had once been an ordeal was now so simple that it required barely any thought. The screws threaded nicely into place, sealing the kyber crystal inside its protective casing. Her mind wanted to relentlessly return to the vision, however, and played parts on repeat even as she tried to meditate and refocus.
Balance yourself, Lorash. I know you are hurting, Nabeila coached gently. I know you want to reach Seia, but first you must prove yourself equal to the task set before you.
"Right," Lorash murmured, taking another deep breath. She pressed her palms into the ground, reminding herself just how small she and all of her problems were in the grand scheme of things. I trust the Force to bring us back together. Emotion, yet peace. Ignorance, yet knowledge. Passion, yet serenity. Chaos, yet harmony. Death, yet the Force.
She preferred the alternative version of the Code. It wasn't an antithesis, but felt more true in her heart of hearts. It was the balance that she had been searching for, an acknowledgement of all the things she felt and feared weighed in perfect alignment with their opposites. She could see both, feel both, and be both. Her primary disagreement with Vori hadn't changed: peace was not warring with love, but something that had to be measured alongside it.
Vori was waiting for her at the center of camp alongside two ancient Jedi combat droids, kneeling in his meditation pose while Corr, some of his crew, and the twins watched from the sidelines. He did not look up when she arrived. "Recite the code for me, Lorash," he said softly.
She knew he needed to hear the full, more traditional version. "There is no emotion, there is peace. There is no ignorance, there is knowledge. There is no passion, there is serenity. There is no chaos, there is harmony. There is no death, there is the Force."
"Very good," Vori said, rising to his feet. "With this fixed in your mind, your trials begin. First, with the least of them: skill."
Nabeila hadn't warned her what to expect, but Lorash could sense the change in her master's demeanor as he flicked out his lightsaber and ignited it. Each droid readied a beskar staff, but Lorash was already in motion before they could bring them to bear. This was a test of her ability as a combatant, but also her control: she would have to defeat Vori without seriously injuring or killing him, though she had a feeling the droids wouldn't take any pulled punches.
Lorash took Nabeila's favorite stance, weight perfectly balanced between her feet. These were not simple mindless droids with routine combat programming: they were advanced and sophisticated despite their age, hearkening back to a time when the Sith and Jedi warred openly.
Their blows came in flurries while Vori circled around behind her. Lorash closed her eyes, trusting her sense to guide her. Her lightsaber danced in her hands like a feather on the wind, arcing back and forth in deceptive spins and spirals as she kept the droids at bay. When Vori thrust at her from behind, her response was a push with the Force that moved him backwards in a slide, enough to neutralize the threat without doing him any harm.
Even as she battled, though, the darkness started to bubble up. She wasn't certain where it was coming from, if Vori was stirring it or Nabeila was. He abandoned Seia to her fate. You've seen how she suffers. A simple slip, and you could punish him properly. You don't even need to kill him. Why? Maiming would be so much more satisfying.
The young woman knew if she resisted the thought, it would persist. Instead, she let it seethe in the corner of her mind and focused on what her opponents were doing. One of the droids managed to circle in through her defenses, cracking the staff across her ribs. The only thing she could do was soften the blow with the Force until it was bearable, bruising without a broken bone. She retaliated swiftly, parting the droid from its head.
It kept fighting, even headless. She was literally going to have to render them into pieces unable to move.
She screamed for you during the interrogations and you were here, playing jedi in the forest. Do you feel nothing for her pain?
Anger started to well in the pit of Lorash's stomach, bitter and acrid. Focus, Lorash, focus, the young woman told herself, even as she felt tears starting to well up. If you fail here, it will be for nothing.
That's all you do: nothing.
Lorash's eyes snapped open as she used her momentum to cut one of the droids into three separate pieces. She hooked her fingers in the air as she snared the other one, pulling it straight onto her lightsaber and cutting downward, halving the combat droid. That left only Vori. Lorash spun to face her old master, who watched her every move carefully.
He was sensing her, watching the thoughts and emotions play through her being, watching her struggle with her own darkness.
