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Way of the Vornskr


Mordresh

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Prelude

 

Lord Sciriato watched the attack on the Talz town from on top his tauntaun. A group of Imperial troops was ordered to aggravate the aliens before feigning a retreat. Judging from the amount of angry Talz storming after them, they had exceeded expectations for the first part.

 

The Sith and a handful of imperials were to the North of the Village. The group was mounted on Tauntaun waiting to charge. Sciriato activated his saber and pointed it at the aliens. He kicked his heels into the tauntaun and the animal burst forward, kicking up snow as it led the charge.

 

The retreating group of Imperials were at the trenches they had dug the night before. After they jumped down, they reopened fire from their icy cover.

 

The mounted troopers had one hand on their reigns, the other on their rifles as they rode forward. It was no easy feat to aim while riding. But the Imperials had been training ever since they set out upon the frozen wasteland. Every few seconds they managed to loosen a well aimed salvo at the Talz.

 

Most of the Talz had already fallen. The snow to the West of their village was turning red with blood. The aliens that remained were looking for elevations in the snow to hide behind, finding none. They turned to flee back to the village when the mounted forces finally reached them.

 

The Sith started hacking left and right as he rode into them. The battle was over several seconds later.

 

 

***

 

 

Imperial troops were dragging the remaining aliens out of their huts. Those that resisted got mowed down, the rest were gathered and forced to their knees. Lord Sciriato was walking with a group of four Imperials alongside him. “Make an inventory, divide rations and shelter among our men,” he ordered. “We’ll wait out the snowstorm here before we continue.”

 

A tall Zabrak, dressed in black armour, walked up to the Sith. He was shoving forward one of the captives. “This one says he has seen a human woman,” the man said. Lord Sciriato tilted his head. “Ask him what she looked like,” he commanded. The Zabrak obeyed and waited for a response. “He says all humans look the same, short and pink.”

 

It had been five years since Than’so had lost contact with his older sister. Her disappearance happened just before the Eternal Empire had invaded. During the war he had been forced to send out informants to look in his stead.

 

But the Sith Empire had been broken and the piece that had splintered off with him had a new mission. After five years the Sith knew that he would not find his sister alive. But he would burn down anything in his path until he retrieved her body.

 

A panicked scream echoed through the village, one of the villagers’ fur had caught on fire. the giant alien was running through town in panic before one of the trooper shot him down.

 

The captured Talz made use of the distraction and charged at the scarred Sith. Sciriato did not flinch and a flash of crimson fire cut the alien’s advance short. He glanced at the Zabrak who was already turning off his saber. “Interrogate the rest of the prisoners Haresh,” he instructed, stepping over the Talz’ body. The Zabrak bowed his head. “Yes, master.”

 

 

***

 

 

Lord Sciriato frowned as he poured his apprentice and himself a cup of tea. The storm was getting closer and would wash over the village soon. He knew the huts would hold. The Talz had emigrated to Hoth a long time ago and they had learned how to deal with the weather.

 

There was something else bothering him, he could feel doubt in his apprentice. “Have I not always encouraged you to speak your mind?” Than’so started. His apprentice looked down at his tea. “One of our soldiers tried to desert last night,” he said. “Anyone is free to leave, but their supplies belongs to me. Sent him out naked into the frozen wasteland,” the lord said with a shrug.

 

Lord Sciriato took another sip from his tea, considering the matter settled. “This was a man who followed us for years,” Haresh tried again. Sciriato narrowed his eyes. “Compassion has no place on our journey,” he commented. The Zabrak shook his head. “It is not compassion, master. It is the knowledge that he would not have done this during the war. Our men want to go home.”

 

Sciriato’s face was impassive as he took another sip from his tea. The troops had sacrificed much, they had not set foot on Dromund in years. Since recently they had not even been allowed to make contact with their family or risk being found. Many did not know whether their loved ones were even still alive.

 

But joining the reformed Empire was a betrayal of the Sith philosophy. True Sith could not be subject to the Zakuul and Lord Sciriato would not join the Sith Empress.

 

Haresh looked at his master, feeling his determination grow. “It won’t be long until we are branded rebels rather than war heroes. If we return now, we will be welcomed with open arms. Let us go home, master. We can unite and buy our time before we strike.” Lord Sciriato finally shook his head. “We have had this talk," he reminded the Zabrak. "Focus on our mission,” he said. “Scouts reported a ship in a valley near the village. We will go out before the storm hits.” Haresh set his jaw in frustration and got up. “Yes, master,” he said, bowing his head low.

 

 

***

 

Strong winds kicked up the snow as the warband trekked through the frozen wasteland. The Sith was wearing a t-visor mask to protect his face from the environment. But the visor’s vision kept getting blurred by snow and ice. The Imperials stopped when they reached a frozen cliff overlooking the valley. The Sith lowered his hood and took off his helmet, looking down. It was hard to see and getting harder every second the storm got closer. Finally his eyes caught a silver shimmer.

 

He was about to point it out when he sensed a threat at the edge of his awareness. The Sith spun, saber in hand and deflecting a blaster shot. His troops glanced at each other in a moment of doubt, then opened fire.

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The Castle lands

 

Ranania was sitting in her family’s garden. Her blonde hair had spun in two buns over her ears, a classical Alderaanian style. She had a book on her lap but her attention was drawn to a small caterpillar. the bug was hanging from a leaf, spinning itself into a cocoon. The process was fascinating to watch. A warm voice snapped her out of her trance and back to the real world. “Rain, are you ready?” her father asked. She nodded and was about to get up when her father held up a hand to stop her.

 

“You looked perfect the way you were, sitting there in the sunlight,” he said with a smile. Though he moved his hand to free a curly lock of blonde hair from behind her ear. Ranania nodded thoughtfully. Her mother had taught her that appearance was everything in the castle lands. Appearance was like a book and every detail a word. Neglect the smallest fold in your shirt and you write your carelessness. Neglect to wear a gift and you shout your disfavour. Snub the smallest inclination of a head and risk a vendetta that lasts for generations.

 

The Castle Lands had seen enough vendettas. The Civil war that had taken hold of Alderaan seemed to be without end. Ranania could not remember a time before the fighting. This was the reason for their visit today. Her family had suffered during the war, losing much. Her betrothal to Duke Lucane would fix all that. The man would provide their parents with security. All it would cost them was their daughter, she reflected bitterly.

 

***

 

Duchess Caelia bowed low as she escorted Duke Lucane inside. The man had an armed escort but he had left them at the door. The Duchess had made sure every moment of the visit was meticulously planned. “Ranania cannot stop talking about you,” she said. “She is so curious about her betrothed. Every day she asks me whether you are handsome and charming.” Lucane flashed a cocky grin. “What do you tell her?” he asked. “I tell her she is very fortunate,” Caelia replied diplomatically.

 

Lucane was about to comment when he spotted Ranania through the window. “Is that her?” he asked, feigning shock. Of course the Duke had already seen a holovid of the girl, he would never have agreed to marry her otherwise. The exchange was like a play, and each participants knew their part well.

 

***

 

Ranania turned a page in her book as footsteps drew near. She looked up and acted flustered as Lucane smiled at her. “Oh,” she whispered. “Hello,” she added, getting up and bowing her head. “I apologize if I scared you, I was just captivated by your beauty, my lady,” the duke said, bowing low. Ranania used all of her willpower to avoid rolling her eyes. Instead she smiled.

 

“May I?” Lucane asked, indicating a seat next to her. She eyed the man once more before indicating her head. The man took a seat on the edge of the bench and picked up her book. “Are you reading this?” he asked in shock. The girl frowned. “No don’t take it the wrong way. ... wait you just picked a random book to impress me didn’t you?” he asked, flashing a grin. Ranania clenched her jaw and looked at the window, seeing her mother nod. “Yes, my lord,” she lied. “You caught me.” Lucane erupted in laughter as the girl fumed in frustration.

 

***

 

Ranania had screamed into a pillow after Lucane had left. He had only gotten worse after his comment on the book. It was as every sentence he spoke had a veiled insult behind it. She had been a fool to hope for more than this from an arranged marriage.

 

Her parents walked into her room, both smiling. “We are so proud of you,” her mother said. “Duke Lucane has just asked your father for your hand.” Ranania looked down, gathering her courage. “I decline,” she whispered.

 

“What was that?” her mother asked in confusion. “I do not want to marry him,” The girl said a little louder. Her parents glanced at each other and burst out in laughter. “Rain, I understand your nervosity,” her father said. “But you don’t need to worry, you will learn to love him in time.”

