Chapter 42
Deep orange light spreads out against the sky over Zonama as the sun rises on the second day after the tumultuous procedure to heal Anhiel. Commander Sun approaches the door to the Admiral’s quarters, dressed in her uniform and carrying a tray with food and a potion from Thea. After a few moments of hesitation, she keys the door open and steps in to see Joash sitting at the small table with Anhiel laying on the bed staring straight up. Her irritation at the situation is palpable in the air and the Force. Softly, Sun walks to the table and sets the tray down before addressing Joash softly, “I am here to relieve you, Master Joash. Anything I should be aware of?” Joash gruffs and chuckles slightly, “She is in a particularly foul mood today. Perhaps you can get her to lighten up.” Without elaborating more, Joash rises and bows towards Anhiel before exiting the room. Sheepishly, Sun addresses the older woman, “Ma’am, I have brought some food and a tonic that Thea says will help in restoring Force energy.” Many moments of cold silence hang in the air before Anhiel speaks dryly, and with a slightly immature tone “I will eat and take this tonic if you take me out of this room for a bit.” Sun sighs, rubbing her forehead as she thinks until she nods reluctantly, mustering the most commanding tone she could, “Very well, but only if you go in your chair and do not cause trouble when it is time to return. Thea has said your body has been severely weakened until your affinity with the Force has returned to normal.” Not particularly happy with being patronized by a Padawan, Anhiel sighs and sits up but groans halfway before laying back.
Sun is at her side in an instant, supporting the woman’s back with her left hand and her right grabs hold of Anhiel’s left. Gently she lifts her Grandmaster into an upright position, where she rests for a moment before being supported into a standing position. The pair moves gently towards the table and Anhiel settles down on one of the seats. Sun uncovers the food and sets the tonic in front of Anhiel before taking a seat herself. Her eyes watched the other woman carefully, anxiety rising somewhat as it was her responsibility at the moment to care for the most important person in their group. After Anhiel begins to eat and consume the tonic, Sun rises and moves to a patch of the metal wall near the entrance to the refresher. After touching the keypad, a door recedes then slides to the side revealing a wardrobe which Sun scans shortly before retrieving some items. Holding up what she picked, the Padawan asks, “Are these suitable?” Anhiel finishes the tonic and sets the cup down to look up, examining the light tan casual shirt and dark green pants. She nods, then looks at the plate of food she only had a couple bites of. Sun smiles as she arrives at the table, “I think the tonic is enough for now, Ma’am. Come, I’ll help you change, then we will get some fresh air.” Reluctantly, the Admiral allows herself to be helped up and disrobed by the young woman. While her physical being was not damaged, her affinity to the Force was greatly impacted by the ritual and she felt profound weakness.
A couple minutes later, Anhiel gently settled into a medical chair hovering a few inches off the ground. Sun stands behind and begins to push forward out of the open door. The late afternoon sun bathed the compound in a warm light while the pair of women navigated through the area. Those that pass stop and salute to the wounded Admiral and offer wishes of a speedy recovery. Facing forward, Anhiel states flatly, “Let’s go to the overlook. I would like some quiet.” Sun sighs at the request but acquiesces, responding, “Yes master.” It takes nearly twenty minutes to arrive at the outlook nearby to the compound with Sun taking her time maneuvering the chair over the somewhat tumultuous terrain. As they stop, both women survey the area from their raised vantage point. Along the edge of the compound can be seen the many trees toppled by Anhiel’s outburst during the ritual. Neither speaks for several minutes and the silence is eventually cut by the Grandmaster as she asks the Padawan in a casual tone, “Have you learned anything from the sabers I gave you?” Somewhat surprised by the sudden question, Sun responds, “Yes ma’am. One possessed a focusing lens that appears to be so polished it greatly enhances control of the plasma that forms the blade. I believe with some additional components and modifications, it would allow for precise manipulation of a saber’s blade, such as length and width.” Anhiel leans back in her chair, “I have heard of such capabilities but never have seen it in use before. I look forward to seeing what you produce.” Sun smiles, then asks a question that had been occupying her thoughts recently, “Where do red kyber crystals come from? I have not been able to find any information on them.” The older Jedi looks out over the landscape as she answers, “They are not fully natural, only created by Sith. A technique known as bleeding is used to change natural crystals into the red ones wielded by most Sith” She pauses and before she can continue, Sun asks quickly, “How does bleeding work?” With a glance backwards, Anhiel responds, “A Force user spends hours, sometimes days pouring their deepest emotions into the crystal. In doing so, its natural architecture is warped as the crystal is bent to the will of the wielder, resulting in the typical crimson red color. Those who go too far or do not possess great enough control will destroy the crystal. The most potent are brought just to the edge of destruction; trapped in a never ending loop of torture.”
