Private A touch of destiny

[Adron Malvern]

DAUGHTER​

Tags: Acantha Malvern ​

Our way is the path of blood and destiny. The search for the final element and the key to life eternal. - Excerpt taken from an ancient Sith tome
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The Sith Lord closed the book that was in his hands without saying a word. He found the final line of the book to be so much more amusing than it actually was informative. Still, the tome had done its job and done it well.

Things such as Sith Alchemy could not be dabbled in without the greatest of care. That was why Adron decided against performing such rituals on his homeworld of Illyria. He had seen time and time before where a foolhardy Sith believed they were the ultimate master of life and death, the result being a hellish cataclysm that few worlds were ever lucky enough to return for. That would never be his homeworld of Illyria. So he kept his experiments to the moon, far from the danger of harming that which he had created. The temple on Illyria's moon was simple, not nearly as grandiose as the Temple of the Silma or those historically used by the Sith. It was a large ziggurat with smooth steps of stone leading from the base of the temple to the peak.

At the top of the temple the winds flowed steadily. The landscape surrounding the Illyrian King was grim, bleak even. There were several hundred miles of Avius that were nothing more than harsh, barren rock. A fitting place for this ritual. He would bring life where only desolation laid.

There were some materials that had been gathered. Proven sisters of the Silma had aided in the process, for these were the rituals of their very faith. Four of them gathered around the Sith Lord, their heads bowed as the King tucked the book into his pocket. One of the women spoke up, her voice low and uncertain. "My lord...this has never been attempted before...We worry that your vessel may not be enough for the task at hand." Adron's amethyst eyes gazed down at the woman with silencing intent. She did not speak again. Instead all four of the sisters took their positions on the four corners of the ziggurat's peak.

The wind picked up, a few stray droplets of rain fell down onto Adron while he moved to the center of the structure. The materials were mixed and gathered in a large iron cauldron. Adron pulled off the black cloak he'd been wearing, tossing it to the ground behind him.

"It is time." He declared.

He stood over the cauldron, watching the thin plumes of smoke that drifted up from the murky waters. The Sith Lord clasped his hands together, his eyes shining vibrantly as he focused on the Dark Side of the Force. He could feel it. The cold chill that wrapped around his spine, grasping him in an iron grip.

In this moment. It was pure. The Dark Side quaked vibrantly, flowing from Adron in uneven, mad droves.

He could hear their voices. The sisters who had agreed to help him with this task, chanting in a low baritone. Speaking an ancient Sith dialect that Adron had ordered them to rehearse. They were some of the best in the Silma, some of the brightest.

Their deaths would be a true loss. Adron's eyes shined brightly once again, this time the Force exploded from him, freezing the sisters in place. They were caught in the depths of the spell, unable to move, unable to fight. All they could do was chant the words taught to them in mindless repetition. It continued as the winds picked up and the rains bled over the temple. The waters had come to an unnatural boil, one so violent it caused the cauldron to sway and rock. Then came the screams. One of the sister's let out a pain-filled shriek as her legs began to slowly evaporate from her body, twisting away from her like sand in the winds. In only a few seconds she was gone and her screaming ended. The crimson particles she left behind danced around the Sith Lord before barreling into the cauldron. This occurred again and again until only one of the Witches remained. For life, sacrifices must be made. As the final witch began to evaporate as her sister's did, Adron felt something within him give.

"Wait..." He muttered, before his gut grew hot and uneven. Blood trickled down from the corner of his lips as he gazed at the witch before him, or the last of her that remained. The crimson liquid flowed from his lips in a steady stream. However it did not take the man long to understand what was happening. The King wiped his hand over the blood, causing it to become stained over his lips. He looked to his hand which was caked in the crimson liquid. He said nothing, instead allowed his hand to hover over the cauldron. It felt as if it took forever for a single drop to fall into the roiling waters. With the droplet of blood, everything went black. The waters turned and the winds around the ziggurat seemed to come to a stop. That was when the water turned to shadow and from the shadows came life.
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[Acantha Malvern]

L I V E
Adron Malvern ​

The voice was nothing more than a whisper. A harrowing echo ripping through an empty space that had long since forgotten the warmth and light of life. She was nothing more than a shadow.​

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A shadow now re-born of rock and salt. Twisting and writing in the nether it was being painfully coaxed from. She fought. Tooth and nail with each life that was drained to remain in the darkness, where it belonged, but the voice was convincing. The voice spoke words that demanded and tempted the shadow toward the light. Into the harsh wind that whipped violently around the gathering. Into the power that had been conjured and swirled violently around the cauldron. But the shadow did not want to go. The shadow did not want to leave what it had known since the construct of time had died alongside its mortal cage.​

