The library of the Shadow Academy was a quiet place of learning. Books of corruption and purity rested in the same complex, though it was somewhere closer to the center that Kerissa Monique found herself.
The collection of books she’d gathered threatened to tumble as she made her way to a seat, settling it on the sidetable before plucking the top most tome from it’s place. Darth Runis’ treatise on Dathomirian Magick was seemingly a lynch pin for the starter witch, or… sister. She leaned back into the chair, careful as she opened the cover and settled into the first few pages.
This was the first step on moving away from the dark side methods that were slowly killing her. No big deal.
Her tail, carefully wrapped around her leg, tapped with anxiety beneath her clothes.
Bril Teg Erinos, newly appointed Aedile of House Galeres, had just finished returning a collection of books detailing the recruitment tactics of Dark Side orders, particularly those that could accurately be described as “cults” based on the current academic criteria for the often loosely defined term. Barely a year had passed since Arcona’s storied history with The Pretenders culminated in the climactic Battle of Brimstone, and although the people of Selen were making genuine headway in their recovery from the devastating conflict, there was still much more to do. Bril, ever the vigilant defender and steward of his people, considered it his responsibility to stay abreast of current literature on the subject so he could more easily detect the signs of such nefarious activity in the future. He’d seen what those kinds of groups could do to people, the harm they could cause, and he wouldn’t allow that kind of evil to seize his home again.
Walking with his hands tucked into the long sleeves of his cloak, he headed toward the library’s entrance upon concluding his business. But when the shifting air of the room carried the faintest whisper to his ear, he stopped. The voice was both familiar and not, like returning to a place from one’s childhood that was but an echo of what one remembered – new and old. Nestled amongst a hundred threads – some light, many more heavy, and a few somewhere in the middle –hummed one whose timbre was wild, unconstrained … completely outside of typical metrics used to classify the Force. The call of his edalinare (ancestors) was hard to miss, and Bril was wont to answer it.
His search brought him to where a lavender-skinned woman was sitting. Her striking features immediately reminded him of someone else he knew, and for a moment, he wondered if there was some kinship between the two of them. But he dismissed that thought when he saw the book she was holding.
“On the Dathomiri: A Study of the Witches of Dathomir. Heavy reading,” he said, hints of his natural Iridonian accent coming out reflexively as he recited the book’s title, “Not many people pick that one up.” There was a hint of suspicion present in his voice that he made no attempt to hide as he watched with expectant crystal blue eyes.
Kerissa peered over her page, unsurprised by the Zabrak’s presence. The intent within the Force around him and the steady approach had warned Kerissa plenty in advance that she was likely to soon have company.
She shifted a book mark between the pages, barely a quarter of the way through by the time of this interruption, before closing the tome with gentle respect.
“And not many interrupt a fellow scholar reading.” She answered, maintaining her cool visibly but her wariness pulled her own grip on the Force closer to her chest. Holding the tendrils like a hand resting within reach to rest on the holster of a gun. “It seemed the best starting place for educating myself on the magicks of the Nightsisters. It’s certainly interestingly written, the author could work to put his opinions elsewhere. I think if this was pure factual it’d be half the size.”
“Typically, I wouldn’t. I know how precious research time is, and how it’s often in short supply,” he replied while extending two fingers down to trace an invisible line across the table; the simple gesture produced more than a dozen echoes that appeared in his consciousness and fizzled out an instant later like smothered flames – feelings of determination, curiosity, and quite a bit of anxiety over upcoming exams. Returning to the present, the Starosta nodded in response to the woman’s critique. “As brilliant as she was, Darth Runis’ work suffered because she thought she knew better than my people. You can practically hear her pride in the ‘superior’ ways of the Sith in every line.”
He tilted his head while watching her, his suspicion raising an appreciable amount when she mentioned wanting to learn more about Dathomirian Magick. Another opportunist looking to reap the spoils of his kin’s sacred practices? Or someone with a genuine fascination in them? Only time would tell.
If Kerissa bothered to listen to her senses, she would no doubt notice that the man standing before her possessed an aura I’m the Force that was equal parts Light and Dark, but undergirding both was something resembling a vast lake that was calm on its surface yet churning and roiling just beneath it. Wild and free.
