Spectre of the Force

[Connor Harrison]

spectre (ˈspɛktə) or spectre (n)

1. a ghost; phantom; apparition

2. a mental image of something unpleasant or menacing ​

The Ten Mile Plateau
Ord Mantell, Bright Jewel Sector​

The E-wing sent a tremor across the brown, dead grassland below it as the landing gear touched upon the planet of Ord Mantell. A calm grey ocean seeped out from the coast over numerous mountain ranges spewing up from the waves, like the planet's claws reaching up out of the depths on a planet that looked far more attractive from space than on the ground.

Leaning back into the black seat, Connor Harrison sighed gently as his eyes scanned the city of Worpol below him. Landing at coordinates given upon the Ten Mile Plateau, a formation of the volcanic rock rising form the planet, he was now just awaiting her; the Sith Lord.

Flipping the switch to pull back the hatch over the cockpit, Connor pulled himself up and out over the side, landing gently on the ground below. He was immediately hit by the mild warmth and surprising peace of the area around him. From a planet notorious for being a home to bounty hunters and smugglers and salvagers, Worpol stretched out below the plateau and small dots representing ships and transports buzzed in and around the city. Around the E-wing lay half buried ruins of, what looked like, decaying walkers and droids - certainly a galactic graveyard if ever he saw one.

He had his hands on hips as he stared out. looking up to see one of the large moons through the pinkish atmosphere above. His mind was racing about the events about to unfurl before him.

Wearing his torn greatcoat, complimenting his ripped trouser leg, Connor turned and opened the storage compartment under the cockpit and hesitated – the lightsaber; should he leave it here or take it with him.

The purple prism that was the Sith amulet was tucked by chest inside the greatcoat and it was now less of a violent pulse, but a mild warmth that reminded him it was feeding of his Force power- but he was in control of it, not the other way around.

The company façade Matsu Xiangu was connected to – it HAD to be a façade – was aware of a traveller wanting to contact the well-known Miss Xiangu to discuss the discovery of ancient Sith relic. That was enough, and that would either tempt her or not. She didn’t need to know it was a fallen Silver Jedi, looking to stare the Sith straight into the amber eyes she hid behind and come out alive.

Did he want a confrontation? A duel? A discussion? He didn’t know, and he wasn’t planning anything. His hand hovered over the silver hilt on his waistline and it hung there. Blue eyes zipped around his field of vision for a moment, unable to think of a definitive answer.

Moments passed, and he decided to leave the lightsaber in his ship. Without hesitating, he pulled away the hilt and slid it in the compartment, slamming it shut and turning the knobs to seal it. Matsu Xiangu was a formidable woman and a name known to the Silver Jedi, and this was literally walking into the jaws of death. But he would be damned if he felt he was going to make it easy for her. Let her do her torture, her dark magic, her twisted abuse – this was the whole reason he was here; to show the Sith not all broken souls were beyond salvation.

Exhaling slowly, puffing out his cheeks, Connor turned back to face the city and started to walk away. The planet was quite dark, very bland in nature and uneven in terrain. It almost mirrored Connor’s state of mind – dark, bland and uneven. No Silver Jedi knew where he was however, and so only he would be able to face the Sith Lord alone and hope to leave the planet alive.

His chances were minimal, but he had to try. After all, hope shines brightest in the dark.


[member="Matsu Xiangu"]

 

[Matsu Xiangu]

Matsu was almost entirely certain that whomever had seen fit to contact her with the offer of a Sith artifact was not who they said they were. ‘Xavier Arlington’ was bound to be anything but the aristocratically named scavenger he portrayed himself to be – no one took hold of an ancient amulet only to turn around and hand it to someone else, especially not someone they knew nothing about. And especially not a Sith specifically – she went to great lengths to keep most of her identity under wraps save for the face she presented in Neuro-Saav and the Fringe.

She was not afraid – she just valued some downtime, and that was difficult when overly righteous do-gooders were out to take her down.

But knowledge…knowledge came with a price. It was her style to remain quiet, to grow and grow and grow so that when she finally bloomed (and she is all soft petals, lovely to look at, enchanting – and she peels back to reveal spiders, striped black and green, long-limbed and ready for war) she would devour before anyone had a chance. So when she’d taken ‘subjects’ it had been quietly and without fuss, a simple tug at the back of their brainstems to keep them quiet while she spirited them away. Most of the Galaxy was weak, highly susceptible to influence, and it had not been hard to turn them in to zombies long enough to set them up in her quiet little lab. By the time they came around she was usually able to separate the skull cap from the rest of skull itself and pull the brain far enough to expose its entirety. She’d learned a wealth of information from working with the brain in its physical form to better manipulate it in the abstract, and it was endless. She could only learn more. But the price was a more difficult time keeping herself and her abilities unknown. (And I saw a beast, rising from the sea...)

She often wondered, watching their eyes dart back and forth in the first few moments that they realized what was happening, how strange it would feel to know your brain was outside of your skull.

Pulling herself from a drift of thoughts as she broke Ord Mantell’s atmosphere, she watched the dirty city come in to view, buildings taking better form as she dipped low through the air. (Her stealth cruiser is an extension of her, dark and sleek and cutting through the air with relative silence as she scouts for the mountainous formation of volcanic rock she’d agreed to meet on.) The coordinates were good as the dark rock came in to view high above the city and pushed a little back. A good enough a place to meet as any.

She hopped from the cockpit of her one-woman ship just after it had settled on the ground, long and lean in a bodysuit covered by a dark cloak. Her sword lay across one hip, a pair of knives – one in a sheath in each knee-high boot – resting against the side of her calves as she walked. Her weapon was the Force, but she liked to carry a few sharp edges.

He had gotten there before her, a man that towered over her, though that was no feat. Most of the Galaxy was taller than Matsu. He had a look about him – she wouldn’t say weary, as in truth he seemed energized by something, renewed despite the tears in his clothing. He was handsome in an entirely unconventional way. She could feel no distinct signature in the Force but that meant nothing. He could be hiding it. But what he couldn't hide was the dark lure of the artifact he held somewhere on his person - it sang to her, called her by name.

