Daughter of Fen
The Clan will need you, the vode, the galaxy. Even now, they rally together as I knew they would.
They need a common enemy to find unity.
The distinct humm of a lightsaber cut through the air, hissing as rain hammered down upon it. The figure supporting it seemed unperturbed by Coruscant's foul weather. Between the marble statues, the apprentice moved with an unseen opponent, angling her blade to deflect incoming fire that wasn't there, slashing at an opponent's legs, making a complete turn with grace and speed, lightsaber carving her opponents in half. This was not a teenager, stuffed with mirth, hacking and slashing needlessly at the world. This was an exercise. Each movement, deliberate and precise, the wielder so immersed in the force that her eyes were half closed.Mya was there, she could feel the rain upon the skin, see the steam rising from the saber as the rain hammered relentlessly upon them, she could even hear the whisper of the wind as it whistled across the statues forms, weathering and changing them in a way that their sculptors would never be able to. But she was also not there. She was on Kamino, in a white room, the stink of the tank still clinging to her skin, sharing words with a man so different from her clinical surroundings.
You will be more than just a devoted servant Mya.
To this day, Mya didn't know if the man she spoke with in that room had been Ordo, or if it had been the Dark Lord himself. He said things like a dark lord, yet he reacted more emotionally than one great as he should. Perhaps he had wanted that? Perhaps he had wanted someone who would not judge him nor look to him as others did. Someone around which he could be human. Or perhaps she was merely the product of a man so confused and riddled with guilt, in cloning his dear sister, he believed he could undo what he had done.
You will be more than I could ever be.
The red blade flickered on and off as she practiced, her movements increased in speed as the Dark Lords and Lady's of history watched her with unmoving and glassy eyes. She was already more than he ever was, she was the moment he gave her memories. His memories, the memories of Mia Monroe and those of Velok that she had carried with her. There was bitterness now, it showed as her movements became more aggressive, her footwork slipped, a misstep made her stumble. She took a deep breath and began again.
Sith are Sith, Jedi are Jedi, we're more than that, you and I.
Yet here she was, here she had remained in the years passed, unseen by all. Here she had resided contemplating her actions, trying to discover where she should place her next foot on this path her father had created for her. None had bothered her, not even the Dark Lord himself. Each passing day had made her believe, more and more, that she was created out of desperation and not with purpose at all.
I promise you Buir, I will not let you down.
I know you won't, Mya.
Her memory shifted from that of a white room to a battlefield where the crack of a blaster echoed in her ears, smoke rising from the barrel of the gun in her hand as her father toppled to the ground. She could hear the bellow of Azrael as he expressed his discontent of her existence and her actions. His fury fresh in her memory as if it had been yesterday."You dare tread on the name of the Liberator and murder my brother in cold blood?!"
She had laughed, for she had believed she had done what the Dark Lord would have wanted. Freed him from this form, so he would not be trapped in the prisons upon Myrkr. Yet in the aftermath of the battle, when the adrenaline had worn away, she was left wanting. Six years, she had been out of the tank in which she'd been grown. Five of those years had found her questioning her existence. Time enough wallowing in self pity. She had been ruthless, both in serving Ordo, and in killing him it was time to be ruthless with herself. She stopped the exercise abruptly, coming slowly out of moving meditation, she deactivated the blade, clipping it to her belt as she moved from the Valley at a run, wanting to stave off the cold before it could set in, she bolted the short distance to the Temple.
A few heads swung her way, she ignored them, as she always did, wringing her hair out on the doorstep and padding through the temple, leaving small puddles in her wake.
