(Ember POV)
( 1 month later/11 months till Academy)
Ember leaned back in her chair, letting out a long, controlled breath as her consciousness slowly returned to the physical world. The transition from virtual reality to actual reality always left her feeling slightly disoriented, like surfacing from deep water into bright sunlight. Her force sight took a moment to come back to her as the artificial world faded and the normal world reasserted itself.
She rubbed her working eye gently with the back of her hand, blinking several times to clear away the lingering afterimages from the educational simulation. The virtual classroom had been incredibly detailed, almost indistinguishable from reality except for the subtle wrongness that a lack of Force sight always gave her during the lessons. The holographic instructor had been patient and thorough, but there was something fundamentally disconnecting about learning through direct neural interface compared to traditional methods.
Reaching up to the side of the table, Ember grasped the slim interface plug that connected her to the computer's educational systems. The device was barely thicker than her finger, its metallic surface warm from the data transfer that had just concluded. With a slight tug, she disconnected the plug from the port and let go. The moment she released the plug, it retracted automatically into its housing with a soft whirring sound, like a measuring tape snapping back into place. The retraction mechanism was built into the side of her neck, nearly invisible except to her Force sight, which allowed her to perceive the thin cable as it coiled itself neatly into the subcutaneous compartment. She shivered slightly as she felt the final millimeters of the plug settle into place.
"How did the lesson go today?" Vex's voice came from directly behind her, warm with genuine interest.
Ember turned in her chair to find Vex perched on the edge of her desk, her impressive seven-foot frame somehow managing to look casual despite the formal Imperial clothing she wore. Even in the comfort of their apartment, Vex maintained the crisp appearance of someone working, though she'd removed her jacket and rolled up her sleeves, a small concession to domestic life that Ember had learned to interpret as signs of Vex's relaxed mood.
"It was... slightly weird" Ember admitted, reaching forward to activate her computer's display terminal. The screen flickered to life with the distinctive blue glow of Imperial educational software, its interface clean and efficient in the way that characterized most government-issued technology. "I'm still getting used to the virtual reality aspects of it. The interface makes everything feel so real, but it feels like I'm missing a limb without my second sight."
As she spoke, Ember adjusted the screen's angle so that Vex could see it clearly from her position on the desk. The display showed her test results from the day's educational session, organized in the methodical format that Imperial assessment programs favored. The interface was stark but functional.
The report was divided into three sections, each representing an area of Imperial academic standards. Math appeared first, showing a score of 60 out of 100. The grade was highlighted in amber, indicating room for improvement but acceptable progress. Below that, History displayed a score of 55, marked in pale red to indicate below-average performance. Science rounded out the assessment with a score of 75, highlighted in green to show above-average achievement.
Vex leaned forward slightly to study the results, her pale gray eyes scanning the detailed breakdown that accompanied each score. Her expression remained neutral and encouraging, showing none of the disappointment or frustration that Ember had learned to expect from reviewing her performance.
"Good job" Vex said with genuine approval, nodding her head in satisfaction. "You've made decent progress in the time you've been here. The Imperial Academy requires a minimum score of 80 in each section for admission consideration, so you have time to improve before we need to worry."
Ember felt a small surge of pride at the praise, though she tried not to let it show too obviously on her face. Receiving genuine encouragement from someone who cared about her wellbeing was still a novel experience. Vex's matter-of-fact delivery made the praise feel earned rather than patronizing.
Ember reached for one of her metallic smoking devices, which had been resting on the desk near the edge within easy reach. The familiar weight of the cylinder in her palm was comforting as she cracked the device once along its middle seam, producing the soft hiss of activation that had become one of the most reassuring sounds in her daily routine. Bringing it to her lips, she took a careful draw, mindful as always to turn her head and exhale the vapor away from Vex. The distinctive metallic scent of processed Clouzon-36 filled the air briefly before dissipating in the apartment's efficient ventilation system.
"The history section is still giving me trouble" Ember admitted, taking another measured drag from her device. "There's so much information about the galaxy, and most of it contradicts what Cherry and I were taught."
"History is often written by the victors kid, and the perspective changes depending on who's doing the teaching. The truth usually lies somewhere between the two positions."
"Is that why the Empire exists?" Ember asked, genuinely curious about the political realities she was learning to navigate. "To fix the problems the Republic couldn't solve?"
"That's certainly one of the official explanations" Vex replied carefully in her tone. "Whether the Empire has been successful in achieving those goals... well, that's a question each citizen has to answer for themselves."
