I own nothing from Star Wars, just my OC, please enjoy my little slice of twisted heaven.
The thick stench of rot and rust hung in the air, a suffocating miasma that clung to every breath. Lotho Minor was a sprawling graveyard of forgotten machines and discarded lives. The incessant hum of scavenger droids and the distant clatter of shifting debris formed a discordant symphony that never ceased. For her, it was not just noise—it was a haunting melody tied to pain and confusion.
She didn't know how she had come to be here. Her mind was a tangled void, her memories hidden behind a fog she couldn't penetrate. The wreckage of a ship loomed before her, twisted metal scattered like the broken pieces of a forgotten dream. She knew she had come from the ship, but nothing about it felt familiar. Even her own reflection, faintly visible in a shard of jagged metal, was alien to her. The face staring back had no name.
Her wings ached—three of them hung uselessly, broken and battered. She could feel the sharp sting of cuts and the dull throb of bruises across her body. Her throat burned where the strange collar sat, its cold weight oppressive and unyielding. It pulsed faintly, drawing her strength away like a parasite. Every attempt to recall who she was met only with fragments: the scent of stars, the feel of weightless flight, the faint memory of song. But even those faint glimmers faded quickly, leaving her with a hollow ache that echoed through her very being.
The crash replayed in flashes of fire and chaos. Pain lanced through her body as she tried to piece together what little she could. There had been a ship—hers, she thought, though she wasn't sure. It had hurtled through the choking skies of this wretched planet before slamming into the ground. She didn't remember crawling out of the wreckage, but she had, her broken wings dragging behind her, her vision blurring as smoke and debris swirled around her.
The pirates had come at dusk, their grotesque forms looming like nightmares out of the shadows. Scavengers and cybernetic monstrosities, their mismatched parts and leering faces were seared into her mind. She had heard them before she saw them—their raucous laughter and the mechanical hiss of their crude augmentations filling the air, mingling with the aching thrum of her broken wings. Her heart had pounded, the pain in her body forgotten for a fleeting moment as instinct whispered to run, to hide. But there was nowhere to go.
They descended upon her like vultures, their cruel hands grabbing at her as they jeered and laughed. She fought, her desperation lending fleeting strength to her broken body. Her wings flared instinctively, though their damaged state only brought fresh pain. She didn't know how she had managed to fend them off even for a moment, her movements uncoordinated but fueled by an instinct she didn't fully understand. The memory of it all blurred—flashes of her arms flailing, the jagged edge of metal in her hand as she struck at one of them. But it wasn't enough.
The butt of a rifle slammed into her temple, and everything fell into darkness. Her last thoughts had been of her wings, broken and heavy, dragging her further into despair. They should have carried her away, but instead, they betrayed her—just like everything else in this world.
When she woke, panic clawed at her chest. The cold, unyielding bars of a cage surrounded her, cobbled together from scraps of durasteel that mocked her with their crude strength. Her breaths came shallow and rapid, the air thick with the rancid stench of sweat, rust, and decay. Her wings throbbed with pain, three of them lying limp and broken behind her, a constant reminder of her helplessness. Her fingers reached instinctively for her throat, encountering the harsh weight of the collar—an alien thing that pulsed faintly, siphoning away her strength.
The pirates' jeers pierced her dazed thoughts, their crude laughter echoing around her. She barely understood their taunts, but the leering tones were unmistakable. "Angel," they called her. "Light Girl. Songbird." The nicknames twisted in her mind, turning her own glowing form into a cruel mockery. Their hungry eyes raked over her, treating her not as a person but a prize to be paraded through their squalid camp. Her wings—once a source of freedom and grace—were now nothing but a spectacle for their amusement.
She pressed herself back against the cage, her heart racing as her gaze darted frantically across her surroundings. The camp was a grotesque sprawl of makeshift tents and flickering fires, the shadows dancing across twisted, leering faces. The acrid tang of burning scrap stung her nose, mingling with the reek of unwashed bodies and rotting food. Every sound—every crackle of flame, every metallic scrape—set her nerves alight, feeding her terror.
Her hands trembled as she gripped the rough, rusted bars of the cage, her mind a whirlwind of confusion and fear. Where was she? Who were these creatures? And why couldn't she remember anything? Her own name eluded her, slipping through her grasp like smoke. She closed her eyes, searching her fragmented memories for answers, but found only flashes of fire, the cold expanse of space, and the haunting echo of a song she couldn't place.