Kerissa’s aura was a shadow in of itself. No light penetrated through the cracks, though the cracks were there. Almost invisible but with a brush of a finger they could be felt. She could feel the mirrored lake that made up Bril. It didn’t convince her of anything about him but the balance was peculiar. Rare. Many tried for it but few came close to managing it.
“It is the major flaw of the Sith. Arrogance. I can’t say I’m familiar with Runis, if it wasnt obvious by assuming she were male, but I can’t think of any Sith who named themselves a Darth without being obnoxiously confident.”
Kerissa knew it was obvious she stood among them. But she didn’t want to confirm it. Not when she was trying to stop being that way.
Her fingers tapped on the cover of the book.
“Spoken like someone with plenty of experience with the Sith,” he said glibly as if he was reading it off her dossier. The truth was that Bril’s Force senses were nearly unmatched, and to him, this woman might as well have had a giant sign above her stating exactly what her alignment was.
A slight flexion of his fingers seized the aged tome in an invisible grasp, pulling it across the table and right into his hand. “What business do you have that’s brought you here, to study the ways of Dathomir?”
She raised a white eyebrow at the blatant rude gesture, but provided no resistance. Kerissa leaned back into the seat, resting one leg over her other knee. His aura filled the room and a sigh escaped her.
“Alternate methods. As I’m sure you can tell, the Force within me is the type to have a cost. It’s not one I desire to keep paying. Is that a problem, Mr…?”
“Erinos. Bril Teg Erinos,” he replied, “And it isn’t a problem yet, but whether it becomes one depends entirely on how you intend to approach your newfound curiosity.” Bril narrowed his eyes at her. “Your critique of the Sith philosophy was astute, yet it seems like you’re just looking for another way to gain power … to take and offer nothing in return.” And if that were true, she wouldn’t be the first nor the last. Generations of Sith and other Dark Side adherents had attempted to uncover the secrets of Dathomirian Shamanism, and since joining the Brotherhood, he’d had the displeasure of witnessing several of its pledges appropriating Magick for petty gain.
“Well I assume that concept would be a bit further through the book. I’ve yet to make plans beyond intent.” Kerissa spoke blandly, “Do I have to complete a test on Nightsister knowledge to learn Nightsister knowledge?”
She offered a thin smile after a pause, “Perhaps I should have expected this.”
It wasn’t anger that resonated within the woman, just a prominent fatigue and weariness.
“The test isn’t about knowledge and more about intent,” he explained, “Some of us actually value these teachings beyond what the power they can offer us. I only mean to ensure that yet another person doesn’t take advantage of an already broken people.”
“You’re making a lot of assumptions about me, Mr Erinos. I value everything I learn. I value the people I learn it from. I am not sure how to approach anyone about this without-” Kerissa gestured widely at him, then pointedly toward the book, “So I came to the books to learn before making an ass of myself. There is no point to me learning this if I end up back where I started. Sith teachings won’t help me learn anything but the Sith teachings. Is that enough of my intents to satisfy you?”
Bril remained silent for a moment while watching her with an appraising look. He listened closely for the whispers that would reveal the truth to him that lips and posture could so easily conceal. When they offered nothing beyond what appeared to be the case on the surface, he visibly relaxed, letting his shoulders drop a bit and placing the tome back on the table. She was telling the truth.
“It does,” he replied, “And more importantly, it satisfies the edalin.” The zabrak took two steps away from the table before turning back and gesturing for her to follow. “Come with me. If you want to learn about my people, then there’s no better way to do so than learning from the source.”
My people.
She had figured with the severe defensiveness the young man had taken upon himself, but it was good to have it confirmed. Her interest rose, though caution still remained. Unfortunately, Bril still had the book so either way she had to follow the Zabrak.
“If we aren’t staying in the building I’ll have to deny going to a second location with a stranger.” Kerissa answered, slowly standing up before following him. They stood eye to eye, her BD-Droid *Lupin * whirring to life from under her chair and waddling after them.
He glanced at her from over his shoulder, which concealed a wry grin. “I appreciate your skepticism, but I have no intention of harming you,” he assured her, “We’ll be speaking in my office, if that’s alright with you.”
After exiting the main library, he walked over to a hololift on the other side of the busy hallway and turned to face her, waiting.
His office. Well kist. She hesitated before entering the lift but stepped into it. Fighting was a no no within the walls of the Academy usually. It’d be fine.
Kerissa stood beside him, “My name is Kerissa, by the way. Kerissa Monique.”