“Who are you?” she asked quietly, her influence crawling out over the outside of his brain – little spider-legs ticking through gyri and sulci before finding a soft spot to burrow in. She could take what she wanted, but she liked to allow others a sense of autonomy first, give them a chance to do the right thing before she made them do the right thing.

D̯̿̌ͬ̓o͚̠̫͓͔̭̞n̖̘̤͓̗̭͚̈̽ͦͮ'̩t̥̦̠͉̞̣͔̽̔̌̾̿̈ ̄̇̆̚l̖̊̑í̖̯̅͊͐ẻ̦̝̖̥̹͔͖̍̍̒̔ͮͯ.͙̇̒ͨ ͕̜̟͙̤́ͯ͛ͨͮͪI̹̮͉ ̦̰̳̱̳͚̅ͫ̉w͙ͅi̗̩̺̱̮͔l͈̞̥͙̣̘̐͊ͅl ̭̪̝̭̣̓̀̂ͪͣ͐k̜͈̰ͭͭ̎ͣ͛̂̂nͦ̑o͈̔ͤͫ́w͈̮̹͕̦̝̑ ̮͓̰̮ͬ̾̉̊̂ͣi̝̻̟̺̳̗̘ͯ̓͑̍̅̇f͓͋̒ͥͨͤͬ ̙̩̭͚̦͍y̩̮ͣ̋o̺uͯ̃̆ͬ͗́ ̑̂ͣ͊ͦ͗̎a͉͙͒r̳͚̞̪̙̞ͣë̺̠̜̮̩͎̌͋͛ ̺̠̺̫̹͚̇l͈̳̣̼y̲̟͇͔̦̾ͮi̹̭̥̤̘ͪṋ̹̮̩̓ͫͅg͇̪͕͍͕̳̩̽̿́.̦̘̥̰̼͉͕̉͑ͦ​

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[member="Connor Harrison"]​

 

[Connor Harrison]

He heard the craft before he saw it. Looking up, a sleek shape moulding the clouds around it as the pilot brought it around and overhead, touching down a small distance from Connor's. He nodded gently, accepting there was no going back.

Not moving, letting his breathing stay calm and clear; his mind free of doubt and worry - confident, strong, hopeful - the lithe figure of the Sith Lord emerged onto the grassland and started to him. Not as imposing as he had expected, this simply made Connor prickle with intrigue. Someone small and fragile looking had been the cause of great pain and suffering to the Silver Jedi and countless others, which meant she was far more powerful than to be expected.

You didn't need fearsome looking armour or a huge arsenal of weaponry or guards flanking you to convey fear and dread. Sometimes less was really more. His fingers rubbed gently around his thumbs as he waited; alone and unarmed.

She snaked towards him, an exotic twist in her hips as one foot moved before the other. Connor didn't convey fear or worry, because he wasn't fearful or worried. He had done enough recently to experience all of them and this was going to be a test of his mental and emotional resilience. You didn't get to where a Lord or Master stood by being weak.

Her voice was like her appearance - delicate but to the point. As she spoke, Connor slowly closed his eyes and leant his head to the side slightly, a small smile twitching at the corner of his lip.

"Well, you should really ask before prodding around up here, Miss Xiangu. Manners. We are civilised beings ater all, aren't we?"

Blue eyes opened to meet her dark gaze. An exotic little thing indeed.

"My name is Connor Harrison - " he bowed his head gently, " - Knight of the Silver Jedi."

She could pick up on the lie if she wanted, or not. Rank didn't matter to him right now. Connor stood before her, full frame.

"It's a pleasure to meet the notorious Matsu Xiangu. Really. Thank you for your time."

Walking slowly forward, off to her side, he folded his arms and pushed into his chin with his index finger.

"Care to hazard a guess as to why I've called you here? And, make no mistake, I DID call you here."


[member="Matsu Xiangu"]

 

[Matsu Xiangu]

His voice is just as cultured as his cover-name would suggest, deep and clipped. Her own accent isn’t pronounced, smoothed by her years among muddier areas of the Galaxy. She does nothing but smile when she hears his response, not deigning to respond with the obvious – that what he’d felt was a polite touch, more a greeting than the ‘prodding’ she could administer. She preferred however, the term ‘exploration’. It seemed to fit her tearing, shredding, ruining path through someone’s mind – like an ant, building tunnels so if you made a sagittal cross-section it would look like a terrarium of gray matter.

“Mmm, civilized,” she replies, ignoring the scrap and garbage dotting the countryside sweeping open beneath their perch.

She can sense something like untruth when he mentions his rank but it’s not what matters to her – it’s the organization that he represents that catches her interest. She had no particular qualms with the Jedi, Republic or Silver. She had been known to fight against both – her work against the Republic in the invasion of Alderaan had left her with a reputation and she’d fought against a Silver Jedi or two both there and in the field elsewhere. Though by the same token she spent a good amount of time around Matsu Ike; they both worked for the Beast Hunter’s Guild in their spare time and had become the group’s most skilled procurers. But the Silver Jedi…that put an entirely different spin on his presence.

But she can’t help but laugh – a sound polarizing in the twining of soft and sharp – when he asserts that making her acquaintance is a pleasure. “Oh, is it now? And notorious? You flatter me Mr. Harrison. I’m sure it will be my pleasure.” (In the back of her mind she’s recalling the early years, watching Nemene Talith torture and experiment on a young Togruta – a Silver Jedi now that she’s giving it some thought. A longer history with the organization than she’d given herself credit for, it seemed.)

She’s spent enough time around both Jedi and Sith to know that this one in front of her lies closer to the former but still does not align totally. The way he stands – not a direct challenge, but an assertion she doesn’t find common in most Jedi – and the near-arrogance of his next statement are enough to tip her off without probing his mind again. She’s still smiling after he speaks, watching him the way a spider waiting at the edge of her web. She wonders if he can't be turned, if he wouldn't consider joining the winning side.

Once again she let the answer go because he already knew – he called her, sure. But it had been her choice to come.