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But the shadow had no choice. ​

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A harrowing, distorted scream came from the depths of the charcoal pit. It sounded like several voices at once. Intermingled with the dying cries of the Silmä as they sacrificed their lives to drag the shadow further from home. They were all different, yet all in pain. It came from the depths of a soul that had not known the touch of life for centuries gone by. It ripped and tore through the barren landscape, embedding chaos and discord amongst the jagged edges of obsidian rock. It was a scream that searched, belonging to a voice that craved. Yet it would find no comfort here. No shade to slink back to, no darkness to cower in, no shadow to call home.​

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It had been ripped from its home, from eternal rest, to be trapped in a prison of flesh and blood.​

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With the final cry of the last dying Silmä, the shadow felt its form solidifying. It felt the wind as it ripped across the landscape. It felt the chill as it smashed against the lip of the cauldron. It felt lifeblood. Stinging and stabbing as it coursed through its frozen veins. A hand, or rather, a claw, immerged from the depths of the cauldron. The skin it was encased in was pitch black, as dark as the nether its master had been dragged from. It held a hint of a human quality to it, but it was more bird-like than human. Long, willowy fingers with sharp talons embedded into their tips sunk into the wrought iron cauldron. As though it was made of no more than butter.​

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Another claw followed, sinking into the metal beside its twin. ​

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The claws attempted to lift the body that was attached to them. They attempted to pull it out of the cauldron on muscles that had not moved for years, on arms that barely remembered the true weight of a torso. They did not fail in their efforts. The body soon followed. A slender gathering of skin and bones covered in thick ebony feathers that glistened and gleamed like an oil slick in the sun. What the claws had not factored in were the legs. It was the legs that failed them. Bent and bowed like those of a goat with the same type of claws on its hands in place of feet. Unused and untested for longer than they had a mind to recall.​

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The body slid from the iron cauldron, landing in an impossible heap at the rounded metal feet. Inch by inch the shadow began to move its new limbs. They cracked and creaked as the bones settled into place, as the shadow began to untangle itself from the confusing heap of harrowingly long arms and legs. “What is this?” The shadow asked as the darkness cleared from its vision, revealing in a hazy light the body that now belonged to it. It was surprised to hear a voice, solid and tangible in nature, now seeping from its lips. It was a cold tone, pitched, yet empty like the soul that now inhabited the abandoned body.​

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It sat up shakily, surprised to find that its arms were more willing to hold its torso up than its legs were to attempt to stand. Its vision still faded in, inch by inch the blackness disappeared and replaced itself with light that the shadow had not seen since its departure. It drew in the scenery. The temple that dominated everything, the mountain that was plagued by the vicious wind, the face of the man that stared down at it expectantly. That was what the shadow focused on now.​

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“Who am I?” The cold and distance voice asked of the face.​

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[Adron Malvern]

DAUGHTER​

Tags: Acantha Malvern ​

With his command of The Force the Sith Lord was able to drag this creature from the depths of the Dark Side. It breached through the skin of shadow and darkness, revealing avian claws and fresh black feathers. Adron Malvern watched the birth of this creature with expectant amethyst eyes. He looked at this being and realized something had gone horribly wrong. Words spilled from her lips and he felt a pang in the center of his chest. She was sentient. Speaking words as if a full grown adult. Her eyes, round blue crystals with a small black fleck in their corner. Her hair, raven black and flowing thick from the base of her skull.

The ancient ritual had been one he drug from the depths of Sith Alchemy. A vicious life-draining beast that would serve its master faithfully. A bird of prey. This...this was not at all what he expected.

The Dark Side of The Force was a cruel weapon to use. For every strike it dealt to his enemies he could not help but wonder the double edged blade that had been drawn against him as well. A cruel joke, a backfire in the ritual, there was no way to know the cause of this. He could not hope to linger on the thought, not even for a moment. He took a few steps forward, bending to his knee and gazing down at the Sithspawn he had formed from his own blood.

Her voice was low and weak, as it had just come to life for the first time.

His hand reached out, taking hold of the jaw of this creature so that she could see the presence that loomed before her. His eyes were weary, yet they had lost none of their vibrant glow. The ritual had been taxing, even to Adron who had been sure to prepare a proper sacrifice of blood and bone to achieve this birth.

"You are Acantha Malvern." He declared with a soft tone.

He reached down, his arms curling under the avian woman so he could lift her from the hard cold ground below. "You are my daughter." He told her, turning from the source of her life and taking even steps towards the steps of the Ziggurat. With each step, his mind wandered further and further from where he was. He searched the Dark Side, searched the Force for a singular answer to an unspoken question.

