Private Somewhere Not Here

[Corazona von Ascania]

Ukatis
Axilla Slums​

A fractured skyline and displaced population were, unfortunately, notes in a familiar tune. One as old as the galaxy itself.

The struggle and strife on Ukatis had almost always come from within. There was always another crusading warlord salivating for the throne, another family quietly scheming as they built their network of allies within the court. Then the Mandalorian Enclave had razed the capital. Just as the little agriworld had lifted itself from the ashes – with an inspiring amount of help – the Sith had come from beyond the stars.

Cora had wondered if it she was to blame for earning the interest of Darth Nefaron . Or was it his ire? Whatever it was, it was an ugly thing. At least part of this was her fault, she reasoned, because that was the only she could make sense of it all.

"Come on, easy now…"

The slums of Axilla were much like the slums of any other world. Filled with the destitute as much as they were with the failures of planetary leadership. There were always aftershocks in a rebellion, but this one rippled into a problem that Ukatis seldom encountered, given how closed-off the planet had been until recently: spice addiction.

"That's it," she murmured. "Let's get you out of this rain. We'll go slow."

The Mind-Breaker toxin unleashed upon the civilian populace had been devastating. Those who'd survived its crippling effects were left broken, subjected to a constant stream of nightmares and hallucinations. It was no wonder they'd turned to spice for a momentary escape. It was the only way to make it all stop.

Cora had guessed that they were brothers. The pair of them couldn't have been anywhere out of their teens, but they had the strong, wiry build of farm boys. The same rust-red head of hair, and when she'd bent down to gently pry open their eyelids, the same gray, glazed over eyes. She'd slung the arm of the younger boy over her shoulder, taking his weight, while she did her best to steady the elder with her free hand.

The trio moved slowly. The boys struggled to walk, swaying and clumsily tripping over their own feet as Cora tried to direct them towards an awning at the end of the alley. Somewhere covered and dry.

At the very least, the summer rain was warm. There was no chill to have soaked through their clothes and into their bones, not until nightfall. It was a small solace, but she'd take what she could get.

Kyric

 

[Kyric]

Booted feet trailed through filth-strewn alleyways of the Axilla Slums with a focused intent. Those tucked under battered awnings and makeshift tents watched in a haze as a darkly-garbed Jedi Knight pierced the depths of the downtrodden district. Few had the wherewithal to place him. Even fewer the wits or courage necessary to draw the stranger's attention. This was a city caught not within its death throes, but a slow and steady demise; drawn out in lieu of an ongoing spice epidemic.

Faced with the horrors of one's own mind or a life of slow and steady decay, Kyric could not begrudge the people of Ukatis for their current troubles. Many bore the invisible burden of a troubled mental health without the introduction of a horrific fear-based toxin. Those already teetering on the edge now found the plunge a favorable choice, while those fortunate enough to escape the icy-grip of despair throughout their lives struggled in the face of this newfound adversity.

The kiffar stalked through the alleyways in search of his one and only lead—a human woman named Audri. Some of the locals within the slums identified her as one of the earliest of Ukatis' residents to advocate for spice-based treatments. Now, rumors put her close to a high-volume supplier.

Far out of his jurisdiction, Kyric struggled to make heads or tails of the situation. He knew not Ukatis' history or its people. This entire detour was nothing more than a personal vendetta based within the Jedi Knight's disdain for slum lords who preyed upon their neighbors, extorting them via the promise of that next big hit.

Kyric turned a corner into a half-flooded dead end. An old storm drain failed to collect the building water due to something wedged in between the duracrete opening. He waded out into the water with a grimace. It raced around his calves and flooded his boots, leaving much to be desired as the kiffar approached a wall marred by carbon-scoring. He unwrapped a length of bandages woven around his scarred hand and pressed it against the wall.

A scream echoed in his mind, followed by the horrified begging of an unfamiliar woman. The dead end wasn't nearly as flooded as the present. Two men stood between the source of despair imprinted on the duracrete Kyric pressed his hand against and her escape. Both men wore fabric to cover their faces, intent on maintaining anonymity in this bloody task.

She—Audri, based on the jumbled description Kyric collected over the last forty-eight hours—took a step closer, pleading to be left alone. She tossed a bag full of credchips at their feet, lurching erratically in her terror.