"Going back on topic, the science scores are encouraging" Vex continued, steering the conversation back to the test results."
"The virtual dissection exercises are actually kind of fascinating" Ember admitted, surprised by her own enthusiasm for the subject. "Being able to examine anatomical structures from multiple species, understanding how different physiologies work its all so interesting."
"Knowledge is power, Ember. The more you understand about yourself and the galaxy around you, the better equipped you'll be to make your own choices about your future. That's one of the reasons why this education is so important. It gives you options."
Vex leaned closer to Ember, her imposing frame casting a shadow across the desk as she glanced at the chronometer display in the corner of the computer screen. The time read 14:30 standard Imperial time, and Ember could see Vex's expression shift slightly as she processed whatever internal schedule she was following.
"Speaking of challenges" Vex said, straightening up and stepping away from the desk with purpose, "it's time for a workout." She clapped her hands together once, the sharp sound echoing in the comfortable confines of Ember's room. "Your physical training is just as important as your academic progress, and we've got about an hour before Cherry gets back from her art lesson with Sera."
Ember stretched in her chair, feeling the pleasant ache of muscles that had been sitting stationary for too long during her lesson. The sessions in that cyberspace always left her feeling slightly disconnected from her physical form, and the prospect of moving her body was actually appealing. Over the past month, she'd discovered that she genuinely enjoyed the physical training sessions, even when they left her exhausted and occasionally bleeding.
As they exited her room and began making their way downstairs to the first level, Ember found herself curious about Vex's recent activities. During her first few weeks in the apartment, Vex had seemed constantly busy with Imperial matters either leaving somewhere or on her holo communicating with someone, but lately she'd been around the apartment much more frequently.
"What have you been up to lately?" Ember asked as they descended the stairs, her hand trailing along the polished banister. "You seem to have a lot more free time than when we first arrived."
Vex smiled, and there was something genuinely relaxed in her expression that Ember had rarely seen before. "I'm enjoying what passes for a vacation in my line of work" she replied, her voice carrying a note of satisfaction. "Things seem to be in a lull right now. The major intelligence operations I was involved in have wrapped up successfully, and the political situation across Imperial space is relatively stable."
"Does that happen often?" Ember pressed, genuinely curious about the rhythms of Intelligence work. "The lull periods, I mean."
"Not as often as I'd like" Vex admitted with a slight chuckle. "Imperial Intelligence tends to operate in cycles periods of intense activity followed by brief respites while we analyze results and plan the next phase of operations. The key is taking advantage of the quiet moments when they present themselves."
They reached the first floor, and Ember could hear the soft murmur of the holovision from the common area where Cherry was presumably engaged in her afternoon lessons with Sera.
"I've also been using the downtime to catch up on administrative work" Vex continued as they walked toward the back of the apartment. "Fifteen years of active field operations generate an enormous amount of paperwork, and I've been reviewing case files, updating contact databases, that sort of thing. Plus, there's been all the documentation required for you and Cherry's legal status as my wards."
"Is that complicated?" Ember asked, remembering the brief mentions of bureaucratic processes that had surrounded their transition to civilian life.
"More tedious than complicated" Vex replied with a wry smile. "The Empire loves its documentation. Every decision, every resource allocation, every change in legal status has to be recorded, filed, cross-referenced, and approved by multiple departments. I've probably filled out more forms in the past month than I did in the previous year."
They reached the door to the workout room, the same space where Ember had experienced her first real lesson about the brutal realities of Imperial Intelligence training. The memory of that devastating sparring session still sent a chill down her spine, though the space itself had become familiar and even welcoming over the weeks of regular training.
"But I have to admit" Vex added as she opened the door, "I'm enjoying the domestic life more than I expected. Having you and Cherry around has been... refreshing. It reminds me that there's a world outside of work so that has probably cheered up Sera also."
Ember separated from Vex as they entered, heading toward the equipment area where personal gear was stored. She'd developed her own pre-training routine over the past month, and the familiar ritual helped her transition from academic mindset to physical readiness.
Moving with practiced efficiency, Ember pulled her tunic over her head and tossed it onto a nearby bench, leaving her in the form-fitting athletic garment that Sera had helped her select during one of their shopping expeditions. The workout outfit was designed for maximum mobility while providing appropriate support a far cry from the loose shapeless clothing she'd first worn.
She reached for her metallic smoking device, taking one final draw to ensure her vision remained stable during the physical exertion to come. Once finished, she tossed the device into a nearby waste receptacle, knowing she could retrieve it after the session if needed.