Ranania clenched her jaw, it was as if her parents did not hear her at all. “I do not want to marry him!” she screamed. It felt like a tremor had gone through the room. Her mother took a step forward and the girl shrunk back. “Lower your voice, you know better than this,” she said sharply. “I can’t believe you are being this selfish,” she added.

 

“Listen,” her father said, stepping between the pair. “I’m sorry that the charming handsome young duke is not up to your standards but this will save our house. So suck it up and do your duty.” Her father shook her head as the pair left. Ranania looked down then moved to sit by her window. She noticed a small crack in the glass.

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Confrontation

 

Ranania moved cautiously through Duke Lucane’s garden. She had never snuck out of her parents’ house before. But she would not sit by while her parents sold her off like a piece of cattle. She would confront Lucane and put an end to the betrothal once and for all.

 

She visibly shrunk as she passed by yet another pair of guards. The pair laughed behind her and she picked up her pace.

 

She finally found the Duke sitting on a bench. He was overlooking a training exercise. Several of his guards were holding practice swords. One of the guards was looking right at her. He was a near human with feral yellow eyes and a large scar that ran across his face. His gaze made her already tense nerves even worse.

 

“My lady, what a surprise. You are just in time for the show!” Lucane shouted. She turned her head and saw the Duke patting a spot next to him. Ranania swallowed hard and accepted the seat with a small graceful bow.

 

***

 

“This is my new Hapan,” the Duke said, pointing at the scarred man. Lucane motioned towards another man, twice the foreigner's size. “Garethe is not a fan.”

 

Ranania inhaled a startled breath as Garethe suddenly laughed. His voice was booming and enough to intimidate most. “Last chance to take back what you said, little man,” he spat. The Hapan glanced at him. “I pointed out that your technique with a sword is garbage. How will you improve if you don’t know your flaws?” The man spoke with a strange accent.

 

“Last chance!” The giant shouted again. “Do you know what the word ‘last’ means?” the foreigner replied sharply.

 

The giant shrugged. “Maybe I feel bad for you,” he said before laughing again. He took his training sword out of his sheath then charged forward with all the grace of an angry Reek.

 

Ranania shut her eyes and turned her head away. She heard a loud cracking noise. When she turned back the giant was on his knees. He had a dazed look on his paled face. Suddenly he fell forward, face down in the dirt.

 

***

 

“So you snuck out to see me?” Lucane said with a smug expression on his face. They were walking through the garden now, away from any potential eavesdroppers. “I am not surprised,” he added. Ranania nodded in slight She was going to let him down easy, no need to crush his ego.

 

“I have been thinking a lot about our match, my lord,” she started. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you either,” Lucane replied immediately.

 

Ranania frowned slightly but continued. “I believe there might be a better fit for you out there.” Lucane was grinning and shaking his head. “You are too modest, my lady. I wish you could see yourself through my eyes.” Ranania’s frown grew as she got more frustrated. “My lord, I do not think we should continue the betrothal,” she finally confessed. Lucane stopped walking.

 

He took a deep breath and Ranania was praying he wouldn’t cry. The man suddenly grabbed her arm. She yelped in shock and pain as he squeezed down and pulled her close. “Listen here you little brat,” Lucane sneered. “You are mine, you get that? You belong to me.”

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Rain

 

Water came down in a torrent as Ranania sat by the window in her room. She was watching a group of Lucane’s men patrolling the garden. The Duke had send a large group to the house as soon as she had left his estate. Her parents believed that the Duke was holding up his end of the bargain of protecting the house. But the girl knew better. They were making sure she would not run. She had become a prisoner in her own house.

 

The wedding would be in just a few months and she had never felt more frightened and angry in her life. A long sleeved dress covered the bruise Lucane had left on her arm. She shouldn’t hide it, she thought to herself. She should let people know what kind of a man her betrothed was. But for reasons she couldn’t explain she couldn’t. She shook her head and got up. Appearance was everything.

 

***

 

Yellow-eyes was in the corridor, staring out of the window. “See any snipers?” she muttered bitterly. To her surprise the man smiled and turned. “Where are you going?” he asked in his strange accent. “I’m going to see my father, is that allowed?” she glared. The man shrugged.

 

“You are angry,” he pointed out. Ranania took a deep breath and forced herself to smile. “Not at all,” she lied. The Hapan raised his eyebrows. “Don’t suppress your emotions, they are what makes you strong.” Ranania frowned slightly, unsure on how to respond. Her mother had taught her to always consider how she was perceived. Hiding her emotions had been a daily habit ever since she could remember.

 

“Look there,” the Hapan said, inclining his head towards something outside. Ranania followed the man’s gaze. Garethe was in the garden, limping through the rain. “Do you suppose he has learned his place?” The girl frowned, unsure of why the foreigner was so talkative. “I guess so,” she shrugged. The Hapan shook his head.

 

“No, don’t guess,” he instructed. “Clear your thoughts. Close your eyes.” Ranania eyed the foreigner suspiciously but did as she was told, curious. “Listen to the rain fall on the window. The footsteps of the guards outside.” The girl exhaled, there was something entrancing about the foreigner’s voice. “Now, reach out,” the man continued. “Listen to the limp walk of Garethe. Focus on him.”

 

Ranania snapped open her eyes. “What was that?” she asked. The Hapan glanced at her, his expression neutral. “I could feel something… it felt like a quiet rage…” the girl whispered. The foreigner nodded in slight. “Humbled but not broken,” he commented. “How did you do that?” she asked. “I did not do anything,” the Hapan shrugged. “You did.”

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Scream

 

Ranania had her eyes closed as she sat in her room. The rain outside had not stopped. Each drop hammered against the window, growing louder and chipping away at her concentration.

She had never tried to meditate before the Hapan had put her in the strange trance. Though the foreigner insisted he had done nothing, she knew better. She had felt and heard things that were impossible from her location.

 

The girl sighed as she opened her eyes. What good would the trance do anyway? she thought. It would do nothing to stop her betrothal. She needed a real plan, something tangible.

 

She wondered if she could convince yellow-eyes to help her escape the estate. Out of all the guards, he was the only one she had spoken to though not enough to judge his character. She had to get closer to him before asking.

 

**

 

She found yellow-eyes in the same corridor as last time, staring out of the window. She took a moment to gather herself before clearing her throat. The Hapan smiled as he turned. “Still no snipers,” he remarked. Ranania returned the smile and took a step towards him.

 

“What is your name?” she asked. The Hapan tilted his head to one side. “Scirio,” he replied. The girl nodded. “The thing you showed me yesterday, I want to try it again.” The man shrugged lightly. “I showed you how,” he said, disinterested.

 

Ranania frowned. “It doesn’t work when I do it.” Scirio glanced away. “Perhaps the problem is that you are trying to do something. Try simply being while letting your awareness drift.” The girl shook her head, this wasn’t working. She spotted Garethe outside and decided to improvise. “I want you to teach me to do what you did to him,” she tried.

 

Scirio raised his eyebrows, clearly more interested. “You want to learn how to wield a sword?” He grinned. “Yes,” he added after a moment. “It is tedious standing here all day. We’ll begin immediately.” Ranania swallowed hard, it wasn’t what she had in mind but it was something.

 

**

 

Moments later she was looking at the yellow eyed man, a training sword in her hand. “Get a feel for the weight,” he instructed. She obeyed, lifting the sword, gripping it with both her hands. “Not so tight,” the man said, tapping her blade away with his own. She frowned but adjusted her grip slightly. Scirio nodded then glanced down.

 

“Aim your feet straight ahead, as if you’re about to charge through me. Again the girl obeyed. The teacher grinned and lifted his own blade sideways. “Now strike as you step forward.”

Ranania took a step and brought her blade down on Scirio’s, barely hard enough to budge it. “No, no no,” the Hapan said, keeping his blade in the air. “Use your anger, shout at me while you charge, let me hear your warcry.”

 

Ranania frowned and let out a stifled yelp as she swung again. “Louder!” the man shouted. She tried again, increasing her volume. “Louder!” Scirio shouted again. Ranania screamed as she swung her blade.

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Sirens

 

A bead of sweat flew off Ranania’s brow as she swept her training sword to divert a strike. The Hapan had taught her it was better to redirect than block. He told her a fight was like a current, she should flow with it.

 

Scirio nodded in approval and bowed indicating the sequence had come to stop. It had been several days since she had begun her sword-training. Though she considered it just a way to get close to the Hapan, she could not help but enjoy it.

