Duel Bad Moon Rising

[Amani Serys]

“-And so they say that those two moons, Ashla, and Bogan, represent the light and the dark side of the Force. The Je’daii would send anyone with an imbalance into exile, where they would meditate until they found that balance again. So, if one of them strayed, say, too far to the light, they would be sent to Ashla, and there, they would focus on the darkness of Bogan, until it was equal once again.

“But, why did they want balance?”

“What do you mean?”

“Why did they want to balance them? Why did they want any dark? Couldn’t they just… keep focusing on the light?”

“Well-”

“Galar Serys! You’re not telling our daughter more scary stories, are you?”

“N-No! Not scary. Just… just stories!”

“You know how she felt about the Flesh Raiders story. She didn’t sleep for the whole night!”

“Don’t worry mommy, it was just a story. And I’m not scared of the Flesh Raiders anymore!”

“See, Niah? Look at that, she’s not even scared of ‘em anymore.”

“That’s right! I’m not scared by papa’s silly stories anymore! I’m brave!”

“Yes, dear, you are very brave. But even brave people need to go to sleep!”

“Hey, I had that covered until you came along!”

“Oh hush. And that means you, too, goofball.”

“Moooom...”

....

“Okay…”

“Tell you what, to make up for it, I’ll tell you two whole stories tomorrow night. How about that?”

“Two?! Yesss, thank you papa!”

“Hah, you’re welcome, sweetie. We’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Goonight, Amani. We love you.”

“Goodnight! Love you, too!”

…

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Amani had no idea what it was going to be like. Returning to Tython. She never came back, not since they died, not since she left to join the Jedi. Until now, that is.

It was sunset at the edge of the mountain valley, where a small ship hovered outside an old, abandoned farmhouse. The waves of billowing grass underneath returned to their natural state after the craft touched down, and when the cockpit had opened, the field was overcome once again with a tranquil silence, accompanied only by a gentle breeze. A pair of boots landed onto the soft soil, where they stood still.

Deep breaths.

Amani stared at the house, never taking her eyes off of it the entire time. It brought a barrage of emotions. The good and the bad. All the memories held inside that home, her home, it was almost too much to bear. But she had a job. A mission, that depended on her.

And she needed to prove she was as brave as they thought she was.

Each step forward felt like a passing lifetime. But Amani persisted. She swallowed her doubts, pushing forward with seething resolve until she reached the inside. There, it felt as if a weight had been lifted off her shoulders, only for an even bigger one to come crashing down onto her. But she persisted. Amani used it to fuel her fire. Through the living room, and into the corridor, ghostly visions of a lost childhood manifested before her. She ran her fingers along the wall, the tactile sensation grounding her to reality as past and present converged in her mind. The child’s bedroom remained sealed off, that wasn’t what she was here for. She wasn’t sure even she could take it.

But to the parents’ bedroom, the door slid open with a groan. It was the last place she saw them. Sick. Dying. Dead. It would do the job.

Amani knelt in front of the bed, and took her pike off of her back, hands shaking violently all the while. With the Force, it levitated before her, and she began to remove its many components, revealing the glowing crystal inside. The haft of the weapon gently fell to the floor as she took the crystal tightly into her grasp.

Pour all of your hate, fear, and anger into it. That’s how it was supposed to work. If she was going to get stronger. If she was going to do what needed to be done. It would be a good first step.

A torrent of blazing energy.

A scream.

And eventually,

Silence.

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Amani jolted upright, gripping her head as a flash of pain quickly subsided. How much time had passed? It was dark now. But it wasn’t the time that woke her up. It was the sound. A ship.

Someone else was here.

The rogue jedi scrambled over to her weapon, hesitating only a moment as she gave the crystal a once over, before she hurriedly reconstructed the pike back to normal. Creeping back to the front doorway, she peeked outside to see lights aimed directly at the entrance, and made out two silhouettes standing in front of the craft. No getting out of this unseen.

Should have figured someone would follow.

