It was a three day journey through hyperspace from Katarr to Ilum. Skygge spent these days in meditation, focusing on drawing the healing currents of the Force that swirled around her into her body. Her injuries were bad, but not such that she would be permanently disabled. She still couldn’t raise her left arm, but the actual wounds were healing nicely.

It was in these three days that she felt more closely connected with the Force than ever before, and she used the connection to contemplate on the true nature of the Force. She felt adrift in a vast sea of blue and red – light, but not light. It was liquid, or something like it, but it was glowing. It swirled and flowed around her. Blue and red, red and blue.

But they did not mix. Whenever red and blue drifted together, they repelled one another. On the few occasions the red and blue light collided, a black spot was created, a hole that swallowed both red and blue, leaving only emptiness behind. Skygge observed all this with wonder.

Perhaps she had been wrong. Perhaps her dead mentors, the ones who had written the books on which she had based her theories and her teachings – perhaps they were wrong as well. Perhaps there was not only one Force. Perhaps there were two. Or perhaps there was really one Force, but it was separated into two mutually exclusive sides; an objective standard of light and dark.

Perhaps.

But that was the big question, and it was not one that she was prepared to answer, for when she looked into herself, she was confronted with reality. When she looked into herself, she saw the deepest, darkest black imaginable. It was emptiness. The more she healed, though, the more that black seemed to be tinted with the tiniest bit of blue.

Perhaps.

Perhaps Dolash could answer the question. She could not.

Dolash.

Master Dolash, as she knew him before he had retreated to Ilum for quiet contemplation, before she had departed the Jedi Temple for the journey that had brought her to this point, where the great question was laid at her feet. As she healed, she remembered . . .

A mission. A real mission, with a real Master.

Myneniel could barely contain her excitement. It had been over a year since she had left the Temple, even as an errand runner, and even longer since she had participated in an actual mission. Her status as a Masterless Padawan made her something of an oddity; she didn’t fit in anywhere. Had her Master died, it would have been different. As a Padawan whose Master had abandoned her, though . . .

Myneniel had never forgiven Master Horn for disappearing and leaving her Masterless. She’d been stuck at the Temple for so long, learning with the Younglings, and she was tired of it. She wanted to do something, to have some input, to make an impact on the galaxy. But without a Master, she could not advance, and until she got a new Master, she was stuck here.

But now Master Dolash had taken notice of her and asked her to accompany him and his pseudo-apprentice, Marek Zolar. It was an honor to train with one as accomplished as the Jedi Knight, and an honor Mynenial did not take lightly. She quickly packed her kit – not much, but all she had. Two spare sets of robes, her mother’s rancor tooth (for luck, of course, though she didn’t tell Leia that), and her lightsaber. She stared at the lengthened hilt for some time – a dual-phase blade, emerald and amethyst gems providing the color, a diamond to focus the energy. A well-constructed weapon. She had built it under Master Horn’s tutelage, and now as she stared at it, she recalled her former Master. Mynenial still felt fondness for him, but now that slight emotion was drowned out by the roaring of anger.

He had abandoned her, just as the Jedi were slowly abandoning the galaxy. Master Dolash was one of the few who was still active, and as the Empire and the Sith slowly spread their lies and hatred, the rest simply sat back and watched. She had resolved to give them this one last chance, here, with Dolash . . .

She woke and shook her head. Those were memories best not revisited now. They carried with them too much sorrow, too much pain. She had been hurt on that mission – not physically, but emotionally, mentally. It was then that she lost all faith in the Jedi.

Only Dolash’s final words lingered still in her mind. He knew, she thought. He knew then what I was planning, and he did not stop me. Perhaps he had a vision. Or perhaps . . .

Perhaps he simply recognized that I needed to discover things for myself. That I needed to make my own decision.

It was that thought that brought her here now. At the end of the mission, Dolash had turned to her and said, “Mynenial, when you find yourself, or if you find yourself lost and adrift, seek me out. I will always be there for you, to help you find your way.”



She must have fallen asleep again, for a soft beeping woke her. Her eyes opened, and she pulled herself to her feet and made her way to the cockpit. The trip was over; they had arrived at Ilum.

Her left arm was working again, marginally. She could lift it now, though gripping things was a bit of a problem. She hoped Dolash wasn’t looking for a fight.

