Private Grounded

[Mykel Dawson]

Previous Relevant Threads:

Roots of Ashla - In his first mission with New Jedi Order, Mykel and his master help establish a Mess Hall for the New Tython Settlement, and later assist other Jedi in eliminating a local Drengir infestation.

A Path Forward - The New Jedi Order are called to a conclave by the Grandmaster to decide the future home of the NJO following the Galactic Alliance reclaiming Tython. It's here where he meets Corazona von Ascania. They both pledge to assist in restoring Tython as the NJO begins its transition from Coruscant.

The sun hadn't yet clawed its way above the treeline, but the settlement was already stirring.

Mykel sat at a table just outside the front of the dormitory assigned to the Jedi volunteers, a stripped circuit board laid out on the table and a half-eaten apple slowly browning on the side. One of the control modules for the osmotic generators for the kitchen pantries glitching from the night before. It was nothing urgent, but it had pulled at his attention like a loose thread. So he'd brought the faulty piece back with him.

This was how he meditated, his hands moving, mind occupied. He'd tried sitting still before like his parents and Master Vexis had instructed. Letting thoughts pass like clouds. Bringing his full focus into the moment and stifling his neuroticisms. It never worked. His thoughts had claws. So it was better to keep his mind full than clear.

He held the circuit board lightly between his fingers, brushing its surface with a whisper of the Force. Letting it speak.

Not in words, more like impressions. A pulse here, a static shiver there. He could feel the stress lines across its wiring, the places where current had burned hot or connections faltered. A cold patch near the regulator. That's where the fault was. He clicked his tongue, almost fondly.

"Sloppy," he murmured, and began tightening the leads.

A tiny spark blinked at him, like a thank-you. He gave the board a short nod. "Better."

He leaned back then, letting his eyes drift from his hands to the settlement beyond.

Already the day crews were moving. Construction workers with heavy tool belts slung over one shoulder, loaders rumbling to life, someone setting up a vendor cart near the walkway with caf and sweetbread, the first signs of private commerce blooming. The streets, once little more than bumpy lanes of packed mud, had taken shape, real paved roads now, bordered by prefab storefronts and early homes. The bones of a community.

The settlement was growing.

Usually he would be there building right along with the others, but not today.

The Drengir were gone...mostly. The threat itself had been dealt with, but the forest was still captured by their dark essence, a miasma in the Force. The epicenter being the den of their first spawning. A final cleansing was needed, but one that wouldn't come about by the blaster or blade.

He wasn't going alone.

Corazona.

He first met her on Coruscant – a friendly voice amid the sea of strangers at the conclave. He hadn't known who she was then, but now he did. A Jedi Knight - a member Jedi Council no less! Also a leading political figure in the Galactic Alliance at large. He had figured she had been someone of importance by the way she had carried herself back then, but he truly had no idea.

And now, his partner for the mission.

To say he felt nervous was an understatement, hence all the tinkering at the moment. Her role was essentially teaching aspirants like him as the Caretaker of First Knowledge, and she had shown him nothing but kindness since their first encounter. Still, he felt unworthy to be noticed by such an impressive figure.

He checked his watch. Fifteen minutes to 0800. Soon.

Until then, back to tinkering.

Corazona von Ascania

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

Corazona had risen early, spending the better part of an hour pouring over maps and documents atop the tiny wooden desk she'd been afforded.

She'd organized the initial purge of the drengir, but it hadn't been enough. Stragglers persisted, leading to a second mission. Now, there were troubling rumors that they hadn't yet removed all of the weeds.

Frustration tickled the edges of her mind. Cora allowed it to flow through her, then out. Tython being steeped in the dark had created an environment for the drengir to thrive. Restoring balance would take time.

The thermos of caf perched on the edge of the desk went untouched. It was cold by the time she'd managed to tear herself from
preparations.

At least, the caf offered by the makeshift cart was hot. Run by a mother and daughter, they'd begun to settle and put down roots after being subjected to the chaotic lives of refugees.

Cora had initially declined the sweetbread, but after seeing the look on the little girl's face, dug back into her pocket to retrieve a few more credits.

The morning air was crisp. Cora drew in the scent of wood and adhesives, a sign of the new construction. She was reminded of Ukatis, of the new growth in the wake of the Mandalorian Enclave's invasion, as she meandered her way toward Mykel.