Why?
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[Acantha Malvern]

L I V E
Adron Malvern ​

Despite the thick layer of ebony feathers covering her from the tip of her feet to the base of her neck, the beast shuddered.​

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It was a shudder full of life, full of the blood that now fuelled the heart nestled between her breasts. Each steady thump against her solid ribcage made her feel sick. To the bottom of a stomach that did not rightly belong to this soul. She could taste the bile on her tongue. After centuries of nothing, it was foul. So acidic it made her gag. Before she could evacuate what little poison sat in the empty pit in her gut, a hand burst forth from thin air to snatch the brittle bones in her jaw.​

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The shadow fought against his grip, but despite the desperate pleading of her mind, the body remained firmly in place. It was too weak to do anything more than mutter a painful groan of protest as he turned her head to glance into her still hazed eyes. The shadow looked back defiantly, as though demanding to know the meaning of such a rude and sudden upheaval from its rightful resting place. The body, however, merely looked on in exhaustion. Looked past the eyes that were home to a vibrant flicker of amethyst, past the chiselled features that gazed intently at her face.​

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Despite partaking in the activity for force knew how long, all the body wanted to do was sleep.​

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Acantha. The voice belonging to the man whispered into her ear. The talons on her feet dug deep, jagged trenches into the soft rock underfoot as they sought to find purchase. The name sounded foreign in her ears. It did not belong to the shadow, nor did it belong to the body, but it was the name both had been given. The claws on her hands curled around the man’s forearm, encasing it entirely in several inches of raven skin pulled taught against bird-like bones. She made no active effort to prevent the sharp nails from piercing his flesh.​

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As she straightened her spine, the world around her span. The jagged rocks became a blur of black and grey, merged with the dominating presence of the temple before them. The shadow tightened its grip on their father’s arm, and for the first time since it had been forced to enter this fleshy prison, the body obeyed.​

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Before too long, they were moving. Slowly and purposefully toward the building that loomed on the horizon. “I do not belong here.” The shadow whispered quietly as it coerced the shaking legs it stood on to move. One step after the other, claws clinging to rocks and debris scattered across the ground. As the temple crept closer, and as her eyes began to pick out the detailing on the obsidian stone, she spoke again. Mirroring the thoughts of her maker. “Why?”​

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[Adron Malvern]

DAUGHTER​

Tags: Acantha Malvern ​

They traveled to shelter. A temporary housing unit had been prepared for the King not far from the temple. It was modest, he wasn't even supposed to spend longer than a few hours within. He wondered if that time may extend. He carried the young creature to the sofa, settling her onto the soft cushions without a word. As he drew his arms from her he could see the thick crimson lines that flowed from his arm. He'd felt her razor sharp talons pierce into him while he carried her, but he was far too distracted to care for it. There was, however, one puncture in his arm that was steadily leaking. Placing a hand on his arm he exhaled, focusing on the Dark Side of the Force. The pain from the wound amplified as dark shadows spilled from his hand, dancing around the arm until finally they slid into his wound.

When he pulled his hand from the wound, it had bound itself closed, only a few traces of blood remained where the hand had been. He turned his eyes back to the woman before him. Woman. Girl. These words did not match her at all. She was a creation, a creature. Her body was that of a beast of prey, yet he could not help but see it...those eyes, her hair. She held every telling trait of the man's family, so powerfully that she reminded him of his eldest sister in her youth.

He walked over to her yet he had nothing to say to her words. Why was she here? He could not answer that. She was supposed to be nothing more than a weapon. This was not what he'd intended. He knelt down before the sofa, his hand reaching out to grab her clawed talons, running a finger over the cool bone.

Why?

The very question he had asked. Yet, he knew only one answer.

"The Force guided me to your creation." He told her, pressing his finger into one of her talons until the skin was split and blood flowed from his finger. He held the finger up for her to see, speaking evenly. "It is my blood that gave you life. My power that molded your body." He told her, wiping the blood against the sofa without a second thought.

"Your body is weak." He pointed out, his hand pressing into the joints of her knees testingly. "I will make you strong. Then I will make you powerful....and then you will destroy all in my path." His hand came up to hold the girl's chin, forcing her eyes to his. He allowed the Dark Side of the Force between them to flow freely, offering her the power and and thirst of the dark nether. "Do you understand why I created you?"
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[Acantha Malvern]

L I V E
Adron Malvern ​

Acantha felt it would take an age for the shadow to accept its new corporeal prison, so for now, the body and the shadow both found themselves grateful for the shelter they shuffled toward. At the very least, the walls would stop the harsh wind from biting at her exposed flesh.​

