Hard Truths | Pt. I

A violent metallic screech cut through the ashen haze that had befallen Kyric Karis in recent hours. He strained to lift his head, only to feel a gentle hand press down against his forehead. The hand was a shade of green like fresh pine, and it carried a sense of peace that washed away the worst of the kiffar’s confusion. His head flopped to the right as the hand disappeared past the angry red-black shadow dominating that entire side of his face.

Sol Dara met his gaze with pools of gleaming cerulean. Concern crashed over him in choppy waves made all the worse by the dark purple bags beneath her blue eyes. She must’ve been planetside helping with all manner of things well before the Dark Empire’s forces arrived. And now she stood at his side, her slender fingers, so soft and cool, pressed into the horrific burn that ran down the right side of his face.

“He doesn’t have much time.”

Kyric blinked, his remaining eye going wide. Huh?

“How can you be certain?” a Medical droid stomping along behind him intoned.

Good question.

Sol lifted her hand from the remnants of his eye socket and placed all five fingertips of her left hand against his forehead. Kyric felt her presence pass through him. If not for the horrific pain and startling reality of imminent death, the boy may have blushed. Instead, he sat stock still and waited.

She took her hand away after maybe his forty-fifth heartbeat with gritted teeth. “One of his ribs has pierced his right lung and he has a high concentration of corrupted midichlorians across the entire right side of his body. Kyric’s faith in the Light is unshakeable. His body has already begun to attack the foreign energy inside of him rather than absorb it as most force sensitives would. If we don’t purge him of the darkness, his body will fall apart.”

“That is not ideal.” The droid stated.

Kyric let his head lull back and returned his gaze to the swiftly passing lights overhead. After the sixth, a male twi’lek with orange skin wearing deep blue scrubs, and what the kiffar thought to be a woman wearing a black leather jacket, joined the trio and stood at the end of the rolling bed. Kyric tried to discern who they may have been, but the sudden fissuring within his vision made that somewhat difficult.

Cracks split what was left of the boy’s vision in three. Scarlet light bled from the hair-thin lines and clung to his growing escort. He realized by maybe the eleventh passing light that the glow clung to negativity. To their weaknesses. Like the limp which assailed the twi’lek’s left side, or the horrific scarring running down the kiffar’s right arm.

You were in way over our head.

Kyric closed his eyes and exhaled weakly. I know.

I fething TOLD YOU before we even left the apartment and you still ran off to play hero like dad. What is wrong with you?

A lot of things.

Silence stretched for several long seconds, and then the voice of Scion returned to him. That’s- alright. Alright, you’re right. We played our part and kept Mother alive. Better than nothing.

When Kyric opened his eye, Scion sat beside him at the edge of the bed. He didn’t look much different than the kiffar on a normal day. His other half loved to wear his hair down, and he always came to him with freshly manicured nails and purple-tinted lips. If not for the pair of burning vermillion eyes staring down at Kyric, the one-eyed Jedi could’ve called him his twin.

“You think we’re gonna make it?” Kyric asked aloud, his voice scratchy and weak. Again he felt Sol’s hands find him, this time one pressed against his scarred right shoulder, while the other wiped a thin rivulet of blood leaking from the boy’s nose.

“Sure hope so,” Scion answered, his voice far stronger than Kyric’s. “It would be real lame to die in a hospital bed rather than blade in hand against Rhis Karking Fisto.”

Kyric finally smiled as he slipped away into unconsciousness.


"So long as we can break into some Alderaan wine after? I was planning on stealing a bottle anyway."

Kyric blinked. Huh? His eyes traced the familiar figure of Capris Halcyon as she cut straight across a perfectly manicured yard. Her black dress hugged her frame tightly, accentuating the alluring sway of her hips. One leg poked out from a tall slit in the fabric that ended about midway up her thigh. He had never seen her like this before, and when she finally turned back to him, wearing a smile so vibrant she could put the very stars to shame, Kyric froze.

She was radiant.

Warmth spread across Kyric’s cheeks like a flashfire. He assumed he was the color of a Sith’s lightsaber, so he abashedly covered his face with one hand and tried his damnedest not to study the curious curve of her abdomen pressed against the thin fabric.

“Maybe don’t steal a bottle of wine,” Kyric said softly.

“You’re obnoxiously good. You know that?” Capris fell back to his right side and leaned her head against his shoulder. It was a stark difference from Pantora, where he tried to cover her bad side during their shared hunt of a rogue sithspawn and she rebuked him. Now she invited him warmly to play the role of protector.