Next came the hand wraps. She'd learned the proper wrapping technique from Vex during their early training sessions, and the process had become almost meditative. Each loop around her palm, each weave between her fingers, helped focus her mind on the physical challenges ahead.
The wrapping process took several minutes as she had to go her arms with it, during which Ember could feel her body beginning to shift into combat readiness. Her breathing deepened, her muscles loosened, and her awareness expanded to encompass the entire training space. Through her Force sight, she could sense Vex positioning herself near the ring's edge, her energy signature calm but attentive.
With her hands properly wrapped and protected, Ember approached the boxing ring and climbed through the ropes with movements that had become smooth and confident over weeks of practice. As she entered the ring, she finally looked at the new droid that was in the corner of the ring and it scared her slightly. Its chassis was composed of sleek metallic plates in gunmetal gray, with red photoreceptors where eyes would be on a person.
As Ember settled into the ring, the training droid's optical sensors suddenly blazed to life with brilliant red illumination. The machine's head turned toward her with smooth, mechanical precision, and she could hear the soft hum of internal systems activating throughout its frame. Various servo motors whirred quietly as the droid performed what appeared to be a systems check, its articulated limbs moving through basic range-of-motion tests.
"What is that?" Ember asked, unable to hide the mixture of curiosity and apprehension in her voice as she stared at the imposing mechanical figure. "I've never seen it before."
Vex positioned herself just outside the ring, her arms crossed as she observed the setup with professional interest. "That's a Mark VII combat training droid" she explained, her voice carrying the authority of someone intimately familiar with Imperial military technology. "It arrived yesterday while you were in your educational session. It's on loan from the Imperial War College, specifically designed to provide realistic combat training for advanced students. More importantly, it can adapt its tactics based on your performance, providing increasingly challenging opposition as your skills improve. "
"Training protocol standby" the droid announced in a synthesized voice that carried no emotion but perfect clarity. Its head remained fixed on Ember, those red optical sensors tracking her every movement with unwavering focus. "Awaiting instruction parameters."
Vex's expression grew more serious as she prepared to initiate the training session. "Training droid, initiate protocol three-beta," she commanded, her voice carrying the crisp authority that Imperial military equipment was designed to recognize and obey without question.
"Protocol three-beta acknowledged" the droid responded immediately.
The machine's posture shifted dramatically as its programming engaged. What had been a neutral, almost casual stance transformed into something unmistakably combat-ready. Its feet spread to shoulder width, providing a stable base of support. Its arms came up into a defensive position that somehow managed to look both protective and threatening simultaneously. The mechanical precision of its movements was unsettling there was no wasted motion, no nervous energy, just pure functional efficiency.
Ember mirrored the droid's preparations, falling into the defensive stance that Vex had drilled into her during countless training sessions over the past month. Her wrapped hands came up to protect her face and torso, her feet found the proper spacing and angle, and her weight settled into the balls of her feet for maximum mobility. She could feel her breathing deepen and her awareness expand as her body prepared for combat.
"Remember everything we've practiced" Vex called from outside the ring, her voice carrying both encouragement and warning. "The droid will test your technical skills, but it will also try to exploit any weaknesses in your defensive patterns. Stay focused, stay mobile, and trust your instincts."
Ember nodded, taking a careful draw from her Force sight to assess the situation. The droid's mechanical nature made it difficult to predict its intentions the way she might with an organic opponent, but she could sense the energy patterns of its various systems as they prepared for action.
"Both fighters ready?" Vex asked, her tone taking on the formal cadence of an official training instructor. She waited for acknowledgment from both participants before continuing. "Begin combat assessment... start!"
The droid moved with startling speed for something so mechanical. Its first attack was a perfectly executed jab aimed at Ember's face—not quite fast enough to be impossible to react to, but certainly quick enough to test her defensive reflexes. Ember managed to slip the punch by moving her head to the side, feeling the mechanical fist pass close enough to disturb her hair.
"Good slip" Vex called from ringside, "but keep your hands up! You're dropping your guard when you move your head!"
Immediately following the jab, the droid launched a cross with its other hand, this one targeted at her midsection. Ember brought her guard down to block, absorbing the impact on her wrapped forearms. The force of the blow sent vibrations up through her bones.
She responded with a quick counter-jab of her own, aiming for the droid's center mass where its primary processing unit was likely housed. Her fist connected solidly with the machine's chest plate, producing a satisfying metallic impact that resonated through the ring although it seemed the droid absorbed the hit without apparent damage.