“What are you doing here?”

Amani stepped out into the beam of light, pike held out behind her unignited. She intended to keep it that way. She didn’t want to hurt them.

“How did you find me, Centin?”

The beams from the ship faded. Only the lights of the night sky granted them sight. Above, the twin moons of Ashla and Bogan rose steadily. The former was her next stop.

And she wasn’t going to let anyone stop her.

Centin Tillo Risen

 

[Risen]

Amani Serys Centin Tillo

The boy had to see it for himself.

Dark fields fled under the trilling of Centin’s quadjumper. Moonlight, in shades of rust and dim violet, formed halos in the night sky. The air was heavy with foreboding, omens suspended like the chill after rain. No words were exchanged. None were needed. Centin’s mind was made up.

Risen didn’t intend to change it.

Amani’s disappearance had caused mayhem at Silver Rest as the Jedi masters scrambled for answers. Those that knew her — Risen included — were plied for information that would reveal her whereabouts. The temple was afire with noise. Centin was silent. He always fought with intensity, but now seemed to fight with purpose. His ambushes grew less common, as did his backtalk.

It came as no surprise when Risen found him packing meager supplies into his ship. But perhaps it surprised the padawan when his master, rounding the bulky engines of the junker, began to help him.

The mission wasn’t sanctioned. Risen had already decided to take the blame if the Masters caught on, but even he didn’t know why Centin chose this destination. “Where to?” he had asked.

“Tython,” came the reply. That was all, the only conversation of a days-long flight. Oh, there would be time to talk — time to tell Centin what he knew of loss, what the Night, the Dark Side, really meant. There would be time to learn, and time to grow. But that time was not now.

Now, they settled before a farmhouse that sprouted from the darkness like a grave untended. A rippling of grass. A Mirialan in high-beams.

Risen stayed behind, for now. The boy had to see it for himself.

 

[Centin Tillo]

Amani Serys Risen

It’s not as though Centin hadn’t already noticed some changes in Amani. First after the events at Yurb and then again, just after Yavin. The latter seemed to have only accelerated the descent she seemed to be on.

But here in the light of the twin moons Amani looked different. It wasn’t a physical change that he saw, though. It was in her demeanor, in the way she looked at him. Her eyes seemed almost hollow, all of her usual grating bubbliness gone. It hurt to see her like that.

“Amani, how would I not know? I’m your friend. Of course I’d knew you’d come here.”

He moved towards her, arms opened wide in a welcoming gesture.

“C’mon, let’s go back to Silver Rest. I know I can’t understand what you’re going through, but I’m sure someone there can help.”

His voice was calm despite the growing desperation he felt. The young padawan finally had a growing network of people he didn’t keep at arm's length, and now his oldest friend wanted to abandon him.

“So what do you say?”

Maybe he underestimated her resolve, or maybe it was some sort of misplaced hope in the friendship they’d had. Whatever the reason, her reply shocked him. When she rejected his offer, something inside him ignited. A small spark of anger began to grow as he stared at her. He had been so sure that she would come back with him.

She’s willing to throw everything away? Abandon everyone she’s known? And for what?

“Honestly, I’m surprised. I thought maybe, well, me coming here would be enough to convince you. I see now that I’m wrong.” His gaze fell to the ground, lingering in thought.

No amount of persuasion is going to work. Her mind is made up. There’s no other way then.

The momentary anger began to subside as Centin found a new resolve of his own.

“But you know what? It doesn’t matter. I’m not letting you leave.”

 

[Amani Serys]

Amani looked away, suddenly regretting ever sharing where she was raised with him. Centin wouldn’t understand. She wished she could just go back. Go back and have everything be normal again. But it didn’t work like that, and she couldn’t live with herself knowing what her mistakes led to.

"I can feel your anger. Your hatred burns. But not bright enough child. Remember this moment. Comprehend the enormity of your failure, your worthlessness. She will die a thousand deaths before the end because of you. Remember me and when your hatred burns true, come find me. If you survive."

