Private A Spark in The Dark

[Varin Mortifer]

VARIN MORTIFER

Equipment: Durum Mantle | Black Blade of Chandrila | Eye of The Dragon | Heavy Sith Mace | Cross Guard Broadsaber

His first instinct was to help her gather up the dishes, to help with the mess he had helped create. But Seren had decided his help was not needed, at least not in his current state.

He didn't blame her for wanting to avoid lectures from medical staff, even if he did feel like they were babying him. He also knew she wanted his recovery to go as quickly as possible, that meant for him to take things easily.

It was difficult for him.

But he complied.

As she cleaned up, Varin gently placed his hand on Sinew's head, giving her a soft scratch behind her ears. A purr rumbled through her chest as he did so and before he knew it, Seren was ready for him.

He slowly stood up, the soft glow of the hearth casting lazy shadows along the walls while its warmth still accompanied them. He followed her to the garden they had built together, the same garden she successfully maintained and the very same garden that housed the Floralite Rose.

He stood at her side, thinking of all the time and energy she sacrificed for the small crystalline plant. The connection that was created from it, he could feel it. Doubt that had once almost swallowed her up, replaced with relief.

His voice came quietly as if he were trying to maintain the sense of calm in the moment as best as he could.

“I sometimes would speak to my plants. They do develop bonds with you, they get to know you even.”

His hand gently placed over her upper back.

“This garden is evidence of great care from a great caretaker.”

He offered her a small soft smile. But deep down inside, he was proud of her and how it all turned out. Proud that she kept up with it and proud at how she was able to add to it.

He waited patiently and quietly for her.

Waiting for her song.

Seren Gwyn​

 

[Seren Gwyn]

The compliment settled warmly inside her, not because she needed the praise, but simply because it came from him. Seren looked out across the garden, her gaze drifting between the rows of climbing vines, the fragrant herbs, and finally the amber Floralite blooming quietly among them. The firelight from deeper within the cave mixed with the softer illumination surrounding the flower, painting the crystalline petals in delicate shades of gold and honey.

"I think they do," she said softly, a small smile touching her lips despite the faint trace of embarrassment in her voice. "Or perhaps we simply leave enough of ourselves behind that they learn our presence. Either way, I suspect the garden has heard more of my thoughts than most people."

She grew quiet then, leaving only the distant crackle of the hearth, the soft rustle of leaves stirred by the cavern's natural currents, and the steady, comforting warmth of Varin's hand resting against her upper back. When she finally broke the silence, she spoke not to him, but directly to the garden—to the flower, and to something small and growing. Her voice emerged low and warm, carrying a melody that felt less like a performance and more like a gentle conversation. It was a lullaby, full of patience, hope, and the kind of unconditional love one might offer a sleeping child.


"Little light beneath the leaves,
Dream your dreams and softly grow.
Roots below and stars above,
Guide you where you're meant to go.

When the storms come, do not fear,
Rain will pass, and skies will clear.
Day by day and year by year,
Those who love you will stay near.

Little heart, so brave and bright,
Hold your warmth against the cold.
There is wonder yet to find,
There are stories yet untold.

Rest beneath the gentle sky,
Grow in ways you cannot see.
And when at last you bloom someday,
Become exactly who you'll be."


The final notes lingered softly in the air before fading into a peaceful silence. Seren remained perfectly still, not looking back at him right away. Instead, her eyes rested on the Floralite just as they had countless evenings before, only now the old uncertainty was entirely gone from her expression, replaced by a deep warmth and quiet contentment.

Varin Mortifer

 

[Varin Mortifer]

VARIN MORTIFER

Equipment: Durum Mantle | Black Blade of Chandrila | Eye of The Dragon | Heavy Sith Mace | Cross Guard Broadsaber

The soft notes of her lullaby reached him, the whole time he did not speak. He simply listened and enjoyed the moment.

She was not just singing to them, but she was singing for them. Plants fed off their caretakers just as they fed off nourishment, it wasn't too different from that. Plants had been known to fail even in ideal conditions simply because the caretaker did not care for them on a personal level.

Seren had shown him she cared for them deeply, as an extension of herself.

When her final note faded he simply watched the plants, his hand gently falling to her shoulder with a light squeeze.

“You have a beautiful voice.”

He spoke quietly as if sheer volume would shatter the very moment she shared with him.

He thought back on her lyrics. Guidance, nurturing and growth all explained in such a way that it held more volume to him than if he had read it in a novel.

“Do you sing this same song every time?”

He offered her a soft smile.

“The meaning is…it has a lot.”

He couldn't explain why but hearing her sing such a song had stunned him. It wasn't the first time he heard her sing, but it was the first time lyrics like this had been spoken from her to nurture not only a garden but the Floralite Rose as well. And it grew…

Seren Gwyn​

 

[Seren Gwyn]

Seren remained quietly beside him after the final note faded, her gaze still resting on the garden rather than turning immediately toward him. The leaves shifted softly in the cavern's gentle currents, and somewhere deeper within the cave, the hearth crackled faintly, its warmth reaching them even here. His compliment drew the slightest hint of color to her cheeks. Not much. Just enough. Praise for her singing had always felt more personal than most compliments. "Thank you." The words came softly.

When he asked whether she always sang the same song, a small smile touched her lips as she shook her head. "Not always the same one." Her eyes drifted toward the Floralite. "Sometimes I sang old songs I remembered from Alderaan. Sometimes, pieces of melodies I heard elsewhere. Sometimes songs that did not really exist until I started singing them." A quiet breath of amusement escaped her. "And occasionally I suspect I was simply talking to the flower while pretending it was music."

