There were no forests here. No freezing hills of ice, nor her blazing desert heat and sand. But Bedisa made do, perched on the middle of the sick bay, surrounded by metal and lights and the 

rushing sound of a metallic, living planet. There was the Force here too. There was a balance and a centre to be found even here. Her breathing slowed… And slowed. She needed to keep watch. She 

wouldn’t need sleep, really, like this. Perhaps… There was that faint… Something, a something she thought perhaps was just the natural sound of Nar Shadaa in her mind.

She needed to watch for her friends. There was still someone out there.

A faint noise enters, a soft buzz, white noise is all it seems at first.

Bedisa frowns briefly and then turns herself inward. Deeper. Perhaps this is just the noise of the planet, big and thriving with life as it is.  Even though it… No, it does not unsettle her. Not yet. She breathes and is calm again.

The noise grows louder, moving around her like a circling animal, growing louder then fading.

She breathes. Pauses. This is not as it should be. This is… She remembers the vision of Hoth, the voice… Immediately her defenses go up, and her spirit voice echoes, soft and sad but steady.

Who are you?

The sound lets out a whisper, the voice is deep, cruel, but… Familiar. “Who indeed…?” The voice almost sounds…Like Brembal’s.

The chill that runs through her is immediate and apparent. But… She is quiet for long enough to let him know it affected her, but her facade remains calm. I am still young in the Force, but I know when his spirit left this world. You cannot be him.

The voice circles her, the spirit coming stronger as it feels her resist “Maybe I’m not, but he does stir you… “

She takes a soft breath. It hurts, but better her then… No, she buries that thought deep, as deep as she can, away from prying eyes and thoughts.  Perhaps. I will not lie and say I was not marked by him. He had that strength to him, terrible as he was. She resists. Calmly. Level. Jedi but not. Bending with the movements of the Force, rather then forcing them. A betraying spark, deep within her as well. Curiosity. Studying him as he studied her.

She could feel his cruel grin, bright red eyes burning her mind as he stared. “Unmarked… Oh I’m sure he left more than just a mark…” the voice teased her, seeing what caused a reaction.

She would not hide certain things. She allowed a flinch as the blood red gaze slipped through her mind. A mark. But one that went deep. Soft and sad as she spoke with him, but without fear. Without anger. I’m sure you know of such things. The mark that the love of a Sith can lay on a person.

“Oh I know, so strong it even called back the dead…Do you think he is happy, in death he can be with the only woman he ever truly loved… Lydia…” The voice cackled wickedly, the sound echoing around her mind

She is silent for a time. There is pain, clearly, unhidden, but she bears it and maintains hey poise. If it makes him happy… If it brings her peace…I do not mind. If somehow he still exists, and there is peace and_ balance to his soul, I can bear it. She muses a little even, her barrier to him flexing and shimmering with her emotions. Not fighting them. Although in some ways… In many ways… He deserves punishment as well.

“And what of you, don’t you deserve some punishment, you call him so terrible, but did you ever stand against him?” The voice moves, as if its walking around her, the aura of a blood red face staring down at her “Your emotions tell of a tortured soul, do your sins weigh so heavily on you?”

Yes. She lets him circle her, doing her best to maintain her control.Very heavy. I have sinned. I work to repay my debts, every day. And she looks back at him. Gently, of all things. Such is the cost of desire.

The grin flashed bright, “Desire, the fall of many, I wonder what opened way first, your heart, or your legs.” He cackled. “They admired him, they distrust you, as soon as Halo is home, they will 

cast you out again…”

There is that flash of pain again, but she nods, deep within her meditation.Perhaps both. I was overwhelmed by him, but the choice was mine to make. She breathes, heavy with the weight of her guilt. In some ways, I do not regret…but I know my own shame and own it. I do regret it. If they cast me out, they have every right to. I do not expect any forgiveness, nor should they be obligated to give it. Each word he speaks, though, is a blow. Each cackle a tremor to her shield. She maintains, as best she can…and yet, under the fear and the pain, there are hints of a core of iron, unknown to herself.

“I wonder….what of family, you are young enough…I wonder what your parents would say…if they new how far into your depravity you fell.” He ponders, his wicked grin ever present. “Truly you are an enigma, I sense the darkness, and the light, but they do not blend, indecision and fear rule you..because you fear what you could become in the dark, and are too far gone to return to the 

light….trapped in twilight by yourself alone..”

