A Pound of Flesh

[Ellie Mors]

Omerta

Thousands of years in the making had led up to this moment - to the perfection in physical form that walked like a god through the halls of this quaint palace to meet with the era's Dark Lord of the Sith. He was a powerful man, a true Sith Lord that deserved his title, but Ananta could not help but smile at his folly - at his acceptance, of his trust, for a woman so thoroughly traitorous as she. To meet him alone today would be his undoing - the beginning of the destabilizing of an empire as great as this, the shockwaves of which would be carried across the galaxy and be felt even in the most secluded world in the First Order.

And how many lives had she sacrificed for this day? To shake the galaxy to its core for the final time, to lay low all of creation and set upon them her wrath - how many men and women had been seeded by her hand to allow her to persist, to grow? Braith had been the last, the final child whose birth had been purposely engineered to grant her the greatest boon of power, more than anything she could have dreamed for - a woman born more than a millennia ago, consumed even as she abandoned her sickbed in exile to warn that same Dark Lord of the Sith of the treacherous snake that had slithered into his circle.

She had no shame, no honor, and she felt no guilt for her actions - for the steps she'd taken, the people she'd devoured and the souls she had consumed to become who she was now.

Pride incarnate, arrogance defined, Ananta walked through the halls and into the chamber she'd been asked to come to - arriving prepared to dispose of the very man that had invited her.

But the man that lay in wait was not Carnifex.

[member="Darth Prazutis"]

 

[Darth Prazutis]

[media]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TNRJo12qT_c&list=RDTNRJo12qT_c[/media]​

​

Palace of the Dark Lord, Bastion

[member="Darth Ananta"]

​It was a simple enough reason that brought the prideful lady to the halls of the Imperial Palace. A personal invitation by the Dark Lord [member="Darth Carnifex"] himself to sit in a meeting. The journey through the massive palace was swift as she was sent right through security. The meeting would begin in the expansive throne room before the Throne of the Emperor. When she was let in however she was simply told that the Emperor would be there shortly to meet her. Time passed slowly but surely in the chamber silent as a tomb. But then...

​It happened.

​Deafening alarms erupted through the halls of the colossal palace as it went entirely on lockdown blast doors and ray shields covering and controlling crucial passageways all throughout the palace while the Emperor's Personal Wing was closed off. In two different doorways to the throne room came in the Crownguard the elite royal guards of House Zambrano. They carried a myriad of weapons many of them force and lightsaber pikes ignited and ready while some carried blaster pistols. But what stood out among them was the presence of ysalamiri that were brought on from several, creating overlapping fields of nullifying force energy to cover Darth Ananta to remove her abilities to wield it in retaliation.

Then came the man.

Darth Prazutis; Shadow Hand of the Dark Lord clad in a deathly cloak. As Prazutis strode into the room over four dozen guardsman were present with two dozen on each side completely surrounding her. A guardsman stood at his side his armor gold this particular man carried a crossguard crimson lightsaber. The man’s voice boomed across the chamber as they took up position along the encircled Sith just behind the perimeter of guardsman the Lord Commander's voice boomed. "Darth Ananta. You are under arrest for treason." ​The Lord Commander said. The Shadow Hand calmly signaled without saying so much a word. The boiling anger surging beneath the surface said enough.

​There was a presence within Ananta that did not belong to her, something she had taken. While she might not have been aware of him he was certainly aware of her. Anyone who associated with his nephew was known and extensively checked and monitored behind the scenes. The fact that she dared to even show up to the palace carrying such stolen cargo was insulting. Ananta was prideful and arrogant traits present in many Sith Lords, but in her it was bothersome. No matter. The so called deceiver was deceived by the Lord of Lies and trapped within the most secure palace in what quite possibly could be the galaxy.

​Without the force.

​"You have something that does not belong to you. I will take it from you, and break you into a thousand pieces before the end." ​The Shadow Hand simply signaled with his hand. Eight guardsman stepped forward carrying force pikes set to stun on significant settings. The stun wouldn't be lethal but it would be enough to do the job and cause enough agony to restrain and collar her. This was just the beginning.

 

[Ellie Mors]

She forced a smile as everything slowly went wrong.

