Seren Gwyn
White Star
Korriban had never been quiet in the way ordinary worlds understood silence. Even within the ancient walls of Varin's temple, there was always something beneath it. The faint vibration of old machinery carried through stone, wind whispered against architecture that had survived centuries of conflict, and beneath both rested the presence of the Force. The Dark Side saturated the world so completely that Seren could feel it without deliberately reaching for it, ancient and heavy, woven through the temple and the desert beyond. Once, she might have found that oppressive. Now she found herself sitting quietly with her eyes closed simply because she could feel it at all.
Her injured shoulder had been treated after Thyferra, but healing was proving considerably less cooperative than Seren would have preferred. The worst of the damage had been repaired, leaving her with the considerably more mundane requirement of allowing her body time to recover. Her arm remained supported when necessary, and certain movements sent an immediate reminder through the joint that she was not yet ready to resume anything resembling normal movement. It frustrated her, although not nearly as much as it ordinarily might have. Pain was tangible. Understandable. There was something almost comforting about a wound that hurt precisely where it was supposed to hurt.
The absence on Thyferra had been different.
Seren opened her eyes and slowly flexed the fingers of her uninjured hand, allowing a thin ribbon of shadow to gather between them. It curled obediently around her fingertips before dissolving again, and even now some irrational part of her felt relief at the simple response. She had lost the Force before only in theory, in warnings and teachings about what might happen if someone were cut off from it. None of those explanations had prepared her for the reality. There had been no distant whisper, no diminished connection, no sense that something remained just beyond her reach. There had simply been nothing. The shadows had become ordinary darkness. The lives around her had vanished from her awareness. Even her own presence had disappeared when she reached inward, searching for it.
And Varin had been gone.
Not from Thyferra. That had been the terrible part. Seren had known he was somewhere on the same world, somewhere beyond the refinery and the chaos surrounding her, fighting his own part of the battle while she fought hers. Yet when the Force vanished, and she reached across the bond they had formed and grown accustomed to, there had been absolute silence. For one terrible instant she had wondered whether the emptiness meant he was dead. Logic had eventually asserted itself. Troigs had stood directly beside her and been equally absent from her senses. The entire battlefield had become a void. Varin's absence could therefore tell her nothing about his fate, yet reason had not prevented fear from carving itself into her memory. Somewhere on Thyferra was the man she loved, surrounded by the same war that had already left her bleeding and injured, and for those moments she had possessed no way to reach through the Force and reassure herself that he was still there.
She reached through the Force now, not searching for anything in particular. She simply needed to feel it answer. It did.
Seren released a slow breath and leaned back slightly, careful of her shoulder. Yet another memory had followed her home from Thyferra, and unlike the absence of the Force, this one could not be resolved simply by confirming that everything had returned to normal.
Aiden Porte.
There had been a time when seeing the familiar glow of a Jedi's weapon across a battlefield would have meant she was standing on the same side. She remembered what it had felt like to call herself Jedi without hesitation, when the word had been something uncomplicated enough to belong to her. She remembered training beside people who believed much as Aiden did, sharing their purpose, accepting their teachings, and thinking of those who carried that title as allies almost by instinct.
On Thyferra, she had raised Voidstar against one. Worse, she had meant it.
Her fingers curled slowly against her palm. Seren could tell herself that Aiden had attacked her. She could remember being thrown into metal hard enough to damage her shoulder, the pain that followed, the blade that later came dangerously close to her abdomen. She could remind herself that war reduced complicated people to opposing sides with frightening efficiency. None of it changed the fact that she had answered him with crimson light and shadow, that there had been moments when she had been willing to hurt a Jedi because he stood between her and the side she had chosen.
She did not regret leaving the Jedi. That realization remained surprisingly firm. What troubled her was discovering that leaving them had not erased what they had once meant to her.
Seren lowered her gaze toward the dark cylinder of Voidstar resting nearby. Its blade had once been violet. Now crimson burned at its heart. Perhaps there was something almost painfully appropriate in that. She had changed, but she had not been replaced. The woman who had fought Aiden was the same woman who once would have stood beside him, and pretending otherwise would have been easier than admitting both could be true.
Her surrender had perhaps been the clearest answer she had managed to find on Thyferra. When continuing meant fighting Jedi merely because they were Jedi and she was standing with the Sith, Seren had stopped. She had placed Voidstar on broken duracrete and raised empty hands. Not because she suddenly believed herself wrong for being there, nor because she had rediscovered some buried desire to return to what she had been, but because there had to remain a difference between choosing her own path and allowing a war to decide whom she was willing to kill.
She still did not know exactly where that difference would lead her. For once, Seren was willing to leave the question unanswered.
She rose carefully, protecting the healing shoulder as she crossed deeper into Varin's temple. She had returned from Thyferra with more than an injury, and she suspected he would notice that long before she found the words to explain it. There were things she wanted to tell him about the moment the Force vanished, about knowing he was somewhere on that same battlefield and suddenly being unable to feel him at all, and things she was less certain how to explain about standing opposite someone she once would have called an ally.
