Calen tore through brush and fauna, his legs burning with exhaustion and his lungs teeming with complaint from the intense demand by the muscles of his body to supply more and more oxygen. Adrenaline pumped through his blood, augmenting his strength and speed and momentarily holding the bulk of the pains of exhaustion at bay from realization. The young Miraluka searched frantically for a place, any place at all where he could escape this danger that burned upon his scent like a wild animal. The difference between such atrocious natural selection and his situation, however? There lived no such animal capable of eating a being like Calen, or any animals whatsoever. He was supposed to be alone, isolated from everyone, especially his own people.

It had all been a lie, a cover-up.

The council had intended to seal his fate once and for all whether the planet ate them or they had to finish him off by means of alternative intervention. This had been nothing short of a plan to murder the young Force Sensitive out of pure and simple narrow-minded constraints imposed by those who feared any use of the force that they themselves did not approve. Corrupt and arrogant. The only term that described such individuals so aptly was “Control Freak”

Each and every one of them.

A snag at the ankle was all it took to interrupt Calen’s flight from danger, his mind playing catch up amidst the intoxicating overflow of hormones before he had realized he was headed face first into the first. And with a powerful thud, he fell palms first, his joints shrieking with pain as they took the brunt of his weight and gave with the impact, causing his chest to slam into the ground almost un-dampened, followed by a turned right cheek. Pain burned through his body as he screamed in reaction to it before hauling himself onto his back, a hand pressured to his cheek out of natural instinct to suppress the wound on his face.

Eyes alight he saw his pursuer. Never had he made a single stride of headway in forging a distance between them. The hunter had kept pace all along, never faltering in step as Calen burned through the jungles. A hiss sang across the air as an emerald beam ignited from a glinting hilt.

And just like that, it was over. Calen’s mind fought through the haze sleep as the sun played over his face through the shutters of the room he was currently occupying, the unpleasant smell amidst the sheets of the bed he had taken residence in filling his nasal passages as a fresh reminder as to where he was and what had happened to his life.

Reaching to his right to the dust-covered nightstand next to him, Calen’s fingers closed around the bulk of his blindfold before he slipped it over his head and ran those same fingers through his stark white hair in an effort to keep it out of his face. While the follicles themselves had no effect on his vision whatsoever, they did exist as somewhat of an annoyance when they fell across his face, their thin existences serving only to create a sensation that would only cause one to scratch or claw at their own face in reaction to.

Falling back down into the musty pillow, Calen lost himself in thought. How long had he been here now? He had lost track of that awhile ago, nor had he bothered to keep any form of count. It was only now that he kinda wished he had. What if he did get off of this cruddy planet? How would he be able to tell anyone how old he was or how long he had survived all on his own for? People would end up thinking he was just making it up or otherwise hallucinating. That’s how you got committed to mental health centers.

Lifting up the hunting knife that had been lain right next to where his headband had previously sat, Calen toyed with the sharp instrument amidst his fingers. What if he never got off of this planet? What if he were doomed to die here alone, afraid, detached from any form of society whatsoever?

Dragging the tip of the blade across his bare belly, Calen positioned the instrument between his ribs, over his beating heart and lay his hands atop its hilt as if prepared to drive it through his own flesh, his mind lingering upon the idea, but failing to execute the plot.

Why shouldn’t he? He had nothing anymore. It had all been taken from him all because he had dared to do what everyone else had scorned him for. All because he had explored a higher calling, a better way of doing things.

“Why can’t they just understand?” he murmured to himself as he tossed the bayonet back onto the nightstand and curled up amidst the molded blankets once again. Life had been anything but fair to Calen.

An incessant beeping roused Skygge from her meditations. "What now?" she asked herself as she rose and headed for the cockpit.

She'd had another vision, a new one this time. As she moved forward, she played it over again in her mind.


Asajj's eyes snapped open. They were here. She could feel it. Rising, she opened the door to the cockpit and stuck her head in. "You have complied. Good. Where is it?"

One of the pilots turned to face her. "Beneath us, Lady Ventress. You'll see it in a moment."

As the shuttle rolled to make its approach, the world filled the viewport. It was reddish-brown, almost barren. The sight took her breath, if only for a moment, but Skygge noticed that the frequency of her breath increased. Asajj stared hard at the world, taking in its every contour and feature, then began to nod. "Yes," she said. "This is the place. Take us down."

Skygge's perspective widened as the shuttle moved forward. She felt as though she was in space, watching the ship descend towards the barren, lifeless planet below. As she continued to draw back, she saw that her original assessment was correct; if there was life on this planet, it was hidden far underground. Where was this place?

