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Eiattu’s wind caressed the branches of the trees that overhung the courtyard of the Royal Palace which housed both the Priamsta and the Royal Family of the planet. Jasmine’s sweet aroma wafted through the air; a calming presence amid the turmoil that frantically to expound from within the former High Marshal and Deputy Minister of War. A tempest of emotional pain and agony that only seemed to grow, exponentially so, since Alden had moved to cancel a past he’d removed himself from. A past that, in his eyes, had played him, and his people, as nothing more than pawns in a quest for personal power. A reality that had since been shattered in his mind as his eyes became opened to a certain truth.
But even so. Even with the separation he drove between that past life and this one he sought to forge now, threatened to collapse. In the days since his inner awakening the mark placed upon his arm by his previous mentor that had done nothing but manipulate him for years grew more and more aggravating. The discomfort becoming unbearable. Cutting into his ability to even sleep at points.
Evidenced by the bags that hung heavy under his eyes, the terrors that wracked throughout the man’s subconscious continued to manifest. There was next to no escape. At least not by his own hand. And that is why he’d reached to the former Lord Commander of the Knights Obsidian. A man that Alden knew to be versed in a great many aspects of the Forced. And one that he hoped and prayed would be able to help remedy his situation as it continued to grow dire. And continued to threaten his sanity as it lay within the fragile balance that remained.
The whites of his eyes were flushed red with exhaustion and irritation. The band that once bound his finger lay upon the cold stone before him. He didn’t wear his prosthetic on this occasion, leaving the nub of his left shoulder wrapped in a cloth bandage, veiling the irritated skin beneath. His right hand grasped the hilt of his lightsaber, his knuckles flashing white as his grip flex upon the metallic construct. The blade did not extend and instead remained lifeless. But that was a short-lived sensation. In a mere few seconds, from his knelt position, Alden activated the weapon, its amethyst blade humming to life. The blade rotated in hand. Once turn then a second. The finally came violently down upon the cold stone with which the ring helplessly lay.
Effortlessly, the blade pierced through the ring and fractured its structural integrity. The ground flared a bright red-orange color in agony, and what was once a ring became nothing more than molten scrap and dusted crystal.
The lightsaber hissed closed in an instant and he waited.

