"My team didn't succeed in destroying the Penumbra. We were wiped out by Carnifex and another Sith. Get out of here before they come after you!"
"He's already here. Get out, Lily. I'll keep him busy as long as I can. If I don't—"
"They struggle against fate, while enslaved to it's whims. They can never break their chains, young Azurine. But I can show you the first steps, you need only kneel before me."
"I'm sorry. I... I tried..."
Their voices continued to ring out. Voices of her master Valery, of Aadihr, of Aris, of Everest, Jonyna, Braze, and more. All desperately pushing her from the weightless dark void. "Wake, Azurine."
Pain.
It was the first thing Azzie knew. She woke in pieces. Her thoughts were fragmented, floating somewhere between the abyss of unconsciousness and the blinding sting of awareness. Every breath was a struggle, sharp and ragged, as if her ribs were wrapped in barbed wire. Her body screamed with every movement—every twitch of a muscle, every shift of weight. Pain lanced through her leg, white-hot and searing, and the dull, throbbing ache in her skull made her stomach churn. The signature metallic taste and smell of blood still laced her senses, this time less prominent and feeling like dried mud against her skin.
She was alive. Shock flickered through her, muddled and distant through the haze of agony. How? She shouldn't be. That was the second thing she realized. She remembered the fight. The explosion. The force of Darth Carnifex's attack slamming into her like an impenetrable wall. She had been on the brink, her body broken, drowning in pain and darkness. And him. The Dark Lord had stood over her, watching as she fell. She remembered the pressure, the sheer, suffocating force of his power bearing down on her. She could still feel the sensation of her body giving out, her strength draining away like water slipping through her fingers. In that moment, she could have swore it was the end for her, that she wouldn't wake again. She had expected death. However, here she was.
Where...?
Azzie exhaled shakily, trying to take stock of her surroundings. A dull red glow painted the walls, casting flickering shadows across the cold durasteel floor. A containment cell; small, barren, and designed for prisoners who weren't expected to leave under their own power. The air was stale with the faint scent of burnt ozone, and the only exit was a shimmering plasma wall. Not bars, not a door—just a field of crackling, deadly energy humming in the silence.
Her biological wrist ached where it was bound—the other having no ability to feel it at all—shackles of cold metal digging into her skin. Heavy, restraining. Tugging slightly, the bite of pain shot up her arm, her exhausted muscles screaming in protest.
A shudder ran through her, a mix of confusion and dread clawing at her ribs. Why? Why had he let her live?
Azzie's breath hitched. A voice that was barely a whisper, coiled around the edges of her mind, oil-slick and insidious. Not her thoughts. Not her own, even if it carried a similar voice.
You are alone. You failed.
She clenched her teeth, forcing her amethyst-hued eyes open. Dark locks of her raven hair that reached barely to her shoulders hung in her face, plastered with blood and sweat. The dim red glow of the cell pressed in around her, the plasma wall flickering, casting long shadows against the durasteel. Her chest tightened as she forced herself to take another slow, steady breath.
They left you.
Her breath caught, her heart slamming once against her ribs. No.
You fought. You burned. And yet, here you are—broken, abandoned. Weak.
Her fingers dug into her palms, the cold metal of her shackles pressing into her skin. She squeezed her eyes shut. Shut up.
You are weak. And soon, you will beg for mercy.
Her head throbbed, her vision blurred for a moment, but she focused. Forced herself to feel. A flicker. Distant and barely there, but real. It had to be real. How, she still couldn't quite place, but she knew—Aadihr. Her heart clenched. Out of everyone, she could still feel him. Faint, like a dying ember in a vast, cold void, but there. Somewhere. Still alive. That was enough.
Slowly, painfully, she shifted, adjusting her position against the wall. She had to focus. Had to keep her mind sharp. If she let fear take hold, if she let the pain drag her under, she was done for. Her body protested every movement, but she forced herself to steady her breathing.
In. Out.
She closed her eyes.
Focus.
Panicking wouldn't help. Breaking down wouldn't help. Crying in the corner wouldn't do a damn thing except let them win. That was something she just couldn't stand for. She reached for the Force for something beyond the pain, beyond the fear. It was distant, flickering, like a star behind thick storm clouds, but she held onto it. Let it fill her lungs, settle in her bones. She needed something to keep her head above the rising tide.
Her body hurt. Her heart ached. But her spirit still desperately held on to the sparks of her fire for dear life.