A few minutes later, they arrived on the Shadow Academy floor home to most of the faculty associated with the Collegium’s History Department. Bril’s office was located in the Archaeology Wing at the far end of the floor. It was relatively simplistic in design, featuring furniture with muted tones and a large bookshelf located between his desk and the window overlooking one of many fields used for recreation by students and faculty. Save for the broad selection of books and the pictures of Bril with his family members on his desk, the office was devoid of personal decorations. Once Kerissa was inside, he closed the door behind her.
“How much do you about the people of Dathomir? About our history?”
Kerissa found a reasonably open spot to take up, hands clasped behind her back as she looked over the selection of books. She took note of the faces in the frames on his desk but none rang any bells at a glance.
“Minimal. I’m aware of the existence and well…” She hesistated. In theory, she should know much about them but her family had kept her isolated. All she knew of Dathomir despite hailing from it was their complex hidden far from any other people. However if Bril was from there, he’d expect her to know things her knowledge gap could only be explained by telling him what she was. Who she’d been raised by. No. “Yes. Minimal. It’s known as the death planet by some and the Envoy Corp recently retrieved an artefact from there. It’s a powerful place.”
As Kerissa struggled (or perhaps, meandered around) her explanation, Bril tilted his head slightly as the Force whispered to him. While her answer was correct and she wasn’t being deceptive per se, but she was withholding something from him. But, they had only just met, and it wasn’t his place to press the issue.
“The Witches of Dathomir were nearly exterminated during the Clone Wars,” he said matter-of-factly, as if he were reading it from a textbook, “Some survived and created enclaves elsewhere in the galaxy. Much has been lost, and some amongst our numbers are fiercely protective of what remains.”
“Sensible.” Kerissa responded, settling in emotionally to listen. To learn. This was going to be miles better than any damned book.
“Though you say some. I assume there’s a divide, disaster often causes such things.”
“Right. The people of Dathomir weren’t in complete agreement before that point, either, but now their descendants, both those who remained and who live in diaspora, have had to define for themselves what it means to be Dathomiri.
"And, of course, nearly going extinct has required many of them to be more … flexible with the rules of admission. Take myself, for example. I’m from Iridonia, the original world of all Zabraks. I didn’t learn about my Dathomirian heritage until joining the Brotherhood, and I would have never been allowed to learn my people’s magick under the old ways.”
“Quite a tapestry of a heritage.”
She left the center of the room, finding a more complacent spot to stand in. Kerissa shifted her hips, giving her tail a bit of extra room for a moment where it was hidden wrapped around her thigh. It was a thoughtless motion, mulling over the dominoes that had long since been tipped.
“Though this is sounding an awful lot like I ought not to be taught the magick. At least in a significant mass of opinions, considering I have no blood relating me to the people of Dathomir.” Or at least, not directly. That could be something she’d be able to sort out herself another time.
“A tapestry …,” he muttered to himself, letting the weight of the words linger on his lips, “That’s often how the spirits speak of the Force. Of all the lives that comprise it. A tapestry, a web shaped by unseen hands, and constantly shifting with the choices of the living and the lingering will of the dead.
"Like I said, the ways have evolved out of necessity. If the spirits consider you worthy, then there is nothing I or any other living descendant can say to deny you. But, if they find you wanting, well … you won’t have to worry about anything after that.”
Kerissa snorted, a smile crossing over her face as she shook her head. It was a bitter noise, though her determination didn’t waver.
It was ironic, really. To prevent the slow decay toward death she had to risk immediate death. It was never easy, nor fair. By the galaxy beyond, it wasn’t fair.
What had the spirits resting upon Dathomir seen her do? Would they judge her for actions shed had removed from her mind?
“What is the typical terms of worthiness in their eyes?”
“That’s something you’ll have to ask them,” he said, “The terms of each pact vary depending on what the person holds dear. You must be willing to lose something in order to gain what the edalinare have to offer.”
Bril stepped over to his desk and fetched the grey and gold Envoy bag sitting next to the chair. After producing a talisman attached to a necklace made of braided animal sinew. The talisman itself was made of metal, with several etchings in an ancient script inscribing along its perimeter; there was an equilateral triangle connecting three of the letters, and a milky green gemstone inscribed within it.
“If this is really the path you want to go down, then I can arrange a parlay.”