Even though some distant part of Kyric knew he wasn’t strolling through Alderaanian gardens toward an aristocratic affair, he stopped to smell the flowers anyway. Could the Jedi trust Capris? She practically left him for dead on the icy moon, but Coruscant was different. She saved him. Even in the face of whatever horrific vision she saw within his eyes–she chose him over his bounty.

“Yeah, yeah,” Kyric slipped his arm around her waist and pulled her closer. “It’s somethin’ you’ve pointed out a time or two.”

“I’m only looking out for you,” she explained. “What are you gonna do if you get hurt and I’m not around to bail you out?”

“Run fast?”

Capris’ hand found his cheek and she gently pulled his gaze down to her own. “That’s not funny, Kyric.”

“I-I’m sorry.” He laid his hand atop hers and guided it to his lips. “I’ll try to be more careful, honest.” Three successive kisses at the tip of her ring, middle, and index fingers saw a faint blush spread across her cheeks. This time, she turned away from him and showed sudden interest in the low-hanging canopy above the yard they so rudely trundled through.

Kyric found the whole ordeal quite adorable, but nothing about the scene playing out before him made a lick of sense. How did he get here?

Scanning the idyllic gardens revealed a huge stretch of lawn decorated by scarlet-leaved maple trees. A soft orange light illuminated hundreds of little spiraling petals descending from the canopy. Following the light back to its source, Kyric discovered a roaring bonfire that definitely hadn’t been there a moment ago. A dozen silhouettes danced and sang around it to unheard music. Kyric pivoted on his heel, turning a full circle to discover an entire party had practically formed just beyond the edge of his vision as far as his eyes could see.

Wait.

Kyric raised his right hand to cover his right eye to confirm the truth. When half of the world went black, his mouth fell open. Confusion intermingled with shock and relief for a few short seconds, then the boy unceremoniously shoved his finger into his eye socket. It sunk up to the second knuckle in a jelly-like substance. It didn’t feel comfortable by any means, but Kyric didn’t feel an inkling of the pain he knew came with such a wound.

I’m dreaming?

“Kyric,” Capris muttered from behind him. He felt her hand tug weakly on the bottom of his vest. “Is something wrong?”

Kyric spun quickly and wrapped his arms around her with what felt like practiced precision. “No, nothin’ like that. I couldn’t help but notice how alive this place feels, s’all.”

She smiled again.

And his heart melted again.

Everything felt so complete to Kyric that he knew it couldn’t have been his dream. The tell-tale cracks of his fractured psyche did not litter the psionic landscape. The gardens lacked the horrific, glass-like shards that manifested behind the boy’s eyes whenever he laid down to rest.

Which meant…

Somewhere nearby, a musician plucked expertly along a harp. While another struck an ethereal tune with an old, beat-up violin.

“Do you want to dance?” Capris didn’t wait for an answer to begin excitedly dragging him closer to one of the many bonfires that dotted the yard. She bobbed her head from side to side, hips swaying to the rhythm of the music. Her hair bounced with each motion, framing her delicate features with an innocence the kiffar would likely never know in life.

Kyric stepped around her side like he did back in Club Everlight, his hand snaking around her, only this time his other arm joined the first and he pulled her into a shared embrace. He pressed his forehead against hers as a slender hand fell against the back of his neck. They remained beside the fire for what felt like hours, swaying amid one another’s arms. He breathed her in, drinking deeply of her lilac perfume, while she lost herself in his tender gaze.

The music eventually died away around them.

Kyric lifted his head to discover the field had disappeared. An old gazebo had replaced the bonfire. It was dimly lit by six candles and dressed up neatly by a blanket of wildflowers woven into a veil separating them from the rest of the galaxy.

Capris stretched out across royal-purple cushions, her gaze trailing after him as he ran his hand through the flora.

“Do I got somethin’ on my face?” Kyric inquired with a knowing smile.

“No. I like looking at your face,” Capris answered truthfully. “I mentioned something about you being pretty before the ball, I’m sure you remember.” She waved a hand like the matter was settled, the way a noble, or politician would, but Kyric wasn’t one to make things easy.

“I’m afraid not,” he strode toward the bench and descended to a knee beside her. The kiffar gently tucked loose strands of hair behind her ear and watched as goosebumps formed along the surface of her neck and shoulder. She melted into his touch and planted three kisses across the back of his hand.

“You don’t have to be difficult,” she assured him. “I’ll say it again if you’d like.”

“I’m never going to say no to a compliment from you, Capris.” Kyric sat down beside her on the bench and leaned back into velvet comfort.

She sat up with a mischievous smile. “You won’t have to wait long, but first,” she reached beneath the bench and procured a tall, long-necked, glass bottle that could only be one thing.

“Stole the wine anyway, huh?”