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When they entered, she was very much surprised to find a regal quality to the room. Even though the shelter seemed to be a temporary state, it was filled to the brim with all manner of comforts. Comforts that one might assume were fit for a King. A sharp, piercing pain dominated her mind when she tried to wrap her head around how she even knew that. Or how she knew any of the things she had accomplished since the shadow had been trapped. How had she known how to put one foot in front of the other? How had she known to form the words that had tumbled from her lips? The pain only intensified the more she attempted to understand, so she settled for simply accepting it. At least for now.​

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The body was exceedingly grateful for the plush pillows as her father laid her across them. Acantha could feel it relax the moment it was enveloped by the soft, silky sensation of luxury. Though it was tired, and in need of a sleep that could rival the dead, Acantha found the eyes were unwilling to close. There was a scent that filled the room quite unlike anything she could recognize. It piqued both the shadow and the bodies interest. She could taste metal on the tongue. Coppery, like a rusted key. The air around her smelled rich, so thick she could almost feel it pressing against her skin. Glass blue eyes darted around the room rapidly, finally laying upon the source when Adron moved to tend to his wounds.​

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Blood.​

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It seeped from the wound, droplets glistening wildly in the dim light as they soaked into cloth wrapped around his wrist. Acantha’s eyes widened, and the tip of a scarlet tongue poked out past her lips. A growl, not unlike something an animal made, rumbled in her ears. But it was not from the throat as she had expected. It was a hungry growl. Emanating from the same stomach that had moments ago teetered on the brink of nausea. She could barely focus on the swell of dark force in the room as the wound was knitted together. Her intense gaze was trained on the still damp stain that had accumulated on his sleeve.​

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When he spoke, the spell was broken, albeit briefly. Jet black brows furrowed in the centre as Acantha let his words settle in her mind. She was blood of his blood, or at least the body was. The shadow firmly refuted the claim, but it could deny no longer the origins of its prison.​

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Her whole body tensed when Adron reached out to prick the tip of his finger on a talon. Doubly so as a droplet of crimson liquid pooled from the wound. She snatched her gaze away from it, to lessen the craving, but the smell still filled her nostrils. It did not fade. Not even when he wiped his finger clean on the spotless sofa. Instinctively, her throat hissed at the teasing prod that Adron gave her knee, but she could not argue his point. Even the shadow knew the body was not yet ready. Once again, Adron caught her chin in a grasp. Once again, he turned her ocean gaze to face his.​

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Only this time, she saw more.​

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It stemmed from the sudden darkness that filled the room. Not the darkness that Acantha or the shadow had known before, but a darkness very similar. It screamed of things. Things that felt familiar to Acanatha, the most like home since she had crawled from the depths of the cauldron. Horror. Sorrow. Death. She breathed it in, as though it had a scent stronger than the blood still drying on the sofa. She opened her mouth partially, to answer his question, but in that instance, a door to her right swung open on steel hinges. Another body walked through the gap in the wall. A slim, pretty young blonde carrying a silver tray topped with a crystalline glass.​

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Acantha was immediately distracted. It was the second person she had seen since her birth, if that was even the right word for it. The girl stopped in her tracks the moment she laid eyes on the half-woman half-raven. Quite a terrifying sight for someone who was not expecting it. Acantha could feel her fear, as deeply as she felt the darkness radiating from her father. Her pale skin was so translucent that Acantha could see the veins in her neck throbbing, with each adrenaline-fuelled thud of her heart. The thick ebony talons adoring her fingers tensed, tearing clean through the soft material stretched tight over the sofa. The mixture of dried blood in the room, coupled with the intense sensation of the dark side swelling like a storm and the fear that radiated from the young servant like heat from a fire…​

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The ravenous hunger caught both body and shadow in an iron tight grasp. Acantha could not control it.​

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She lurched forward as the ocean drained from her eyes, replaced with rocks of polished obsidian. Renewed by an animalistic desire to sate her craving, the body leapt toward the servant in a blur of black feathers, breaking clean out of the grasp that Adron had on her chin. The girl barely had time to scream before Acantha’s sharp taloned fingers caught her in a razor sharp grip. Whatever scream she had managed to get out was immediately drowned out by a harrowing sound as she lost herself to greed. Tendrils of ebony lashed out from the young girl in droves, each finding a home in the mass of feathers covering Acantha. It was not long before the room was overcome with the same dark power Adron had demonstrated earlier.​

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The soul of this servant would feed the shadow, and what was left would feed the body.​

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[Adron Malvern]

DAUGHTER​

Tags: Acantha Malvern ​

The darkness swallowed this creature, this daughter that Adron was still forcing himself to come to terms to. He had been so lost in the transition of the Force that he had not thought to secure his tent. A young woman entered through the door, her voice speaking out to offer the King a drink. His eyes quirked softly as he felt the entire room shift unnaturally. His eyes narrowed, yet he was unable to halt what came next. The mass of black feathers and razor sharp talons that was Acantha shifted with eerie precision. She maneuvered around her father effortlessly, passing him to the point where all he could do was feel the subtle tickle of her feathers across his neck. By the time he turned to face the scene it was far too late.

