Stepping away from IllaAnda then, Shayla slithered to Kieran, a sticky-sweet smile growing on her face. Reaching out, she cupped his chin in one hand, her greeny-blue eyes arrowing into his, and into the very Darkness of who he was.

And yet She Who Was sensed something, something she recognized, deep within him. Again she scratched and scrabbled and tried to gain a foothold within the black soul that was Shayla now...

Shayla slapped such senses into submission.

"But what are we going to do, my Darkest Heart?" she purred softly. "There is a time for everything...but what about him, the one who would call himself a M---"

But before Shayla could finish her words, at long last She Who Was Within finally found the strength...

...and an avenue...

...to do something.

Shayla released Kieran's chin, her hands flying to her abdomen, and screamed, great pains taking hold of her small form as sweat suddenly beaded on her brow.

"Noooo..." Shayla moaned, crumpling to the ground as she sought for comfort from anywhere...

...and as She Who Was Deep Within did just the same, stretching out and finding the Only One who Truly in this moment could save her...

Jharmeen...

[ 04-27-2014 02:17 PM: Message edited 1 time, lastly by Shayla Stargazer Petrolu ]

--------------------

Oh, Zackary, how I failed you. I wasn't strong enough....

...and how I fail you even still.

There, on the non-ground of the Darker Realms, Shayla convulsed, her heart pounding, sweat pouring from her body. She groaned, and it was as though every muscle in her body was contracting.

And perhaps that was precisely what was happening. And as it did, that which was Shayla felt the life....

...yes life...! that had been developing within her slipping away. For while it had been partially of the Dark One, that which had been developing was also partially she, Shayla Stargazer Petrolu...

She who yet lived.

And it was She who once more op[ened the link with one Jharmeen Jhin'Darr Qutaro, the only Sister she had ever known, while simultaneously taking hold of the human body which was hers, to rid herself of That which linked her to this awful dark place.

As the contractions lessened, two unformed sacs of flesh lay on the ground in a pool of blood, and the tension in Shayla's muscles finally slackened.

And she that was within pulled fiercely on that Link, knowing that Time was of the Greatest Essence...

[ 10-13-2014 08:27 PM: Message edited 1 time, lastly by Shayla Stargazer Petrolu ]

--------------------

He stared at the lumps on the ground. With a slight quiver, the masses went still. Ichor dripped into a pool of dark liquid which glistened in the non-light. He took a step forward, then fell to a knee. He looked at Shayla, still trembling and fearful, a distant look on her face. He placed his palm on her forehead and stroked her hair back.

“Why?” he asked. “Why would you do this?”

A thought to him suddenly, not entirely his own but vivid and sure.

“It was her,” he hissed. “It was! The flame haired witch has come to claim what is mine once again. That which was given to me freely, that which is mine to command and control, and SHE wants it!”

Furious, he stood and in one swooping motion pulled Shayla to her feet by the hair. He flung her effortlessly through the air, to land unceremoniously onto the dangling form of the former Dark Lord. He snarled and turned to night, roaring his anger and pain.

“My HEIR!” he cried to open skies of the Realms. “My queen, and now my heir! Come to me, witch! Face me!”

His voice boomed into the Darker Realms, shaking the fabric of atmosphere that permeated all.

Phalomir worked the controls as the ship plunged into the otherness that was the portal. On the other side it emerged, piercing into a nothingness that was all too familiar to the Dark Lord. On this side was nothing but pain, suffering, sadness and maniacal chaos.

And it had nearly been his home.

“We are here,” he said flatly.

The vastness of eternal darkness stretched before them, lending only an endless stream of unknown landmarks to confound and deflect any attempt to navigate this wasteland. Yet Phalomir knew what he sought was here, out there in the ethereal ocean and unreal substance that was the landscape. All that he was, past and present, though a wild tangle of conflicting memories, held one constant that would not waver. And she was here.

“Jharmeen,” he said softly, gazing into the void. He glanced at ShaRhylla, his strange ally, daughter of hate and love, and no stronger a soul would there ever be.

“She is here,” he said to her. “And so is your father. There is a tower in this wasteland, a mockery of light that stands alone and tall in the curtain of darkness. That is where our search should begin. Feel for it, reach for it, tell me the direction and I will take the ship there.”

--------------------

And ever present was the dire possibility that her presence here was being announced to the denizens of this frightening place as a complete oxymoron, a shining beacon of light amidst the darkness and deathless lethality which owned it.

She couldn't help but shiver, contrasting her present predicament with her former time here, when she had come, yes all hell-fire and righteousness, to claim her daughter. A small whimper she couldn't quite totally suppress rose up within her; quickly, she reached out carefully to grasp yet more of the non-reality of this place, padding the cloak of Darkness she had already enveloped herself within as a means of protection against an the timeless Evil of which it was made. Love made her strong, but experience told her yet again how incredibly lucky she was to have succeeded in bringing ShaRhylla home at all. The two factions waged a war within her heart, one screaming for her to fling off the cloak, charge ahead full-force, and by the sheer courage of the action once again win the day.

The other, more sensible, screamed just as loudly that she hunker low...

And think.

So she drew the cloak more tightly about herself and, using every ounce of strength and ability she had, reached out again with that tendril of goodness yet covered by Night, carefully and quietly seeking out her beloved Adept and Sister once again.