“I don’t need to guess,” she answered, reaching out and this time touching with more insistence than she’d measured out the first time. (She’s gotten good, holding a mind between her fingers and tugging and pushing at strands to open it all up – cat’s cradle, an origami trap of information.) There is, of course, too much to scan at once for the quick flash of response she wants. So instead she browses everything closest to the forefront, the journey he’s just taken and the events that led him to it. He has a good natural defense, walls that attempt to come up and block her almost immediately as she enters – but this is her life’s work. Someone else’s fortress is her matchstick dollhouse.

“You consider me a test.” She laughed again, enjoying her shadowy avatar in his mind. “I looked like a beast to you.”

She left his mind with the crackling sound of a snake shedding its exoskeleton, a visceral hiss-snap. "You know what you look like to me?" She rolled her tongue in her cheek. "An experiment."

[member="Connor Harrison"]​

 

[Connor Harrison]

With every syllable that rolled off her tongue, her frame didn’t move, and Connor felt his defences start to build externally and internally. Shifting his weight to his right foot, he turned his left shoulder to her a little. Inside, the thoughts that she was a Sith Lord were escaping him, but if anything it was so important he didn’t under-estimate her.

This wasn’t a game – this wasn’t a casual passing on the way home for some supper – this was life and death. A Lord who was responsible for who knew how many fatalities and endless sufferings was now standing before him at his request, and Connor needed to remember that with each second ticking by, she was creeping further and further into his conscious; unpicking the stitching of his mind that held his nerve and morality together.

Should she be allowed to unpick too much, than there would be no hope for a man on the edge.

His eyes scanned the city and planet before them both as she commented on her surroundings. It certainly wasn’t the nicest planet to meet on, but then again this wasn’t the nicest of meetings at all. Full stop.

Frowning, he puffed out his chest slightly and raised his hand with a finger raised as if to silence her; he emitted a counter of that Force energy he had that wasn’t fuelled by the light, but instead fuelled by his drive to keep out the dark and that was a combination of both sides he had touched upon.

”Let’s stop…with the mind games, ok? Come on, at least give me credibility here. You’re not going to find anything up there of worth to you.”

Not daring to make a step forward, sideways or back, Connor stayed rooted to the ground.

”Yes, you are a test. A test for me to look into the depths of your twisted mind; to see what makes you tick. To see what makes someone so in-human they can be capable of such monstrosities that it comes as natural to them as breathing.”

Looking at her, he fished into his left breast pocket and fingered the amulet. If you showed nerve and weakness around one such as her, she would strike you down without even batting an eyelid. The thoughts of the Isolated Garden flashed in his mind, and his self-meditation and training. Connor had nothing to lose. This was something that would test his very being.

No fear.

He pulled the purple prism on the black chain from his pocket, glowing in his hand.

”An experiment? Oh, yes that I am. But, tell me, before you get that satisfaction, what do you make of this?.”

He gripped the amulet with his fingers, holding it before him, swaying it gently.

”Your knowledge would be very much appreciated. And don’t forget, I’m not here to kill you so please - ” he mocked a sympathetic expression, ” – play nice.”

Was his head running away with him? Probably - but then, when did the Sith ever get anywhere by stopping to think about consequences in the heat of confrontation? First lesson learnt.

[member="Matsu Xiangu"]

 

[Matsu Xiangu]

She raised an eyebrow when he held up his finger as if he were shushing her, the corners of her mouth turning down. She didn’t care enough for it to be a frown. It looked more like a ‘really?’

But the wave of the dark side that came off him was interesting enough that she didn’t decide to snap his neck on the spot, recompense for the waste of her time. She had never known the Silver Jedi to be entirely orthodox. After all, any group of Jedi that left the Republic, an institution thousands of years old, were bound to be at least a little different. She doubted they were the devils or heretics some of the Galaxy seemed to believe, but she also didn’t believe they were entirely comfortable with the power she’d just felt. Or maybe it was just him.

After all, she couldn’t say she’d ever been contacted with the purpose of being a ‘test’. Most avoided her poking and prodding.

She smiled at his mention of her mind being twisted – of understanding what someone in-human was capable of. Twisted? She wouldn’t deny it. But despite that she was perfectly, frighteningly sane.

Who was more the monster: the one who killed hundreds but was too insane to know it was wrong? Or she who kills one in the full knowledge they were stealing someone’s life, someone’s hope, someone’s dreams? (And she has killed hundreds, seen the end of countless lives, in the name of progress.)

“I like that – inhuman. If you ask me, that’s a common misconception. It’s human to kill. It’s human to be selfish. By that logic, I’m more human than you.” She – a spider with a durasteel arm and fangs she’d filed herself – assumed that to most she appeared only vaguely human. Her regular use of Sith Magic had sharpened her cheekbones and hollowed her cheeks, accentuated the shape of her eyes; still beautiful, but with a hint of the demonic, the kind of features that left one wondering if she was what she said she was. She had the right shape, the expressions, the right language. But she’d gone somewhere she couldn’t come back from.

She reached out when he proffered the amulet, noting that little faux-sympathetic expression and burning it in to her memory. “May I?” she asked as if she had to, giving him a passive expression as she took the jewel of the amulet between thumb and forefinger. A rolling wave of the dark crawled over her, humming like it had found home, a endless source from which to feed and strengthen in return. While she had no particular skill in reading an objects’ history, her power with the mind gave her a more esoteric grasp on reading things and paired with the journey she’d seen in Harrison’s mind she could piece together exactly what this was – the owner’s name pressed against the walls of her mind, making sure anyone who touched it understood from whom it had come. “Funny – this belonged to Ulic Qel-Droma. Even the artifact you hold in your hands is proof that anyone is capable of evil.” She turned her black gaze to look at him, releasing the amulet. “I’m sure you already know what it does.” She smirked.

[member="Connor Harrison"]​

 

[Connor Harrison]

Connor kepts his cool eyes on her as she stepped closer, but as she spoke he couldn’t help let out a small bark of laughter, tossing his head back in amusement at her choice of words.

”More human than me? Serious? Well that’s another little err on the part of the Sith; always thinking they know best just because they do things a little differently.”

Standing close to the Lord, Connor flicked his index finger between them both, pointing at his body and hers. The amulet was still held out with his right hand.

”We’re more alike than you probably care for. No offence intended, of course, you’re a Sith Lord and I, just a mere Silver Jedi, but you’ve no idea of the “humanity” I’ve brought upon myself with hurt, aggression, lying and deception. We’re not all cuddly robe-wearing philosophers with lightsabers, just because we side on the Light.”