Both men opened fire immediately. The first shot blasted through the side of her head, killing her instantly. Two more thudded against her chest and dropped her a foot to Kyric's left in the present. The shooters departed, then, and the kiffar weakly prodded the storm drain with his boot.

He felt something soft and frowned.

"Feth." Kyric re-wrapped his hand and knelt down into the dirty water. He grabbed hold of the woman's arm with a strong grip, pressed both feet against the corner where the floor met the walll, and pulled with all his might. She came loose after a few seconds of strained effort and the gathered water hurriedly drained away.

"Dammit," Kyric cursed again. Another dead end. He placed her bloated corpse atop a wide dumpster in the opposite side of the alley and trailed back out the alley. As he passed one of the bedraggled denizens, he tossed them a credstick and motioned back the way he came.

"I found a corpse back yonder. Lady named Audri. Make sure she gets a proper send-off, would ye?"

"Err..." the inebriated man nodded slowly. "Dead lady. Will... notify security... forces."

"Right..." Kyric considered the likelihood the job would get done, then sighed. Aubri wasn't the first corpse he discovered since arriving on Ukatis. And he doubted it be the last.

Burdened by the weight if his most recent failure, Kyric stepped back onto a larger thoroughfare with a huff. A few hours. That was the sole difference between life and death for her, and he hadn't made it in time. Had it been Dagon or Corin, Kyric was confident the situation wouldn't have played out the same way. But the kiffar couldn't wallow about in self-pity. The Force wouldn't allow it.

Directly ahead of him, a young woman struggled with the weight of two teenagers under the effects of spice. Kyric hurried forward and slipped his arm around the boy leaned up against her for purchase. The kiffar scooped him up with little trouble, and gently tossed him on his shoulder with a grunt.

"Evenin', ma'am," Kyric dipped his head at the blonde beauty. "Where we headed?"

---

Tags: Corazona von Ascania

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

The weight against her suddenly disappeared, and for a moment, Cora was worried that the boy had lost his balance and fallen. Then she turned, wide-eyed, to find that a stranger had the inebriated young man slung over his own shoulder.

Her alarm dipped into quick understanding, and she nodded. "Just over there," she pointed to the space below the awning with her newly freed hand. "And thank you."

He wasn't from around here, that much she could tell as they moved down the alley. Ukatians were an insular bunch that regarded strangers from beyond the stars with hesitance and distrust. It seemed that every time they'd made progress in the form of an off-world trade deal going well or a pleasant envoy visit, something happened to send them back into their shell.

"Rest them here for now."

With both boys leaned against the duracrete wall, Cora could examine them with a little more ease. They were tucked into one of the few remaining dry spots amidst the downpour.

"A Jedi, are you not?"

Cora murmured as she pressed two fingers beneath the younger boy's ear, feeling for a pulse. It was there, but not a strong as she would have liked.

The lightsaber at the kiffar's hip was something of a giveaway. The sword, a curiosity. It was a swift conclusion to make, and potentially a dangerous one when he could have easily been a rogue force user, or even a practitioner of the dark.

But when the Force whispered, she trusted it.

"I'm surprised to see-"

The boy suddenly went stiff, muscles seizing, and would've fallen over had she not caught him by the shoulder. His eyes rolled back as his body trembled and convulsed.

Had it been within her typical vocabulary, Cora might've sworn.

"Hold him in place, please-" she gasped as one hand flew to the boy's chest, the other to his forehead.

Overdoses had become dismally common in the past month. Reaching into the Force that surrounded a spice addict had almost become nauseating. The discomfort only grew the deeper she went with subtle, steady manipulations of the boy's nervous system to expunge the toxin. The hand at his chest shifted down to his abdomen, then slowly drew back up. Up and over his chest, along his throat, over his jaw until-

Hurk!

The boy jerked forward, vomiting the contents of his stomach all over them.

Kyric

 

[Kyric]

Happy to follow her lead, Kyric pivoted after her and trudged through the rain toward the closest awning. He made no effort to hide his probing gaze while he trailed a few paces behind.

She carried herself in a dignified manner; sure-of-foot to the point of grace beneath the rain, yet sturdy to those afflicted under her watch. He expected to spot a lightsaber hilt at her hip. The robe made it difficult to get a clear view, so he dropped the issue and shifted gears back to the task at hand.