Her perspective narrowed quickly, and she once again entered the cockpit. Asajj stood there as if in a trance. There was something important about this world, something Skygge needed desperately to learn. As the shuttle landed, Asajj puposefully strode to the exit hatch and climbed out. As she stood on the dry, dusty surface of the world, she said, "Here. Here is where my redemption begins."


When she reached the cockpit, Skygge realized that she was nearing her destination. As she waited for the time to pull the ship back into realspace, she pondered the vision. A barren world, and redemption. It had to mean something, but what? Did Asajj really turn back to the light? Was that her message? Or was it something else? Whatever it was, Skygge was no longer sure she wanted to find out.

But now she was here. Pulling back on the levers, she watched with some anticipation as the stars once again faded to pinpricks. Her anticipation was rewarded, as there, filling the viewport, was a reddish-brown planet. A quick glance down at her scanners confirmed her suspicions. It was the only inhabitable world in a four-planet system, surrounding a star that was small enough to be missed by most scans, and those that picked it up would never guess that it was large enough to support planets, much less four of them, and one inhabitable at that. It was a hidden world, one lost to the galaxy at large.

Though something must have lived here at one time. There were evidences of buildings on the surface, remains of what seemed like it had once been a vibrant culture. Closing her eyes, Skygge reached out with the Force...

And immediately drew back in shock. Screams still echoed, millions if not billions of them, all destroyed in one violent moment. Pain and horror etched forever in the currents surrounding the planet, fear and despair. And...a ravishing hunger in one of those currents. Interesting. It was something Skygge had never felt before, an abnormal and even frightening manifestation of a twisted form of the Dark Side of the Force. Cautiously, she reached out once more, feeling for that current. And the visions came again...


The massive ship orbited the planet, a planet full of life. Green valleys, blue oceans, great forests, and most of all people filled the world. The ship, though, was a different story. It was a design Skygge had only seen in the history holos, histories of the great Sith War thousands of years ago. This ship was somehow different, though - it seemed to be run by a skeleton crew. And there was someone or something on the ship that hungered, though for what she couldn't quite tell.

It became clear, though, within moments. On the surface of the planet she felt fear in the Force, and she felt something she knew well - the pseudo-fear of Jedi Masters. For, despite what they claimed, Jedi did feel fear in moments when all hope seemed lost. They covered it well, and often even banished it from their minds, but they felt it. Skygge knew that they were on the surface, and they feared whatever was on that ship.

Then everything changed. Skygge wasn't exactly sure what happened, and she knew she'd never be able to describe it later, but within minutes the planet had changed from a planet teeming with life to a reddish-brown, barren world; the very world she had seen from her cockpit only moments before. Her eyes widened in shock as she felt those screams, that pain, that horror. She staggered backwards...


And fell to the ground, eyes still wide. What could do such a thing? And to an entire world? she thought. This bore investigation, and such investigation could only be done from the surface itself. Besides, Asajj had touched down here, and Skygge needed to follow her. So reaching out once more, Skygge felt the current of Asajj's presences and set course to land where the Dark Acolyte had before her.

As she rounded the planet and came in for a landing, Skygge realized that not all the planet was barren and devoid of life. There was one area that was green - no larger than a large garden, but green nonetheless. And it was that one area for which she was headed. She smiled. This must have been what Asajj had meant by her redemption - she was going to try to heal the planet. So Skygge headed for that spot.

Then that nagging feeling hit her again, clearer this time. It was this world, this place. There was something or someone here she needed to find. Wrenching the control stick to the left, Skygge banked the shuttle and skimmed the earth, headed for the nearest city ruin. There, she hoped, she would clear away that annoying little plague of a thought and be free to follow the steps of Asajj Ventress.

A roar streaked through the air, making its way to Calen’s ears, an unmistakable noise that no being save an infant or tribal clansman of some unknown world could mistake. It made the sleeping Miraluka’s ears twitch with reaction before summoning him from the sheets, his body bolting upright as he flung himself from the bed spread and to the window to peer outwards onto the harsh landscape beyond his current oasis.

“No way…” he muttered to himself as he watched the distinct outlines of the craft soar through sea of force that was the air, his blessed Force-gifted vision locked upon its symbol of hope from tail to nose before the young Force-Sensitive froze where he stood, his body going numb.

Within the cockpit was a symbol of energy that resonated a darker spectrum of the Force. Just focusing upon it seemed to give Calen a chill down his spine as he backed away from the window and stalked towards the end table nearest his previous sleeping arrangement and snatched up the knife, gripping tight around its molded hilt. The alignment of the person piloting that craft, it was of no savior that Calen had ever met.

