Luke woke up, feeling dizzy and light-headed. The dream he had been wrenched was no less miserable than the reality he had woken up to and silently resigned himself, cold and unrelentless and with no relief to be found. As he attempted to sit up, he felt his body ache. The stiffness from sleeping for days in a spaceship had undoubtably taken its toll on him.

"Luke," the electronic voice behind him called out.

Luke sat up blearily.

"Hi, father," he said defeatedly. Whether or not this person was actually his parent, the long-lost dead brother of Uncle Owen, he had more or less accepted it. Not going along with it would do him no good.

As he stared at Darth Vader, the dark figure slowly came into focus. Luke slowly stood up and began to trudge reluctantly towards it. A hand came down to pat his head, but even that gesture felt lifeless and robotic. Luke swallowed as he stood on his tiptoes, trying to see what Vader was peering at.

"As I once tested your sister, I must now test you. This will determine if you are my true heir."

Luke swallowed. What could he do to impress this man? His best skills mostly involved fixing the pipes on a vaporator, tending to hydroponics, building sandspaceships and playing Huttball (at least, until the far more popular Get'shuk took over). He frowned. He once helped Uncle Owen butcher part of a sandwhale once, and he could race a speeder just as good as any other Tatooinean kid. But that was mostly it. Did Darth Vader want him to milk a bantha for him?

"Okay," Luke said, shivering slightly as he reminded himself that anything would be better than being put back in the carbonite. Darth Vader sneered, which knowing him could practically be a sign of approval. "What do you want me to do?"

"Simple," Darth Vader said. "You must win a game against me."

Luke blinked.

"But first, I have one condition."

"Oh, alright," he said. "Just tell me what to do, I guess."

"Give me your hand."

"Which one?" Luke asked, confused.

"The one I gave you, obviously."

Confused, Luke held out his prosthetic arm, the left one. Vader reached out and grasped it firmly with his two mechanical arms, then made a crushing motion. Luke gasped out loud, his body immediately feeling a huge wave of shock but none of the painful sensation that he would normally associate with such damage. When Vader let go, he could see the circuits and wiring sticking out from beneath bits of peeled back synthskin. Bolts and pieces of alloy spilled from it. Luke stared up at Vader, unable to keep himself from breathing heavily.

"Father-" Luke gasped for air, his right arm trembling as it desperately clutched the destroyed remains of his prosthetic arm. "I don't...I..."

"You agreed to my condition, Luke," Vader said menacingly, reaching over and handing him something heavy. With horror, Luke realized it was another laser sword, just like the one he seen him use. "Now you must accept the consequences of your choice."

"But I didn't...I can't possibly..."

"You are a big boy now, Luke. You can figure this out yourself. You don't need any extra help," Vader snarled.

Luke wanted to cry. He could feel his heart pounding uncontrollably in his chest, could feel a panic attack coming on.

No Luke, don't lose your calm, he could picture Uncle Owen saying. You won't gain anything by being scared. Breathe.

"What game are we playing?" Luke sniffled, barely holding back tears.

"It is one that you likely already know," Vader replied. "I think this will be quite easy for you. Hide and sense."

With that, Vader turned and walked.

"I will look for you again, come sunset. Do not try anything I would not like."

Luke sobbed quietly into his sleeve. He wanted to whimper, but he knew that it would not help his case. How could the true heir to Vader react with such a display of weakness? He needed to strengthen his determination.

The sun set slowly on Mustafar, bathing the sky in its characteristic red and golden light, and making no difference regarding the perpetual blazing heat. Perhaps it was just an effect of having grown up on Tatooine, but Luke could not help but feel uneasy. On his home planet the twin suns always followed each other and rose or fell together. With only one sun in the sky, everything felt incomplete and wrong. He closed his eyes and willed it to set a bit slowly, even though he knew his wish to be futile.

As it finally lowered itself below the horizon, Luke couldn't help but find himself wishing for it to go by faster. Or perhaps slower. But it just made sense to him that he would rather have this ordeal over and done with already.

"We will play three rounds. First, you must hide while I search for you. Then, in the second game you will seek me out. On the third round, we will seek each other. If you manage to find me, you win. If you can hide yourself successfully from me, you will win again. If you manage to win even once, I will declare you as my heir and grant you all the glory of the Empire. However, if you lose...then I will take more than just an arm from you."

Luke frowned. "But who is hiding during the third round?"

"Both of us. Or neither of us," Vader replied. "All you need to declare your victory is find me before I find you."

"How is that any different?"