"Nice counter, but you're telegraphing your punches!" Vex's voice carried both encouragement and instruction. "Your shoulder moves before your fist—the droid can read that. Keep your shoulders loose!"
The exchange continued with both fighters testing each other's capabilities. The droid pressed forward with a combination attack—jab, cross, hook—each strike perfectly timed and technically sound. Ember managed to dodge the first two attacks by using footwork to stay just outside the machine's range, but the hook caught her on the shoulder as she tried to circle away. The impact spun her slightly off balance, though she managed to recover quickly.
"You're backing straight up! Circle left or right! Make it work to find you!"
Ember adjusted her footwork, moving laterally as she'd been taught, but the droid adapted instantly to her new pattern. It cut off her angle with a sidestep and launched a devastating uppercut that caught her off guard. She managed to lean back just enough to avoid the full force of the blow, but the mechanical fist grazed her chin hard enough to snap her head back.
Stunned by the near-miss, Ember stumbled backward and found herself trapped against the ropes. The droid pressed its advantage immediately, unleashing a barrage of body shots that tested every defensive technique she'd learned. She managed to block most of them, but several punches slipped through her guard, driving the air from her lungs and sending spikes of pain through her ribs.
"Don't panic!" Vex's voice cut through the chaos. "Clinch! Get in close and tie up its arms!"
Following the instruction, Ember lunged forward and wrapped her arms around the droid's torso, preventing it from throwing effective punches. For a moment, she thought she had gained control of the situation. But the droid's superior strength became apparent as it grabbed her around the waist and executed a perfect hip toss, sending her crashing to the mat with bone-jarring force.
Ember hit the canvas hard, the impact driving the breath from her lungs and sending shockwaves of pain through her back and shoulders. The droid stepped back to allow her to regain her feet.
Ember rolled to her side and pushed herself back to her feet, shaking her head to clear the disorientation from the throw. Her entire body ached, but her month of conditioning had improved her recovery time significantly. She raised her guard and began circling to her right, keeping the droid's left hand at a safer distance.
When it closed the distance again, Ember was better prepared. She launched a quick combination of her own—jab, cross, hook—that caught the machine off guard. Her jab snapped its head back slightly, her cross landed solidly on its chest plate, and her hook connected with what would have been its temple on a human opponent.
"Much better!" Vex called, genuine enthusiasm in her voice. "You're finding your timing! But watch your balance on that hook you're overcommitting!"
As if to demonstrate Vex's point, the droid immediately capitalized on Ember's extended position after her hook. It grabbed her arm and used her own momentum against her, spinning her around and applying a rear chokehold that lifted her off her feet. Ember struggled against the mechanical grip, her feet kicking uselessly as the droid's arms tightened around her neck and chest.
"Don't fight the hold, use it!" Vex instructed urgently. "Grab its arm and drop your weight. Create space!"
Ember followed the guidance, grasping the droid's arm with both hands and letting her body go limp. The sudden shift in weight distribution caused the droid's grip to loosen slightly, giving her just enough space to twist free and drop back to the mat. She spun away immediately, putting distance between herself and her mechanical opponent.
The fight continued with increasing intensity as both combatants found their rhythm. She managed to land several good shots on the droid, including a particularly satisfying uppercut that would have dropped a human opponent.
But the droid's superior processing power and mechanical advantages were equally apparent. It never tired, never lost focus, and never made the same mistake twice. When Ember tried to repeat a successful combination, the machine had already adapted its defenses. When she attempted to use the same footwork pattern, it anticipated her movement and cut off her escape routes.
"You're getting predictable again!" Vex warned as the droid cornered Ember near the ropes for the second time. "Mix up your timing! Fast-slow-fast! Make it guess!"
A perfectly timed counter-punch caught her flush on the jaw, sending her staggering backward with stars exploding across her vision.
Before she could recover, the droid closed the distance and executed another throw this time a simple but effective leg sweep that sent her crashing to the mat again. Ember hit the canvas face-first, the impact splitting her lip and sending a spray of blood across the white surface of the ring.
'This mat and my face I swear.'
Ember pushed herself up on her hands and knees, spitting blood onto the mat as she tried to clear her head. The metallic taste filled her mouth, and she could feel warmth trickling from her split lip down her chin. But her body responded to her commands, rolling to the side as the droid moved to follow up its advantage.
She regained her feet with visible effort, her movements slower and less coordinated than before. The accumulation of impacts was taking its toll her ribs ached from the body shots, her jaw throbbed from the counter-punch, and her back burned from the repeated falls to the mat.
"Time!" Vex called, her voice cutting through Ember's dazed state. "That's enough for today!"