She had survived. And now she was driven by a singular purpose.

“Don’t you get it, Centin? I’m doing this for us. For the Jedi.” It was the only family Amani had now. The thought of Elise being at the mercy of Darth Prazutis and the Sith because of her was more than enough to spur the girl into action. She shook her head,

“I’m not going back. I can’t. Not until I finish what I started.”

Amani stepped forward, but Centin didn’t move. “Honestly, I’m surprised. I thought maybe, well, me coming here would be enough to convince you. I see now that I’m wrong.” His words hurt them both. She paused a moment, closing her eyes as a few tears rolled down her cheek. He spoke like she was betraying him. Like she was doing something wrong. Was it?

“But you know what? It doesn’t matter. I’m not letting you leave.”

She faced him again, her voice shaking, “Please don’t make me do this.” This wasn’t an option. She needed to get to Ashla. She needed to get stronger. She needed to do this for herself as much as anyone else. Amani tried to step past him, but he stood tall in her way. He was serious.

So was she.

In a blur, Amani swung her staff around from behind her, attempting to strike Centin in the wrist, then following up by spinning over to hit him in the back of the knee. If she could quickly disarm and immobilize him, it would give her an escape. If successful, she would turn on her heels, and in one fluid motion begin to dart towards her ship.

Centin Tillo Risen

 

[Centin Tillo]

Amani Serys Risen

Doing this? For the Jedi? Could she hear herself?

Her staff flew at him suddenly, nearly catching him off guard. He parried the initial strike towards his wrist with his own weapon and moved backwards to avoid the followup. The surprise attack would’ve worked against him not too long ago.

She’s quick. But not as quick as him.

Centin looked at the vibroblade in his hand and turned it, the blunt edge now serving as the dominant side. He wasn’t looking to hurt her.

The padawan raised the weapon, leveling the sword at his friend. He then made his own advance, dropping his usual duelist form and sprinting forward. His usual tactics wouldn’t work here.

The first point of his attack was just underneath Amani’s arm, a strike that would land on her ribs if it struck true and hopefully cause her weapon to drop. And in case that wasn’t enough, Centin raised his left hand simultaneously.

If they went on for too long, she’d probably use the Force. And that was a battle he knew he couldn’t win against her. Instead, he opted to beat her to it.

His left hand released a wave of Force energy, hoping to catch her by surprise and knock her off her feet. He wasn’t much of a Force user himself, but this was one of the few techniques he had in his arsenal. If he hoped to win this fight, he’d probably have to use everything.

 

[Amani Serys]

Centin Tillo | Risen

Should have figured. Centin was always a better fighter than her. She couldn’t rely on speed alone to finish this. He rushed forward with a counterattack, but Amani was ready. Swinging her staff into a guard position, the strike was deftly blocked. She had learned some new skills of her own.

The Force push however, had been wholly unexpected.

With a gust of energy, Centin threw her backwards, sending her rolling into the grass. Amani caught herself, quickly scrambling back into stance. A drop of water landed in front of her. Then more. The crack of thunder sounded off in the distance. A storm rolling in. Tython had a funny way of doing that. It always seemed to know when things were out of balance...

She glared back at Centin, catching her breath. He was really pulling out all the stops for this. “Just… let me go!” Amani threw her hands towards the ground, channeling a burst of raw Force power that upheaved the soil between them, creating a fissure capable of blasting him backwards to ground if he wasn’t ready. She followed up with a Force-enhanced leap towards him, grabbing one end of the staff with both hands and bringing it down in a heavy overhead arc.

 

[Centin Tillo]

Amani Serys Risen

A rift appeared in the ground before him, the intense blast of Force energy sending him backwards. He landed roughly on his back, surprised by how quickly she had recovered.

That’s that then. It’s really starting now.

He had barely recovered his own composure before Amani leapt at him. He now stood on the receiving end of the same move he used on that Sith apprentice back on Nar Shaddaa.

