Alina rose slowly, one hand still resting lightly on the survivor's shoulder as she helped him to his feet. The man wavered at first unsteady, pale but Alina steadied himwith a gentle touch and a quiet presence that seemed to hold more weight than her physical strength alone.
"He'll be fine," she said softly, glancing over to Aiden with a faint nod. "It'll take time, but the worst is behind him."
The golden light of her saber flickered subtly in the gloom as she turned, casting soft illumination over the dust-choked walls and the makeshift barricade that had shielded these people for far too long. She could still feel the remnants of their fear clinging to the room like damp air but underneath that was something else. A thread of resilience. The will to survive. To hope.
She stepped toward Aiden, her free hand brushing back a lock of damp hair that had slipped free of her braid. "Almost done here I think, get them to the roof.."
Alina stood still, her eyes narrowing as the tremor in the Force deepened—below them, something twisted was stirring. Angry. Hungry. The darkness coiled like a storm waiting to break, and buried within it… a single flicker of life. Faint. Dimming. But still there.
Aiden was focused on the others, guiding them to safety. She turned toward him, her voice calm and composed.
"I'll wait for you here before we move on."
It was a lie. But a necessary one.
She waited until he disappeared down the corridor with the survivors, their steps echoing faintly down the hall. Only then did she ignite her saber once more. The golden blade hissed to life, casting its glow across the scorched floor.
She stepped over to the far corner of the room just above where the survivor clung to life and plunged the blade downward. Molten lines traced a clean circle in the duracrete, and with a pulse of the Force, she sent the section of flooring down in a controlled collapse.
Alina dropped through the opening in a swift, silent motion, her cloak trailing behind her as she landed in the dark.
The air below was thick with decay. The Force churned violently, but she ignored it focused only on the figure crumpled near the far wall, barely breathing.
She was at their side in moments, kneeling, hand pressed to their chest. Her eyes closed as she summoned the Force not in a surge, but in a steady stream of warmth and strength. The pain eased. Breathing steadied. Color returned to their face, and though their eyes remained shut, she could feel the shift they weren't slipping away anymore.
"Not today," she whispered.
Alina stood, raising her free hand toward the hole above. The Force gathered around the survivor, lifting them gently into the air as if held by unseen hands. They floated upward, motionless but safe, until they reached the room above.
With a final push, she set them down gently on the floor and exhaled, relief passing through her like a quiet breeze.
Then, reaching upward, she drew the broken paneling back into place with precise movements, sealing the floor behind her.
The silence returned, but Alina didn't flinch.
Now came the hard part.
The corruption behind the door was palpable thick and oppressive, like a living thing pressed against the other side, breathing with shallow, fetid rasping. Alina stood before it, saber in hand, her body still but her shoulders tight with tension. This wasn't like the floors above. Whatever had nested here… it had grown in the dark. Saturated the air. Twisted the Force.
She ignited her lightsaber with a sharp snap-hiss, golden light cutting across the ruined corridor. With a slow, steady breath, she dragged the blade in a vertical arc, then again across the top. Sparks showered around her boots as the molten metal hissed and bubbled. Then she reached out with the Force and shoved the warped slab inward.
The door exploded off its hinges with a shriek of metal, and the darkness surged forward.
Alina staggered a step back, gritting her teeth as the wave of rot and rage washed over her. The Force here was thick with anguish feral and clawing. The Rakghouls inside were no longer just infected. They were drenched in the dark side, eyes burning with unnatural hatred, skin stretched and ruptured with mutation.
She shoved her fear down buried it and stepped forward.
Light answered first. She raised both hands, drawing in the ambient Force with a guttural breath. It burned on the way out—Radiance, summoned not with ease but with sheer force of will. A burst of searing white erupted from her palms, cracking across the room like lightning.
The front ranks crumpled instantly, vaporized mid-charge. But there were more. Too many. They came from the corners, from holes in the ceiling, from beneath collapsed furniture snarling, shrieking, relentless.
Alina pushed forward, her limbs beginning to tremble with effort.
She shifted, pulling from a different current now pyre. Her hand swept across her body in a wide arc, and a wave of flame ignited in response. It scorched the far wall, catching a cluster of Rakghouls in the blaze. She felt the heat singe her robes, sweat beading at her brow. The room lit up in flashes of orange and gold—and still they came.
A cry escaped her lips as one raked its claws across her arm just a glancing blow, but enough to shake her footing. She dropped low, pivoted, and drove her saber upward into its chest with a burst of effort, its body slumping lifeless to the floor.
Her breath came faster now. Labored.
Still moving.
Still fighting.
Another came for her flank. She turned, lifted her hand again—not fire this time. Frost. Her fingers trembled as the temperature around her plummeted, ice spreading rapidly across the floor. Spears of frozen air erupted beneath the last wave of Rakghouls, impaling them mid-charge. But her vision blurred with the effort, her knees nearly buckling under the strain.
This wasn't a display. It was survival—every ounce of her control being spent to end what should never have existed.
And at last… silence.
Alina stood in the center of the room, shoulders rising and falling with ragged breath. The light of her saber wavered in her grip as she dropped to one knee, palm braced against the cracked floor, catching herself.
Everything hurt—her limbs, her lungs, her connection to the Force stretched to its limit.
But the room was clear. The darkness was gone.
She let the saber flicker out, the golden blade vanishing into the hilt with a soft snap. And in the silence that followed, she whispered to no one in particular—just to the ashes and the dead. She slowly stood once more, her free hand resting over the wound on her arm the force beginning to mend the flesh.
Alina Grayson