As she reached the cockpit, the ship dropped out of hyperspace over what appeared to be nothing more than a ball of ice. Snow covered the planet, pole to pole. Skygge closed her eyes and reached out with the Force, tentatively, feeling for that familiar presence. “He’s here,” she said quietly. “Elana, take us down. Land there,” she added, pointing out coordinates for a landing site.

The apprentice obeyed, skillfully piloting the ship through the slight turbulence of re-entry. As the ship descended towards the landing site, Skygge could see a figure approaching. It stopped about eight meters from the ship as the vessel settled on its landing skids, apparently waiting for something, or someone.

The ramp lowered, and Skygge descended, right hand at the hilt of a temporary saber, and found herself face to face with the Master she was seeking.

“Welcome, Mynenial,” said Dolash, smiling slightly. “I’ve been expecting you.”

Ah, memories...

A time before snow, and isolation. Far away from mountain's contemplation. A past life, even. Reaching back to it brought up only dull and colourless memories, the shades of events that once where, the flat images of people who once bounded into life. There was still some knowledge to be gleaned from such memories, however. There were still some names. Among those names was Mynenial. Had it been there yesterday? No matter, it was here now, and so was he.

The figure before Mynenial was wrapped tightly in coats and cloaks, a blend of cloths, wools, and furs painstakingly repaired by hand. Only a narrow strip of his face was visible behind the wrappings, but he pulled this open to reveal a grey face and black eyes, the bare hint of welcoming smile poking up from behind a tightly-wrapped scarf.

"Your friends had best decide if they are coming with us or not. It is not far to the mountain, but night falls quickly and the cold is much too strong. A storm passed recently and we are not out of the cold months yet." He waved to the figures in the cockpit, encouraging them to come. "You needn't worry. We are very much alone out here, your ship will be untouched."

He said little else, and little more was asked. Together the small group crossed quickly from their landing site towards a pale white mountain. It rose sharply from the snowy plains, the anchor to a thin chain that extended far off towards the horizon. The crossing was frightfully cold, and this was within direct sunlight - were they passing under the shadow of the mountain, they might have had to turn back.

Nevertheless they did make it to an opening in the mountainside, a jagged mouth in the hard rock that spiralled quickly downwards and out of sight. Torches burned in stone brackets hewn from the living rock, casting dim light into the depths. Sheltered from the wind and the worst of the cold now, Dolash pulled back his hood entirely to address them. "The temple is far from warm but it will suffice, and I have the means to ensure you will not freeze. I am afraid I can offer only scant hospitality, but you are already likely tired enough from your journey. We shall wait here at the cave mouth for you to recover your strength.

"Until that time," said Dolash, as he settled on the ground. "You have found me. I am here for you. What do you wish to say?"

Without turning around, Skygge reached out to Elana as she sat in the cockpit, touching her mind with the Force. It’s alright, she said silently, her words streaking out in instant communication with her Apprentice. You can come out.

To her credit, Elana did not question her Master’s orders. She descended the ramp slowly, clearly not trusting the figure before Skygge. Her saber hilt had found its way to her hand, but it remained deactivated. The Apprentice’s blue eyes narrowed as she felt Dolash through the Force. This is a Jedi, Master, she sent back through their link. Are you sure he can be trusted? You are not yet fully recovered . . . . Her thought trailed off.

Skygge half-turned, bringing one eye to bear on the Apprentice. We came here to seek his help. When he has fulfilled my purpose, perhaps . . . but until then, he IS a Jedi. He made me a promise, long ago. This Jedi will keep his promise. I know it.

Elana still looked skeptical, but she remained silent. Satisfied her Apprentice would not do anything rash, Skygge turned back to Dolash. Inclining her head in a slight bow and wrapping her cloak a bit tighter around her shoulders, she said, “Lead on . . . Master.”



After what seemed like hours, they reached the cave. It had actually only been a little over an hour’s walk. Even with the short distance, Skygge could feel the physical exertion start to tear the barely-healed wounds open, especially the internal ones. She would need another healing trance tonight.

For now, though, she contented herself with resting. Sitting heavily, Skygge drew on the Force for strength, allowing its power to fill her aching body and soothe the pain. The cave was warm, or relatively so, compared to outside. Taking a moment to bask in the warmth, she could feel Elana doing the same. This was a strange warmth, though, not heat but . . . something else. Furrowing her brow, she sent out tendrils of the Force, probing the cracks and crevasses, trying to find its source and failing. As she closed her eyes to concentrate harder, though, she found something she did not expect.