Time slowed as his mind replayed the moments from that encounter, and how Serixibis had swiftly countered his own attack. With a blueprint in mind, he rose quickly to a knee and raised the vibroblade perpendicular to meet the incoming staff.

The weapons slammed against one another, the weight of her attack causing his arms to tremble. He braced his free hand against the flat of the blade, shoving with all of his might to repel her staff.

The imitation was nearly complete. He spun quickly on his knee around Amani and stood, now one her left side. The padawan let the momentum of the maneuver carry his own weapon, the blunt edge of his blade racing to slam into her flank. Centin didn’t hold back, putting as much force as he could into the attack.

He didn’t want to hurt her, but he needed to incapacitate her.

 

[Amani Serys]

Centin Tillo | Risen

Their weapons slammed together, the clang of metal against metal echoing throughout the mouth of the valley. Amani pushed down with all her might, but Centin’s response was quick. He spun around before she could react, swinging with as much strength as he could muster. The blunt of blade struck her in the side, stinging pain reverberating across her body on contact.

Amani’s vision blurred and she fell to her hands and knees, staining herself in the muddy soil. The anger began to show itself. Anger at herself, at Centin, at all of it. She took only the briefest of moments to catch her breath, she couldn’t let him follow up. Amani swung around, attempting to whip Centin towards her with the Force, and send him flying in that direction.

If he wasn’t going to hold back his strikes, then neither could she.

And if that worked, she would follow up by swinging her staff out towards him. If he wasn’t lucky enough to react in time, Centin would be effectively clotheslined with a horizontal strike.

 

[Centin Tillo]

Amani Serys Risen

His attack was successful, though he didn’t have an opportunity to rest. A sharp pull propelled him towards Amani, her staff held out to greet him. His arms raised instinctively to shield himself from the brunt of the attack.

The padawan’s forearms collided with the hardened songsteel clothesline accompanied by a large crack, the sound of bone almost certainly cracking under intense pressure. He barely had time to let out a pained howl before the air escaped from his lungs as he slammed into the ground.

Not too long ago, during the feast on Midvinter, Centin had considered showing Amani a new technique he had been practicing. Now he was glad he hadn’t. He wasn’t in any condition to continue a brawl. Instead, he set his sights on one final attempt at taking her down.

He rolled in the mud onto his side, pushing himself up off the ground. His left arm coursed with a searing pain as he applied pressure, but he didn’t pay it any mind. He stood to face her and approached slowly, hands raised in false concession.

“Alright Amani. I’m too injured to fight now.”

Just a bit closer.

Centin continued to close the distance as he offered his surrender.

“How about we just call it a day then?”

Just a little more.

He was barely more than an arm’s length away before he extended both of his hands towards the girl.

“Sorry.”

Muddy particles dispersed through the air as a sphere of Force energy erupted around him. The attack’s radius was limited to a close range, though the concentrated wave of power was more than enough to severely damage anything in its path. If Amani were unable to avoid the attack, she would likely be knocked unconscious.

 

[Amani Serys]

Centin Tillo | Risen

The crack of bone did not go unnoticed by Amani as her swing made contact. She had a lapse in focus, her desire to complete her mission conflicting with her concern for her friend. Centin surrendered, and she sighed in relief. It was over, they could stop this before it went any further. Maybe she could help him understand. If he had come out this far to stop her, it was fair that he deserved a deeper explanation. She could help him heal his arm somewhat. It was the least she could do before she left.

“Alright Amani. I’m too injured to fight now.”

"Centin. You have to let me go."

He took a step closer. Amani thought nothing of it. She was winding down. She was done fighting.

“How about we just call it a day then?”

"Look, I know there's a lot to-"

"Sorry."

Her eyes widened. The Force rippled out in a destructive wave, leveling the earth around them. Amani raised her hands up in defense, a Force barrier forming around her instinctively and sparing her the brunt of the attack. She skidded backwards across the mud, the sheer power behind the wave bruising her arms as she struggled against it.

