Fear, Ithron? Surrender? What planet do you live on? Not a kriffing chance.

As the torches came flying towards him, propelled by the energies of the Force, Ithron spun to face them. With a guttural cry, he slashed the first in half with his lightsabre. He ducked and the second one flew harmlessly over his head, smashing itself on the far wall.

Looking back, he saw that Mira had fled. The urge to give chase surged in his heart, but then faded. He knew he had won and she had lost - and he knew that she knew it. The victor had no reason to restart the fight: That was the job of the challenger.

For a brief moment, though, Ithron regretting not destroying Mira then and there. It worried him that something had held him back - fate perhaps? The will of the Force? His own inability to kill? His desire to humiliate his opponent? He didn't know.

Still, he mused. Fleeing the field is as much of a defeat as anything.

Victory, hissed the darkness, and Ithron smiled. In the course of the duel, he had learned more about himself and his own abilities than he had ever thought it possible to know.

"One day, Mira...." he murmured into the shadows. "One day, you'll not be able to run from the fight..."

Walking slowly now, as though in a trance, Ithron came back to himself and gradually became aware of the pain in his limbs from pushing them to the limits of their endurance and beyond. He felt the cuts, burns and bruises on his body and he walked to one of the walls, putting his hand on it to support him. He knew he would be paying the price for the Force power he had used for days to come.

Feeling his way round the room, he put out the final two torches that remained on the walls by cupping his hands over them. Darkness descended into the duelling arena and Ithron staggered along the same route as Mira through the stone archway.

Feeling cold now, and weary beyond his own belief, he staggered into the cold night air. Looking around, he saw no signs of Mira. As he walked, shivering, towards the Temple Complex containing his chamber, the weariness overcame him at last. He collapsed into unconsciousness on the ground.

Victory, Ithron. But at what cost?

Mira had fled to her chambers, hoping Ithron would not pursue her. In the state in which he had ended the fight, it would not have been beyond him to chase down his vanquished challenger and end her existance permanently, so she kept her Force senses alert. But he did not follow. Nevertheless, she did not relax until she reached her quarters.

Ithron had defeated her, yes. He had drawn on a resevoir of energy that she had only begun to access. Yet she had also seen it change him, and not for the better. Such all-consuming darkness could not be good even for the Sith. While the darkness made one powerful, the Jedi were correct in their assessment that it corrupted a person when one surrendered oneself fully to it. Perhaps what was needed, rather, was a way to control the darkness and turn it to one's own purposes.

Hadn't she heard about a Sith who had done just that? She remembered reading about him in the archives. What was his name? Vectivus. That was it. He was able to control the darkness without surrendering fully to it. Perhaps she should research him a bit more. He seemed like the type she wanted to follow.

Then again, perhaps she should ask one of the Masters. Her ego now broken, it was not beyond her to ask for guidance. Maybe later she would seek out Master Jas or Perrin Descartes and inquire about the balance of control as it related to the Dark Side. For now, though, she would avoid Ithron, afraid that his Darkness might corrupt her. The Sith Code taught that passion was to be desired rather than serenity, yes, but was passion to be gained at such a cost? Had Ithron gone too far in his passion? Or was Mira still too serene, too much a Jedi? In her mind, only time would tell.


End