Padawan Dawson was a serious young man. Polite, too, which she appreciated. He'd stepped forward to volunteer for the healing of Ashla, but another task loomed before them first.

She watched as he tinkered with the circuit board, guiding diagnostics and repair through the Force. A smile tugged at one corner of her lips, which she hid behind the rim of the caf cup while taking a sip. Manipulating technology was not an ability that came easily to her. It was always fascinating to witness someone with an affinity for it.

"Good morning, Padawan Dawson." Cora lowered her cup and tilted her head toward the apple. "Have you eaten yet?"

Mykel Dawson

 

[Mykel Dawson]

Jedi Robes

Mykel had become so absorbed in his work, now well into the final reassembly of the module, that he barely registered his surroundings. When Corazona greeted him, he jumped slightly his seat, though quickly relaxed at the familiar sound of her voice.

His extraordinary Jedi senses only worked when he was paying attention.

Gingerly, he set the electronics aside and wiped his hands on a rag before rising to greet her with a respectful bow.

"Good morning, Master von Ascania," he said after straightening up, then glanced down at the half-eaten apple and offered a sheepish grin. "Guess you could say I had a good start, heh."

The ethereal blonde was still as radiant as the first time he saw her, looking plenty satisfied with the contents of her cup. She looked like she had stepped out of one of his old fantasy novels in her elegant robes and well manicured appearance. Probably the closest he would ever get to a princess. He was still a little awestruck by her, but he kept his bearing.

This time, though, away from the bustle of the crowded conclave, he noticed things he hadn't before. The prosthetic hand (had it been gloved before?) with gleaming skeletal digits he could feel and see fused seamlessly into the rest of her arm in a fine symphony of flesh and machine. The fusion was beautiful in such a way that could really only be appreciated by a technopath. From there, fine dark lines branched from her wrist upward, disappearing into her sleeve. A long white scar marked her cheek.

Her blemishes didn't make her seem less than what he had remembered. Just… more grounded. Approachable.

He looked away before he lingered too long, hazel eyes drifting back to the half-assembled module on the table.

"Unfortunately, duty called," he said with a small shrug. "Once I get started on a project, it's hard to ignore the itch until it's done."

Corazona von Ascania

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

Cora answered Mykel's bow with a slow nod of her head. Her gaze panned from the Padawan – a good head taller than her – to the browning apple that sat on the table. Then, to the project he'd been tinkering with.

If she'd noticed his attention lingering on the bare mechanical digits of her right hand, she didn't comment. Cora often wore gloves, especially when working in a more public-facing or diplomatic capacity. Today, she hadn't felt the need to hide her prosthetic.

"Here," she offered him the sweetbread purchased earlier at the behest of a pair of doe eyes. The little girl's face would linger in her mind for quite some time. "You'll need the energy. Do not neglect your needs."

A soft smile blunted her words, kindly as they were. For better or for worse, Cora found herself rather protective over Padawans and younglings. They were the future of the Order – they would help shape the future of the galaxy, and the galaxy could be a cruel place.

Cora inhaled, slow and deep. The air on Tython was easier to breathe than when she'd first arrived. Slowly, the veil of the dark was beginning to recede. When she next peered at the partially disassembled device on the table, it was with a measure of curiosity.

"What is it that you've been working on?"

Mykel Dawson

 

[Mykel Dawson]

In that moment, her gentle firmness reminded him of exactly something his mother would say when he had gotten lost in one of his projects at home. Despite her insistence, however, he still felt a little shy eating in front of her on the spot. Still, it would be even ruder to refuse her hospitality.

"Thank you," he said softly while accepting the bread.

It was fluffy and airy in his fingers, already a good sign. He was delighted to bite into it and find a buttery richness, paired with ribbons of dulce de leche, sweet but not overpowering. He could also detect a hint of nutmeg for added warmth. It was divine!

He wanted to tell her how good it was - and apologize for robbing her of such a delectable treat - but he found Corazona's eyes closed as she was engaged in some breathing exercise. He opted not to disturb her and turned slightly off to the side to quickly devour the rest of the sweet bread.

Eventually, she'd come back with a question upon his work, which made him perk up in excitement. No matter how mundane the task, he was always eager to talk shop.

On the table, the last pieces of the module snapped together under the invisible hand of the Force. Then the completed piece rose and arced right into his outstretched palm as he turned to face her again.