It hadn't been the first time her prey dealt with her in such a manner, although it had been some time since anyone had heeded a warning made against her. She had assumed, however, that Carnifex had disregarded Braith's warning regarding her status as a thread - she even had wondered if there were any lingering sentiments of attachment that stunted his concern - but it appeared he had instead been more cautious than she'd anticipated. It mattered little, of course, as her potency with the force was something he already knew firsthand would ruin whatever precautions he had taken against a more permanent end.

Or at least, it would have, were it not for the sudden darkness that enveloped her vision that had been granted by exactly that.

Her hand moved for her lightsaber as the sound of footfalls echoed across the throne room, the force siphoned her control as the nuisances known as ysalamir drew near. For perhaps the first time in several thousand years she felt a tinge of fear, of concern for her own safety, when she actually heard the voice of the man that had came to seize her person - a man that carried a sword that was very much one of her only two concerns. She was alone, without sight or the force, and he was against her with more than enough men to subdue her. What he was referring to, regarding what she'd taken, she could only guess - it mattered little as her own safety mattered more than whatever the Dark Lord of the Sith's uncle wanted from her. The sound of footsteps approaching warned her of an attack, which she partially protected herself from in the way of several hasty saber strikes, but without being able to feel the presence of those around her, or even see those approaching, she was at a vast disadvantage - a disadvantage he was clearly taking advantage of, likely reveling in his seeming victory when she was paralyzed from a strike by a pike to her back.

She collapsed, wordless, to her knees, saber deactivating in her hand, and she waited for a more opportune moment to lash out - hopefully one with the force.

[member="Darth Prazutis"]

 

[Darth Prazutis]

[media]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ORRveI7UdW8[/media]​​

​

There were just too many to fight off.

The absence of both sight and the force severely weakened her defensive attempts, it was a valiant try but there were far too many of the coordinated warriors circling around her. Until one eventually managed to land a strike and stun her dropping her to the ground with a thud. What came next however was only worse. The Crownguard descended on her with one guardsman securing a force containment collar around her neck. The beatings came then as they secured her limbs in strong restraints, any sign of resistance was met with a brutal reprisal from the guards that swung down at her.

They were spurred on by their master.

The Shadow Hand observed everything from his position his orders spurring the crownguard on to make the prisoner suffer. When Ananta was firmly secured in restraints and her connection to the force temporarily negated through the chemicals that surged through her system, it was only then that the guardsman carrying ysalamiri left to the outside of the chamber, ensuring that their master could invoke the force in the room. The Sith Lord walked up to his new prisoner staring down at her with his molten eyes he delivered a powerful blow knocking her out.

Some time later...

[member="Darth Ananta"] would awaken with the collar fully secured around her neck, her arms and legs heavily restrained and strapped down to a stone slab. A vortex of dark side energy swirled around the room as a choir of dark robed servants chanted ancient Sith hyms. The Shadow Hand stood closest also clad in a set of dark robes he carried a vial of blood in one hand while he carried a ceremonial dagger in the other. Carefully he used the vial of blood coating the dagger with it he whispered an incantation in high sith to it, the dagger glowed in response. It was the blood of Braith Achlys that coated it, the anchor and instrument that would help him precisely carve out the soul that had been taken by the parasite in front of him.

Afterwards he produced a small sith soulstone from within his robes and neared Ananta he recited the words of ritual necessary for the incantation he was casting. Darth Prazutis meticulously carved dark runes on the form of the woman necessary for the ritual. There were many souls consumed by the woman and he needed to take just one, only one. Finally after those were complete he placed the soulstone in the center of one large glowing rune on her chest and recited the last line of the incantation, stepping back.

The flesh around the soulstone bubbled and contorted as every single rune glowed, dark magic seeping into her body with sheer agony. The soulstone entered abruptly through her chest then, the words of the Shadow Hand rang in the air "You are free Braith Achlys. Enter this new transport and leave the parasite's prison!" ​Suddenly the small soulstone tore out of her chest then floating into the air, it glowed a deep purple sheen showing that it was now occupied. Carefully Prazutis stepped towards it grabbing it out of the air as if it was incredibly fragile. He locked it into a small protective capsule that sat like an amulet on a black chain, wearing it around his neck. He turned to the cane holding man who now materialized from within the shadows. "Inform the doctor that they are to proceed with haste. We have work to do."

