But that was one thing she had remained closed about. Somehow Erik knew this was because she was probably not ready for such a task; though he definitely did not doubt her abilities, he wouldn't want for her to take a step she was thusfar not completely trained for.

In the days while she was away, he busied himself keeping the Relentless in tip-top shape, as well as modifying a few old fighters she had given him to work on. Where those came from, Erik wasn't sure, but they were something to occupy his time, which while he waited he needed very much.

But then, what WAS he waiting for?

Laying forward and resting his elbow on his pillow, he leaned his head against his hand in thought.

You know, some little shoulder devil mused. An angel from nowhere added, You love her. You're waiting to do what it is that people do when they fall in love.

Erik frowned a bit more deeply. Was that it? Was he waiting for a moment when he could show her that he would never leave her?

Or was it still something else that was yet to come that he'd been waiting so faithfully for?

And what, in fact, was yet to come? And when it happens, do you want to be a part of it from this angle?

You were trained as a Jedi, after all. But then again, so was she.

So much for the Jedi. They haven't even bothered to find out what happened to you since you were attacked and taken to the Temple.

In that, maybe Shayla has truly found something here she would not have elsewhere. At least here she seems to be cared about. At the Praxeum...they'd just let her go. And now, they've done the same with you.

Pushing those thoughts away, Erik smiled and lightly kissed her forehead, laying his head against his pillow and closing his eyes.

Oh, how they didn't know just what a dedicated fighter and friend they had lost...

"This too I have felt, my Brother," I commented at length, letting my hand fall from his arm. "And I find it as strange as do you that this one has the ability to mask himself from us as has been done. It can only mean one thing."

I paused, letting my eyes carry the full import of my words into his being, reading in his brilliant turquoise pair his affirmation to my yet unvoiced questions and comments.

She smiled to herself, thinking yet once again of all that had transpired in so rapid-fire a manner. Smiled with the inner knowledge that her destiny would be fulfilled, that if ever there were a prophecy screaming for completion, this was it and she and those with her were to be the implements of its fruition. One slim hand fell lazily upon her stomach, the fingers tracing idle circles upon the cool flesh there. Then, giving a small yawn, she rose and dressed herself in a flowing gray gown, one embroidered with her signature sith runes, and one which quite effectively hid her expanding midsection from sight.

Quickly she travelled through the dim and mossy corridors, her stomach growling at the prospect of breakfast, her heart in her throat at the prospect of coming upon her Lord within these stone walls, and her mind full of thoughts of her Adept.

Her dear, dear sister and Adept.

For a moment she frowned slightly, realizing that to the young woman it might appear as though her Teacher had abandoned her. Then she shook her head, the frown disappearing beneath her growing smile.
She, as did her own Sire, had chosen wisely. Of that she was certain. There wasn't a doubt in her mind that Shayla would see through this apparent aloofness right to the real reason for it: the unexpected and oh so wondrous return of Lady Graysith's love and Lord, not only to Khar Delba, but into her life and future as well.

A slim and pale hand, repaired digit indiscernable from its mates, reached out to lightly brush the mossy place indicating the hidden doorway to her Adept's room. A quick and light brush of her inner essence told her of Erik's presence therein, and her smile broadened. Indeed, my Adept has not been too... bored, in my brief absence from her! she grinned to herself, drawing the tendril back and away.

Then, deciding that today was the day to pick up on her Adept's training, she entered the Dining Hall seeking to break her fast. She nearly ran head-first into her Dark Heart, who was departing from the back of the room where the gibbering Jinn was spouting something in an unfamiliar tongue. An edge of a robe, scarlet, gold and black, peeped about from the edge of the retaining wall; she knew her Sire was in there with Jinn, and wondered if she ought to approach him about the continued training of Shayla.

Then all questions were brushed aside as she lifted her face, her eyes pouring themselves into the gaze of her Lord.

"Ooooouch!" Erik moaned.

With that, Shayla's eyes flew open. She knew he'd been there the night before; this wasn't the surprise. Usually though, he distanced himself from her by sleeping on the floor, knowing how she felt about moving too quickly.

Figuring she'd take this for all it was worth, Shayla plastered an angry look on her face and sat up. "You...you...you!" she hissed in mock irritation.

Erik just shot back a lopsided grin at her, his brown eyes full of amusement. "You are a lousy fake," he teased.

She punched him good and hard in the shoulder before grabbing her robe, wrapping it about herself and heading for the 'fresher.

"You'd really better practice that punch a bit more if you expect it to hurt," she heard him taunt as she left the room.

A few minutes later, she reemerged into the room with a simple black jumpsuit on. He had cleaned up a bit himself; he was wearing a black jumpsuit of his own as he usually did. "Ready for breakfast?" he asked, cocking his brow at her in question.

