Private A Shattered Homecoming

[Aryn Teth]

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Naboo, The Lakes District, The home of Srina Talon​

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Quiet. It always had been, but the first Aryn noticed as he descended from the ramp of his shuttle was just how stunningly quiet it was. Far more-so than usual, or perhaps that was just his trepidation. He had set foot on battlefields, crawled out of the depths of the Netherworld, and spent weeks living with the deadliest bounty hunter in the galaxy, why then did this empty home feel so much more daunting?​

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Because it was where he had run from, he suspected. This was where his downfall had begun.​

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The landing pad by the lake offered a stunning view as it always had, and stood protected by a pair of magnaguard droids, still marked with the insignia of the Confederacy. They were active still, Aryn could see as their eyes drifted past him, but their scans found nothing wrong. After all, he had once lived here - and apparently in his 'death' he had not been cleared from their sensors. At the very least, that made this easier, but it also felt like a knife in his chest. He had not been cleared from their database, as though he might have come back. As he had come back.​

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Slow steps carried him up to the entrance, and his hand on the biometric scanner quickly undid the locks. A moment too late perhaps, he wondered if such systems still sent notifications when they were keyed. He supposed it was done now. Reaching out to that connection that had hung over him since his return, he still found it frayed, that thin sliver holding on with fierce resistance, refusing to break.​

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Aryn walked inside, heavy footfalls echoing on the marbled floors.​

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He heard a cry from the kitchen and the sound of flames, the screeching vocoded shrieks of a pair of bunny droids. He heard laughter, the sound of a body hitting the sparring mat. He felt the warmth, the safety, the pain. He heard the explosion, felt his body as it was propelled against the wall. He felt consciousness and life leave him, he awoke to the sight of a tear on her cheek, to what he'd lost.​

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When sense returned to him he was on the floor, a hand clasping his forehead. How long had it been?​

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Pushing himself slowly to his feet, he sighed. It was all memory now, he had made sure of that. Moving to the stairs, Aryn carried himself up them with silent determination, his hand delicately resting upon the railing as he moved. From the hallway upstairs he could see the room he used to inhabit, the double bed still set up as though it had not gone a day without his presence. Thankfully the droids still worked to keep the dust off.​

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He did not move there, instead he pushed down the hall, to the emptier room a few doors down. They had never properly cleared it out. The crib sat in the center of the room, a mobile resting over it with decoration and shelves full of toys around the room. In the crib lay a small stuffed rancor. Slowly, Aryn wandered towards the crib and lay his hands on the edge of it, peering down within. How long had he searched? How many places had he looked? But they were nowhere to be found. How long had it taken him to learn that they were gone, that his child would never be?​

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Slowly, he sang, the Echani tongue still coming naturally to him. "Et earello, endorenna utulien... Sinome maruvan, or hildinyar teen'... (Welcome, and well-met. My brave little spark...)' He had heard her sing it a thousand times before. In the quiet moments when she had thought he was asleep or not focused, her hands running slowly over her belly. ​

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The memory hurt, but he could not escape it. He would never escape it.​

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[Srina Talon]

N A B O O
Tag: Aryn Teth
_________________________________________________________​

She hated Naboo.

No matter how much time she'd spent among its people or walked the streets of Theed she still found herself at a loss. A ghost among the masses. Since the walls of the Confederacy had crumbled beneath the weight of outside forces—That had never been more apparent. She had no place. Nowhere, now, to call home. Eshan was in the hands of a woman-child, presumably, capable of leading the Six Sisters into a new era. She was not the leader, nor, the pillar of strength that her mother was and the rumors were unsettling. Geonosis and Naboo were troubled but like every other sovereign nation pressed onward toward the future. The telltale hexagonal symbol that had once boomed from the heavens with conviction and meaning was systematically being erased.

Forgotten.

Isley Verd was still making preparations for the remnants of their people. Soon, they would have a new roof over their heads. New beds to sleep in. New friends, family, and leaders. The Echani was uncertain whether or not he would want her among them, considering, her failure. An eldritch horror had torn them asunder while rifts split open to the Nether to allow creatures and beings of malevolent intent to pass through. Her personal battle had prevailed; but the overall victory had been stolen through the unforgiving lens of a galactic stage.

She could not be everywhere at once, however, she could be here. Present, on this damnable green and blue marble. Booted feet brought her through a sea of golden waving wheat that swayed back and forth in the evenings' breeze. There was no ship to accompany her. No Magnaguard, at her side. Ivory hair flowed unbound down her back like a river while the dark material of her clothing presented a startling contrast. A black gown that swept after her, pattered, with a barely visible brocade of symbols. The neckline swept low though it presented the illusion of modesty by a webbing of lace that went up her neck. Her arms were wrapped in the same material.

Silver orbs stared emotionlessly forward while wisps of smoke clung to the edges of her being. Her form blurred and flickered before it solidified. Splitting the night road, the world between, was a newly acquired skill. She could travel far easier toward Maliphant with the assistance of joint rings they wore but she had adapted. This amount of distance had stretched her to her limits. Dangerous, she had learned. To lose strength and control in the void was to forever become lost in the nothing. To become part of it. Atomized, if done incorrectly.

And yet—Here she was.

The phantom feeling of familiarity had begun not long ago. Deliberately, she had ignored it. It was more realistic to blame the reemergence of a memory than to assume the Commander of Ashes had returned. The notification that made its way across the Holo-Net was alarming. The droid personnel and security were more than capable of handling the everyday thief, plus, it was not a home invasion. It was a simple notification of entry by a registered individual.