"You will know the difference."

A chill ran down Luke's spine. "But how will I know that I've found you?"

"I cannot tell you that answer," Vader said coldly. "All I can say is, when one of us finds each other, we must use this..." He pulled out his own laser sword, flashing its red light right into Luke's face, "And cut off a piece of the other opponent. That will determine who is the finder and who has been found."

"But you have two arms!" Luke found himself protesting. "What if I find you, but you end up cutting me first? I'm not as strong as you are!"

"Do not make excuses Luke, they are unbecoming of you," Vader snarled. "To make matters simpler, I will limit each round to three hundred clicks. No shorter, no longer."

Luke wanted to cry out.

"Patience. I will leave you with this timer," Vader unceremoniously handed him a small metal chrono. Luke bit his lip, trying to steel himself. "When it goes off the first time, you will know that you have one hundred, then fifty, then ten clicks. When it goes off for the last time, your time is up."

Luke breathed shakily, trying not to drop the chronometer. "Where are we supposed to go?" he asked quietly. At the farm, Uncle Owen had told him that the vaporators were absolutely off-limits, just because of how dangerous they could be if a kid accidentally fell into one. Hiding in them was absolutely forbidden. "What places am I allowed to hide in?"

Vader smiled malevolently.

"Anywhere."

Another chill ran down Luke's spine. He gripped the shiny metal chrono tightly in his remaining hand, fingers trembling.

"But I won't be able to find you."

"You will just have to guess."

Luke did not like the sound of that.

"The game begins now."

Luke turned and sprinted away madly with all the strength in his legs.

Reva quietly accepted the small bowl of liquid that was handed to her. When she raised it to her mouth and tipped it over her tongue, she almost recoiled from the strong taste. It was blackmelon milk, a precious resource that surely any other proper Sandperson would have greatly appreciated. But to her, it only tasted of bitterness.

She tried not to spit it back up as she listened to A'Yark make a long speech about clan unity and legacies while clad in her best and most grandiose-looking Chieftain gear. Somehow, the ceremonial clothes made her look two heads taller and much more intimidating than when they had met in her private quarters. She could see now why many people would think their Chieftain was not a woman. She waited for A'Yark to remove her own mask and join the other candidates, but instead she simply retired, flanked by two security guards. Reva sighed. Perhaps there was a certain power in keeping her identity fully secret. If you wanted to plan an assassination on her, you wouldn't even know who to truly kill.

Speaking of killing someone, she had personally experienced the personal honor of meeting her future sponsors and did not feel particularly pleased whatsoever by it. Right during the crack of dawn, before the ceremony, A'Yark had instructed her to meet with two pale-faced people wearing strange company-issued drab-looking CMC uniforms. They had introduced themselves as Thorden and Arihnda, and between the two of them there was not enough brains to rub together. It took her less than five seconds to recognize them as Imperial officers pretending to belong to some unrelated mining company. She only hoped that with her veils and heavy makeup, neither of them could recognize her as Darth Vader's former Grand Inquisitor.

"This planet is quite quaint," Arihnda said, a trace of an arrogant smirk lurking at the corner of her mouth at all times. It made Reva want to reach out and punch it off of her. "I'm an inhabitant of the Outer Rim myself, but I have never been this way before. How do you deal with this hot weather?"

The grip on Reva's right arm tightened, and she took a deep breath. If she didn't keep her composure, A'Yark would gut her right afterwards. "We do our best with what we can," she said in a polite tone.

Arihnda harrumped. "I've never seen a phrik mine before," she said suddenly. "My father owns a doonium mine. Are they at all similar?" Thorden cast her a displeased look. "What? I'm simply curious," she protested. "I'm allowed to ask questions, aren't I?"

Thorden coughed.

"We would like to inspect the mines as soon as possible. When do you think this would be possible?" Thorden asked, staring blankly at her as if he was really looking at something past her. Reva gritted her teeth.

"We can grant you access as soon as the ceremony has concluded," she said monotonously, parroting the same words A'Yark had drilled into her.

Arihnda snorted. "Must we really wait so long?"

"It is a very important ceremony to us."

The sharp black-haired woman's eyes glinted greedily. "Can we see it?"

"No. It is not fit for outsiders' eyes," Reva responded. The other woman's shoulders fell, and she turned to glare at Thorden with displeasure.

"We will wait until the end of this ceremony, out of courtesy," he said quietly. "But once it is over, we reserve the right to inspect what is ours."

Reva curtsied, hating every single moment of it.

