But you do not know her as I do. You have not survived her teachings, as I have… - Darth Sion
Her dawning of the helmet of the Second Sister merely marked the beginning of the Grand Inquisitor's investment in Trilla. The scars left behind by the Imperial torture chair became fond memories when contrasted with his plans for her. As while Cal and other Jedi, like him, vanished into the ether on the worlds they found themselves stranded upon, Trilla was thrust into the jungles of Dxun.
Abandoned without provisions, or even a weapon, she watched dumbly as the Grand Inquisitor's shuttle disappeared behind the clouds. The foundation had been broken, but Trilla still needed to be remade from nothing. An ideal Jedi hunter was one who was no longer weighed down by concepts like compassion or empathy. Such lessons could only be imparted through the laws of nature, not the fictions of civilization. Dxun was the perfect moon to be a teacher. A humid jungle biome, it supported a diverse web of life comprised of all manner of species. Throughout its history, the planet was the center of numerous battles and death struggles between civilizations. Its surface remained scarred from these wounds of war. Underneath an impenetrable canopy of trees and a constant deluge of rain, one's affinity for the light was easily pushed to the brink.
Where the twins of starvation and dehydration take hold of a body, madness follows readily behind. Three months after being stranded, Trilla had lost most of her faculties, reduced to a beast stalking her prey through the brush. Her target? The native Cannok. A grotesque yellow-scaled lizard that infested every cranny of the jungles. It was rare to find one without its pack, but from her position behind a tree, Trilla was certain it must have been separated. The creature's bloated belly dragged along the ground as its bulging eyes scanned the immediate area. The Cannok never had a chance. Sharp stone clenched between both hands, she rushed from her hiding place and brought it crashing down hard on the Cannok's head. Trilla cried out savagely, hammering at its skull until there was a powerful crack. Gooey, blackish gray fluid oozed onto her hands.
Trilla pushed her fingers into the breach, peeling back the scaly layer of skin, eager to get at the base of the skull. She pulled backward with all her might. A wet squelch followed as she tore the surviving chunk of bone free of the spinal column. The surviving portion of the skull served nicely as a bowl. Taking care to pick out the broken fragments of bone from the brain slurry, Trilla readily brought the remainder to her lips. She slurped the repugnant liquid down without a second thought. It filled her mouth with a thick, sticky film which clung to her teeth.
She gagged, fighting to keep the gunk from climbing out of her stomach. When the nausea subsided, Trilla allowed herself to rest. She gazed longingly at the gray sky. So long without sunlight was grating on her fragile thread of sanity. When coupled with the feverish humidity that left her on the verge of fainting most days, Trilla's existence was ruptured between a pit of despair and a stubborn will to survive. Knowing not to linger in one place for too long, else the larger predators stalking the trees would find her, Trilla grabbed hold of the Cannok and, straining, dragged it back to the cave, serving as her home away from home.
Little more than a small nook in the raised earth, the damp crevasse spared her the elements and the disadvantages night brought. Here she had a small amount of tools, fashioned from bone, set aside for the preparation of meat. Sitting on her knees in front of the Cannok, Trilla plunged a knife into its gut. She cut the carcass open, filling the space with the warm stench of sulfur and methane. An overwhelming odor that brought with it a migraine as she worked.
Through watering eyes, she pushed her hands inside the gory mass, feeling around. Finding a hunk of metal from a ship's hull, Trilla tossed it away disinterestedly. The diet of the non-discriminating omnivore never ceasing to impress her. Her prize, though, was the creature's heart. A nutrient dense slab of muscle, it was large enough to require both hands to hold. Saliva formed on her lips, as her mind went blank in an anticipation. Trilla could already taste the savory texture. With no further delay, she plunged her teeth into the heart's left chamber, sending spews of warm blood across her face as she chewed. The air grew heavy with the scent of iron.
As she ate, her thoughts unwillingly drifted to her fall. Trilla had had plenty of time to ruminate on what she had become. It was a brief fall, all things considered. The Grand Inquisitor's physical abuse had done much to convince her of the errors in her thinking. Electrical burns on her chest and arms had only just begun to scab over. His gifts to her. The mental scars, however, were harder to escape. When the monsoons of Dxun rolled through, showering the planet with rain, the lightning strikes often produced involuntary twitches across Trilla's body as she cowered in the cover of her cave. Consequences of the Grand Inquisitor's methodology nothing more. For what his absolution helped her see what lurked below the surface. He found no need to teach Trilla anger. Simply explained its usefulness. He did not direct her to hate Cere, only emphasized the resentment that was already present.