"Almost," she replied, wandering over to her dresser to retrieve her weapons belt. Affixed to it were a standard blaster and a lightsaber. She hooked the belt on and fingered the lightsaber hilt admiringly, then unhooked it from her belt, scrutinizing it further.

"Something wrong?" he asked, coming up behind her and wrapping his arms around her waist.

Shayla shook her head. "No," she whispered, her greeny-blue eyes staring at the weapon intently. "Just seems strange that the Jedi use a weapon so designed for destroying the life that they claim to be defenders of."

He pursed his lips. "I've never thought of it that way," he admitted.

Looking at the lightsaber for a moment more, she returned it to her belt then smiled, pulling herself from her thoughts. "Com'n, let's go get some breakfast."

Her lower lip trembled a bit and she reached a hand up to touch Roan's own. Her eyes suddenly filled with moisture as she saw the determination in his, read there the lethal potential this ceremony had entertained for countless bloody centuries. Knew in her heart of hearts that few had successfully mastered it, let alone lived through whatever horrors it presented, that most had died in a manner it would be an understatement to describe as "pleasantly."

If she should lose him now that she had finally found him....

Then she drew in a great breath, and straightened. Fearful as she was for his safety, she somehow also realized the full expanse of the honor he was bestowing upon her by attempting this act. For a long moment she stared into his eyes; then her lashes dimmed their brilliant violet.

"As you wish, my Lord," she murmured softly. "Ever at your desire."

With that she turned to inform her adept and the young man loved by her of the unique honor soon to be be shown to them all. As she left to do this, and to make preparations, she likewise knew he was seeking out his own brother, her Sire the Sorcerer Aelvedaar.

Lady Graysith didn't quite know where the words had originated. Nor did she bother wanting to know. All she knew was that far, far too much of it was pooling upon the stone floor of the Great Throne Room, the wellspring from whence it came being a far, far too precious source to her. Her jaws worked as she gritted her teeth, her slim hands fisting at her side with the effort not to rush forward and stop this hideous ceremony.

That her Lord would subject himself to such atrocities... UNTHINKABLE!!

But withhold herself she did, if only by dint of every bit of willpower she possessed. Every fiber of her being screamed for him at the pain he stoically endured, as the obvious shadows of ancient and less noble Sith rushed headlong into his muscular frame, laughing and gibbering and clawing to make it their own, squabbling and raking him in the attempt of bringing him unto them. Every muscle tensed as though if by doing so she could lend him that extra touch of physical strength, to better withstand the cruel pressure applied by his own body in its battle against gravity and the two enormous rancor teeth. Her own nails sliced into her palms, drawing her own blood, every ounce of strength she possessed keeping her eyes glued upon him when she saw Maladius scramble up his body and begin ripping and slicing into it with wild abandon.

There was nothing she would have loved more than to avert her gaze, to turn away from the horror in front of her. But even as a part of her tried to do just that, another stronger part would not give her that release. Trembling with the effort, her eyes instead remained glued to his, adhering there, offering a silent communion, an incorporeal lifeline between the two of them, along which she willed all her own strength and willpower and power of endurance to travel along. When the torture reached its exquisite apex she saw Shayla turn her head and bury it against Erik's chest; she merely drew in a shaky breath and straightened further, her fisted and white-knuckled hands dripping blood freely onto the stones of the floor.

And when the Dark Lord had gasped and ceased to breathe... she thought she would die with him, right there on the spot. At least in joined death there would be eternal unity.

But he had lived. He had gasped a great inhalation, his eyes had flown open, he had mercifully been lowered to the floor. And then there had been no stopping her, and she had flown to be with him, to stand before him, reaching up and out to him as he had been lowered, ignoring Aelvedaar and shouldering past him to take Roan's bloodied hands into her own bloodied palms, their life's juices mingling to make them ever more one unto each other as she gazed in awe and relief and an overwhelming burst of love into his wonderful turquoise eyes... holding him, listening then with a brow cocked in growing wonder and concern as he uttered his final cryptic vision and collapsed in her arms.

She held him as though she would never let him go, her own eyes growing huge as the realization of what had just happened finally sunk into her.

He had seen something....

Now she was crying openly, stroking his cheek, his torn chest, laying her hands upon his wounds and using the wondrous All as her Sire had taught her to do to begin healing him. Nothing would do but that he awoke whole within her arms, to let her know that which he had seen, to let her let him know how much she loved him, and the hell she had born thinking he had once more died.

But until then--

"Leave us," she commanded softly as she continued her medicinal ministrations, interspersing the soft touch of her hands with even softer kisses. "Leave us now."

She didn't even have to remove her attention from her Lord to know her order was being instantly obeyed.