 

Going through the patterns and sequences with Scirio felt more like a dance than a fight. And there was something about expressing her anger that made her feel more in control.

 

During their first matches he would say numbers, revealing which zone on the body he would strike at. But then he had started saying false numbers to lure her into mistakes. He kept telling her to feel where the attack would come from rather than use her eyes and ears.

 

“We will do something different today,” Scirio said. He took off the beige scarf he was accustomed to wearing. Ranania raised an eyebrow as the foreigner stepped towards her. He told her to turn and then lifted the scarf in front of her eyes and started to tie it around her head. “What is this?” she asked suspiciously.

 

“Your eyes are distracting you,” the man said as he finished the knot and stepped back. “Using only your eyes, you blind yourself.”

 

“I matched every strike you threw at me,” she pointed out. “Yes,” her teacher agreed. “So far.” Ranania could sense something at the edge of her awareness. It was like a siren calling out to her without a sound. She shrunk together as the training sword struck her arm.

 

She could feel tears in her eyes though they weren’t from pain as much as shock. A commoner had just struck her. “You are afraid, good. Use it,” the voice instructed. The girl was unsure what to do. She wanted to leave but that would mean she would lose Scirio’s respect and her plan of escape would be ruined.

 

She took a deep breath and raised her sword in the defensive form she was taught. She focused on Scirio’s footsteps until they disappeared. She knew where he ought to be, but there was something calling out to her from the other side. It felt like a memory of a dream , difficult to grasp but there in the back of her mind. The feeling grew more intense and she screamed out her frustration and spun. Her blade caught her teacher's mid swing.

 

**

 

Ranania started blinking as the blindfold was taken off. She wasn’t sure how long the exercise had lasted, but it felt like minutes. She had not managed to block every strike and she had several bruises on her as a result. It seemed like whenever she grew confident in her abilities, it became more difficult to predict the attacks. Fear seemed to give her an edge.

 

“I want to learn more,” she told Scirio. The Hapan nodded. “Why?” he asked. The question caught her off guard. The man had always accepted their arrangement without question. Was this the time to tell him about her plans? She looked down briefly. “It makes me feel … something,” she replied honestly. Scirio nodded. “Then we will continue tomorrow after you give your bruises a chance to heal.” The girl was about to add something when a rough voice suddenly interrupted the moment.

 

“What’s this?” Garethe asked, a huge grin on his face. Lucane’s giant lapdog marchedat them. He had stopped limping, the girl noted. The Hapan did not even turn to face him as he put on his scarf. “A secret rendez-vous? Lucane will love to hear this,” he added.

 

The Hapan scoffed and finally turned. “We are practicing fencing,” he said. “I would invite you to join but you seem to lack a talent for conflict.” Garethe turned red and was fuming at the foreigner. “You still have a big mouth,” he warned. “Yes, somehow beating you into the dirt hasn’t rid me of that,” Scirio added, moving past the man.

 

Garethe suddenly lunged at him but Scirio’s fists flew out like a lightning strike. He hit the man in the throat twice before he brought his heel down on the side of the man’s knee. Once again the giant fell and Scirio grabbed his arm, pinning it behind his back. “If you ever talk about me when I am not present, I will kill you,” he whispered. He let go of the giant and inclined his head towards Ranania. There was something shining from under the fold in the foreigner’s tunic as he bowed low. With a smile she realized the Hapan had picked a datapad out of Garethe’s pocket.

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Contrast

 

 

The opera came to a sudden halt at the height of its momentum. Ranania inhaled sharply as the vibrant colours and almost overwhelming sounds died away. The dark made her feel cold and alone.

 

She almost flinched when Duke Lucane grabbed her hand. She was wearing gloves to hide the calluses from her sword training with Scirio.

 

“I hope this makes up for the incident in the garden,” Lucane whispered. “Your parents told me that you enjoy the Opera.” Ranania forced a smile and squeezed his hand, hiding her disgust.

 

The lights inside the room came back on and there was a small moment of silence. Several members of House Thul got up from their seats and clapped. The room soon filled with thunderous applause. Ranania forced herself to smile and followed suit. She knew the show would be a wild success because of Thul's responce. Productions were known to go bankrupt because of as much as a slight yawn.

 

**

 

Ranania was staring at the ceiling of her room, unable to find sleep. She had noted the lack of guards Lucane had inside the Opera. It made sense, tickets were expensive. Slowly it had dawned on her that she would have a good chance to escape during one of the shows. It could work if she could convince Scirio to arrange a transport.

 

She got up from her bed and left the room. She started walking through the corridor of her parents’ estate looking for her teacher. She would finally ask him.

 

She found the foreigner in the courtyard, sitting in a meditative position. “Scirio,” the girl whispered. The Hapan didn’t open his eyes as he replied. “You seem excited."

 

Ranania frowned slightly. “I have a favour to ask of you,” she said after gathering her courage. The hapan smiled, seeming amused. Whatever confidence Ranania had felt was disappearing fast. They had become friends, she thought. But the Hapan seemed different, she could feel a cold and cruel aura around him.

 

“I want you to help me escape,” she finally said. Ignoring the feeling, she knew it was now or never. The Hapan finally opened his eyes.

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Broken Windows

 

Ranania eyed her own reflection in the tall mirror. Various servants held up coloured fabrics near her. The wedding was only a month away and decisions had to be made. Her mother was too busy instructing her aides to realize how much her daughter was struggling.

 

The girl had finally asked Scirio to help her escape. He had not refused her but warned her to think it through. Lucane would lose face if she ran away. He would undoubtedly look for a way to retaliate

 

The girl inhaled a startled gasp as thunder roared outside. “This one or this one?” her mother suddenly asked, indicating two patterns. Ranania inclined her head towards one, not caring either way. “It is your decision,” her mother said. “This is your day after all.” She closed her eyes to hold back her tears and exhaled.

 

When the ordeal was over Ranania almost sprinted out of the room. She was meeting Scirio soon and had to change into something more practical. She stopped at the door and turned. Her mother was looking at the fabrics they had chosen. “Why are you doing this?” Ranania asked all of the sudden. Her mother looked up in confusion.

 

“Why does my choice in fabrics matter if the person I am marrying doesn’t?" Duchess Caelia snapped her fingers and motioned her aides out the door before getting up. “How dare you,” she started. “I thought I raised you better than that, who knows who’s listening.”

 

Ranania stood her ground, scowling at the older woman. “We've been over this! You will marry Lucane! You will smile and look pretty and do everything else he expects you to do!” her mother screamed.

 

Ranania felt her heart race, though she did not feel frightened. She sensed something almost overwhelming radiating from her mother. The woman wasn’t angry, she was terrified. She was going to sacrifice her child’s happiness because of fear. Ranania turned in disgust and left the room.

 

--

 

Ranania swung her practise sword with ever increasing fury. “Good,” the Hapan whispered as he sidestepped the attack and unleashed a counter cut. The girl swept her blade across her back to block the blow as she spun. The two combatants eyed each other for a moment. This was by far the best match they had ever had. “Your anger gives you focus,” Scirio said in approval.

 

Ranania lowered her sword. “What’s the point of this?” she demanded. Her teacher tilted his head to one side. “Swordsmanship will open you up to a strength within you. A strength you do not know you have.”

 

“I am tired of these cryptic talks. Your words do nothing to help me,” she snarled. She launched herself forward, slashing wildly at her teacher. “Good,” the man remarked coolly as he spun and dodged each blow. “Use your anger, strike me down.” Ranania felt her frustration build like a pressure inside every fiber of her being. Tears were running down her face and she did not care. She was tired of hiding her emotions. She was tired of her parents’ cowardice. She screamed out her pain. The shattering of nearby vases and windows echoed through the room as she fell to the floor. The storm outside was washing into the estate now and the girl slowly got up.

 

“What happened?” she asked in confusion, wiping away her tears. her teacher smiled. “This is your strength,” he explained. Ranania looked around the wreckage of the room as attendants hurried inside. “Help me escape,” she whispered to Scirio. The foreigner nodded. “Very well.”

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Deception

 

Duke Lucane strode down the stairs of the Opera house. His betrothed’s arm was hooked in his and he flashed a cocky grin at the holo-news cameras. His upcoming wedding was the talk of the town. Alderaan fed off moments like this, princes and princesses, glamour and gossip. The fact that the wedding was only a means to an end failed to bother the Duke.

