Many times have I stood before the stars.
Normally, I found something resembling comfort within the cosmos. The swirling mass of possibilities, worlds untouched, worlds marred, worlds long gone. I look for the void, that place where Primordial Darkness has unleashed itself and judged swathes of space unworthy of existence, unworthy of light. The void where I would find enlightenment, the void where I would find the path.
But today. There is no comfort.
There is only chaos.
I have watched these sectors, the great dominion of the Sith, the great swatches of space beyond their grasp. But it is all wrong. The stars are out of place. Light is where it should not be, and the void is given new life with the chaos of astrological catastrophe. I ponder, for a moment ever so brief.
What do they see upon Rhand? What are those wretched souls saying about the sky? Are they laughing at the prospect of calamity, do they revel in the chaos? How many worlds have died already…how many souls sent to their Dark in the wake of the unthinkable? As I think, I find myself lost in the sea of the past once again. Rhand. Revelation. The feeling of the grass crushed under metal boots as the power of industry took hold, the churning cogs of war built from that world of sorcerers boundlessly cruel. Those days spent studying grimoires and tomes, digging through the history of their Way of the Dark - the elation of knowledge.
I was free then. A monster, wayward from her Empire as it crumbled into dust. Wayward from her home, who spoke her name in nothing but hatred and scorn. I suffered. I was lost. But…I was free, with only the luster of Primordial Dark as my guide in a Galaxy so impossibly vast.
The brand itches. It writhes where skin and flesh refuse to heal. It reminds me I am no longer free, not truly. A mark of pride, a mark of devotion, a mark no better than a slave’s collar. I feel my teeth clench, rage simmers. So much hate, so much rage. I can feel it overtaking me, untethering me from the world. My mind is dragged from then to now, the fighting, the killing.
It all blends together now, I can barely make out one face from the next. So many enemies found, so many enemies yet to be uncovered. D’qar had proven me right, vindicated every thought that nestled in my brain. The Sith, those who I must call comrade, those who I must call Lord, Darth, and a myriad of titles unending. They are waiting to slit my throat, to send me to the Dark when I expect it least. I can hear my gauntlet creek, the nails scrapping against metallic palms.
Judging words fill my ears.
The stars…they are not right. I can not tether myself. They scorn Lirka Ka, they treat me like I am just another monster in their menagerie! I can see it in their eyes, they can not even bring themselves to hate me they think so little! Deputy they mock! Unimportant they laugh! I hear my fist against the transpirsteel before I even realize I had lashed out. I can feel scornful eyes watching me, from those who should be my fellows, and those who are long since dead.
I look to the stars, I try to ignore their eyes. But it’s all wrong, it’s all changed in the chaos. Chaos.
Peace is a lie, there is but chaos.
I mutter the mantra under my breath, if the stars will not offer me comfort then faith will have to do. The knowledge that I am right, that I see beyond what those hateful fools could ever see!
In chaos, there is suffering.
In suffering, we become transient.
I look to the stars. I see their suffering, I see the chaos. And I see Primordial Darkness, beyond the veil, hungry for all the unworthy to be subsumed into nothingness.
I breathe in deeply taking in the air around, it reeks of chemicals. I can no longer tell if it is myself, or my work. It’s all blended together. I must tether myself.
I look out, focusing on the Darkness beyond the veil. And I try to think, and I try to ponder. I think of chaos, and death, and the suffering of a galaxy remolded. Of a Galaxy transformed.
Revelation comes.
Primordial Darkness has decided to test the Galaxy once more. To judge who is worthy, and who must be removed. Survival of the fittest, in the wake of cosmic chaos. A beautiful thing, a thing to tether me. To focus myself on what is to come, what must be done. I will not fail the Dark’s test, I refuse the mere prospect. I focus on a motivator, so simple, so pure, letting childish petty desire take hold in my rancid hearts.
Unimportant, they called Lirka Ka. I will not stand for it. They will all see.
I look to the stars, they are not where they should be. But it does not matter, not anymore. The stars show me opportunity, the glimmer of worlds yet to be conquered. Potentiality of murders yet to be committed. In chaos, there is suffering. And they will all suffer. The Galaxy will suffer. The very Force will suffer.
And then, they will cry my name. Lirka Ka! They will cry in hate. Lirka Ka! They will cry in fear. Lirka Ka! They will cry in love. Lirka Ka! She who shall brace the chaos and be known!