“You didn’t seriously expect me to pass up a bottle of Appenza Peak, did you? This stuff cost more than your run-of-the-mill kyber crystal.” She revealed two glasses hidden away as well and placed them both atop a little knee-high table in front of their seating. “Would you like some, Master Jedi?”

Ba-bump.

The salacious look in Capris’ eyes pinned Kyric in place as she poured them both a glass. She placed one on the table for him while swirling the contents of her glass rhythmically, her gaze never leaving his.

“You seem distant tonight. Are you okay?” she asked from behind the rim.

Tonight? Kyric leaned forward and lifted his glass from the table. Has she had this dream before? He carried the cup to his lips and sniffed the beverage.

“I… lost a fight. Real bad,” Kyric admitted. He ran his fingers over unmarred flesh and willed the illusion away. Half the world disappeared into blackness in an instant. The once smooth skin around his eye had taken on an angry red color. Coarse, pocked flesh stretched from a single angry crimson line that ran from an inch above the boy’s right eyebrow to an inch and a half below his cheekbone.

Capris shot up in an instant. “Kyric!” She pressed her hand against his face. “What happened to you?”

“I… didn’t run fast enough, I s’ppose.” The kiffar’s good eye fell to the floor. “My ma, she uh… made a big mistake. Maybe she was thinkin’ herself smarter, or more powerful, or wiser, or- I dunno. But it didn’t turn out well. If not for a vision my brother shared with me a couple of months back, well, she’d be gone.”

Just like dad.

“You ran off to the Chancellor’s rescue? The same Chancellor who is also a Master of the Force?” Capris appeared equal parts dumbfounded and concerned.

Kyric thought he might’ve seen a bit of admiration in those beautiful brown eyes of hers, but he couldn’t keep eye contact long enough to confirm. “She’s my ma, Capris. What did you want me to do? Run away and leave her to die like some kinda coward?”

That stopped whatever retort Capris had worked out in her head and she leaned back into the cushions. A minute later, she huffed and drained her glass in a single go.

“Did I… mess up?” he asked once the silence became too much for him.

“No,” Capris muttered. Her body trembled weakly, and after an embarrassing stretch of time, the kiffar realized she was crying.

Oh. Wow. Kyric almost couldn’t believe his eyes. Even after however long they spent together in this shared dream, a part of him struggled to see past the girl who left him unconscious in the snow on Pantora. Sure, she helped him escape another bounty hunter on Coruscant, but the kiffar assumed that had more to do with greed than affection like this.

“Can I help you?” Kyric asked after working up the nerve.

“What?” She met his one-eyed gaze and trembled harder.

“I don’t like sittin’ here watchin’ you hurt. It makes me feel sick if I’m bein’ honest.” Kyric scooted closer, and when she didn’t move away, he began to wipe away the tears. Her makeup left little black streaks like tiny rivers down her cheeks. It was the sort of detail that should have felt out of place in a dream, but it only served to strengthen the boy’s feelings.

“Don’t cry for my sake, Capris. I’m beggin’ you. You’re so beautiful when you smile, seein’ you like this? Over one little wound? It tears me up.” He took her hand and carefully laid it atop his sealed eyelid. “It ain’t so bad, see?”

Capris ran her fingers down the length of his scar. Little tingles started at the base of his skull and worked their way down his spine as her fingers traced every inch of what he could only imagine to be a horrific and ugly wound.

She regained her composure enough to look him in the eye. “It isn’t ugly.”

Kyric blinked. “What?”

She stared hard at him. “Your wound. It isn’t ugly, or horrible for that matter.”

“I-” He bit back an answer given the sudden intensity of her gaze and swallowed it whole. Even though the kiffar had no basis to think the way he did, he knew there would be no arguing with Capris when she got this way. The girl was more stubborn than any of his cousins.

“With or without the scar, you’re beautiful, Kyric. You know that, right?”

Kyric’s breath caught in his throat. Unable to speak, he gently pulled her atop him and fell back into the cushions. Her black hair cascaded into his face, carrying with it another intoxicating whiff of her perfume. She pressed her face into the nape of his neck and planted several tender kisses on the lightning-like scars etched into his honey-toned flesh.

He lazily dragged his fingers through her hair, and she shivered against him, sending another wave of warmth across his cheeks. It didn’t bother him so much this time. If anything, it soothed him. She made him feel whole in a way he never quite did before.

“Kyric?” she asked sleepily.

“Yes?”

“I miss you.”

He smiled warmly and kissed the top of her head. “I think about you every day, and every night, Capris. Come back to me soon, alright?”