Normally, this would be of no import. Except, that the individual had disappeared in the dead of night nearly a decade ago. She remembered it clearly. Their connection had tremored as if besot by a prolific earthquake. She had reached for him, as she always did, only to find nothing. Either he had willingly severed their bond, or, fed himself into a sun. He was presumed missing. Gone.

Dead.

Because—That was the only way he would have left her side, was it not? Only the permanence of the grave could have pulled him from their home. From their bed, from their life. Only that.

Srina Talon came to stand before the quaint lakeside cottage and the soft lights within seemed to flicker invitingly. It was a small abode. Flowers grew stubbornly in well kept beds and the paint had been kept meticulously pristine. Almost, as if it were a shrine. A museum of things lost. It was in this place, on these grounds, that a memorial for her child had been placed. A statue not far from the main house that was kept just as clean as the rest of the property. White roses filled the area from one end to the other—As was tradition. She never forgot. Never, stopped mourning.

She merely learned to adapt.

The feeling of the being that moved around her former home as if he had any right to was a different story. This was not something she could adapt to. She could feel him. Deep in her veins, in her blood, and on her skin. Almost, as if he were a second pair of clothing. The air felt short. Too thin. After all this time…All this time, he returned. How many nights, how many, many hundreds of nights had she wept for him, begged, the moon for him. How many days? How many years?

How long had he ignored her cry? Listened to her, felt her, knew that she was breaking alone?

How long had he hidden himself? Betrayed her? How long had cowardice settled in like a plague?

Even now—He came here. Here.

Not to her. Never, to her.

There was a high-pitched sound that began as a slow rumble of earth. She didn't hear it. Couldn't. It made wolves howl while those sensitive to certain frequencies would hold their heads in pain while it rose and broke the sound barrier. A deep breath. Just one, and upon exhale a sonic scream ripped through the cottage like a hurricane passing overhead. Dirt ripped from the ground. Flowers tore from the soil and roof tile ripped away as if it were made of paper. Windows shattered, blowing inward.

The structure itself remained intact, though, anything that wasn't nailed down would find itself whipping around like a weapon. Golden corruption filled brilliant silver orbs in the same way clouds came to blot out the moon. Her goddess need not see what she had become, though, her war-bound culture would likely approve. It was their duty to destroy that which weakened them.

Purge it. Kill it, if needed.

As if the presence before her rubbed salt into an open wound she breathed again. Screamed, again. Unmoving. Unfeeling, unthinking. Pain. The Echani did her best not to let it in. Not to let it take over. Not to terrorize her in the night, nor, bring self-doubt. She had always suspected she was never good enough for a Jedi. She was unfit. An unfit mother, companion, and at this rate an inept leader. Everything she touched turned to ash. Everything.

This time would be different, though. She was not the same woman she had once been. The light within had dwindled down to the smallest spark, swallowed, by misery and the Sith-Born drive for power. Lines of darkness began to form a latticework pattern in the soft skin beneath her eyes and her blank expression seemed to cool by degrees. To freeze—As cold as her heart.

This time, would be different. There was no saving it. No stopping it. The mere slip of a woman would pull on the Darkside as it willed and would deliberately reduce everything to ash. This time—She would ensure it stayed, dead.

She breathed. She screamed. Again, and again.

Spoiler

Ring of Aspiration
Mudarra
Mothers Wrath
Holdin' Aces

 

[Aryn Teth]

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Srina Talon​

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The nursery stood unmoved, untouched. He had felt the presence as it had grown closer, that bind that had held on so desperately had gradually began to form itself anew, as though proximity were all it had needed to let its tendrils seep out, to grab hold of each end and draw them nearer once more. By the time the Echani woman had laid her foot on the grounds, he could feel her heartbeat, hear her breath.​

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Feel her fury.​

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The force formed a barrier around him, around the room. The rest of the home might have been decimated, furniture and structure broken and shattered by the force of her scream, but not this. He had run from this, tried to destroy it, tried to renew it so many times before, and always failed. What had it cost him? No, this time nothing would harm it. He would run from it no more.​

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As the force surged over and through the building, he felt it surge into him as it always had. It was not the first time the wound at his core had fed, not since he had returned. In fact it had made every effort to draw on whatever wellspring it could, any energy. But now, now it gorged. The familiarity of it, even changed as it was, stronger. He felt as it surged through him and found trepidation return, what would happen if he set foot outside?​

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He could not stop himself.​

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Slow footfalls took him to the second storey window that overlooked the garden where she stood. Another blast of energy threatened to throw him back, but the force willed him to remain still, to resist it. Through that renewed connection, he reached out, a feather-touch to her mind, to her heart, to that final remnant of light that lay hidden at the very depths of her. There were no words to it, not at first. Just the faint brushing of his mind past her own, an exchange of heartbeats, of breaths, of the deep pains they both felt. When the words came, they came slow and soft.​

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"I am sorry."​

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A step out the window and he allowed the force to carry him to the ground safely, his feet laying softly upon the ground even as it was blown and buffeted by the energy of her scream. His steps carried him closer as his eyes wandered her form. He had never forgotten the lines of her face, the way her hair fell over her shoulders. Even in her fury, she was beautiful. ​

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To describe her had always been impossible. He could have said 'she had pale-white hair', but that might have suggested he had known pale-haired women, some of them lovely. It would be too far off the mark, though, that woman could not have anything in common with her, not her ice-cold charm, her sharp wit. She was unlike anyone he had ever known.​

