The Nightsisters are their Sith

[Jantar Keltainen]

Jantar’s hands moved in a flowing motion. In her mind, she saw the snake willingly approach, and a heartbeat later the creature moved over rock and soil, its powerful muscles squeezing and releasing as it propelled itself toward Jantar.

The Zabrak’s voice was almost more felt than heard when she spoke again. “Feel the dark side. It gives you power. You are in command – in control. You can bend things to your will.”

She was right. From time to time, Jantar had used the Force to make ‘suggestions’ to those whose minds weren’t strong enough to resist. her interaction with the serpent reminded Jantar of those times, except increased by a thousand fold. The snake was not merely biddable – it was enthralled.

Jantar shivered as the Zabrak’s lips brushed her ear. “Now...use that power. Kill it.”

She closed her fingers slowly, visualizing the snake in her hand, her forefinger and thumb in a circle beneath the creature’s head, throttling it.

“Aaah!”

Searing pain shot through her as the snake bit deep. Jantar jerked her hand back and the snake, its will once again its own, slithered away with astonishing rapidity.

She clutched the wrist of her bitten left hand with her right one, looking up at the Zabrak.

“You are not yet ready for the training. But you will be.”

It was not the response she had expected. she looked down at her hand, which was beginning to swell.

“Poisonous?” Jantar managed through gritted teeth. She knew the answer even as she spoke. The pain was increasing, and she felt as if he’d plunged her hand into boiling water. At the same time, she shivered. Jantar realized she was going into shock.

“The venom isn’t lethal, but it has its uses.”

Dizziness and nausea swept over Jantar, and before she knew what had happened she had dropped to her knees. It has its uses? What did she mean by that? Wasn’t she going to treat it? Impossibly, the pain increased. She looked up at the Zabrak. Her form was shifting, blurring, and her voice sounded hollow and distorted.

“The pain will let you access your rage. Accept it – as punishment for your failure.”

As if her words had been instructions to the venom, torment, exquisite in its intensity, spread through Jantar’s body. It was as if her heart pumped liquid fire, not blood, and Jantar could no longer bite back a howl of agony. She fell to the ground, its hard surface unforgiving, the rocks jutting into her skin releasing fresh waves of pain so sharp she couldn’t believe she was still conscious.

She writhed, screaming, and the Zabrak stared down at her, her face a shifting mask of implacable aloofness.

 

[Jantar Keltainen]

Jantar dreamed the dreams of the tortured. Nightmare after nightmare crested over her, visions of shadows and slaughter and pain, both caused and received. Through them all danced the Zabrak.

Finally, Jantar opened her eyes to discover a serpent twining about her body, its triangular head slithering beneath her chin. She yelped and sprang back, adrenaline surging through her. The snake, disinterested, slithered away, and Jantar forced her breathing to slow.

The scalding agony was gone. In its place was sluggishness, as if she were swimming through mud. Mist hung low on the ground, obscuring her vision – or was it the lingering effects of the snake’s bite? No, she could feel moist air clinging damply to her skin.

She became aware of a slight rustling behind her. Turning, she was greeted by the sight of yet another snake – this one as thick as her arm and three metres long. She got to her feet and stumbled away from it, moving far too slowly and with too much exertion. The snake was also averse to confrontation, and slithered off in search of its breakfast.

“Time to test your Sith training.”

Jantar realized her lightsaber had been placed within easy reach. She picked it up with clumsy fingers.

The Zabrak’s voice seemed to come from everywhere. Jantar’s thinking was still torpid, and she looked around, trying to spot her, wondering what lesson she had in store. She heard the snap-hiss of a lightsaber and awkwardly activated her own as the Zabrak leapt on her from above.

Thanks to the lingering effects of the venom – and simple disbelief – Jantar registered that she was deadly serious barely in time to step back and parry her strike. The Zabrak sprang adroitly over her head and Jantar turned, again nearly moving too slowly to prevent her from slicing her in half.

Their blades clashed and sizzled, and she moved forward, her face mere centimetres from the Zabrak’s . A cruel smile curved her full lips. “Very good, Jantar,” she said, almost mockingly. “At least you know how to fight back.”