With a wry smile, he watched her, his sense attuned as best he could to the environment around him; heart racing, breathing steady, senses alert. The breeze blew through them both, flicking her dark hair across her face gently. Connor’s eyes fell to her cybernetic arm, a hideous and raw creation of durasteel metal and electrics; beauty and the beast.

At her request, Connor nodded gently, fingers gripping the amulet as she began to inspect the relic. Looking down on the prism, he noticed it seemed to react – glowing, breathing – to her touch. While Connor had just about been able to understand the hold it had over Force users, Matsu Xiangu seemed to effortlessly devour it with just a gentle touch, and that un-nerved him.

Looking back up to the Lord, this close, Connor could see that she had, it seemed, become riddled with the Dark Side. Shaped by it; caressed by it, corrupted by it. Her features with sharp, near-perfect and heightened to look fearsome and cold. Her eyes with small but full, extended by what looked like make-up that was used to define her features and create a picture of a powerful woman who knew what and who she was. Blue eyes took her in as she spoke, Connor’s mind racing to analyse and understand her and her motives.

What are the signs of darkness? Is she a prisoner to it? How does she move? How does she control it?

”You know your history Miss Xiangu, and you’re correct. Lost on Rhen Var and only recently come to discovery. There may be more, but I can’t vouch for that.”

He gently drew the amulet back, feeling it scream in his palm as he maintained his gaze on Matsu and pocketed it in his greatcoat.

”I know what it does; I just wanted you to confirm it. Thank you.”

He was stood on the edge of darkness once more, and he gave a slight shiver as the conversation reminded him this wasn’t a social call, and death was standing yards before him ready to strike the second his guard was down.

”So. You’ve already made yourself known to my Order as one of the most twisted minds of the Sith. Care to enlighten me how you’ve been given such a title?”

His boot crossed over the threshold.


[member="Matsu Xiangu"]

 

[Matsu Xiangu]

She smiled when he moved to correct her statement, tilting her head to look back at the amulet and consider what he’d said. Regardless of her feelings on the subject she wasn’t here to argue with him – he was clearly just as stubborn as she was and she didn’t care enough to try and convince him. But the idea that they were more alike than she might care for…she laughed, a quiet sound and perhaps even more unnatural as it was void of any of the sarcasm or bitterness or taunting her kind were notorious for. It was almost good-natured, an acquaintance conceding to a point. “I didn’t get where I am by underestimating ‘mere’ Jedi. Some of the strongest in this galaxy follow the Light. And I’m not entirely familiar with your brand of…morality, Mr. Harrison. The line you walk makes you unpredictable. I’m sure it will serve you well in the future.”

Although he’d done well in selecting a Sith Lord from the bunch that wouldn’t kill him on sight for what he is, he’d also run across one that didn’t adhere strictly to the codes that had defined her kind for centuries. The Sith were, of course, highly varied in their beliefs and doctrines but the single defining, binding quality was feeding off negative or passionate emotion for strength. Matsu was no different – hate, terror, pain, revenge, lust, despair, rage – those were the things that let her in, that charged her. Sith were inherently prone to falling victim to the same, to letting negative emotion blind them, but in the same way Krius Syonis had snapped her in half he was part of the reason that she was ice now.

In the beginning she’d been an animal, untrained and willing to use her power as a weapon to shoot first and ask questions later. She would exhaust herself in split second shows of sweeping intensity – impressive, but short-lived. Useless in the end. When Krius had left her on Skye she had been angry, focused for the first time in her life. It had been another step in the right direction but still would have ultimately led to failure. Rage eliminated commonsense.

She would not allow herself to wipe out in a split-second, to not see what was coming because she was too angry and proud to defend herself. It was because of Krius that she’d learned to use her power like ice, not fire. (Her power is like falling in to ice-water, like sinking with lead weights in to something so cold you’re dying the moment it wraps around your body. Deeper and deeper and deeper and watching the sun blot out on the surface.) She would kill, torture, destroy...but she would not end because she'd been too blind to see what was happening to her.

Care to enlighten me as to how you were given such a title?​

She didn’t answer as she seized his mind, slipping in with not even so much as a whisper. She stayed quiet so that by the time he realized she’d just read the last ten years of his life in ten seconds she would have a grasp on him so complete that she clamped down with a vice grip, taking control.

To him it might appear that within the span of a blink he was no longer standing with the Sith Lord Matsu Xiangu, but Jedi Padawan [member="Nima Tann"], a small smile on her face that quickly gave way to semi-amused concern. “Connor, why do you look so confused?” (Skinwalker.)

[member="Connor Harrison"]​

 

[Connor Harrison]

His fingers twitched buy his side, busy digits waiting to come up unfurled from his palm and repel the advances of the Sith, or to feel the cold lightsaber hilt in his grip to strike back an attack. But, rather, Connor simply stood, angled slightly at45 degrees, watching Matsu laugh, mock and genuinely look intrigued with his words.

This was the way of the Dark Side – another lesson being taught by the Lord either knowingly or not at all. They would wrap you up in a spider’s web; crush you under the darkness until you either exploded with a dangerous rage they could manipulate to their own, or simply suffocated in your own fear and panic until you gave up on life and hope itself.

Not Connor. He could see the stand-off between them after speaking, both watching each other with no obvious sign of aggression or hate; more curiosity and intrigue. Connor’s brushed his tongue against the lower teeth in his mouth, trying to work out what was going on in that swirling back mind of Matsu’s.

No. Not Connor. He wouldn’t allow himself to give up or to be a victim of such an evil trapping.

Or so he thought.

As the Ord Mantell breeze caressed his face with a cool gentleness, the Sith Lord suddenly caressed his brain with her talons; sharp, piercing and strong. In those few seconds, his knees bent slightly under the un-invited pressure in his mind, his head lowering and twisting at the onslaught of what felt like a throbbing headache right at the front of his skull; if it were a noise, it would be high-pitched and agonising, one that would make you wince and cover your ears. However this was internal, and it made Connor wince indeed as well as push his hand against his temple, a gut reaction from any human to try and fight the pain you had no control over.