A she waited inside the ceremonial tent with everyone else, she felt her heart pound slightly. It felt strange, seeing multiple veiled figures convening together in the same area. This part of the Enclave was different; it was neither an earthen dwelling built out of clay, nor a subterranean cave that had been carved from sandstone rock, nor the giant utilitarian tents that could easily be moved and rebuilt elsewhere in a pinch. Although it still would be considered a tent, it was clear that this area was ceremonial - the fabric was sewn with intricate brocade patterns that could only be seen on the inside layer, and the stakes holding it up were carved out of some precious polished wood that was clearly expensive. Once they had entered the tent, the entrance was carefully resewn, as if the re-emphasize the intimacy and significance of this ceremony. After being initiated and debuting in society for the first time, none of these uli-ah would show their faces ever again, at least not until courtship or marriage. Or death.

Well. At least she would not have to deal with Thorden and Arihnda for some time. She grimaced, trying to wipe the memory of their greasy sallow faces from her mind.

Before she could finish her drink, however, she felt someone staring at her and turned around. Behind her was a scowling, displeased-looking old grey-haired woman wearing an eyepatch. Something about her appearance felt familiar. As she made to apologize, the old woman reached up and lifted the eyepatch revealing a dark red glinting jewel. It soon dawned on Reva that she was standing across from an unmasked A'Yark. "A'Yark," she started to say, but the old woman shushed her.

"Remember our deal," A'Yark growled, her voice low and raspy. Reva swallowed, staring as the red crystal in her left eye. "I don't make a habit of taking prisoners, and you certainly will not be the first."

Reva closed her eyes. Right. This was not a stupid ceremony to please K'Sharad, it was a serious business deal that would guarantee her survival in the Kumumgah. "I understand that," she said, "It's just..."

A'Yark irritably waved her hand as if to indicate that their conversation was over, then lifted her shawl from her shoulders and re-covered her face with it. Dumbfounded, Reva walked her stroll away. Without her usual mask and chieftain gear, she looked like an ordinary old woman. Someone's elderly old grandmother who needed to be helped across the road and hand-fed servings of porridge. Not the fierce, mercenary leader of an entire clan.

Reva observed the other debutantes who had unmasked themselves. Most of them had deep, tanned skin not unlike hers. They also shared large, round black eyes with thick eyebrows and heavy eyelashes. She froze, trying not to think about K'Sharad's face and how striking it had been the first time she witnessed it in person.

Hmph. I guess the Force has its favorites, she thought to herself snarkily. Although, she couldn't understand why it had given such a stunning face to such an unpleasant woman.

Mingling around the Enclave felt very strange to her. She couldn't help but feel as if everyone was staring at her, in particular a man who was standing a few feet away from her with no drink in his hand. Reva shifted uncomfortably, wondering what this person might want with her. The dark-haired man started to walk towards her, his one blue eye and other orange eye glinting dangerously. With his curly black hair and warm skin not unlike K'Sharad's, many would have called him handsome. But the gaze he directed towards Reva had no such warmth. Although she wanted nothing more than to run away before he could reach her, something about his appearance felt strangely familiar. With a jolt, she realized after seeing his tattoos that this was none other than A'Sharad Hett.

"Do I know you?" she asked, trying to feign ignorance. But it was too late.

Without missing a beat, A'Sharad responded back to her in Kumumgah.

"Of course I know who you are. You're my sister's friend."

"You mean sibling," Reva corrected him, annoyed at the prospect of K'Sharad's gender being revealed before they could even debut with their bare face. Their appointment had not even been announced yet.

A'Sharad made no move to acknowledge her correcting him.

"She often takes a liking to outsiders. That has always been her flaw...though, I suppose I can't help forgiving her. We are family after all."

"You understand Basic?"

"Of course I know it. It is my mother tongue," he smiled.

Of course, A'Yark and K'Sharad must have spoken it with him.

"I just don't speak it because I prefer not to use my colonizers' language," his gaze fell down towards the dress that K'Sharad had given her. Reva fidgeted uncomfortably. "I see my sister has been blowing her money on frivolous things again. Fortunately, they suit you quite well."

"Thank you," Reva said awkwardly.

"Did you receive a new name as well?"

"A'Yark gave me the name Ke-ra."

"How nice for you. If only I could say the same thing," he smiled.

"You're not receiving a name?"

A'Sharad shook his head. "I find this new generation of names rather...disingenuous. Many people are eager to receive new names, yet they have done nothing to deserve them. I refuse to take on a new name until I have earned it."