 

Over the decades he had gotten a reputation for being a brute with a love for nothing but violence. Lucane had long since accepted this fact about himself. But that did not mean it had to ring true in the ears of the people of Alderaan. A good match helped to soften his image and secure future opportunities for his house. He considered a brief interview with one of the holo-news reporters, but decided against it. Ranania had not yet fully accepted her new role as decoration and she might say something foolish. He pulled the girl close to him and opted to strike a pose instead. He played the game and he played it well.

 

He was about to get into his luxury speeder when the driver jogged up to him. “My lord, we have a situation,” he said.

 

**

 

Yellow eyes caught the scarce light in the room where Duchess Caelia slept. “I apologize,” Scirio said loud enough for the Duchess to wake. “What is this?” she said in fear. “How dare you?” she managed then realized there was something wet and sticky covering the sheets. She was about to scream when the foreigner darted forward and covered her mouth. “I needed your husband’s life. Be quiet, remember your training.”

 

The Duchess seemed to calm down, though her hands were covered in blood. Scirio nodded and let go of her. “I always knew the Sith would return,” she whispered. “After I stopped receiving orders I hoped they were done with me. But when Ranania was born and I knew it was only a matter of time before they came to take her. I had hoped Lucane would keep her safe after the wedding… it seems I was a fool.”

 

Scirio smiled. “I take it she doesn’t know about her real father.” The Duchess shook her head. “Please… don’t take her..” she pleaded. Scirio shrugged lightly. “She will have a choice,” he promised. The duchess nodded, knowing this was as good a deal as she was going to get. She raised her head high. “I am ready,” she said with confidence. Scirio smiled, the former Imperial spy had exceeded his expectation of her fearlessness.

 

**

 

Lucane’s scowled as he took in the news. Garethe was one of his oldest guards. Was it too much to expect him to be the most loyal? Had Lucane's recent favouritism of the Hapan cut so deep? “Make sure the Duke and Duchess are safe,” he ordered into his comlink. “Garethe doesn’t suspect we are on to him, he might yet strike.”

 

Lucane took another look at the datapad. He wasn’t sure why the Caelias had a price on their head or how Garethe had found out. But an encrypted part on the man’s datapad revealed that there was a lot the Duke had been unaware of. It was only by chance that the rest of his team had discovered the thing had started transmitting signals to Nar Shaddaa. “Garethe, you idiot,” Lucane muttered.

 

“Fetch Ranania, we are going to her parents’ estate,” he ordered his driver. The man turned slightly pale. “Sir the second speeder to take her to your estate has already left.” Lucane blinked before turning red with rage. “What second speeder?!” he snarled.

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Departure

 

Lucane clenched his jaw as Garethe stood blindfolded against one of the estate’s walls. It bothered him that the man had not confessed his crimes. The evidence was there, though not exactly overwhelming. For now it did not fully matter. Appearance was everything. They needed someone to be punished if only for Ranania’s sake.

 

The fact that there was no ransom note for his betrothed made him fear the worst. He might have to look for a new bride and start this entire process over again. The Duke sighed in annoyance. He hated setbacks.

 

A small grin formed on the Duke lips. Perhaps this wasn’t as bad as he had imagined. he could spin this. His goal was to appear more sympathetic… he could lay bear his grief for all the Castle Lands to see. His betrothed kidnapped, her parents killed… why there wouldn’t be a dry eye in the room once he was done.

 

He turned away and shouted. “Gather the press, I will make a statement!" He glanced over his shoulder and added. “Oh and execute Garethe already.”

 

--

 

Ranania rubbed her arms. The Hapan had arranged a place for her inside a warehouse near a spaceport. Most cargo didn’t need heat and she was freezing. It had been two days since her escape and she had not stopped considering whether she had made a mistake.

 

The girl flinched when the door opened and she scrambled to hide behind a plasteel crate. Her fright vanished when Scirio entered the room, closing the door behind him. She hurried towards him, eager for any news.

 

“I booked passage on a freighter to Naboo,” the Hapan said when she drew near, not glancing at her. She could sense something was wrong. “What is it?” she asked. “You will have to hide in one of those plasteel crates, for the trip. It will not be comfortable.”

 

The girl shuddered, eyeing one of the crates. Still she could sense there was something else the Hapan wasn’t telling her. She waited until finally the foreigner looked at her. “It’s your parents …” he said with a sigh and Ranania felt the floor sinking. “It seems your actions provoked Lucane into a rage …”

 

Ranania was sobbing on the floor now. “It is my fault,” the Hapan whispered, I should have never let it come this far. The girl shook her head. “You warned me…” she managed. “You warned me this might happen. No...” She grabbed the side of her head and screamed. The plasteel containers in the room started denting inwards. And for a moment it seemed the entire room quaked.

 

A slight smile formed on Scirio’s lips and he turned away. “I will get you off planet by nightfall,” he said. “No!” the girl shouted. “I want him punished, I want him hurt!” she snarled. “I want him dead.” The Hapan turned to her again. “Revenge is an open wound,” he warned her. “Even if you kill him it will not bring your parents back. It will start you on a path that-”

 

“Save it,” the girl spat venomously. “Can you help me or not?” The Hapan inclined his head. “I can. I can make you strong enough. I can give you power that you couldn’t yet begin the fathom.” Ranania was still shaking with rage. “What do you want in return?” she asked. “Only that you learn from me. Take my knowledge and know me as your master. I want you to unlock your potential. Become my apprentice, Ranania … and in time, vengeance will be yours.” The girl balled her trembling fists and slowly bowed her head.

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  • 3 weeks later...

The Mountain Path

 

Haresh scowled as he lunged forward, cutting clear through one of his training droids. He retreated the blade, and spun it it back with a flourish that caught a series of blasterbolts. With a swing of his arm, he tossed the large weapon across the room at its source. The projectile hummed violently as it cut through the last droid and returned to his hand. The room was littered with droid-parts from the initial ten he had started against.

 

Haresh took a deep breath and permitted himself to calm down. The door behind him opened with a sharp hiss. “My lord,” an officer said, bowing. The officer had waited outside for the training exercise to be over. The look on the Zabrak’s face warned him that he might have wanted to wait longer.

 

“I have something that might interest you, my lord,” he stammered, holding out a datapad. Haresh jerked it from his grasp and played the video on there. A curly-haired girl with golden eyes stared back at him from inside a crowd. Haresh recognized her instantly. He had looked for her for months on Hoth. “Sciriato’s sister,” he whispered. “When and where was this taken?” he asked, turning back. “It made its way to the holonet only recently, we're unsure what the source is.”

 

The Zabrak smiled. They had been nowhere near finding her on Hoth. He knew he had made the right decision to turn on his old master, even though it wounded him. Sciriato had chosen him as an apprentice and he had betrayed that trust. But by doing so he had saved over a hundred Imperial lives. Given a chance, he would make the same choice every time.

 

--

 

The twin suns of Tatooine burned down on Ranania as she carried two large jugs of water. The weights were hooked on a staff which she carried on her shoulders. Her muscles screamed in agony as she made her way up the narrow and steep mountain path. She went down to the nearby moisture farm every morning before sunset. She wore a turban both to fight off the heat and hide her face. Duke Lucane undoubtedly had people looking for her.

 

Her days were filled with training and conflict. Whenever she lost focus even for an instance intrusive thoughts and guilt trickled in. If she had not decided to run, her parents would still be alive.

 

Her nights were filled with nightmares both of the past and her current training. She knew her master wanted to break her, she would not give in. She would learn all she could and return to Alderaan to find vengeance for her parents.

 

Her hatred gave her strength, the promise of revenge gave her purpose. In every hit, every strike and every surge of hatred she saw Lucane’s face.

 

She was nearing the top of the hill when she heard a laugh behind her. “You won't last long if it's this easy to sneak up on you,” her master said. Ranania clenched her jaw and turned around. She had not sensed the man hiding. She swung the stick over her head, sliding off both jugs off in one single move.

 

Usually she would get a moment to rest her muscles after the long trek. Not today, it seemed. She did not protest, not display any sign of fatigue. Showing weakness is inviting sure destruction, her master had taught her. She knew he would never go easy on her.

 

She didn’t wait for him to start. Hesitation was weakness. She charged at him in a blazing patterns of strikes. The uneven ground made it more difficult for her form to remain impeccable.

“Clumsy,” her master said softly as he leaned and stepped out of the path of each blow. His hands clasped behind his back in a casual manner. Ranania swung her staff wide and her master stepped past the attack. he planted a foot behind hers and shoved her over with his shoulder. She tumbled down the mountain path and lost her staff along the way.