“I knew it, they’ve come to kill me…” he breathed to himself, bolting the door shut as a reaction as he paced about the room, his bare feet chilling against the cold wooden floor. His heart was pounding within his chest all at the same time.

Should he run?

That would seem the most plausible answer to this problem. He was no match from someone with a blaster or even someone larger than him. He was just a kid considering his age. This was becoming more and more frightening with each continued moment of meditation on the subject.

But even if he did run, where would he go? He would eventually have to stop running. Not only that, but what if there were more of them and what if they didn’t give up if they couldn’t find him? He couldn’t run forever. If the council was determined enough to take care of the problem absolutely, they would more-than-likely get their wish fulfilled.

Calen bit his lower lip, the pain of the act barely noticeable in his current state of stress and alert. Wasn’t this enough? Why couldn’t they just have left him alone after tossing him off on this forsaken ball of dirt? Hadn’t he been punished enough for such a stupid crime?!

“ARGH, why, dammit!” he slammed both of his fists into the wall and knelt his forehead between them in frustration, the knife in his right hand sank all the way to its hilt in accordance with this expression of anger and frustration.

“Why does this have to happen to me?” he questioned to nobody but himself as tears began to seep from beneath the blindfold over his vacant eyes. With nothing else, no other choice, Calen cried silently in what he figured were the last inklings of his life. What else could he do?

After a moment of quiet sobbing, the boy removed his blindfold and used the tattered remains of his sleeve to wipe the tears from his blind eyes and face before replacing the blindfold and tugging the knife from the feeble and weakening wall.

“Fine. If this is how things will be, then I will not go quietly,” he declared to himself as he slipped his shoes on and unsecured the door before stepping into the decayed hallway.

“I may not have a blaster and I may not know how to fight, but I do know how to cheat,” he growled under his breath as he stalked down the corridor and down a small flight of stairs. Calen wasn’t plotting to fight clean. He would do whatever he needed to survive, as the most basic principles of nature dictated. If it meant ambushing those who had come to stake their claim on his life, then so be it. Why should he feel guilty about preserving his own life?

Slamming himself gently against the bark of the tree with his back to the enemy ship, Calen tried his best to keep his nervous breathing under control, the hunting knife clutched tightly in both hands and kept well-close to his body. As he had gotten closer, his doubt had grown. But he had to do this, he had no choice. Even if it was a losing battle, there was nothing else he could do but to survive. Anything to keep the council from fulfilling their goal of his elimination made Calen all that more convinced of his own loosely constructed conspiracy surrounding his situation. After all, it was giving him a reason to do this, wasn’t it? It made his deed all that more righteous and all the more morally sound for him to comprehend.

His heart began to pound in his chest like a drum as he finally twisted his heel to make a move, the knife swinging out from his closed arms, and his body accelerating with physical exertion as he tore from behind the tree at his convinced assassin with a roar of raw emotion behind his voice.

This was Calen’s choice.

She felt his presence the moment she stepped off the shuttle. That nagging that had previously been only in the back of her mind now struck her like an ancient warhammer, almost a throbbing sensation as she felt the boy approaching. This was no Ben Firestar, she knew; this one was too full of hate. Neither was it an Ithron, though, for she could tell this one had no training. It was pliable like Ben, and would need no convincing to succumb to the Dark Side. Rather, it might need to be brought back from its madness.

That was it. The creature, the individual, was mad. Not fully insane - yet - but to a point where rational thought had been replaced by illusion and...paranoia. Skygge smiled. It was interesting to see what one might become if left to themselves, by themselves, without company, without the aid of the Force. Without discipline. Skygge knew well how necessary discipline could be. A year on her own on Dathomir, having cut herself off (mostly) from the Force. It had been discipline that had saved her then, the rigors of a strict schedule so that she had little time for self-pity. Not that she would have indulged, of course, for she was there of her own volition. Not so with this one. She could feel that it was here against its will.

"Well," she said to herself, "this is going to be interesting." As a precaution, she slid her spare lightsaber under her cloak. It never hurt to be over-prepared, as she had discovered on Korriban. Quickly she shut the thought out of her mind; it wouldn't do to be remembering the horrors of that place. Not here, not now. That was for another time.

Skygge had landed near the center of the desolate city, with the ruins of towers and buildings rising up around her. Plenty of places for the individual to find her. And she wanted to be found, though it could not know this. It did not have the training to know this. Of course, as it wouldn't do to be found near the ship, she began to move away, slowly, cautiously, waiting for the inevitable attack.