And came to a sudden, jerking halt, both hands flying to cover the scream trying to escape her lips in response to the Primal One that tendril suddenly crashed into. It took a moment to force that tendril onward, oh so gently but persistently, so that she could finally see...

Shayla. Laying on the noisome non-ness, laying at the feet of Darkness and it's progeny, a female who looked familiar, while that darkness seemed...

...all to familiar to her as well.

And beside Shayla, laying equally still, two tiny forms, in which sparks of life were quickly fading.

No! No-o-ooo!

Reaching out further, now with her eyes instead of her senses, she saw a shadow on the horizon: tall and spare, broken and black.

Her destination.

With a start she recognized the correlation between what her eyes and what her senses were telling her:

That Shayla was there.

Common sense reared its inconvenient head just in time to keep her from rushing in with the audacity that angels fear to use, and obliged her to stop and think once more.

Undoubtedly the Darkness is already aware of my presence. If I am lucky, however, it may not yet be aware of my actual locality. Perhaps if I act quickly enough...

Drawing the cloak about her more tightly she closed her eyes, reached out with all her talents, felt the Glyph on her forehead raven up the electromagnetic spectrum, bursting outward and upward in sheer love-fueled glory...

...knew it had been seen, couldn't help but be seen...

...and felt the utter strangeness of the molecules in her very own body suddenly breaking apart, becoming freely fluid to twist and turn and snap and recombine...

Leaving as final product herself, transformed into the semblance of one of the demons of the Realm.

Exhausted, she used her last strength to cover the Glyph on her forehead, which had gone from a brilliance of gamma-burst intensity to sullen blue. It hunkered in quietude, giving her a precious second to rest and recover.

The Love for her Sister thoroughly blanketed by Night, the Glyph hidden beneath it, her body transformed, she let the rest of the enveloping cloak drop so that all but the Glyph residing in that body would be visible to the Dark. A small amount of her strength was yet left; she used it to coat that body with a thin veneer of non-ness, so that the Life which flowed through her would be likewise masked.

She fervently hoped.

Then, bringing forth the image of Shayla laying quiet and helpless, bringing forth the image of her own daughter playing at being Queen of this place, bringing forth the betrayal of Recinis, images of everything she could possibly remember that had brought anger welling freely up from her soul, she let it flood through her just as freely, giving her a new kind of strength.

Wanting to cry it out, knowing she should not, she cried to herself:

Shayla, I am coming!

Then letting that anger fuel itself into blinding rage, held just beyond the reach where it would begin to poison her heart, she bounded onward, gibbering and drooling, yapping and snarling.

Seeming for all intents and purposes to be nothing but yet another of the uncountable representations of every evil action or thought created in the Universe which men term real.

[ 03-25-2015 12:56 PM: Message edited 1 time, lastly by Graysith ]

--------------------

But all she said aloud was, "Yes."

Before she could even determine just how it was she was supposed to acquiesce to the Dark Lord's command she found herself following it, as something deep within her burst out, reaching, seeking, feeling...

...Wanting...

Deep within her soul something nickered slightly, just the slightest feathery touch of something beyond certainty and assurance and self-confidence. Something somehow deeper, something which seemed to assure her that this was right, and in being right flowed easily from her, as easily as drawing breath.

Something somehow allowed her, begrudged to her... because she:

Was Her.

None of this reached actual consciousness within her. All she felt was an initial jolt of surprise that this ability came at her slightest thought, followed by a surge of elation so great, so powerful that her eyes widened in fellow recognition of it.

Power is my being, and the elation driving it my soul!

She almost threw back her head in animalistic joy of it all, by the sheer familiarity of it...

But stopped as a face wafted up from somehow distant memory, a face torn and bloodied, sunken and hollowed but yet somehow unbeaten, a face belonging to He whom she sought.

Whichever he is, HE is my FATHER!

THAT alone gave the kernel of brightness and loyalty and righteousness and honesty she was born with, mere years yet somehow eons ago, the strength to withstand the steady encroachment of The Dark, which quietly and insidiously beat at her and beat at her, recognizing her yet howling for the way their own One Selected had been fouled to them. It/they wanted her back, felt it within her that she wanted to be back, yet could not quite gain total entrance into her body or soul, not as it used to do at any rate.

And thus, in her reaching out to find Ankrist Roan, the Dark Lord of the Sith Warriors, ShaRhylla began fighting what could be the most important battle of her young life...

And didn't even consciously know of it.

At length-

"There!" She stopped, reared back, pointing toward the forward bulkhead even as her eyes opened to fixate upon a point in non-ness only she could see.

"He is there!"

She quieted, trembling, holding the pose so her companion could somehow make use of it. How he would do this exactly, she wasn't certain.

--------------------

No response from the witch. No shriek of rage, no resounding proclamation of self-deluded righteousness and right to revenge. His own rage, his own need for revenge, had taken full flight within him and even as he stood panting to the darkness of the Realm , the dark intelligence within him hissed its commands.

He closed his eyes, reaching out to the denizens of the Realm. Telling them all, together, at once, that foreign life now walked among them. Every imp, every cacodemon, every night-winged fury would prowl and sense what did not belong and report it.

Kieran turned to Shayla, his eyes afire. She did not meet his gaze, but stared at some distant speck beyond him.