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Ever, she had been like fire to him. The light might have been what caught the eyes of others, but what made him lean close had nothing to do with its bright shape. What drew a man to a fire is the warmth felt when you came near, the same was true of Srina, even now.​

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In the end, all he could say was that she was beautiful. She was beautiful through to her bones, despite any flaw or fault. She was beautiful, to Aryn at least. At least? ​

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To Aryn, she was most beautiful. Even in her shattered rage.​

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"Êl síla erin lû e-govaned vîn... (Hurt not the stones, but me.)"​

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[Srina Talon]

N A B O O
Tag: Aryn Teth
_________________________________________________________​

The scent of ozone seemed to have replaced the gentle whimsy of Rominaria and Queen‘s Heart that had once graced the window sills. Sightless yellow orbs did not see the building that was slowly being ripped from its moorings. They saw only the blurred aura of an entity that had become a symbol of suffering, misery, and disloyalty. It had the same frayed edges. The same vortex that stole away the Force itself and swallowed it whole. She remembered, briefly, trying to heal him on Leritor.

The wound at the center of his being had nearly drained her entirely and she had barely managed to close the wound itself before being spent. It felt like he was devouring everything she was. More than energy. More, than just the Force. Her soul. But then, that was the price he had always commanded.

That she give of herself—And expect nothing, in return.

She might have kept screaming until the small cottage was little more than rubble if it weren’t for the fact that he suddenly reached out to her. He crept through a Force Bond that was weak and fragile from disuse and lit it on fire. He would see her step back at the “featherlight” intrusion and watch her face turn sharply away while he found his way to the ground. She flinched, from him. As if he had struck her. His pain echoed within as if it were her own. His angst—His guilt. It ripped through her mental walls and tore open wounds that she had long since hidden. Made them new, made them fresh. “Lendë.” (Get out.), she hissed in return to his apology. The fact that he spoke her mother tongue, still, infuriated her.

He had no right. None.

Her gaze snapped back toward him as if it belonged to a bird of prey. Her chin rose in defiance, nigh, imperiously. The corruption around her eyes spread further and deepened to the point where it seemed like it might never recede. Destruction. That was what Aryn Teth brought her. He reached brazenly inside, into places he had no right to be, to touch things that were no longer his. To elicit some sort of response? To…What? To what end?

// I SAID GET OUT //​

The entirety of the valley would be able to hear the telepathic shout. The valley, the town, and even the capital city in the distance. Anger fueled her abilities and they swelled with every passing moment. The young woman often had a tendency to hold back. She acted, as was required. No wasted energy. No wasted movements. His mere presence caused that legendary control and iron will to shift from its axis. The lock that kept the Darkside at bay seemed to have snapped. It seeped with an aura all its own. He would feel her Master within her, no longer. This power belonged to her, and her alone.

She could feel what he was thinking. Feel, the way his eyes followed her. Her hand formed a fist and her nails began to dig into her palm. Slowly, but surely leaving bloody crescent moon marks behind. It took everything she had not to let go. Not to simply release, everything, she had ever felt on the unsuspecting countryside. But…She wasn’t a slave to the Force. It was her tool. She would use it. Not the other way around. When her voice returned, he would find her speech slow and dual-toned. Somewhere between her own and something much deeper, much darker.

“Whatever you are…Whoever you are now…You are not welcome here.”

Her left hand extended slowly at his request and a collection of darkness began to form and solidify. In the night it began to form a spear of midnight black. Over the years it had become her trademark. It was quick, ready at hand, and had put even greater beasts and men flat on their asses. The creature that stood before her, in the skin of her former lover, had a different fate, however. This thing, this abomination, she intended to gut, crush, and burn the remains. “As you wish.”

Her free hand clenched against the rod made of the Force and she drew back with lightning-fast reflexes and threw the spear at center mass. If he still remembered anything she’d taught him—He would move. If he wanted to live—He would move. The spear was physical enough to slice through most defenses but ephemeral enough that most traditional armor wouldn’t help. The fact that she was wearing a dress held little to no bearing on her movement. Srina darted forward, quickly, following up after the spear and he would see her palm come in. She would appear to be aiming for the bridge of his nose, though, she would change direction in the last moment and release a punishing burst of telekinetic force into his midsection with the other hand.

It was better, close quarters.

She wanted to hear his bones break. Exactly, as he’d broken her heart.

Spoiler

Ring of Aspiration
Mudarra
Mothers Wrath
Holdin' Aces

 

[Aryn Teth]

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Srina Talon​

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He moved.​

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The spear of midnight black surged past him - he had known it the moment she had drawn upon it, she was not the only one who drew upon such shadow. As she moved, he found himself unsurprised, inwardly, he knew he was deserving. The reaction she had shown to his voice in her mind, to his presence within her, along with the pain and memory he had felt. That was the pain he had once run from, once locked himself behind four doors and died to escape.​

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Not this time, there was no escape. Just repentance.​

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As the Echani closed the distance, the stance came to him naturally, he had never forgotten it. A feint was the first thing he had expected, things were never as they seemed with the Echani and her fighting style had ever been an extension of herself. Such was the way of things with her people. He had learned to converse in this way, and they had always shared more serious bouts of emotion on the sparring mat. How else could he have expected her to show her emotions? She had been worse at speaking of them than she had been at cooking.​