Something else struck her as she moved. While this individual had no formal training - his manner was much too reckless for that - it was somehow searching for her through the Force. An interesting note, to be sure. How could one untrained do such a thing? Was it through inherent ability? Perhaps some offshoot of a sentient race? A mistake of evolution? Perhaps an apprentice whose Master had died here? No, the latter was not possible. Or was it?

Questions to ponder later, though. She smiled grimly. Questions were something she was quite familiar with, as they ran through her mind continuously. It seemed almost to be a plague rather than a benefit. Similar to the visions. While they were helpful, she wished she had a way to focus her mind, to shut them off when she wished.

It came, now, closing fast behind her. She stopped, as if confused about the direction she was going to take, and waited for it to catch her. It stood not twenty feet away, hiding, preparing some sort of attack. Skygge's eyes closed. She had to time this perfectly. It charged.

Now, she thought. Her feet left the ground as she executed a perfect backflip, over the head of the charging individual, allowing him - for a he it was - to pass under her harmlessly. The gleam of metal in his hand revealed his weapon to be a crude knife, easily destroyed by a simply sweep of a lightsaber. But she didn't want to destroy it, not yet. This was going to be fun.

Her weapon remained clipped to her belt as she landed on her toes, ready to move again in any direction. The boy turned swiftly, very swiftly, and roared, almost an animal-like sound. Skygge only smiled silently in return. The man attacked again, and this time she met him head-on, grabbing his knife hand and deflecting it, at the same time pulling him into a painful, but not crippling, elbow to his nose. He fell to the ground, bleeding from the nose, and Skygge stepped backwards.

"You might want to try a different tact next time," she said as he lay dazed for a moment. "This charging thing doesn't seem to be doing you much good."

That was all the time she had, for he struggled to his feet and advanced, a bit slower this time, a bit more cautious. He lunged...but she wasn't there. A quick sidestep had planted her left foot, and she spun away from the strike, turning her spin quickly into a kick to the back of the boy's neck, sending him sprawling on his face. "On second thought," she continued, "perhaps you should give up fighting altogether. It doesn't seem to be working out for you."

He rose yet again, his mind still not functioning properly...and then Skygge noticed it. The blindfold. Her eybrows narrowed, and she realized something very important. This boy is blind. He could only see her through the Force...so she made the fight more interesting. She made herself small, her very essence became but a pinprick, smaller than an atom. To sight, she was visible; to the Force, she was as nothing.

The boy stood, confused, wondering where his enemy might be. And Skygge spoke. "You are strong, but reckless. With training, you could become great; that is, if you don't kill me first. Or force me to kill you. Either way, that knife you have won't do you much good. Perhaps I can help you, show you a path that will let you take revenge on those who abandoned you here. But you'll have to put your weapon down first. Surrender to me. Drop the knife and kneel."

This was the moment of truth. If he did as she said, he would be recognizing one stronger than himself. He would be broken. Or he would feign surrender and strike at her after she once again revealed herself. Secretly, she hoped that is what he would do. That would make him a very worthy trainee.

Shaking with visible rage, Calen moved his head in varying directions and angles, as if trying to notice his now invisible opponent. What sort of black magic was this? It could only be magic for no technology was capable of avoiding sight from eyes like he had. He had been told as such and he had believed it when it was demonstrated numerous times in the past. Criminals on his planet had attempted to evade capture by Miraluka Law Enforcers and had failed for the same reasons. The Miraluka had a prized ability that only came to others with extensive amounts of training.

Calen was seething now. He couldn’t believe this, he wouldn’t. How could someone so lithe and young be as this woman was. Was she of such a race that the laws of gravity and physics not apply to her? Furthermore, that aura she had had. Calen had gotten an extra dose of it when she had looped him into submission and bloodied his nose. She was toying with him, forcing him into a position where he couldn’t fight back. To humiliate him? In front of who? For her own pleasure? A greater possibility. She seemed amused with his attempts to inflict a wound, any wound upon her.

She had not only managed to beat him physically at this point, she now stood to mock him, as well! The Force-sensitive was gritting his teeth now. Hate rose throughout his entire body. This was his fate, was it? Not only to be isolated and exiled from his home, from everything he had known and to be placed into a setting where survival was a question, not a goal. Now he was engaged in combat with some God awfully powerful being whom he could not appear to so much as scratch, much less overcome.

She was ordering him to disarm and kneel before her now, offering things like revenge against the Council. How could she know of that anyhow unless she was sent here by them?! It was all too intricate, all too easy to see through. She was toying with him. The promises of revenge were false and her presence meant nothing more than death for Calen should he disarm himself and kneel before this woman of obvious deception.