Showing the strain on his face, the pressure he was fighting from her calm and sudden invasion, Connor flicked his eyes up to her, immediately knowing she was playing dirty, but it was just what he had been inviting.

The Dark Side welcomes you, Connor.

Feeling the overwhelming sensation of his insides convulsing under staggered breaths, his stomach churning, lungs tightening and chest heavy, Connor was fighting not to let the air get knocked out of him from the pain, visibly uncomfortable and hating her strength with each second.

He closed his eyes as she perused his past – his time with the Silver Jedi, his time wandering the Outer Rim, his time spent meeting Iella E’ron, Nima, Thurion and the others, his time working with his fellow Shadows on dominions, his time, no – his time possessed by the Taung. The perfect ammunition for a Sith to feed on.

Connor snapped his eyes open with a groan as the alarm bells rung in his head, only to be faced by the red skinned Twi’lek whom he had hurt physically and emotionally; Nima Tann. The tightening in his brain loosened slightly, allowing him to hear her curious, naïve voice call out to him with a bemused smirk just as she had in the Silver Jedi Gardens as she pushed him; goaded him.

She is part of you now, Connor.

Shaking his head softly, looking down at the ground and building his body up stronger, erect and tall as it should be to face such a threat as this, Connor stood and pointed a finger to Nim…Matsu. The Sith.

”No…no, no – “ he grinned, laughing, be it a little deliriously, ”- you’re not playing this game. You can’t. “

His hair suddenly stood on end, and his body went ice cold. The grin dropped.

”Get away from me. This is – a vision, no, this isn’t the true nature of the Sith. Matsu Xiangu - Sith Lord, not a Padawan child, is that the best you have? “

Stepping towards the figure, his distaste for Matsu and the evil she represented grew.

”I’m not letting you in, not that easily!“ His shout was louder than he wanted it to be. His fist clenched into a tight ball, knuckles whitening with bone under the cool skin.


[member="Matsu Xiangu"]

 

[Matsu Xiangu]

His touch on the dark was clearly helping him here as she felt a resistance usually present only in those more intimate with the crueler side of the Force. It was a test, a little prod to see what would touch deepest before she ripped through his brainstem, crawled from the fore of his brain in to the place where animal, base instinct lived – fear reaction as its most primal.

Mentalism came in three flavors, and what she was doing to him now was her use of the weakest, a mentalist’s simple illusion. ‘Weak’ however was a misnomer as it was less effective only relative to the supernova flare of power of the two more elaborate tastes. However, it would do for the moment. Matsu was a firm believer in building an illusion carefully, brick by brick, making her foundation so secure that no act of defiance would shake her victim free.

As he took a step towards her, she let her face (because it is her face now, sinking in to someone else learned through his memories, walking in her skin) tighten in fear. She took a step back, shrinking in the wake of his volume. “Connor, wait. What are you talking about? I’m not trying to get in. I just…I want to help you.” She trailed off at the end, letting memories of setting him free, of fleeing to the moon above Shri-tal with him flood their connection – subtle, natural. (The illusion must be built by the victim – small hints, little suggestions to bend where you want them to eventually break, but let them ruin themselves. And even the strong can be torn down.)

And then she let go of the first form to favor the second, a brand of illusion unique in that if he had reached out to touch Nima before the illusion would have shattered. But now, as she seized at his brainstem, what she changed to was very, very real. Any monster she created from thin air would not only be as real, but it would hurt him as a mentalist’s illusion couldn’t.

But for now, it was just her.

And she was no longer Nima, but the Jedi Master Coci Sinopi. Her expression was decidedly less frightened – angry, lined by hatred, unlike the silent composure of a Jedi shadow. And why became abundantly clear as her edges jittered, a snap-slip image of the Taung spirit that had plagued the Silver Jedi showing its nightmarish face before it settled back to Coci.

You want to look the dark in the eyes and survive?​

I have something for you.​

Her illusion extended to the last detail she could pull from his memories, her lightsaber igniting to a brilliant purple. “If you want to face the dark, destroy what brought you here.”

The pull of a sith illusion was nearly undeniable, and all she needed was him to come forward a few steps.

[member="Connor Harrison"] | [member="Nima Tann"]

Spoiler

[member="Reverance"] | [member="Coci Sinopi"]

 

[Connor Harrison]

Connor felt the tap-tap-tap of her talons inside his brain; as if it was pulsating and tightening against the skull, an uncontrollable dull ache that forced him to push against the side of his head to quell the building pressure he felt.

His body was slightly stooped forward, his breathing laboured but controlled. He conjured up all his will to repel that poisonous flow of dark memories that stemmed from [member="Nima Tann"] and his time with her under the possession of the Taung and in the Gardens when he assaulted her. Inside, he knew this wasn’t the Padawan at all…but, it was – this was the physical representation of his own failings and his own doings. This was the Sith helping to show him the demons he was trying to battle, but they were being used at his disadvantage.

It was more real than he could want it to be, and it fuelled him with a dangerous bloodlust to destroy the force behind it; the force behind it was none other than himself.

Looking at Nima, he held out his palm. ”Don’t do this. I didn’t ask for this – “

But he HAD asked for this.

Connor wanted to stare down the darkness that seeped into every crack it could find in the galaxy, slowly edging its way out into society one person at a time. Whilst he was determined to never let the darkness reach him again, it was now closer than ever at breaking him from the inside out – he just had to hold on, to believe in himself and his own shred of humanity that stopped him becoming a monster; a monster like Matsu Xiangu.

”NAAGH!!“

The pressure built in his brain, sending a pain shooting through his head and forcing his body to twist away in a faint show of resilience. Gritted teeth chewed inside his mouth, eyes clamped shut and legs buckled to shake away the panic and helpless that surged through his muscles. And all the while he could hear Matsu laughing in his head, whispering in his ear, holding his body up, stroking his cheek with her cybernetic claw, brushing her lips across his neck, her sharp canines tasting his flesh –

”Fac - “

Spinning to where Nima / Matsu would with intent to repel her, he stopped as the swelling subsided again and what sounded like thunder from the grey skies above rumbled to signal the arrival of Master [member="Coci Sinopi"]. Her eyes were fixed squarely on the volatile Padawan, and there was a look in her eyes that signalled her hatred to him.