She executed a backward flip, landing in a crouch atop a large boulder.

“But can you finish the job?” And with a quick leap, the Zabrak vanished into the fog.

 

[Jantar Keltainen]

What was she talking about? They were supposed to be partners – one the teacher and one the student. Why would she kill the one person entrusted to train her?

The zabrak’s laughter, cold and cruel, chilled Jantar more than the increasingly thick mist. She stepped forward, moving toward where she had last seen her, reaching out in the Force to try to locate her. Her head was starting to clear, and irritation replaced confusion. Whatever she was doing, it wasn’t necessary, and it was starting to make her angry. They were wasting time in a foolish–

A second time, the hum of the Zabrak’s lightsaber alerted Jantar to the Nightsister’s presence, and she again whirled to parry her attack from behind. Her face was contorted in a snarl, and she came at Jantar full force.

The Zabrak rained blows upon her, not holding back, pushing in for the kill. Unwilling to harm her once chance of learning the Nightsister’s secrets, Jantar took one step back, then another, concentrating on blocking the attacks. The damp air muffled the sizzle of lightsabers clashing in deadly earnest.

Still the Zabrak pressed the attack. Something inside Jantar snapped. A furious cry escaped her lips and she moved onto the offensive. This time, it was the Zabrak who was forced to give ground as she advanced on her, swinging her lightsaber so swiftly it was little more than a yellow blur. As she drew back to strike again, her hand shot forward and closed on her throat, her Force-imbued fingers digging into warm flesh, lifting her easily into the air and hurling her to the ground.

The Zabrak hit the ground hard, sprawling with an utter lack of grace. She coughed, one hand massaging her throat. Jantar found herself standing over her, lightsaber raised for the next blow, but instead a smile touched the Zabrak’s lips.

“You see?” she said, her voice rough, the faint shadows of a bruise already starting to form on her throat. “Your desire to sate your anger allowed you to lose control and this has made you powerful!”

Jantar lowered her lightsaber and switched it off. The red rage that had coloured her thoughts was fading. So, it really had been a test, and nothing more. Jantar frowned. She did not like being toyed with – however valuable the lesson.

 

[Jantar Keltainen]

But before she could say anything, The Zabrak had leapt to her feet and was again racing into the mist. What now? Her lips pressed together in a tight line and she pursued. This game had gone far enough.

And a game it was. Over and over again, the Zabrak allowed him to glimpse her just long enough to keep her in sight. They leapt over fallen tree trunks, ducked beneath chunks of stone. Jantar realized that the Zabrak’s path was taking them to the mountain nearby. It was clearly a ploy. Jantar was destined to face some sort of a trial there.

And she was ready. she knew it. She could take anything the Zabrak could throw at her.

The Zabrak raced into the open now, her slender, long legs bearing her easily across the stone to the gaping mouth of a cavern. She vanished into darkness. Jantar ran behind her, slowing as she felt the cool fingers of a shadow caress her. She held her lightsaber before her and moved cautiously, reaching out into the Force to try to sense the Nightsister.

Jantar walked between stalagmites and emerged into an interior space of both darkness and beauty. But this cavern was gargantuan, and what it housed was vast and compelling in its scope and strange loveliness.

Most of the illumination came from pools of water that glowed a soft, mesmeric shade of blue. Here and there, thin streams of water poured from above, their source so high as to be shrouded in darkness. The dim lighting revealed that those who had constructed this place had worked in tandem with nature.

Towering stalagmites jutted from the cerulean pools, their peaks so high that they vanished into the darkness above. Into these natural formations had been carved doors, windows, stairways, and overlooks at several levels. Specks of what looked to be phosphorescent stone augmented the azure light. No doubt, once, there had been torches, as well.

Jantar stepped forward into a wide-open area of flat stone. Here and there she saw remnants of ordinary life: overturned pitchers and vases, braziers, bowls.

It would have been one of the most beautiful places Jantar had ever beheld, if it had not been so steeped in the dark side. It was strong here; controlled, directed. At the far side of the open area, she saw an altar, and wondered what sorts of horrors it had borne witness to. Perhaps once, this had been no more than a cavern, a neutral place, eventually permeated by the energy left over from centuries of dark work. Or perhaps it had always dwelled on the edge of darkness.