Stunned, Sun is unable to formulate a follow up thought or question and Anhiel continues, “I have made one such crystal myself.” The nonchalant statement snaps the Padawan out of her thoughts and she reflexively asks, “When was that?” Anhiel exhales deeply before recounting the memory, “It was shortly after losing Dulci. I had her saber with me when I came here and during one of my meditations I brought the crystal from her weapon. By the end the crystal was a deeper red than a sea of blood.” Neither follows up the statement and they sit quietly with a slight breeze moving over them. Anhiel closes her eyes and begins to open herself to the Force. The usual sensation of power is mostly absent though, as though all her senses are blinded and a great blockage exists between her and the Force. Once she notices what is going on, Sun jumps up and scolds the Master, “Master, you cannot push yourself yet. Thea said attempts to channel the Force too soon could have irreparable repercussions.” Anhiel sighs, nodding in defeat, “You are right, Sun. I have had enough air for today. Let us return before Thea and Athin send a platoon in search of us.” The Padawan nods and moves to begin maneuvering the chair, but stops at hearing Anhiel’s voice once more, “And thank you, Sun….for this.” Sun smiles brightly as she starts to turn the chair, “No, thank you for your wisdom, Ma’am.” Twenty minutes pass before they step into the compound once more, immediately becoming aware of a presence that seeds waves of worry and anger in equal parts through the Force as the origin zeroes in on the pair. Surprised, Sun calls out timidly, “H…Hi Athin. We were just heading back to her room.”
Anhiel crosses her arms and looks off to the left with an indignant expression, offering no assistance to her Padawan escort. Athin is unable to come up with words as he stops, looking at the injured woman then Sun who smiles sheepishly with a slight shrug added, “She agreed to eat and take the tonic if we went out for a bit.” The man sighs deeply and rubs his forehead, “She has never refused to thus far, Miss Veruna.” All stages of understanding fall across the young woman’s features as she processes the implications of the statement until she looks down at the High Admiral, astonished, “You tricked me?” With a smirk, Anhiel chuckles then adds, “Know your enemy, Padawan. When you truly know your enemy, you will love them and only then can you truly destroy them.” Completely bewildered now, Sun is unable to come up with a response and merely steps back as Athin offers to take over for the afternoon. Anhiel sighs, then glances back at Athin as he takes his place, “I need Rend to retrieve something from the Shadow Redeemer.” The pair begin to move forward with Athin adding, “I will ask him to come by when his meetings are over.” Satisfied, Anhiel leans back in the chair and allows herself to be whisked back to what has become her temporary prison.
Hours later as the light fades past the horizon, Padawan Veruna steps into the ancient temple with its overgrown stone. Black robes blend nearly seamlessly with the dark corners of the temple as she navigates to the chamber at its center. Upon arriving, she kneels at the center of the room, pulling the two red crystals acquired from the Sith sabers she was gifted. One is placed just in front and the other to her side. Long, steady breaths fill the chamber as the woman’s heart rate begins to slow while she slips into meditation, focussing on the crystal before her. Visceral pain seethes from crystal, a result of the rage and hate of its creator; its torment continuing in perpetuity. Slowly, Sun expands her presence towards the object, recoiling slightly when initial contact is made. After gathering her nerve, she presses forward once more, engulfing the crystal in her presence. The emotions emitted by the crystal are overwhelming, putting the young Padawan on the back foot as she attempts to impart a feeling of peace upon it. Waves ebb and flow, back and forth between the entities as opposing ideologies clash. Lines form on Sun’s face as she grimaces in resistance and with a large push, overwhelms the crystal causing it to shatter into dust.