 

[Ellie Mors]

It was not until the collar was fixated around her neck that she lashed out, or tried to.

The man that had ordered her imprisonment had estimated her weaknesses well, an unfortunate consequence of the meddlesome Jedi on Mirial raining their burning light upon her armored form, and she knew with a great deal of certainty that this was the only advantage he could have ever had over her - she had already prepared to deal with a threat far more powerful than he, and a physical death was hardly of a concern for her. Even if he thought he could rip her binding from the soul of his superior, there was sad mistake made there - they were as united as the day was long. She grinned defiantly, even as those around her held her in place and beat her. Even if it was a lifetime from now, even ten centuries past, she would have her revenge and it would be even more sweet than the ten thousand years she waited to return.

Even though she knew it was coming, a blow to her skull, Ananta could do nothing as she was rendered unconscious and dragged away.

Pain and suffering, even time, meant nothing to a creature as malicious as she.

-

She woke, bound to an alter of stone, with as much panic as she had when she had fallen unconscious - none. She could hear the words flowing throw the air, knew their power, and she laughed - she laughed at this insanity. There was not a word she uttered to let them know of her true amusement - she let her bemused expression and sardonic mirth speak for her. A ritual of sith magic on a woman bound to a stone table? Even the primitives had known of better ways to make use of their sacrifices than these simpletons. It was not until she heard the murmuring of the incantation that her amusement ceased, the utterance of high sith falling on the ears of a being that had known the language before it had died.

So this man sought her out to siphon one of the innumerable souls that had been tethered to her own?

There was only own victim to her hunger in the last decade, a witch that should have been her prey ten millennia past. The sharp pain of steel carving into her flesh, mixing the blood of the body that had flowed through the veins of that very sacrificial lamb she'd devoured only months prior sending shockwaves of rage through her very psyche. This would be no clean cut, no masterful incision into the web that was her soul - whatever this man sought to return to physical form was no more, merely an echo of a young woman that had rebelled against an entity she had known as superior to her own existence. An entity that had weakened itself for the sole purpose of appearing less than she was.

"What you seek is no more." She hissed.

She said no more, as he carved the runes into her flesh, as he prepared the vessel for the containment of the soul he would never find. Braith was little more than a fledgling memory now, a shout among millions, lost in a sea held together by the vast abyss that was Ananta. Whatever he would recover from this ritual would be as ruined and different as the alchemy the ancients had thought to use for good - for darkness can only fester and grow larger as it is fed. No different than she, herself, had been ruined in her hope as a youth, so, too, would this echo of Braith be something different altogether. Memories strung together - some not even her own, and others, those that had genuinely belonged, long lost in the chaotic sea that was their intertwined souls. Even if he had managed to recover enough, enough to make his imitation, a mere facsimile, into a genuine soul, it would be like making a child from recycled parts. Whatever love the Zambrano held for the dead witch would only serve to fool himself into believing he would have what had been taken from him. In a way, really, that was satisfying enough for her to be content. She smiled, pained though she was, as he placed the crystal meant to trap his lover's soul and tear it from her own. In the face of her own change, despite knowing what would happen to herself, she still knew she had the final laugh.

"Kakiji tu'iyia raya - he forsake her!" Ananta shouted, even as her flesh rippled and frothed beneath the crystal. The first words from her lips had been in the tongue of the high sith, though he followed it with basic. If her final action for the foreseeable future was a petty attempt to sow seeds of discord, then she would take it. It would likely mean nothing to the man now, but as the days and the years drew longer and he came to realize he had not gotten what he desired - that what he desired would never again exist as it had before the inaction of his own flesh and blood - she would revel, even as a shade, at the rage and the conflict it would give birth to.

And then, as the stone did its work and cut through her amalgam of souls to harvest the closest approximation to what the Sith lord had desired, Ananta saw no more - was no more.

Little more than a fleeting shade, a trillion voices that vacated the crumbling dust that had been her body as the crystal rose into the air. Aneshe - the woman within the entity - would bide her time, but Ananta, the Sith that had wormed her way between two relatives would be seen no more.