Trilla found she had plenty of hate to give. Even if most of said hate was directed internally. As she despised her innate weakness above all else. Had she known not to depend on others, Cere's betrayal would never have haunted Trilla. Strength was a peculiar notion. The Jedi had never really imparted a satisfying definition of strength. They had taught Trilla restraining her emotions was the path to inner strength. However, had she fought when given the chance, she would never have been enslaved by the Empire. Dead maybe. But death was looking more and more likely from where she knelt regardless. Trilla tightened her grip on the bone knife, gritting her teeth. It was her fault for trusting Cere's teachings and not her instinct. Finishing the remainder of the heart, Trilla returned to the Cannok.
Her hand reached into its guts again, and this time closed around its fatty, engorged liver. Her stomach voiced its excitement with a low, rumbling growl. She resisted the urge to tear into the organ, knowing whatever a Cannok filtered out of its system would most certainly short circuit hers.
Using a cleaned and sharpened femur bone, Trilla pierced the center of the liver, setting it over a crude spit. A pyramid of dried kindling was situated between three stones below the glistening meat. Now came the hard part. To produce a spark, she had to focus on the heat contained within the moisture of the water coating the walls of the cave. With considerable effort, she drew it out, creating a small flame beneath the liver.
Exhausted, Trilla slumped down. Her limbs were clenched in the torments of a deep, penetrating soreness, prompting many uncomfortable shifts as she tried to rest. Unable to find a single position which alleviated this pain, she grunted, annoyed, and lay flat on the hard ground. Isolation was an unwelcome omnipresence in the jungle. The wind whistling through the snaking branches outside had transformed into hostile whispers of denigration a month prior. Now, even subtle sounds of life were reduced to little more than the creeping of wild predators on the hunt for their prey. Violence and death were everywhere. The natural order in harmony. Today, though, Trilla was enticed by the pops and crackling of glistening meat as the fire licked away the impurities.
Maybe she had been left to die. The Grand Inquisitor must have decided she would be of no use to the Empire. Trilla frowned, refusing to humor the idea. He had praised her ability with a lightsaber. Applauded her willingness rely on the dark side to fight. He knew she had potential. He had to know. Otherwise, she would have perished with the other rejects. Trilla hummed softly, confident in her assessment it was all a test of her endurance. Yes, being on Dxun, was making her stronger.
Unfortunately, Trilla's confidence wavered as her brooding came full circle back to Cere once again. A Jedi who, despite her superior training, cracked faster than Trilla when subjected to the same abuse. Knowing her master had so readily condemned her to a miserable fate left Trilla adrift in a vast ocean with no land in sight. On all sides, sharks circled, waiting to have their fill. They would never get the satisfaction of killing her.
She had pleaded for them to stick together. Cere had ignored her and, as always, trusted the Force as a guide. Yet despite her reservations, Trilla had stayed by the younglings. She had stayed against all reason. Her loyalty was repaid with suffering. Trilla struck the ground angrily. That was the Grand Inquisitor's most important lesson. When push came to shove, Cere used the dark side to save herself, and abandoned Trilla to his tutelage. Her master had known she was a lost cause. There was to be no redemption in the eyes of the Jedi.
The sweet smell of burning fat reached her nostrils, drawing Trilla back to more primitive matters. There was no reason to wait for the liver to cool. She gulped it down in a single bite. As the charred meat scratched its way down her throat, a ship pass overhead outside.
Hopeful she went to see and watched a black Imperial Lambda shuttle sink below the treeline. Salvation. Trilla rushed to greet the ship, pushing through underbrush until she stood in a clearing, where she fell onto her knees as the ramp was lowered. Rain gently pattered off the ship's metallic surface as the Grand Inquisitor appeared. He strode forward with his usual level of detachment. There was an emptiness in his eyes as he took in his surroundings.
As he reached her, Trilla dropped her head. "Water…" Her voice emerged as a harsh croak.
"Dreadful heat," he remarked, reaching for a canteen concealed in his coat. "Reminds me of the war." The Grand Inquisitor roughly nudged her aside with his boot, walking up to the trees with an introspective expression. He listened to the sounds of birds, heaving a wistful sigh. "Ah, there is something so wonderful about nature untouched by the claws of machinery…" He turned back toward her. "The Jedi believe to remain in balance with the Force, one must devote oneself to the stewardship of life."
Trilla kept her eyes forward, staring at the ship's landing gear, as she balled her fist. "The Jedi… are fools."
"Are you sure? There are many ways to protect life."
"Yes, but the most natural way to protect life is for it to run its course," she said, shaking with rage. "Balance is realized through the conflict of species. Those who cannot compete are consumed, and return to the chain of life."
"Which is why our Empire is perfect." The Grand Inquisitor was pleased by her answer. "It uplifts those who show promise and discards those who do not." He brushed his fingers against the high grass thoughtfully. "The Jedi, however, are an invasive species burdening the galactic ecosystem. They hope to protect all life, no matter its practicality." He slowly walked back over to her, casting a long shadow over hers. "That is against the will of the Force. Weeds must be rooted out of a garden for plants to grow strong. Life can only be preserved… through death."