Light and dark are relative. She murmurs, drawing herself up. A flicker of anger at the mention of parents, woven with protective fear into her tapestry of emotion, woven in the shield she has been slowly, piece by piece, weaving around herself. Expanding outwards around the med bay. Then further. In a moment of insight, letting the emotions fuel her, using the guilt rather then being 

owned by it.I am not the only who slips through twilight in these days of indecision. What of you, I wonder? Have you always lived in the dark? Do you have that honesty of purpose to admit that this is what you freely choose?

“It is, the darkness has always been my companion, my love is dark, my children are dark, my blood is bathed in shadows…” He laughs. “You claim they are relative yet have you ever stood in the presence of a Sith without the instinct in the back of your mind to draw your blade?” He moves in closer, feeling her shield building. “Twilight cannot last, there will come a day when you must choose, these “grey walkers” who seek to step along the line will one day face that choice, give in to the darkness, or hide like cowards alone to avoid taking responsibility…”


That is a stand against evil. That is a thing I will always do. She maintains, starting him down calmly, gently, across the space of the Force. That Force is separate from what morality at choose. It is shaped by us. It is what I draw strength from.

“Your strength is hollow, every decision or morality made by we who wield the force changes the force, the balance is in constant flux, the forces will is ever shifting, and volatile.” his power begins to flair, she would feel her shield begin to be pressed down on her, the room becoming hot. “Without foundation, a building crumbles, you stand so loosely on the edge a breeze could knock you over, your will is strong, but not strong enough to withstand.” The room is filled slowly with screams, her friends, her parents, Brembal screaming for her help, the room feeling as if it were burning.

She trembles, she sways, and her forehead breaks out with sweat. She can stand the heat. She lets it bear down on her, wash over her, flow around and through her. Remember the heat of the desert. Days on hand. She can withstand this. But the screams… the screams make her cling to that ledge, assuring her soul that these were illusions cast by a powerful Sith. Yes. You are right.  She takes a deep breath of the burning air, ignoring how it scorches her lungs. Balance. Such clarity from the Sith. Yet you are one end of two extremes. The Jedi are the other. Yes, my strength is meagre now, as is my understanding. But with each blow…with each scar…with each touch of light and shadow I learn more. Even this, even you, brings wisdom.  You may triumph. You may abide. In all your power and hatred and blood. But in the end your own extremism will be your downfall. Light, suddenly, seems to fill her eyes, and she gasps at the spark of illumination. Sudden, awe-filled. A brief vision that overwhelms her. As it will be the downfall of the Jedi.

And reflected back to him, in her mind’s eye, is the briefest of glances, the flicker of a soul of memory. An image of a wasteland, barren and grey and tossed with wind, with only two sparks within it. One on either side, each burning as brightly as the other. 

He reels back from the vision, watching it play out he pushes back, the darkness surrounding him, this time it felt different, like he had…help, someone far stronger pushes through his mind into hers through their connection! Silence, not even her own breathing could break it, two solid red eyes, that of a Chiss, peer from the darkness, they slant, as if it was tilting its head.

Bedisa draws a sharp breath, frozen as the darkness grabs her. The two lights in her vision fade, the waste land disappears, and all there is… Is this darkness, deep and absolute. She watches in 

not terror, but overwhelmed awe tinged with fear, as her own will reasserts itself. She allows the darkness to wash over her, through her, chilled to the bone, and channelling it just to keep herself and her mind her own pushes her to the brink.

The figure does not speak, simply stares, lighting crashes beside her, sudden and without warning, a deafening thunder echos through her mind as the figure steps closer.

Bedisa cries out, silently, struggling to maintain herself. Her ears, her mind is ringing, battered on all sides by this storm the figure brings. Breath. She can… She can…. Resist. Watch.

Who….are…you…

It stands before her, hand reaching out to press a sharp nail to her forehead, a vision is painfully forced into her mind, Eirnin, alive but in pain, his body bloody and in pieces, hooded figures 

dragging him away after the blast on Correlia, next a flash of light, and he is on a slab in a lab, metallic arms and armour seared into his skin. The hand is removed.

Bedisa cries out, her eyes flashing red as the pain of the vision overwhelms her. She touches the dark side, draws back and grasps for the Light. Eirnin… Is that…. you… Why…

The figure backs away, squinting at her, a cruel voice, high in register, slinks into her minds ear “Death….” As if answering her, before he mind is silent again, both gone from her mind.

Eirnin…what… She wavers, her defences wavering, and in the real world, slowly begins to topple over, drenched in sweat. Oh, Eirnin…

Author Wallaroo
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