Emotion, yet peace. Ignorance, yet knowledge. Passion, yet serenity. Chaos, yet harmony. Death, yet the Force. She repeated the mantra over and over again in her thoughts to quell the anger and spite, grasping for the cultivated balance that had kept her afloat through months of knowing nothing.
"The darkness is still strong in you," Vori said quietly. "As strong as your skills in combat, it would appear. Those battle droids would have stopped even most knights."
"The brighter the light, the darker the shadow it casts," Lorash said, exhaling out some of the anger and spite. She didn't know where it was coming from or why, but the Dark Side was flourishing in her like a vine. Hadn't she weeded it enough with Nabeila's help, trimmed it back? Why now? "I am not going to succumb to temptation."
"You already have," Vori said, settling into a guard position. She recognized it immediately from Nabeila's descriptions: Makashi. It wasn't what she'd expected for a scholar, nor from the one who'd given her the basics of Niman. It was a favorite of duelists and very dangerous. "I healed the marks, remember?"
Lorash felt like she'd been punched. For him to paint her night shared with Seia as falling to the Dark Side's temptation was harsher than any slap would have been. It stirred up the coals of rage like nothing else could. But the moment she felt her temper rise, Lorash forced herself not to take the leap forward she wanted to towards him, not to strike. If she attacked now, it wouldn't be measured or conservative. It would be pure wrath. "You're wrong," Lorash said firmly, the muscles in her jaw working as she calmed herself down. "About her. About me. About us." She closed her eyes again and then opened them, focusing on Vori. "I'm not afraid of falling. I know what the truth is."
"And what is that?" Vori asked even as he moved, striking with the swiftness of a snake. His motions were careful and controlled, but incredible in their speed with the single blade. He moved much faster than she could move her staff-like saber, so she moved herself out of the way instead.
The young woman didn't answer him, even in her thoughts. She cleared her mind and focused her breath on the task at hand. Instead of focusing on Vori's blade, she focused on his feet, batting what strikes away she could and evading the rest while she tried to orient herself to his motion. Lorash subtly adjusted her stance and style, blending in the Soresu techniques Nabeila had taught her for a whirling defense. She let Vori set the tempo, copying his pace, mirroring his movements. The moment she saw his feet settle into the pattern, she sprang her trap.
Lorash extinguished one blade and brought her blade into Vori's with the overwhelming force she'd seen Seia wield so effortlessly in Juyo, propelled by a Force-empowered leap that broke the timing of the tempo Vori had created without realizing it. Her master was knocked onto his back, but she extinguished the second blade a split second before it could make contact with Vori's face and extended her hand, pulling his lightsaber away from him where he'd dropped it. The weapon floated over and settled into her palm, resisting his attempts to pull it towards him. She turned to face her master as he sprang up from the ground, a lightsaber in each hand.
Something in her chest was howling for revenge, for bloodshed, but instead Lorash tossed her master's saber back to him. "Do we continue?" she asked.
Vori smiled ruefully, though his gaze was still wary. "I think you proved the better of this old one. And your rage…it is not your master. There are other desires and shortcomings that we must see if you can best as well, however."
"Such as?" Lorash handed him back his lightsaber.
"Fear will be the next," Vori said. "For that and the others, an audience is unnecessary. We will go to the old temple. There is a vergence there that will serve as your crucible."
You did well to resist so far, Lorash, Nabeila said quietly in her thoughts. I unearthed the seething resentments you still carry, but the vergence will expose you to things you fear and desire alike.
You stirred all of that up? Why?
I know what the trials entail. You would have faced your rage one way or another. This was the hardest situation for you to resist. Nabeila's voice was deadly serious. The Dark Side will tempt you many times, more severely than even that. You needed something as realistic as possible for Vori to understand that you will not succumb.
What if I had? I could have killed him!
But you did not, Nabeila said sharply. Part of learning not to fear the darkness is learning not to fear what you are capable of: only knowing it, acknowledging it, and resolving not to follow those paths.
Lorash took a deep breath and bowed her head in acceptance of Nabeila's point. I'll take that as a vote of confidence.
You should. I know you better than he does. The tests at the vergence will be far more demanding…and beyond that, well, true tests never end.