The pirates' laughter grew louder, their voices dripping with malice as they circled her cage. Her chest tightened, her panic threatening to consume her. She clenched her jaw, her nails digging into her palms as she forced herself to hold back the tears. She couldn't let them see her fear. She wouldn't give them that satisfaction. Yet deep within her, beneath the suffocating weight of terror and pain, a flicker of resolve remained. She didn't belong here. She would find a way out—she had to.
The camp was a nightmare. The air was thick with the stench of unwashed bodies, spoiled food, and the acrid tang of burning scrap. The fires the pirates gathered around cast flickering shadows, their grotesque faces made monstrous by the dancing light. She sat in the cold, damp shadows of their encampment, her wrists bound and her spirit weighed down by pain and fear. Her heart ached with a yearning she couldn't fully understand—a longing for freedom, for the stars, for something she couldn't even name.
She clenched her jaw, refusing to let the tears fall. She would not give them the satisfaction of seeing her break. The rough rope bit into her wrists as she flexed her fingers, the sharp sting grounding her in the present. The pirates jeered at her from a distance, their laughter carrying a malice that made her stomach churn. She hated them. She hated the cage, the collar, the world that seemed to conspire to strip her of everything.
Her hands trembled as she gripped the rough, rusted bars of the cage, the cold biting into her skin. Her breaths came shallow and rapid, her chest tightening as the reality of her situation sank in. She was trapped. Caged. The faint pulsing of the collar around her neck felt even more oppressive now, its presence a constant reminder of her helplessness.
The pirates' voices broke through her spiraling thoughts, their jeers dripping with malice. "Sing us a song, Angel!" one of them called out, his voice slurred as he drank from a grimy oil can. She clutched her arms around herself, wishing she could disappear, her pale skin seeming to glow faintly in the dim firelight. Her wings twitched weakly, the movement sending fresh waves of pain lancing through her back. She whimpered softly as the pirate's voice grew louder, joined by the crude laughter of his companions.
She flinched when the oil can clattered against the bars of her cage, spilling its foul contents onto her. The liquid stung her cuts, burning her skin and making her eyes water. She blinked rapidly, trying to clear her vision as the scavengers erupted into laughter. Her lips trembled, her body shaking with a mixture of fear and pain.
"Sing, Cage Bird!" the pirate sneered, his muddy brown eyes narrowing as he leaned against the bars. His breath reeked of alcohol and rot, and she recoiled instinctively, pressing herself against the far side of the cage. "Or I'll break your other wings."
His words sent a chill down her spine, and she didn't doubt for a second that he meant them. Her gaze darted to the other pirates, their dirty, mechanical clothing making them look more like monsters than men. This one—the leader, she realized—was the best dressed among them, his crude authority evident in the way the others followed his lead. She swallowed hard, her throat dry and aching, as her mind spun with panic.
Desperately, she tried to hum a note, but her voice cracked and faltered, coming out as a dry rasp. The sound sent her into a fit of coughing, her body shaking as her sore throat rebelled. She gripped the bars tightly, her fingers digging into the rough metal as she tried again. Nothing but a faint, garbled whisper emerged, her vocal cords refusing to cooperate. The leader's face twisted with anger as he pounded the bars again, his voice rising above the jeers of his men.
"Sing, Cage Bird!" he roared, the menace in his tone making her flinch. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to push past the burning in her throat, the panic clawing at her chest. "P-please," she stammered, forcing the words out through her trembling lips. "May I have something to drink? Then… I'll sing..." Her words faltered, her gaze dropping to the floor as shame and fear clawed at her insides. She hated herself for asking, for giving them any semblance of control, but the dryness in her throat and the ache in her body left her little choice.
The leader laughed, a cruel, rasping sound that made her stomach churn. He grabbed a cup from near the fire, filling it with something she didn't want to identify. The other pirates laughed along with him, their mockery ringing in her ears. She didn't hear their words; she was too focused on the leader as he approached her cage.
"Come here, Cage Bird," he said, his voice dripping with mockery as he pounded on the bars. "Take your drink."
She hesitated, her instincts screaming at her to stay as far away from him as possible. But the promise of pain in his eyes was enough to compel her forward. She scooted closer to the bars, her pale hands trembling as she reached for the cup. Just as her fingers brushed against the rusted metal, his hand shot out, grabbing her by the hair and yanking her forward.