What a strange guy.

"You are the one that A'Yark plans to send as an envoy to the CMC, correct? I have heard your Kumumgah skills are unusually strong, but I have never been able to confirm it until now. Forgive me, but I have never met a Jedi before. The only one that is known to our tribe was Anakin Skywalker."

Reva shifted uncomfortably. "That was what she told me to do, yes. I'm just here for the ceremony to adopt a new identity, and then I'll be out of your way."

"Oh, you do not need to worry about getting in my way," A'Sharad replied in a tone that was weirdly confident. Almost too self-assured, although there were no undertones of arrogance. He simply believed in what he was saying, fully and completely.

"You don't mind that I'm integrating into your clan?

"Not at all," A'Sharad smiled, although there was no light in either of his unevenly-colored eyes. "You are not the problem. Outsiders must always come from somewhere, you just happened to turn up in our trash pile. And you seem to have cleaned up quite nicely."

The hairs on the back of Reva's neck bristled. She tightened her grip on the lightsaber she had hid inside of her robes. Not yet, though...now was not the time to strike K'Sharad's younger brother.

"Is there some confusion here about A'Yark's plans?"

"Oh no, no confusion at all. The Chieftain is always very explicit with orders. I know her very well."

Well then, what do you need to talk to me for? Reva thought irritably. Her throat began to feel parched. She wished she had a cup of water.

"I was hoping to talk to you about the CMC since A'Yark has assigned you to them. I just wanted to let you know that they will not be here for very long."

"No?" Reva asked, confused. "I thought they were setting up for a longterm partnership."

"That is what their contract entails, yes," A'Sharad nodded. "They intend to stay here for the next ten or so years, siphoning the planet of its precious minerals and sucking it dry down to the core until it has nothing left to give. And they will most likely send that corrupt imperialist murderer, Darth Vader, to finish us all off. Our bones will litter the desert, just like when the Kterskt killed off an entire tribe many years ago. I've seen this happen with many worlds across the galaxy. You are familiar with the story of the Builders, yes?"

Reva nodded. A'Sharad's upper lip curled.

"They thought too highly of themselves. They attempted to suppress the Sandpeople and remove their freedom, to make our planet an inhospitable place so we would be forced to depend on them. They wouldn't have guessed that we would adapt to the heat and the sand. If they had their way, we would have lost our stake on the planet a long time ago."

"They were colonizers."

"Yes," A'Sharad nodded. "Their ambition was their downfall."

"Their goal to control the entire Galaxy?"

"Oh, no. Their goal to replace other cultures with their own," A'Sharad said pensively. "Of course, if you force every world to change and conform, they will rebel and plot against you. But, if you grant them peace while letting them practice their own traditions...then you can achieve something much closer to the so-called galactic peace that the Empire claims to establish."

"But they are gone now, aren't they?"

"Oh, yes. They have never been heard from again," A'Sharad sucked in a breath. "Likewise, I believe the CMC's stay on our home planet will be very, very short. They do not fit in with my plan."

Reva noticed the gaffi stick tied to his side. She nodded again, more slowly this time.

"I have a tip from some unknown sources, let us just say that they are very close ones, that the CMC will off-planet soon."

Was A'Yark planning a coup against the Empire?

"Does your grandmother know about this?"

"The Chieftain knows nothing of this." A'Sharad looked Reva up and down, eyeing her as if she was some piece of meat that he was appraising before it could be butchered. "But if she were to find you among their lifeless corpses in a pile in the same sinksands that we dragged your wretched body from...well, I hardly think she would think twice about it."

With that, he straightened up and made to walk away. Reva opened her mouth to protest, but he did not let her.

"Good evening, Reva. I hope you enjoy the festivities while wearing my clothes and speaking my language."

She glared at his back as he walked away.

As the debutantes began to line up in preparation for their big dance, Reva felt herself growing more irritable. At least when she thought K'Sharad was a man, she could fantasize about bashing his face in and making him shut up. But now that she found out she was a timid and soft-spoken woman with shiny hair that was even longer than her own? That annoyed her. There was nothing she could do, except maybe embarrass her by walking out on the ceremony. But even she wasn't that cruel.

Out of the corner of her eye, she spied a tall and handsome-looking Sandperson walking towards her. Others might have mistaken them for a man, but Reva knew better what was behind that veil. She narrowed her eyes, refusing to be fooled. As they approached her and reached forward to kiss her hand, she bowed slightly mockingly.

"How nice it is to meet you finally, Storyteller," Reva whispered.