The Force moved around her again, familiar and undeniable. Seren let herself feel it. Then she went looking for Varin.
Varin Mortifer
Her injured shoulder had been treated after Thyferra, but healing was proving considerably less cooperative than Seren would have preferred. The worst of the damage had been repaired, leaving her with the considerably more mundane requirement of allowing her body time to recover. Her arm remained supported when necessary, and certain movements sent an immediate reminder through the joint that she was not yet ready to resume anything resembling normal movement. It frustrated her, although not nearly as much as it ordinarily might have. Pain was tangible. Understandable. There was something almost comforting about a wound that hurt precisely where it was supposed to hurt.
The absence on Thyferra had been different.
Seren opened her eyes and slowly flexed the fingers of her uninjured hand, allowing a thin ribbon of shadow to gather between them. It curled obediently around her fingertips before dissolving again, and even now some irrational part of her felt relief at the simple response. She had lost the Force before only in theory, in warnings and teachings about what might happen if someone were cut off from it. None of those explanations had prepared her for the reality. There had been no distant whisper, no diminished connection, no sense that something remained just beyond her reach. There had simply been nothing. The shadows had become ordinary darkness. The lives around her had vanished from her awareness. Even her own presence had disappeared when she reached inward, searching for it.
And Varin had been gone.
Not from Thyferra. That had been the terrible part. Seren had known he was somewhere on the same world, somewhere beyond the refinery and the chaos surrounding her, fighting his own part of the battle while she fought hers. Yet when the Force vanished, and she reached across the bond they had formed and grown accustomed to, there had been absolute silence. For one terrible instant she had wondered whether the emptiness meant he was dead. Logic had eventually asserted itself. Troigs had stood directly beside her and been equally absent from her senses. The entire battlefield had become a void. Varin's absence could therefore tell her nothing about his fate, yet reason had not prevented fear from carving itself into her memory. Somewhere on Thyferra was the man she loved, surrounded by the same war that had already left her bleeding and injured, and for those moments she had possessed no way to reach through the Force and reassure herself that he was still there.
She reached through the Force now, not searching for anything in particular. She simply needed to feel it answer. It did.
Seren released a slow breath and leaned back slightly, careful of her shoulder. Yet another memory had followed her home from Thyferra, and unlike the absence of the Force, this one could not be resolved simply by confirming that everything had returned to normal.
Aiden Porte.
There had been a time when seeing the familiar glow of a Jedi's weapon across a battlefield would have meant she was standing on the same side. She remembered what it had felt like to call herself Jedi without hesitation, when the word had been something uncomplicated enough to belong to her. She remembered training beside people who believed much as Aiden did, sharing their purpose, accepting their teachings, and thinking of those who carried that title as allies almost by instinct.
On Thyferra, she had raised Voidstar against one. Worse, she had meant it.
Her fingers curled slowly against her palm. Seren could tell herself that Aiden had attacked her. She could remember being thrown into metal hard enough to damage her shoulder, the pain that followed, the blade that later came dangerously close to her abdomen. She could remind herself that war reduced complicated people to opposing sides with frightening efficiency. None of it changed the fact that she had answered him with crimson light and shadow, that there had been moments when she had been willing to hurt a Jedi because he stood between her and the side she had chosen.
She did not regret leaving the Jedi. That realization remained surprisingly firm. What troubled her was discovering that leaving them had not erased what they had once meant to her.
Seren lowered her gaze toward the dark cylinder of Voidstar resting nearby. Its blade had once been violet. Now crimson burned at its heart. Perhaps there was something almost painfully appropriate in that. She had changed, but she had not been replaced. The woman who had fought Aiden was the same woman who once would have stood beside him, and pretending otherwise would have been easier than admitting both could be true.
Her surrender had perhaps been the clearest answer she had managed to find on Thyferra. When continuing meant fighting Jedi merely because they were Jedi and she was standing with the Sith, Seren had stopped. She had placed Voidstar on broken duracrete and raised empty hands. Not because she suddenly believed herself wrong for being there, nor because she had rediscovered some buried desire to return to what she had been, but because there had to remain a difference between choosing her own path and allowing a war to decide whom she was willing to kill.
She still did not know exactly where that difference would lead her. For once, Seren was willing to leave the question unanswered.
She rose carefully, protecting the healing shoulder as she crossed deeper into Varin's temple. She had returned from Thyferra with more than an injury, and she suspected he would notice that long before she found the words to explain it. There were things she wanted to tell him about the moment the Force vanished, about knowing he was somewhere on that same battlefield and suddenly being unable to feel him at all, and things she was less certain how to explain about standing opposite someone she once would have called an ally.
The Force moved around her again, familiar and undeniable. Seren let herself feel it. Then she went looking for Varin.
Varin Mortifer