A strangled cry escaped her lips as he pulled her face close to his, his rancid breath washing over her. "Here, Cage Bird," he sneered, his rotten teeth flashing in the firelight. "Here's your drink."
Before she could react, his hand clamped around her chin, forcing her mouth open. The foul liquid burned as it hit her tongue, its acrid taste making her gag. Tears streamed down her face as he poured it down her throat, laughing cruelly as she coughed and sputtered.
When he finally released her, she fell back against the cage, her body trembling and her mind reeling. The pirates' laughter echoed around her, a cacophony of cruelty that made her chest tighten. She curled into herself, her broken wings draped limply around her as she fought to hold back the sobs threatening to escape.
"Now sing!" the leader bellowed, slamming his hand against the bars for emphasis. Her voice trembled as she tried to comply, the faint, broken melody barely audible over their mocking laughter. She sang not because she wanted to, but because she had to. Because survival demanded it.
Feeling her voice truly sing for the first time, despite her sore and bruised throat, felt like the first right thing in her broken world. The notes came without words, just raw, haunting melodies that hummed from deep within her chest. At first, her voice was rough, interrupted by coughing fits, but as her throat cleared and her mind grew hazy from the foul drink, they had forced on her, the music flowed freely. Each note carried the weight of her pain, her yearning, her bleeding heart. She sang with an unrestrained purity, pouring every fractured piece of herself into the song.
She didn't notice the way the camp fell silent, the jeering men pausing mid-drink and mid-bite, captivated. All eyes turned to her, their laughter forgotten as they listened, dead silent. The air grew heavy with the ethereal power in her voice, but it was short-lived. The collar around her pale, bruised neck tightened, cutting her off mid-note, choking her into silence. A collective blink seemed to wash over the men, as if they were shaking off a spell. They muttered and returned to their food and drink, though the camp felt less rowdy now.
The leader with muddy brown eyes didn't look away. His gaze burned into her, a sickening heat that made her shiver. It was as though his stare tainted her, stripping her bare. Swallowing her unease, she continued to sing softly, careful not to call upon the strange power she had felt bubbling beneath her skin. She had touched it briefly, a fleeting connection that had surged through her song and been snuffed out by the collar. But even stripped of power, her voice still carried her sorrow.
Her wide eyes darted around the camp as she sang. The place was a twisted labyrinth of broken metal, tattered canvases, and flickering fires. Nearly twenty men were scattered throughout, their grimy silhouettes moving like ghosts through the dim light. Massive pits surrounded the camp, yawning chasms that seemed to stretch endlessly into darkness. As she stood hunched over in the cramped cage, she strained to glimpse what lay at the bottom, but the pits were too deep, too dark. If someone told her they led straight to hell, she would have believed them.
The night deepened, the planet's filth and decay swallowing any trace of light. She sang for hours, her voice carrying into the blackness, a fragile yet defiant sound against the oppressive gloom. Only when the captain barked at her to shut up did she finally stop, releasing a sigh of relief. Singing for so long had been both a torment and a strange solace, but the reprieve felt like heaven. She slumped against the cage bars, leaning into the cold metal sheet pressed against one side of the cage, which offered a meager semblance of shelter.
Exhaustion overtook her as she began to assess her injuries. Cuts and bruises covered her pale skin, each one a reminder of her captors' cruelty. The worst of it, though, was her broken wings. Trying as best as she could, she tucked all six of them awkwardly against her back, wincing as pain radiated through her body. They didn't fold completely, their jagged edges trembling with each movement. Gingerly, she reached for one of her unbroken wings, examining it in the flickering firelight. It was large and almost blade-like, its surface shimmering faintly with intricate patterns that glinted in the darkness. For a moment, she wondered if they would glitter under the stars.
Stars. The word felt distant and foreign. She furrowed her brow, straining to recall what stars were, why they glittered, but the memory slipped through her fingers like sand. The effort made her head throb, and she gave up with a frustrated sigh, tucking her wing back into place. Wrapping her long, slender arms around her knees, she curled into herself. Her filthy, tattered dress hung loosely around her battered frame as she shivered, her body aching for rest. As her eyes drifted shut, her thoughts swirled with fractured memories and unspoken prayers for the nightmare to end.