Crimson stained the shelter's inner wall. A marvelous red streak that led from the ceiling to the sight of the feeding. Adron turned and gazed at the sight closely. Not only did Acantha destroy the physical, her razor sharp teeth slicing into whatever remained for her to feast on. Her body seemed to be actively absorbing the woman who had been foolish enough to enter the King's shelter. He felt her life force slip away and then suddenly her presence in the Force was consumed by Acantha.

"Marvelous..." He whispered softly.

Still his eyes showed some remorse at the scene. "A shame." He spoke, a few steps bringing him to Acantha's side. On the ground was a shattered flute of wine which the Sith recovered, his eyes dancing over the large crack in the glass. "It was one of my favorite sets. Now it will be incomplete." He commented, turning back and pausing as his eyes grew wide in realization.

He felt...empowered. Confused eyes gazed back at Acantha as she drew from the Dark Side. The life that she severed from the host was not only empowering her...yet to feel that which he created feed caused the Dark Side of the Force to dance around him in massive empowering waves. He turned to a seat in the edge of the room, lowering down into it while his lips curled into a slight smile. He chuckled softly to himself as he realized exactly what his daughter was. A savage extension of his power, something far more than he could have ever dreamed.

It was perfect. He sat, pleased with himself as he curled one leg over another. "With you at my side. Nothing will stop me." He said, a hand rising to his cheek as he sat for a silent moment of contemplation. "Acantha." He held a hand out to that which he had created. "Come to me, sweet daughter."
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[Acantha Malvern]

L I V E
Adron Malvern ​

Acantha consumed.​

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Bite after bite, crimson liquid soaking her skin and trickling down her ebony feathers as the final strands of soul were eagerly extracted. In the end, there was nothing of the sweet young blonde left. She floated free of Acantha’s talons, empty and broken. Like the barren shell of a beetle or the dried out husk of a snake. All she could see was red, all she could smell was copper, all she could hear was the echoing memory of the servant’s scream.​

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The body stumbled back a few steps, abandoning the shrivelled woman and the mess of scarlet and glass littering the floor. Acantha felt stronger. The body and the shadow both. They still had such a long way to go, but it was a good start.​

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In all the chaos, Acantha had not heard a single word Adron had said, but she heard him now. Dragging her sleepy glass gaze to the man on the sofa, his gentle tone hummed in her ears. Come to me. A simple command. Sated with the soul that still buzzed around her like a cloud of thick smoke, the shadow had no mind to argue. With heavy footsteps, the creature crept back over to the sofa and slunk heavily into the satiny pillows once more.​

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She made no move to apologise for the mess. Or for the broken glass. Or for the loss of a servant. Sorrow, regret, guilt, empathy. These were sentiments unknown to her, and it was unlikely she would ever learn them. Before she had allowed the hunger to overtake her, Father had asked a question. The answer was not clear to Acantha at the time, but as her eyes inspected the scene of disarray she’d left in her wake. This was what she knew. From the moment she had crawled from the depths of the cauldron, this was the one thing that had felt the most natural.​

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Breathing, walking, talking…​

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Acantha would make sense of those later. For now, all she needed to know was that chaos was her realm. She belonged in the heart of it, and she had been contained in this fleshy prison to serve it. Where the Galaxy found itself brimming light, Acantha would be there to snuff it out. Where life reigned supreme, Acantha would be there to defeat it. An angel of death. “I bring the darkness.” Acantha spoke in a haunting whisper that sounded akin to a child succumbing to the grips of sleep. She settled back into the sofa, letting lose a comfortable mumble as the pillows enveloped her. “Your darkness.” She had no other way of verbally explaining it, but she had no doubt that he would teach her.​

 

[Adron Malvern]

TRAINING​

Tags: Acantha Malvern ​

Several Days Later
Illyria, Dragonne Palace​

Home. What words could be formed to explain the concept to a monster? It was a wasted effort. Over the days following Acantha's birth, if it could be called such, the King of Illyria took strides to test her presence in the corporal world. Once she was sure she was properly tethered to the realm of the living, he brought her from the planet's moon. She was of ravenous appetite. Former slavers and renegade nobles who had proven themselves a threat to the Illyrian way of life proved to be a perfect source of nourishment.

So for days he fed her. She destroyed one life after another, each time the Dark Side of the Force rejoiced at the slaughter, providing power to Acantha and her creator in heavy droves.