Blue fluorescent gaseous light swirled around them, warm and soothing. The light, or gas, or whatever it was, flowed from the rocks, the dust, the ceiling; this place was thick with it, almost suffocatingly wonderful. It flowed around her and into her, filling that emptiness in her soul, warming her very heart. She fixed her mind on Elana and saw the girl’s anger fade under the healing flood.

Then she turned her focus towards Dolash and nearly gasped.

The light did not affect him or enter him so much as it was him, swirling in and through him as though he were a part of the very fabric of the light itself. He shone with it, every cell in his body seeming illuminated with the light. The light was so bright, yet so warm, it captivated her, stealing every iota of her attention, fully demonstrating the incredible contrast between his light and her dark soul.

She opened her eyes.

Dolash sat there, mundane, normal, staring at her as though he were waiting for something.

Enhancing her short-term memory, Skygge recalled his question. So . . . open-ended, it was. She pursed her lips, considering her answer.

If you find yourself lost . . .

Finally, she looked directly into his eyes, her green fire meeting his black serenity. “Master Dolash,” she said slowly, choosing every word, “you once told me that when I found myself lost, when I did not know what to do or where to turn, I could seek you out and you would help me find my way. Master, I am lost, and I need your help.” She paused, then added, “Much has happened to me since we were last together. You must know that I left the Jedi Order, not long after the end of the mission on which I accompanied you. I spent a year in seclusion on Dathomir, then I sought out the Sith. I unlearned, then relearned, everything I once knew. I questioned every teaching, of both sides. I became powerful, and yet . . . and yet now, now I find myself empty. I feel . . . I feel as though something inside me is dying. Yet this place has revived me.” She paused again, aware that she was now rambling. “I have lost myself, and I need help finding my way again. Can you help me?”

Dolash did not respond immediately. They sat in the cave mouth for a time, sheltered from the worst of the wind and cold and illuminated by a few flickering torches.

It had been a long time, certainly... Much had changed, but perhaps not much on Ilum. For his own part, Dolash looked quite the same as he ever had - although the age thresholds of his Azguardian heritage were not well-known. He kept looking out on to the snow, out across the distant drifts and plains that lay unbroken right out to the horizon. There was nothing out there but the ship Mynenial and her apprentice had arrived with.

At last, he said "It has been my experience that... yes, I may be able to help. The manner of that help, however, is something else to be discussed. For now I can see that you are unwell. You need rest, and we still have a ways to go. It will be much too cold to sleep safely on the surface tonight, but we will be warm enough inside the mountain. Come, take my hand."

With help from Dolash and Elana, Mynenial was able to walk without further strain. They followed the winding passage deep under the surface, moving from one distantly-spaced torch bracket to another. Crystals of varying shapes, colours, and sizes glittered in the dim light from cracks all along the walls and added an etheric beauty to the primitive stonework. It was not long before the spiral tunnel emerged into a vast underground chamber, this one of far finer make. What was visible in the low torchlight suggested vaunted columns holding up the roof and broad flagstones covering the floor.

"The meditation area is just over there," said Dolash, pointing further into the gloom as they made their way to ground level. He grabbed a torch from its bracket and used it to light their way. They were surrounded by darkness on three sides, an island of light away from the central crystal-veined hall. At last a small space of benches, columns, and bedding came into view and Dolash placed the torch in an empty bracket.

The Force was thick here. The whole complex must have once been a temple, and perhaps could be again. It was not choking though, instead, a sense of quiet and stillness pervaded. Like undisturbed water, free of ripples or tides. As they moved it parted, and it seemed to pool in the shadows around them. On a spiritual level, it lit up the darkness. One could hardly feel alone, even isolated under the mountain of an uninhabited world.

"I am afraid I do not recognize or do not know your companion," said Dolash, as they helped Mynenial on to a low stone bench. "I apologize, my lady. It was not my intention to ignore you, but I take it by your deference that you are a follower of Mynenial? You have come a long way, do you too wish to stay?"

Skygge, upon reaching the meditation chamber, dropped almost immediately into a healing trance. Closing her eyes, she saw the swirls of colour and gave herself up to them, joining the flow and allowing it to sweep through her pain-wracked body. The light was so bright it burned; as it entered her, it seared the blackness of her soul. She nearly cried out in pain, but it was a pain of a different sort. It wasn't the white fire of Leia's lightsaber, or the shocking blaze of Vicirus's lighting, but rather a warming heat, the rays of the sun on her exposed skin. Focusing, she controlled her pain as she allowed the currents to heal her external wounds even as they opened new ones.