________________________
(Vaylin POV)
(Image)
The world moved in strange, disjointed fragments around her—flashes of metal and lightning, the acrid taste of ozone and fear, and always, always, the steady rhythm of her mother's heartbeat against her cheek. Vaylin pressed herself closer to the familiar warmth of Senya's embrace, her small fingers clutching at the fabric of her mother's robed armor as they moved through corridors that seemed to stretch endlessly into shadow.
Everything felt different now. Wrong. The air itself seemed to whisper against her skin, carrying sounds that made no sense, voices that spoke in languages she didn't recognize, promising things she couldn't understand. Her body felt strange too, as if it belonged to someone else. The tattoos that now covered her arms and torso were still fresh, their intricate patterns raised slightly above her pale skin, tender to the touch and pulsing with an energy that made her teeth ache.
She rubbed her hands along her arms, feeling the unfamiliar texture of the markings that had been carved into her flesh. The Nathema zealots had called them pathways for the power that now flowed through her veins like liquid fire. Every movement sent ripples of sensation across the tattoos, as if they were alive.
'Child of shadow' whispered a voice that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere.
Vaylin's head turned sharply, searching for the source of the words, but there was nothing only the empty corridors of Nathema stretching endlessly around them. The voice hadn't been her mother's, hadn't belonged to any of the zealots who had tortured her with their rituals, their voices were scarred into her head, and she knew she wouldn't forget them. This was something else entirely, something that spoke directly into her mind with the intimacy of her own thoughts. SHE HATED IT.
She whispered, her voice barely audible above the sound of rain that had begun to fall through the broken ceiling above them. "I hear things."
Senya's step faltered for just a moment, her grip tightening protectively around her daughter. "What kind of things, little star?" she asked, her voice carefully controlled but unable to hide the worry that crept in at the edges.
"Voices" She replied, pressing her face against her mother's shoulder.
Senya's response was cut short by the sound of footsteps echoing through the corridor ahead multiple sets, moving with the disciplined precision of trained killers. The Knight-Mother's entire posture shifted in an instant, her maternal tenderness hardening into the lethal focus of a warrior who had faced death countless times before.
"Stay close to me." Senya commanded, her voice carrying the absolute authority that had once commanded the respect of the Eternal Empire's greatest champions. "No matter what happens, do not let go."
They emerged onto a bridge that spanned a massive chasm, its metal framework slick with rain and corrosion. The structure groaned under the weight of wind and weather, its supports singing with harmonics that seemed to echo the voices in her head. Lightning split the sky above them, illuminating the landscape of Nathema in stark, terrible detail.
On the far side of the bridge, six figures waited with the patience of death itself.
"Senya Tirall" called the leader, his voice distorted by the mask until it sounded more machine than man. "Return the child to us. The Eternal's will must be completed."
"My daughter stays with me" Senya replied, her free hand moving to the lightsaber at her belt. The weapon ignited with a brilliant flash of blue light, its blade humming with controlled energy that cut through the rain like a beacon of defiance.
'Watch child' whispered the dark voices, their tone carrying something that might have been approval. 'See how they struggle.'
Vaylin's eyes remained fixed on the confrontation unfolding before her, even as her small hands continued to trace the patterns of her tattoos. The markings seemed to pulse in rhythm with the lightsaber's energy, responding to the violence that was about to unfold. She could feel something building within her chest, something that made her blood sing with and match the storm above.
The zealots moved as one, their own weapons igniting in yellow brilliance as they advanced across the bridge. But where their movements were coordinated and precise, Senya's response was pure artistry a dance of light and motion that transformed the narrow span into her personal arena.
The first zealot reached her with an overhead strike that would have cleaved a lesser warrior in half. Senya deflected the blow with ease, her counter-attack opening the attacker from shoulder to hip in a spray of sparks and blood. The second zealot tried to exploit her overextension but found only empty air as Senya spun away from his strike, her lightsaber carving a deadly arc that removed his head with surgical precision.
The third zealot managed to land a glancing blow against Senya's shoulder, burning through fabric and flesh with a hiss of cauterized tissue. But the injury only seemed to fuel her fury, her next combination of attacks too fast for the eye to follow. The zealot's weapon was torn from nerveless fingers, his chest opened by a thrust that pierced straight through his heart and emerged from his back in a fountain of steam.
Rain continued to fall around them, turning the metal bridge slick and treacherous. The fourth zealot tried to use the conditions to his advantage, feinting high before sweeping low in an attempt to knock Senya from her feet. Her mother seemed to leap over the sweep with grace before bringing her lightsaber down in a two-handed strike that split her opponent from head to pelvis.