She drew up before the creature, who whined and bowed his head before her, his bloody eyes all the while cutting to seek amnesty in those of Lord Roan. There was no reprieve there; the Dark Warrior merely crossed his muscular arms and tilted his head toward his Lady. Maladius' fate was clearly delegated into the capable hands of Graysith; the creature whimpered and clutched his tail, fully aware of how the Chosen Daughter had not understood, and indeed might not even yet.

Trembling with the effort to hold back her anger, Graysith slowly reached a hand out to the abject little demon, then paused. Words strangely familiar to her came whispering into her ears as if from a great distance:

All for the All... tunnelled vision cannot see the entirety of the picture....

Slowly, her slim hand descended to lay quietly on the creature's head. "You have done well, little one; more than was ever expected of you to do. Go now."

Scarcely had she uttered the words when she once more felt Roan's strong arms about her, felt the warmth of his breath as he laughed against her hair. Then they continued on their way, to discuss together the import of what had been revealed to the Dark One this night.

Something was up. And she just knew something big was about to happen.

Suddenly she felt a bit out of place as she considered the choices that had been laid before her.

She'd been given the option to come back to Khar Delba or go to Sullust to watch the others. She'd chosen to come back, to complete her training.

But what if she should have been doing the latter and not the former? Truthfully, she hadn't had training since she had returned...

So what was she doing here?

She shifted in her blankets, pondering further. Did she have it in her to complete this task? Would this, in fact, have been the better choice? Was her heart guiding her, or her head?

As if on cue to that thought, another memory surfaced...one placed in her by Graysith of that horrible day when her child had been killed. Then, memory shifted to another day, when Terrin Danner had cruelly injured her Sister...

...so what if they were planning to do something else? Who would be keeping an eye on those two? And what would the ramifications of leaving the Child that would soon be born in their incapable hands be?

With a blinding insistence, Shayla's being was suddenly filled with a new purpose.

She should be watching them.

Shayla sat up and headed to her wardrobe to dress and pack. Then another issue of this departure suddenly presented itself.

What was she going to do with Erik? He couldn't go with her...he'd be in the way, he wouldn't understand. And she'd given her word she wouldn't ask him to do anything he might be uncomfortable with...

...She'd have to leave him. She'd have to leave him and not let him know where she was going. There'd be too much of a risk of big eyes and ears finding out what she was up to.

Still...she'd need protection. And a ship...

Mulling this a moment, she sent out a thought to her Sister. I have decided to take leave, my Sister, to serve you and Your Own. I shall go to Sullust to watch these who have given you trouble. I take Leev with me, for my protection. With you I leave my Love...he will not understand. I am sorry for the inconvience this may cause, but he will be a good help to you by continuing to take care of the ships which he has been restoring. In time we may need them.

Deciding upon the Lioness as her ship of choice, Shayla turned a moment to regard Erik as he slept, then entered the hallways of the Temple to depart all together.

If this choice should please you, I shall go now. If not, I shall return immediately. But in this I feel I can serve you best, my Teacher, my Friend, my Sister...

The Dark Lord was quirking one eyebrow at her. "My adept seeks yet to prove her worth to us, my love," she grinned back. "At last she is beginning to discover herself, as where as the direction in which her loyalties truly do lie." The grin broadened further. "And you thought I chose unwisely, even thought I had no right to do as I did with this one!"

As her Dark Heart descended upon her to wipe that grin off her face in his own powerfully unique fashion, the Chosen Daughter had just the time to send a returning thought along the Link to her Adept.

What took you so long, dear sister? she quipped; then she sobered.

Go to Sullust, and take care. Events proceed there which are of the greatest importance to us, as well as in regards to the destiny I have yet to fulfill. Go in strength, my adept; I cloak thee to keep thee safe from prying eyes.

A final niggle of the All, and Shayla's ship was enveloped in a blanketing shield, one which would prevent any force user, partial or of the all, from discovering her. Then the Chosen Daughter turned once more to her Dark Heart, holding out her hands to him.

"And what of the one she leaves behind, my love?" she asked, grasping his strong hands in her own surprisingly strong grip. "Perhaps he can be of some use to us as well. What think you?"

Cocking a brow, Shayla turned to the droid with a half-smile. "I'm sure he'll get over the fact I'm taking his ship. He's flown the Starlight enough to owe me this one."

Another string of tootles followed.

Shayla turned back to the navboard as she answered. "We're going to Sullust on...business. And once we get in hyperspace, I want you to unstrap yourself and do a data search. I want specifics on anything bearing the name Terrin Danner and Eagle Enterprises that you can get your sensors on. I have no doubt that wherever he is, the rest of the motley crew is as well. But I've gotta find them first, without tipping them off to my knowing a thing of their whereabouts."

With that, Shayla began the take off cycle. As the ship began to leave the ground and she turned her attentions more fully to the task of getting the Lioness out of Khar Delban atmosphere and into space safely, Izzy bleeped one final string of "thoughts" regarding Mr. Danner.