”Coci?“

The one who he trusted most in the Order, and the one he had nearly killed. No wonder she hated him – no wonder the Sith had managed to find that distrust she felt for him, that want to crush him and remove his volatile, dangerous and weak ways away from those she loved. The brilliant purple blade snap-hissed into life; making Connor jump, as it was the last thing he had expected.

His heart thumped against the ribcage – ba-dum ba-dum ba-dum

Coci’s cool and unwavering voice, much like her personality, was undeniably raw with taking action, and she spoke directly to Connor’s heart:

“If you want to face the dark, destroy what brought you here.”​

And this was what he must do – this was the path he had walked, where he had left a trail of blood, broken bodies, mistrust, hurt and pain, all to this point. The one he cared for knew what he must do, and Connor knew what he had to do for redemption. He had brought himself here to face the dark, and he himself must be destroyed.

He looked up with a furrowed, focused brow and held his arms out wide before his friend and ally. A snap of thunder echoed overhead as the environment around them crackled, a spectre of the Force crafted from both the Sith and Jedi facing each other to create one dangerous vision of both truth and deception.

Connor took a step forward towards Coci.

”If I am to be destroyed to save my soul from becoming a corrupted monster like you, then I can say that I have done everything right to stand before a Sith and refuse them the victory of taking what is left of me!“

He took two more steps forward, raising his hands.

”There is nothing…NOTHING you can use against me Coci, I am stronger than you think, and I was always meant to stand here before you and prove this!“

His words were becoming unhinged, his vision of reality and dreams blurring. A dangerous thing he wasn’t still in control of.


[member="Matsu Xiangu"]

 

[Matsu Xiangu]

She was so very tired of hearing his voice.

That he – a Jedi Knight (a Jedi Padawan, I know the truth Connor Harrison) – had resisted for this long was strange and she credited the dark he harbored, the amulet pocketed in his greatcoat for his resistance. But those could be used against him. (She is Sith Lord Matsu Xiangu – Darth Yaojing – the shape-shifter, the skin-walker, a witch. She will eat him alive.) Her attention catches on the change from recognizing her construction of the illusion to calling her ‘Coci’ and here she ramps up her pressure, wresting the control he holds on to and sinking her claws in to the base of his brainstem – nerves and primal, rank fear.

“Nothing I can use against you!? I tried to help you Connor – I nearly died for you. I’m not here to hurt you. I came to find you. What are you doing out here?” Coci stepped forward, her saber humming in warning though she held it only in guard. (I don’t want to hurt you Connor. But I don’t trust you. Do you remember what I did for you? Just…stay calm. What are you doing here? Do you even remember how you got here? I’m scared there’s something inside you again.) After a few steps closer she spoke once more, her expression both guarded and concerned. “You could have gotten us all killed. And nearly every day I think of him standing over me, so afraid he was going to lose me, Thurion…”

She paused, surprise filling her eyes as her gaze dropped. “Thurion…”

She seemed to weaken, her free hand going to her stomach as she stumbled closer to Connor.

“Mine forever.”​

The voice of the Taung warrior.​

(To claim what had escaped her grasp, Coci, Connor – all of them.)​

Coci’s voice cracked, fear and desperation in her face as she begged for her fiancé, for the man who could save her – the man she’d almost been taken away from by Connor’s doing, by his possession. “Thurion!” (I’m begging you to save me!)

One more stumble and she was in front of him, terror etched in every line of her face as she reached out for his help – pleading, grabbing at his greatcoat, fear pain hurt agony scared help sick help help help help help – and then her hand latched around the pocket he’d slipped the amulet in to.

“THURIOIIIIAAAȦ̜͙̤̝̼͂̐́̈́̆ͫ́̈̓̾ͦͧ̓̍̚̚A̭̤̘̦̠͇͙̟͇͔̳̝̖͎̼̳̰͙̓̍ͥͥ̓̃̈́̀͋͊̇I̝̱̟͎̬̤̤͚͙̝ͫ̈́̆͗͑̊̄ͤͥͤ͐ͦͦ̑̅̉I͙͓̬̝̠̩̺̗̰ͫ͆̒̓ͨ̽̋̒̾́ͮ̃ͦ͂̇̎̌̚Ḭ̼̝̲̻͉͕̫̥̘͔̮͗̊̏̊ͮ̓̐̂͊͗͒I̜͔͙̔̏̇͗̀̀͋̋͛Ị̩̱̝͖̫̰ͧ͌͌ͫ͒̆͂͋ͣ̅͂̏͑ͣͮ͗̾̆Î͓͕͎͕̬̼̪͉̥̲̜̹̩̲̰͉͆̑̽̾̎̈ͮ̾̐͐͗I͎͔̲̤̳̣̦̪͚̭̠̪̖͗̀̏̅̾I͇̙̞̠̭̫̮͍̜̺̫̗͉̰̱͙͎͓̭͒̽͛̾͛̐ͩ̑͋͐̔ͨ̋̓͌̽ͤ͛Ȉ͙̝̥̪̲̤͇͉̖̜̼̊̾̑Ĩ͙̺͖̀̔̈ͦ̃̌ͯͨḬ̬̖̻̞͖̥̤̪̝̘͋̉ͯͪͧ̅̏ͨͨͮͮ͆̽͒̚̚I̭̠͉͇̥̜̲͇̤͓͑̈̄͊̈́ͥͯ̒͑͗͋̍ͥ̊ͪ̅I͉͚̘͙̖̽ͨ̅ͮ̓̑͒ͨ̀̓̐̈ͭ͊͆͐!”​

​

​

​

​

The sound that escaped her was inhuman – thousands of voices, demons calls, the sounds of the world after this one – as her face elongated, flesh melting from bone as her eyes rolled back in her head. Her jaws snapped apart with a sound that seemed to silence everything else but her shrieks as she dug her fingers in to the coat, holding on to the amulet for all it was worth. (Within the vision Matsu feeds on the power of the amulet, letting her head fall back in pleasure as its dark pushes in to her veins, powers the illusion, makes her monstrous in her capability – there is no resisting this.) And all the sudden she sounds hungry, her face halfway between her own and Matsu’s and the Final Beast takes her due. If he wants to face the dark he can face it forever – she will give him a gift that he will never forget. Her broken jaws unhinge further as her teeth grow to too-long fangs, needles, and she presses the top of her tongue behind them in ecstasy as she takes hold of him.

