Junction The Divide | TSC & TSO & ME Junction of Carratos, Ank Kit'aar, Sarka | IC

[Seren Gwyn]

Seren listened to the apparition's explanation with increasing unease, her amber eyes following its slow movements through the graveyard. The description of the Netherborn was considerably more disturbing than she had anticipated, particularly the suggestion that a host might remain conscious while something else commandeered their body and systematically destroyed everything they cherished. She had encountered enough accounts of possession during her studies to understand that such a fate was possible, but hearing the prospect described with such evident satisfaction made the distinction between scholarly curiosity and personal recklessness rather apparent. The creature's skeletal fingers passed uncomfortably close, and although she resisted the instinct to retreat, her expression cooled considerably.

"You make a compelling argument against inviting one of your kind into my body," she observed, her voice retaining its customary composure despite the revulsion beneath it. "I appreciate the explanation, although I suspect you intended it to be rather more persuasive than reassuring." There was little point in pretending she had not been intrigued by the possibilities. She still was, to a degree, but the prospect of gaining knowledge or power hardly justified surrendering her autonomy to a creature that regarded another person's suffering as nourishment. Whatever questions she continued to ask about her own identity, she had no intention of allowing something else to answer them on her behalf.

Nemesis's observations drew her attention away from the circling apparition. She considered the distinction he described, gradually recognizing why Jerek's initial request had seemed different from those of the other spirits. Rebirth was not merely a means of escaping the Netherworld. It was an opportunity to assume an existence that had once belonged to someone else, complete with their appearance, memories, and desires. That realization troubled her in ways the prospect of possession had not. The creature might genuinely become the person it imitated in every observable respect, yet the individual whose life had ended would remain beyond its reach. What returned would be something new, wearing the familiar face of the dead.

For a moment, Seren said nothing. She thought of Alderaan, of the family she had left behind, and of how little she knew about the lives they had led in her absence. Her older brother would have inherited responsibilities she had never particularly envied, while Dante was only fifteen, young enough that much of what he knew of her probably came from stories rather than memories. There were people she had lost during her years among the Jedi and Sith, certainly, but loss alone did not persuade her that she possessed the right to recreate them. She wondered whether someone who mourned deeply enough might convince themselves that the distinction between a returned loved one and a perfect imitation no longer mattered.

"I understand the appeal," she admitted at last, looking toward Nemesis before returning her attention to Jerek. "To see someone you've lost, hear their voice, perhaps even recover memories that disappeared with them. I imagine there are people who would sacrifice almost anything for such an opportunity." Her expression grew more contemplative. "But the person they mourned would still be dead. Whatever emerged would possess their memories and their likeness, yet it would be another consciousness living a life that wasn't originally its own."

The distinction was not necessarily an argument against the creature's existence. Seren had spent too many years examining the nature of consciousness to dismiss the possibility that something born through such a process could develop an identity deserving of recognition. What concerned her was the expectation that grief should provide the foundation for that identity, and that the living should sustain it through a bond whose obligations remained uncertain.

"And what happens when the person who summoned you begins to recognize the difference?" she asked Jerek. "You would remember being someone they loved, perhaps even feel the affection that person once felt. But you would also be yourself, whatever that eventually means. Would you be free to become someone different, or would the bond require you to remain the person they wanted back?"

She folded her hands before her, unwilling to offer a name merely to satisfy her curiosity. "I have no desire to condemn someone to an existence built entirely around another person's grief. Nor would I knowingly offer a grieving family an imitation and encourage them to believe death had been undone." Her gaze remained steady upon the apparition. "That doesn't mean I believe your desire for life is without merit, Jerek. But before I considered helping you achieve it, I would need to know whether there is a way for you to live as yourself rather than as someone else's replacement."

The question interested her for reasons extending beyond the immediate encounter. She had spent years attempting to distinguish the person she was from the identities others had bestowed upon her. It seemed a peculiar contradiction to defend that freedom in herself while denying it to a being seeking its first opportunity to experience the living world. Yet she was equally unwilling to mistake compassion for permission to meddle carelessly with the dead. For now, she would listen, and perhaps learn something neither the Jedi nor Sith had ever adequately explained.