The figure froze for a second, then recovered quickly.

"You came," K'Sharad murmured. It felt strange, hearing her voice without the grille. It sounded much better, free of distortions or vocoding. Reva began to wish tonight was not the only time she could hear it naturally. She suddenly resented the cloth covering their head.

"Take that off. Or...are you nervous to show your face after you've already seen mine?" she said boldly, hoping K'Sharad wouldn't take too much offense to her jab.

K'Sharad suddenly stood up straighter.

"Never," she hissed. A flood of relief washed over Reva. That was the annoying K'Sharad she knew. She smiled.

With that, the stranger lifted their veil, revealing a braid of silken long black hair and brown eyes that shone brighter than the ruby in A'Yark's right eye. Reva had only a second to react before K'Sharad reached forward and grasped her hand, pulling her close to her. They looked devastatingly attractive, dressed in robes made out of the same luxurious silk material as the clothes they had forced her into.

"What's wrong? Is there something on my face?"

"Nothing, I just...Why don't you have a dress, too?"

A few heads to turned to stare at them. Reva felt a small pang of embarrassment, remembering just then that she was not supposed to be speaking in Basic. But she had only just learned how to use Force Translation, and K'Sharad already understood Basic so well...

"Ah...so this is not what you were expecting."

"No, you look great. I just thought, you know...you'd be wearing something like me." Feeling awkward, Reva decided to change the subject. "What's up with your brother's eyes, by the way?"

"Huh?" K'Sharad looked confused. "What about his eyes?"

"Did something happen to them? Why are they different colors?" As soon as the questions left her mouth, Reva felt a slight tinge of regret. Maybe she was being a little too intrusive. K'Sharad might not want to dance with her if she asked her a bunch of annoying personal questions about her biological family.

K'Sharad tilted their head as if deep in thought. "What do you mean? Oh, I guess most people aren't used to him having blue eyes. When he was a child, he tried to go into the sandstorm after his mother and he got a bad case of sand blindness. A'Yark negotiated with some foreign traders to get him a set of prosthetic eyes."

"Oh," Reva blinked. "And the orange one?"

K'Sharad frowned. "What orange one?"

"You don't see...?" Maybe K'Sharad was playing a trick on her. "You know, his right eye..."

When it became apparent that K'Sharad was genuinely confused, she decided to drop it.

"Nevermind," she said. "Let's just dance."

K'Sharad nodded. "I was going to do that anyway," she said before placing her gloved hands on Reva's waist. Reva swallowed and nervously placed her hands around their neck, hoping she wasn't too clumsy. The music started. A few figures began to sway back and forth, waiting for the signal to begin.

"I hope you haven't forgotten our dance lesson," K'Sharad murmured into her ear.

"Of course not, do I look dumb to you?"

"I wouldn't have chosen you if I thought you were dumb."

With that, the first part of the dance began.

People paired off with each other, seemingly at random. The couples changed their partners constantly, reentering the dance circle and exchanging with other dance pairs. Reva observed them out of the corner of her eye, trying to memorize the movements they did when beckoning a new person to join them or to switch. However K'Sharad kept thwarting her attempts by grabbing her waist and spinning her around each time she seemed to get closer to memorizing the sequences.

"You're not paying attention," K'Sharad observed, moving their hand further up her back so they could get a better grip.

"I'm trying to see what I need to do if we swap," Reva replied, craning her neck sideways.

"Now why would you want to know that?"

Suddenly Reva felt herself being pulled back and swirled around. She felt dizzier. This was much, much more complicated than sparring together. "There's no need for that," K'Sharad said while pulling her in tightly. Reva decided not to question it anymore.

"So...you're the Storyteller now, huh?" she asked boldly. "What are you going to do?"

"Sort of," K'Sharad, spinning them back around and reversing the direction. Reva noticed that as they did so, the rest of the partners also switched the direction of the dance circle. "I'm not officially the Storyteller. Not until the end of the ceremony when the current Storyteller relinquishes her position, at least." They nodded towards a woman sitting down in a corner surrounded by other elders, dressed in similar robes but with her face still covered. Reva blinked. Presumably, she would likely unveil her face at the end of the ceremony - at the same time that K'Sharad covered hers, seemingly permanently.

"Are you looking forward to it?"

"What do you mean?"

"Aren't you...happy about it?" Reva asked, looking them directly in the eyes. "This is what you've wanted your whole life, right? Your dream is finally coming true," she said bittersweetly.