“Look at me,” he said coldly. Shayla did not obey. He lowered his head and walked towards her, hands crumpling into fists. Towering over her, he looked down upon her suddenly small form, and hesitated. She continued to stare outward, not recognizing his presence. His demeanor changed and he knelt before his queen, taking her limp hand.

“I do not blame you for your weakness,” he said. “I sense within you now the cold spark of the other side, the evil calculations of the one who would steal you away from your rightful place. You must fight her, my love, fight her with every ounce of your strength. You belong with me, you spoke the words and took freely the new life I offered. You took the Realm and your place within it. You gave me a name, you gave me your flesh, and I know you would not betray me. So now, I ask of you, take my strength and fight this witch!”

Shayla did not respond. Kieran continued to look into her eyes, still vacant. He sighed deeply and looked to the strange witch child IllaAnda.

She shrugged, let her hand drop and tossed her head.

"This is the Queen you've chosen now, Daddy?" she commented, now reaching out with a slender foot to nudge the prone body. "She certainly seems to be weak, for all her blatherings... and not to mention for all the supposed strengths you've given to her."

Her eyes cemented to Keiran's, seeking to reach into his very emptiness, searching deeply, trying to find...

"You've changed, Daddy. What has happened to you?"

She only laughed then, as his anger intensified, letting forth a burst of rage which dropped a passing imp, coming to his command, like a stone. "Oh Daddy, you've always known how to amuse me!"

With that she glided to the fallen imp and as if she was doing nothing more than plucking some lovely flower picked it up and plucked off its head. This she popped into her mouth, munching on the little morsel even as she tossed the remains aside to disappear into the miasma which was the Darker Realms.

"Oh bother, I don't know."

At last responding to Keiran's outburst, she wafted back to him and contemplated the fallen form of Shayla again. Something of the blonde woman's hair reminded her of a day long ago, or was it merely moments that had passed since she and her blood-born sister Alaria had wrought such havoc on Tatooine? Something about this woman's golden hair brought back vivid images of the golden sands which owned the miserable little town of Mos Eisley, but was yet a town in which at least some of the inhabitants rushed to the aid of others should the need arise.

She knew this, she had witnessed it firsthand.

Her delicate nose wrinkled in disgust.

"These beings care about each other, and you know that makes them weak, Daddy," she mentioned as her toe found a stronghold against Shayla's side. With scarcely any effort at all she rolled the unmoving woman over and continued to stare down at her.

"Well, it should. Maybe it does something more. Maybe that's what you have to fight, Daddy. But then, maybe I'm wrong."

Throwing her head back she let a musical laugh escape her throat and began to dance, pirouetting and whirling against the noisome black, presenting herself as a complete oxymoron to anyone watching who actually realized just who and what she exactly was.

Kieran smiled, a grisly sneer of blood soaked teeth. Perhaps this queen he selected was not who she presented herself to be. She was obviously not worthy to the mother of the heir, her body was not up to the challenge.

Is yours?

That voice again, whose was it? That dark whispering… bah, it mattered not. It was just a voice, voices could not hurt, could not command, could not control.

Let her come. It will All be right.

He knelt once more to Shayla and took her chin in his hand. He lifted her face to meet his, and leaned in close so his lips were near her ear.

“I give you that which I never had,” he said. “A second chance. You chose me once, chose to be my queen. If you still make that choice, then follow me. If you do not, then wait here, and your witch will find you. But beware, you shall always be a part of me, you shall always belong to this Realm.”

Kieran stood and turned back to IllaAnda. The smile returned, broad and sinister, and he walked to her. Without looking back to Shayla, he took the hand of the spinning child and brought her to a stop.

...they enticed with furious feriocity.

But She who was within was strong.

Still, without, the darkness that was overtaking lashed out uncaringly, and Shayla's body, having just miscarried and then been flung into the Tower, arched in a great spasm of exquite pain.

She screamed, and the Darkness roared in a hideous sort of glee.

You shall always be a part of me, you shall always belong to this Realm...

She that was within scratched and scraped once more, refusing to release Her teetering grip. Then another piece of what Kieran had spoken fell into place:

The witch shall be here soon, and the reunion should be most entertaining...

The human portion of Shayla's flooded with horror.

Oh noooo....

...she was here, and they knew it...

Oh, no, no, NO!!!

--------------------

Find what does not belong, it thought. Everything here belongs here. What could not belong here?

It moved along nonetheless, looking at everything. Every stone, every dark pebble, every creature that passed on its own search for the unknown, it looked. Nothing did not belong. Was it searching then for nothing?

A shape passed in the path ahead. It was huddled, a hood of some sort sprawled over it so the face could not be seen. It yapped, it snarled, but something was not quite right. It walked in ways that others did, but not quite right. It lurked in the way others did, but not quite right. He fell in line behind it, trying to mimic the strange gait, the almost rightness of it. Others paid it no attention, they were bigger. But he was small, and he noticed.

This is not belonging, he thought. A smile crooked in the corner of his deformed mouth, and a voice he did not know existed drew breath for a cacophony that would alert every denizen to the presence of this wrongness. He completed his breath, and held his clawed hands in a cup to strengthen his warning.

But as the first hint of a sound escaped his cracked lips, a new sound shuddered from behind and up. It was definitely something he had never experienced in all of his days, however many that might have been. It was a cold, metallic, howl that forced him once again into silence and compelled him to turn and face the source of this terrible atrocity.