The next day—if you could even call it that—was more of the same. The air was thick with smog, blocking out the sun, leaving the world a dim, oppressive haze. The pirates moved through their makeshift camp with the same manic energy, scavenging and scrapping for anything they could find. They fought over scraps, their voices rising in harsh barks and laughs that pierced the suffocating silence.
She couldn't keep track of the hours anymore. Time felt irrelevant here, where everything was tainted by the stench of decay and metal. The second-in-command, a hulking figure whose eyes had been replaced by crude cybernetic implants that glowed a sickly green, was talking to the man with the mud-colored eyes again. His face was half covered by jagged metal, a cruel mockery of humanity. The two of them would stare at the wrist of the man with the muddy eyes, speaking to the small device strapped there. Hours would pass with nothing but a low buzz and the occasional flicker of something blue hovering above his wrist.
A small blue face, it was hazy, would appear from the device, flickering and speaking in soft tones. It made no sense. A tiny face floating in mid-air, like something out of a dream or a nightmare. They would converse with it, and she would watch in confused silence. Then, without fail, the man with the mud eyes would point in her direction, a cruel grin stretching across his face when he did. She'd flinch instinctively, even though she knew it was coming. That smile, filled with rotten teeth, would only widen, and he'd turn back to his conversation with the cybernetic man, as if her discomfort was just another piece of the puzzle they were playing with.
Her pulse quickened every time they looked at her like that. It was like they were discussing her, and she hated that feeling. But she didn't know what they were planning. They'd never outright spoken to her, never directly threatened her. But she had learned quickly enough that the absence of words didn't mean safety.
As she was lost in her thoughts, a sudden noise broke her concentration. Something heavy landed with a metallic clang inside her cage. Her heart skipped a beat as she whipped around, her broken wings catching painfully against the rusted bars. A hiss of pain escaped her as she stumbled backward, too fast, too disoriented. The man who threw it, laughing, tossed something else in without a care and sauntered away. She was left, breathless and reeling, eyes fixed on the cold metal floor where the items had landed.
Her pulse hammered in her ears as she glanced down, dread pooling in her stomach. Her vision swam for a moment, the disorientation making her feel light-headed, but she forced herself to focus. What had they thrown?
Bread. Hard as stone, moldy and covered in patches of green rot. A small, dented canteen. She recoiled, her stomach turning at the thought of eating any of it. But she didn't have a choice. The thought of going hungry again gnawed at her, a persistent, primal fear that always lingered.
She scooted over to the bread, picking it up carefully, her nose wrinkling at the foul smell. It was disgusting. Every fiber of her being screamed to throw it away, to refuse. But she needed strength—needed it to escape, to get away from this place, from these men who looked at her like an object. She couldn't let herself falter now. She had to survive.
Sighing, she grabbed the canteen, twisting it open. The smell of dirty water hit her, stale and metallic. Her throat burned at the thought of it, but she didn't hesitate. She poured some of the water over the bread, hoping it would soften it, make it easier to swallow. It didn't. The bread stayed as hard as ever, the moldy surface slick with the grimy water.
Her teeth ground together as she bit into the bread. It was as dry as sandpaper, scratching against the inside of her throat. The taste was unbearable, but she forced herself to keep chewing, swallowing the rancid remnants. The water helped a little, but only for a moment. Soon, the taste of it was enough to make her gag. She choked on a cough, clutching her throat, her stomach rebelling. She shoved the bread and canteen to the side, turning away as nausea crawled up her spine.
She needed a plan. A way out.
Her eyes swept over the area around her cage. It was barren—cleaned of anything that could be used against them. The scavengers were too clever, too cautious to leave anything within her reach. Nothing she could use to escape. Nothing at all.
Her body slumped against the metal, her broken wings shifting painfully behind her. She rested her head against the cold bars, breathing in the stale air. She couldn't stop the despair from settling over her. Every thought, every plan, seemed to crumble the moment it formed. How long had she been here? It felt like eternity.
The pirates were close. She could hear their laughter in the distance, the clinking of metal, the crackling of fire. But for now, she was left alone with her thoughts and her broken body. Her wings ached, her heart ached, but most of all, her spirit felt fragile, cracked in a way she couldn't mend.
She clenched her fists, willing herself not to fall into the crushing hopelessness that threatened to drag her under. She had to escape. She had to.
But how? How could she do this alone, with nothing but broken wings and a shattered past to guide her?
Her eyes closed for a moment, but her mind never stopped racing. She would find a way. Somehow. Someway. She just had to hold on a little longer.