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One hand came up to divert the blow of her feint, an almost gentle movement that guided her arm back to her side. His other hand came down to catch the blow from her second hand, but a blow did not come - instead, a burst of energy flung him back, his body slamming hard against stone walls as he collapsed to the ground and rolled.​

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It had been so long, he could not have expected everything to be the same.​

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Flipping to his feet once more, he returned to his stance, the same one he had taken before her so many times before. Aryn Teth had known that he could never compete with Srina Talon in her own artful mastery of the form, she had taught him everything that he knew, and though he had become an expert in Echani Martial Arts, he was still a child compared to her virtuosity.​

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He could never compete enough to put her on the mat. Only ever could he hold his own long enough on the defensive, to tire her through his impenetrable guards, his weaves. In this silent conversation, it marked everything he wished to convey perfectly.​

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It's alright.​

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This is just.​

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Release what you must.​

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The message reverbed not just through his movements in the early stages of their bout, but the rapidly-renewing bond, too. She had willed him out of her mind, but he would not acquiesce. That was his opportunity to fight back, for he had once told her he would never willingly leave her. And he would not. Even if she swore and screamed at him to, even if she drove him to the edge of death and past that final door once more.​

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The last time his mind had shattered, this time - it would take his body. And he would not allow it. She was not his anymore, he had known as much. He had no right to her, no right to walk her mind as he once had, no right to stand before her or to walk the halls of a home once his.​

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He had no right.​

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But he had made a promise. A promise. Bones would mend, but regret would stay with him forever.​

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[Srina Talon]

N A B O O
Tag: Aryn Teth
_________________________________________________________​

She knew he would move. Move, or die. Coward.

The stance he took was too familiar. The way he breathed was too familiar. He favored the same side over the other and even tried to disengage her blows the same way. Gently. There was nothing soft or sweet about her anymore. His decision to abandon her, their family, had all but assured the only thing left of her was cruel, cold, and unbreakable. He had deceived her; her actions deceived him. An eye for an eye. His touch to her skin burned, which, likely made the strength behind the telekinetic blast even more punishing.

He was still there. He had left her mind as demanded; however, he was still there. Still moving about beneath the surface of her skin. Trying to relight that which had died a decade prior. Trying to bring something dead, forgotten, and fragmented back to life. Nothing could repair what had been broken between them. Not time, not apologies, not anything. She had given him everything.

Trusted him, explicitly. Against tradition. Against the teachings of her people. She had even gone against the warnings of her Master. Foolhardy, and blinded. To think that there was something or someone in the galaxy that could ever truly see past her ineptitude.

<<I've known men like him all my life, Srini. He will only hurt you in the end.>>​

How right Darth Metus had been. He had been kind enough never to mention it. Never to rub her nose in it, though, she remembered when he'd expressed his concerns after seeing a new ring appear on her finger. He knew how she felt for Aryn Teth. Bound, as Master and Apprentice were. It was also very highly likely that both he and Darth Empyrean would feel this fight. She was always very good at shielding her emotions through either connection. Not this, not now. It was impossible.

The Commander of Ashes got back on his feet. Once, she might have praised him. For taking the blow and getting back up. That was the Echani way. If they got knocked down, they always got back up. Now? Now, she scoffed. He could keep getting up. He could take the beating. It only meant that he would die slower, sore, and endure every ache and pain for as long as he fought to draw breath.

He could not win.

Srina followed his movements and noted almost immediately that he wasn't returning her blows. He dodged and blocked plenty, but he never took it a step further and returned fire. It was a silent statement that she understood all too well. He didn't want to hurt her. At least, this version of himself didn't want to. She took a big step forward with her left leg to get into her guard and rose her arms, bent at the elbow, with her left fist higher and farther forward than her right.

A few sharp jabs would force him on the defense. No matter how strong he was, she, was stronger. She would find an opening. She would never let her guard down in any fight but never, ever, would she let it down around him. She raised her rear leg up and to the side, bending it back on itself, so that the back of her calf nearly touched her thigh. Her form leaned slightly in the opposite direction for balance and she released a quick, crushing, roundhouse kick.

She never stopped moving to see if it would hit and merely spun out of range. She braced herself against the wall for a moment before pushing off to attack with renewed fervor. He wanted her to fight. To feel. He wanted her to speak with him. To do what she needed to. To fight, to get her anger out, so that she could accept him. His refusal to fight her was selfish.

Not that it was a surprise in the slightest. He didn't want to hurt her?

Too late.

"…Get out of me. You don't know me. You don't know what I've been through. You don't know what I've done. What I've had to do—"

Her words were broken, partially, because they came in-between blows. But also, partially because she was struggling to get the words out between clenched teeth. She chased every movement he made, followed up, and, and refused to give him a second to breathe. She didn't need air. She didn't need anything but the wind against her skin and the satisfying crack of her fists making contact. Even when he blocked, the full force of her attacks would hurt like hell.

When he started to anticipate a little too much she dropped to the ground, touching, with the same bloodied hand that touched the wall, before sweeping her leg out to take his feet out from beneath him. If he jumped or dodged, she would roll forward and sucker punch him in the back of the knee to bring him down to her size. He might have been larger between the two of them; but that had never mattered. Srina would spin back to her feet in a flourish of white hair and dark material.

"I will kill you, Aryn Teth."