At her thanks, the kiffar chuckled and waved weakly with his free hand. "Don'tcha go botherin' yerself with any thanks now, ma'am."

Kyric followed her under the awning and nodded at her command. It was a better spot than most out in the rain. He knelt down and laid his charge beside the other boy, examining him with practiced movements. One hand deftly forced open an eye, while the other lifted a tiny flashlight to shine into the boy's eye directly.

A murky, glazed over stare drifted lazily in place. Unmoving and uncaring.

"Poor kids." Kyric mumbled as he slipped the flashlight away.

Everywhere he turned he saw it, an infection deeply rooted in a greater illness. The addiction pulsed like the cities heartbeat. Where it beat, he found quiet resignation. In those pits of the city devoid of the drug's mind-numbing effects, fear dominated the streets. Doors and windows boarded up. Neighbors of over a decade reduced to squabbling facsimiles of a time before the gas.

Her question shook Kyric from his train of though. He watched her fingers search meticulously for life. She was familiar in her ways, but different in her application.

"I like to think so, ma'am," the kiffar answered solemnly. He trusted easily enough, but this particular stranger stumbled right to the finish line in Kyric's eyes. His disdain for those who turned their back on those oft forgotten by society ran deep. And this woman's desire to pull these children from the depths of an overdose shone like a blazing sun trapped beneath the Ukatis rain.

Kyric swept beside her and took the boy by the shoulder. His grip was firm, strong enough to lighten the load on her entirely to focus on the greater of two tasks. Healing wasn't a new trick, but he watched with the same quiet awe as the first time. Weaving life under the life-giving powers of the Force never lost its luster.

When the boy stumbled forward to spew bile into the alley, Kyric kept a hand on him for support, thought it felt like overkill given the healer's hold.

"I was figurin' ya' Jedi yerself," Kyric admitted after a few second of silence. "Funny I ended up here, huh?" He gently patted the boy's back and carefully led him back to the wall. "How can I help?"

---

Tags: Corazona von Ascania

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

Cora's sigh of relief was soft enough that it could've been lost to the sound of rain pattering against the awning. Too often did her help come too late. Some had been too far gone for even the Force to save. Maybe they weren't meant to be saved, and that was a thought that could turn hope bitter.

She didn't linger on it.

"I try to be," she murmured. With her sleeve curled around her thumb, Cora dabbed at the trickles of bile over the boy's lips and chin. "I suppose the Force has a way of calling us to where we're needed."

Had he not arrived when he did, she might've ended up trying to resuscitate the farm boy as he choked on his own spit and rain water as his brother looked on, helpless through clouds of paralytic inebriation. It was hard to imagine a scene more grim.

"I'd like to get them somewhere warm and dry. There's a place nearby – a pub. It's not much, but-" she paused to guide the elder brother against her shoulder "-the owner has been kind. Since the war, he's let me bring in all sorts of strays without kicking up a fuss."

Again, they'd venture out into the rain-washed streets until Cora brought them to a stop in front of a heavy wooden door. Cracked open, the tavern's warm light spilled in slivers onto the slick cobblestones. When nudged with her foot, it creaked open.

Behind the bar, a burly man looked up from the glassware he was drying. He set the mug down, threw the old rag over his shoulder, and stepped out from behind the counter.

"Two more this time, eh?" He shook his head, taking the weight of the boy from Cora. The barkeeper grunted, looking over to Kyric. There was a note of hesitation in his stare before he nodded, unused to the particular look that off-worlders seemed to share.

"I'm afraid so, Johannes. Fortunately, I had help this time."

"Stars," he grunted, peering closer to the boy Kyric was handling. "Just kids, really."

Cora led them past the bar and into one of the pub's few back rooms. An old wooden desk occupied one corner, and a small cot stained reddish-brown was tucked into the one opposite. She gestured for the younger boy to be laid on mattress, while she spread out a blanket for the elder to be placed atop.

"Have you any experience with healing?" She glanced up at Kyric, then paused. They'd skipped right past introductions due to necessity, and her mind was just now catching up. Perhaps the familiar surroundings helped. "Thank you for stopping to help us – I'm sorry to distract from your evening, but I am grateful. I'm Cora."

Hand over heart, she dipped her head in a quick gesture of greeting. Some habits just couldn't be shaken.