In the realm of the mortal, Elana watched her Mistress fall into a trance, then, when she was sure Skygge was no longer able to hear what was said, she whirled on Dolash. "Fool!" she spat, her voice the embodiment of cold steel. "Jedi fool! I am no follower of some 'Mynenial.' I am Elana, servant of the Dark Side and apprentice of the Great Lady Skygge.

"And you may not remember me, but I know you, 'Great Master Dolash' of the Jedi Order!" Her words dripped with sarcasm, and she spewed fire with her lips. "I was ten when I first saw you, strutting around the Jedi Temple with your nose stuck in the air. The arrogance of the Jedi is...is..." She sputtered some, then continued.

"I was fifteen when you left the Jedi Temple. All of you, you and Leia and Zark Ekan - you all ignored me. I was as powerful as any of the students, and you left me behind, always. Never good enough for you.

"You arrogant fool. It was you and your fellow 'Masters' who showed me best the power of the Dark Side. I believed your Jedi lies then. I trusted you, until one day I discovered that my destiny was on a different path. I forge my own future now, and I command the power of the Dark Side." As she spoke, her body seemed to glow with a red-white rage. "I have crossed blades with Tyscio and Leia Korban and lived to tell of it. I have blocked lightsabers with my bare hands.

"Were it not for the command of my Mistress, I would strike you down where you stand, Jedi. You deserve no less. For now, I will tolerate your presence, until my Master commands me otherwise. But," her eyes narrowed, and the glare that came from them could have cut durasteel, "stay away from me, or you will regret the very day you were born."

With that, she spun and stalked to the other side of the chamber. Falling into a cross-legged sitting position, she remained wide awake, watching Dolash's every move, the hatred evident in her eyes.

The three figures sat in all-consuming silence. Hate turns moments into hours, but for a spirit at rest time could slip away under the mountain and in this state it did for Skygge, Dolash, and Elana.

Night fell in the world above although that meant little for the world below. When at last all three beings drifted close to the surface of consciousness again Dolash opened an eye to glance about the room. Elana still shot him venemous glances, as though waiting through each hour for the opportunity to convey her hostility with a glance. Skygge - no, Mynenial - on the other hand appeared simply weary. Meditation had taken the edge off of her suffering, but to look at her now spoke of very deep wounds left untended.

"I believe you need true sleep, not just meditation," said Dolash. "The spirit can only will what the body allows. Come, there is an old dormitory hidden in the cave wall. It shall allow you greater rest."

Catching the look of suspiscion from Mynenial's apprentice, Dolash added "You may stay on guard to protect your mistress, should you choose. I shall not intrude upon her private repose." Reaching slowly towards his belt, Dolash removed a lightsaber hooked there and placed it slowly on the ground. "This is yours to hold for the duration of your stay."

Dolash rose and helped his weakened guest to her feet. He pointed deeper into the darkness and shadows seemed to part. The shape of a tunnel mouth appeared along a wall, lit by a strange green glow. "You will find torches to light your way and bedding to make yourself comfortable. I am afraid there is no easy water, so if you thirst you will have to come out on to the mountainside - this I do not reccomend. Should you need me or if you are sufficiently rested to seek me out, I shall be in the central chamber in plain sight, meditating."

The two Sith were sent on their way, while the fur-wrapped Azguardian headed back to the central chamber. There in a circle of torchlight he sat, a beacon of warm Force energy drifting around him. Faint eddies and swirls in that mystical dimension were visible to those with Force training and sensitivity, but they didn't realize into any actual shapes.

The wounded Sith caught a glimpse of Elana reaching for the lightsaber which Dolash had daintily tossed away. Skygge knew it was a gamble for Dolash, but Elana was not one to disobey her master. Upon gaining possession of the discarded lightsaber, she trotted over to her master whom was already making her way into the cave which had only just been made visible.

"Master, do you need assistance?" Elena whispered as she stepped to Skygge's side. She tenderly placed both her hands on her good arm, reassuring her merely with her presence.

Skygge shook her head slowly, "No, I can manage."