A warning. Just one, only one. It was more than that. It was cold and bitter. He brought back things that were better left lost. The clouds that had rolled in began to tremble from the weight inside them and a light sprinkle of rain began to fall. It reminded her, again, of too much that needed to remain forgotten. Interring the remains of her child, alone. Visiting her grave and that of her sisters, alone. Weeping, alone. He had promised never to leave her. He had promised, so many things.

And yet—When she needed him most? He was nowhere to be found.

Her anger renewed itself and so did her attacks. Faster, stronger. The Force had become woven into her combat over time. Instead of a telekinetic blast she charged her hands with electricity that gave off bursts and burns when they landed. She raised the voltage, bit by bit. It seemed that she had every intent of making good on her threat. The longer he stood there and faced her—The closer he would be toward returning toward his natural and preferred state.

Dead, and gone.

Spoiler

Ring of Aspiration
Mudarra
Mothers Wrath
Holdin' Aces

 

[Aryn Teth]

​

Srina Talon​

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He remained a flurry of movement. Once, when he was a novice, he might have just blocked her, kept his arms up and knees ready to catch and parry her blows, but he was not a novice, not anymore. He ducked just beneath the roundhouse kick. The connection had formed enough that he could sense her, feel what she was doing, what she was thinking. She might have tried to force him from her mind, but he would not be cast out, not now, not ever.​

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Aryn had come to learn many things about death, about the Netherworld.​

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When deaths comforting embrace had engulfed him, he had lost all those he had formed, all the connections to the life forms in the galaxy that had once been important to him. All connections save for hers. It was the memory of her, the thought of Srina Talon and what they had lost, which forced him to that part of the Netherworld. It was her connection that had lingered, unbreakable and unwilling to shift, to bend, everlasting.​

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It was that connection that had allowed him to come back.​

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"Then tell me - show me... I will never forget, I can not. And I will not leave."​

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His words were stoic, unwavering. He was resolved in what he had to do, what had to happen. All that lay here was a choice, one for her. If he never left Naboo, if her fury and her loss was so all-consuming that she would rather tear the life from him, then this was not a galaxy he wished to live in. The Netherworld would offer sweet release then, far sweeter than it ever had before.​

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A galaxy, a life without Srina Talon was not one he wished to live. It did not matter what they were to eachother, but she had been inexplicably intertwined with his soul. It was indescribable, the feeling that had surged through him the moment he had set his gaze upon her. He had taken his time, built up his strength before he had come here, before he saw her again. He still could never have been prepared.​

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It was as though he had gone out in the early days of winter, after the first cold snap of the season. Finding a pool of water with a sheet of ice across the top, still fresh and new and clear as glass. Near the shore, the ice would hold. Yet sliding out farther, farther, eventually there was a place where the surface barely held one's weight. There was the feeling he felt. The ice splinters beneath one's feet. White cracks dart through the ice like mad, elaborate spiderwebs. It is perfectly silent, but sharp vibrations run through the bottoms of one's feet.​

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That was what happened when he saw her.​

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It was not standing atop the ice, however. Not feeling as it is about to shatter beneath, to engulf him in cold, dark water. It was as though he was the ice itself. Utterly shattered.​

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He jumped over the sweep, but took the kick to the back of his knee as he dropped, gasping in pain at the sudden movement. But he did not waste his time as he moved to roll back and away, to flip back to his feet with speed as he made distance. He heard her warning, clear and plain as day. He didn't care.​

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"I have died once before, Srina. Even in death, I will not leave."​

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[Srina Talon]

N A B O O
Tag: Aryn Teth
_________________________________________________________​

She threw a right hook at his head with excessive force and lightning arced through her core. It lit up the deathly golden hollow of her eyes before it moved through her shoulder, down her arm, and into the contact point. He could dodge as much as he wanted but he was too close not to feel the static snap and smell the hair that electrolyzed from his arms. Her torso drew back and she switched sides, punching again, swinging overhead, and coming back with a low uppercut. “Never. You…”, she breathed, and her eyes flashed with her rage. Srina couldn’t even finish the sentence. “—Never.”

“Never.”

He didn’t deserve to know what she had gone through. The shell of a woman he had left behind. In one moment, in one, single moment, one decision, he’d taken everything from her. Friend, lover, the family, the father of her child, hope, for the future. Her chest ached. Not from injury, but something else. Her hand swept down as she backed up and telekinetically swept up a wave of stone, gravel, and grit to throw at him. She knelt down, briefly, almost as if she were about to rear up and charge at him but she seemed to think better of it. Instead, she stood and began to circle him slowly.

A large feline or predator playing with its food.

“Leave. It’s what you’re good at.”

The bite to her words was uncharacteristic of her. The bitterness that swept through while the bleak and baleful energy surged through her veins. She could feel him there too. Waking up connections. Deliberately, trying to appeal to her through a metaphysical link that had been near dormant for years. It was painful. Akin to regrowing a limb. There was nothing that could soothe that ache. Nothing that could take away the sting, the burn, nor the injustice of it.

When he recovered once more, he mentioned that he had died before. For the moment, it stilled her. Processing. Her teeth ground together and her head shook slowly. Bothered by the tightness in her chest that seemed to increase with time. Had he really died? Their bond had inexplicably shattered. What had always been a line of bidirectional communication went silent. She had always assumed that he had either unwillingly cut her off or died, but that was only because she looked at him in a certain light.

With the eyes of someone that loved him, unconditionally. With the eyes of a woman that had agreed for better or worse to become his wife. Who had been proud, elated, to carry his child.

It didn’t add up. Not then and sure as hell, not his absence now.