 

[Jantar Keltainen]

It didn’t matter.

Jantar sensed the Zabrak’s presence, but the location was muddied, difficult to pinpoint. Moving silently, Jantar made her way to a smaller stalagmite and sprang out from behind it with a grunt, her lightsaber swinging.

But the Zabrak wasn’t there. She was behind her, screaming as she swung her glowing orange blade. Jantar was forced to dodge. Swift as a thought, The Zabrak raced past and whirled to face her.

“You are strong,” she said, and to Jantar's surprise she stepped back and extinguished her lightsaber. Uncertain as to her intent, Jantar hesitated.

“This part of the test is over.”

Jantar nodded and switched off her own lightsaber. “What now?”

The Zabrak turned and looked out over the blue pools. “A major component of Nightsister magicks is a fluid that we call the Water of Life,” she said.

“From these lakes?” Jantar guessed.

“Not exactly. The Water of Life is...harvested.”

Jantar’s dark brows knit. “I’m not following you.”

“The depths of these pools have never been plumbed. All we know is that they are very deep indeed, and they are home to many creatures. There is one that the Nightsisters called the Sleeper. To fully be accepted as an adult, a young woman of my clan undergoes a rite of passage. Using her Force abilities, she must awaken the Sleeper, dominate it, and force it to remove a piece of its body.”

“A trophy?” Jantar surmised.

“No. An ingredient. That piece of the Sleeper is boiled with water from the pool and other items to create the Water of Life. The Sleeper is very strong-willed. To lose control over it, even for a moment, would mean the initiate’s death.”

“What’s the catch? Simply controlling an animal, even a strong-willed one, is fairly easy, isn’t it?”

“It would be – if this creature were just an animal.” The Zabrak said. “But understand, the creature is the Sleeper, not a Sleeper. It’s ancient. The stories about it go back to the earliest days of my clan. You can sense how strong the dark side is here. Everything, even the wildlife, has been touched by it in some way. The Sleeper can only be awakened and controlled if someone thoroughly subjugates it with dark side power.”

“I see,” Jantar said. She looked back over the water. “Well, let’s get on with it then.”

She placed a hand on her arm. “Not yet. I will share with you what I know of the sleeper.” The Zabrak smiled a little. “And now you will understand why I wanted you to build up your endurance. Your next exercise will require swimming – and holding your breath.”

 

[Jantar Keltainen]

“The pools in the cavern are opaque, so your vision will be limited. You might also want a pair of goggles that will let you see beyond the visible spectrum.”

Jantar thought about it as she carved off a chunk of a small lizard turning on the spit, then shook her head. “No. That doesn’t feel right. The whole point of this test, as I understand it, is for me to dominate it with my ability in the Force, not with technology.”

She bit into the chunk of mild-tasting flesh. “So, what else can you tell me?”

The Zabrak looked at her. “What any initiate is told. It’s large, terrifying to look at, and physically powerful. And as I’ve said, its will is impressive.”

“You mentioned swimming and holding my breath,” Jantar said. “I take it I’ll be fighting it underwater?”

“Ideally, no,” the Zabrak replied. “The Sleeper can be lured onto land, and of course you’d have the advantage there. But you need to be prepared for anything.”

“So...what does this thing look like?” Jantar asked. She forced herself to eat more than usual. she would shortly be burning thousands of calories a day in training.

“It varies from person to person,” she said. “Some claim it is the same hue as the water. I saw it as pure white. Someone said the Sleeper had enormous eyes and pincers. I thought it had tentacles. The one thing everyone agrees on is that they were terrified. It seems if you don’t control it quickly and get dragged into the water – presumably by pincers or tentacles – you risk coming into contact with the substance you’re trying to harvest. That can cause hallucinations.”

 

[Jantar Keltainen]

Dathomir was not without its oceans, and Jantar soon grew intimately familiar with them. They began with simple submersion. Jantar’s Sith training gave her excellent control over both her mind and her body, which would be the key to her success. If she stayed calm throughout, her heart rate would remain slow and her body would not burn more oxygen than was absolutely necessary. Well aware that if she didn’t establish and keep control over the Sleeper at the outset she would certainly be involved in combat, she practiced fighting creatures underwater as well.