Tobias Dib

 

[Tobias Dib]

Nemesis watched the creature as he listened to Seren's words. There were arguments for and against allowing the being to take the form of one you knew. Externally, the giant remained impassive and stoic, but internally he warred with himself. He had lost many in his life. Mother and brother. Grandparents. Cousins. Those who raised and shaped him were snuffed out. But there was only one who had broken him irreparably. One whose loss echoed with every beat of his heart, every breath, and every moment since their passing.

His twin brother, Hannibal.

The long-quoted line about entering the galaxy alone and leaving it alone wasn't supposed to apply to him and his brother. They were joined in the womb, born mere moments apart. Han's hand even gripped his heel when he was born first. As infants, they cried when separated and found peace only when they lay in the same crib. As toddlers, they were inseparable. As children, they found mischief together. In the wasteland of the alternate future, they learned to survive side by side. And as the varg swept across every habitable planet, eradicating life without mercy, the twins grew stronger even as their protectors fell.

Tobias and Hannibal Dib hopped from planet to planet ahead of the scourge that devoured and extinguished all life in its path. Until the final planet left with life was Ryloth, home of the Mandragora. A select few remained, giving the twins a chance to go back in time and rewrite their present. To stop the eradication of their galaxy. And it worked. The twins arrived in a past free of the Varg menace by traveling through the Nether and working ancient magik spells. But they found themselves in a past that wasn't their timeline. Their parents, their protectors, and the many historical figures were not the ones they once knew.

Their father wasn't the Dark Lord they had been raised fearful of. Their mother wasn't a Sith who could murder with a look. Their parents weren't even together. And in the confusion of this new life, the twins took different paths—Hannibal with Arabella and Tobias with Muad.

Even with the distance between the twins, they were one when together and one when apart. Until the day Arabella and Han disappeared forever. Unlike his father, Tobias knew they were gone. One moment he was filled with life, and then the next, half his heart and soul ceased to exist.

For over two years, Tobias searched the Nether and every other possible afterlife for his twin, to no avail. That event broke him and shattered the youth known as Tobias Dib. From the ashes rose Nemesis. For almost eight years, he researched, studied, pursued power, and worked toward the day he could be strong and wise enough to raise his brother from perdition.

Having a semblance of his brother brought back was almost too much for him, and he turned away, walking several steps from the creature and Seren. The opportunity to have his brother back was a cruel twist of fate. But it wouldn't be his brother. Han's soul wouldn't exist in the body, and the other half of his heart would remain gone. Even if it were his brother's face, memories, thoughts, and desires, it would never be his brother's soul. Better to keep the pain than embrace a lie. After several moments, he regained his composure and turned back to the pair as unreadable as ever.

The creature floated back and forth in front of Seren, pacing in a semblance of motion, though its feet never touched the ground. Its head cocked to one side as the pale skin of its face writhed as though maggots wormed beneath the veneer. "If I were reborn, I would gain all the memories, thoughts, and desires of the being whose shape I take. But I would know what I am. Imagine it as an occupation. Call me a transport pilot. I would fulfill the position while being more than the title. As time progressed, I would evolve. Perhaps rise higher in the company or choose an alternative occupation. But a transport pilot would always be part of who I would be, if not the primary persona I inhabit."

Nemesis turned his glowing gaze to the creature. "Like the form you wear now. You are not Jerek Aiden. You are too old, knowledgeable, and experienced to be such a young Nether Devil. You chose this facade to be heard. Because you knew we would listen to one lost on Thyferra." The creature stopped its pacing and opened its jaw wide in an imitation of a grin. "Smart boy. I took his form, for he no longer used it. With it, I gained his knowledge. I am not Jedi Jerek, though I feel his emotions seeing you two so soon after the invasion. I wished for my petition to be heard. A desire for rebirth."

"And what do you offer if Seren agrees?" Nemesis had stalked forward, bones crushing to dust beneath his armored boots. The creature looked to Seren, jaw closing from its unhinged appearance. "I will be a companion. A weapon. An instrument of their will, if you wish. My abilities will allow me to travel to the Nether, and using the nonlinear nature of the Nether Realm, I can travel anywhere in the galaxy. I can shapeshift into other forms and personas, though I will revert to my original form. I will be a shield. And, perhaps with time, a willing friend. If you grant me into your service."

The creature stopped pacing and stood before Seren.