The fourth zealot's death was swift and brutal. Senya's lightsaber carved through him like a scythe through wheat, splitting him from shoulder to hip in a cascade of sparks and cauterized flesh. The smell of burned meat mixed with ozone filled the storm-lashed air as his body crumpled to the slick metal bridge, joining the growing collection of corpses that littered the path to freedom.
Something stirred in Vaylin's chest as she watched—a sensation that began as a flutter and quickly grew into something far more substantial. It wasn't fear or relief or even the twisted satisfaction she'd felt watching her tormentors die. This was something new, something that made her small hands curl into fists and her breathing quicken with anticipation she couldn't name.
As the fifth zealot engaged Senya in a desperate flurry of strikes, managing to land a glancing blow across her mother's shoulder that drew blood through the fabric, Vaylin felt the sensation in her chest expand. The zealot was weak...pathetically, disgustingly weak. His movements were crude, his technique flawed, his very existence an insult to the power that the galaxy claimed to revere.
'How pitiful' whispered a voice in the depths of her mind, darker and more commanding than the others that had plagued her since the conditioning began. This voice carried weight, authority, and a hunger that resonated with something deep in her bones.
The fifth zealot died as Senya's blade found his heart, the yellow glow of his weapon flickering and dying as his lifeless form collapsed. Vaylin's disgust deepened, spreading through her like poison in her veins. These so-called servants of her father's will were nothing. Less than nothing. They had spent months inflicting pain upon her, breaking her down piece by piece with their crude tools and cruder methods, and yet when faced with a single Knight of Zakuul, they fell like leaves before a storm.
'You see it now, don't you, child?' the voice continued, and Vaylin could almost feel it caressing the edges of her consciousness with phantom fingers. 'The weakness that surrounds you. The mediocrity that your father chose to shape you with. You are so much more than what they tried to make you. So much more than they could ever comprehend.'
"Yes" Vaylin breathed, the word barely audible above the storm but carrying a weight that seemed to make the very air tremble. "I see it."
The disgust was transforming now into a revulsion that was sharper, hotter, more alive. These zealots weren't just weak they were an affront to the very concept of power. They had dared to lay hands upon her, to think themselves worthy of inflicting their will upon someone whose potential eclipsed their entire pathetic existence.
Anger. Pure, incandescent anger that burned away the fog of pain and confusion that had clouded her thoughts since her arrival on this forsaken world. The ceremonial tattoos that covered her arms and torso began to burn with more than just the memory of pain, as if responding to the fire building within her chest.
Through the rain and the dying light of the zealots' lightsabers, Vaylin became aware of movement in the distance. Her senses, sharpened by months of torment and rituals, picked up the distinctive hum of atmospheric engines cutting through the storm. A ship was descending toward a landing platform perhaps two hundred meters ahead of their position on the bridge.
From the ship's boarding ramp emerged figures that Vaylin recognized immediately, even at this distance. Knights of Zakuul, their distinctive white and gold armor gleaming wetly in the rain, their movements carrying the precision and confidence that marked them as true warriors rather than the fumbling zealots who had been her jailers. They moved with purpose, their formation tactical and efficient as they secured the landing area.
But Vaylin's attention was drawn away from the new arrivals as the last of the zealots fell to Senya's blade. Her mother stood amid the carnage, her chest heaving with exertion, rain washing the blood from her lightsaber's blue glow. The Knight-Mother's eyes found Vaylin across the bridge, and for a moment, relief and joy flickered across her features.
"Vaylin!" Senya called out, her voice carrying across the distance between them. "Come little star! We need to go!"
The gap between them had grown during the fight. Perhaps twenty meters as Senya had moved and flowed through her combat, but it might as well have been twenty kilometers for all that Vaylin felt inclined to cross it. She took a step backward instead, her bare feet finding purchase on the rain-slick metal as something cold and terrible settled in her chest alongside the burning anger.
'Look at her' the voice whispered, and now Vaylin could hear amusement in its tone. 'Standing there so proudly, as if this pathetic display of combat prowess somehow erases years of abandonment. Where was this power when you were screaming in the chambers? Where was this strength when you needed it most?'
"Why did it take you so long?" She asked, her young voice carrying an edge that made Senya's expression shift from relief to concern. "You have all this power I can see it blazing around you like a star. You could have come for me at any time. You could have ended this months ago."