“Your training is coming along well,” The Zabrak said one evening as they ate stew prepared with a burra fish Jantar had killed that day.

“I am glad you think so,” she said. she hesitated, then asked, “What about...after?”

The Zabrak eyed Jantar as she helped herself to more stew. “What about after?”

“When I’ve succeeded in the test.”

“Then you will be ready to be taught our magicks.”

 

[Jantar Keltainen]

The two were silent as they made their way to the caverns. Jantar felt the caress of the dark side as they entered the open area, and her thoughts were myriad and chaotic.

The Zabrak paused as they approached the blue water of one of the cavern lakes. “What is it?” Jantar asked.

They stood near a pool on the open, flat-stoned area near the altar. Its water was neither clear nor blue, but a rich inky black. The Zabrak pressed her lips together.

Then she stepped back and held out her hand for Jantar’s lightsaber. The Nightsisters had no weapons when they faced the Sleeper; neither would Jantar. This was a battle of the mind.

Jantar turned and stepped toward the edge of the pool.

“Jantar,” the Nightsister called. “Don’t rush this. Make sure you’re ready when you call it.”

Jantar nodded. She had not asked the Zabrak if she would aid her if she got in trouble, and she had not volunteered. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answer, and she had no plans to find out.

 

[Jantar Keltainen]

She began with adjusting her breathing; slow, deep, and rhythmic. Jantar felt oxygen saturating her blood and being pumped through her heart, gaining the control that the Zabrak had assured her was vital to her victory over this mysterious, and apparently horrifying, Sleeper. She opened to the darkness, felt it almost physically curling around her.

Jantar inserted an aquata breather into her mouth but remained on the pool’s edge. And then she reached out with her mind. There were many life-forms in this water, from tiny single-celled organisms to moderately sized fish and crustaceans. They were simple, uncomplicated, and she brushed their consciousnesses gently and continued searching. Down her mind went, into the depths of the indigo murky waters.

Some things hid in underwater caverns. Some swam freely. But Jantar sensed one life-form that was more complex than the rest; more complex, and very, very...old.

Ancient.

 

[Jantar Keltainen]

It dreamed. Jantar understood, as she brushed it with the Force, that it had been dreaming for some time, undisturbed. Jantar steeled herself and, still willing her body to remain calm, allowing her mind to gradually open to the Sleeper. She felt it stir unhappily, resisting the Sith with surprising strength even in this state.

‘Awaken.’

It would not. Jantar lifted a hand and spread her fingers, calling out to the unseen beast.

‘Awaken!’ she demanded.

And then the Sleeper’s consciousness snapped into full presence. It was not sullen or sluggish, but instantly alert and focused, and that focus was on Jantar. Jantar grunted slightly with the effort, knowing that she could not lose the upper hand even for a moment. She harnessed her concern, and twisted it into anger and resentment.

‘Rise. I will it to be so.’

And it did. She felt this impossibly old creature stir from its cavern, where it had rested and dreamed dreams unimaginable, and slowly, balefully, move upward. A bubble rose to the surface of the thick blue water, popping with a sludgy wet noise. A second bubble followed, then another.

Two huge lavender eyes, each the size of Jantar’s head, emerged from the water. They swiveled on narrow stalks, seeming to look in every direction at once, then locked onto Jantar standing at the edge of the pool. A wave of resentment that was so powerful it was almost physical buffeted Jantar. She didn’t hesitate. She harnessed the hatred and hurled it right back at the Sleeper, who shuddered.

‘I said rise! All the way! Obey me and come onto the land!’

 

[Jantar Keltainen]

For a terrible instant, Jantar was certain she had failed. The Sleeper did not move. Then, slowly, fighting her command all the way, it did. It reared up, and up, seven metres long, revealing a long, carapace-covered body, quivering antennae, and four appendages.

The first pair appeared to be sickles as long as it was, tapering to spear-like points. The other limbs were narrow where they attached to its body, expanding into large clubs at the end. This set of legs the Sleeper kept tightly curled.