Z͈͚̪͈̘̟̮̝ͫ̿̏ͬͧ̓ͥĭ̦͋̈ͮn̳̙ͥͩ͗͋̌̐o̟̜̽ͯ̇̽̉ṯ̦̮̐̑ ̼͈̜͉̔̂ͩ̉̆͆ͯs̞͔̓ͥ̔͛̽̃i͕͓̗̮̣̣̔͂͐͑̂ŏ̳͕̫̳̮ͮ͒ͪ̌ͅ ̱̺̹̮̩͛̓d̪̮̘̘̼̻̳͓͕ͩ͐͊̈ͦe̯̼̰͉ͨͥ͌͐̓k̪̖̺̰̬̖͎̹̖̓ͮo̳̬͍̙̖͓͐ͫ̅̊͊ͤͅm̺̣̈́̉ͧ͊̇̂e̙͖̳̜͕̞̩ͥͮͮ̊̀̽̾t̻̞͍̑̊.̭͎͓͔͂̐͆̊̓​

​

​

There is a noise like nails across a chalkboard as a small piece of her magic forms a snake – a little worm to crawl between them and find the hole she tears in him. (Feast. FEAST. EAT HIM ALIVE. MINE. MIIIIIIIIIIIIINE.) She sounds hungry as she screams in his face, throwing him to the ground with the kind of push to form his shape in the earth. There was a time where she had shown this kind of spur-of-the-moment power so often it had been more convention than spontaneity, blasted craters in the Earth around her so large that the ground all around her was pulverized, reborn. Though it had been a while she hadn't lost her touch, the hard bedrock of the clifftop he'd chosen to meet her on exploding out from beneath him as she pushed him down, shards of rock exploding in to the air and forcing herself to shield herself from her own power. She saw the spray of blood, a crimson shine in the ashy light of the sun and imagined all that stone snapping in shards must have severed something in him, made her wonder if she couldn't sit and watch him bleed out. (She'd taken to sitting in someone's mind as they died, sometimes taking control and making them destroy themselves, mutilate their own bodies.)

Then – and only then – she lets go of his mind and dropped the illusion.

For a moment she looks wild, her eyes a bright, roiling amber as she licks her lips and watches him. But she pushes her hair back from her face and after a blink her eyes are dark again, the color leaving her razor-sharp cheekbones and a calm fusing her features again. (Control.)

Her voice is sea-glass. “Go. Tell your Jedi you faced the dark and you survived.”

She can feel her curse slither in his mind, finding a place to bed down and survive in meat all too perfect. Sith magic – a spell lodged in his consciousness, a spell to give him visions, to plague him with his deepest fears. At the worst moments, when he needed to protect himself...when he needed to protect others. Forever. She clicked her durasteel fingers along the inside of her palm, a metal tapping as she considered him for a moment.

“If you can call this surviving.”

Spoiler

[member="Connor Harrison"] | [member="Reverance"] | [member="Coci Sinopi"] | [member="Thurion Heavenshield"] | [member="Nima Tann"]

 

[Connor Harrison]

Connor wasn't scared, but he was confused and sorry - sorry for himself and sorry for the hurt he had caused everyone recently. Watching Coci - MATSU! - stand before him, everything flooded back to his memory, but his vision was clouded by black veins, tendrils creeping in his eyes formed by the talons prying and poking in his brain to create such nightmarish imagery.

He shook his head, the dampness forming in the air making his skin slightly cold and wet, especially on his brow ( or was that sweat, the subconscious fear?). Her voice, her stance, her words - it was [member="Coci Sinopi"], but it wasn't.

"I'm sorry." A mere whisper.

Her words continued to come, her body lurching forward ever so slightly, eyes pleading and voice cracking.

"Please, I tried to fight it - " Connor stepped forward and stretched out his hand, " - you're hurting, you're suffering from the Taung still."

Tears stung his eyes. Not through upset, but through the truth. Hearing how much he had nearly destroyed the very ones who had looked out for him, fought by him, stood by him. His stupidity, his weakness and inexperience had nearly led to the collapse of some of the foundations that built the Silver Jedi and in the process he had lost so much. He really should end it all here.

The sickly voice of the Taung echoed out from inside the vision, and Connor lowered himself quickly to catch her body, writing in pain and a thousands monsters echoing from deep within her throat; eyes closed to fight the pain, her body shaking and clawing his chest.

"I'll fix this...I'll fix everything...I - "

Her clawed hands gripped at the pocket, and Connor snapped his head down to see it, but it was too late as his body went cold.

As the vision started to almost grow in size, Connor gasped in pain and let Coci go, her image blurring into a sickeing, skeletal face that was bubbling, bleeding, decomposing right before him, but yet staring into his soul with empty amber eyes.

"AGGGGH!"

Thrashing his head back, still gripped by the hand over his greatcoat, Sith and Jedi were joined in a unity that was feeding from the darkness growing inside the Lord and implanting itself into the Padawan with a ferocious onslaught. Matsu's wild screams of empowerment echoed across the plateau they were on. Connor had to use all his strength to try and maintain his vision on the Lord, but he was wracked with a throbbing in his head like no other, and he couldn't tear his thoughts away from watching Coci, or whatever it was before him, feed from his own failings.

Amber eyes lock with his blue, and a tight grip lifts him from weak knees, throwing him around and backwards, down into the earth with a dull thud but with such force that Connor slides back over his own body a few feet. Dirt and stone kick up as his limbs roll over the other to an final stillness, covered in grime and swirling dust where he lay.

As Matsu stood where she had all along, enjoying her own perverse penetration of the mind, standing as if she were nothing but invincible, Connor lay silent and couldn't help spasm with the muscles tightening and relaxing, a mild electrifying pulse of pain lacerating each nerve from his toes to his ears.