Senya took a cautious step forward, her lightsaber still ignited but held in a non-threatening position. "Vaylin, I tried—"
"Liar" Vaylin interrupted, taking another step backward. The anger was growing, feeding on itself and the whispered encouragements of the voice in her head. "You abandoned me here. You left me to be broken and reformed by these weaklings because it was easier than defying him. Because it was safer for you."
"That's not—" Senya began, but her words were cut off by the sound of mechanical doors grinding open somewhere behind Vaylin.
The young girl spun around, her senses immediately picking up the approach of multiple force signatures. The source of the mechanical noise became apparent a massive blast door built into the bridge's support structure, previously concealed by architectural design and the storm's obscuring rain.
From the darkness beyond the door stepped a figure that made Vaylin's breath catch in her throat despite her anger. Tall and regal, wearing armor that seemed to absorb the storm's fury while remaining untouched by it, her father emerged onto the bridge with the measured pace of absolute authority. Even at a distance, his presence was overwhelming not just in the Force, where his power blazed like a miniature sun, but in the sheer weight of command that he carried with every gesture and gaze from his eyes.
Behind Valkorion came more zealots, these were different from the crude killers that Senya had just died. These were the elite, the ones who had personally overseen every moment of her torment. Their black robes were pristine, unmarked by the storm, and their movements carried the practiced coordination of those who had spent months perfecting the art of breaking a child's spirit. Their faces were hidden beneath ceremonial masks, but she didn't need to see their features to recognize them.
As they passed close by her position on the bridge, walking in formation toward Senya, the proximity triggered something deep in Vaylin's traumatized psyche. The sight of those particular robes, that specific way of moving, the sound their boots made on metal—it all crashed over her like a wave of poisonous memory.
*Flash* Strapped to a table while masked figures chanted in languages that made her bones ache, their voices weaving patterns of sound that seemed to tear at the fabric of her mind.
*Flash* Ritualistic tattoos being carved into her arms by zealots who whispered words beyond comprehension, that breaking was the first step toward remaking.
*Flash* Being forced to watch as test subjects were torn apart by creatures, witness the dissection of their corpses, experience the effects of chemicals and implants while Jarak took notes and the zealots murmured approval.
*Flash* The particular zealot with the scar across his mask who had delighted in explaining each procedure that would be done to her before it began, his voice carrying false kindness that made every word a mockery.
*Flash* Waking up sat down while they shaved her head, the zealots chanting that she followed along without any thought. Her mind absorbing the imagery and energy that followed into her.
The memories crashed through her defenses like a tsunami of agony, each one perfectly preserved in excruciating detail The pain had been constant, unrelenting, designed not just to break her body but to shatter her sense of self entirely. Every moment had indeed felt like drowning without any chance of escape.
'Look at them' the dark voice whispered, its tone now carrying something beyond mere temptation it carried the weight of absolute judgment. 'Walking so casually past you, as if those months of screaming meant nothing. As if your suffering was just another day's work for them.'
Her anger, already burning bright, transformed into cold crystalline hatred. She watched them pass, noting the confident way they moved, the casual indifference with which they regarded her small form. To them, she was still the broken child they had spent so long remaking. Still their successful project. Still contained by their careful conditioning.
But Valkorion had positioned himself strangely. Rather than approaching with his zealots, he remained by the doorway, perhaps twenty meters distant. His golden eyes never left her, studying her with the intensity of a scientist observing a potentially unstable experiment. There was something in his posture, a careful readiness, that suggested he was prepared for violence.
'Why was he staying so far back?'
In the distance, beyond the ritual formation of zealots, Vaylin could see movement near the landing platform. The Knights of Zakuul who had emerged from their ship were now approaching Senya, their white and gold armor gleaming despite the rain. But rather than attacking, they seemed to be attempting to escort her back toward their vessel.
"Vaylin!" Senya's voice cut through the storm as she began to pull back from the advancing Knights, one hand extended toward her daughter. "Come with me, We can leave this place together!"
The plea hung in the air between them, full of desperate hope and years of regret. For a moment, Vaylin felt the familiar pull of her mother's love, the part of her that still remembered being held and comforted and told stories of heroes. But then one of the passing zealots, the one with the scarred mask turned his head toward her and made a sound of amusement. Just a small chuckle, barely audible above the storm, but Vaylin heard it clearly. The same sound he had made when explaining how the next day's procedures would be different, how they had thought of new ways to test her limits.
"Enough"
The power that had been building in her chest since watching the first zealots die exploded outward, but this time it was focused, controlled, purposeful. Her small hand extended toward the formation of black-robed figures, and the Force responded to her will with eager violence.