Jantar noted all this in a heartbeat, but what astounded her most was how beautiful it was. Its limbs and eyes must have seemed ghastly to a child who had never ventured beyond her own world, but Jantar had seen more frightening things.

No, it was the kaleidoscope of colours that made the Sleeper so visibly remarkable. Every hue Jantar could dream of – or have nightmares about – adorned it. She had known other species to have eyes similar to the Sleeper’s, which could see five or ten more colours than she could. But the Sleeper’s eyes were even more complex, and Jantar briefly wondered if this creature was so difficult to subdue because it might be able to actually see the Force.

 

[Jantar Keltainen]

It was an effort to keep her attention focused, but Jantar managed. her anger hot but her body calm, Jantar stepped backward, not knowing how much room the thing would take up once it had clambered onto land. Just as it reached the place where she had stood a moment ago, its sickle-legs shot out with astonishing speed, impaled themselves into the surface so hard the stone cracked, and heaved its bulk onto land.

Jantar had assumed the creature was a sort of crustacean, but once it was wholly out of the water, she realized that its lower appendages were not legs, but tentacles, long and shiny and every shade of blue imaginable and probably more. So astonished was she that for just a moment, Jantar felt her control waver.

The Sleeper felt it, too, and gathered itself for an attack. Immediately Jantar lifted both her hands and Force-shoved it so it slid along the rocky surface, smashing into a stalagmite. Hatred, cold and pure, wrapped around Jantar, and she met it.

‘You. Will. Obey!’

It fought her for a moment, its massive body rocking back and forth, tentacles and legs flailing.

‘Stop.’

The cold hatred brightened with a sharp sensation of pain. Jantar’s will was hurting the beast. she strengthened her power in the Force, cruel and harsh, and the creature subsided. It tucked its limbs in close to its body, and its tentacles ceased wriggling.

 

[Jantar Keltainen]

Jantar took a deep breath but didn’t lessen her intense control. She’d done it. And she hadn’t even needed the aquata breather.

She pulled it out so she could speak. “I don’t need to make it cut off a limb, do I?” she called out, not taking her eyes from the enormous, almost pixilated ones of the Sleeper.

“No.” The Zabrak’s voice was strangely heavy with regret. “Jantar...listen to me, but don’t let your attention waver.”

The Sith felt a flicker of unease. The creature’s tentacles undulated, sensing it, waiting to exploit any crack in her will. “Okay,” she said. “I’m listening.”

“You have to kill it.”

Jantar’s shock lasted only a fraction of a second, but it was enough. With a blast of triumphant loathing, one of the Sleeper’s tentacles whipped around Jantar. Together they tumbled beneath the pool’s surface.

 

[Jantar Keltainen]

Jantar’s face struck the water hard, and her aquata breather flew from her hand. The tentacle’s pressure against her chest compressed her ribs, forcing her to expel air in a rush of bubbles that meant life.

Her empty lungs clamoured for breath, and her internal organs felt like they were being slowly squeezed to pulp. One arm was trapped, immobilized at her side. she could barely see in the milky-blue depths, and panic made her heart race.

Through sheer will, Jantar slowed its beating as she had practiced. Abruptly she was hauled through the water again, to come to a stop less than a metre away from the Sleeper’s face. Two flat, teardrop-shaped scales beneath its eyes turned from sickly green to a pulsing, angry red. Jantar realised that the change signalled an imminent attack.

Without thinking, only trusting completely in the Force, she shoved her free hand toward the second set of clublike legs with enough power that the trajectory of the blow was altered.

The strike was faster than she could see. Suddenly the water around Jantar was boiling from the intensity of the shock wave, clouding the blue water with black liquid and ragged chunks of the Sleeper’s own tentacles. The spots that had been red before now were the colour of an angry bruise; it had struck itself, not Jantar, with pulverizing force. An earsplitting rumble of pain assaulted Jantar’s ears. she fought to keep from wasting her rapidly dwindling supply of air in her own agonised cry as the bubbling, boiling water scalded her flesh.