When she had become Inquisitor, it had been a relief off her shoulders. It was the position that she worked for so hard, that Trilla had encouraged her to aspire towards. The end of being an underling, of being kicked around and spat at by everyone else for being a gutter rat. But her life hadn't really changed. Only, now she was the one that got to do that towards others. But she hadn't stopped getting trodden underfoot by her siblings.

K'Sharad's eyebrows contorted slightly. "Of course I'm happy about it. This is what A'Yark and I both wanted."

Reva raised an eyebrow quizzically. K'Sharad quickly spun them around again, refusing to meet her eyes.

"What are you going to do when you've officially received the title? Lead the clan?"

"That's the job of the Chieftain. I am not involved in politics."

"But the Storyteller is important, right? You help to select the next Chieftain. That's a political position."

"Storytellers are neutral," K'Sharad narrowed their eyes. "We serve as historians, to share the stories of each generation. That is our duty. Most likely the Chieftain will appoint their successor."

"Then who will become the next Chieftain?"

"Anyone can be Chieftain."

"But not under A'Yark's watch, correct? It'll probably be someone else from within the family, like your brother A'Sharad?"

The crease in K'Sharad's brow worsened. "If that is the outcome, then I will accept it."

"But you don't want to give him the title. You think he's unfit for the position."

"I am neutral."

Reva narrowed her eyes back at them. "Is that what you really believe, or just what you want to tell yourself? Your brother just told me that if I work with the CMC, he'll kill me too. He hates outsiders and doesn't think there's a place for them in this clan."

K'Sharad's eyes darkened. "He wouldn't."

"But he could," Reva insisted. "If he comes into power."

K'Sharad closed their eyes.

"You don't approve of A'Yark's connections with the CMC, do you?"

"I don't approve or disapprove."

"There's no way they plan on just peacefully gathering phrik from Tatooine and leaving," Reva stepped closer, forcing K'Sharad to take a step back. "I know how the Empire works. They'll tell you to be good, and just cooperate, that you can keep your life afterwards if you just give them what they want. But they don't. They're double-crossing bastards. Surely A'Yark knows this, too. She's not naive enough to blindly trust them."

"She doesn't-" K'Sharad's gaze fell. "She just wants to protect Tatooine. As long as we are safe, that's all that matters."

"And I'm telling you, none of you will be. That's how this always ends."

K'Sharad opened their mouth to say something, but just then someone tapped them on the shoulder.

"Lady Storyteller. It is time for your initiation."

K'Sharad relented. Reva wanted to seize their hand and grip it tighter, but they let go.

"Please excuse me," K'Sharad said quickly before turning and walking away.

Reva opened her mouth, about to say something, but the other uli-ah staring at her made her avert her gaze. She backed away, feeling embarrassed.

What can I do? A'Sharad is right. I'm just a meddling outsider trying to insert myself into other's problems.

Reva pushed past the several spinning couples, trying not to let tears fall from her eyes. She raised her arm to wipe them off on her sleeve, but realized the embroidered sleeve was too beautiful and expensive-looking. Frustrated, she let it drop back to her side and walked away. She felt a warm drop trickle down her face and did her best to resist touching her face with her hands. She decided to make her way towards the exit, walking past a long table covered in various fragrant treats and delicacies. The scents that emanated from it were mouth-watering, but Reva ignored it and pushed forwards. Someone holding a tray of smoking goblets tapped her on the shoulder and tried to offer her a drink, but she declined.

Why did she care if others took her seriously or not? It probably didn't even matter anyway. She was just wasting her time. Reva tried to think back on her time in the Inquisitorial Squad. Back then, she had failed to integrate into them as well. But at least she knew that she was deserving of the position back then. She had trained for so long and worked so hard that by then she knew that she was just as good as the others. Even if they still shunned her. Here, well...she had no business sticking around anyway.

Someone bumped into her and caused her to stumble and nearly lose her balance. As she looked up at the person who'd bumped into her, they made brief eye contact with her. Although they were dressed from head to toe in the same veiled clothing as the others, they had strikingly pale blue eyes. Before Reva could open her mouth to say something, they cast her a dirty look and stomped away. Reva frowned. Maybe she really ought to leave, and soon. The other uli-ah were dancing, socializing with each other, or doing other things that did not involve her at all. She did not turn back to see if K'Sharad was being announced as the new Storyteller. She was too tired to care anymore, and she could feel a slightly cool breeze coming from the east side. It appeared that the entrance was no longer sewn shut, and now that the sun had set people were given the option to come and go from the festivities as they pleased.