Kyric

 

[Kyric]

"Never much believed in coincidences," Kyric said in the brief silence before the healer relayed her wishes. Again he nodded, scooped up the second of the two boys, and the kiffar hefted him up onto a shoulder. It wasn't the most comfortable position to ride out a high, but beggars couldn't be choosers. Especially the unconscious ones.

Kyric set off after her at an easy pace. His mind drifted from the monotonous task to the rainfall. He heard more than felt the continued pitter-patter beat weakly across his shoulders, the sound strangely soothing even amid the morbid circumstances. There was nothing the young Jedi Knight missed more than rain during his two years locked away in an imperial prison, so he indulged himself and raised his scarred gaze skyward. Each droplet bore little weight, practically a specter in its passage, yet he smiled at their touch.

It was the little things.

The tavern's light caught his attention in his periphery. Warmth radiated on the cusp of the light, a promise of much-needed comfort to those caught in the downpour.

"Cozy," Kyric mumbled as he stepped inside. His attention swept over the room in search of tangible danger to inevitably settle on the proprietor's suspicious glance.

The man—Johannes, apparently—boasted a strong figure Kyric attributed to a life of hard labor.

"Howdy, sir," Kyric offered to the keep in passing.

Wandering past Johannes and his bar, the Jedi Knight carried the unconscious kid into the back room and carefully set him down on the bloodstained cot. It wasn't the most sanitary of conditions, but again, beggars.

Cora's introduction came after another round of thanks he quickly brushed off with a wave.

"It's good to meet cha, ma'am. Name's Kyric Karis," he answered with a nod. The evening in question was devoted to a similar task to hers, and the run in ended up simplifying matters by a large margin. The suspicious locals would trust one of their own after all.

"And yeah, I'm familiar with the healin' arts. I trained alongside a powerful healer durin' my tutelage at the School of the Carp. She showed me a thing or two to get me rollin', but I've kept at it. Plus-" he patted the lightsaber at his side. It thrummed with scarcely contained power, undeniably attuned to the light, "- I discovered a decent kyber crystal not long ago that helps out a fair bit."

Healing these people had the potential to ease their immediate burdens, but he knew the problem ran deeper than that. He suspected Cora knew it, too.

"I'm happy to help ya' heal whoever you want, Miss Cora. I came here after hearin' rumors of a growin' spice problem, so I'm ready and willin' to work. But uh- we need to get to the root of the problem. Find out who's movin' in bulk. Run em down for answers."

---

Tags: Corazona von Ascania

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

"A pleasure to meet you Kyric-"

There was a sudden pause, during which Cora frowned in thought. Was he…

"…Karis…?"

She blinked, wringing the water from her braid. Karis, as in Ryv Karis? Cora peered a little closer at the young man, squinting, but it was to no avail. She'd never met the previous Sword, and had only ever seen holo-depictions. It was quite a legacy to carry.

"I'm glad to hear that. I was not classically trained myself, but the galaxy could always use more healers." Now that they were out of the rain and the emergency had passed, she smiled at him with a little more softness.

"Could you purge the spice from him?" She motioned to the boy on the blanket. "Best to do it before his body succumbs. I'll check his brother for organ damage."

Cora shuffled toward the cot, placing a cool hand on the boy's forehead. The other pressed gently to his abdomen, and he murmured. Kyric's words floated to her, and she chewed at the corner of one lip.

"You are…not wrong. Ukatis has its problems, but we've never face a spice epidemic like this." She frowned, moving her hand up to the boy's chest. He was breathing on his own, a good sign. "The Sith released a toxin into the city, one that drives you to madness with fear. Those who've survived its effects are left…"

She hesitated, threading a lock of red hair behind the boy's ear tenderly. He looked so peaceful now. In a way, he reminded her of Roman Vossari , the apprentice whom she'd failed to guide.

"…Broken. I can't blame them for reaching for anything that will dull such pain."

Cora took a moment to compose herself before she looked over her shoulder at Kyric. "You're not wrong - even if we found a way to take away their troubles, the spice already has its hold. Would you be willing to tell me what you've discovered so far?"

Kyric

 

[Kyric]

Kyric couldn't discern the nature of Cora's hesitance as she said his family name.