Now they had passed the feeding stage. They were focused on something more. Acantha's very growth in the Dark Side.

The two sat across from each other, their legs crossed as the Dark Side of the Force wrapped itself around them. Adron spoke, his words echoing out to her as he spoke them.

"Peace is a lie, there is only passion. Through passion I gain strength, through strength I gain power, through power I gain victory. Through Victory my chains are broken. Only the Force will free me." He recited the ancient Code of the Sith as he understood it. "You are, in all ways, my daughter." He said, his eyes coming open.

"You must be disciplined in the Force or my enemies will seek to strike at you. They will expect to find a frightened child. You will show them a monster." He held no hesitation in his words, no weakness that he could show this creature. Her blood was his own and if he showed her weakness, then she would be weak. If he showed her strength, then she would be strong. "There is no peace. We find salvation in order and order comes from the spilling of blood. You will spill the blood of my enemies."

"The Force is the tool you shall trust in. Now...." The lights in the room came on with a vibrant glow. The room that was bathed in darkness was now brightly illuminated. When Acantha turned to see her father, she would see he was gone. The room was massive, a training hall with pristine metallic walls and floors. The entire ceiling was crafted with lights to provide perfect illumination.

Adron stood on a metal disk with repulsors embedded in the bottom of the device. He hovered far above the woman, looking down at her with harsh eyes. "Reach me, but leave your wings be. You will call on the Force or you will fail." He waved his hand before him, causing the entire chamber to rumble. The ground beneath Acantha would shift and shake before finally large cubes of metal detached from the floor and hovered into the air above Acantha. Suddenly the cubes began to twist and fly in a tornado motion around the Sith Lord.
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[Acantha Malvern]

W I N
Adron Malvern ​

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Minutes. Hours. Days. Weeks.​

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Acantha had no true concept of time, but the time that did pass went by as quickly as a blink.​

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In their little makeshift tent, Acantha grew stronger. One day, when the shadow felt like nothing more than a memory in the back of Acantha’s mind, it was time to leave. Her Father bundled them both in an extravagant ship that cut through the blackness of space as though it were no more than butter.​

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Illyria. Or, as Father called it, home.​

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She had no idea what that word meant, but the swell of pride in her Father’s voice when he spoke of it told her enough. It was important to him, and it was where she would become everything he needed. ​

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Feed after feed, life and life, the dark side swelled with every soul she consumed. They were mostly of little consequence. Former slaves, pirates, common criminals. However, some had special significance to Father. She could see it in the way his fist clenched as they were dragged into the room. The way his face twitched when he spoke their names. The righteous look of condemnation that dominated his expression the moment Acantha began to devour.​

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Those were the ones that tasted the sweetest. They were the ones that bolstered her strength ten times over what the bodies of the lesser beings had. They were the most fun to toy with, often being brought in unbound to a room with no locked doors. She did so enjoy when they tried to run. Once she let one get halfway to the other side of Illyria in a borrowed speeder before she caught him. Her Father’s raucous laughter as he watched on still echoed in her ears. A little trophy of her success.​

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When her appetite was quite sated, and when Father was assured that she would no longer run rampant with the palace walls, the true training began.​

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“Peace is a lie.” Acantha knew that. It was a fallacy that most humans liked to use to comfort themselves. She liked shattering it when they least expected it. “There is only passion.” Acantha was only familiar with passion in one sense. “Through passion, I gain strength, through strength, I gain power…” That bolstered what she had originally assumed. Her passion was consumption. To feed the shadow that she had once belonged to with soul after soul. When fed, it was strong, when strong, she could feed more. It all made sense. “…through power, I gain victory. Through victory, my chains are broken. Only the Force will free me.”​

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Only the Force will free me.​

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Acantha’s eyes snapped open. Her intensely curious glass blue gaze landing directly on Adron. He spoke of her being his daughter, and she could only nod. It was the one thing she knew for absolute certain. Much had been said of the force in recent days, but Acantha had not even begun to wrap her mind around the concept yet. The few times she had displayed it, it had been in a fit of hunger or rage. Yet Father could summon it whenever he wished, she recalled him doing so just after she had been born. She had made up her mind, the moment he had first spoken of it, to master it as he had.​

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Adron continued, but something he said made her face scrunch up sweetly, like a child who had been offered a vegetable instead of sweets. “Spilling blood?” Her tone was riddled with confusion. Why would she spill any of it? The double meaning was lost on her, and she could only consider what a waste it would be.​