Shayla turned to regard the R2-unit again, this time a not-so-pleasant grin playing across her face. "That we might, my little droid. That we might..."

My Dark Brother appeared occupied with his Lady; out of deference to them both, I averted my gaze and made a small noise to announce myself.

"Brother, a concern of dire importance has come to my attention," I began, now moving away to come to a stop before the viewing crystal at the foot of their bed. Another wave of my hand, and a seething planetscape revealed itself in its mysterious depths. After an appropriate length of time had elapsed, spotted with the occasional rustles of bedclothing being tossed aside and garments being donned, I turned to face them. They stood silent as wraiths, the Lady looking puzzled and more than a little bit worried. There wasn't a speck of emotion upon the hard planes of Roan's face, however.

I pressed on.

"I know you have felt this, Brother." Now our eyes locked together, a wealth of words and questions crashing between us. "Think you that we ought to act directly upon this, or wait and see what develops? I do not feel we are in any great physical danger yet, but..."I trailed off, waiting to hear how my Dark Brother would reply.

And there was only one device of which she was aware that would fine-tune the ravening splendors of the All in such a manner....

Trembling a bit, she couldn't help but glance down at her right hand. Although she had easily adapted to the prosthetic finger, she still felt terribly empty without the Claw she had once affixed there. A shadow of despair began to taunt her, reminding her of the haunting fact that if she had been strong enough to keep the Claw from being removed, they would not now be facing what might very easily turn into a disaster of momentous proportions. And now, having gained her attention with that, her inner Beast began to yowl and slaver, adding his bit of mounting rage to her rising emotions.

Then her violet eyes widened, and the Glyph upon her forehead raged forth. Turning to her Dark Lord, she clutched his arm with her hand as her gaze roved from his face to the planet showed in the crystal and back again.

"My Adept," she whispered, her grip on his arm tightening instinctively. "Oh my Dark Heart, Shayla has gone to Sullust, and I have sent her there!"

He now placed both arms around Graysith holding her to him finding true comfort that only she could bring to him. "All is well. I have already sent Maladius to watch, to keep us aware, and to aid Shayla should she need assistance." Placing a clawed finger under her chin he raised her lips to meet his in a passionate kiss. He stayed there only breaking it long enough to pat his brothers arm in a show of assurance before returning to her magics.

“My Adept falters, but in deference to us,” she murmured. “I shall pass on to her these certainties of which you have spoken, my love.”

With that, she let her gaze unfocus and the Glyph come to life on her forehead. It filled the air with its intense glow as, leaping out in a dazzling beam it followed the Link back to Shayla, bringing into her Adept’s mind all that had been spoken within the room in recent moments. When she was assured that Shayla had received the message, the Chosen Daughter followed it with another, one more private, and one entirely of her own.

”Take care, my sister,” the warning whispered through the Link. ”There is one near you who has the ability to bring harm to you, although not to us or our destiny in general. But it is for your safety that I now have some concern; on one hand this is meant to be a test of your abilities, my sister. But on the other, I do not wish anything to happen to you.

“Do you need me there?”

Turning from the link, Shayla's hand again returned to the navboard, preparing to land the Lioness on the surface of Sullust and to follow her prey...

She was gone. She had gone, and she hadn't said goodbye. And he just knew that she had done exactly that because she was doing something she didn't think he would understand.

But how could he understand? He'd been with her for months now, and not once had anyone given him enough of the big picture for him to come to any sort of decision.

He was no fool. He knew he wasn't trusted.

Not even by the one that he loved.

Sighing, he resigned himself to her absence, wondering if he was all alone or if the others were there. She was blanketed from him, as she had been seemingly eons ago when she had first disappeared.

When she had first stepped into the universe in which she now existed.

Fee-ee-elinnngggsssss...

She sighed, and closed her eyes, letting the breeze carry the perfume of the night flowers into her nostrils, her thoughts drifting back through time as easily as that heady bouquet came to her now. So much had happened since that first day, and so much was yet to come....

With her eyes still closed, she placed a hand on her stomach. A soft and secretive sort of smile came to her lips, and for a moment she merely stood there, silent. Then a dark shadow leapt over the rail; as he had done that night so long ago, Nikk came to a silent halt before her. His eyes seemed to glow as he pinned them upon her; she smiled, feeling that look, sensing his concern, knowing it was unwarranted.

At her side, M'wonBo'o raised a betendriled head, and growled as the Noghri burst in upon them. Then he laid his head between his massive paws and quieted somewhat, although he could not refrain from muttering an occasional warning rumble. Although by now the great tuk'ata accepted the Noghri as almost a peer, at times he almost seemed to be jealous of Nikk's growing closeness with his Mistress. Without budging an inch, one of his face tendrils snaked out to wrap about Graysith's ankle, seeking reassurance there.