Despite this, Elana's hands remained as a precaution. Skygge barely noticed the torches that lined the cave walls on both of her sides. Instead, her mind seemed to distance itself, seemingly still stuck in its limbo of blue and red. The atmosphere of the cave that Dolash seemed to manifest did serve to alleviate the turmoil that she was forced to endure through thus far.

Still though, the metaphorical was now much more tangible as it seemed to torment her endlessly. Blue and red, dancing and weaving within and without her vision, leaving traces, the patterns they made resembling fractals. It was almost like a hypnagogic hallucination, effective whilst one is between the realm of awake and asleep. The visuals blinded her to a degree, making focusing a near impossible task. She wanted to know more about this state, yet exhaustion was consuming her. Instead, laziness pervaded, ensuring no further efforts of self-analyzation.

Such activity could be detrimental for the mind when sustained too often, leading to a state of dissociation. This was especially possible after traumatic experiences, something Skygge was not alien to as of late. Her grogginess concerned Elena who continued to assist her master. The two made it through the corridor the tunnel served as into the chamber where cots were erected along the floor. Multiple smaller chambers seemed to open up around the larger chamber as well. Within each was a cot risen from the floor, just like the ones in the main chamber.

Skygge made her way into the one that opened up to their right. She stood next to the bed for a few seconds, as if confused as how to approach laying down. Finally, she rested her hands down onto the cot and used them to support the rest of her body as it made its way onto the rickety bed as well. Elana grabbed the blanket from under her master and gentle rested it upon her, tucking it in around the idle body.

The feeling of comfort was welcomed as Skygge found herself immediately enveloped by the abyssal nothingness of slumber. Upon recognizing that she was unconscious, Elana made her way to the entrance of their "sub-chamber". She sat down, her legs extending across the opening with her back against the wall. She retrieved her lightsaber from her belt and began tossing it in her hand, her eyes only ever leaving the hypnotizing motion to check her master. She was in a deep rest, her first experience of peace in a long time.

Fourteen hours later, Skygge woke refreshed, as she had not been...well, in as long as she could remember. Maybe since she had left the Jedi. Her wounds hurt still, but it was the slwo, throbbing pain of a healing injury rather than the searing sharpness of the last few days that accompanied her now.

When she woke, all was still around her, in both the physical world and in the Force. No, not still. That was the wrong word for it. Stasis was perhaps a better way of putting it. Unchanging. She could feel Elana nearby, in the adjoining chamber, her anger, though restrained, burning almost white-hot. Nearby also was Dolash, serene and calm, a soft blue glow in the Force. Neither had changed since the previous day.

Skygge sighed. She didn't need the Force to tell her that these two could not co-exist for long as they were. One would have to bend or break to avoid a conflict, and Skygge suspected it would not be Dolash. And when - not if - Elana snapped, either she or Dolash would die. Skygge knew with a near-certainty that it would not be the Jedi Master who fell in that conflict. Regardless, the death of either would not serve her purposes. Either death would be both needless and fruitless. Skygge would have to calm her student, and soon.

But now was not the time for that. Now, she needed to talk to the Jedi Master.



She found him several chambers away, apparently meditating. His back was to the entrance, showing either idiocy or trust, or perhaps such a mastery of the Force that he was unconcerned with the threat she and Elana posed. Probably the latter, Skygge decided. His pose was peaceful, calm. Skygge envied him that.

Even as she gazed on him, she felt the white anger of her companion flare. Elana had followed her from her chambers, a scowl fixed on her face, and now Skygge could feel the force of her student's rage slamming against the barriers she had erected to contain it. Much more of this, and the barriers might break. Apparently Elana and Dolash had a history. Or perhaps it was Elana and the Jedi in general.

Skygge turned her head slightly and glanced at the woman beside her. A shake of her head was all it took for Elana to once again bottle the flame of her rage inside. It would consume her eventually, Skygge knew, like it had hundreds of others before her. But for now, she was grateful it was contained.

She turned her gaze back to the Jedi Master who sat before her, still silent, not even turning his head to acknowledge her presence. She blinked once, then opened her mouth...

"Mynenial, Elana," Dolash said, still facing away from them. "Please, come in, and welcome."

Skygge shook her head. Was he aware enough to sense when she was about to speak? Or had it simply been coincidence?