Gritting his teeth together he turned in the direction of the voice, his hand clenching the knife still raised slightly in his own defense. How could he hit that which he couldn’t see? His predicament was hopeless until she revealed herself to him again. That was when the idea struck him, causing a brief twitch in his facial visage along with it. The sudden realization of how dirty one could play when their life was essentially on the line was almost too sickening to swallow, yet it held its promises of success so solid that it almost could elicit a grin upon one’s face. Calen had to fight such obvious flaw in his presentation, lest his true intent be discovered.

He hesitated at first, mulling his words and behavior into a script in his mind. It was risky. She could kill him right on the spot if she wanted. Was it a question of satisfying her own ego to have duped him into such a helpless position before killing him? Either way, she had a surprise coming her way. The tables were about to turn in Calen’s favor and there was nothing she could do to see it coming from his own perspective.

“Don’t lie…” was the only thing he could work out of his trembling lips. The seconds he had wasted plotting his words? Gone with his nervous uncertainties.

Slowly, he knelt before her, his left leg laying against the gnarled cobble of stone that had once made up the ground of the once ornate city structure. His right arm was next to follow, its posture resting across his knee at the forearm as his head fell at an angle and his other hand settled against the ground, the grip on his knife visibly loosening for show.

All that he needed now was for her to get close enough, even visible, and he would spring his own brand of deception upon her without mercy. Making such a fool of his survival, was she? Such arrogance was to do her in soon enough.

Skygge, of course, read this boy like a book. Even if he had known how to hide his mind through the Force (which he did not), the tension in his muscles would have given him away. An interesting individual, Skygge thought as he knelt, and feisty. He's not giving in easily - I like that. She smiled as she stepped forward, preparing herself in the Force for what would come next.

As she reached to take the knife, he sprang. It came almost without warning, much quicker even than Skygge had anticipated. Still, he was not quick enough. Invisible fingers gripped his wrist and started to squeeze as Skygge took one step backwards. Calen was lifted off the ground by his wrist. He could feel the pressure increasing, causing intense pain. Much more and his wrist would break. Yet still he held the knife.

Tough boy, Skygge thought. The pressure increased, and there was an audible crack. The knife fell from the boy's fingers. Skygge released his wrist, and immediately the boy grabbed for the knife with his unbroken arm. Shaking her head, this time Skygge applied the Force directly to the boy's throat, picking him up off the ground and beginning to choke the life out of him.

She wouldn't kill him, but this would ensure that he listened to her. "You, boy," she said, "need to learn to control yourself when in the presence of your betters."

The boy's face was turning red from lack of air, so she tossed him ten feet backwards, causing him to land directly on his rear. He sat for a moment, stunned. Skygge continued. "As I am your better, you should listen now to what I have to say." The boy started to move, but a slight bit of pressure on his throat convinced him to stay put. He was acting more rationally now, at least. "Contrary to what you may think, I am not here to kill you. I don't know who you were expecting, but I am not her. Now, you've seen - or rather you've felt - the power that is in these hands. You have the potential to have that same power, and I can teach you. That is, as long as you stop trying to kill me."

The knife flew off the ground, the hilt smacking into Skygge's palm. "An interesting weapon," she commented. "Ancient, and useless against a Sith. You have heard the term before, I see. Yes, I am a Sith, an agent of the Dark Side, though unlike any other Sith you have ever or will ever see, unless it be an apprentice of mine. I can teach you the ways of the Force, give you power like you've never seen before, and teach you to control that power, to channel it into something useful. What say you?"

Calen’s arm throbbed, burned and everything in-between. He had never felt pain quite like this before and his eyes were burning with dammed tears just trying to deal with it. It hurt even more to move it. Every time he even gave a twitch of his fingers, any of them, pain wracked its way through the entire length of his arm, his nerves lighting up as if they had been doused in natural gas and set aflame.

He watched her discard the knife careless over her shoulder now. His only protection gone without a second thought, just like that, as if it didn’t even matter. This woman… her lips moved but the Miraluka found himself barely coherent to her speech at the moment as she lectured him, lording over his weakness and his defeat to her. She stated strongly that she hadn’t been sent here to kill him. He was hesitant, who wouldn’t be, how could he think otherwise after he had been abused so thoughtlessly? His arm lay broken and his spirit trodden to the same point.