Graysith smiled, and was about to speak gentle words to allay his fears... when a disturbing thought came to her mind through the Link she maintained with Shayla. Her eyes flew open as its import struck her; for long moments she stood in silence and stared unseeing as the evening light dimmed about her, a frown beginning to tickle the corners of her mouth. She sighed, and that small sound was enough to cause her Blood-Hunt Companion to immediately raise his head, and for Nikk to sidle closer to her.

With another smaller sigh, she waved them back. "Be at ease, my friends," she directed them gently. "I am unharmed, although concerns are beginning to plague me. I fear my Dark Heart must be made aware of events occurring at this moment on Sullust, if indeed he needs me to inform him of such at all."

Turning to leave, she paused. The Glyph ravened into life, and she sent a returning directive to Shayla. Take care, my sister, she warned her. The one who has harvested our treasure is stronger than you perceive him to be. I do not wish anything to happen to you; beware this one, and stay away from him at all costs. I shall inform my Lord of the events which have transpired with you, and we shall see what his input shall be.

Closing the link, she cast a final look into the deepening shadows without. For some reason they were suddenly beginning to perturb her greatly. Shaking off a little shiver, she proceeded to seek Dark Lord Roan, to deliver the message she had just received from Shayla. At her side, and equally silent and apparently perturbed M'wonBo'o and Nikk fell into place, and followed her back into the stone corridors of the Temple.

Elsewhere, however, there was another. No matter what assurances Lord Roan spoke of, she still held her doubts. A user of the All, one who had NOT come to meet them openly at the temple, was by just those circumstances alone one to be seen as a threat to them, and very possibly a dangerous one at that. She knew her love was the Dark Lord of the Warrior clan of the Sith, and that he was very strong and powerful in his own right, and that Aelvedaar held within his grasp the pinnacle of Sith Sorcery. But there was something about this unknown one which bothered her, and put her on alert. She would not rest easy until he either was joined with them...

Or dead.

Before her now, the Khar Delban jungle lightened, and at length opened to reveal a wondrous landscape spread out as though for her personal perusal. As they had loped along, the ground had bit by bit sloped upward, increasing in elevation by several hundred feet from that upon which the Temple had been built. Before her now kilometer after kilometer of canopy spread its luscious greenery, limned far in the distance by a thin border of white that glittered glacially in the bright sunlight. She sat unmoving upon the quiet M'wonBo'o, who only seemed to regard the view in front of them in a pensive frame of mind.

Graysith reached forward to pat him lovingly... and paused, her hand hanging over his neck in mid-stroke. The Link she constantly maintained with her Adept sprang into life, and she cocked her head to one side, a frown now darkening her features as she considered what was being spoken so very far away. Her hand trembled just a bit before she finally laid it quietly upon her tuk'ata's neck.

Knowing full well that Dark Lord Roan was equally aware of events which were proceeding on Sullust, she remained where she was, seated upon the broad back of M'wonBo'o, staring unseeing now over the panorama before them. Her hand gripped his neck, clenching unconsciously there; his low whine of consternation brought her to her senses. She allowed her expression to soften, and patted him once more, aware of the instant presence of Nikk who likewise had sensed her discomfiture.

"As with all things, we continue to wait, my friends," she whispered softly. Then she closed her eyes and proceeded to do precisely that, the cool breeze coming from the jungle behind her lifting her hair in a flaming nimbus about her slight frame.

Yep. The Chief would like this one. Faster efficiency, better fuel consumption rates....

The Chief? How long had it been since he'd thought of her as that?

Not since before...

...before she disappeared...

Sighing, he took a seat at the navboard of the ship, idling eyeing the controls while his mind spun elsewhere.

Absence indeed makes the heart grow fonder. Only now, when she was away, could he truly see how much of the old Shayla truly still existed. As well as how much of the old Shayla that was no longer.

She was always one to stay to herself, to do things her way and on her terms before ever trusting another soul...that is, aside from those she was closest to. In this, she was the still same. However, old Shayla, though she drew inward for the tasks she faced, never really even trusted herself. Never thought she could do the job fully, always saw something that needed to be fixed. Though some of this Shayla was indeed still there, a large amount of her had been wiped away.

Had she received this newfound confidence as a result of what she had learned here? Was it something she had gained on her journey from the Praxeum to something that, at least to her, was far greater?

Once again returning to his work aboard the ship, Erik pondered these things in his heart, hoping that someday he would be given the chance to understand.

Without speaking another word he threw the strangling Shayla at the feet of the tukata, who his love was still sitting upon in stunned silence.