She accepted his invitation with a nod, knowing that he would sense it though he could not see it, and strode into the room. No, strode was too strong a word. She wasn't up to striding yet. Ambled might suit better. She knelt beside him. Elana, on the other hand, remained in the doorway, lightsaber in her hand, thumb on the activation panel. She simply watched.

Neither Dolash nor Skygge spoke for some time. Closing her eyes, Skygge recalled her old Jedi training regarding meditation. Empty yourself, the Masters had instructed. It had been some time since she had done that. But she did now, rustily, and with the emptying came a greater peace than she had yet known in that place.

Finally, she broke the silence. "Master Dolash, I am no longer Mynenial. The Jedi Apprentice you knew died years ago. But neither, I think, can I claim my Sith title, for I think that person died on Capricia. So I ask that you call me by the name I took when I left the Jedi and before I became a Sith. Call me Myra."

Dolash rolled the name around in his mind for a moment before replying. "Myra," he said finally. "Yes, that will do. It suits you."

Myra bowed, as best she could from her seated position. "No need for that," Dolash continued. "I may have more knowledge of the Force than you, but that does not make me worthy of a bow. Your Sith masters may have required obeisance; I do not."

Before Elana could speak, Myra held up a hand to forestall the angry tirade she knew would come. "Apprentice," she said, softly, yet in a voice cold as the planet's surface, "perhaps you should check on the ship." Her tone left no room for argument, and the younger woman stormed from the chamber.

The two occupants eyed one another for a time, neither speaking. When the silence was finally broken, it was Myra who spoke. "Master Dolash, as I said last night, I need to find myself again."

Dolash nodded. "Yes, you do."

Silence descended again, stretching past the point of discomfort. "Master Dolash," Myra began again, "you said you could help me."

Dolash nodded again. "Yes. I did."

More silence. After what seemed an eternity, Myra nodded. "But I have to begin, don't I?" Dolash did not respond. "The darkness is consuming me, Master. Despite my attempts to avoid its taint, I think I have drawn too deeply upon it. I am drowning in a sea of black, and I can no longer keep my head up. I fear if I do not alter my course, I will be lost forever."

Instead of responding, Dolash simply gazed at her and blinked.

Myra closed her eyes. The colors were there, swirling, just beyond the realm of the mortal world. "I can see it, Master. The Force, all around, flowing through everything, in everything. Light and Dark, twisted together."

Another silence stretched.

"There is something else, though," she continued after a time. "When these tendils of light and dark touch, it seems as though a hole of pure blackness is created. It seems as though the Force itself dies then. And I fear I am the cause."

Finally, the Jedi Master spoke. "I see it too, Myra. And I can most certainly help."

Standing, he motioned for her to join him. He strode meaningfully for the exit, and Myra, though still weak, followed. He spoke as they walked. "You are both right and wrong, young one. While you have fed on the darkness, you have not been consumed by it. I would hear your story since last we met; I believe it will be most enlightening. But this much I know; you have at least once faced a choice, a crossroads. You had before you the option of fully embracing evil, of embracing the path of pain and suffering and anger, and you turned away from it." He glanced at her and must have seen the confirmation in her face, for he continued, "You have since then been on a search, though you do not know for what. Your journey here was the apex of this search, and I believe it is here that you will find the answer to the questions that you did not know you were asking."

As they entered the next chamber, Skygge shivered involuntarily; the temperature seemed to drop dramatically. Dolash continued as though nothing had changed. "Myra, I will not attempt to convince you to follow only the light path. Your future is clouded, and I cannot be sure that the light is to be your destiny. But I can say this; until you learn to balance yourself, until you understand your own mind, until you find a way to become who you are meant to be, the darkness that you see and feel will continue to grow until you, or at least that part of you that can touch the Force, are completely consumed."

Elana thumbed the activation switch on her lightsaber and reflected as the red glow lit the small rocky chamber. She thumbed the switch again, letting the darkness return. On. Off. Light. Dark. Red. Black. Over and over and over and over.

The Lady Skygge had come here after Capricia. Here, to Ilum. To seek out this Jedi Master. Elana had come to accept that as the Dark Mistress's purpose. It had not been to kill him. Elana was certain that in her full strength, the Lady could have fileted him nicely, but even had she wanted to, Lady Skygge's weakened condition prevented her even challenging the man. Yet she seemed to...listen to him. He was instructing her, teaching her, binding her. "The Force shall free me," she muttered angrily.

