"The time grows closer, my Chosen One. Put your mind at ease. As long as Shayla remains as an observer at all costs, she will remain safe." He finished all he could say, for now all was well. He slowly moved his palm, carressing her stomach and began to whisper an ancient Sith lullaby.

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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.

[ 02-10-2002 01:52 PM: Message edited 1 time, lastly by Graysith ]

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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.

And how very truly did he WANT to understand...

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Now I reach out to adjust a control, a portion of my own mind addressing the device and its workings as it quietly hums in front of me. Fixing my gaze upon it, I quietly await my Dark Brother's reply.

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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.

[ 02-14-2002 04:05 PM: Message edited 1 time, lastly by Dark Lord Roan ]

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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."

Remaining on her knees, Graysith then lowered her lids, and lowered her face before Lord Roan. She did not have to speak any further to elucidate what choice it was of which she spoke, for she knew with utter certainty he was well aware of exactly what she meant.

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She would die...

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...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....

[ 02-15-2002 11:46 PM: Message edited 1 time, lastly by Graysith ]

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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...

Quietly yet tensely, Shayla awaited her fate, keenly aware of the lull in action, as well as of the raging emotions battling in the silence...

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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....

...and in one slight but omnipotent motion, created a chronotic field about both herself and her Adept. In less than a nanosecond, both she and the young woman were gone.

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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.

[ 02-16-2002 06:22 PM: Message edited 1 time, lastly by Graysith ]

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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, to her utter surprise, the Dark Sorcerer Lord didn't fade back to his magickal devices, but grew silent and remained where he was, obviously waiting to hear her reply.

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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.

[ 02-17-2002 01:59 PM: Message edited 1 time, lastly by Aelvedaar ]

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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.

[ 02-17-2002 02:39 PM: Message edited 1 time, lastly by Graysith ]

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

[ 02-17-2002 03:40 PM: Message edited 1 time, lastly by Aelvedaar ]

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All the blood ran from him as he stood frozen in time watching the events unfold. He knew they had loved each other once but her love for him..... Roan could not move as he watched his world began to crumble.

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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.

"And I, Jharmeen Jhin'Darr, repeat that vow, in the hopes that you truly can learn to trust in it."

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"I will trust you my love." He spoke those words in but a wisper but the depths were as the roar of the rancor. Roan looked over to where his brother still stood. "We both have much to learn from this one as she does from us as well. I have acted upon mistrust and anger my brother. Our people dead for those reasons but from their lesson learned we will survive."

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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...

[ 02-17-2002 05:36 PM: Message edited 1 time, lastly by Erik Kartan ]

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