The responses of her two bodyguards went utterly unnoticed. All Graysith had eyes for was the trembling form of Shayla, who had the good sense to remain equally quiet on the ground before her. For a long moment the Chosen Daughter regarded the blood upon the young woman's throat where Roan's claws had grasped her; then she lifted her luminous eyes directly into the Dark Lord's enflamed pair.

An eternity passed in which she looked at Roan as if he were something completely alien to her.

But he is, Jharmeen.... From somewhere very, very far away, a dim little voice spoke up to be heard. He is, you know. Whatever in the galaxy are you doing, Jharmeen?

Then, from another place but one closer to her reality, the Beast within rose up. Uttering a decisive snarl, it reached out a massive internal paw, and slammed it down upon the little voice. It disappeared beneath that bulk as though being closed off by the shutting of a door, and did not reawaken. Graysith shook her head, focusing once more as that voice dimmed. It was gone before she really had the opportunity to recognize, let alone acquiesce, to it.

Tears threatened to flood her eyes; with great effort she held them at bay and slid smoothly from M'wonBo'o's broad back. Keenly aware of every nuance surrounding her: the crunch of rocky soil beneath her feet, the quickening breeze coming from the jungle's depths, the hot panting of the tuk'ata and Nikk's eager intake of breath, and the yet unmoving form of Shayla; aware of this all but most of all aware of the heated emotion roiling in the breast of Lord Roan, she moved quietly up to him. Her slim hand trembled once; then she firmed it, and laid it and it's companion on his muscled and yet naked chest. The words she spoke seemed but mere playthings compared to the look she now poured into his eyes.

"My Lord," she began humbly. "The anger within you is great, and no one more than I knows it is justified. I too knew of what events were transpiring, yet I did not come to you. Instead, I remained here waiting to see what fruits they would bring... and this is one too bitter for your Dark Heart to partake of."

Now she let the barest hint of tears come into her violet eyes as slowly, with all the deference to him that she could muster, she lowered herself to her knees in front of him. He hands lay upon his chest; it was all she could do to refrain from clenching them into fists.

"The anger in you is great, I can feel it," she continued, repeating herself. "But I know there is a balancing love in you as well. It is to that balancing part of you that I now direct this plea:

"Show the compassion I know is within you, My Lord. Do not force your Dark Heart to make this choice you have placed before her."

...deeply within her, another little part was slowly coming awake yet again.

Unable to make itself consciously known at first, the little voice began to niggle and squirm. It sent vague feelings flowing from some deep wellspring; it prodded and provoked from within the overwhelming tide of dull despair which otherwise filled her being. And finally, it succeeded, and a single thought, almost non sequiteur to the moment, popped into her head.

He did not allow Shayla opportunity to explain herself.

A single tremor raced through Graysith, and one hand clenched against her Dark Heart's side. If he noticed it, he gave no indication, but stood there glaring and indomitable.

Silent, knowing in her heart of hearts that no matter what words Lord Roan would speak she would still have to make a decision, she waited. And even so, she already knew what that decision would be....

She wasn't dead yet.

Why did he wait? What was going on? Was that conversation she had heard...? Who...?

Then, the answers came as a jolt of pain resulting from the burns of the Sith fire wracked her body.

"She is yours to dispense of, my Dark Heart. Destroy her as you see fit."

Unconsciously, Shayla closed her eyes. While she was still reeling from the lack of oxygen, she was even more so reeling from the reality of what Lord Roan was asking.

As well as WHO he was asking to complete the task.

With an amazing amount of certainty for one in such pain and in such peril, one thing was crystal clear to Shayla.

She must leave her fate in the hands of her Sister and her Dark Heart. Perhaps yet someone would understand what her true intentions had been. If only she had made her plan clearer...

...Betrayal? She had only wanted to keep her plan under wraps so the Jedi Master would not know them. She should have known that her actions were far too risky; she should have known that she wasn't ready for the task at hand.

She wasn't ready. She was a failure. Again. One more time, she had dropped the ball.

But she had wanted to succeed. She had tried her very best...

...If only...

Quite suddenly she was filled with anger; it didn't matter that on that day he had finally spoken, declaring his love, turning her universe from the depths of despair to the heights of soaring ecstasy. It didn't matter that in all probability he would do so again, backing down in deference of the great love he held for her. It didn't matter that she recognized that love, and returned it with one of her own that just might even be greater.

What mattered was the simple fact that he was doing this to her again... only this time it wasn't at her own expense. The life of another hung in the balance... the life of one she quite suddenly realized she truly had grown to love as a sister, and would therefore die for herself.

And she wasn't about to play his game any longer.

With the greatest effort she had yet to expend, she managed to keep the Glyph on her forehead masked in silence. Since her eyes were still humbly aimed to the ground, he could not see the flare of pure rage which came into them. Slowly, trembling with barely restrained emotion, she uncoiled the one clenched fist; even more slowly, she brought herself under iron control and when she was certain not one speck of her anger was showing, raised her head to meet his gaze and rose to her feet.