“If you hadn’t left, you wouldn’t have died. You had a choice. You could have stayed with me. You could have stayed—”

Silence. Again.

There was wetness on her cheeks that wasn’t from the rain. She didn’t bother to acknowledge it. All of this was meaningless. The past could not be changed. Nothing, could save her child. Nothing. Her voice was raw and there was too much emotion bleeding through. That was his fault. He was playing with her memories. Bringing them back. Bringing everything, back. It was cruel. “You chose this.”

“You chose to abandon our family when we needed you.”

Srina moved closer to the fence post adjacent to him and let her fingers brush against it before her other hand rose and a new spear of midnight black began to percolate in her grasp. She made it smaller. Thinner. Deliberate footsteps took her back to the midpoint of their makeshift fighting ring. Her heartbeat rang so loudly in her ears, it was deafening. Memory after memory poured through her while he pressed for their bindings to reconnect. Everything flooded her. Every sensation. Every emotion—Good and bad. She flinched as her head tilted to the side so she could forcibly block it out. “You were gone, Aryn. I felt it.”

Rather than throw the small spear back at him she used it to dig deep into the palm of her already injured hand. The scent of fresh blood hit her nostrils and sweetly curved lips formed words that were old. Forbidden.

Was she so beautiful now?

| | . . . [O D O J I N Y A] . . . | |​

The bloodied hand came to slap against her chest where her heart would be. The six anchor points that she had touched with her own blood, the spear that landed behind him, the wall, the fence, the earth twice, and finally her own body, began to glow with dark light. From nowhere and everywhere poured strands of dark side energy that would wrap around and ensnare him from every angle. She had surrounded him during their fight. “If you won’t leave—I will force you out. You are a poison to be drawn from a wound. A parasite, stealing, and surviving by infecting an unwilling host. There is nothing left in this body for you to recognize. Nothing left, that belongs to you. ”

The Dark Web was a lattice of energy that would suppress and eventually sever his connection to the Force, and thus, his connection to her. It would steal his strength. It would no longer be a fight if the strands of darkness caught him. Merely, an execution.

“I won’t let you ruin my life twice.”

Spoiler

Ring of Aspiration
Mudarra
Mothers Wrath
Holdin' Aces

 

[Aryn Teth]

​

Srina Talon​

​

Lightning arced through the armguards he wore, and he felt flesh and hair beneath rapidly burnt away by the shock. His body weaved and ducked, anything he could not avoid being caught and parried aside. His movements remained fluid, his responses gentle. Srina may have had the intent to kill, to brutalise, but he would not return such violence. He would not harm her.​

​

As a wave was sent towards him, his hand flew upwards in a fluid motion, wind and air seeming to burst forth from the cracks in the ground beneath them to form a solid wall. Stone and debris was cast aside, leaving him unscathed, and as he straightened, he turned only to keep his eyes on the Echani woman as she began to circle him.​

​

Her words hurt more than anything else she had done, but they were even more deserved. He would not fault her for them, he could not, cruel as they were.​

​

In that moment, her words and her actions were like a storm. He would not blame the storm and call it mean, he would not curse it for its actions. It acted according to its nature, and something was hurt. The same was true of Srina. For years had this storm been brewing, the seeds of it sown by his own actions, his own mistakes. Now that he had returned, it was on him to face it, to be decimated by it.​

​

Her words were a far sharper spear into his chest than anything she could have summoned. But there was nothing he could say to defend against them. He had died, but she was right - that was a fate of his own making - of the machinations of his own shattered mind. Had he stayed with her, lingered in his shattered state... No, no he could not have done so.​

​

Aryn's mind had been broken, his willpower utterly decimated. They had already lost so much, faced so much. In the choice between her losing him entirely and watching as he was overcome by madness, as he changed from the man she had loved into a twisted visage entirely unlike himself...​

​

He had chosen the lesser evil.​

​

But it was still evil.​

​

"I am sorry."​

​

Pain surged through their bond, mingled in a swell of emotions that made it impossible to decipher who it belonged to. As she drew forth the spear to carve into her own hands and he heard the words she spoke, more emotions flooded into the bond - chief among them, fear.​

​

"We have been here before, Srina. You will die if you do this, there is no running from it, no hiding. You have never belonged to me, even now - the moon belongs to no one but herself. But this tether is one that cannot be broken." His words were quick, near-panicked. He had cared not for what came of himself, even as she threw the first spear he had contemplated standing his ground, letting her end him. But now, he could not let her do it to herself. Even if he lost her, if all that they had once been was gone, if none of it could return.​

​

He could not let her die.​

​

The webs around him were all-encompassing, she had laid the perfect trap. There was no escape from them, no way that he could avoid them as they were drawn in. For all the powers he had learned in the Nether, all the tricks and all the fury that he could call upon from the dark side, none of it would avail him here. But he was not only of the dark side. For the longest time, he had never been.​

​

She was the moon, and he the sun. Closing his eyes, he set his hand to his chest and called upon that same bond she sought to sever. Past the surface layers of anger, of fear and loathing. He searched through memory, through time and through dreams for what lay at the core of them. He had been told long ago that love would lead to the dark side, that its passion would corrupt. It was first and foremost among the things he disagreed with the Jedi.​