Lose something? Great. Kerissa ran a hand through her hair, pushing it back behind her montrals and then her ears.
“Would that mean I get to hear their terms before they determine whether or not to kill me for trying?” She asked, eyes landing on the Talisman and watching it wearily. There was intrigue, but after his words of warning a healthy amount of caution. After a moment she added on, with a slight sigh, “Not that I have much choice…”
Bril nodded. “A deal made in duress or through deception isn’t as binding as one made willingly.” he paused for a moment, sensing the trepidation building in Kerissa’s mind. She was right to feel that way. It was a treacherous path that demanded respect, after all. “If you choose to walk this road, your life will be changed forever. Are you sure this is what you want to do?”
Kerissa lowered her hands from her head, staring at the tips of her fingers. Barely percievable on the tips of her grey fingers were the shadows of blackened veins. A fuzz in the sensation. She ran her thumb nail across each fingertip, before lowering her hands to her sides.
“Mr Erinos, the cost won’t be more than what I’ll pay if I don’t. Faster, perhaps, but it couldn’t be more. I’d at least like to hear the terms of commitment before I truly walk the road, so to say, but the old one is burning my feet.”
“Very well. Please, have a seat in the middle of the room.”
Bril went about the room to gather what he needed to begin: a nondescript wooden bowl, a long bone stylus inscribed with dathomirian sigils, a jar of what looked like moss, and four stone idols. He placed most of them in the center of the room atop the ornate rug there before moving on to place the stone idols in the four corners of the room. Once he finished, he set in front of the different items and gestured for Kerissa to sit across from him.
Kerissa let him finish before taking the seat, watching each item be placed. The arrangement wasnt surprising. A part of her desired to write it down but, this was far from the moment.
This was a lot more progress than she was expecting to make, either way.
With the movement settled, Kerissa got herself sat down in the chair, resting the leg her tail was secured around atop the other. Clasping her hands in her lap, she looked at him, waiting.
“Have you done this before? For another person.”
“I have not,” he replied, seemingly unperturbed by his lack of experience in that regard. He spoke with the spirits of his ancestors daily, albeit informally, and interceding on behalf of another person wasn’t so terribly different from that that Bril felt out of his depth. “But you needn’t worry. My connection with the edalinare is strong. We’ve come to an understanding over the years.”
Bril became silent again as he carefully placed the plant material inside the wooden bowl. One thing that Kerissa would notice was that when he removed the mossy substance from the jar, the entire roomed seemed to quiet as if it were holding its breath. Even the faint mechanical whirr of nearby equipment hushed. Next, he unclipped a small gourd from his belt and popped the cork. The liquid that cascaded from its mouth and into the bowl was dark purple in color, with several unidentifiable chunks interspersed throughout it. After emptying the contents of the gourd into the bowl, Bril took the engraved stylus next, and extended his free hand out to her.
“Give me your hand,” he said. Once she did, he quickly jabbed the tip of her finger with it, drawing blood. The needle’s tip found his lips, first, letting a single drop of the scarlet liquid fall on his tongue. “Hmm,” he remarked with knitted eyebrows, as if he was appraising the taste, “Good. Good. This will do.”
Without saying another word, he turned the stylus’ dripping tip down above the bowl, letting what remained of Kerissa’s blood drip into the oddly colored liquid below it. As soon as it touched the concoction’s surface, there was a flash of light as a mote of green flame shot up from the bowl before fizzling out immediately afterward. Bril looked up at her with a solemn expression, as if to ask her if she was ready.
“Sure.” Kerissa had to accept his confidence. She wasn’t exactly confident but she remained sat.
Nor did she flinch as he drew her blood, tasting it and then offering it to the spirits. Or, something. It was weird, either way.
Yet, the Kessuryn nodded when Bril looked to her.
Her eyes watched the remnants of green smoke dissipating into the air.
Bril gave a final nod before turning his attention back to the bowl sitting between them. Although what he’d said about him and the spirits of his edalinare, his ancestors, was true, Bril had dealt within them enough these last two years to know that although they never broke the terms of a deal, that didn’t mean that they all had one’s best interest at heart. He’d learned that the hard way when his great-great grandmother, Egon, attempted to supplant his spirit and take his body as her own when he last visited Dathomir. He needed to tread carefully; he didn’t know this woman well, but she had put her trust in him, so it was his responsibility to esnure that she came out of this with her mind and spirit in tact.