”Power you’ve never seen before…”

Certain words she spoke began to burn their way like a branding iron on to his mind. She made promises of power, power like hers. Immediately, almost as if the thought had been waiting at the back of his mind for this moment, pictures began to reel through his mind concerning revenge, the most violent and painful thoughts of causing physical and mental trauma to those that had put him here.

She was staring at him now, his expression had gone blank and she could tell he was daydreaming as to what such power and progress could bring to a person. A smile curled at the corner of her mouth, ever so slightly. Was she satisfied with his contemplations, perhaps niggling urges to bow to her every whim and follow her instruction in whatever art she had promised would bring him power. Sith, she called it. He had dreamed of this, hoped for it even. But was she speaking the truth? It was easy enough to claim Sith with your mouth. Surely she had proven it though… then again, would a Sith, people of such horrors in history have hesitated to kill him like she had? Though, she had shown abnormal brutality as she literally toyed with him.

She says I have the potential to utilize the same power she has…

He was contemplating things further now as he moved his free hand, looking down at the center of his filthy, callused palm. Could these hands really do what she claimed they could? Could he really walk a path that she spoke such… promise about and actually grow upon its trail?

She is my better, I cannot deny that… Now can I deny what she promises, who am I to say it’s a lie? What’s more so beyond that… what do I even have to lose? I can go with her, possibly die or walk the path she speaks, or I can stay here and… die…

His mind was arguing with itself, balancing the issue in either hand as if to weigh the circumstances. She didn’t exactly seem anything less than sincere when she had stated she hadn’t been sent deliberately here to kill him. Though that aura, those claims of Sith… Sith were dark, a testament to lies, deceit, and desecration to all in their way. What more was it for someone like that to merely spit a lie for him to turn his back at the right moment? Then again, it wasn’t as if she needed to even wait. She full-well had the power to destroy him without so much as a closing of her fist, didn’t she? She certainly gave that impression, at least.

And with that, he had fallen forward, his forehead to the dirt, his eyes shut gently, and his beaten arm a painful hindrance and reminder as to what she could do to him had he not given in to this option if she so desired. Calen half-expected to feel the sharpened plunge of a knife through the rear of his skull as he did this.

“Teach me…. master…” he struggled to breathe out, nay force out of himself. It was unthinkable, someone like this his master… his…owner, basically. What had he gotten himself into, exactly?

Skygge smiled. It was for followers such as this that she had joined the Sith; followers that were able to be manipulated and molded, taught to think as she did, ignoring the boundries of the Light Side (and, if the truth were told, the Dark Side) and acting as the situation demanded. And that title - Master - it had a nice ring to it. Master Skygge. Lord Skygge? No, too pompous. Just Skygge will do. But I like that term - Master.

Having broken her new apprentice, it was now her task to train him. That in itself was a hard task, made all the harder because she was still training herself. Here, on Katarr, as she learned the planet was called, Ventress had landed. It had taken her some time to discern the meaning of the garden, but once the story of the planet was fixed in her mind, that came also.

From Calen, as the boy's name was, she learned that many years before, his race, the Miraluka, had inhabited this planet. During a great war between the Jedi and Sith (probably the war of the Sith Lords, she thought), the Jedi had gathered on Katarr for a council...but the Sith had followed them. One powerful Lord had arrived and literally devoured the planet. Some said it was out of spite, some said it was to feed a ravenous hunger. Whatever the cause, everything and everyone on the planet had died save one. That one had fled elsewhere, lost to history.

Skygge, of course, knew some of this history, but not much. The Exile had left some records of her beginnings and the founding of the Jedi, records that Skygge had found hidden in the Sith libraries. How they came to have them, she didn't know. But she did fill in some of the gaps left by Calen. The Sith Lord's name was Ravenger. The Miraluka was Visas Marr, a companion of the Exile on her journeys. And Ravenger was eventually destroyed by the Exile, Marr, and a Mandalorian named Canderous. But little more than that was known.

Still, it had helped her understand why Asajj stopped here, and what the purpose of the garden was. She had begun to heal the planet. It was her redemptive work; but she had not finished it. And it did not seem that she had died in this place. The current that Skygge had followed did not stop here. Soon, she would have to move on, as she felt more than ever that it was her destiny to find Asajj Ventress or discover her end.

What time she did not spend walking the gardens was consumed with her training of the Miraluka. Unlike some less-than-wise Sith, she didn't start by training him in the use of a lightsaber, or in the use of the Force, but rather in the philosophy of the nature of the Force. "You cannot learn to use the power unless you first understand the basics of where it comes from," she had told him. And so she expounded upon them.