​

Love would save him, it would save them both - of that he was certain.​

​

In the depths of his heart, he called upon all that she had given him, all that he had learned from her. He called upon the spark of her that had led him kicking and screaming into the galaxy once more, that had kept him tethered to this reality, and he let it burst forth into a raging bonfire. He called out through their bond, fighting through the maze of her anger to the very depths of her where her own spark had lain dormant for so long. He had once walked so effortlessly through her mind, and even now - he knew it as an extension of himself.​

​

| . . . [H I R I L V U I N] . . . | ​

​

The light that burst forth from him was near-blinding. It surrounded him and burst upward in a beacon that would not allow the darkness she had summoned to reach him. Even the dismal state of their former home, the oppressive emotions that seemed to cloud over it seemed to renew themselves and fade. From his feet, the ground settled and flowers began to bloom, white petals near-shining in the intensity of what he had called forth.​

​

"I won't let you die."​

​

 

[Srina Talon]

N A B O O
Tag: Aryn Teth
_________________________________________________________​

"You know nothing of remorse."

The acrimonious retort was issued in a manner that was sharper than broken glass could ever hope to be. He kept apologizing. As if that made a difference. She didn't know exactly what happened, nor, did she need to. She only knew that he left. That when he returned, he kept his distance and let her think that psychosis was taking hold. Because, as always, and evermore from Sullust and onward could she feel him. Sense, him. It was madness.

Aryn Teth was an infection. A virus. He had slipped inside so long ago. Incubated. Then—Released. He wreaked havoc on her every system. On her judgment. She should have never come here without Maliphant or at the very least a platoon of Magnaguard. He compromised her in ways she had no defense from. He compulsorily widened the Force Bond. Read, her mind. Tried to pierce her heart.

Tried.

He would not succeed.

The words he spoke weighed less than sunlight to her. The way he spoke her name caused something ugly to rise from within that she had no name for. When she told him to "leave" she was referring to both his physical proximity and his metaphysical tether. He wouldn't give either up. The warning he issued dredged up an unwanted memory. Sullust. They had been here before. The waving shadows of the Dark Web that she'd created slowly collapsed on the target without mercy.

She could read his panic.

Taste his fear.

The answer was there. Buried, in his selfishness. She almost had it. Almost. A surge of emotion welled from their shared connection and her head began to ache from the weight of it. The sheer density and wealth of his convictions pulled on every thread, every memory, to try and find some way to reach her. To reason with her. The brightness that erupted from his core was deafening. It pressed back the tendrils of the Dark Web, for now, but Srina was not so willing to give up. To bow and break before the sheer weakness of his remnant Jedi tricks. Her trap was written in blood.

Consecrated, fueled, by her own blood.

Did he really think his light show could end it so easily? He brightened the night and pushed away the oppressive atmosphere and she could feel a dark laugh roll up from the pit of her chest. It was pathetic. Was this what he thought? That love would save him? His love was but a shadow that haunted her waking hours with worry, shame, and depression. His love was little more than a reminder that she was never good enough to actually have it. To have the basic decency and respect that the mother of his child deserved. To have him care, enough, to batten down the hatches and push through the pain with her. At her side. Where, he should have been.

He chose the easy path. The cowards, path. She had been required to adapt and learn how to move on alone and without losing her mind. Without sacrificing others. Though the temptation had resonated within her louder than a bell, she had resisted, because she was better than that. She was stronger. Srina Talon believed in herself. In everything, she had done. She would not be brought low and decimated by some self-centered ghost from her past. She would rather die—

She paused. Full stop.

"You will die if you do this, there is no running from it, no hiding."
​

There it was. Between the bands of darkness and the flare of light, she saw the truth of it. The lengths of her power moved through the flowers that bloomed around him and caused them to wither away and die. Testing. She reinforced the web and repeated the incantation. Over, and over. Repetition gave it power, strength, and resilience. Dedication, belief, and sacrifice would make it stronger than the fireworks he set off. Her still bleeding hand lifted and slammed down on her chest again. Each time caused a deathly echo. Each time, let the dark tendrils get a little closer.

"I won't let you die."


​

"That is not your choice to make."

Because finally, throughout everything, she understood. The only way to be free of him was to let the mists beyond creep in and take what was left of her. If she placed her anger and rage to the side and tried to come to a logical conclusion—That, was it. She could not remove the threads that connected them through space and time. She had never been able to, nor, had her Master.

The only hope she had of being free was if Aryn chose to remove it. He wouldn't. It came with a cost that he wasn't willing to pay. She was. Srina would pay it, with interest, to be able to finally rest. To sleep in the nothing and never return to this plane of existence. The Confederacy had fallen. Her Master, was breaking. Eshan was led by an inept child. Her siblings were dying, one by one. Her child was dead. The entirety of the galaxy was populated by corrupt sycophants—So, what exactly was she fighting so hard for? What? To lick the boot of some new power?

To be used? Wielded, as a weapon?

"Release me, Aryn Teth."

The clouds rolled in again. The rain that burst from them was not gentle this time. It was torrential and sharp cracks in the night sky signaled that it was going to be one hell of a storm. She couldn't undo what had been done. He could. But, he would only do it if he felt like there was no other choice. Because he wouldn't let her die. Maybe, his removal wouldn't kill her. But the lightning that rolled in the clouds overhead? The screaming, terrifying, death from above?

That would. That, most certainly would.

"Release, me."

Light arced down from the sky and snapped the earth near her feet. It was close, too close.

She made no effort to move.