He turned in time to see the large beast flying above. It was shaped strangely, with no flapping demon wings, no barbed tail, but instead was simultaneously round and rectangular. It gleamed in the dark light, and seemed to glide upon the insidious winds with no effort. It passed directly overhead, then glided beyond.

All thoughts of the strange lumbering wrong creature vanished from the impling’s small mind. Replacing were thoughts of terror, uncertainty, and an urgent need to tell the new old master of this flying thing. He sprung forward, knocking into the strange creature and sending it crashing to the ground. But he continued forward, doing his best to catch up with this new thing, to warn the master…

One who seemed not to be altogether fleeing so much as scampering toward something. Or someone...

Quickly she gained her footing, hunched and hunkered, lidding her eyes now to hide their brilliance, straining with all her might against the Glyph on her forehead which automatically sought to protect her from the rampaging evil of this hellish place.

I cannot be discovered... this one, he cannot run...!

Instinct told her that in that collision something of her reality more than likely impacted the fleeing imp. Yet why was he not attacking her? Running to reveal her to The Dark...?

Oh no!

This was a risk she couldn't take. Once more grasping upon every scrap of anger she yet maintained for every betrayal against herself and her loved ones throughout the insane years following her break from true humanity, a break which bound her more and more tightly to a race who should be dead, she simply let them coalesce into a trembling knot of pure hate which catapulted her body into a lightning flash leap. That leap, enhanced now by that wondrous power now so innate within her, covered precisely the distance she needed to intercept the madly fleeing little demon.

She landed on him, growling and yowling and spitting, ignoring his flailing claws, ducking to avoid the poisonous saliva which drooled and sprayed from his hideous mouth, now rolling over and over and over on something that was more the physical embodiment of nightmare than it was ground of any sort, her own claws reaching and seeking and finding and digging deep. They came to a ratcheting halt with her taking the high ground; instinct took hold of her heart and she had her teeth in the dark little thing's throat before she was even aware that she was ripping it out. She clamped deeper and deeper, chewing now, twisting her slender mask of a head, reaching through...

And finally succeeded in completely tearing off the thing's head. In another reflexive leap she was off of it, spitting and swiping the ichor from her face and mouth, gagging on the putrescence of it all, willing the precious Life in the All to keep her alive even as she watched the non-life of the imp drain into the noisome black and become part of it.

It would return again one day, that she knew. But for now this one was gone; hopefully her whereabouts hadn't been revealed to The Dark itself. Leery of the direction in which her thoughts were taking her, she hunkered low, looking about herself, looking forward to where the thing had been running and then back, in the direction it had been running from...

A jolt. It had been careening from something, something that managed to make a demonic imp startled, something it was afraid of. What would possibly make a demon react in that manner within the haven of it's very own realms?

Something was dwindling in the dark. She squinted, peering; then her eyes widened in amazement.

A... a SHIP?!

The darkness within her melted away in an instant. From where else could a ship have come if not from the universe that Men term real? Here were those of her own kind, perhaps someone who knew her; how else would they have gotten into these realms unless...

The All. Death can bring one into the Darker Realms if one is unlucky enough to have caught its eye, but no one simply flies from one dimension into another unless they have the ability to do so.

"Oh Dear Khaandon!"

The whisper escaped her lips, warped for the fact the words were being uttered by a physiology unused to such. But words they were, words yanking her into a sudden surety that she knew who was aboard that ship.

Utterly ignoring the rolling oxymoronic aspect of the non-ground beneath her feet, she took off as fast as she could lope, then canter, and finally gallop... and at length she was nearly flying as though hell itself was hot on her heels. Slitting her eyes, she now relented to herself, let her Glyph now take over her very soul, let it fuel her, fire her, let it lend supernatural speed to her clawed feet...

And sped hell-bent for leather, chasing the ship that had come from nowhere, praying that her own heart wouldn't initiate the final betrayal of the myriad she had experienced, even as she knew she was right.

It is him, it is him!

Onward she sped, the speck in the distance becoming gradually larger, large enough to see well enough to recognize that yes indeed it was a ship and not her imagination or a demon's dream, faster and faster she ran, wanting to change her form but remaining hidden, hiding the Glyph as best she could, panting with the effort this was costing her. Reaching out with her talents, she fairly willed the ship to slow, to come to ground.

Still she ran, wondering if she would even be noticed by the One who was piloting that ship.

[ 12-24-2015 02:50 PM: Message edited 1 time, lastly by Graysith ]

--------------------

He knew that the Roan he had faced before was not the Roan they now sought, but that did little to soothe the knot in his stomach. That Roan had been a beast, and he knew in his heart that he had not seen the last of him, once they reached the tower.

The Tower. He had been imprisoned there by his father… no, by the Master. His father was dead, and whatever that thing was that walked in his father’s shell was certainly no relation. If not for Jharmeen, it was impossible to tell what would have happened.

Ah, Jharmeen. She too had been held here, at least her spirit. When Thoran had betrayed them all at the command of the Master and stole her spirit away to here. Phalomir had been able to return the favor and bring her home.

Jharmeen. Would he ever be reunited with her? He still did not know if she was well, after sending her off with K’Kihl to get medical attention, he had been drawn into one chaotic path after another. He had to see this through, though. Something in the Temple wanted him to see – wanted both of them to see – the truth behind Roan. Whether it was Googly Eyes, or the Temple, or something else in the Sith worlds that sent them here… perhaps it was even the All, or Jharmeen.