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Bright light suddenly flooded the room, and Acantha blinked rapidly to make her eyes adjust. By the time the room became clear again, Father no longer sat where he once did. She spun her head at an alarming angle, as though she had no neck joints to limit her view, but she could not see him anywhere. “Reach me.” His voice boomed out across the room, bouncing off metallic walls and echoing loudly. Acantha snapped her gaze in its direction, to find her father floating in mid-air.​

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A beaming smile broke on her face until Adron spoke further. “But leave your wings be. You will call on the Force or you will fail.” Then, an almost dazzling display erupted before her eyes. The floor beneath her shook so violently she was sure she could see the tiles shifting in their places. It was only when they detached entirely that Acantha realised they were shaking. They joined their master high above, twisting and flying erratically around him until he was a mere blur in the centre of her vision. Acantha giggled.​

​

“This is a game.” She said, with some determination in an ever child-like tone. As she analysed the patterns the cubes made, she wondered what she would get if she won. Perhaps something to eat, or something shiny to add to her collection, or maybe something new to preen her feathers with.​

​

Adron had created her to be a monster, and a monster she was. Despite the sentient half of her wondering idly about foolish things, the body and the shadow knew just what to do. A hand reached out to test its strength, to playfully knock one of the cubes out of its swirl. When the satisfying sound of metal against metal rang out in the empty training hall, Acantha found herself grinning. She crouched, which felt strange in her human-like form. There were no talons to grip into the floor with, no claws to steady her position. It was not that hands and feet did not work well; they just did not work as well.​

​

Still, she managed to steady herself in the space of a heartbeat, crouched like an animal waiting to pounce on its prey. The shadow gathered itself around her, manifesting and directing the force to its will. It was the body that hesitated, that lingered a few seconds longer than it should have done. It was the shadow that had to remind the body that they were made from the force. Born by it. If it was not theirs to command, then whose?​

​

When the shadow demanded the arm to raise, the body obeyed. In a flash as quick as the tornado Father had set spinning around him, Acantha was air-bound. Cutting through the atmosphere like a dart as the arms pulled cube after cube from the cyclone. She used them, ironically, like steps. Each one found its place beneath her feet, just as the momentum from her jump began to falter. When their task was complete, a simple flick of her finger set them pinging rapidly around the room, leaving dents where they struck the metal walls.​

​

Upon reaching the tornado itself, Acantha could only think of one thing to do. With the cubes moving her steadily toward it like a conveyer belt, she swept her arms apart in a grand motion that brought with it a gust of her own wind. It was nowhere near as strong as Father’s and before her arms had even moved an inch, Acantha knew it would only hold the cubes back for a few moments. Was that moment long enough for her to take advantage of? Perhaps, if the body could hold true. The gust of wind came, forcing a column to form each side of the tornado, the gap was just big enough, and at the last possible second, Acantha leapt from the last cube.​

​

Her body pulled tight together, just as she would if she were diving for prey in her true form. She could see him clearly now, her Father. Standing on his flying metal disk with a grin on his face. She had done all she could, she just hoped it was enough. If she could just reach out and touch him…​

​

 

[Adron Malvern]

FALL​

Tags: Acantha Malvern ​

Power was not for the weak. It was not something to be meekly utilized or kept

in reserve, it demanded the respect of all those that dared to wield it. It took years of practice, years of discipline, and most importantly years of failure for any one being to claim they knew anything of true power. The Sith Lord Darth Malphas knew something of power. He had watched it wrap its vicious grip around numerous facets of the galaxy, squeezing until finally it became the cause of destruction.

He relished that part. The moment where power and calamity met and birthed destruction. Nothing could ever be built until what laid before it was destroyed.

Destruction.

Creation.

A beautiful coin to be flipped. His eyes gazed down at Acantha, watching as her posture fell to one akin to a predator. She was ever the huntress, poised for the strike. Malphas watched as his daughter sprang into action. Her movements caused his brow to rise in a bit of surprise. He said nothing however he watched her with careful, hawk like eyes. Eyes she herself held as she moved in an impossible pattern, moving from one block to the next with a tactful precision.

He was impressed. Whether she knew it or not the Force was naturally channeled through her body at all times. It would be far easier for her to connect to the Dark Side than any of Adron's other apprentices.

"The Dark Side is with you, utilize its power or it will devour you." He called out to her, his hands resting at the small of his back. Her strength was perfect, her poise was perfect, yet there was something missing. Malphas' hand twitched softly as he felt it resonate from within Acantha.

There it is. He realized, his amethyst eyes opening a bit wider as if to gaze into the depths of the harpy's very being.

"Weakness." He muttered softly. He watched her negotiate the blocks, one after another until finally she leapt into the air. Adron's gaze fell on her harshly as he knew the result of her attempt. She had gambled on the Force to lead her this far and the reality of the gamble was...

It had failed.