 

[Jantar Keltainen]

Taking advantage of the Sleeper’s distraction, Jantar used the Force to propel herself upward, gasping for air as her head broke the surface and she struck out for the safety of land. Pain shot through her; the Sleeper had struck her a glancing blow with one of its razor-sharp sickles, and she could feel it growing maddened from the sudden flow of her blood in the water.

She sensed another tentacle reaching for her and whirled, Force-grabbing the appendage and squeezing it tight. Again, the Sleeper rumbled in pain, its focus on her broken. Jantar used the few seconds of respite to clamber onto the stone, then turned and seized the creature in the Force.

She closed her eyes and directed a command with every bit of strength she had, and the Sleeper grew still. It was no longer angry, or bloodthirsty, or filled with hatred.

The Sleeper was terrified.

Jantar drew in great, ragged gulps of air, her body straining with tension. She heard the Zabrak’s voice shouting at her, “What are you waiting for? Kill it, Jantar!”

And yet, even now, after the battle, she hesitated. The Sleeper had no evil in it. It was a simple creature, innocent of knowing wrong from right. It only wanted to be left undisturbed, and when threatened, it had protected itself. What would this unnecessary killing prove? And why should she care?

“It’s obeyed me twice! Why do I need to kill it?”

“Because to fully understand our magick, you need to immerse yourself in the dark side. If you can’t use the dark side to kill now, can you do so later, when it truly matters? Or will you let your last vestiges of compassion destroy everything?”

 

[Jantar Keltainen]

Tears stung her eyes; tears, as she had just been accused, of compassion. Jantar desperately wanted to send the Sleeper back to its peaceful burrow, to let it rest and heal from its wounds. The Zabrak would be disappointed and angry, but Jantar would find another way to learn the Nightsister’s secrets.

But in her heart, she understood the distinction the Zabrak had made. What Jantar had been ordered to do wasn’t just killing. It was assassination; it was murder – it was deed without reason – and purpose had always dictated her actions to date.

And now, the Zabrak wished her to snuff out the life of a simple beast that didn’t have to die. Jantar gained nothing directly from the killing. She was not being trained, she was being tested.

The moment stretched, taut, each passing second draining Jantar further. She could delay no longer.

She made her choice.

 

[Jantar Keltainen]

She focused on her earlier fear: the helplessness she had felt, and her anger at it. She narrowed her eyes, calling up the hatred and rage, feeling them burst into her, white-hot and so very powerful.

This was her true enemy – fear. Yes, it was an ally if harnessed, but it could also be debilitating. Jantar extended her hand, slowly, deliberately, taking the time to truly experience the emotions as they translated from thought to action.

‘Die.’

The Sleeper’s head snapped back. Puzzlement flowed through it, then cold, primal, simple fear. So pure. So strong. So…liberating.

Jantar lifted the Sleeper from the water, continuing to manifest her emotions into a Force energy while simultaneously suffocating it.

It suffered as it died. Jantar cleared her mind of everything but this moment, as it writhed in agony, its powerful punches and spear-like limbs striking only air. With a final spasm, the great beast crumpled. Jantar released it. It splashed into the water, sinking for a moment, then floated, partially submerged.

Jantar stared at it. Her body was tingling. Her heart raced, but not with fear – with exultation. So engrossed was she in the sensation of unleashing such power that she didn’t hear the Zabrak approach until her voice said, right beside the Sith.

“Jantar?”

 

[Jantar Keltainen]

Jantar whirled, her hand raised for an instant before her mind cleared and she let her arm fall. The Zabrak appeared to understand, looking at her with pride and not a little awe.

“Jantar,” she went on, laying a hand on her arm, “You’ve come so far in such a short time. I’m impressed.”

Words crowded Jantar’s mouth, but she spoke none of them. Not about the sharp delight she had taken in brutally asphyxiating an innocent creature. Not about the desire to do it again, and to harness that power and unleash it any way she chose.

She couldn’t speak, either, of the wrenching sadness that permeated her as she realised that something in her had broken, or the delight at having been freed of its shackles.

She didn’t need to. She could sense the Nightsister, proud and pleased, she knew what she was feeling almost as much as Jantar felt it.

“And so your training begins.”