He could see her face in his mind, a gentle fog surrounding her and then clearing, bringing her image to crystal clarity. Her smile warmed him, simultaneously washing him with love and breaking his heart with aching. He reluctantly tried to clear his thoughts, to focus on the task at hand, but her image persisted. Her eyes grew narrow, her smile straightening into a determined line. She called to him silently, words stopping short of sound but still projecting an urgency. Again he tried to shake himself back to the moment, his hand tightening on the control stick. But the image returned in vivid crystal, and suddenly he felt compelled to heed it.

“Do you feel that?” he asked ShaRhylla. He glanced to her, the skeptical yet cautiously curious look on her face told him that she too had experienced something. “I’m sorry, it is just for a moment, but I have to turn around.”

He brought ship about and down, nosing to the non-ground. The area was clear for the moment, the swarms of demons were gibbering about the surrounding hillsides. This valley they now surveyed was empty. Almost empty. As the ship slowly descended, a lone figure appeared at the horizon and bolted down the hillside. It was an imp, but even as Phalomir’s finger inched towards the cannon controls he felt something tell him to wait. The figure slowed, panting, and looked up to the ship that hovered 15 meters above. It was definitely an imp. Confused, Phalomir estimated the leaping ability of an imp and reached for the cannon. Then he saw the color glinting from the creature’s face and paused. His hand moved to the altitude adjuster, and he lowered the ship more.

--------------------

A second ticked past; she kept her violet eyes peeled on the ship, watching as it came closer and closer... and then something off to her left captured her attention and yanked it away.

From the surrounding hills and rolling peaks, small and drooling black forms were descending upon her position as well, forms whose dim yappings and proclamations came to her ears like the very knell of Death.

She jerked her focus back to the ship, shivering, knowing they would attack and that Dark Minions in their millions quite simply had the combined mass to hold the ship aground by simply clambering atop it and sitting on it.

A choice had to be made.

Closing her eyes, she lifted her head, seeking outward for living familiarity, seeking inward into her heart of hearts, finding and sending forth in joyous announcement, I am here, my love it is you and this is I; come no closer to this horrible landscape lest the minions of this realm destroy you in their masses!

She then utterly relaxed, let the Glyph burst forth and in that eruption utterly annihilate the guise she had been wearing. The brilliant ultraviolet blue flash quickly descended down the electromagnetic spectrum then, until it reached the sullen indigo which represented the Glyph's natural resting state, and in that darkness was clearly revealed a slender figure, hair of fire framing her face, one dressed in a simple black Sith one-piece martial suit.

One ready for anything. One which took a few steps back... and a few more...

And then, reaching out into her soul for the guidance of that with which her Dark Lord and adoptive Father had endowed her, ran forward and leapt up.

Up and up, impossibly up... her body slammed against the hull of the descending ship, her hands groping, flailing against the metal, seeking, trying to dig in.

And then fingers found purchase on the slenderest of threads: the small edge of the hatch which lay flush against the hull.

In that one moment, she proved if nothing else to indeed be sister to Galen Jhin'Darr Danner.

[ 12-24-2015 02:54 PM: Message edited 1 time, lastly by Graysith ]

--------------------

Jharmeen...she was here...

With effort, Shayla...the Shayla that should be... pushed the Darkness back. With the greatest of efforts, she succeeded, and eyes which had been vacant began to once more come to life. And within the ruined courtyard, those greeny blue eyes began to look about, and her mind began to register coherent thought once more. Simultaneously, in her heart of hearts, that Link she shared with Jharmeen, once closed, now reconnected.

She is here. She has come for you. But you need to do something too, Shayla Stargazer...

And it was in that moment that She Who Was Also a Pilot registered the sounds of flight. With sudden hope dawning, Shayla's greeny blue eyes looked upward, and she caught first sight of the ship, and of the scrabbling imps...

...and though the image wasn't perfectly clear due to the distance, Shayla swore she saw someone jump upwards and cling onto the hull of the ship...

My Sister...

The words were felt, and even more than that as, somehow knowing that now was indeed the time, Shayla that Should Be grasped with great furiousity to that Link, giving what minimal strength she could to it.

You can be Whole...

Knowing that she couldn't make it from the Tower to the ship unseen, however, a brief moment of despair welled within. But She Who Should Be wouldn't allow it.

Fight, dammit. Fight!

And then, turning to something else entirely, something she hadn't in oh-so-very-long, Shayla stretched out, not to just that which was the Force, but to that which she had just begun to truly learn about, the All, and closed her eyes, pulling towards that Link she shared with Jharmeen, and to the very fabric of Time and Space.

She had only been successful in this once before, in a time of true desperation.

Such as now...

But that one, single time, she had been successful...

[ 01-16-2017 09:54 PM: Message edited 1 time, lastly by Graysith ]

--------------------

“Help me!” he called to ShaRhylla, and darted for the ship’s waist. He stopped himself at the hatch controls, first hitting the pressure switch and then the gangplank extender. The hatch opened from the top, extending outward slowly. As soon as enough space had cleared, Phalomir thrust his head and should out to take account of the situation.