Heavy breaths from exertion echo in the chamber as Sun catches her breath. The remnants of the crystal cover the ground before her and scorch marks radiate out from where it had sat. While frustrated, the analytical mind takes over as the event replays in her mind, “Too forceful…perhaps?” A familiar presence brushes against her as the ancient being observes her experiment but remains silent. With her left hand, Sun moves the second crystal before her and repeats the process. The harshness of the feelings emitted by the crystal were less overwhelming and she pressed forward methodically with feelings of peace. An hour passes, with each minute she pushes forward a hair more, willing the feelings of pain, rage and despair to drain away from the crystal. In a flash, an image forms in the Force filling the space between Sun and the crystal. High pitch screams from several young children pierce the space as a small maroon skinned Twi'lek female, no older than ten standard years, cowers in the corner trying to cover her ears. The image flashes forward showing that the young girl is now the victim of a storm of lightning that was tormenting the other children minutes prior. Her master is the source of her reward for refusing to partake in the torture of the others. She is left on the floor curled in a ball with smoke rising from her charred clothes when another young Twi'lek with green skin moves to comfort her. Another instant passes and with it the image ages several years. Both Twi’leks are now well into their teenage years. Droid parts are strewn about on the ground as the final battle droid falls. With smiles, the pair bump the fists that grip their lightsabers, each a similar color to the skin of the wielder’s friend.
Vivid emotions of pain and sorrow start to push staunchly against Sun’s attempts to bring peace. Exhaustion is beginning to set in as the young woman thinks “Just…a little…more.” A final vision arises, the red skinned Twi’lek, no more than twenty years old now stands over her wounded friend. Her green blade hums steadily as dark words seep into her mind from her dark master nearby, “Take what is yours. Her’s is the path of the weak. Your’s is the path to power; you need only strike down this affliction.” The conflict within the woman is great as she hesitates but with a growl mixed with a scream of pain, her saber lashes out, ending the other’s life. In the temple, the opposing forces reach critical mass and the crystal shines bright before exploding more violently than the previous had. The shockwave knocks Sun back a couple meters, knocking the wind out of her. Gasping for breath, the Padawan remains on the ground shocked, “I thought I was about to succeed.” Sekot’s presence brushes against her once more, ensuring she is uninjured but continues to remain silent on what had happened. While perplexed, Sun’s thoughts fall back to the two failed attempts to heal the crystals and frustration takes over. She remains on the floor for many minutes, breathing and heart rate gradually slowing until she rises and dusts off her robes before departing the temple dejectedly. The night sky is particularly dark and the thrusters of the approaching transport stand out against the abyss, a result of the new moon. Commander Veruna merely nods to indicate she is ready to depart then settles down into an open seat, hanging her head in defeat. Both attempts at healing the crystals replayed over and over, her body acting on autopilot so much so that the young woman nearly jumped when the door to her chambers hissed open.
Profound fatigue causes her muscles to ache as she removes the dark outer robe and hangs it just inside the door. A small mostly plain black box, save for the silver inlay that adorned the lid, glinted in the woman’s peripheral vision. Although it initially goes unnoticed, its presence is finally noted as Sun turns fully to walk towards the refresher past the desk situated along the wall. A datapad sits next to the unknown box, its screen coming on automatically as Sun approaches.
“Padawan, Grandmaster Dulcinae asked that I retrieve this box and its contents from the Shadow Redeemer and deliver it to you this evening. She also wished for the following message to be included:
‘Strength alone is not always the answer to conflict. Nor is the will to succeed sufficient on its own. One must understand the enemy they are facing to determine the most effective course of action. With true understanding comes emotions that often are difficult to process but they are essential in order to succeed. Understand this, let the Force guide you and you will find success, if it is the will of the Force.’