"This?" He pointed. "It's an osmotic field generator. We use them in the kitchen to preserve product in cold storage and to keep dishes warm prior to service. They're also handy in keeping away pests. It was my idea to use them in the mess hall after I saw the way the triage team had set them up for the medbay."

Corazona von Ascania

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

The soft, almost spongy sounds of the bread being consumed tickled her ears. A slow smile began to tug at her lips as her eyes fluttered open. Corazona was the eldest of nine siblings. Perhaps that also played into her innate fondness for Padawans. Watching them learn and grow – and even just be – reminded her a little of home.

Of what she'd left behind.

That reprieve was broken with a snap! as the components of the device clicked in to place. She peered at the newly completed module in Mykel's hand with curiosity.

"Was it now? A fine idea." The knight raised her cup for a cursory sip of caf. "Repurposing a piece of equipment to fit the needs of your environment is a good skill to have. The kitchen staff must be pleased."

Cora let her gaze drift from the osmotic generator to some of the prefab housing units. Civilians milled about, their features lost as she stared off into the middle distance for a long moment. What horrors had they survived under the Dark Empire's rule? And yet, they persisted.

She quickly brought her gaze back to Mykel. There was a task to be done, after all.

"Are you ready to depart? We'll be making our way to where we've mapped the drengir nest to be, to cleanse what remains of the dark."

It had taken several sweeps to clear the twisted botanical creatures, but even now they couldn't be certain that Tython was rid of them. Every weed needed to be yanked from its roots, lest they be left to multiply.

"You were apart of one of the strike teams going after the drengir, correct?"

Mykel Dawson

 

[Mykel Dawson]

"Speaking as a member of the kitchen staff, we are very pleased," Mykel said with a light chuckle. "The critters around the camp were having a field day with the foodstuffs until we installed them. Uninvited guests among the refugee ships."

He spoke of the incidents with tone of levity, although he was privy to hushed but ongoing commentary among some Jedi who were less...enthusiastic about the influx of civilians onto the planet. With foreign sentients (including himself) came invasive species of disparate varieties. Perhaps even more invasive minds to add to the churn of the psionic dissonance of an already choleric world.

Could the spiritual equilibrium that the Jedi desired for Tython and Ashla be reestablished amid the rise of a new major civilization with divergent priorities rooted in material hungers?

He nodded as she asked about his readiness to depart, even if he wasn't quite sure what all the cleansing process would entail. Kaldor had explained the basic process from experience, and Mykel had researched what he could, but theory and application were two different things.

"I am," he replied, grabbing his satchel from the table bench. The glint of a double barrel poked out of the top as he opened the bag to stuff away the generator. He'd deliver it back to the mess hall after the mission. "I figured we could take a speeder over to the eastern perimeter, then hoof it the rest of the way? I'll have to work off this sweet roll before I get rolls of my own." As he gradually felt more comfortable around Corazona, more of his natural humor started to spill out in his speech.

He recalled his first field operation with the New Jedi Order to dispatch the hives of the carnivorous plants as she asked about the event.

"Unintentionally," he admitted. "Originally, my primary tasking was establishing public dining facilities and optimizing the distribution of supplementary rations across the settlement." Initially, he had bemoaned his master about being stuck with such a seemingly mundane task, but the Consular did not budge, and Mykel turned out to be quite gifted with logistics and administration in the end. That came from his parents, who never let him and his siblings slouch when it came to contributing to the Enclave. "Everything was going well, until some of my staff went missing during their delivery runs. That's how I ended up in the forest clashing against the Drengir to recover them. With Grandmaster Noble, no less."

Recounting after the fact, he could be amazed about fighting shoulder to shoulder with the Sword of the Jedi on his first mission - though at the time idolization and awe was the last thing on his mind. Back then he had been nearly consumed by psychic tug of war against the Drengir while in a frantic race to save the kidnapped soldiers.

His expression sobered in quiet reflection. "It was quite an...instructive experience."

Corazona von Ascania

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

"Ah, a chef among us." Her comment came with a note of levity, even as her focus darted briefly toward the glint of a blaster barrel as Mykel deposited the generator into his bag.

Both corners of her lips ticked upward in an amused little smile. "Rolls or not, that is a fine idea."