A heavy sigh helped ease the tension he felt building in his neck and jaw; then, without warning, he lifted the bowl from the floor, pressed the brim to his lips, and drank. And drank. And drank. Its acrid odor made his nose burn and his throat seize in an instinctual need to spew the vile concoction back out as quickly as it touched his unprepared (because how could one prepare for such a thing?) tastebuds. He forced himself to drink until half of the mixture remained, then shoved it into Kerissa’s hands so he could use his own to pat his chest in the hopes of fighting back the urge to puke on his ceremonial rug.
“This–hrrk–this will put us in a state of altered consciousness that’ll make it easier to initiate the parlay. Establishing contact is easiest when the mind is in a more suggestible state.”
He waited until she’d finished the brew to begin chanting, uttering a mantra of some sort in an ancient tongue, the mother tongue of Peridea and all her children. Eventually, after more than three dozen repetitions, the words spilled from his lips as his once clear annunciation transformed into a mumbling drone. His body began to roll and writhe to a silent rhythm, and the air became charged with the exhilarating presence of the Force as something wild, raw, and unconstrained by the opinions and dogmas of its most fickle and zealous devotees alike. This was the freedom that Sith coveted so fervently, having always been there, hidden beneath the philosophical detritus born from minds driven to understand yet destined to obscure in their attempts to explain the ineffable. In the room’s four corners, the eyes of the idol’s placed there glowed eerily as the two Force users fell deeper into the trance. The room started to spin, and a wave of splitting pain ripped through their minds, connecting them in the process when the shared trauma caused both to resonate in the Force with the same doleful tune. Then, just when it seemed as if the pain would tear them atwain, it stopped. Their minds settled again, at least enough for the disembodied whispers of a dozen or more voices to slip through the door that their shared entheogenic drink had left ajar.
“ɪᴛ ʜᴀꜱ ʙᴇᴇɴ ᴀ ʟᴏɴɢ ᴛɪᴍᴇ ꜱɪɴᴄᴇ ᴡᴇ ᴡᴇʀᴇ ᴄᴀʟʟᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴀ ᴘᴀʀʟᴀʏ,” one voice commented
“Qᴜɪᴛᴇ ᴀ ʟᴏɴɢ ᴛɪᴍᴇ, ɪɴᴅᴇᴇᴅ,” called another.
“ᴛᴏᴏᴏᴏᴏᴏ ʟᴏɴɢ.”
“ᴛʜᴇ ʏᴏᴜɴɢ ᴇʀɪɴᴏꜱ, ʜɪᴛʜᴇʀᴛᴏ ᴀʀɢᴀ, ʙʀɪɴɢꜱ ᴀɴᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʜɪᴍ. ʟᴇꜱꜱ ꜰᴀᴍɪʟɪᴀʀ … ʙᴜᴛ ɴᴏᴛ ᴜɴᴋɴᴏᴡɴ ᴛᴏ ᴜꜱ.”
Bril kept his head low, the crown of his head and the curved horns nestled within his chestnut-colored locs showing as if he were bowing his head. He shot Kerissa a look to ensure she did the same. Once the voices paused, he began to speak in a measured tone. “She wishes to learn our ways. To become a Sister of the Night. We humbly ask that you hear her offer and, should you find it appropriate to you, weave her thread into the vast tapestry of our kin.”
The air around Kerissa grew cold when the collection of unseen gazes fell upon her … watching, appraising. “ᴄᴀɴ ꜱʜᴇ ɴᴏᴛ ꜱᴘᴇᴀᴋ ꜰᴏʀ ʜᴇʀꜱᴇʟꜰ?”
The few moments of Bril speaking gave Kerissa enough time to collect herself. It was overwhelming, the sheer number of voices that seemed to thrum and throb around them. It made her want to wrap her hands around her ears, her montrals, to give some sense of space in one that was giving none of it.
By the time the voices focused, unseen eyes narrowing as if through her soul they could see her sins. But she would not yield to their intimidation, forcing her chin up now that she was spoken to.
“I can.” It was short and sweet, simple as her first step in communication. Hopefully not disrespectfully so… “I wish to alter my path. The one I have walked is the one I was placed on, not what I chose. I wish now to make that choice. It would be an honour to be among the Sisters should it be an option truly available to me.”