And then, they will all see what I see.
Normally, I found something resembling comfort within the cosmos. The swirling mass of possibilities, worlds untouched, worlds marred, worlds long gone. I look for the void, that place where Primordial Darkness has unleashed itself and judged swathes of space unworthy of existence, unworthy of light. The void where I would find enlightenment, the void where I would find the path.
But today. There is no comfort.
There is only chaos.
I have watched these sectors, the great dominion of the Sith, the great swatches of space beyond their grasp. But it is all wrong. The stars are out of place. Light is where it should not be, and the void is given new life with the chaos of astrological catastrophe. I ponder, for a moment ever so brief.
What do they see upon Rhand? What are those wretched souls saying about the sky? Are they laughing at the prospect of calamity, do they revel in the chaos? How many worlds have died already…how many souls sent to their Dark in the wake of the unthinkable? As I think, I find myself lost in the sea of the past once again. Rhand. Revelation. The feeling of the grass crushed under metal boots as the power of industry took hold, the churning cogs of war built from that world of sorcerers boundlessly cruel. Those days spent studying grimoires and tomes, digging through the history of their Way of the Dark - the elation of knowledge.
I was free then. A monster, wayward from her Empire as it crumbled into dust. Wayward from her home, who spoke her name in nothing but hatred and scorn. I suffered. I was lost. But…I was free, with only the luster of Primordial Dark as my guide in a Galaxy so impossibly vast.
The brand itches. It writhes where skin and flesh refuse to heal. It reminds me I am no longer free, not truly. A mark of pride, a mark of devotion, a mark no better than a slave’s collar. I feel my teeth clench, rage simmers. So much hate, so much rage. I can feel it overtaking me, untethering me from the world. My mind is dragged from then to now, the fighting, the killing.
It all blends together now, I can barely make out one face from the next. So many enemies found, so many enemies yet to be uncovered. D’qar had proven me right, vindicated every thought that nestled in my brain. The Sith, those who I must call comrade, those who I must call Lord, Darth, and a myriad of titles unending. They are waiting to slit my throat, to send me to the Dark when I expect it least. I can hear my gauntlet creek, the nails scrapping against metallic palms.
Judging words fill my ears.
The stars…they are not right. I can not tether myself. They scorn Lirka Ka, they treat me like I am just another monster in their menagerie! I can see it in their eyes, they can not even bring themselves to hate me they think so little! Deputy they mock! Unimportant they laugh! I hear my fist against the transpirsteel before I even realize I had lashed out. I can feel scornful eyes watching me, from those who should be my fellows, and those who are long since dead.
I look to the stars, I try to ignore their eyes. But it’s all wrong, it’s all changed in the chaos. Chaos.
Peace is a lie, there is but chaos.
I mutter the mantra under my breath, if the stars will not offer me comfort then faith will have to do. The knowledge that I am right, that I see beyond what those hateful fools could ever see!
In chaos, there is suffering.
In suffering, we become transient.
I look to the stars. I see their suffering, I see the chaos. And I see Primordial Darkness, beyond the veil, hungry for all the unworthy to be subsumed into nothingness.
I breathe in deeply taking in the air around, it reeks of chemicals. I can no longer tell if it is myself, or my work. It’s all blended together. I must tether myself.
I look out, focusing on the Darkness beyond the veil. And I try to think, and I try to ponder. I think of chaos, and death, and the suffering of a galaxy remolded. Of a Galaxy transformed.
Revelation comes.
Primordial Darkness has decided to test the Galaxy once more. To judge who is worthy, and who must be removed. Survival of the fittest, in the wake of cosmic chaos. A beautiful thing, a thing to tether me. To focus myself on what is to come, what must be done. I will not fail the Dark’s test, I refuse the mere prospect. I focus on a motivator, so simple, so pure, letting childish petty desire take hold in my rancid hearts.
Unimportant, they called Lirka Ka. I will not stand for it. They will all see.
I look to the stars, they are not where they should be. But it does not matter, not anymore. The stars show me opportunity, the glimmer of worlds yet to be conquered. Potentiality of murders yet to be committed. In chaos, there is suffering. And they will all suffer. The Galaxy will suffer. The very Force will suffer.
And then, they will cry my name. Lirka Ka! They will cry in hate. Lirka Ka! They will cry in fear. Lirka Ka! They will cry in love. Lirka Ka! She who shall brace the chaos and be known!
And then, they will all see what I see.