Chosen Of Vahl
T * O * W * E * R * O * F * V * A * H * L
H̶͢e ̷͜s͡t͜͏͠i͞r̴̕s͘.̶҉
The hoarse rasp of a voice broke the din.
T͎͛͊ͮh͇̹̓ͪͦ̄̓͊͛̀e̐ͦ͋̔͐̿̐ͦ҉̭̭̬̪ ͉͍̞͇̬̹̘͗̿͋̀̑ͯ̏D̼̪̪͉̻̈̇̍ͬa͙̙̼͓̗̠ͦ̉̎̿ͥ͛̇͘ͅr̺̳̟̱̺ͧͤͭ̓́͘͡k̴͓̪͕͔̼͙̯͍̣ͦ͑̀͆ͮ̆͆ͩ ̢̫̼̳̪̯̗̯͑̑͋́L͖̞̖͛̂͐͊ͥ͌͒͘o̶̸̞̠̓͗r̾҉̭ḋ͉̱̳͐̉ͪ͘ ͩ̉̊̽̄̿̎̈͏̵͎ẅ̡̧͔̠̣̘̻͇̠́̇̌̃̈̈o̡̪̣͍͓͚͐̿͗̈́ͮͪ́u͔̗͑̓ͯ̔̚l̽ͥ́ͤ͏̛͏̼d̫̤͙̪ͯ̌̈́́͞ ̯̲̹͙̟̯̹̪̱̎͐́̔͗͒ḩ̺̘̼ͤ̂͝ą̷̥̲̘̬̿ͦ̐̃ͬ̄͒̋v̜͔̰̥͚̹̫̑̒̂͐̾͠͞ė̘̹̳̤̤͜ ̛̤̻̺̥̙͕͎̇͂ͫ͑͌ͩ̅̀͘y̹͔͚̽̄̂͐̚o̡̧͙̓̒̃͊̆ů̈ͨ̽ͧ͑̇͆͏̳̮̞̤͎͚̟̲ ͉͍͖̰͎̺̘͈̻ͥ̌̔̍ͥͩ̾ͬ͜
͇̜̝̣̤͆̆̆͒̀W̵͖̣̠͔̯͙̾̇ͣ̒o̧̟̻̟͕̞̰͚̲̪͋̃͆̏͆̎̄ͪ͜r̥̻̽̃͂s̯͚̖͑̄̌ͫ͌̍͘h̶̝̤̳̘̏̇ͭ̄͂̍̚i̘̣͚̯̠͒͌ͬͭͬ͊̾͌͢p̢̫͔̣̫̺͎̠̔͘ ̖̭͎͙̌̏ͫ̎ͣ͡ḣ̛̟͕ͯ̃̆͊ͦ͜į̼̤̞̘͙̜̈́̍̊͐͞m̳͚͂ͪ̈́̾̆̀͡-̡̨̺̳͔̭̣̮ͩ̾̀̓̒ͤ-͙͖͇ͧ̋͛͆͛́
͇̜̝̣̤͆̆̆͒̀W̵͖̣̠͔̯͙̾̇ͣ̒o̧̟̻̟͕̞̰͚̲̪͋̃͆̏͆̎̄ͪ͜r̥̻̽̃͂s̯͚̖͑̄̌ͫ͌̍͘h̶̝̤̳̘̏̇ͭ̄͂̍̚i̘̣͚̯̠͒͌ͬͭͬ͊̾͌͢p̢̫͔̣̫̺͎̠̔͘ ̖̭͎͙̌̏ͫ̎ͣ͡ḣ̛̟͕ͯ̃̆͊ͦ͜į̼̤̞̘͙̜̈́̍̊͐͞m̳͚͂ͪ̈́̾̆̀͡-̡̨̺̳͔̭̣̮ͩ̾̀̓̒ͤ-͙͖͇ͧ̋͛͆͛́
The voice was Isolda’s own, but distorted; the way wind sounded different sieving through misted leaves. Indeed. His very presence tugged at her Force enhanced senses. Already there was a tense charge of energy in the air. A stirring.
A reckoning.
He ͜wri̷͡th̢ęś.̢ ̛͘
Soft murmurs filled the atrium, floating through the haze of incense and the tang of blood. Words, once, twice, and then her reflection began to shift as if the pool before her had been disturbed. From where glossy eyes would be reflected, twin orbs shone like mirror and into the beyond. Searching. Craving. Eliciting a shudder of remembrance.