The zealots' confident stride faltered as invisible hands seized them, lifting their bodies into the air as easily as a child picking up dolls. Their masks turned toward her in what might have been surprise, but it was far too late for such realizations.
"You want to see what your conditioning created?" her voice carrying something that made the very air vibrate. "Let me show you."
She closed her fist, and the zealots' armor began to buckle and crack under impossible pressure. The sound of crushing metal mixed with their muffled cries as the Force compressed around them like an invisible vise. The scarred one tried to speak—perhaps to plead, perhaps to activate some failsafe—but no words could escape as his chest plate folded inward.
For the first time since this nightmare began, She could feel herself smile. With a casual gesture, as if discarding unwanted toys, she hurled their broken forms over the side of the bridge. The drop to the chasm below was considerable, and the storm swallowed their screams before they could hit bottom.
The sudden silence was profound. Even the thunder seemed to pause in the wake of what had just occurred.
Vaylin turned toward her mother, intending to close the distance between them and finally accept the escape that had been offered. But as she began to move, her father's voice cut through the rain like a blade.
"Stop."
The single word carried such absolute authority that for a moment, everything around seemed to slow. The raindrops hung suspended in the air like crystal beads. The lightning froze mid-strike. Even Senya's desperate gesture toward her daughter became locked in time, as if the universe itself had decided to pause and wait for Valkorion's next command.
Only Valkorion moved normally within this bubble, taking measured steps toward his daughter with the unhurried pace of someone who had all the time in the universe. His eyes never left her face, and there was something in his expression that went beyond curiosity or even concern there was a kind of terrible satisfaction, as if this moment was exactly what he had been waiting for.
As he drew closer, Vaylin felt her anger spike again, but now it was mixed with something else, disgust. Disgust at her own weakness, at how easily that single word had frozen her in place despite everything she had just accomplished. She had killed his precious zealots with barely a thought, had broken free of chains that were supposed to be her freedom, had demonstrated power that should have made him step back in caution.
Yet here she was, still responding to his commands like a trained animal.
How pathetic. How utterly, contemptibly weak.
Her anger raged as everything around her began snapping back to normal speed with an almost audible crack. Rain resumed its fall, lightning continued its dance, and the storm reasserted its natural rhythm.
Valkorion stopped perhaps ten meters away from her his hand rested casually on the lightsaber at his belt. The glow in his eyes seemed to pulse with each flash of lightning, and when he spoke, his voice carried the weight of absolute certainty.
"Interesting" he said, and that single word contained volumes of something she couldnt identify.
Before he could continue, before whatever web of manipulation he was weaving could tighten around her again, Vaylin felt a familiar hand settle gently on her shoulder. The touch was warm, reassuring, and utterly without fear despite what she had just done.
"Come" Senya said softly, "It's time to go."
Without waiting for a response, Senya began guiding her daughter toward the ship, moving with the kind of purposeful haste that suggested their window of opportunity was rapidly closing. The Knights of Zakuul stepped aside to let them pass, their loyalty clearly torn between their Emperor and Senya.
The boarding ramp stretched before them, a pathway leading away from the nightmare that had consumed her life. Senya's hand remained gentle but firm on her shoulder, guiding her forward with the determined pace of someone who had waited far too long for this moment.
As they began to ascend the ramp, Vaylin felt the weight of her father's gaze like a physical presence against her back. Each step should have been taking her further from his influence, further from the pain he had orchestrated, but something compelled her to stop halfway up the boarding ramp.
She turned around.
Valkorion stood exactly where she had left him, unmoving despite the rain that continued to soak through his robes. The storm raged around him, lightning illuminating his imposing figure in stark relief, but he seemed utterly unaffected by the chaos of the natural world. His golden Sith eyes locked onto hers across the distance, and in that moment, everything else the thunder, the rain, even Senya's gentle urgings faded into irrelevance.
The ship's engines began to whine with increasing intensity as the pilot prepared for departure. She could feel the subtle vibration through the deck plating, the gradual shift in gravity as the vessel started to lift away from the bridge. Still, neither she nor her father looked away.
As the ship continued to rise, the boarding ramp began its slow mechanical closure with a soft hydraulic hiss. The gap between daughter and father widened with each meter of altitude, but their eyes remained locked together until the very last moment. Even as the ramp sealed shut with a final, definitive clang, Vaylin pressed her small hand against the nearest viewport, watching as her father's figure grew smaller and smaller until he was just another dark speck on a storm-lashed bridge.
Only then did she turn away.