For along moment she let herself drown in his still-enflamed turquoise eyes, silently begging them to calm. They only seemed to glare even more; drawing herself regally upright she nodded her head.

"So be it, my Lord."

Bowing once more in deference, she then turned and waved off M'wonBo'o and Nikk. Both guardians snorted their disappointment, but were too loyal to her to argue. Their own eyes now glaring, they backed off a few paces where they came to a trembling halt, waiting.

Graysith ignored the nuance dripping off the tuk'ata and the Noghri. She only had eyes for her Lord. "But," she continued smoothly. "This is something that I do myself. I do not wash my hands in such a manner as to let my minions do the unsightly deed in my stead."

Now she turned away from him and approached Shayla, who had drawn herself into a sitting position. A look of terror began to cross her face, and her Teacher didn't let it remain there long. One step... two... another, and yet another, and she was soon standing directly in front of her young Adept, her face completely expressionless, looking down upon her, keenly aware of the waves of heated silence which beat onto her back from behind her. M'wonBo'o whined eagerly, and Nikk tightened his grip on his spear as slowly, inexorably, the Chosen Daughter raised her right hand....

One moment she was there, standing over her frightened young Adept. The next, gone. And then... she was back in the absolutely identical position she had just vacated.

To an unschooled eye it would have seemed as though the Chosen Daughter had merely caused her Adept to disappear from her current reality, snatched from the cold ground of Khar Delba and sent off into the Elseness once again. Graysith knew her Lord was filled with a rage so great as to mar his otherwise impeccable vision; she knew with a 99.9999 percent probability that he thought that was perhaps what she had in fact done.

Though Dark Warrior Lord of the Sith he might be, his Brother Aelvedaar was the Dark Sorcerer Lord. More than master of spacetime manipulation, he had taught his Chosen One well....

Lord Roan cocked his head a bit to one side as she moved back up to stand before him. Refusing to so much as bow her head, she pinned his eyes with an almost insouciant stare. One nostril flared, and her lip curled as she finally spoke. Her voice was soft and low, but there could be no mistake:

Something, perhaps infinitesimal in size, but something nevertheless... something which had been found had just been lost between them.

"I have disposed of her at your request, my Lord," she all but sneered. Then she turned on her heel and strode swiftly to where M'wonBo'o still stood in a fog of confusion. Despite the gentle swell of her belly, she leapt aboard his broad back.

Before the Dark Warrior Lord could even call out her name, she kicked the tuk'ata into vicious movement... and they disappeared into the leafy green depths of the darkening jungle.

All went unnoticed, so deep was the grief that now flooded her. It arrowed into her very being, piercing something, wending its way through memories she now found herself questioning, coming at last to that deeply guarded inner door. With the strength of righteous anger and justifiable hatred, it pounded heatedly upon it, in utter disregard of the Beast who yowled and yammered within... and who, with a final mutter and growl, backed off at last just enough to let that door peep open before her inner eye.

She gasped to see what secrets it held within, and leapt to her feet. Her slim fists clenched at her sides, trembling with barely controlled emotion. M'wonBo'o too was immediately on his feet; his face tendril almost cut the circulation off to her lower leg, it tightened so much about her. "Mistress..." the question came into her mind, wafted along on a dark cloud of worry.

She ignored him, consciously able at last to reach deep within and yank that little door until it yawned completely open. Abruptly, as images long repressed finally came into her conscious thought, she staggered; pain deepened the grief she felt, and the Glyph burst into a finale of radiant glory. Then it settled back to near obsolescence, as she slowly sank to her knees. Great racking sobs tore at her, wetting the hair that hung down before her; her blood fairly boiled from the heat of emotions finally discovered and finally let go. And when her sobs finally lessened to a degree where she could turn her attentions to them, to scrutinize and analyze them in their entirety, she found not much to her surprise that the one of them most overwhelming was shame.

She knew before she heard the sound of approaching booted feet. Sniffing, she turned her eyes to the little pool, which despite the waning light managed to clearly reflect the tall and imposing image of Aelvedaar coming up behind her. Still on her hands and knees, she remained silent, waiting for the words she knew were coming.

She didn't have to wait long.

"Your life will be forfeit for what you have done."

Then I fall into silence, and once again wait. It is all I can do to keep my claws from ripping into her flesh as she cowers on her knees in front of me.

The Glyph flared into life once again, its fantastic energies now drawing her to her feet practically unbeknownst to her. Her hands clenched once again into fists as, enwrapped within a blanket of the greatest anger she had ever felt in her entire life, she whirled on the one she had not long ago lovingly called her Sire. Her violet eyes sent daggers shooting into his molten pair, and her lip curled in affronted disgust.