She told him of the three major sides in the debate about the Force: The Light Side - the way of the Jedi - the Dark Side - the way of the Sith - and Potentium, a combination of the two. She told him of the history of the Sith and Jedi Orders, the changing natures of the two. She taught him Jedi and Sith philosophy, allowing him to question when he did not understand. Finally, after three weeks of intense dialogue and discussion, he was ready for her final teaching.

In the last week before they left the planet, Calen learned that Skygge herself was neither Jedi, nor Sith, nor follower of Potentium. She called herself a Sith, and was a part of their order, but, as he had learned, Sith was a mindset, not necessarily an order. And Skygge was all three. She was Jedi, she was Sith, she was Potentium. They came as need suited. She could manipulate and deceive like a Sith, control her passions like a Jedi, and use the Light and Dark side like a follower of Potentium. The Dark Side was stronger, but the Light was safer. And the best thing a Sith could do was use both.

With that still rattling around in his brain, she began to instruct him in the use of the Force. He was a quick learner, but he had to be; she might need his help later on. The first thing he learned was not a common trick, but it was necessary. She taught him the art of the small, as well as Force Stealth and other such tricks for keeping oneself concealed. Then, as they sped from the planet, she began instructing him in the more basic matters: Telekinesis, Precognition, the instincts that kept a Force user alive when a normal sentient would have died; how to heal himself or another and how to drain the very life of another and use their own life as his, and many other techniques. After only a few weeks, he was mastering the basics of the Force. Of course, practice - much practice - would be required, but as a Miraluka he already knew how to draw on the Force. The only problem was focusing it. And that, she knew, he would grasp quickly.

Calen ran his finger down the thin, wire-like metal that forged a cage around the small rodent housed inside, his eyes, or lack thereof, focused upon the creature as it moved about its simplistic routine of eating, running about fruitlessly in its exercise wheel, and of course, relieving itself wherever it felt like. Though he could not see in the common appreciation of the term from birth, he had found stability in the triumph’s of his race over the force in and of itself. Force Sight, his new master had called it. He had been told it wasn’t as common as one might think it to be on his planet. He had wondered why, only to find out that the Miraluka were, in-fact, a fairly rural race of beings in an otherwise out-of-the-way nestling of that particular portion of the galaxy. A portion known as the Expansion Region.

The mouse found its way over towards where Calen sat kneeled upon the floor, his left forearm propped across the top of the counter and supporting his chin as he looked upon it in his own special way. Though it possessed no particular aura, the mouse did have one. If he could explain it in color, the sightless boy might have suggested something akin to white. That was of course, if color was an expression he could find himself familiar with. No, the Miraluka were something else.

A race that dwelled on the perception of spiritual observation. When one heard that sentence, they might sort of begin to ponder what that meant. Of course, a lot of the less open-minded people might just laugh it off and otherwise insult you. More savory individuals might thirst upon that description and inquire further. Upon that, they would come to understand that rather than trying to reconstruct a view of the world itself, the Miraluka took on the eyes of the Force incarnate. That was to say, they were able to see as it did. Not through color and shade, but through aura and feeling.

Calen felt the tiny nose of the caged rodent brush upon against the tip of his finger, its bucked teeth scraping against his skin as it tried to gnaw upon him through the cage bars. The boy sighed and drew his hand away gently; not from pain, but for preparation. As he did so, his body came to a slow stop, his mind churning with words from Skygge during his training.

Calen took a deep breath, his lips parting ever so slightly as he opened his hand over the form of the rodent and began to focus. He couldn’t help but wonder If it could feel death’s cold embrace upon its skin as a red hue began to glow about the creature, enveloping it and gently bringing it into submission. The Miraluka had literally drawn the life from another being, only to bring it within union of his own. It was just a small sample of what he was capable of after his training with Skygge

He was not a master of any of these Force-fed methods by a long shot, but he was beginning to understand their function and use, as well as their creed. Association was a big part of the life of a Force-User and for Calen, it meant being able to walk that fine line between love and hate, control and complete freedom to do as he pleasred. That wasn’t all there was to it though, was there? There was so much more. Not only was he required to walk beteen the two sides, but he was also validated at times to become one and the same. Like his master, he too would be Sith, Jedi, and Potentium. A Jack-of-all-Trades and a master of none is what he would be.

It was what he wanted before his exile, wasn’t it? His freedom? Of course. And in some twisted sense of the definition, he had been granted that request, though not nearly as he had expected to have been.

He remained there for a moment, silent and still, terribly attentive to the corpse of the creature he had just stolen the essence from.

I wonder why… they always disappear…?