His father had cast a long shadow across his life, one felt by many even all these years later. Not everyone thought fondly of Ryv Karis. His many enemies still hunted Kyric to this day, and the Order forged by the late Sword had taken to celebrating new heroes. Even as history so blatantly repeated itself within the Core; an emerging Sith menace left to plunder worlds once defended by the New Jedi Order, their number drained away to the unknown reaches—to walk a hidden path.

Any sort of recognition ran a risk of reprisal, but Cora demanded nothing of his name. Merely assistance to uphold the very virtues held dear by the Jedi Order.

"Sure thing, Miss Cora." Kyric pushed off the wall and moved to the side of the stained cot. He slipped his lightsaber off his belt and set it atop the boy's stomach. His hand settled atop the weapon, while the other floated above the unconscious youth's chest. Soft blue light emanated from the kyber crystal constructed within the saber. It cast a warm glow over the boy, carrying with it the scent of spring.

Black mist rose from the center of the boy's chest, slowly at first, collecting into a roiling sphere hanging centerfold Kyric's open palm. The haze came more rapidly from across the inebriated child's body. The light cast by the saber, Soltide, burrowed into his skin in search of newly damaged tissue in lieu of extended spice use. By the time Kyric withdrew his hand and returned his saber to his belt, the boy looked to have recovered from more than just the toxins, but exhaustion, too. The dark spots beneath his eyes were gone. His skin appeared flush with life, no longer pallid and sickly.

Hearing the origin of the epidemic took the kiffar by surprise. He hadn't heard anything about such an attack since getting out of prison, so he assumed it happened during his time in chains.

"Sounds like a lose-lose scenario. I'm not real fond of those," Kyric chimed in after Cora's explanation. "We needa change the nature of this here situation, ma'am. Just cause we can't see the solution don't mean it ain't out there. Findin' where the spice is comin' from is step one. Stoppin' the supply will exasperate the other issue, though. We gotta find a way to cure both the planet's spice problem and the toxin infectin' yer people."

Kyric withdrew a handheld holoprojector tucked into one of his belt pouches and set it down in front of Cora. He clicked a little button on the side to activate it. Blue-white light whirred into existence, materializing into a detailed map of the city's slums. A large red sphere formed over the southwestern region of the slum. Several roads flashed orange.

"The oldest reports of spice use originate in the red zone here." Kyric pointed at the holomap with a finger. "The orange bits are where I noticed heavier foot traffic durin' the evenin' and well into the early mornin'. Whoever is runnin' the show is operatin' in this bubble here, but I ain't sure where. And I can't make any dealers, neither. Folks are bein' tightlipped."

---

Tags: Corazona von Ascania

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

A soft glow of blue light brushed the bare wall, pulling Cora's attention toward Kyric. She watched in quiet fascination as he siphoned dark miasma from the boy's body, leaving the toxin victim not only cleansed, but refreshed.

The scent of something clean, mellow, and vaguely floral tickled her nose. She looked on, quietly marveling at the result.

Carefully, she shuffled over and place a hand on the boy's chest, following the line of his pulse up and along his neck. "Well done." She smiled in relief. "His heartbeat is stronger. What sort of crystal is that?"

Her hands returned to the patient on the cot, steadily feeding a healing energy into his abdomen. She'd always found it easier to knit flesh back together than to bolster organ health, the former coming from years of fieldwork. Cora hadn't been traditionally trained as a healer, but had learned out of necessity.

She studied the holomap with a thoughtful frown. "Fortunately, the toxin is no longer actively infecting people. I did manage to recover one of the aerosol canisters that had jammed, with some of its contents still intact. We also had blood samples from those who've been infected, and from what I can tell…"

Cora trailed, looking uncertain, and perhaps a touch guilty. "This is something new. I've only managed to do damage control, but at the rate that this epidemic is moving, it'll soon be too much."

Darth Nefaron had not gone after her. Instead, he'd burned everything around her. Her home, her people, her family - he'd made sure that the effects would linger for a lifetime.

Cora shook that thought from her head before it could take root and turn her bitter. "I believe you're right in that this is a two-fold problem. We need to stem the flow of spice, while ensuring that the affected get the care that they need. Withdrawals, without treatment, can be deadly.”

Following Kyric's gesture to the red shading, Cora murmured.