"Who am I?" she began in a heated whisper that rapidly escalated in strength, growing louder and louder with each word she uttered. "Who am I...?!

"Who are YOU to do this to me, to send this burden to me, to choose me of all the sentients in that which we call Reality?

"Who are YOU to so casually crush my former existence from me, to emplace this so-called 'destiny' within me, to hide all knowledge of the fact...?!

"WHO ARE YOU TO HAVE MADE ME KILL MY OWN FATHER?!?"

Trembling, she had the effrontery to take a step toward him. It did not matter that he was the Dark Lord of the Sorcerer's Clan of the ancient and powerful Sith. It did not matter that she, strangely enough, yet felt a sort of love for him, and that a part of her still called him Sire. All that mattered was the one horrific image that played itself out in her mind, over and over, taunting and laughing for the indomitable knowledge which it carried that told her there was absolutely nothing... NOTHING... she could ever have done to prevent this from happening.

Coming to a halt in front of him, she began ripping and clawing at him, reaching up to strike him with all the strength she possessed. It was but short work for the Sith Lord to grasp her by both wrists; he did so with offhanded ease, and held them in a grip of steel.

Now racking sobs tore through Graysith once more, and she used the only weapon she had at her disposal. Words. Mere words. Sobbing and hiccupping, she went on, each word limned in the fires of pain held in for far too long. But words now escaping her tear-stained lips in the merest of whispers.

"Who are you to turn me into this 'Graysith' who I now have become? I am not her... I am Jharmeen Jhin'Darr... Jharmeen...."

With that her head fell forward, and she at last lost herself to a dull silence that was broken only by her occasional hiccup. At that moment, the touch of Death would have been a welcomed one.

"...as I can not truly find it within myself to bring about the death of the One upon which so much depends."

And most importantly, into acceptance.

Her lids closed over her eyes, and she trembled slightly; then, as if to hold at bay any other feeling or thought, her one hand raised up to lay lightly atop Aelvedaar's. Slowly, she leaned her head into that clawed hand, holding it with her own tightly against her cheek.

She knew why she had been Chosen; indeed it was as the Sith Lord had revealed to her. But further yet, another stunning realization rocked her to her very core:

Love... hate... good or evil. It mattered not. What mattered was another unexpected treasure inherent to the human race, and once perhaps long lost to this once mighty civilization. And perhaps it was in that losing that they finally fell before the Dark Jedi who eradicated them from the Galaxy with no more thought than one would give to crushing an annoying gnat.

Trust. The Sith needed to learn to trust. They could talk all they wanted about balancing themselves, about accepting themselves... but until they learned to trust themselves and each other, all they could do would be to start descending once more into the morass they had slid into over forty centuries ago.

Only this time the degeneration would be with the power of the All at their command.

Graysith shuddered and opened her eyes. Aelvedaar's molten ones were right before hers, intimately close. Her grip on his hand tightened.... and at length she spoke.

"I understand now," was all she said. She let a pregnant moment hang there a bit before continuing. "You must understand as well. My Sire... for Sire to me you are, my Lord; my Sire, what I have done was for the good of the All, as well as for the Sith. You must trust me, my Lord, as I have trusted you for so long. And by trusting me, trust my Adept as I do. The All is too great a beacon to shine in this Galaxy; others will be coming to snatch it if they might. How can you expect them to not learn of it when the Sith return to life? You must trust that more guardians than you and my love are needed to prevent that from happening."

Now she took a step back, and smiled up into his face. "And this is why you reached out to my race, because we can trust, even in the face of the darkest adversity. And you chose me because I can bring not merely the purity of love to the dark, as I have, but that trust as well. Which I have shown to you by placing my life in your hands for the sake of my Adept."

A slight rustle caught her attention; off to the side of the clearing stood a mute Dark Warrior Lord. The pain upon his face was almost too much for The Chosen Daughter to bear. With a final, slight pressure of her palm against the charnelhouse flesh of her Sire, she pulled back completely and gracefully came before her Lord. Now her hand placed itself lightly against the heated flesh of his face.

"My Love," she whispered. "You, too, must learn to trust. I, Graysith, have found great love in my heart for you, love that will never cease.

Terror which she had for she who she called Sister.

Then, in one utterly terrifying and horrible moment, Shayla Stargazer Petrolu blinked all together from the face of the planet. From the galaxy. Indeed, from the universe.

No, no, NO, NO!!! It cannot be!!! It musn't!!! Those whom she had trusted for so long...

Erik forced down the lump in his throat as the hurt and anger wracked his body. He knew his logic for the moment had been cast to the wind, and he didn't care.

He would not allow her life to go blindly forfeited. She might be gone...

...gone...?

...but her death would be avenged.

Another wave of anxiety wracked him.

She was gone...