 

She struggled to her feet, ignoring the small cuts from the fall. Her master tucked his toes under her fallen staff and kicked it up, catching it in one hand. “I thought the staff might teach you balance. But now you are disarmed, will you give up? Crawl into a little ball?” Ranania screamed again as she charged up the hill, hands like an eagle’s claws she swiped for his throat. Her master leaned back, avoiding the strike and swung the stick around, hitting her in the side of the head. The edge of her vision was turning black but she fought through it, striking again. Her master spun the staff in a flurry that caught her hand but didn't stop it. A loud crack echoed through the path as the staff snapped in half and her master smiled. He then launched a snap-kick to her chest and sent her tumbling back down. "I will be upstairs waiting for you," he said casually. "Thank you for not spilling my water."

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  • 3 weeks later...

Reunion

 

Ranania frowned at the obelisk shaped rock. She had no idea where it had come from. her master had not brought it with him when they first came here. But there it was, in the middle of the clearing on top of the mountain as if it had been where it had always belonged.

 

“Lift it,” her master said. She was not sure what her master meant. The obelisk came up to her neck, there was no way she would be able to pick it up. The girl looked around. If she had her stick she could try to use it as a lever, but she had snapped it in half during their bout the day before. She moved toward the Obelisk and grabbed its side, trying to get it to budge. “It’s impossible!” she snapped after a few minutes.

 

Her master shook his head. “It is only impossible, because you accept it is.” He paused then started again, voice gradually rising as he raised his open palm. “You and I have talents only few posses. I see greatness in you, so much potential. In time you will see the reality you accept is just a lie you’ve been taught, a chain holding you back. Nothing is impossible!” The Obelisk started to tremble then suddenly flew off the ground. Ranania felling back. “What the-” she whispered as the rock hovered above her. She crawled away, thinking it might drop on her.

 

“Look at me,” Scirio demanded. The girl stared at him, her eyes wide in awe. “The only thing holding you back is you.” He lowered his arm and the Obelisk fell down with a loud crash. “Now lift it.”

 

Ranania sprawled to her feet and imitated her master’s pose. “Reach out,” he instructed and she tried to little effect. “What did I teach you, use your anger… use your hatred!” She screamed, trying to get the Obelisk to move. but she was too distracted by images of the sorcery she had just witnessed.

 

Scirio frowned and turned away. “I have an errand to run,” he said. “By the time I return, I expect you to have moved the rock. “What errand?” the girl asked suspiciously. In all their time on Tatooine, her master had not ever left the mountain. Her master shook his head. “Focus on your lesson,” he instructed.

 

**

 

Scirio took a sip from his water bottle as he overlooked the valley. He had found a vantage point on top of a crashed ship so he could spot everything in the vicinity. It was a small message that had lured him out of the mountains, something that could be meaningless. The chances of it being a trap were high. But the chance of it being real, however small, was worth risking everything for. He spotted a lone figure walking the dunes miles away and took out his macrobinoculars.

 

He inhaled a startled gasp as the vision cleared in. A lone woman walked through the sand. Her fair skin not build for Tatooine’s harsh suns. When she was closer, he unhooked a cord from his waist and slid down the side of the ship, landing in front of the woman. She hadn’t aged a day since they last saw one another. “How is this possible?” Scirio asked, his voice trembling beside himself. The woman smiled at him and pulled him into an embrace.

 

**

 

Ranania had her eyes closed as she stood next to the Obelisk. Her one hand reached out as if reaching for something, though the gesture was only a conduit for the force. Through the invisible energy surrounding her she could feel the Obelisk’s smooth surface. She nudged, carefully though she felt it made no difference. She tried to focus on her anger, her reason for being here. She harnessed it and pushed it outward. Still nothing.

 

The girl opened her eyes as she heard voices approaching. She tensed and assumed her fighting stance immediately. Not relaxing as her master reached the top, he had brought a woman with him. Her master was smiling, the sight was unsettling. “Who is this?” Ranania asked, eyeing the woman. “Ranania, I would like you to meet my sister: Liracen. She will be staying with us for a while.”

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Growing Fire

 

Ranania grunted in exertion as carried the buckets of water up the final steps of the mountain path. After losing her staff, she was reduced to carrying the buckets with her hands. This only helped the foul mood she was in after the return of her master’s sister. Scirio had promised to train her and now he was distracted by some interloper. If she was so full of potential, then why was he wasting time with the other woman instead?

 

She sent a glare at Liracen as the woman walked up to her. “Need a hand?” the other woman asked. Ranania put the buckets down and shook her head. “We did not get a chance to talk,” Liracen added. “Are you from Tatooine?” Ranania clenched her jaw. Was this another one of her master’s tests? “I’m from a small planet in Hutt space,” she lied. “You wouldn’t have heard of it.” Liracen nodded, accepting the answer. She was about to add something when the girl suddenly took off. She does take after her master, the woman reflected.

 

--

 

Than’so looked at his sister from a distance. For the first time in a long time he felt afraid. He had mostly made small talk with Liracen. Words fell short when it came to expressing that for over five years he had to kill the hope of ever seeing her again. That each morning he had to whisper to himself that she was gone, despite his mind protesting.

 

But she wasn't gone. She had spent the last five years frozen in carbonite, barely aging since they had last spoken. Where he had felt the full weight of every day pass. He had done unspeakable things since then. And he had done them with the conviction of a true acolyte of the dark side. He had stopped counting the lives he had ended or ruined a long time ago. He did not feel guilt, only fear that she would find out. She would see what he had become and hate him for it.

 

--

 

Ranania sighed as she looked at the Obelisk. She closed her eyes and focused on her anger. Unlike the previous day, her feelings were brewing right on the surface this time. She wondered if her master had only given her this task so he could be rid of her. But even her increased frustration wasn’t enough to budge the Obelisk.

 

“Your anger is making you lose focus,” Liracen observed. Ranania’s scowl deepened, though she kept her eyes closed. “My master taught me to use my anger,” she snapped back. “Use it, yes. But you are letting it control you.”

 

“Observe your anger as if it wasn’t part of yourself.” Liracen’s voice turned almost hypnotic. "Imagine yourself on a cool snowy plane. Your anger a fire nearby, too far to touch, but not too far to feel." The girl exhaled, her scowl softening. “Mold it into what you desire. Keep control over it without letting it affect you.” Ranania’s hand rose gradually as she imagined her anger as a fiery extension of herself. The larger the fire grew, the more difficult it became to control. Images of her parents filled her mind even as the Obelisk lifted off the ground and spun in the air. It wasn’t until tears started rolling down her cheeks that her concentration broke. The obelisk came crashing down again. "Well done," Liracen commented.

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  • 2 weeks later...

The Cold Night

 

Scirio watched his sister walk down the mountain path. Though he retained a stoic expression he was wounded inside. Once again she left him and he had no assurance that she would come back. All the words he hadn’t been able to express now flooded his mind and he wanted to run after her. Instead he stayed in place. “Master are you alright?” Ranania asked. “Be quiet,” the Sith snapped at her before turning around.

 

At the bottom of the mountain path, Liracen sent a smiling glance over her shoulder. Her smile turned into a frown as she realized her brother was leaving. She swallowed hard and continued.

 

--

 

The twin suns were setting and the sky over the mountain was turning dark. Scirio was starting a fire to fight off the cold that would soon come. “How did she find us?” his apprentice asked. “We have a way of communicating,” Scirio said. Ranania looked down. “More sorcery?” she asked after a while. Her master smiled. “No, the holonet,” he shrugged. “A long time ago, I used to race swoop bikes. I once had a race on this very planet. Some of the old fanpages still exist on the holonet, that’s where she contacted me.”

 

Ranania smiled. “Scirio the racer, huh,” she remarked. The man shook his head. “I used a different name, my real one.” The girl frowned. “I think you are ready to know,” Scirio said, putting aside his flint and tinder. He held his outstretched palm above the logs of wood, the air around him started to change. A small spark escaped his palm, then another, soon the logs caught on fire and illuminated the pair.

 

“Have you ever heard of the force?” Scirio started, turning to his wide eyed apprentice. She nodded. “Is that what you are teaching me? Jedi magic?” The yellow eyed man grinned at that. “A long time ago, when the Jedi were only discovering the force, they soon learned there were two sides to it. They called these Ashla and Bogan, after Tython’s two moons.”