Jharmeen hung to the side of the ship, precariously gripping the edge of the hull where the hatch had been sealed against it. There was no time for a smile, as the imps below had gathered in a flock and had begun to hurl stones, black balls of non-earth, and even themselves up towards the ship. Some were coming unbelievably close, propelled by the devilish powers of these creatures. As Phalomir extended his hand to grasp Jharmeen’s, a stone caught him in the temple, sending a blinding flash of pain across his vision. The shock and the shift in balance as he added Jharmeen’s weight to his own, dragged his torso across the ship’s floor and out the hatch. He flung his arm backwards to catch the side of the hatch opening.

Now grasping Jharmeen in his left hand and the ship in his right, he blinked away the trickle of blood from his eye and called out.

“Jharmeen!” he cried. “I am glad to see you are well!”

He looked to the open hatchway and caught ShaRhylla’s eye.

“I am going to swing you to the hatch,” he said. “ShaRylla is here to make sure you make it. Are you both ready?”

[ 12-28-2015 11:47 PM: Message edited 1 time, lastly by Phalomir ]

--------------------

And in that moment, what she had been doing here in the Darker Realms seemed to slam upon the Shayla Who Was with full impact.

“I give you that which I never had,” he had said. “A second chance. You chose me once, chose to be my queen. If you still make that choice, then follow me. If you do not, then wait here, and your witch will find you. But beware, you shall always be a part of me, you shall always belong to this Realm.”

Shayla shuddered inwardly and without, realizing for what was probably truly the first time that she was, in fact deceased. Dead.

And realizing that no matter how many deaths she died she would continue to remain, in one fashion or another.

Being part and parcel of the Darker Realms, Shayla's body--as it was--had begun, once more, to regenerate despite her recent miscarriage. Having been thrown to the tower, she had fallen with great force against the non-ground, perhaps having broken something...

...and yet it did not matter, for that too was regenerating. Placing her elbows to the ground, Shayla pushed herself up, ignoring pains which radiated through her abdomen and up and down her spine, and turned to look at the de-horned, dishonored Dark Lord Roan who was hanging there, mostly dead, but still alive...

...and in that moment, Shayla made a choice.

After all, someone had once pointed out that the opposite of Love was not hate, but it was rather Passion and Apathy that were the true turning points. And while she might be part of the Realms now, being part of this Darkness most definitely did not mean she did not care. After all, hadn’t she said what was truly foremost in her mind not all that long ago, before she had been made Queen? Or maybe It was longer ago than she realized...

Shayla's eyes riveted away from the miserably hanging, disrobed Dark Lord to the non-skies above where a ship was incoming, a mass of demons gathering and nearing...

...Jharmeen hanging precariously as he who would have appeared to be Dark Lord Phalomir reached out for her. And whether or not she herself survived was no longer of concern to Shayla.

For Sisters they always would be. And as a sister, she would give her life.

And there were things that she knew that Jharmeeen deserved to know, and needed to know.

Shayla reached out via the Link she shared with Jharmeen, depositing a memory, along with the knowledge she had: a memory of a pale red young being in a bubbling, active growth tube on Kamino, his genes altered, his age being regressed...

Jharmeen's child.

At first, even Shayla wasn't sure why she felt Jharmeen needed to know this, but that uncertainty quickly faded.

For Jharmeen, like she, had lost a child...and more than one. No mother should outlive her own offspring...

...or be lead to believe she had when perhaps she hadn't.

And the implications of what was being done to Jharmeen’s child were, in a word, terrifying…both in light of how it would make a mother feel as well as in light of why someone would want to remove the Sith genes from a child at all. And, uncertain as to whether or not she would ever be able to leave the Realms again, Shayla knew she had to impart what she knew to someone who still had a chance.

After all, Keiran was interested in the two fetuses she had just lost, and not on the child they had left behind on Kamino. And she was tied here, and to him…

…and to this Realm…

[ 01-14-2017 02:54 PM: Message edited 1 time, lastly by Shayla Stargazer Petrolu ]

--------------------

"I find you most pleasant to gaze upon as well, My Lord," she returned, if a bit breathlessly. "Now, if you would indeed be so kind as to act upon your words, I would be delighted to be welcomed aboar-"

A sudden intrusion, assailed both her body and her mind. The scrabbling impact of the snarling demon against her foot was quickly dealt with by a resounding kick, one which sent the thing sailing off to disappear amidst the millions of its brethren who roiled and tumbled not far beneath the ship.

But the other, the one in her mind...

"Shayla," she whispered, swallowing. "My sister, but--"

Cruel images of a young being held in shining, laboratory ransom slammed against her eyes, effectively blocking all view she had of Phalomir. The ensuing shock eliminated all awareness of the Dark Lord, who carefully but with alacrity - upon seeing how close Jharmeen had come to being bitten by the demon - began swinging her more heartily, gradually building up the necessary momentum to bring her aboard the ship.

"My child..." This time the words were merely mouthed. Then the glyph rocketed alive, blindingly white-hot, sending energies born of sheer anger slashing outward in all directions, lasering downward and eliminating at least 500 of the drooling imps who slavered and howled directly beneath her.

"MY CHILD!"

If not having already revealed herself to the Evil dominating the Realms, she certainly did so now. Shrugging off that knowledge, she merely reached out with her free hand, grasping the travesty of whatever non-matter it was through which they were flying, and ionized it. A large bolt of energy flashed into Phalomir's arm, striking the bulging muscles of it, and causing an immense contraction. His fingers grasped reflexively tighter as his arm responded with one great spasm.