There was a subtle shift in the air around them as the Padawan spoke of his encounter with the drengir. Cora's gaze was fixed on him now, the sort of expression that held both focus and concern without being invasive.

"I see," she sighed. "I'm sorry that happened to you and your staff. I…lead the initial drengir hunt when we first came back to Tython. It seems that the weeds were harder to root out than initially anticipated."

Something of a failure on her part, and it had taken a conscious effort to push past the guilt, lest it weigh on her so heavily that it dragged her to inaction. Fortunately, these encounters had given them more information to work with.

Once Mykel was packed, the pair would begin their walk towards the speeder parking. Makeshift, as most things were in the infancy of a settlement.

"I suppose that I don't need to give you the rundown on combating drengir, should we come across any - how most blasters are useless, and they can heal themselves from saber wounds and regenerate lost limbs easily."

Cora climbed into the passenger seat of the speeder, rolling her wrist in a vague gesture as she spoke. It was hard for her to resist a little lecture.

"You'll be our chauffeur for this mission." It never hurt to get driving practice in, and to be frank - it was not something she particularly enjoyed. "The staff that you went after - are they alright?"

Mykel Dawson

 

[Mykel Dawson]

He nodded as she reminded him of the Drengir's durability against conventional arms. He witnessed their toughness firsthand when he had seemingly tore into one with blaster cannon fire, only for the abomination to immediately shrug off the attack and lash out.

"I had a chance to do my homework on the Drengir before facing them, so I figured I'd come at them with cryo-weapons. It worked! Their regenerative capabilities are immediately shut down as cellular activity is halted. Then the cells themselves are completely destroyed as their high water content expands and ruptures the cell walls as ice. Though today, for a more confined space, I brought something different, compliments of my dad."

Mykel loved to nerd out and gush about his experiments. Usually, he tried to be more reserved - especially around more dogmatic Jedi who clung to their lightsabers like a youngling with their cherished blanket - but he felt comfortable discussing his innovations with the Caretaker of Knowledge, expecting her to be more open-minded.

He chuckled as she had designated him the driver. It didn't surprise him - she gave him the passenger princess vibe. She was practically royalty, after all.

"Oh," he continued as he hopped into the driver's side and took off down the mostly empty street with a gentle tap of the pedal. "In case you do find yourself without special purpose weapons to dispatch the Drengir, I came up with a little trick. I was inspired by the operation of some training sabers. If you lower the output of the plasma emitter of the blade, and then boost the electromagnetic containment field in turn, you're left with a mighty fine radiation weapon that cooks a Drengir like a microwave without allowing it to regenerate.

He grinned, before adding with a wink, "Just... don't hold it too close to your own skin, or you might end up like fried chicken."

He immediately regretted his joke it as he caught the gleam of her prosthetic. Ah great, let's joke about self immolation with the torture victim. She may have not even thought anything about it, but as teenage minds did, he still overacted in his head anyway.

Fortunately. her next question gave him an out from his spiraling, thinking about more important matters.

"Corporal Veil and Private Hallick? The rescue operation was successful. Physically they were stable with no apparent injuries. Mentally, however, they were a gibbering mess - their minds completely shattered by whatever mental torture they incurred. We later found their systems flooded with neurotoxins. They may require weeks of intense psychotherapy, but even then they may not be the same." He sighed, it still felt like a loss even if they were still alive and safe. "Right now they're on the Boram being treated by healers from my enclave. They're also examining the toxins for future inoculation."

"The existence of these Drengir truly trouble me. Like Sith Purebloods, they seem to be predisposed to embracing the Dark Side. I'd go a step further and say that they revel in the Dark Side in such a way that even spooked the ancient Sith. What conditions were necessary to spawn such an inherently chaotic race?"

He held back on what he really wanted to say - bothered by the idea that the Drengir were enabled by the Will of Force itself.

Corazona von Ascania

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

"Lysing cells using cryogenic weaponry," she summarized thoughtfully. It wasn't immediately clear whether or not she approved or disapproved. One finely manicured brow lifted at the concept of literally cooking a Drengir by modifying the outputs of a training saber.

To his wink, her other brow rose. Cora let out a hm.

"Unconventional yet effective," she conceded. "That's a clever use of a training saber, if dangerous. But, Drengir are dangerous too. I'm glad to hear that everyone made it out alive. The healers do good work."