̸̮̮̟͙̺̻̲̽̃̀̏ͅẂ̞̦͎̮̞̹̟͚͑̎̑̃́o͌ͯ́͟͏̙͔̗͈̖u̧̫̹ͩl͓͋̉̾d̶̛̮̻̪̹̜̻͌ͩ͋̆ͨ͊̈̓ ̤ͫͥͮ̈̃͢ͅẖ̸̹͐aͬ̒̅̅͏́҉̱̺̘v̨̀̿ͮͩ͏͉̠̻̣̟̥͎e̼̤͉̞̮ͧ́ ͍̮̤̟̭̂̈́ͩ̄̿̋ͫy̛̝̣̞̿͆̆ͤ̿ỏ̵̢͚͙̱̩͑ͩ̽̽̽u̹͔̬͍͈̼̟ͣ͊ͫ͒ͬͦ͘ ̴̥̇̂̋͢f̤̘͙̙̯̪͙̙̆̍ͫ́͘ǫ̩̺̤̙ͫͩ̐ͧ͋ͨͪ̕l̢̖̖̯̰̰̈ͤ̾̾̆l̝̘̝̙̞̙͒̓̾̒̅̈ͧ͛̀o̹͎͊ͤ̀̚w̨͔̩̫̠̦͚̣ͧͦ̌̀ ̘͕̜̦̺̖̙̻̬ͪ͊ͮ͞H̍͌ͥ̈ͧͨ͏̗̳i̫̫̜̬͈ͥͦͩ̐̓͑s͓͔͈̤̤̼̼͆̓̊̈́̄̒̄̚ ̉̍̀D̰͇̼̗̯͒́͝i̧̩͓͎̗̘̥͖ͪ̇ͯ̚͟c̵͍̈́̃ͪ̌̆ͨ̽͠͞t̟̪͖̞ͨ̎̎ͤ͞ă͚ͩ́͂͞t̶̙̤͖̤̱̟̬̪͋͑̏̒́͜i͛̓̎̎̔̑̋̚͞͏̹͔͙̲̙̦ͅo̫̮͊ͫͧͯͥ̕͡ͅn̢̨̜͎̟̦̎ṣ̜́͒ͨͩ͢͝
͟H̴̀͟e ̨s̛l̵i͞t͝h̸e҉͘͡r͏s̨̕ ̵͠w͢ít̨h̢͘i҉͡ņ ́͟͝m͜y̵̵̨ ̶̧sk̴͟͡i͢n̷͢,̴̡ ̴͘͞c҉͘à͜͜ŗ̴͠v̛͡i̶͘ń͜g̀̕ ͢͝u͟p̵o̶ņ̕ ̷m̵̛y ̵́͞f́͟l͠͞e̵̸s̶̴h̸.̧̧͟
It was her in the scarlet stained water, but it wasn’t. Then, the Chosen of Vahl tapped a finger against the surface, rippling it, blurring her reflection. She knew what was to come. Felt it with each surge of power. With every blood dripped in sacrifice. From the blood price paid to bring clarity to her dark, twisted soul. It tortured her as it soothed her. It filled her with longing and frustration. From the frustration came anger, and from the anger a sense of bitterness she hid behind her angular, sunken face.
̢̳̬͈̬̤͍̥̋̎͒̕r̔̄̈́̐͏̹̜̱̱̘͇a͙ͩͤ̓̚͘t͍͚̗̱̻̼ͨ̃̿̀̇̌h̯̻̀̏ͩ̏̉e̴̛̯̹̱͉͔̻ͧ̎r̨̻̹͖͕̰͉͍͚̾̑͗̓ͣ̎ͧ͡ ̷̤̰͕͑͑̄̓̊̃̓̀t̢̫̯ͨ͒h̨̧̝͙̪̯͋́̐̆a̴̺͎̯͖̠̼ͭͥ͗͋̅ͪ̒͝ņ̤̦̗͍͙ͫͤͧ̆̃̈́͢ ̮̳̗̀̆ͪ̌̈ͨy̬͕͎̥̋̊͢ͅo̮̣ͮ̏͜u̵͖̪̳̅̾͒͜r͇͚̭̰̹͗̉̈ͣ͌̊͛͡ͅ ̜̭̳̣͔̑̉̃ͭ̋ͧ̓̈́͟o̯̥ͣ̈́̂ͤ͑ẁ̵̮̺̘̪̂́̋̎̀̅̌̉n̢̢̖͖̫̮̮͌͟.̺̜̳̣ͧͣͨ͝
Then there He was; a dark being of the night.
A swirl of shadows and mist of a powerful force entity her Force sight could not deny.
L̀an͟c͞i̧ng̢̨͞ ̢̀́t̢̢͞h͢r̛͜o͡u̷g̛͟͠ḩ̨ ͠͝b͝one. ̸͢
Echos of the past. Shadows of the Future.