"District Horwell," she observed. "I'm not surprised. Even before the war, it was known for housing the poorest of the poor. Not much support from the crown, either." She tsked, giving Kyric a cursory once-over.

"Ukatis has spent much of its history in isolation, so there are some who believe that offworlders only bring trouble. Our trade has increased, but I can't blame the sentiment. Not after what happened." She looked first to the boy on the cot, then to the one on the blanket. "If you want your investigation to go smoother, we’ll have to get you some Ukatian clothing. Hide the lightsaber, too."

With that train of through rolling, Cora peered closer to the flashing orange streets. "I believe there's a factory there that produces components for starship engines. It suffered some damage during the Sith's raid. A cathedral too, with an orphanage."

Kyric

 

[Kyric]

"This feller I met named Nathan called it an Ankarres Sapphire," Kyric said as he clipped his lightsaber back into place on his belt. The glimmer in his eye suggested even he was surprised at the power of the crystal. "He wasn't kiddin' when he said it amplified healin'."

After another glance over the two boys, Cora shifted her attention to the map. Her explanation of Ukatis' current situation with the toxin left much to be desired, but Kyric wasn't sure how to help. Studying the collected samples wouldn't reveal an iota of information to him. Biology? Anatomy? Useful knowledge, sure. But it wasn't the most beneficial for one who spent much of his time chasing down criminals, or fighting his way across a battlefield. Frustration set in nonetheless.

Auteme assured Kyric a thousand times over he needed more than skill and will to be a Jedi Knight—not that he ever listened.

He turned to the map. It didn't take him long to pick up minor imperfections in the acquired data. Incomplete streets that ended in nothing; unmarked points-of-interest he recalled seeing while out tromping through the city.

They were the sorts of mistakes BD-8 never made.

Memories of the missing droid wouldn't do anything to improve the kiffar's mood or Ukatis' situation, so he stowed those away and focused on the moment. The present offered him a challenge, one he trusted himself to overcome.

"The factory seems likely. Shouldn't be hard to smuggle the drugs in if this company is acceptin' any off-world shipments." Kyric searched the room while he spoke, as if the perfect disguise awaited him in the desk drawers. It didn't. "Orphanage ain't an impossibility, but it feels high-risk. Visitors and the like. Pryin' eyes."

He settled back against the wall and considered his options. He didn't want to travel without his lightsaber or the sword, but Cora's analysis was spot-on. Learning about the troubled world's recent past only reinforced the truth. If Kyric intended to get the job done, it required more than a keen mind, but a sense of familiarity to these downtrodden people. They needed to want to trust him. Cora's presence would help as long as they weren't separated. Did he want to gamble everything on that?

Not particularly.

"Alright, well. You help me find some new digs and I'll help you find yer suppliers. Sound good?"

---

Tags: Corazona von Ascania

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

"Ah! Ankarres Sapphire." The name sparked the first bit of genuine delight he'd see from her. "I've studied them. Quite remarkable little things, and certainly a boon for healing."

Unfortunately, academy days seemed to be slipping through her fingers. Instructing younglings had been something Cora had found meaning in, but the only lessons she'd been able to hold over the past few months had been via holo. It worked, but it wasn't the same.

"It's not an impossibility, no. But I do agree that the factory is more likely." It didn't take her long to consider Kyric's offer – especially when she had an inkling that he would've done his best to track down the suppliers regardless. "Very well," Cora agreed as she rose, clapped her hands together, and gave the young man a very obvious once-over. "Leave the styling to me."

--​

After a quick outfit change courtesy of Johannes, the pair headed back out into the rainy streets of Horwell district. Fortunately, the downpour had tapered into a drizzle. This time, none who passed them by gave them a second glance.

"I meant to ask," Cora began, "What brought you to Ukatis?"

She reached to fix the scarf loosely tied over her hair, trying to hide the tattered edges before adjusting the knot beneath her chin. "I gather that you're one of those vigilante types?"

The factory that Kyric had marked on his map loomed at the end of the street, it's gloomy duracrete face more akin to a prison than a place of work. "The Alliance was able to help with housing and food after the war, but many people lost their livelihoods," she lowered her voice, murmuring between them. "Aside from places like Axilla and Daphnes, much of Ukatis is farmland. Some people come to the city for steady work and a chance at a better life, but even those have been harder to find."

Kyric