I do not know what the contents of this box are. However, my master repeated this same lesson to me more times than I can count and if I may be so bold, I would like to add to it. To acquiesce to the will of the Force is not to give up all control and thought. While we understand that we are but instruments of the Force’s will, the Force is a tool of ours as well and a tool is only as effective as the one who wields it. The Force will give you power and abilities to achieve what must be done but how they are implemented falls to the wielder. You must find the balance between these and learn to understand when a goal or action is not truly a part of the Force’s plan but a desire of yours. If they do not align, lightness or darkness will creep in if you continue to bend the Force to your will.
But that is enough for now. I fear I am beginning to sound too similar to Master Joash with the length of his lectures. I have no doubt you will succeed in whatever task you are currently attempting and it is clear our Grandmaster feels the same. I look forward to hearing your tale of success. May the Force be with you, Padawan.
- Rend Vega”
Abject curiosity engulfs Sun as it often does and she sets the datapad down quickly and moves to open the box. As her fingers brush the surface she stops, sensing a deep pulsating power within. Slowly, the lid is lifted back, revealing the interior of the box is swathed in black silk and at the center sits a single crystal. Its edges are jagged and the surface is a deep red color that darkens gradually towards the core, leaving the center nearly black. Unconsciously, Sun reaches out to touch the crystal with an ungloved hand. As had happened with the previous crystals, contact brought forth vivid images that whirled by, though those the Padawan saw now were even more visceral. She pulls her hand back quickly, stunned as she thinks, “Was that…Dulci?”
The image replays once more as the Padawan looks more closely at the woman she had not seen before. A deep maroon tunic clearly made of a valuable material clung tightly to a Miraluka’s frame with a deep purple robe draped over top. The woman’s height was similar to Sun; her figure not petite but neither was it inappropriate for her height. She is in shape, but beneath the tight fitting garment it is clear the muscles were not hardened by combat and possessed a supple quality. Her chest and glutes are on the tasteful side of large while the skin on her face shows a quality only seen in those with the luckiest draw from the gene pool coupled with uncompromising care. Her Miraluka face covering is jet black with shiny white lace weaving its way over the surface in an ornate pattern. Regal is the word that forms in Sun’s mind before her curious nature takes over to form an image of Dulci as portrayed in the vision and Anhiel in her white battle robes. Elegance befitting royalty on one side. On the other, power housed in a petite shell promising destruction to those unfortunate enough to become a target. Both represent beauty in their own ways.
At the moment Sun had made contact with the crystal, Anhiel sat up in bed causing Athin to look up from the datapad he had been reading at the nearby table. Events had been replaying in the woman’s mind as had happened each time she slept since the ritual but she woke prematurely as though startled. Sensing her discomfort, Athin moves quickly to the bedside and sits down, placing a hand on her leg “What is the matter, love?” Gazing forward, she responds quietly “I have not told you what I experienced during the ritual, have I?” A shake of the head is the only response received and Anhiel sighs tiredly, “I have been reliving it each time I sleep and have been struggling with….something.” Frustration tinges the end of the statement and she maintains her forward gaze, refusing to look at the man. With his right hand, Athin gently touches her chin to guide her gaze towards him. With a reassuring smile, he adds “Tell me your troubles, love. I will do what I can to help.” A look of innocence still looks to the man when expressed on his partners features but he treasured each instance. She eventually nods, relenting and placing a hand on the side of Athin’s face as she closes her eyes, “It will be easier to show you.”
Sun settles on the ground in the center of her chambers. Before her sits Dulci’s warped crystal which continues to send waves of energy throughout the space around it. Although exhausted from the prior two attempts, the Padawan’s drive to know would not allow her to rest before trying. With a deep breath, she reaches out to the object through the Force, bracing for the waves of emotion that came the moment contact was made. A rogue wave of energy and emotion engulfs the Padawan and she reflexively closes her eyes in the Force. When they open, she sees a darkness as deep as a black hole. In the distance is a light grey mist slowly beginning to form from a single point.