When she didn’t speak up, he looked down to see her sleeping soundlessly against him. Some time passed before Kyric allowed himself to fade away. Strangely, the kiffar could’ve sworn he heard the sound of a purrgil drifting by the flowery veil in his final moments of rest.


An irritatingly bright white light shined down on Kyric’s face when he opened his eye. It took a minute of squinting before his pupil adjusted to the striking difference enough to discern the contents of an otherwise empty hospital room. A window stretched along the northern wall to unveil the vastness of space, whereas a door on the southern wall led to what the kiffar assumed to be the rest of a space station.

Said door opened a moment later to reveal a medical droid holding a datapad.

“Good evening, Mr. Karis.” The droid spoke with a soft voice, not unlike a flesh and blood sentient. “It is good to see you are awake.”

Kyric watched the droid step up to the side of the bed with a weak nod. “Uh… how long have I been out?” He always wanted to ask that one.

“Thirteen days, eleven hours, forty-two minutes, and fifty-seven seconds as of now.”

“Oh.” He found his attention drawn to the window. Coruscant wasn’t awaiting him on the other side.

“Can we provide anything to ease your recovery period, Mr. Karis?”

“Kyric is fine,” he corrected the second time around. “Some grub, maybe? And uh- is my sister here, by chance?”

“The mirialan Jedi Padawan, Sol Dara?” The droid asked.

“Wait, Sol’s still here?” Kyric asked, then mentally chided himself for veering off track so easily. “Nah, her name’s Kyla. We look eerily similar. Same dark brown hair, and beautiful honey skin, but she’s got our old man’s fringe. You couldn’t miss her if you tried.”

“I’m sorry, Kyric. No one who fits that description has arrived here to see you. This facility is not public knowledge, however, so do not despair. I am sure your sister would be here if she knew of this station’s existence.”

The kiffar found the droid’s empathy endearing. “Thank ye, doc.”

“I will notify Padawan Dara that you have awoken. She has kept busy healing those who’ve been brought here in the aftermath of the Dark Empire’s assault, but she has inquired about your status daily.”

“Ahh…” Kyric cleared his throat and nodded his thanks. The droid departed after that and the boy watched it go, lost in the strange web of emotions wound around his troubled heart.


Hours passed on in silence only broken up by Kyric’s occasional singing. If anyone had been there to hear it they would not have been impressed, but it didn’t seem to bother the boy much. The noise brought him solace from the inane whisperings that plagued him in the quiet moments of the day. He hadn’t realized how close to the edge he was back on Coruscant, but seeing the plethora of bandages wrapped around his beaten frame, Kyric knew now the truth of his hubris.

He only would have dragged his mother down. Just as he did Capris back in the Everlight, and Bernard when they faced the combined might of Creuat and Prowler, chosen agents of the Sith’ari himself.

The light above Kyric’s bed dimmed out of nowhere, momentarily startling the boy. He looked to the door, then the window, seeking an unseen attacker before it was too late. But nothing happened. No one struck from the shadows. No explosions ripped through the station. It was merely a feature of any properly-equipped hospital facility designed to replicate a normal day and night cycle.

Kyric laid his head back against his pillow and closed his eye. He breathed deeply, seeking some comfort in the ages-old exercises shared with him by his father. The boy found his accelerated heart rate returning to normal after his seventh breath, so he opened his eye again to see the malign grin of Rhis Fisto staring down at him.

“Argh!” Kyric launched himself from the bed in an instant, fleeing the visage of death responsible for his current state. The kiffar felt himself impact the wall beside the viewing port, but the adrenaline blocked out the pain. He thrust both hands forward and sent an overwhelming wave of telekinetic energy rocketing across the room. It lifted the bed and shattered it against the southern wall with a titanic crack.

“Good, Karis.” Creuat took a step closer, his hand falling to the lightsaber hilt at his side.

Kyric blinked and the fallen Jedi stood inches from him. Red light flooded the kiffar’s vision, heralded by the snap-hiss of his attacker’s lightsaber. He looked down, his single eye narrowed at the familiar sight of a crimson saber passing through his chest, and he plummeted to the floor with a heavy thud.

The door opened a second after that. He heard a familiar voice take command of the scene, shouting out orders to extra hands, but the details were lost on Kyric as he blacked out.


Get up.

Kyric opened his eye to yet another unfamiliar scene. He heard the voice of Scion in his head. But when he thought to answer him back, nothing happened. Scrambling back onto his feet, a streak of lightning erupted across the sky to reveal dozens of different pathways leading to a massive circular structure he assumed to be a shelter of some kind.

It took Kyric a moment to realize he wasn’t in control of his body.

