The Sith’ari
“You’re afraid.”
The voice echoed softly from the shrouded figure standing tall against the arid backdrop of the harsh Dathomiri crags. Wrapped in tattered robes and dark garments, the Dark Lord of the Sith looked on with his hand outstretched high.
“Good.”
“The fall will kill you. The sudden stop an end to your tale, destiny stripped away.”
His invisible grasp loosened, his eyes blaring forth like twin orbs of brilliant yellow. With just a slight of hand the tether between them would sever, the Force holding her above the chasm gone.
“Unless you have the STRENGTH and the WILL to survive.”
His eyes shifted to the cliffside near him before flickering back to the dangling form of the former Jedi.
“Use your anger. Your fear, draw upon that dark place for the strength to overcome.”
He let go, his hold severed.
“Or fall.”