Jharmeen flew up and into the open hatch of the ship with such momentum that it spun his body about as well. The two of them slid and tumbled into the ship, trying to gather their collective wits even as the hatch closed with a decisive whoosh behind them. The engines roared; that and centripetal force told her they were arcing upward and away. She scrambled quickly, trying to gain her footing.

"Shayla, she is nearby!" she gasped, finally standing upright on the still tilted deck.

"And, oh my Lord, my child! My child by Recinis; it is on Kamino! Shayla sent this to me by Link... THE LINK!

Turning away, she closed her eyes and returned a message to her own Chosen Sister.

"We are here, we have come for you. I brought forth others from this place, I can do so again, my Sister! Fear not!"

With that, she opened her eyes, turning to find that the great Dark Lord had managed to regain his footing as well. He looked down upon her slim frame, dried blood marring his handsome face.

"Oh, Phalomir!"

She threw herself into his strong arms and remained there, willing the moment to last a lifetime.

--------------------

Thanking the stars, he realized that ShaRhylla must had regained the controls and was moving them away from the horrific mass of demons trying to take them down. A ship of metal and ions most definitely did not belong in this realm, but neither did beings of flesh and blood.

Such as Shayla…

What in the world was she doing here? If she was being held in this terrible land of eternal darkness then there was indeed no time to lose. He took pause however, with Jharmeen’s words coming to their full meaning in his mind. His face drew blank for a brief flicker of time, then the scent of her hair brought him back to the bliss once again. It was unfair, to be away from her for so long, not knowing if she had survived the wounds which sent her away to begin with, to desperately search for her in a vast galaxy, only to find her in a wasteland dimension not even of real space, with no time to properly reunite.

“My love,” he said, forcing the words from his lips before his heart could stop them. “I have waited so long for this moment, to know that you made it to safety with K’Khil. But I can wait longer to learn what happened, for we must pick up Shayla quickly if she is nearby. And we will speak of your child when Shayla is safely returned to us.”

He reluctantly unwrapped his arms from her and stepped back. His mouth twitched and his hand unthinkingly shot out to take hers, and together they stepped to the cockpit.

“ShaRhylla,” he said. “Shayla is nearby. With our own proximity to the tower, my guess is that she is near there. Can you take us in for a scouting fly-by, without taking us too close to the impish mass? And if your vision proves true, perhaps there is where will find your father.”

--------------------

"Of course I can," she deigned, ending with a little snort. Then she turned back to the console and deftly moved her fingers across the controls in front of her. Her tone one as if nothing untoward had happened at all, as if nothing untoward had ever ever happened between them, she directed another comment behind herself.

"You are looking well, Mother."

She never even removed her eyes from the forward window, which now was showing her something new slewing in from one side, coming up from an angle as she banked the yet flyable remnants of Devil-May-Care through the non-molecules of the non-atmosphere of the horrific realm.

The Dark Tower. The Black Tower.

The tower which, somehow, was nothing more than the embodiment of certain destinies, soon to find fruition.

"There it is." She scarcely breathed the words, then followed with ones more strongly stated.

"Your... sister is down there, too. I can sense her as clearly as I can see you, Mother."

ShaRhylla allowed herself one quick twist in her seat to cast a glance at the pair before her: her mother and He who she knew she would have to one day call father.

No. Father he would never be, could never be. That worthy, the one who owned her very heart and soul, lay ahead.

One for whom she would take on this entire Realm, and all the evil within it, to make him whole and well and bring him home with her.

As for Dark Lord Phalomir?

She cast him a long, strange look. Then she quickly turned back around and, grasping the forward thrusters in one hand and placing her foot on the activator for the bow ones, aimed the hardy freighter downward and headed toward the confrontation she knew awaited them all below.

--------------------

He wondered at the child. She called him “Daddy”, though this puzzled him. He knew of no children, save the aborted lumps now decaying in the distance. He certainly would have remembered this one. Yet there was something very familiar about her, bringing a simultaneous sense of longing and dread.

No matter. His focus must now lay with his queen and the witch who was coming to claim her. He had expected – no, hoped – that Shayla would turn from her sullen, remorseful thoughts and rejoin him. But instead she had merely stood, looking to the sky. But he could hold her no ill will, he had given her the choice. That which you hold dearest should always have the choice to leave you.

It appeared her choice had been made. He sighed a distressed breath, and glancing once more to the useless imp child, he stood. Shayla was still looking upward, and he followed her gaze to the dark sky of the day. An object, the ship that carried the witch, was now descending and seemingly on its way to pluck Shayla from her life here. She had chosen, indeed. But she had chosen poorly.

Kieran stepped upward, so he now stood atop the stone. His Sith body was strong, immense with bulging muscles that he assumed drove the lady Sith mad with lust. He brimmed with Sith majick as well, making this body the perfect specimen to host the powers within him. This perfect body, with that perfect essence, never before had there been such… perfection. And surely such perfection could easily lift and hurl a huge stone towards that imperfect machine which now closed in.