Right next to the exit of the tent was a group of people that lingered together whispering to each other in some dialect of Kumumgah she couldn't understand.

Hopefully they let me through without asking any questions, she thought nervously.

When the group saw her approach, they smiled at her awkwardly. One of them walked over to her and cleared her throat. Reva braced herself, hoping they wouldn't be too displeased with her.

"You look beautiful," the woman told her in heavily-accented Basic. The other uli-ah nodded enthusiastically and grinned at her as if to convey a message they didn't know how to translate into another language. Reva blinked, feeling her face grow warm. The woman gestured awkwardly, pointing at her clothes. "The dress...looks very good," she exclaimed. "Color is nice with you." She smiled again, her eyes shining bright and kindly.

"Thank you," she stammered back. The person smiled and bowed her head slightly before stepping back to get out of her way.

They're so nice, Reva thought to herself guiltily. Not at all like the rando who bumped into me.

She thanked them again quietly, weaving her way closer and closer to the exit. When she reached forward and stuck her hand into it, the flaps opened without even trying to push them apart. The wind blew on her face, taking away some of the sweat from it.

Reva didn't even think twice before walking out.

Outside, the sun was setting. Enough time had passed that it was already evening. She sighed a took a deep breath, looking at the dunes where the wind had already started to pick up sand and blow it away in a hazy yellow cloud. On the horizon, she could see the twin suns casting various pinks, oranges and reds across the sky. It looked calm and inviting. She walked forwards, allowing the breeze to lift her heavy clothing and immerse her in its smoky sweetness. Tatooine was singing to her.

She continued walking forwards, slowly dropping removing pieces of her clothing. First went the veil, then the outer robes, then the other fancy fastenings and shoes and skirts. One by one, she folded them up carefully and placed them in a pile next to her. Practically clad in just her regular civilian clothes, Reva sighed and sat down on the gray sands, allowing her weight to sink into them. The cool soft sand felt like a relief on her tired hands and feet.

Best to leave before the sun rises again, she thought to herself. That way, I can avoid an awkward conversation. It's probably for the better, anyway.

As much as she'd like to pretend she had always meant to integrate with them, there was a reason she had worn her other clothes underneath the ceremonial clothes all along. Because she knew, before even stepping a foot inside, that she was always meant to leave.

I'm just the gutter rat, she thought to herself bitterly. Not welcome one place or another, but constantly on the search for a new one. This is just another temporary state of being.

Reva sat there for quite some time, watching as the suns moved together in the sky then dipped under the horizon, leaving a perfect purple and blue evening sky. She reached up to remove the last piece of her outfit, the japoor necklace that K'Sharad had given her, then froze. Unlike the clothes, which had felt like an extravagant and unearned gift, the necklace felt more special. Something about it was so...intimate.

Reva frowned. Something was carved onto the bleached ivory wood. She clasped the necklace carefully and held it up to the moonlight, trying to decipher the engravings. Strange hieroglyphics that she didn't understand. Words? Pictures? Drawings?

Oh, I'm such a terrible person...

She wished so badly that she could ask K'Sharad what they meant.

Feeling somewhat guilty, she put the pendant back around her neck. She may not feel right wearing the clothes, but this was different. It was a gift from a friend.

Reva stood up, feeling conflicted. Maybe she was wrong to walk away. Maybe, underneath all the veils, and mysterious customs, and cultural divides...the Kumumgah had some special soft spot for her. Who knew? Not everyone thought the same as A'Sharad, surely, where everyone was a potential enemy. A'Yark's father had raised and welcomed a human before, hadn't he? He had found K'Sheek, freed her and made her one of his people. And then, A'Yark had raised both of K'Sheek's children, treating K'Sharad and A'Sharad as if they were no different from the rest. They were practically her sons. Even after K'Sheek had died, she still thought of her as a sister and remained loyal enough to her to keep her bantha around.

Reva turned back, suddenly filled with a rush of urgency. She had to start walking back. But the ceremonial tent was so far, and it was late. How would she find them again? Should she swallow her pride and call out? Maybe K'Sharad would hear her and recognize her terrible Kumumgah. She might be mad at her, but from what she could tell, she would always come to her rescue. She had learned this already, after fighting the Krayt dragon with her in the hidden phrik caves. She opened her mouth to call out, wanting to yell K'Sharad's name.

A hand clamped over her lips, immediately silencing her. Reva struggled, too shocked to react properly.

"That's enough of that," a cold voice hissed to her in Basic.