“ꜱᴏ, ɪᴛ ɪꜱ ꜰʀᴇᴇᴅᴏᴍ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ꜱᴇᴇᴋ?” inquired one spirit.
But before Kerissa could answer, another interjected. “ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴅᴏᴇꜱ ꜱʜᴇ ʀᴜɴ ꜰʀᴏᴍ, ɪ ᴡᴏɴᴅᴇʀ?”
Bril remained silent, listening intently while they spirits questioned the woman sitting across from him. This was, of course, his role – merely a mediator. It would take Kerissa to convince them that she was worthy of learning their magick.
As much as Kerissa didn’t want to reveal her past to a stranger, the spirits here weren’t that. Even if they were, lying to them would be a great way to get herself killed.
She exhaled slowly. “I run from death.”
After a moment she continued, sensing them watching her, waiting for more than such a vague statement, “Much of my life I have had no control over. My learning of the Dark Side was enacted too soon. I’m not three decades into my life yet I hold two decades of experience. Do not misunderstand me, I do not seek immortality.” She spat the poisonous word from her tongue, hatred flowing at even the thought, “But I do not want to die because of the Dark Side’s influence. I didn’t choose it’s shadow under my skin.”
She glanced behind her, instinctively wanting to see the faces of those around her but quickly straightened back out. Bolstered by the admissions already spoken, Kerissa opted to finish the tale.
“I have been running from my family wanting to take control of me. That would be a fate worse than death and it’s one that requires I have the ability to remain ahead of them. I cannot ignore the Force but right now it is killing me. I’m not sure if this is seeking freedom, perhaps it is, but I… I just want my life to be my own.”
Bril ruminated on Kerissa’s explanation quietly. Trepidation loomed in her mind like dark clouds on a stormy day – he couldn’t blame her. Sharing such precious details in the presence of a complete strange wasn’t something he’d like to do, either. When she mentioned immortality and he caught a glimpse of the utter disdain she felt for the concept, he frowned. How many had suffered due to the foolhardy ambitions of those who couldn’t accept that death was a natural part of life?
As she continued, explaining that her reliance on the Dark Side was killing her, his mind conjured memories of his own master lying in a hospital bed, comatose … his skin stricken with a deathly pallor, marred with bulging veins darker even than the tattoos that wreathed his emaciated countenance. The Force was killing him, too, taking in equal measure for all the times he’d commanded it, bending it to his will in service of others.
Once Kerissa finished, the voices began to speak again in a dizzying chorus.
“ᴛʜᴇ ꜱɪᴛʜ ʙᴏᴀꜱᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴋɴᴏᴡɪɴɢ ꜰʀᴇᴇᴅᴏᴍ, ʏᴇᴛ ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴀʀᴇ ꜱʟᴀᴠᴇꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ᴘᴀꜱꜱɪᴏɴꜱ.”
“ᴛʜᴇʏ ʙᴇʟɪᴇᴠᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ‘ꜰᴏʀᴄᴇ’, ᴀꜱ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴀʟʟ ɪᴛ, ɪꜱ ᴛʜᴇɪʀꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴄᴏᴍᴍᴀɴᴅ … ᴛʜᴇ ꜰᴀɴɢᴇᴅ ɢᴏᴅ ᴘᴜɴɪꜱʜᴇꜱ ᴛʜᴇᴍ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ʜᴜʙʀɪꜱ.”
“ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛʀᴜʟʏ ᴡɪꜱʜ ᴛᴏ ꜱᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄʜᴀɪɴꜱ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛᴀꜱᴄ'ɪ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴋᴇᴘᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ɪɴ, ᴛʜᴇɴ ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴜꜱᴛ ʜᴜᴍʙʟᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀꜱᴇʟꜰ. ᴛʜᴇ ᴘʀɪᴄᴇ ꜰᴏʀ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴀᴄᴄᴇᴘᴛᴀɴᴄᴇ ɪɴᴛᴏ ᴛʜɪꜱ ɴᴇᴡ ᴡᴀʏ ᴏꜰ ʟɪꜰᴇ ɪꜱ ʀᴇᴠᴇʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴀɴɴᴏᴛ ʙᴇɢɪɴ ᴀɴᴇᴡ ᴡɪᴛʜᴏᴜᴛ ꜰɪʀꜱᴛ ʀᴇᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀɪɴɢ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴏɴᴄᴇ ᴡᴀꜱ. ᴛʜᴇꜱᴇ ᴀʀᴇ ᴏᴜʀ ᴛᴇʀᴍꜱ.”