The smile lingered for a moment before softening into something more thoughtful. "The songs changed depending on what it needed." Her fingers folded loosely together in front of her. "When it first began growing, they were hopeful. When it struggled, they became encouraging. When I thought it might fail..." She paused briefly. "Those were different." There was no sadness in the admission now. Only honesty. The flower had survived. They had survived. The difficult parts belonged to the past.

Her gaze finally shifted toward him. "I think that is why this one stayed with me." Her eyes returned to the amber blossom. "It was never really about teaching the flower how to grow." The smile that followed was small, warm, and entirely genuine. "It was a reminder that growth is not something you can force. You nurture it. You protect it. You keep showing up even when nothing seems to be changing."

The amber petals caught the light as though responding to the observation. Seren watched them for a moment before speaking again. "Eventually, if you are patient enough, one day you realize it has been growing the entire time." Her voice was quiet, but there was conviction in it now. Not simply because the Floralite had bloomed, but because she had lived the lesson herself. Some things required faith before they offered proof. Some things simply needed someone willing to stay, to care, and to believe long enough for them to become what they were meant to be.

Varin Mortifer

 

[Varin Mortifer]

VARIN MORTIFER

Equipment: Durum Mantle | Black Blade of Chandrila | Eye of The Dragon | Heavy Sith Mace | Cross Guard Broadsaber

He listened to her speak in silence. Every bit of information she shared with him he could relate to, down to the letter.

When she finished speaking he finally spoke.

“Patience.”

The word hung into the air with weight.

“Is one of the most difficult parts of growth. More difficult than the action or the build up. It is also the number one killer of growth when one becomes impatient.”

He stood quietly digesting what he had just said.

“Sometimes we do not even know that until it is said aloud.”

A small chuckle left him.

“And it is normal to feel the pressure, to feel cracks in the foundation when patience is tested. When growth slows to a near halt.”

He looked back at her.

“And then you realise, when it is all said and done, that growth is always growth, so long as it does not stop. No matter how slow it is.”

He looked back at the floralite.

“I know both my mother and Father felt that pressure when first creating their roses.”

His hand gently fell into hers, his fingers loosely wrapping around hers.

“Have you ever been tested to this degree beforehand?”

Seren Gwyn​

 

[Seren Gwyn]

Seren considered the question for several moments before answering. The garden remained quiet around them, the amber Floralite catching the light while the rest of the plants swayed gently in the cavern's natural currents. Her fingers remained intertwined with his, drawing a quiet comfort from the simple contact while she reflected on the answer. When she finally spoke, her voice was soft and thoughtful. "Not like this." The admission came easily. Honestly. "Not where something depended so completely on patience."

Her gaze lingered on the flower for a moment longer before drifting away. "There were other tests," she continued after a pause. "Different ones." The words carried no bitterness, only reflection. "The Jedi tested my convictions more than my patience. There were years where I questioned whether the path I was walking still belonged to me, or whether I was simply continuing because I had already invested so much of myself into it." Her thumb shifted lightly against the back of his hand as she spoke, remembering those long years of uncertainty.

"Leaving was not sudden. People often imagine it that way. A dramatic decision. One moment of clarity." A faint smile appeared. "It was actually much slower than that. More like watching cracks form in a foundation and realizing they had been there for years." Her eyes settled briefly on the Floralite. "Not unlike the cracks that form in the Floralite when something is wrong. Small at first. Easy to ignore. Until eventually you cannot pretend they are not there."

Her gaze returned to the amber blossom, studying the flower that had survived despite all the moments she had feared it would not. "I suppose there are similarities now that I think about it." The realization seemed to surprise her slightly. "Both required me to continue forward without knowing whether the effort would ultimately amount to anything. Both required faith when evidence was scarce. Both demanded that I keep going despite uncertainty, despite doubt, despite every temptation to simply stop trying."

Her eyes finally lifted back to his. Warm. Steady. Certain. "The difference is that when I left the Jedi, I was walking away from something." A small smile touched her lips as her gaze drifted briefly to the flower once more. "When I grew the Floralite, I was growing toward something instead."

Varin Mortifer

 

[Varin Mortifer]

VARIN MORTIFER

Equipment: Durum Mantle | Black Blade of Chandrila | Eye of The Dragon | Heavy Sith Mace | Cross Guard Broadsaber

“Dicisions such as those to leave something are hardly instant.”

He spoke softly, the warmth of the room seeming to grow between them as he took his time to think on his response.

“There are some exceptions, yes, but generally when someone has been in an organization for some amount of time, they need convincing. They need direction.”

He looked her in the eyes.

“Some have to find their direction.”

He smiled at her, the feeling of her fingers over his hand not lost on him.

“While others, their direction comes to them.”

He looked at their hands then back to the Floralite.

“Both directions require faith in chance, and risk. Sometimes though, it does not play out well.”

Speaking from personal experiences when he had crashed and burned so many times before he became the Sith that he was now. And the long trail yet to come to continue further development.

“Both of our journeys have been filled with twists, turns and blockages. Yet, here we are now. Alive and stronger from our experiences.”

His gaze remained on the Floralite for a moment longer in silence.

“The Floralite is no different. It will have its trials, it will have its cracks, but eventually those cracks become the scars of evidence that it had stood the test of time itself.”

He looked back at her.

“That those who forged and grew it together, had stood the test of time itself.”

Seren Gwyn​