And, though her presence was well within the stone, the very soul that Prazutis desired was not what it once was. The entity trapped within the confines of his makeshift amulet was torn from the larger amalgamation, but it was shreds of many forced to become one upon separation. Like attempting to retrieve the bones from a broth - what he had taken had also been left behind, and with it were faint shreds of that which it had been steeped in. Shreds of the soul that had been Braith, forged anew with pieces of others.

An echo.

[member="Darth Prazutis"]

 

[Darth Prazutis]

Deep in the laboratories of the Imperial Palace sat the Shadow Hand in a private chamber prepared for what was to come. The soulstone he held in his hand, carefully reaching out to feel its condition. The witch [member="Darth Ananta"] wasn't completely lying in her words about the soul he sought. It was in tatters like it had been skinned alive and consumed while within the woman. It had not been together enough for a clean cut and the presence of bits of other souls seeping in was wholly unavoidable. But it was still Braith at its heart, she was just something new and changed, different from the other pieces that now took up roots. But how different was the question.

It didn't matter.

He made a promise to her long ago and although he never got the chance to save her from the cancer that ate away at her body, he wouldn't let her suffer and fade away within the body of the pussing sore that was Ananta. Before he had given more of himself to the darkness the pain of her loss throbbed like an open wound. He cared for her deeply and perhaps a part of him still did, even through the changes that had occurred since she had left. It was perhaps poetic that he was quite possibly different like she was.

The man he used to be might've allowed the last words of a banished parasite to hang in his mind about his nephew. Now? Nothing. The bond between he and his blood ran deeper than the material verse, theirs was an unbreakable bond. Darth Ananta had her uses to his nephew and his plans, but she was a fool if she thought she could drive a wedge between the Zambrano Family. She was a tool, a pawn to be used and tossed away when she was no longer useful. When she materialized again in this world he had a special place right inside Daesumnor for her alongside all of the other victims of his wrath.

The double doors of the small chamber swung open and in came Doctor Vain Jar'He and two other attendants. that brought in a pod where the newly crafted body sat gestating in fluids, connected to tubes that brought it nutrients and monitored it. The pod was placed just next to a large metal examination table that was bolted into the floor. It was made for the massive frames of Kaine and Braxus, more than capable of handling Braith's form. "We were able to retain much of her appearance and form from the extensive data we had taken, but the alunrovaan species was incompatible and cancer ridden. We had to choose something else rooted in the firrero base we had in stock." ​The doctor said its voice mechanized through its concealing helm. The two aides ran a last minute check before draining the tube of its fluid, disconnecting the sensors, and placing her on the table dressed in a gown.

The Sith Lord moved up to the still soulless husk placing a hand on her cheek before he waved his hand "Wait outside. We will see how she reacts." He ordered waiting for them all to leave the room, taking the pod with them before he pulled the soulstone out. Carefully he placed it on the chest of the vessel and recited the last words of the incantation. There was an eruption of energy in the room as the soul gem released its contents right into the vacant vessel beneath it, crumbling into dust as it did, so. The body convulsed its eyes opening a bright purple glow poured from them and her mouth as the soul took root. It suddenly stopped however.

​Prazutis walked closer to the form once again placing his hand on her own "Braith. Can you hear me?"

 

[Ellie Mors]

It was a curious thing, to be only the part of a whole and yet simultaneously become something entirely new altogether. One could relate it to missing a limb, or, perhaps more accurately, never remember having that limb that had been missing in the first place but retaining a sense of incompletion all the same. That was how the woman resting on the table felt as she woke - there was no knowledge of who she was, only faint memories and feelings, millions of them, that hinted at who she was. A voice that called out to her drew something of a smile, although it came as a grimace given the effort it took to open her eyes. The touch she felt - the sensation of her own flesh, even - felt foreign, as though she was experiencing something again for the first time, even though a nagging feeling told her she had felt it hundreds of times before. Her sight began to clear, the realization that her eyes had been open made apparent as the vision of a man she couldn't recognize - not entirely - came into view.

"I can hear you."