Kerissa was quiet. She didn’t know how long for. Revelation.
She would have to remember everything.
Trepidation built, it was something she’d wanted to do anyway. Truth was important, even if it was painful. Horrifying. Even if she’d been avoiding it for nearing a year since discovering for certain that her memories had been altered and hidden. Now, it wasn’t just knowing her own story in full, it was the next step to truly break herself free of her past.
The nod Kerissa gave in response was a small thing, but the movement gave her her voice back. “I accept your terms. Thank you.”
“ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ᴜꜱ ʏᴇᴛ, ᴋᴇʀɪꜱꜱᴀ ᴍᴏɴɪqᴜᴇ …”
“… ꜰᴏʀ ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ʏᴇᴛ ᴛᴏ ꜱᴇᴇ ᴀʟʟ ᴡʜɪᴄʜ ʜᴀꜱ ʙᴇᴇɴ ʜɪᴅᴅᴇɴ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ʏᴏᴜ.”
And in that moment, Kerissa could have sworn she felt a finger touch her forehead – ice cold carbonite, like the memory of a parent’s cruel hand, devoid of that precious warmth that made the hearts of the youth blossom. What meaning did the word “family” really have growing up in cult of Scimitar? Window dressing for eyes that occasionally wandered in search of something, anything more real than the flimsiplast walls all around them. And when the curious mind soared too high for the masters’ liking? They clipped its wings.
All those memories, those memories deemed subversive to the wishes of her “family”, came rushing back io her.
The knotted pages that made up Kerissa’s childhood loosened. Then split. It tore free and it took all she had to remain sat there, to not turn her face away from the truth.
Her truth.
Rue. Their play dates. Him introducing himself to her again and again and again and-
A storybook that said Sith were bad that came in the possessions of An Enemy they’d captured, it raised questions from the curious child. Her parents refused to answer.
Were they bad?
She could barely reach the buttons for doors but she had a bedsheet with what little was truly hers wrapped up, slamming a tiny fist and trying to run away. Over and over. Something was terribly wrong but she was spotted, caught planning and dragged back to their home.
The worst part was the memories that been altered, not removed. Faceless figures, The Enemy, became barely formed infant creatures. People. Often barely holding onto life as her siblings, or parents, screamed at her. Pulled her hair, pushed and pulled, it was terrifying. But for all they tried to make her scared of the babe barely clinging to life under experimental creation, she was scared of them. Their faces were clearer. Crueler.
It still worked. Lightning cracked free from pudgy fingers, and it hurt. It killed whatever was the target and sent spikes of pain through her.
She was hugged. She was loved. Her hands rarely stopped shaking. But they were held.
It went on for years. The same repetition. Every time shed run away it was back to step one for everything except her strength in the Force.
Rue named them all.
How could he look at her knowing she killed so many of his children?
Tears streamed down Kerissa’s face, the air becoming dense around her, static raising the hairs on her arms. Had she been on her knees already? They hurt.
The flow of memories reduced to a trickle. Her breaths came under duress, shaking with every exhale and her hair not quite shielding the rawness displayed on her face.
Monster. Tried to escape. Failed. Burning- burning all of them-
“ɴᴏᴡ, ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ꜱᴇᴇɴ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴜɴᴅᴇʀꜱᴛᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴇɪɢʜᴛ ᴏꜰ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴꜱ. ᴡɪʟʟ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴏɴᴛɪɴᴜᴇ ᴅᴏᴡɴ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴘᴀᴛʜ ʏᴏᴜ'ᴠᴇ ᴄʜᴏꜱᴇɴ? ᴅᴏᴡɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴀᴛʜ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ɴɪɢʜᴛꜱɪꜱᴛᴇʀ?”
Although Bril had no access to the memories she’d witnessed, nor did he desire to see them, he could feel the sorrow and guilt that buffeted Kerissa’s mind. No wonder she was crying by the end of it. Part of him wanted to reach out, offer his hand, but they didn’t know each other. Maybe a few words of comfort would help, though?
“How you choose to define yourself in light of this revelation is up to you. But this was a necessary step toward begin your life anew, on your own terms. That’s true freedom. ”
Her breath caught in her throat. The tears didn’t slow, hanging from her eyelashes like morning dew.