Acantha fell short of her mark. One of the blocks swung wildly, crossing over the back of her legs and throwing her from her trajectory. She was unfortunate to have another block slam into her chest, cutting her flight entirely. From there it was a hard, painful fall. She slammed into a few of the other blocks until finally her body slammed against the ground.

Malphas had seen it only a moment before the failed attempt. She had relied on the Force where training and more use of her physical body were needed. It was not something that could be helped, her body was new and foreign to her. However, if her training was to continue she would need to break in this new skin.

Her father remained silent. The blocks continued to speed around him as that same unyielding gaze fell upon her expectantly. They said one thing in droves.

Continue.
​

​

 

[Acantha Malvern]

W I N
Adron Malvern

Weakness.​

​

It was a deafening word that cruelly stole the wind from Acantha’s sails. It was a word that knocked her focus with such force that failure became inevitable. All she could do was brace herself for it.​

​

The first block came, clipping the back of her heel and spinning her wildly off course. Then the second hit. Far harder than the first, directly into the centre of her chest. It stole the very breath from her lungs and left her gasping as she fell. She did what she could to prevent the damage, using the force somewhat like a pillow, but she was too late to prevent it all. With cold marble pressing up against her back, Acantha allowed darkness to consume her. A swirling storm of emotion raged through her body, making it almost as impossible to breathe as when the cube had hit her.​

​

Irritation. Anger. Embarrassment. Pain. All the consequences that failure bestowed on those unfortunate enough to cross its path. She allowed herself to wallow in the pity for a moment, and then she opened her eyes.​

​

In the space of a heartbeat, she cast aside the irritation, and the embarrassment, but held on to the pain and the anger for dear life. As though they were the key to some sort of unspoken power. It was not the bodies doing, nor Acantha’s, but the shadow insisted upon it. It could use them to their advantage. Acantha, despite the pain of a few cracked ribs and wounded pride, could find no reason to argue with it. As she rose from her place on the floor, her mind had already sped through a thousand different methods of reaching him and a thousand more of defeating the torrent of blocks in her path. But the shadow urged patience.​

​

Acantha stood, ignoring the body as it screamed in protest against any kind of movement. The shadow made them pace. Slowly. First one way around the tornado of blocks, and then the other. Back and forth like an inpatient animal waiting for its keeper to fling fresh meat over the bars of the cage. It was the eyes that did most of the work, drinking in everything from the blocks as they zipped around erratically, to the way her Father stood. It was almost impossible to see how to break through them. How to win. But the shadow, once again, counselled patience.​

​

Standing stock-still before the swirling storm of blocks, Acantha focused hard on their movements. Maybe, just maybe…​

​

The blocks were not erratic.​

​

She could see it so clearly now. Each movement they made drawing an ebony line through the air, marking its path clearly. When looked at all together it was pure chaos, but each element in their own went through a very specific dance. Like the couples at the parties Father sometimes hosted in his marble halls. Each one was graceful, elegant, and purposeful. Acantha could not help but show her elation by jumping happily from one foot to another with a beaming grin on her face. The shadow continued its work, despite Acantha’s rather human-like display of emotion. It mapped a route across the blocks. One that would lead them to the top of the tornado, but from there it was a simple drop down to Father.​

​

She crouched again much like she had done the first time but with a firmer plan in mind this time around.​

​

When she leapt forward to the first block, the shadow truly took over. Acantha’s form moulded into one not of bird, or of human, but of darkness. A wisp of black smoke that moved impossibly fast. The minute her foot hit the first block; her human form phased back into view. As though nothing out of the ordinary had happened, Acantha continued. In a mixture of shadow and human form, she leapt from one block to another, twisting and twirling just like the dancers at Father’s parties. Now she saw their patterns she felt far less unnerved by them. In fact, as she settled on each block, it was almost like taking a leisurely flight on her own wings.​

​

Approaching the top, the shadow once again bid Acantha wait. She let the very top block circle around three times, watching its pattern carefully as it zipped over the top of her Father. There was a moment where the gap between them looked close enough. So close that even Acantha in her human form could manage it, but even then, the shadow could not and would not allow them to fail again. The word that Father had uttered still stung, pinging like the cubes in its hollow chest.​

​

When Acantha stepped from the final block, the shadow once again took over. Twisting her form into something not quite corporal, something not quite belonging to this world. It curled and stretched its darkness from the block to Adron in mesmerising patterns, leaving trails of smoke in its wake. Reaching the cube, the human form returned before Adron. The tips of its toes pressed against the edge of the block, with a small boost of force behind her heels to keep her from falling.​

​

“I WIN!” Acantha declared loudly, beaming with pride as she threw her arms up into the air.​

​