That was all she remembered before her body was suddenly filled with a painful sensation and the whole world went black.

As he ran, Luke tried to frantically think of places he could hide. Behind the stairs seemed like a good idea, but it was far too easy. In all the dark and sequestered places that he passed, he tried not to think about Darth Vader's lurking shadow reaching out and grabbing him. A part of him wanted to slow down, but the primal fear wouldn't let him stop moving his legs.

On and on he ran, breathlessly panting. All he could concentrate was the infinite darkness that lay before him. His lightsaber cast an eerie glow in front of him as he tried to hold it before him, desperately scrambling to find his bearings. As he ran through countless doors, he began to forget himself in the rush of adrenaline.

"Luke." A voice came from what felt like directly behind him, causing him to panic. "You cannot outrun me. I will always catch up to you eventually."

He felt the ghost of fingers on his upper arm and immediately jolted away.

As he continued to run, every few minutes or so he heard the sound of rhythmic, mechanical stomping from behind him. No matter how many times he changed directions or tried to avoid it, he could always hear it in the back of his mind, never slowing down, never changing.

Thud, thud, thud thud.

Luke gasped and took a deep breath, trying to force air into his lungs. Thud, thud, thud thud. Vader never changed his pace, although he did not seem to feel a need to. No matter what, he was sure he would find him anyway.

He's really going to kill me, Luke wanted to cry out. But there was no time for that.

Almost breaking down in tears, Luke turned and ran into a small storage room that was mostly full of junk. Quickly, he searched for a spot and crammed himself in between some storage crates breathing heavily. He suddenly remembered the silver chrono that Vader had given him. Taking it out, he noticed that already fifty clicks had gone by. There was now less than fifty clicks left, and they were going down fast. Panicking, he shoved himself into a corner and waited. He listened with bated breath as the stomping noise passed close to the room then slowly got quieter and more distant.

Five clicks went by. Then ten.

Maybe he won't show up just yet?

Fifteen clicks down. Thirty-five more to go.

What if he does come in and kill me?

Sixteen, seventeen, eighteen.

The chrono continued on, unaware that while he held it in hands, it was really his life that was heavily dependent on those two moving hands that clicked together as if they held their own heartbeat. Luke covered his face, not wanting to even look at it.

Nineteen, twenty, twenty-one. The longer it went on, the worse it felt. Any moment now, Vader would burst through that door and end his misery. Or maybe he'd do something even crueler, like forcing his med droid to heal him so he couldn't die but forced him to keep replaying the same game with him. Again and again until he won, or lost his mind, or became something like him. Or worse.

He wouldn't do something like that, would he?

While he was worrying himself over it, already another four clicks had gone by. Twenty-two, twenty-three, twenty-four, twenty-five. Now only ten more seconds and he would win the game.

What if he actually won, just by hiding quietly and not doing anything? That would be the ideal outcome, wouldn't it?

Luke thought to himself. What would he do if he won, and Vader let him do whatever he wanted?

"I want to go back home to Uncle Owen and Aunty Beru," Luke mumbled sadly under his breath.

Oh, but don't you want to know more, Luke? A voice whispered to him. Luke shook his head.

I don't want to know anything else, he insisted. Not if it has anything to do with him.

The voice would not let go. But if you win, you can ask him anything you want. Anything about Uncle Owen's past. What he used to be like during those missing years he refuses to talk about. You can ask him about your mother, and your sister, and what happened to them...

Luke felt his skin crawl.

No, he fired back. I don't want to know.

Not even about Leia?

Luke felt a hard lump in his throat.

He wanted so badly to be good. He wanted to bury the darkness in his heart, to resist the temptation. But the most selfish part of him could not resist wanting to know more about the brown-haired little girl. How she was born on the same day as him, why they were so similar, how they were separated and forced to grow apart from each other if they were really twins like Uncle Owen said.

I'm sorry, he thought guiltily. I'm sorry Uncle Owen. I can't be a good boy like you said. I'm not even a good son.

Just then, he heard a loud slamming noise and felt a strong grip on his hand before a bright red light filled his entire view. Luke opened his mouth to scream, but no sound came out. Instead he sobbed, begging him incoherently for mercy, crying out for someone he didn't even know.

"Father," he blubbered. "Father, father please...Father no..."

All he registered was the burning, hot sensation of a lightsaber dangerously close to his face before Vader reached back and slashed it violently. He felt something fall on his face, and realized that Vader had cut the smallest part of his hair off his head.

"I win," Vader said simply. "Now it is your turn."

Luke sobbed.