As the burst dissipated, Amani stared back at Centin with disbelief. With hurt. Betrayal. She turned that hurt into anger. She turned that anger into strength. Amani raised her hand into the air, throwing it downard as she hammered into him with the Force. He didn't have the defense for it, she knew that, and she stopped caring. Slamming him onto his back and pinning him to the ground, Amani sprang forward and landed with a foot on his chest. She swung her pike outward, igniting the blade next to his neck. Not its usual cyan color,

But a dark and corrupted red.

The angry hum of the weapon was accompanied by the sizzle of rain against the beam of energy, held so dangerously close to Centin's throat. Amani glared at him with an intense fury, eyes glowing radioactive yellow. And as quickly as it came, it fell. The glow in her eyes faded, a look of realization and dawning horror spread across her face as she put everything together. What she had done. What she had almost done. Amani released her hold, "...I'm sorry." She stepped back, looking at the palms of her hands.

"I-I'm sorry."

 

[Centin Tillo]

Amani Serys Risen

Her foot pressed against his chest and prevented any chance of him getting up to stop her. It’s not like he could’ve even if he wanted to, though. She had slammed him into the ground with a power he didn’t even know she possessed and now he was entirely at her mercy.

Amani’s eyes began to yellow as she produced a new saber from her pike and held it to his neck. Well, not entirely new. Now it was red.

Centin’s own eyes grew wide at the sight. He stared up at her in a mix of shock, disbelief, and fear. Did she actually intend to hurt him?

He got some sort of answer as she began to apologize and stepped back off of the grounded padawan. He took the opportunity to weakly scramble away, never taking his eyes off Amani.

Was she actually going to do it? Did she only just manage to stop herself?

A dozen questions raced through his mind as he replayed what happened only moments ago, ending on a question that held an odd sense of finality.

Where do we go from here?

The boy looked over at his master for some sense of direction.

 

[Risen]

Amani Serys Centin Tillo

One step.

Rain beat down hard on the jumper, on the home, on the padawans, all separated as though by a curtain except for the bleary moonlight and the jagged red glow of innocence lost. It was one step, one step towards the girl who hoped she hadn’t gone too far, towards the boy on the ground crushed by the weight of his mission.

This was new anger that Risen felt, new indignation, a defeat that wasn’t his but was also his. Brutality like a heavy boot had broken weeks of training, the glasswork of form and instinct and decision that would one day turn a padawan into a story. Centin looked for direction, but there was only one direction. One step, forward, and then another.

He was too injured to fight. Amani had bludgeoned him with the full force of her purpose, cast him away like dice. Pain made her forget. It was one step from the edge of darkness, a place Risen had stood before, a place everyone stands sooner or later. And you know then, and forever, that evil isn’t a line in the sand, that evil is the edge of a deepening cliff, and one step can mean falling and falling and never going back, and never taking another step, forward or backward, at all.

Risen had come with Centin because he had to be there when the boy learned it. When he learned that there is a kind of promise you can’t come back from, a promise you make to yourself. The rains of Tython fell on their lesson.

That lesson was over.

Pale blue light mingled with evening mist, from the eyes, from the spear, from the corners of the mouth. Risen walked slowly towards Amani — not slow like the dripping of a faucet, slow like the march of hours. Because she had chosen her path.

Because he had chosen his.

 

[Amani Serys]

Risen | Centin Tillo

Amani stared back at Centin. She saw the fear in his eyes. The lack of recognition. Like she was someone else. “I’m sorry. I-I didn’t mean it.”

Another presence made itself known. The Knight. He stepped forward, wreathed in blue. There was power there, and she feared it. “Just-- Just let me go! I have to do this!” Amani pleaded, hoping to appeal to a sense of duty, “I need to make things right! I need to save her!” It was like arguing with a statue. There was no sign of emotion on his face.