Seren Gwyn

 

[Seren Gwyn]

Seren listened to the creature's explanation with the same careful attention she might have given an unfamiliar ritual, searching for the distinctions that mattered beneath its unsettling appearance. The comparison to an occupation was unexpectedly reasonable, though she suspected assuming another person's memories and desires would be far more complicated than changing professions. Nevertheless, the Netherbirthed had answered an important question. It would not be imprisoned within the identity it adopted, nor would it necessarily remain unchanged by the experiences that followed. Whatever emerged from the transformation would possess a consciousness capable of developing beyond its borrowed beginnings, and that possibility deserved consideration.

Her attention briefly shifted to Nemesis as he turned away. She had spent enough time in his company to recognize that his sudden withdrawal was unusual, especially since he had been so intent on examining the creature's nature. Seren could only speculate about what had prompted it. Returning the dead was hardly an impersonal subject, and she knew better than to assume someone who carried himself with such formidable composure had never experienced loss. She let him keep silent rather than intrude on something he had chosen not to share.

The revelation that Jerek Adian was merely another identity the creature had assumed gave her considerably more to contemplate. It had already demonstrated the very process they were discussing, apparently without losing its awareness of what it truly was. That lent some credibility to its explanation, though she wondered what had become of the original Jerek's memories and whether they had altered the creature in ways it did not fully recognize. She also wondered whether it had chosen the unfortunate Jedi's likeness for convenience or because it understood how effectively grief and familiarity could influence the living.

"So you've already undergone something resembling the transformation you're proposing," she observed, studying its borrowed features. "That answers one of my concerns, although I imagine carrying another person's memories must become rather complicated when you've accumulated enough of them."

When Nemesis asked what the creature would offer in return, Seren listened without interrupting. The abilities it described were remarkable. Passage through the Netherworld, movement across extraordinary distances, and the ability to assume different forms would make it an invaluable companion for someone whose research often took her into dangerous, unfamiliar places. She could certainly appreciate the practical advantages, especially the chance to travel between worlds without relying entirely on conventional transportation. Yet the promise of power had never been sufficient to convince her that an agreement was wise. She had learned that lesson through years of studying Sith rituals, where the most appealing bargains often hid their greatest dangers beneath what went unsaid.

"Those are considerable abilities," she acknowledged, her amber gaze steady upon the apparition. "And I won't pretend they wouldn't be useful. But you've described what you can do for me without explaining what it would take to sustain you. You mentioned feeding earlier, and I'd rather understand precisely what that entails before considering any arrangement."

She paused, considering the offer of companionship. The Phantom Hounds had chosen to follow her without demanding possession, obedience, or the surrender of anything she considered essential to herself. Their acceptance had meant something precisely because it was freely given. She wasn't sure the same understanding could exist with a creature that saw service as the price of its rebirth, but she was willing to explore the possibility.

"There's also the matter of whose likeness you would assume," she continued. "I understand why someone grieving might find the offer irresistible. But I haven't lost anyone whose return I would seek through such an arrangement, and I have no intention of inventing a tragedy merely to provide you with a suitable face." Her expression remained thoughtful, not dismissive. "Nor would I want someone standing beside me whose appearance constantly encouraged me to mistake them for a person they could never truly be."

She glanced toward Nemesis before returning her attention to the waiting creature. There was something peculiar about discussing another being's prospective existence as though negotiating the acquisition of a useful artifact. Seren had spent much of her life among people who saw power as justification for ownership, and she was increasingly reluctant to repeat that reasoning just because the opportunity presented itself.

"You speak of becoming a companion, a weapon, perhaps even a friend. Those are three rather different relationships, and I would prefer not to confuse them." A faint, almost rueful smile touched her lips. "I already have companions who chose to accompany me without being compelled. I value their independence as much as their loyalty, and I would expect any arrangement between us to respect yours as well as mine."

She regarded the creature for another moment, her curiosity undiminished despite her reservations. "If your rebirth absolutely requires the identity of someone I have loved and lost, then I cannot offer you what you seek. But if there is another way to accomplish it, I would be interested in hearing about it." Her voice softened slightly. "You say you want life. I'd like to know what kind of life you actually hope to have, beyond being useful to whoever grants it."

For Seren, that question mattered more than the promise of extraordinary abilities. She knew what it was to pursue a particular identity so relentlessly that the reasons for wanting it became obscured. If this ancient creature genuinely wanted an existence beyond the Netherworld, she wanted to know whether it sought the freedom to become something new or merely another chance to exercise power over the living. Until she knew the difference, she would offer neither a name nor a promise.

Tobias Dib