[member="Darth Vitium"]
Mierin appeared before Silara, the woman dressed in the same crowning gold and white as before. She was rarely seen outside the style now, harkening back to times of old. Some would have said she was growing nostalgic, others would have stated she was growing used to the idea of her coming death.
If asked, Mierin would say it was both.
Silara was making quick progress, and even quicker strides. Every day the girls power grew and every day her understanding of Sith Magic, and the force, grew as well. It was satisfying to see, an apprentice actually worth what they claimed to be, someone who could learn. Yet Mierin knew that with every passing day that Silara grew stronger, her own death would come closer.
It was the Dark Lords will.
It would be done.
Mierin had no qualms about dying, no qualms about death. She had outlived everything and everyone she had ever known by thousands of years. Chaos would welcome her with open arms, that much she was certain of.
“You grow strong.” Mierin said quietly. “Soon.”
Those were the only words that Mierin said before the next lesson began. Silara had taken well to the control of minds, one of Mierins most powerful and useful tricks. Why she had been a diplomat and a teacher, why she had been so good as a Hand. Next she would learn why Mierin had been feared, why the Dark Lords Hand had killed Jedi Councilors, and Mand'alors.
So it went like this, for week after week until Silara had grasped all that Mierin had to offer. The creation of Bubbles of Protection, The Nets of the Darkside, and the waves of dread that one could summon at merely a thought.
Silara was taught it all, until one day there was nothing more to teach. On that day Darth Mierin came to the courtyard, not dressed in fine white linens, no hint of gold, but instead mournful robes of pure black. Her eyes were alight, her gaze drifting over to her apprentice, a look of pride within her eyes. She seemed almost happy, almost content. “It's time.”
Those were her only words that day.
Mierin appeared before Silara, the woman dressed in the same crowning gold and white as before. She was rarely seen outside the style now, harkening back to times of old. Some would have said she was growing nostalgic, others would have stated she was growing used to the idea of her coming death.
If asked, Mierin would say it was both.
Silara was making quick progress, and even quicker strides. Every day the girls power grew and every day her understanding of Sith Magic, and the force, grew as well. It was satisfying to see, an apprentice actually worth what they claimed to be, someone who could learn. Yet Mierin knew that with every passing day that Silara grew stronger, her own death would come closer.
It was the Dark Lords will.
It would be done.
Mierin had no qualms about dying, no qualms about death. She had outlived everything and everyone she had ever known by thousands of years. Chaos would welcome her with open arms, that much she was certain of.
“You grow strong.” Mierin said quietly. “Soon.”
Those were the only words that Mierin said before the next lesson began. Silara had taken well to the control of minds, one of Mierins most powerful and useful tricks. Why she had been a diplomat and a teacher, why she had been so good as a Hand. Next she would learn why Mierin had been feared, why the Dark Lords Hand had killed Jedi Councilors, and Mand'alors.
So it went like this, for week after week until Silara had grasped all that Mierin had to offer. The creation of Bubbles of Protection, The Nets of the Darkside, and the waves of dread that one could summon at merely a thought.
Silara was taught it all, until one day there was nothing more to teach. On that day Darth Mierin came to the courtyard, not dressed in fine white linens, no hint of gold, but instead mournful robes of pure black. Her eyes were alight, her gaze drifting over to her apprentice, a look of pride within her eyes. She seemed almost happy, almost content. “It's time.”
Those were her only words that day.