 

He paused, noting how intently the girl was listening. “ There were those who followed the way of Bogan. They believed one’s feelings could be used to amplify their command of the force. Their power frightened the rest of the Jedi and soon they called a blood hunt. All but twelve of the Bogan disciples were killed.”

 

Ranania frowned slightly. “What happened to them?” she asked. “They started their own civilization and called themselves Sith.” The girl’s frown turned into a scowl. The Sith had sacked Alderaan several decades ago, she knew. If Scirio had noticed her scowl, he did not give an indication. “The Sith lived in their own system for many millenia. Eventually the jedi found them again. When they did, they vowed to murder every man, woman and child they could find.”

 

The girl shook her head. “What does this have to do with us?” she asked. “You asked if we were using Jedi magic, we are not. Everything I know, I know because I am Sith,” he paused. “As was your father.”

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Instrument of Murder

 

Ranania swung her saber in a wide arc, its red blade matched the sky as Tatooine’s twin suns rose. Ranania had only seen pictures of a weapon like this, it was magnificent. Scirio had told her it once belonged to her father. She didn’t believe him of course. Her father had been a soft spoken noble, not the Sith Warlord Scirio had talked about. A Warlord whom Scirio had made a vow to, to protect his daughter.

 

Still she had hesitated before expressing her doubts. It was when her master had snapped at her that she realized just how vulnerable she was. Scirio could snap her neck and leave her for death and no one would even know.

 

She hated feeling helpless. Her training had given her a taste of power and she was hungry for more. Already she was performing feats she had once believed impossible. Scirio had told her the only limit is the one she imagined for herself.

 

So she had hesitated and played along. If Scirio imagined that it was his duty to protect her then all the better for her. There was nothing to be gained from disagreeing. A wise warrior chooses the battles that favour him, her master had taught her.

 

**

 

Scirio watched his apprentice move the blade through some of the sequences he had taught her. the girl had taken the revelation of her real father’s with surprising calm. Suspicious calm even. Scirio knew that she did not believe him and that she was just playing along. But the fact that she had recognized that this would serve her needs regardless was admirable. Deception was a powerful weapon for any Sith. And for now it made little difference what she believed.

 

“This is a symbol for the next part of your training, there is no going back after this,” Scirio said. Ranania halted her sequence and scowled. “I don’t want to go back,” she hissed, lowering her weapon. “I want you to understand this is an instrument of murder, nothing more. Though the Jedi and even some Sith delude themselves, this is a murderer’s weapon. By accepting it, you will become nothing more than a murderer.”

 

Ranania only hesitated for a second. She would avenge her parents, her real parents. She would murder Lucane, it was her destiny. She raised her weapon at him and nodded. Scirio’s stern look did not leave her eyes. “We are leaving today. Pick a new name so we don’t have to use your old one.” He paused. “There’s one more thing,” he added after a moment and took a small virboknife out of his pocket.

 

Ranania held her saber between them in suspicion. Her master had often surprised her with violence. Scirio held out the knife’s handle for her. “Lucane’s hunters will be looking for a girl with long curly blonde hair. We’ll dye it when we get a chance, for now cut it short.” Ranania paused and turned off her saber, then took the knife. “Rain,” she said as she lifted her bun and slid the knife under then cut through. “My name can be Rain.”

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  • 5 weeks later...

Killer

 

The suns bore down on the Sith as they made their trek across the desert. Rain was beyond exhausted. She was beyond thirsty. Her lower back screamed at her with ache and her lips and skin were a dried and cracked horror. She stared at the ground and tried to focus on each step. She had fallen once before and her master had left her behind. It took what she thought then was her last reserve to catch up to him. But she had more reserves than she had ever known. Despite everything, she was still going.

 

Her master stopped and she nearly ran into him. She looked up. “Get ready,” he said over his shoulder. The instinct they had grown over the past months kicked in. She could sense something through the force. “Sand people,” Scirio added, before his saber sprang to life.

 

There were three of them, seeming to crawl out of the ground, roaring and charging at the pair. Scirio darted forward and leaped into the group. It took a few seconds before Rain gathered her courage. But she ignited her saber and ran after him.

 

One of the raiders turned to her as she drew near, the masked man was a giant. He raised his strange bladed staff above his head and roared at her.

 

There was something holding Rain back and she didn’t know what at first. She felt scared. The sandpeople seemed to share no such sentiment and brought his staff down at her. Rain spun away then dashed forward ready to strike. But she didn't. She wasn’t sure why. She was full of crippling hesitation and uncertainty. She fell into a defensive crouch, waiting for him.

 

The raider tilted his masked head in confusion at her and roared again. His cry was interrupted by a stifled scream coming from one of his friends and he actually turned away. Every part of Rain’s body screamed at her to launch forward, but she just couldn’t.

 

The tusken turned back to her and lunged forward again. This time Rain ducked under his sideway swing but was caught off-guard by his sudden charge. The man’s shoulder slammed into her and made her lose her balance. She fell into the sand as the man raised his weapon and brought it down. She finally swung upward and met his weapon. To her shock the raider fell backward, his staff burned in two by her lightsaber. The alien was grabbing at his arm and Rain realised she had cut through his weapon and into him.

 

“Good,” a voice at her side said. Scirio had killed both of his opponents. “Finish him,” he ordered. She raised her blade but couldn't bring it down. She did not wish to kill this person. he was defeated, surely that was enough? “I can’t,” Ranania whispered.

 

Scirio turned away. “You disappoint me,” he said. “You told me you understood what this weapon was. A murderer’s tool. If you try to deny what you are, your training will end. Our partnership will end.”

 

Ranania looked back at the fallen raider. She knew her master meant he would leave her here to die in the middle of nowhere.

 

She closed her eyes and swung down her blade. The man roared a panicked cry but soon fell silent.

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Limit

 

“Pity has no place in our reality,” Scirio said as he walked next to Rain. It had been close to an hour since their confrontation with the raiders. But he could still sense the conflict in the young girl. He knew she was nearing her limit. One last shove was all she needed to make it past the edge.

 

Rain glared at the ground for a long time as they walked in silence. “You led us to our doom here. You made me kill a man and I’m still going to die in the desert,” she suddenly snapped. Scirio stopped and tilted his head. “I can sense your fury,” he whispered, eyes half closed. “Use your hatred, don’t push it down.”

 

“You’re insane!” Rain shouted. Scirio scoffed then flashed an infuriating grin. The girl felt her heart pounding in her chest and finally lunged at him.

 

Her master sidestepped with ease. “You turned me into a murderer!” the girl cried. Scirio shrugged again. “I gave you every chance to walk away.” She came at him again, this time more sluggish. This was it, she was past the edge. Now he would break her. Scirio didn’t sidestep this time, instead his saber flashed upward and caught her blade. He leaned in close. “You’re pathetic. You will never avenge your parents. They would be ashamed of you.”

 

Rain screamed and pulled back her blade, but her master moved in unexpectedly. He reversed his grip, slamming the hilt into her jaw. The girl could taste blood and felt a molar loosen as she went down. Her saberhilt fell next to her in the sand. Once more she tried to push herself up but she felt a kick to her gut and spit up the tooth inside a chunk of blood. She started slipping into a vision of melting snow engulfed by the pyre of her hatred.

 

Scirio reached out a hand and her saberhilt flew into his grip. “You’re not worthy of being my apprentice,” he said, turning away. “You will die here. Alone and forgotten.” Rain flew upward, a sudden iron grip closed in around Scirio’s neck. “I am not weak!” she screamed, murder in her eyes. Scirio put his hands together and slid them between her arms. He then pushed outward, breaking her grip and pushing her away.

 

He smiled in approval and took a flask from inside his coat. “I can see that,” he said, holding out the drink. Rain glared at him, her eyes still blazing with hatred. She was unsure what was even in the flask but she grabbed it. She pulled the cap off and started to gulp down the water inside. “Strength is rewarded, I took this off the sandpeople,” Scirio said in amusement. He paused and lifted the macrobinoculars from his neck, then turned. “Just half an hour more and we’ll be at Anchorhead. I trust you to make it, my apprentice.”

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Anchorhead

 

Rain had never seen so many different types of aliens as she did at the Anchorhead’s marketplace. When they had arrived on Tatooine, they had done so in a different spaceport. “It is good to not fall in routines. Routines is how they find you,” her master had told her before they had departed on their hellish trek.

 

Rain’s jaw was bruised and hurt awfully, but ice was worth more than gold on Tatooine. Atleast the swelling made her face look different which would help with the bounty on her head. Still they had not addressed the issue of her hunger since they entered. She was expecting her master to take them to a stall to make up for their confrontation in the desert. But that expectation was fading. “I need food,” she finally blurted out. Scirio glanced at her and nodded. “Very well, I will meet you back here in an hour,” he said.