Cora had come from a culture whose core tenants were rooted in loyalty to tradition. Innovative thinking was often ignored, ridiculed, or something worse. As much as she loved her lesson plans, she did her best to foster creativity.

After all, the galaxy was constantly changing. Jedi came from all walks of life, and that was a good thing. A blend of experiences kept them from stagnating.

She tsked and placed a hand - her organic one - against her cheek. "I'm afraid even the most intensive of skincare routines would not be able to save me from burning to a crisp."

Gradually, the signs of progress began to wane the further they drove. Makeshift housing trickled into the greenery of the jungle, and before long they were surrounded by thick foliage.

Mykel was bright. A clever young man with a penchant for technology and a sharp mind; she just hoped that it wouldn't lead him into trouble. Cora's gaze flicked from the blur of the forest to the Padawan as he mentioned the Drengir's troubling presence.

"The more we learn, the more we realize what we do not know. Perhaps, we'll never truly know what circumstances gave rise to them.”

There was a wistful, almost wry note to the way she spoke. "Though they may have been physically destroyed, Drengir are steeped in darkness from the time their seeds are planted - and that darkness still lingers here. If it is not purged, it'll only create a more hospitable environment for them to regenerate."

With her caf now in the speeder's cup holder, she sat with her ankles crossed as her hands clasped in her lap. Some habits were truly difficult to break.

"We have little information regarding the specifics of what the Dark Empire did to Tython during the time they held it. When we arrived at the temple to chase away their remnants, it felt no different than that of an ancient Sith world. Bathed in anger and dread and hatred."

Cora's lips pursed, recalling how heavily the dark had felt on her shoulders. Almost strangling, like a thick blanket trying to smother her.

"I do hope that we've truly slain all of the Drengir, and all that will be left is to cleanse their nest. But, it doesn't hurt to be cautious - you said you brought something different?"

Mykel Dawson

 

[Mykel Dawson]

By her pointed responses, he could see how she had become the Caretaker of Knowledge. She wasn't just wise in the ways of the Jedi, but also well learned in the natural sciences as well.

Unfortunately, even she didn't have the answers that he desired on the origins of Drengir. No, rather the origins of their evil. It was disturbing to the Padawan to even consider that the Force would allow the Dark Side to flourish and prevail so freely. Was that what 'balance' really was? Anakin was meant to bring balance to Force, and eventually he did - but only after cutting a long bloody swath through the Jedi as a Sith Lord.

...What immortal hand or eye, could frame thy fearful symmetry?

He brightened a bit as she asked him about his latest countermeasure.

"Why yes. This time, instead of condensates, I hit them with space-time, with a dash of gamma radiation." He quickly stole a glance at the satchel between his feet. "When my dad was little older than me, he had the crazy idea essentially build a pocket hyperspace cannon. That was mostly for the Bryn'adul who ate blasters and lightsabers like candy. The 'shotgun' rapidly shunts hypermatter to induce a wave of gravity shears. I probably don't have to tell you what happens to anything on the other side of that kind of damage. Instant necrosis is the least terrifying aspect."

"Being a romantic, he called it Kessel's Kiss, as he initially gathered the hypermatter - coaxium - from Kessel. As it turns out, that planet isn't only good for a spice fix."

Fledgling civilization had finally come to an end at the eastern perimeter checkpoint, and with it their little road trip. He parked the speeder amid some GADF fighter tanks, then quickly hopped over his door and came around to the passenger side lickity split - all so he could beat Corazona to opening her door.

"I hope you enjoyed your ride with Dawson Taxi Services," he bowed slightly while speaking in the most exaggerated nasally posh imperial accent he could muster. "I certainly enjoyed being your chauffer today."

Corazona von Ascania

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

"I suppose it's true what they say; necessity is the mother of invention. The Bryn'adul needed to be stopped."

The concept of a pocket sized hyperspace cannon unnerved her. To Corazona, that was not the type of weapon a Jedi should wield. At the same time, they needed to evolve their ways with the galaxy.

"Not the sort of kiss most would like to receive, I'd imagine - but I don't think that you'll be needing such a destructive weapon today. Even if we do encounter Drengir, there are ways to combat them in the Force."

Still, it wasn't exactly the type of thing you'd just leave sitting on the floor of a vehicle. The speeder rumbled to a halt, and before she could exit - Mykel was there, holding the door open for her.

