ʀᴇᴘᴇɴᴛᴀɴᴄᴇ
B E G I N N I N G S
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Valery Noble
Solitude.
It would seem that nothing but the punishment of loneliness would ever bring peace to his darkened soul. It was an escape. Here, on Spintir and lost in the very heart of its wilderness, he could try to outrun the ghosts that haunted him. Busy hands made for a busy mind, and the venomous whispers of the Darkside that would forever sing lullabies to his ear were easier to ignore when his thoughts could not cling to them. It still permeated every inch of his being, his presence was still nothing but the most daunting void threatening to consume every flicker of light around him. Dangerous, unpredictable, corrupt. The only thing that had changed was his willingness to give in to the wants of the shadows, he did not channel it, did not allow himself to get lost in it, did not allow the immense power that it had granted it to come afloat and catch fire in ire and hatred.
And he was punished for it.
Breathing alone was a draining task. All he wanted to do was sleep and give in to the dark currents of the Force, but he would not. Pained, feeling weak even his hands still held the strength to crush bone, carrying an exhaustion that no amount of slumber would chase away...that was his everyday, silent life here on Spintir. There was work to be done. He would wake up, hunt, tread the long path to the nearby village to trade. The locals still eyed him with wary gazes, but some had learned to like him. They already whispered stories about the mysterious masked man from the mountains, how he had come from the forbidden caves, how he was a protector - or a monster, depending on the storyteller - and how he should never be followed.
But most days, he would go up into the mountains that surrounded the humble home that he had built up from its very foundations, and then he would walk the ruined temple grounds. There the Lightside reigned strong, and it threatened to blind him - but he still tried. He tried to remain under the scorching light for as long as he could, hoping his dark soul could one day stop seeing it as threat to be snuffed out and destroyed and instead find the peace he had never known in his life. He would try to piece its crumbled pillars back together, even touching the ancient stone felt wrong. Sometimes it felt more like a hopeless dream and self imposed torture.
But that was alright, for he deserved such suffering and worse. This was his penance.
Today was another day like many. Despite the cold, harsh winds that blew on the mountain tops of Spintir, he had made his way towards the place previously known as the Dawn Temple, now reduced to a mere memory of what it once had been. The scarred skin of his upper body was exposed, but his face as always was covered in shadows and a dark fabric that hid everything but his eyes from sight. The bite of the icy winds a welcomed pain. It helped him keep his focus away from the dark thoughts that dominated the back of his mind. The Seeker's steps were heavy and slow, every fiber in his being refusing to move if not fueled by the distorted, raging emotions that the darkside demanded and writhing in pain under the influence of a place that had been touched by so much Light. He kept going, the bridle of a dark bay spintiri horse on his hand as he guided the steed through the last stretch of the mountain path. He addressed the beast besides him, "You will get rest soon..." Even his voice sounded as though it came from an injured throat, low and raspy like calm growling.
Upon arriving, he tied the horse to the same piece of fallen wall he always used, caressing its flank a few times before turning towards the temple and beginning the walk down the same path he took every day - as though he was the sentinel of a long forgotten realm. His presence was a dark curse surrounded by bright light. Little did he know today he would find something other than fallen pillars and lonely halls awaiting in the ruins.