The thunder roared louder, the rain beat down harder. She tried to back away towards her ship, never turning away from the imposing figure now between her and Centin. She spoke with a false confidence, betrayed by the shaking in her voice, “I’m leaving. This doesn’t need to get worse.”

A bolt of lightning struck down behind her, the deafening crack of thunder resounded throughout the valley. Amani flinched in surprise, the booming blast shaking her to the core. Tython was angry. Or she was.

 

[Risen]

Amani Serys Centin Tillo

In that flash of lightning, Risen was already upon her.

The witches called it “ghost walking.” The adept must conceal their presence at the moment of approach, then move faster than the eye can see: an opponent tracking their signature in the Force will sense no motion over short distances. To the untrained eye, Risen would appear in the air as the lightning cleared, spear held high in a leaping thrust, as though the movement were instantaneous.

His training told him that the best move would be a quick strike with the wan-shen, but — Allya’s name, he wasn’t going to stab the kid. He used the weapon as a feint, striking underhand with the heel of his palm.

The plan was simple: stick to Amani. He would dash to close the distance as soon as he touched ground, again and again, trading attack speed for hammering, Force-assisted blows. From the fight with Centin, he could tell that her barriers were strong. Risen was going to test that strength.

 

[Amani Serys]

Risen | Centin Tillo

In the flash of light, Risen was upon her. If it weren’t for the Force guiding her senses, she would have had no chance to react to his attack. The glint of the Knight’s blade in the moonlight hit her eye, survival instinct kicking at the sight. A lethal strike never came, and instead Amani found herself quickly thrown on the defensive.

He was fast. Faster than her. Even as he slowed onslaught in favor of heavier strikes, it was clear she couldn’t keep up with this level of skill. Her aptitude for Soresu granted her the staying power, but more and more hits managed to slip through as her defense weakened in her panic.

Another heavy strike sent her pike flying, the red blade extinguishing and the haft rolled to the ground. His follow up attack was met with a powerful Force barrier, energies colliding, creating a tremor in the air around them. “Leave... me... alone!” Another powerful Force burst exploded outward from the barrier, capable of launching Risen backwards, but dissolving her barrier in the process.

Amani’s arms slumped to her sides as she tried to stumble backwards towards her ship. The girl tripped over the mud, landing on her hands and knees and sending her into another panic. Scrambling up to her feet, the Knight would see her stand her ground this time. Eyes began to flicker back and forth between teal and yellow, and the aura around her shook with the Force; bits of earth, mud, anything not rooted to the ground within a few feet of her, began to levitate steadily into the air. "Just leave me alone." Another flash of lightning. Another crack of thunder. Rain beating down harder than she’d ever felt, the wind whipping up clothes and hair relentlessly. Tython screamed.

 

[Risen]

Amani Serys Centin Tillo

Risen wheeled a wide backflip, thrown ten, fifteen yards by the force of the blast. The wind blew him sideways half that. He landed on his feet, but stumbled. Amani’s power was surprising, terrifying, growing by the second while the storm over Tython shrieked in response. Had she already given so much of herself to the night?

In this squall, his movement was drunken. It would be hard to keep pressure if whatever it was that pained this planet kept building. And it was building.

Horribly through sheets of rain, Risen saw her floating hair, her flashing eyes. Energy peeled off of her in directionless ribbons. He sensed it. It registered like primal instinct and incandescent rage, like noise and fire. By impulse Risen took in more Force, as though bracing himself for a charging beast. He forgot the mission, to save Amani, while every cell drove him to eliminate the threat.

The feeling passed. She was still searching, her power still growing. There was a time to stop this, and it was now, while the barrier was down and her strength was incubating.

Risen ran in bounding strides — he couldn’t ghost walk in this storm — and concentrated power in his legs. He leapt towards Amani with a battlecry, his spear extended. A blow that would injure her, yes, but also incapacitate her.

One last strike, and she would recover at the Silver Rest.