 

Rain frowned. “I don’t have credits,” she explained. Her master flashed his infuriating grin. “That sounds like your issue,” he shrugged, before walking off. “One hour,” he repeated.

 

Rain glared as her master left but then turned around. She knew that she could mug someone, just the sight of her lightsaber was enough to intimidate most. But she didn’t want to risk drawing attention to herself. She wondered if she could try something more subtle. She had seen her master simply gave someone an order and watched his victim comply. Though she didn’t understand at the time she knew now that it was because he was speaking through the force. If nothing else, it was worth a try.

 

She marched to a meat stand and waited to be acknowledged. “What can I get you?” the human behind the counter asked. Rain locked eyes with the man and put all her focus into reaching out through the force. “You will give me a stick of bantha bits,” she said, her voice heavy with authority. The man nodded. “I will give you a stick of bantha bits,” he repeated, before picking one up and holding it out. She grabbed it and grinned. It had actually worked. She wondered what else she could get. She glanced back at the man when she realized he was still looking at her. “What?” she asked. The man frowned. “Are you going to pay for that?” he demanded. She frowned and opted to bolt instead.

 

**

 

Scirio glanced at the Sullustan waving him into his small hut and eyed the equipment inside. “You are sure, this will work?” he asked. Every part of the machine inside looked like it was scraped together. “Yes, very good,” the alien said. “You have coordinates?” Scirio nodded and gave the junker a folded piece of paper.

 

The hut filled with a blue glow as the machine came to life and opened a connection. Scirio bowed his head lightly as a projection of Lord Lucane came into view. “My lord,” Scirio said. “You have news?” Lucane asked disinterestedly. Scirio nodded once. “I have found Ranania.”

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Con

 

Scirio motioned at the Sullustan, the alien tilted his head at him. Scirio scoffed and told him to turn off the feed. “Your friend look wealthy,” the scrapper said. “He is,” Scirio confirmed. “Maybe that cost a bit extra, seeing as you have credits to spare.” Scirio smiled at the man. “I want you to understand, it is vital that you don't tell anyone that someone fitting my description was here.”

 

The Sullustan started nodding. “Yes, you pay extra?” Scirio shook his head. The alien’s grotesque face turned into one of disappointment. But it turned into shock as an invisible noose dragged him off the ground. The alien’s neck snapped violently sideways before his body fell down. Scirio wiped his hands off, even though he had not physically touched the alien. He then turned to the machine and made a fist. The machine started collapsing in on itself with a loud clang. Satisfied that he had not left a trace, the Sith left the hut behind.

 

**

 

Ranania was sitting on a terrace overlooking the market, finishing her Bantha bits. She had lost the vendor when she had decided to jump one of the roofs, using the force to elevate her ascend. Once on the roof she had spotted this terrace. It had a nice view and there was no one that could stop her from claiming it. There was no one that would be able to stop her from taking what she wanted ever again. Strength got rewarded.

 

She spotted her master walking through the market though she didn't get up. She had spent the last few months with barely any time alone. She was savoring it. It reminded her of her time in the garden at her parents’ house. Her good mood died swiftly when the thought of her parents entered her mind and she climbed down.

 

**

 

Scirio eyed Rain as she walked towards him. “Did you find food?” He asked. The girl nodded. “I see that you didn’t spare me any leftovers,” he pointed out. “That sounds like your problem,” the girl mocked. Scirio grinned and the two started making their way to the spaceport.

 

“Please tell me I don’t have to hide in a crate again for this trip,” Rain said. “I found us some credits to pay passage off-world,” Scirio replied. Rain tilted her head. “How?” she demanded. Scirio considered for a moment then opted to tell the truth. “I talked to Lucane, I explained to him that my absence was due to finding the people who kidnapped you. They’re taking you off-world. I needed funds to follow them. Some of it is true, in a sense.”

 

Rain paused. “... you got Lucane to pay for our ticket?”

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  • 2 weeks later...

Dark Whispers

 

Haresh walked through the academy halls. The shadows of statues loomed over him, darkened his path. Hushed whispers and laughter echoed all around him. “Alien. Slave,” they spat and mocked. With every step he took he seemed to shrink. “You will never be one of us,” a voice sneered. The Zabrak grit his teeth and grabbed the double bladed saber at his waist.

 

The crimson fire exploded out of both ends and vanquished the shadows around him. He smiled with confidence as the voices faded. He heard footsteps behind him and spun around, eager for a fight. The T-visored mask worn by his would be challenger made him reconsider. “Master,” he whispered as the hooded man approached. He knelt down like he did the first time Lord Sciriato had addressed him. “Forgive me,” the Zabrak whispered. The hooded figure ignored his pleading and raised his saber then brought it down.

 

Haresh woke up covered in cold sweat. Fear engulfing both his hearts and it took him a moment to cast it out and collect his thoughts. “Was this a nightmare or vision?” He asked himself.

 

***

 

Scirio and Rain sat cross legged across from one another in the small quarters they had secured. Though physically there, they were mentally submerged in the dark side of the force. The exercise was to pour their malice into the force's dark tides and to accept whatever flowed back. The point was achieve emptiness, a true void, the heart of the dark side.

 

It would have been easy to get lost, to lose one’s self. But Rain had her master to guide her, he could hear his dark whispers like an echo in her head. “Come back into yourself,” he whispered now and slowly she did. When she opened her eyes, her master’s golden eyes were looking at her. They seemed more intense, more feral, an aftereffect from the dark practice. “You are shivering, take a moment to collect yourself,” he instructed before getting up.

 

They had a small tea kettle and some leaves her master had collected. The smell and taste of the drink helped her reconnect with her bodies’ senses. “How long were we in meditation?” She asked. Her master shrugged lightly. “Long enough, we should be in Hutt Space shortly.”

 

Rain frowned. Her master was always vague, when she asked questions. He had told her they were meeting a contact here. She resented the blind faith he forced on her.

 

“You made a great stride after you talked to my sister, what is it she told you?” Scirio asked after a moment. Rain glanced down recalling the lesson. “She told me to use my anger, but not let it control me.” Scirio nodded. “An important lesson for any Sith. The Dark Side promises power. It gives you the potential to fight with the universe on your side. But it is a double edged weapon. Slowly but surely it will manipulate you as much as you manipulate it. You may find yourself having thoughts you never experienced before. Find minor annoyances erupt a fury in you that you have never experienced. It changes you, as it has me and many before. Use your revenge as an anchor to keep you focused on what’s important.”

 

Rain paused before she spoke. “When will I be ready to kill him?” She asked. Her master shrugged lightly as he poured out their tea. “Are you capable of killing him now? Yes. What I want you to do is think further than that. Revenge has many forms and simple murder is not always the most satisfying route.” Rain took in the lesson with a solemn nod. She had a creative mind and her heart was growing colder every day. She was sure that she could come up with a satisfying end to Lucane.

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  • 6 months later...

Return

 

The silver shuttle reflected Alderaan’s sun as it descended in the spaceport. Lucane smiled softly. He was dressed in a ceremonious garb. The scene was perfect and the press surrounding him eagerly filmed every miniscule detail. It would be the talk of Alderaan for years to come. He did not have the leading role in this little act, but he had the next best thing. He would be the enduring lover that had never given up on his true love’s return. He flashed a smile as the shuttle door opened.

 

Lucane hid his annoyance when he spotted Ranania’s short hair and bruises. Was it too much effort to get a wig and some makeup on the way to Alderaan? Lucane then noticed Scirio standing in his behtroded’s shadow. He hoped that the Hapan would knew his place well enough to stay out of sight.

 

“My love,” the girl croaked weakly as she strode forward. Lucane rushed forward and caught her in his embrace. “It’s okay,” he said loud enough for the press to hear. “You are home.”

 

***

 

Haresh observed Kaas city from the canopy of his ship. The image of a Neimodian was projected behind him, though he did not respect the alien enough to turn. The creature had once belonged to his master. Now the worm answered to him. “Why haven’t you found him yet?” The Sith sneered. “It is hard to find a dead man, my lord,” the alien's calm voice replied.

 

Haresh spun around and glared at the creature. “He is not dead,” the Sith spat. “Find him or I’ll crush you like the insect you are.” The Neimodian bowed his head. “My lord,” he acknowledged. The zabrak turned off the projector with a wave of his hand. “I can sense him,” he whispered to himself as the bridge grew dark. He haunts my dreams, he wanted to add.