"Hence why our Inquisitorius has a duty to cull this overburden." Trilla heard him crouch down behind her and felt warm breath dance over the hairs on her neck. "The Jedi must end and never return. For the safety of the galaxy."
"Wonderful." His longer finger stroked her cheek. It was clammy, cool against her skin. Trilla shuddered, closing her eyes tight. The Grand Inquisitor leaned into her ear. "Are you ready to return to our home, sister?"
Trilla felt something metal in her hand and looked down to find the canteen. "Yes, Grand Inquisitor." She did not wait for him to retract the drink, guzzling it gratefully.
"Then there is one final trial." He stood, and gave a shrill whistle.
Two imposing enforcer class droids appeared. Between them was a boy, maybe a few years younger than her. Although it was hard to tell with the black sack over his head. His robes making it obvious he was another padawan. The Grand Inquisitor removed the sack, revealing that the boy's eyes had been cut out. Two empty sockets remained. His mouth was sewn shut with crude metal pins. Through cracked and bleeding lips, he grunted.
Unnerved, Trilla dragged herself to the feet. "Who is this?" She knew the Grand Inquisitor was capable of untold cruelty, however, seeing a window into her potential fate was enough for a fist to form in the center of stomach.
"One who did not accept my absolution." The Grand Inquisitor smiled. "And your prey." He shuffled to the side. "It is a simple situation. Only one of you will return to Nur. The other will die." With a flick of his wrist, he removed the Padawan's binds.
There was to be no debate. Like a wounded animal, the Padawan leaped into action. He dragged up a broken branch from the muck and threw it at her. Trilla had the advantage, for obvious reasons, effortlessly avoiding the projectile. She closed the distance. The two locked together. Unwilling to be abandoned by another master, Trilla jerked her head back, slamming it into the Padawan's own. He staggered, but rallied quickly, shoving her off. He dropped, kicking her in the shin.
"Remember, the Jedi are a wounded animal. They will fight like one," The Grand Inquisitor said appraising the scene. "You cannot afford to hold anything back. Or they will kill you."
Trilla punched the Padawan in the side, and he answered in kind. Embracing the pain, Trilla screamed. "Enough!"
Her usage of the Force was as violent as she was desperate. She concocted a noose around his throat, tightening it slowly with reveling in his suffering. The pressure crushing against his windpipe as the Padawan flailed, unable to free himself. However, the exertion was too great and Trilla failed to maintain her grip. The Padawan flopped. Keen to keep her advantage, Trilla threw herself onto him, pinning him down with both her knees.
Gasping, Trilla jamming her thumbs into his empty sockets, forcing them deep into his skull. His screams rose through his sealed lips. She groaned, pushing his head below the surface of the mud. Deeper. Until he was silent, besides a few final bubbles. His body kicked and bucked in a panicked effort to get free. Trilla did not budge, her heart slamming against her breast. The world around her developed an oily sheen, vanishing into a morass of green and brown. Leaving only the sound of blood swooshing around her head. Then there was silence. A descending calm which brought her to a high mountain and granted the briefest respite from the dissenting voice in her head.
The Padawan was dead. Trilla stood, hands trembling and froze feeling the Grand Inquisitor put a controlling hand on her shoulder. "You're not finished."
"It's over."
He pointed to the center of the boy. "I want his heart."
Trilla glanced at the Grand Inquisitor, dumbfounded. "…"
"What? Hyperspace travel always gives me craving for something… spirited."
Sinking into the mud, Trilla summoned the dregs of her remaining energy and pressed her fists together at the knuckle. She bashed both hands against the Padawan's sternum. Her efforts grew wilder, more desperate as she hit him over and over. The noises coming from her throat were no longer human. Just wild grunts and whimpering moans. The bone gave. Cracking under the relentless torrent of blows. Trilla felt pieces stab into her wrists, but the pain focused her. She was almost free. Digging her fingers into the break in the sternum, she pried the rib cage open with a creak. With one hand, she yanked the heart from its meaty nest and held it above her head as the remaining blood dribbled into her hair.
Beaming with pride, the Grand Inquisitor took it from her. He inspected the heart discerningly, assessing its quality. "Exquisite. So young." He took a thoughtful bite, as one might an apple.
Still flooded with adrenaline, Trilla stood quivering anxiously. Unable to stifle the shake in her voice, she hugged herself tightly. "C-can we g-go now?"
"Of course." The Grand Inquisitor touched her back tenderly. "You have such a bright future sister. You're going to be my masterpiece."
"… Thank you for your kindness… Grand Inquisitor," she replied dully, her eyes losing what little luster remained.