 

[Amani Serys]

Risen | Centin Tillo

Risen charged forward with blinding speed, spear in hand. His motive had changed, Amani could sense the intent behind his actions in the way he drove himself. Something about seeing it managed to trigger the opposite in her. The padawan’s posture relaxed, and her flashing eyes settled once again into their original color. A sense of calm washed over her as she breathed out, though the power within stayed the same. The wind died down, the rainstorm slowing to a near halt in tandem.

Time to make it count.

He was a more skilled fighter than she, but this moment could be turned on him. Amani may not be a duelist, but her martial artistry was adept in its own right. Her efforts could be combined into a single, concise attack that would end this here and now. As the Knight leapt at her, points in the Force began to manifest on his form. Small. Alone they were insignificant. But all together, they could be taken down. Her Stava training would help bring it into effect.

Risen’s spear struck down, only for Amani to sidestep the attack at the last moment. In an instant, she countered. Each miniscule shatterpoint was struck with a precise and powerful blow. With every successful attack, Risen’s pressure points would undergo a temporary paralysis of sorts, and even his connection to the Force would be dampened. Amani glided around him, relentlessly assaulting every Shatterpoint she found, until finally rounding back to his front, she raised her palm for the finishing blow. She clenched her hand into a tightly-coiled fist, and Risen would feel his connection to the Force severed entirely. Like an entire sense had been removed from his being, and torn away from him temporarily. The display alone was disorienting enough,and if it worked, this fight would finally be over.

Amani stepped back, panting for air as she waited to see her work unfold. It had to stop. For everyone’s sake.

 

[Risen]

Amani Serys Centin Tillo

Risen stayed standing. Always standing. Even when everyone around him fell, even when he wished he didn’t, Risen stood.

He just couldn’t move.

Dim, gray rain fell lightly on his shuddering body. Cold. Everything was cold. He couldn’t breathe, like his lungs weren’t full of air or water but ice, solid and splintering and—

It was hell. Worse than a hundred years of hyperspace sickness, worse than every scar on Risen’s rain-slick skin. His eyes no longer glowed, his heart hardly beat. There was only the limited field of his tunnelling vision, stuck straight forward, that watched Amani step back. Was it all a trick? Had she planned this? Surprise mingled with anger, water with blood.

No.

Shock paralyzed Risen. He’d trained for years, for almost his whole life, to be a part of the Force. Outside of it, he felt nothing. He was nothing. But night could take the shock, the pain, the void. All of it.

Impossibly, he took a step forward.

Amani — whoever she was to Centin, friend or ally, whatever she was among Jedi — she’d betrayed it. He stepped forward again, glowering. Reasons didn’t matter. She had a unit. She had comrades. And she made the most loathsome choice she could have made.

Risen toppled to one knee. He tried to steady himself on his spear, but its blade sank into the wet earth. All he could do in the face of torturous defeat was speak one word:

“Traitor.”

Only, he had no breath to say it plainly. That voice was not his own, deep and breathy.

It was a strident, damning rasp.

 

[Amani Serys]

Amani nearly tumbled back as she took another step away, watching in awe as Risen powered through the flurry of strikes, still moving, as slow as it was now. Finally he had fallen to his knees, and she could relax knowing the fight was over. She wanted to offer a hand, to make amends, but she knew that wasn’t a choice anymore. Not now. “You didn’t give me a choice…” Amani panted, readying to turn around when,

“Traitor.”

The single word hit her like a gunshot. It echoed through the valley as loud as any thunderstrike had before, but now as the storm had died down, that word was the only thing she could hear.

Traitor.

“N-no…” Amani’s lip quivered, she tried to hold back her tears to no avail. “That’s not… true…” She looked back at Centin, still lying on the ground, her gaze drifting across the full field of battle now as she came to realize everything that she had done. Was it true? “I’m sorry…” The mirialan turned away, climbing aboard her ship and leaving as quick as she could. Amani afforded them one final look as her ship rose into the air, and blasted off into the night sky above.

Risen | Centin Tillo​