Her voice sounded strange, not her own, and it sent a ripple of concern down her spine like a cold chill. He had called her by a name, one that sounded intimately familiar, but it sounded wrong - Braith? He thought her to be this person, and perhaps, given its familiarity, it was who she was, but she could only grasp that it belonged to her, to be this person and not immediately know it to be her gave her the instinctive impression that she was supposed to be this person, this Braith. She had wanted to correct him, to tell him she didn't remember - didn't know - who she was, who this Braith was, but she was also coming to realize what the room around her was, what she was wearing - what little she was wearing - and there was an association of pain with his voice. And then there was fear.

She recoiled from his touch, though she didn't know why, and bore an expression of bewilderment at her own reaction, and looked to him with equal confusion. She knew him, knew his voice and something of his touch, but she couldn't remember why - didn't know why she knew. She didn't know why she felt so attached to him, and yet at the same time felt repulsed by his presence. It was though she carried the vague memories of different experiences from many different people in her, though the prevalent one, the one she resonated with the most, was a sensation of longing. "I don't understand." Again, the words, the voice itself, sounded strange. It would take some getting used to, but it was a voice that carried no attachment to her, and was one of the sources of her disassociation with the identity he had given her. There was a feeling of concern, somewhere, that urged her to simply take the name, the identity, for at least now - at least until she was certain who she was, where she was.

"What happened?"

She fished for answers, of course. It was a part she would play if it was one he would give her the lines to, though she worried he expected her to know - or perhaps remember, if she was this person he had called out to - all that had occurred immediately.

[member="Darth Prazutis"]

 

[Darth Prazutis]

​It was surreal.

​While he had relinquished many emotions in the time since they had been together last. The price of power and dominance came calling and he was forced into making the decision his master [member="Darth Carnifex"] and so many Dark Lords before them needed to make. While he made his choice even now there was this warm feeling growing at the back of the blizzard that was his mind. It felt like it was both familiar from his distant past yet it was alien. To see [member="Braith Achlys"] stir on the lab table and awaken it put a smile on his face. Out of everyone close to him it was her who he truly loved, to anyone without humanity this was a massive weakness to let someone in under your skin and make yourself vulnerable.

​But somehow she had managed to dig in deep even after he gave more of himself away, even after her spirit had been shredded by the vile parasite that used his lover's form as an anchor to this world. A part of him cared for her as he watched the emotions play out over her face, the confusion as she searched for the sources of these familiar feelings, everything was so familiar yet it was lost in shredded fragments of her soul that were lost due to the agony she was put through by Ananta.

"You've been put through quite a lot. A dark spirit took hold of your form and used you as an anchor, a vessel for this world while it fed off of your soul. She had you for quite some time before I realized it and was able to bring her down and for that I'm sorry." ​Braxus said hiding a look of concern beneath the surface. How much had been lost in all of that time in purgatory? He needed to check on the damage and perhaps give her some answers by showing her their memories together from the time with the Aing-Tii until her disappearance. "I can give you answers Braith, I can show you some of who you are, who I am." ​Braxus brought his hands up on either side of her face then her cheeks felt warm under his touch, he felt a familiar sensation touching her just then. It felt good. "You can trust me. Let me help you just clear your mind and let me in." ​Braxus said. He would then take a deep breath inhaling the cool air venting into the room and exhaling just as slow reaching out to her mind.

They were pulled out of reality just then as a bridge to their minds was formed joining them. Carefully so as to not overwhelm the woman who had just returned to the land of the living he let the memories play out. It began with the time they had first met in those cells growing closer to one another, learning the stories of one another and let their story play out from there as two people who first met fighting became close friends, and later lovers. Before her disappearance it felt like the hope for a cure to her cancer was nonexistent and she had known that before he did. Even while he refused to give up it was like she wanted to spare him watching her die in some medical lab cancer ridden right down to the bone.

​When the last memories finished right down to her return and they were brought back to reality more time had passed during their mental journey than they realized, well over an hour passing. "I know so much is different now. Your understandably a different person in many ways and so am I. But that doesn't change how I've felt about you. As you adjust to this world once more and search for who you are now let me be there to help you figure this all out." ​A part of him still felt like it failed her for not recognizing who Ananta was using so sooner. Braith was out in the cold to suffer by her hands and he didn't have the foresight to see it. He wasn't going to leave her now.