The Padawan, the Knight - the failure - wanted to vomit, to throw up that sickening feeling of evil that riddled him, but he daren't move and simply caught his breath. Lying on the floor, he twisted his head to see, and hear, the Sith Lord's words. She looked as meak, mild and fragile as ever. He grimaced and felt each breath needle his lungs with a stabbing sensation. Looking up at the dark sky, like a thick swirling drink moving before his eyes in a glass, his hands fumbled over his chest and down to his sides where he felt dozens of small stones embedded in his side.

It felt sickening and alien, dozens of lumpy and coarse stones sticking into his flesh and wet with blood. That's why it hurt to breath. His arm was also bloodied, the scar tissue that he had received from his first trip to Rhen Var was now open, dangerously exposed and oozing clotting blood and torn muscle that had never healed.

It wasn't life-threatening...not yet, but it made Connor feel disgusting and scared of his own body.

It took a moment for him to remember he had control of his body and his brain.

"Of course..."

It hurt to even lift his head and speak and he wretched. The throbbing of the amulet warmed his sore torso, probably for all the wrong reasons. He grunted a few more words.

"I will find you again. Know my name."

He looked at her, that metallic claw and her un-readable face. Fighting all the temptation to close his eyes and sleep, Connor tried to maintain eye contact and not lose to her. But, in reality, he already had. But life wasn't a bad reward for finishing against a Sith Lord.


[member="Matsu Xiangu"]

 

[Matsu Xiangu]

For a moment she doesn’t feel alone.

She felt the slightest flicker of recognition, a stretch across the Galaxy, and though she did not know him she wondered if the man she’d called with some other woman’s voice hadn’t felt the anguish she’d played so well. (Hello, hello, hello. So nice to meet you.)

It hadn’t been her intention to harm him physically. She had no qualms about hurting him, to be sure. She’d felled an entire group of attackers with no use of the Force whatsoever to feel them snap more than once. But it wasn’t her style in one-on-one confrontation, moments where she could take her time and wreck in the way she knew best.

She moved to the edge of the crater she’d blasted away around him, tilting her head and giving him a blank look – somewhat akin to how an alien species might try to interpret someone it couldn’t understand, blinking in curiosity while the rest of her face remained as stone. (And for a moment she wondered if this was how he felt, how Krius had felt before he turned his back and went to his ship to let her die. Maybe in a way, but this was hardly the same – this Jedi wouldn’t die from what she’d done. Not today at least. In time it would in one way or another, as her curse took hold and learned his mind…when he lost control and let someone he loved die in his distraction.)

There was no satisfaction in her small expression. This had been no battle – she had wrested no victory from his fingers. If he ever found her again, perhaps if he survived her long enough to reach mastery, then maybe they could face each other on a more even field. She hadn't been lying to him when she'd said she didn't underestimate anyone purely because they were Jedi - she wasn't foolish enough to believe that just because someone used the Force in a way she didn't meant they had any less skill. But she couldn't find it in herself to be worried. She would look forward to taking her little snake back, ripping it out of his brain and feeding it to someone else.

She squatted down at the smoking edge of the crater he laid within, resting her forearms on her knees. “Looking forward to it, Connor Harrison.”

Lifting herself to standing after watching him fade, she turned from him and made her way back to her stealth ship with a pace that spoke to the fact that she had not a care in the world. She tilted her face to the sky, her features thrown in even sharper relief by the angle as she considered the view he must be looking at – dreary gray sky, tendrils of black smoke from the trash-city below curling towards the clouds.

She hoped if he ever met her again it might be here – such a bleak place to die. She liked the thought of him taking his last breath under this same dead sky, the same she cut through and left him behind underneath.

[member="Connor Harrison"] | [member="Thurion Heavenshield"] | [member="Coci Sinopi"]​

 

[Connor Harrison]

Connor swallowed a dust filled pocket of saliva, grating his throat like sharp needles as the earth settled around him. Fingers resting on the alien lumps of stone that were embedded erratically along the right of his torso through torn clothing, he looked at the Sith Lord who made her surprisingly courteous farewell. The tremor in the Force as she spoke signalled to him that this would not be the last time their auras collided.

Disappearing from the lip of the crater the Silver Jedi was nestled in, Matsu was gone for a short time before the hum of her ships engines began to whine. Craning his neck against aching muscles, Connor pursed his lips as he managed to rest his body up on his left elbow, angled up and slightly forward. He lay, sweat matting on his brow, and watched.

The glow of Matsu's sleek ships engines gave him something to focus on as she left him behind. The glow resembled a piercing eye that started down at the mangled Jedi, all the way with Matsu as she went up and off the surface, into the atmosphere and out to devour her next victim. This was the very nature of the darkness Connor wanted to meet; one that played dirty, deceptive and out for death. Only this time, by toying on the line of good and bad, he had been spared death, but who else would not be - who else that he cared for would fall to her Dark Side power, or any other Sith for that matter.

THAT was the purpose of a defining sword of light; to unite those behind it and cut away the dark piece by piece and build hope where there was none.

No victory cheer. No smug grin. Connor wasn't pleased with himself, but he was confident he had done the right thing to quell the demons in his head that had haunted him for years. He had survived, he had understood and he had endured suffering to learn he wanted nothing more than to be one to lead others against evil like the one who had stood over him moments ago and nearly killed him without so much as breaking a nail.

A talon...a claw to pierce the flesh...

It took Connor a little while to stand, and each breath was difficult. The muscles in his torso aggravated the wounds with each movement. Looking down at his right arm, it was a bloody mess. Tracing down to his side, he could see the black balls and shards of rock and stone that peppered his side with a coating of blood. It turned his stomach and he wretched again, snapping his head away and sucking in as much air as he could.

While his head felt tender, it was no longer sore. It felt...fragile, but he hoped the feeling would pass in time.

Tucking his right arm under his left armpit, he carefully (and a little wobbly) made his way along the crater to crest the edge and, thankfully, smile at his ship still waiting.

Now, he had only one place to go. Voss, to face the Silver Jedi.

....redemption...forgiveness...

...hope for the future.

...family.

Spoiler

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=163_C5UVU-I

[member="Matsu Xiangu"] [member="Coci Sinopi"] [member="Thurion Heavenshield"] [member="Nima Tann"]