"Oh," A smile began to crack from one corner of her lips. Cora exited with a graceful tilt of her head to the chauffeur. "Thank you, Sir. Five stars."

The swath of forest that stretched before them had benefited from the Jedi's presence. Cora paced over to a nearby tree, and placed her flesh hand against its bark.

"When we first arrived here, the forest was not well. Drengir have a habit of siphoning life from those around them, and that includes foliage. The forest has begun to heal, but something…still…"

With her knack for plant surge, she was able to extend her senses along the roots of the tree. Those roots intertwined with those around them, creating an underground network not unlike a neural pathway. Cora's brow creased in concentration as she spread her awareness along the tangle of plant life. It allowed her to see the forest like a map - not a perfect one, but enough to get a sense of general landmarks.

"Up ahead," she said after several long moments of silence. "The nest is roughly a mile ahead. I can't discern whether or not it's still populated, but it's not teeming with life, Drengir or otherwise."

Cora withdrew her palm from the tree and looked to Mykel.

"We'd best get moving. Tell me, has your Master taught you to use Force Light?"

Mykel Dawson

 

[Mykel Dawson]

Grinning, he circled back to the driver's side, grabbing his satchel and following the her into the forest.

Thus far, the journey to the nest had been a smooth experience, but the moment they stepped through the checkpoint and into the forest proper the whole energy changed. The Drengir may have been wiped away, but their darkness still lingered in the forest like a rancid musk, raising goosebumps on his neck, smile quickly fading.

It didn't help when Corazona broached a sensitive subject with her next question.

"Force Light..." Mykel repeated softly, eyes darting as he took stock of their surroundings. There were scorch marks and impact craters scarring the forest where the Drengir had attempted to breach the settlement en masse.

"I can...but not easily," he started to explain. "Perhaps when I'm meditating in the temple, it comes to me at times, but in the field, I've found it hard to concentrate."

embarrassment

Unlike when he was explaining technology, his voice lacked such confidence when discussing the more ethereal aspects of the Force, closer to mumbling.

unfocused

He reached under his collar, pulling out his mother's pendant, the crystals glowing softly with imbued Force Light. "My mother was given this when she was still with the Silver Jedi, then she passed it on in hopes of me getting a better feel for wielding the Light on my own, but I daresay I've come to depend on it as a crutch. I've tried to listened to her advice, and my master's, but it's still very difficult for me. I was hoping that I could finally crack that nut with you."

lightless

He kept it to himself what happened when he tried to summon Force Light on his own, thinking about the discharge marks that snaked up her arm. Bright energy had surged from his fingertips then, but not the kind he ever wanted. It was a secret he kept to himself. He never wanted to be compared to the Sith in any way.

FAILURE​

He stopped in his tracks, the whispers in his mind becoming stronger with each step that brought them closer to the cave. They always came in his voice, but distorted like crackling static. Even as he clasped the shards of light in his hand, he felt no relief. In direct battle against the Drengir the last time, he had benefitted from the strong presence of both the Grandmaster and Kaldor standing as bastions of light against their evil, the latter applying Force Light in such a way as to temporarily disrupt the hive's connection. Now he had neither.

"Apologies," he spoke with a voice barely above a whisper, trying to compose himself before walking again.

Corazona von Ascania

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

Cora remained quiet yet engaged. She gave Mykel the space he needed to speak, to put words to the troubled shift in his aura.

When he withdrew the pendant from his tunic, she turned her gaze to the crystals. They pulsed with a gentle light, imparting a steady thrum in the Force.

Her gaze flicked back up to Mykel, and she smiled tenderly despite the unsettling tremors in the Force. She felt the shape of his doubt, but lacked specifics. Probing his mind was out of the question. He could tell her as little or as much as he pleased.

"We each have our strengths and weaknesses. You for example, are a tech whiz. That sort of thing never came easily to me."

Behind her, the sound Mykel's footfalls halted with the soft crunch of dried grass beneath his boot. Cora stopped, glanced over her shoulder, then half turned toward him.

"Take what time you need."

Her lips tilted into a faint, but ultimately pensive frown as her brows furrowed in concern. Tendrils of darkness brushed against her mind, searching for cracks in her psyche. Cora would not let them find purchase.

"They cannot hurt you," she spoke quietly. "If you do not let them. For many of us, it takes practice. What happens when you try and wield the Light?"

Mykel Dawson