 

***

Lucane grinned broadly as Scirio walked into his office. “There he is,” the noble said, getting up to embrace the man. “My champion, my myrmidon!” The Hapan smiled back, though there was no warmth in his eyes. “I apologize for keeping you waiting for so long. The media on this planet are like vultures and this wedding is the juiciest carcass they have found in ages,” Lucane explained as he walked back to his side of the desk.

 

Scirio remained silent. It unnerved Lucane but he hid it well. “Then again the people of Alderaan deserve some escapism after all they’ve gone through.” The Hapan finally spoke. “How much do you have for me?” Lucane’s grin dropped as he got up. “Considering the costs that come with the wedding. Your reward will be a bit more modest than agreed. But you may expect a considerable raise that will more than make up for it.” He grabbed a folded letter from his pocket and extended it towards Scirio. The Hapan took it and glanced at the figure written down, then nodded. Lucane’s grin returned. Commoners were so easy to please.

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Just wanted to say I'm happy to see this story continue. I've been following along quietly for a while since last year. Glad to see you picked it up again. Looking forward to the next part. :)

 

Thank you! I'm hoping to update a bit more regularly.

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Destiny.

 

Haresh felt wary when he walked upon the stairs leading to the Sciriato estate. He did not know how his former master’s family felt about his arrival. Officially, the family had distanced and disowned their son. But that did not mean they didn't hold a grudge against him. He could very well be walking to his death.

 

The Zabrak glanced at a servant from under his hood. They had sent a single slave to greet him, an obvious insult. But he would not rise to the bait, he would keep his calm. “My lord,” the slave said with a deep bow. “I was ordered to inform you that the Sciriato’s other meetings are running late. But I will be here if you need any refreshments.

 

Haresh’s mouth formed a thin line. Of course they would be late. They would make him wait to drive home where the balance of power tipped. Haresh nodded and sat down, crossing his legs. “Let me know when they are ready to see me,” he instructed.

 

**

 

Than’so Sciriato was watching the wedding from one of the hundreds of feeds. The event was being broadcast all around the planet and even further. A minor noble house wouldn’t usually draw so much attention. But this was different. This wedding had all the makings of a fairytale and Alderaan loved its stories.

 

Though he couldn’t attend without risking being caught on the holonet, he did not need to be. He no longer needed to lead from the front. He had lost a lot after his men turned on him. Wealth, influence and even some degree of fame. He no longer needed any of these. The only thing he needed was Rain. Though she did not realize it, the girl would serve as a buffer for his shadow war.

 

His master had once warned him that there were many types of battlefields. The arena he found himself in was a whole new one to discover and exploit. Than’so smiled slightly and raised his glass as the newly weds on the screen cemented their lies with a kiss.

 

***

 

It had been nearly five hours since Haresh’s arrival and he was seething with anger. He had expected to be made to wait, but not for this long. He was a Lord of the Sith, not some slave to be fetched at convenience. Those days were long over.

 

The door to the estate opened and the servant that had initially greeted him walked towards him. “The Lady Sciriato will now see you,” he announced. Haresh got up with a grunt and followed the slave in. A pureblood woman looked at him from across the hallway, she wouldn’t even meet him in a formal chamber.

 

“My lady,” Haresh said, bowing. The woman glanced at him in annoyance. “Yes, what is it you want?” she asked sharply. Haresh took a deep breath. “I have reason to suspect my old master is alive.”

 

He felt a slight tremor in the force. The woman tilted her head. “So you could not even kill a traitor,” she mocked. “I am not surprised.” The woman’s voice was as cold as ice. But Haresh had noticed the slight hesitation before she said the word "traitor." He was still her son after all. “I was hoping you would be able to help me locate him,” Haresh said. “This sounds like your mess,” the woman replied. “Why would we help?”

 

Haresh drew on the force to make himself look more imposing. “To prove that you are not also traitors,” he spoke loudly. If he was hoping for a reaction, he did not get it. His efforts were like trying to get emotions out of a rock. He wondered if the woman was using a technique in the force to obfuscate her real feelings or if she had none. “I don’t feel compelled to prove anything,” she shrugged before turning to the slave. “Make sure our guest finds his way out.”

 

Haresh was trembling with rage when he left the building. He considered strangling the Sciriato slave for his master’s insolence. But what would that prove? The Sith turned when he heard the estate’s door open again. A young pureblood jogged out, stopping in front of him. The girl had a net shaped scar covering the left side of her face. “You are looking for my brother,” she pointed out before reaching for her lightsaber. The zabrak stepped back as she suddenly bowed her head and held up the weapon, as if she was offering it. “I will help you find him,” she added. “We will destroy him together.”

 

***

 

It was getting late and Lucane was exhausted after the long, long day. He loved the game of politics, but even this much was beyond him. He was ready to go to sleep until Ranania suddenly walked into the room. Her wedding dress was gone, replaced by a simple black robe. Her wig was off, revealing the short buzzcut underneath. She didn’t look anything like the stunning image from earlier. “Ranania?” he asked. She winked at him and dampened the lights instead of replying. Lucane felt his energies return to him as he saw her feminine silhouette stride towards him. He didn’t think the girl would have wanted to actually consummate their marriage. It’s like she had returned a totally different person. “Ranania?” he asked again.

 

“You keep calling me that?” she said playfully as she leaned over him. Lucane grinned, he always enjoyed games. “What should I call you?” The girl smiled and pushed him back. “Rain,” she said. “Well if you’re Rain, then where is Ranania?” he added before the girl suddenly had an impossibly strong hold on his throat. Her smile didn’t even falter as she squeezed the air out of him. She calmly lifted him off the bed before speaking. “Ranania was weak, so I destroyed her.”

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  • 1 month later...

Aftermath

 

“Hello viewers. We’re sitting down with Duchess Lucane today for an exclusive interview. As everyone is aware, the Duchess married the handsome Duke a little over six months ago. Duchess, how has it been adjusting to married life?”

 

The hovering camera droid turned away from the interviewer and to the noble. “Please feel free to call me Ranania,” she started. “As for your question, it has exceeded my expectations. My husband is every inch the charming prince I grew up dreaming about.”

 

The interviewer nodded. “I understand your husband could not make it today,” she started again. “Yes, I do apologize. He had an emergency meeting to attend to for our foundation.”

 

The interviewer quickly checked her notes. “You are talking about the Galactic Peace and Prosperity foundation. From what I gather it is proving to be a wild success, breaking an Alderaan fundraising record.” Ranania smiled. “It is true, we did break an old record, however I would not call our foundation a success just yet. When the people of Alderaan can feel a change in their day to day lives, then I will be glad to call our efforts a success.”

 

“That is actually something I wished to address. It strikes me as.. exceptional that you were able to amass such vast funds. When it remains somewhat unclear to the public what the specific goal of your foundation is.” Ranania hid her annoyance. “We wish to make a difference in the lives of the everyday people of Alderaan.”

 

“Yes, you mentioned that, but what changes are you bringing… and how?” Ranania paused briefly. “Civil war has taken a massive toll on our planet. Yesterday’s event have only made things worse.”

 

“You are talking about the destruction of the Zakuul Fortress,” the interviewer clarified for her viewers. Ranania inclined her head. “The future has only turned more uncertain. What if The Eternal Empire blames us for the actions of a few? Peace and stability are needed now more than ever.”

 

“Yes, again-” the reporter started but Ranania cut her off. “Frankly, I do not care who ends up on the throne.” The interviewer paused in shock at the strong statement. “Our foundation aims to be a neutral force. Helping those who suffered due to the war.” The interviewer turned to the camera droid. “Stay with us, when we return, we will take a deep look at the love story that encaptivated Alderaan.”

 

***

 

Scirio walked around the wreckage of the Star Fortress. His personal guard was busy setting up a perimeter around him. For all his planning, he had remained blind to this sudden development. Though he had suspected there were more rebels out there, he did not expect them to act so soon.

 

The Sith closed his eyes and allowed his consciousness to drift through the force. The sense of fear and destruction that had took place only hours before still lingered… but there was something more.

 

Scirio opened his eyes and became little more than a blur as he moved through the wreckage. With a wave of his arm, he threw a metal plate through the air and uncovered a knight in full armour. He could sense the man was barely clinging onto life inside his shell. The knight was drawing on the force to protect his broken body. Scirio smiled and grabbed his comlink. “I need a medical shuttle, asap.”

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