The Force free her. Heh. That had been one of her first lessons on Xa Fel. Peace is a lie. Passion leading to strength, strength to power, power to victory, victory to broken chains, and freedom through the Force. But the Lady Skygge was binding herself once again to the chains of a Jedi. Elana had admired her, had sought her out when the Jedi left their Temple. Had joined the Sith because of her example. And some Sith she was turning out to be.

And now that speech to the Jedi about her name. Not a Sith anymore? One could not just quit being a Sith. Once you touched the Dark Side, that power, that sweet rush, that life, how could you just give it up? No, Lady Skygge must be playing a deeper game here. Or was she?

Then, as the blade lit the room again, Elana had a flash of realization. This was a test! A test for her, the greatest of the Lady Skygge's apprentices. A test of her strength, a test of her will to defy her Master. Capricia had been a test as well, between her and Telarni, and she had come out ahead. She had proven the stronger, both surviving and getting her Mistress to safety. This must be another test now, one that would show her Mistress she was ready for the title of Sith Knight. To kill this Jedi Master - that would be her final trial.

Standing quickly, she grinned as she activated the lightsaber one more time and strode from the chamber.



Myra walked in silence for a time following Dolash's pronouncement. What he said made sense. A lot of sense. Yet something inside her did not want to admit that she was not in control. That the darkness could consume her. Yes, she had stated as much, but inside, she had not admitted it. Not to herself.

But had she ever really been in control? Or had that simply been a farce? A lie, like the lies of the Jedi? Was this the lie of the Sith? That one could truly control the darkness?

Or were the Jedi right all along?

It was a great deal for her tired brain to contemplate. She had pondered the meaning of being Sith before, but never had it been so personal, or so urgent. And despite the sleep, she still needed rest.

"Master Dolash, I-" she began, but cut off as Elana suddenly appeared in the doorway, lightsaber burning crimson in her hand.

"You," she intoned softly, glaring fire at Dolash. "You, Jedi, are going to meet your end now."

Myra stepped forward, but she was forestalled by a raised hand from Dolash. "This confrontation would come sooner or later, Myra. I was expecting it sooner."

Hands empty, Dolash faced the enraged apprentice. "If you wish to strike me down, Elana, then do so. Come."

The apprentice moved, a Force-aided leap carrying her across the intervening space in the blink of an eye. Her lightsaber hissed down...on empty air. Dolash was not there.

"You will have to do better than that, Elana," he said from a few feet away, hand still empty, a slight grin playing at the corners of his mouth.

Elana rushed him again, blade moving in an aggressive pattern of attacks. None of them landed. Dolash did not engage; he simply was not where the blade slashed. He moved right, left, and backwards just enough to avoid being eviscerated or impaled. Elana's frustration built, slowly at first, then more rapidly as she failed to even score his robes, until she finally burst out, "Fight me, you witless nerf-brain!"

Dolash, smiling fully now, bowed to her. "Thank you, Elana, for the engaging dialogue. But it would work much better if we were equally armed, don't you think?" With a flick of his hand, he sent her lightsaber spinning away, the blade winking out as the hilt clattered to the ground on the other side of the chamber. "I have no desire to fight you, Elana, or to harm your mistress. She is listening to me; you should as well."

Elana stared in shock at her hand for a moment, then, surprisingly, turned and dropped to her knees before Myra. "Mistress, I have failed you. I have failed as a Sith. Do as you will to me. Punish me as I deserve."

Myra heard Dolash's sharp intake of breath, but he held his tongue. It was Myra's choice; he would not interfere. Myra closed her eyes and sighed. "You have not failed me, Elana, for I did not assign you a task. If you have a failing it is that you were trying too hard to please me. Do not presume to know my plans, Elana. Do not act without authority again."

Elana's face registered surprise, which she quickly masked. "Yes, Mistress," she said. Myra motioned for her to leave, and the apprentice obeyed, leaving her lightsaber where it had fallen.

When Elana was gone, Dolash nodded to Myra. "That was well-handled," he said. "You allow your apprentice to learn from her mistakes. More Jedi than Sith, I think," he finished with a grin.

Myra sighed, then sank to the ground. "I fear I am still weak, Master," she said. "I will consider your words, and your actions in allowing my apprentice to live today. But I must rest."

Dolash nodded and departed, leaving Myra to her meditations. She will come around, he thought. She must. It may be that the future of the galaxy rests on that one's shoulders.