"Together."

 

[Ellie Mors]

[media]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=awIORO-MF34[/media]​

At first she thought perhaps the man had resuscitated her after some sort of accident, given the opening to his initial statement - that she must have woken from a coma, perhaps as an amnesiac. But as he continued to explain the bizarre circumstances she had been through, circumstances that she felt more than she remembered, like a faint tingle of a nerve pressed upon, the more she realized that there was something incredibly wrong with what he was describing. For a moment, between his apology and the offer he made to reveal to her things through his own memories, she wondered if she might indeed be this woman that this man had thought he'd brought back - that the memories were just dreams that had haunted her slumber while under the thumb of the darkness that had consumed her. But it was his touch that told her that there was more to this, more to both her and the circumstances she found herself in. What would she see if he showed her? Would she remember?

She shivered as he spoke, offering to give her the insight she needed, that she desired, and paled as he mentioned her trust. There had to be a familiarity between the woman he called Braith and this man, as he must not have realized the degree of how unsettling it sounded to hear a stranger request their trust. It didn't matter however, as despite whatever abilities she could have had in her previous life, or lives, she was as vulnerable as a newborn now, and his reach into her mind went unhindered - indeed she couldn't have stopped him if she wanted, there was no knowledge there to do so. So she watched, through eyes not her own, the events of a previous life play out before her - ending with what she assumed was this woman's disappearance. It was touching, certainly, but it wasn't her, and she wondered if he knew that simply telling her what or who she was did little in the way of change her into whomever this person was.

At least, until the grip of a feeling far removed from her consciousness pulled her under, like sleep ripping one from the waking world, and forced her to walk through eyes that were intimately familiar to her.

Braith's eyes.

When she saw him again, Braxus, the woman laying on the table smiled softly, sadly, as she realized what she was - and who the woman he searched for was.

"I'm sorry, Braxus." She said, though not an apology from a lover to her paramour, but as if she were apologizing for something else entirely - as though she was someone else entirely. And indeed she was, although she was simultaneously the woman he yearned for, as well.. and many others.

"It may take some time, but you will see her again."

A promise that required her disappearance, unfortunately, but her existence wasn't real - she, as she was now, was only the sum of her parts, and Braith would someday be the whole as the pieces came together.

[member="Darth Prazutis"]

 

[Darth Prazutis]

​So much had changed since they had last seen one another.

Since he looked into the eyes of [member="Braith Achlys"] they were two different people since then. While he continued to change as more pieces fell into darkness, she was many different souls formed into one cohesive whole. But to see her open those eyes again and even for the briefest of moments see Braith, his Braith again even with all he had given up she still brought something truly rare to his face, a genuine smile. In a world where he was known as the Lord of Lies where it was impossible to tell what was real and what was a façade, truly genuine emotion was rare. The disappearance and 'death' of his paramour came at a turbulent time and a flood of emotions came to him grief, regret, anger, hatred, they were powerful and raw but he vowed to bottle them and allow them to fester in his heart. Emotion was powerful and he could call upon it in battle, but it was also easier than dealing with it.

​Braith's return threatened to bring everything crashing back to the surface, a mixture of the festered emotion and other positive ones just knowing she was back. They pulled him in many different directions and there was so much he wanted to do, so much he wanted to say to her but he couldn't not yet. She wasn't whole quite yet, he would be wasting his words on a conglomeration of strangers who wouldn't understand, it wouldn't be the same, it wouldn't matter. But there was hope that he would see her again and even for the briefest of moments with her promising that it was enough for now.

"Take as much time as is necessary. I'll be here if there's anything you need in the meantime just ask. You will always have a home alongside me and my family." ​He said taking hold of her hand, he just got her back and he was going to have to let her go again but he understood why it was necessary, it didn't mean that he liked that he had to. "When you figure things out, when you are whole again come back to me." ​As if on cue clothes were brought in for her just then and placed down on a counter. Everything would be prepared for her if she wanted to leave including transport and whatever equipment she required. She would be well provided for and she would always have a place in House Zambrano, she meant everything to him.