He stretched out with his feelings, finding another Tower stone that had fallen eons before, lifted it with his majick, and hurled it into the air, towards the ship that he had once piloted out of this realm. Now this ship was infested with a witch, an incomprehensible evil that stood accused of atrocities against his realm, his queen, and himself. He was the defender now, the perfect power, the pure. And he would cast the first stone. He smiled and watched as the huge stone arced its way towards the ship.

The word was out of Shayla's mouth before she could really even think. Likewise, she was able to stretch out and send the huge stone arcing towards the Devil-May-Care back to the non-ground of the realm with enough force that it crumbled. Keiran whirled, the look in his eyes full of anger...

...and something else...???

Suddenly, something deep within Shayla rose up, and she was conflicted.

True opposing forces were not Love and Hate, but Passion and Apathy...had she not just thought this to herself...?

Keiran was looking anything but apathetic.

No, Shayla. He's been using you, as a potential incubator, no less...

...what in the worlds are you thinking...??

[ 01-15-2017 10:24 PM: Message edited 1 time, lastly by Shayla Stargazer Petrolu ]

--------------------

What if she remained on this course towards certain obliteration? Kieran feared for her, truly. If she were to go with the witch, then all hope was lost once more – no heir, no future.

And I am trapped in this useless body even longer…

The voice, once more!

Kieran grabbed his head and snarled. “Be SILENT!” he roared. He clenched his teeth and shot a hateful look to the oncoming ship. He would not do battle with his queen, but he could not let this witch so easily descend and take away his most cherished possession. As long as Shayla remained, the hope of an heir also remained.

Remember Kamino…

Ignoring the voice, Kieran lifted his head and called outward, once again channeling the connection to these realms. “Arise, my legions! Heed my call, my generals and lieutenants! Arise, fly! Bring down this alien machine and rip asunder all within it!”

Her own hand was squeezed tighter yet by her Dark Lord's fingers, which seemed to hold on as if grasping a line of life. The Glyph on her forehead swelled suddenly into brighter life, as an eerie sensation of trepidation suddenly assailed her. That trepidation was joined with a bit of her own as she realized it was coming from Phalomir; with a little jolt she suddenly realized that this moment was more than his helping her save the heart and soul and very being of her beloved Chosen Sister, but rather seemed to be some strange sort of homecoming in his eyes. A small shudder thrilled through her, one that she squashed as quickly as she could; the Glyph responded by hiking it's energies a bit higher in wavelength and frequency. And as for her daughter...

ShaRhylla sat piloting, stone-still in her seat, every muscle in her body rock-hard, wire-tense, absolutely unmoving, unspeaking, her bi-colored eyes riveted to the strange monument that they would be upon in mere moments. Her physical aspect hardened further, and she trembled, leaning forward just the tiniest bit so as to rivet her gaze on something small and dark and incredibly, terribly dangerous.

Jharmeen caught it too, freed a hand and pointed to the forward viewscreen.

"There!" she exclaimed suddenly, indicating a personage standing atop a pinnacle of rock, high above the miasma of non-ground, his being casting no shadow, reflecting no light, yet being easily revealed to all as he turned his head and looked straight at their ship.

Straight into their souls...

She closed her eyes, sensing the yowling of his minions, sensing the confusion in her sister below nearby, sensing the dark and the soft, silky seduction of it, of the power it could offer, of what they could be if they would only simply land and open up freely...

"NO!"

She ripped her hand from Phalomir's, grasped him by his chin, turned his face to hers so their eyes met. With her other hand she reached out and gave her daughter an awakening rap on top of her shining crown of flaming hair.

"It begins! Do not lose yourself; fight this!" she cried, supplementing her words with another rap to ShaRhylla even as the hand upon Phalomir's chin removed itself to lay firmly along the strong planes of his face.

Something caught the corner of her eye; with effort, she turned from Phalomir, leaned forward over ShaRhylla's shoulder, and stared down upon the non-ness which roiled with millions of the demonic imps. Even as she watched, more popped into being, created as yet another evil thought in universal reality brought it into hideous life.

To rear it's slavering face upward, snarling silently and drooling, as seen from their vantage point. To raise great wings, and to fly...

Her blood iced.

"ShaRhylla!" she cried, now grasping her daughter and shaking her from her strange reverie. "He is sending his demons to take down this ship! I can do nothing against them from its confines!

"Set it down!"

[ 01-15-2017 11:22 PM: Message edited 1 time, lastly by Graysith ]

--------------------

Her greeny blue eyes, turning somewhat unreadable, looked upwards to the Devil-May-Care, her heart longing for something she hadn't had in oh-so-very long. She stretched oust across the Link she shared with Graysith, closing her eyes for a brief moment to relish it and to give herself resolve.

Kieran observed none of this, however, for his focus was now purely on calling to his legions. Shayla's eyes opened, and her greeny-blue eyes turned to regard him, analyzing something that was niggling deeply within her...

...and something she sensed in him. For a moment she tilted her head sideways, looking him up and down measuringly...

...wondering. Shayla steeled herself, knowing the only thing she could possibly do, and then took one step, than another, closer to Kieran, approaching him. And while his mind was clearly not on her, she had a suspicion he was yet keenly aware of her just the same.

"And what am I to you anyway, other than a means to an end?" she asked, still approaching, even as her senses stretched forth to him without deceit.

For truly she wondered...

[ 01-16-2017 07:28 PM: Message edited 1 time, lastly by Shayla Stargazer Petrolu ]

--------------------