In Anhiel’s quarters, she and Athin’s heads are bowed slightly while her hand rests on the side of his face. The Miraluka attempts to remain composed as he sees a light grey mist slowly form amidst an overwhelming darkness. Colors and images are like nothing he had ever seen, as though his Miraluka sight had vanished and he could only view the world in the same manner as most other organics.
“Why am I walking towards it?” The thoughts are both Sun and Athin’s but yet they are not as they approach the mist without the sound of footsteps. Unsettling absent is all sound and physical feeling as though the onlookers are only passengers in a vessel. The mist turned to a light green color in a flash, eliciting mirrored thoughts, “I don’t remember crossing the distance”. A hand covered in overlapping white armor plates reaches out towards the pillowy fog. As it comes into contact with a single drop, the mist engulfs the onlookers and a scene that was foreign but felt staunchly familiar developed.
A purple saber caused the Sith below to scream in pain with each slow and deliberate motion. Joash is nearby crying out for the torment to cease but no sound is heard. Physical feeling suddenly returned with a deep, infuriating pain beginning to develop in the abdomen. The burning sensation was nearly unbearable, Athin grimacing as he puts a hand on Anhiel’s bed to steady himself; Sun cries out in anguish in her room.
The saber thrusts forward and a hatred even greater than that which had been felt up to that moment exploded. In a blurr, the saber lashes out, catching Joash by surprise as it graces his face. Before they could gather any semblance of thoughts, a small delicate and trembling hand entered into the peripheral vision of the onlookers. It was Dulci, nearly gone but reaching for them. Malice was so thick, visceral, and shamelessly felt that it was visible. Despite being on the edge of death, a soft and caring voice brings the only sound heard thus far. “It’s ok, dear.”
Sun falls forward from the pain and emotions assaulting her being. The crystal before her shines brightly and erratically. A tear falls from her eyes as she sobs through gritted teeth, “I am…so sorry…Grandmaster. Such pain, such emotion…how are you able to…continue on?” Although unable to bring herself upright, Sun continues to push her presence against the crystal. Unlike before, she does not push against the darkness and lets it swirl unimpeded.
Dulci’s hand is caught before it falls, the other reaching under her head to set it in Anhiel’s lap. Her final words would cut cleanly through the silence, “It will be ok. This is the will of the Force… I will always… Love… You.”
Deceased, Dulci is squeezed close while profound weeping ensues as the pain intensified so rapidly that blackness takes over. All was gone. No sound, no sensation, no images for minutes, perhaps hours, even days until a lone figure manifested. Dulci was no longer in pain, more beautiful than she ever was as she drifted closer. Once only millimeters from making contact she diffused into a bright white fog. The fog enveloped the onlookers and filled them with a sensation of warmth and love. Artificial light cuts in bringing as eyes opened and after a few moments of adjustment, Athin’s worried visage can be seen.
Sun thinks to herself as she echoes the thoughts through the Force towards the crystal, “You are not to blame for what happened. She was not ashamed of you either. She only wished for you to not suffer anymore. Nor should you feel shame for continuing your existence and finding a new source of happiness. To move on is not forgetting. She will always be with you in the Force.” The thoughts repeat, over and over and over again as Sun presses against the crystal more deeply. Red light fills the room as the crystal flares against the Padawan, causing her to grit her teeth while holding her ground until her strength is exhausted and she collapses.
Athin slowly recovers from the extreme emotions, pain and general exertion brought on by the vision. He pants for nearly a minute before looking up to Anhiel with utter shock after feeling the true nature of all she had experienced. Without a word he pulled her into a tight embrace, burying her face into his chest and refusing to let her go.
On the cold ground, Sun’s eyes flutter open slowly and the room is blurry. Several seconds pass as her eyes focus and her gaze falls upon the crystal before her. It now pulses steadily with an overall deep orange color and a crimson red at the very center. She does not move and only stares at the crystal while her vision becomes blurry again from the tears of joy that are forming as a result of her success.