Why in the nether did that bastard bring her here? Kyric heard himself think back at Scion. It was a strange experience. His dream self looked over his shoulder to the remnants of his father’s X-Wing. They were spread across the flooded dock, sizzling violently as the rain clashed with the flames.

Dream Kyric didn’t seem bothered by another of his father’s old relics being destroyed. Dreaming Kyric assumed it had something to do with her, whoever that was.

We don’t have time to figure that out. If we keep dragging ass trying to play catch up, we’ll lose her again.

The Kyric Which Dreams felt the intensity with which his other half spoke. There was a desperation in Scion’s voice the kiffar hadn’t ever heard before. Dreaming Kyric watched the world blur around him as his dream self shot through the rain like a blaster bolt.

Interestingly, Dream Kyric didn’t seem to have his left arm. Or Resolve, for that matter.

I guess my life isn’t getting better anytime soon, huh? The passenger mused. How did so many Jedi make it to forty without a single real injury?

Kyric’s mirth vanished the instant Capris Halcyon appeared out of the darkness, a crimson saber poised to strike her down. Both conscious and subconscious minds joined together as a startled cry escaped the kiffar’s lips.

“No!”

The blade flashed down and sliced through Capris’ like paper. Blood splattered against the durasteel at her feet, mingling with the remnants of the downpour pooling around them. Her killer held her with one arm, almost intimately, before guiding her down to the floor with a reverence that made Kyric sick.

What remained of his world turned scarlet as dozens of tiny fissures split his vision. Those shards in reality led the kiffar toward the target of his rage. Kyric launched himself into the air, summoning the lightsaber at his dead lover’s side to his grip. He closed his hand around the hilt and activated it with a flick of the thumb.

Crimson burst from the emitter and clashed with the Killer’s dual-blade. Kyric pushed hard, his saber a screeching blur as it wove a path of destruction around him. He sliced through what the Jedi recognized to be a communications relay built into the path. It descended toward his foe, who dove aside to avoid being crushed. Unfortunately for him, Kyric was waiting for exactly that.

The kiffar swung his blade around him in a flash and decapitated the figure without a second glance. The head disappeared over the ledge as he rushed to Capris’ side.

“Capris!” Kyric dropped to his knees and slid the last foot to her side. He unclasped his father’s poncho from around his frame and laid it across her body. “Stay with me, girl. This is nothin’ for you. Absolutely nothin’!”

She shivered weakly. Her lips moved as if trying to speak, but no words came out–only a small stream of blood.

“No, no, no,” the kiffar withdrew the amulet he traded for so many years ago. He pressed it against the wound; a horrific slash that completely tore through half of her abdomen. Kyric felt the amulet begin to siphon his life force away for the briefest instance.

And then there was nothing.

He tried again. And again. And again.

Kyric screamed into the storm, begging the galaxy to take what little he had left and give it to her. He felt his joy drain away as her skin turned chalk white. Her lips moved, weaker than before, and the kiffar struggled to hear her final words. Even her breath felt empty as he was left waiting for a final goodbye that would never come.

The rain fell harder, then.

His tears rolled down the left side of his face and crashed like thunder against the durasteel. He pulled her against his chest and cradled her head to his heart.

Lightning split the sky in two. It revealed the approach of two others, a grinning nautolan and a stooped old man with a long, pointed goatee. More came after them. Kyric recognized some. Brutalis and Sinestra, the dark siders responsible for the attack on his companions in those days leading up to the invasion of Coruscant.

And there were others.

Kyric couldn’t see them all, but he could feel their malign intentions as clearly as he could the rain on his marred flesh. He tucked the poncho the remainder of the way around Capris and lifted her from the floor. Incapable of anything else at that point, the kiffar turned away from the Sith’ari’s forces and strode back the way he came.

The remnants of his father’s ship were no longer smoking when he passed. Not that it did Kyric any good.

“Give up, Karis. Your fate was sealed the moment the Emperor cut down your father.” Creuat taunted him from behind.

Kyric didn’t look back. His attention remained glued to the distant dome he hoped would shelter them from the downpour.

“Your father died to avoid this fate, boy! Look at yourself!” the Dark Jedi appeared within Kyric’s vision again ten feet ahead of him. “This is the outcome of your virtues. Your service! You cannot hope to face the Emperor as you are now. You’re only half a man.”

Half a man, huh? Kyric couldn’t disagree with that assessment. What kind of man only had half a heart? What kind of man stood by hopelessly as the woman he loved died before his very eyes? Maybe Creuat was right to say the kiffar was destined to fall beneath the boot of his Dark Lord, but it didn’t matter. None of that mattered.

Only Capris mattered.

And they took her away, too.