"Well done," said Skygge from where she stood in the doorway. As usual, she had been watching her pupil from a safe distance, hidden in the force so that he could not discern her presence. "However," she continued, "taking a life and absorbing it is not the full extent of what you need to learn; it is but the rudimentary basics. But now is not the time for more instruction in that field. Now I must teach you a skill you will need at our next destination."

Calen rose and faced his master, thoughts still somewhat on the mouse and its death. Skygge, understanding the direction in which his thoughts turned, brought the back of her hand swiftly across his face. The blow staggered the apprentice, but he remained on his feet, straightening once more before his master. "Keep your thoughts focused on the task at hand," she said, eyes narrowing slightly. "Do not let your thoughts take you so far from the present that you cannot accomplish what you must. You are a thinker; that is good. But now you must be a person of action."

Calen nodded once more, remaining silent. Skygge smiled slightly. "Good. Now, focus on yourself, on your innermost thoughts, on the presence within you. Feel the Force flowing all around you, through you." After a few moments, Skygge continued, "Now take that Force and wrap it around your body, drawing it close." Another pause. "Now, meld into that Force yourself. Make it and you one." As Calen began to do as she instructed, he began to disappear from sight. Skygge smiled wider. "Now, I know you can't see what you're doing, but now neither can anyone else. Learn to do this well, and you are invisible to the naked eye."

Skygge stepped around him. "Now, I know you have learned the basics of this already. But we will be adding something to it today. While the Force is melded with you, reach deeper within yourself and find that bit of the Force that indicates your presence. Do not release what you have around you, but now shrink that presence." Minutes passed, and soon Calen was invisible not only to sight but also to the Force.

"Well done," Skygge commented. "Now, I want you to remain in that state for the next fifteen minutes. You may move around, but do not lose focus."

With that, she turned on her heel and strode back to the cockpit. Their destination was not one on which Skygge had ever planned, but it was necessary for the next step in their journey.

Their journey. That was a new thought. Since leaving Xa Fel, this had been her quest alone; it appeared that such was not to be. It had become their journey, their quest, hers and Calen's. Whether the will of the Force, chance, or something else, for better or worse, they were together now.

As the ship came closer to its destination, Skygge reflected on the history of the planet they now approached. Onderon had the history of both a savage and civilized planet. Over four thousand years ago, it had been the home to a war between beast riders and colonists. Then came the Sith and Mandalorian Wars. Finally, during the Onderon Civil War, the Mandalorians (at one time the enemies of the people of Onderon) turned and fought for them against the Sith-supported rebels. The rebellion crushed, Onderon lived in relative peace until the Galactic Civil War. It played but a small part in the larger conflict, though.

In more recent history, Onderon's moon Dxun had been the site of a clash between Light and Dark. Skygge didn't know exactly what precipitated the conflict, or even how it ended; her studies had not allowed her time to read more thoroughly before she left. Perhaps when she returned, she would study the full history of the conflict. For now, though, she was content to meditate on the population itself.

Onderon was still ruled by monarchy, one of the few planets in the galaxy under such government; however, the people of Onderon had long established a parliamentary system to accompany the monarch. In essence, the current queen was little more than a figurehead, useful to take moral stands and guide the planet with her personal charisma, but ineffective in matters of policy. The people liked the system, though, and despite still being confined to three large, walled cities, they lived in contentment.

That was another issue with which Skygge and her apprentice would have to deal. The capital city, Iziz, had for centuries, even millenia, been the only city on the planet. It's massive walls protected the settlers from the aggressive and dangerous wildlife of Onderon; however, in the last two-hundred years, the population had significantly outgrown even Iziz, and two other cities had been built nearby. Outside the walls of these cities was almost certain death, unless one was a well-trained hunter or Jedi. Then one had a chance.

Of Onderon's moons, only two were possibly inhabitable, and only one was actually colonized. Dagri contained a small settlement, mostly engineers and scientists and their families, as the primary purpose was to staff the large R&D facility there. The other inhabitable moon, Dxun, was a jungle; only the strong survived more than a day with the beasts of that moon. Skygge knew that thousands of years ago, the Mandalorians had colonized it, and their way of life had helped them survive, but no Onderonian civilization existed there. Nevertheless, she would not be surprised to find descendants of either Beast Riders or Mandalorians, or both, still living in the ruins.

A rapid, high-pitched beeping startled her from her mental recitation of her knowledge of Onderon. They were on approach; two minutes to reverson to realspace. Skygge called back to the main cabin, alerting Calen to their approach, then strapped in for the switch. Soon, she would see the place where Asajj Ventress had stopped years ago, for a reason that Skygge could only begin to guess.