Shattered Sword
Eyes fluttered open to a dimly lit room, washed in a vibrant blue reflection of a nearby bacta tank. Lorn lay motionless for a second, trying to process the sudden quiet. Was he actually alive? Panic surged before he could stop it. Hands moved frantically, patting down his thighs and shins to make sure his legs still worked.
Mercy
had absolutely crushed his body in that refinery, but sensation slowly reported back through his nerve endings. He could feel them again, thank Shiraya.Seeking to center himself, Lorn instinctively called upon the Force to quiet his racing heart. Darkness struck him right back with blinding violence. The rune carved into the side of his face flared like open flame, punishing him instantly for daring to touch the Light. Agony throbbed through his cheek and jaw, forcing a ragged gasp from his lips as the memory of the attack returned.
Coward. That was what Mercy had carved into his flesh. A permanent warning for everyone around him, and a cruel reminder to himself. Taking his best shot at the Sith Empress didn't feel like cowardice, but waiting so long to make the hard choice certainly did. Hesitation had cost him everything once again.
Movement beyond the threshold caught his attention as a familiar presence lingered just outside the medical ward, or at least he thought.
"Acier!" Lorn shouted, his voice hoarse from days of disuse, demanding an explanation from the young wolf.