Yet, she nodded once. To regain her voice, Kerissa swallowed what felt like a block of iron in her throat. Her tail squeezed her thigh, gripping as if she were losing herself but the ground didn’t crumble.
The sky didn’t fall.
“I make this choice with all of me.” She spoke eventually, slowly as if each word were rusted gears moving for the first time, “Ive never gotten to do that before. And I do make it should you accept me.”
“ɴᴏᴛ ᴏɴʟʏ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴜᴍʙʟᴇᴅ ʏᴏᴜʀꜱᴇʟꜰ ʙᴇꜰᴏʀᴇ ᴜꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴇɪɢʜᴛ ᴏꜰ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴘᴀꜱᴛ, ʏᴏᴜ'ᴠᴇ ᴅᴏɴᴇ ꜱᴏ ᴏꜰ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ ᴀᴄᴄᴏʀᴅ.
ᴡᴇ ᴀᴄᴄᴇᴘᴛ ʏᴏᴜ, ᴋᴇʀɪꜱꜱᴀ ᴍᴏɴɪqᴜᴇ, ɪɴᴛᴏ ᴏᴜʀ ᴄᴏᴠᴇɴ.”
Then, there was a flash, and the air in the room once again grew heavy with the presence of the spirits in attendance. Bril reached out to take Kerissa’s hand again, pressing the talisman into her palm before taking her other hand and enclosing it around it. With their hands joined together, he started to chant again, his sclerae momentarily turning as black as pitch – stygian pools with a crystal blue pearl floating within each of them.
The black veins marring the woman’s lavender skin started to ache, and then burn as incantation took hold, gradually dissipating as the remnants of her Dark Side corruption were supplanted and burned away by a new, greater power. Once there was nothing left to purify, Bril withdrew his hands with a sharp inhale. “It’s done.”
Kerissa tasted blood as her veins burned from within. The corruption had taken deeper than vision would allow and kark it hurt. Her teeth clenched, refusing to cry out against something that was to save her life. Her knuckles paled, shoulders shaking before the tension eased at once and she let loose a breath of relief.
“Huh.” Kerissa breathed out, releasing the Talisman and Bril to look at her fingers. The skin was brighter, not enough that those who hadn’t seen the change actively occur would really notice but… “Is the Coven cool with naps?”
“I think they are, yeah,” he said with a chuckle, “They don’t seem to have a problem with my taking literal cat naps, so, I think you’ll be fine.”
Rising to his feet, he took Kerissa’s hand to help her up. After that, he produced his datapad from his belt and handed it to her. “Put your comlink code in my datapad. You’ll need someone mentoring you through this journey. One who you can trust not to, you know, steal your body or something.”
“Yknow. I probably should’ve read that book first.” Kerissa muttered at the revelation her body could be stolen, though without any real intent behind the words. She inputted her comlink, the one she used for work, before handing it back to Bril. “Com me and I’ll make sure to add you.”
Standing wasnt something her body seemed to much appreciate right now. Really, an actual plan of when and where probably would have been great. She hadn’t told the Academy she’d be staying and- hnng
Kerissa pressed a hand to her temple, wincing. New memories were floating trying to be processed and she could barely stand to look at them currently.
But, it was going to be okay. It would be.
In retrospect, it came as no surprise that Kerissa was having a hard time keeping herself up given what she’d just experienced. Bril watched with a concerned expression as she attempted to take a step, only to stumble, and then fall. Fortunately, he’d stayed close, allowing him to catch her before she hit the ground.
“I’ve got you, sister,” he said to her, the term of familial endearment slipping from his lips with such ease that one might have expected them to be old friends, siblings, had they heard it. It signified the significance of the new bond they’d formed, where he would take on the role as her guide as she began the walk down this seldom traversed path. “I have a bed in the next room. Invested in getting one when I practically lived here while I was working on my dissertation. You can use that to rest until you’re feeling better.”
He helped her into the next room and onto the bed before taking a step backward, thinking. “You know what? I’m not doing much today. I’ll hang out with you until you’re feeling better,” he offered with a lambent smile. It was the least he could do, right? She’d trusted him to get her this far, and this was a small way to repay her for her willingness to do something that he knew wasn’t easy.
“Everything’s going to be different, now. Better. You’ll see.”