The Prophet's Song
“Marcus, what is the purpose of sacrifice?”
Marcus, who had been looking out the window of the transport at the rapidly approaching Palace of Alvaria, turned his gaze toward Silas Fogg, who sat across from him. “It depends on who is doing the sacrificing,” he replied, eyes distant as he searched his visions for the right answer that would satisfy his mentor. “But I know that you mean Sith sacrifice.”
“Just answer the question,” Silas said, with a slight roll of his piercing blue eyes.
“The Sith perform sacrifices to the glory of the Dark Side,” Marcus continued. “But they always get something out of it in return. Power, usually. We use sacrificial blood to temper our swords, and kill to create life. That is what you plan on having me do here, isn't it?” He had yet to perform a sacrifice yet during his alchemy training.
"Right as always." Silas nodded. “What about the Jedi?”
“They sacrifice themselves for the Light Side.” He smirked. Someday he would disabuse a Jedi of such self-righteous vanity.
The transport alighted on the palace’s landing pad, where they would soon be met by Darth Malum, the ruler of this world. Silas stood up. “Let me do the talking,” he said sternly. “Do not interrupt.”
“Not even if you’re about to say or do something that will get you killed?” Marcus asked innocently. His visions told him there was a very low probability of such an outcome, but it wasn’t zero.
His remark achieved the desired effect from Silas, who cast a wary glance the boy’s way. The master alchemist would not admit it, but he would let Marcus speak freely now.
They exited the shuttle together.
Marcus, who had been looking out the window of the transport at the rapidly approaching Palace of Alvaria, turned his gaze toward Silas Fogg, who sat across from him. “It depends on who is doing the sacrificing,” he replied, eyes distant as he searched his visions for the right answer that would satisfy his mentor. “But I know that you mean Sith sacrifice.”
“Just answer the question,” Silas said, with a slight roll of his piercing blue eyes.
“The Sith perform sacrifices to the glory of the Dark Side,” Marcus continued. “But they always get something out of it in return. Power, usually. We use sacrificial blood to temper our swords, and kill to create life. That is what you plan on having me do here, isn't it?” He had yet to perform a sacrifice yet during his alchemy training.
"Right as always." Silas nodded. “What about the Jedi?”
“They sacrifice themselves for the Light Side.” He smirked. Someday he would disabuse a Jedi of such self-righteous vanity.
The transport alighted on the palace’s landing pad, where they would soon be met by Darth Malum, the ruler of this world. Silas stood up. “Let me do the talking,” he said sternly. “Do not interrupt.”
“Not even if you’re about to say or do something that will get you killed?” Marcus asked innocently. His visions told him there was a very low probability of such an outcome, but it wasn’t zero.
His remark achieved the desired effect from Silas, who cast a wary glance the boy’s way. The master alchemist would not admit it, but he would let Marcus speak freely now.
They exited the shuttle together.