Spoiler

Ring of Aspiration
Mudarra
Mothers Wrath
Holdin' Aces

 

[Aryn Teth]

​

Srina Talon​

​

Of all the things that Aryn Teth had expected to find in returning to Naboo, all of the wretched memories and revelations, all of the painful sorrows and cruel fates... The last thing he had expected was to look into a mirror. Not a simple mirror either, it was not in the anger she showed him, or the attitude to which she had taken to this reunion, it was far deeper than that, far more complex.​

​

It had not been an easy thing to notice. If he had listened for an hour, he might have begun to feel it in the stone and grass underfoot and in the rough, splintering beams of wood in the house. It was in the weight of the black stone hearth that sat cold from fires unkindled. It was in the slow back and forth of a white cloth rubbing along the grain of the kitchen counter as the droids tried to tend to the home even in its decimation. And it was in the hands of the woman who stood before him, full of fire and fury.​

​

Just as it had once been in his hands, full of ice and misery.​

​

She was as he had once been. He had dared not make such a connection, forced himself to believe that such a thing could not, would not befall her as it had him. She had continued to live a life beyond him, she had found another to dote upon her as she was deserving, she had found power and strength. She had those who had stood by her in his absence, her master still stood at hand to support her as he always had. As he no doubt always would.​

​

And yet, here she was.​

​

It was the way she so willingly gave herself to it that made realisation dawn within him. It was utterly sickening, twisting his soul and tearing it apart with a force far greater than any of her words could have. That was the coup de grace, not the dark tendrils that surrounded him, not the cruelty to her words as she bid him leave her. It was the fact that in her, he saw himself. He saw what he had been, what he had become in the aftermath of the Alliance's fall.​

​

He saw what he had become when he left her.​

​

He knew the rain to be unnatural the moment it began to fall, but as his gaze cast upward he told himself she could not intend what she truly did. Had he not seen what he had seen, he would undoubtedly have been too late. He did not say anything, words were wasted - it was not the Echani way. But even as he felt the panic and fear begin to surge in him, he called upon it, diverted it to determination, a will to save a life, to make amends for a past mistake. To do what he could never have done then.​

​

His hand flew upwards, and the light that surrounded him surged forth in an explosive flurry of energy. The valley had heard her cry, but now they would see the light that surged from him, as though dawn had come early and chosen to blind those with the misfortune of being outside. It dissipated the web of darkness she had summoned at the cost of sacrificing his own protection. If she would make this a choice between his life or her own...​

​

So be it.​

​

With what energy he still had, he called upon that passion, that determination that had filled him, overwhelmed him, and launched himself towards her at speed. The lightning flashed, but he was already there. She could have ended him then and there, he didn't care. He reached her, one hand finding its way around her as the other flew back, a burst of telekinetic force launching them from the garden, down to the courtyard below.

He felt the heat rip up his back, his cloak burnt near to a crisp by the sudden bolt as it hit. As he flew down, he hit the ground hard, turning them in the air so that she would be cushioned by him. It was all he had the strength to do then, as he landed, his head fell back, and his arm dropped to his side away from her. As he lay there, he knew he lacked not the strength nor speed to stop her if she chose a killing blow. If she truly chose to sever their connection for good. Words were worthless, but sometimes they were needed.​

​

"Be better than I was, Srina... There is little release there."​

​

 

[Srina Talon]

N A B O O
Tag: Aryn Teth
_________________________________________________________​

In the moment, she was ready.

If one bolt didn't do the trick, she was certain after the first crack of thunder that Aryn would break. One way or the other. His will had always been malleable. Once, she had sought to protect it. To keep him safe. She remembered following him into untold battles, horrors, and watching as the sky fell in Coruscant. Watching, as Sithspawn devoured citizens whole. There was nothing to be done but evacuate. To pick up the pieces. Regroup, and start over.

But, that never happened. He threw in the towel. He placed even the burden of awarding funds for humanitarian efforts on the shoulders of her Master. He quit. The man she knew never came back from the bowels of Coruscant burning. She would do every ill, carry, that weight. She would coat her hands in blood—For him. So that he might stay as he was. So that he could be spared.

So that Darkside, would never have him.

None of it had ever mattered. Not a thing. They were always fated to wind up exactly where they were. Standing on opposite ends of the spectrum, divided by a chasm, and unable to hear the other scream. She was the night, he the day, and so it would always be. When he burst free from the tangled web of shadowed bands she was surprised. Perhaps, for the first time. It was not her convictions that failed, nor, was her magic weak. Something spurred him onward.

Her safety?

Were it not for his body colliding into her own and the sudden tumultuous jumble of being tossed down the small hill and into the courtyard she would have scoffed. Aryn Teth did not care for her. He cared for the memory of whom she had once been. Whom she was, no longer. They rolled while lightning tore up the earth and turned bits and pieces of dirt and sand into glass. She wasted nothing. Not a moment, not a breath. She pushed herself away from him as if his very proximity burned. Her knee dug deeply into his chest to keep him down and her hand extended toward his face.

A silent command willed a hand cannon into existence. It spun around her finger and the grip landed in her palm as it always did. The rain had lessened from his explosion of light-sided trickery but it still fell around them in a light mist. Thunder rumbled. Roared. But the night sky could not completely clear. She wouldn't let it. Why should he, see the stars before he died? Why should he see the moon? Why should anyone? Her daughter would never see, never cry. Why did he get the chance?

What was so special about him?

Her chest heaved while she tried to breathe and cold golden orbs burned holes into his face. She kept the disruptor leveled. Point blank. Perhaps, he could block the shots. If he had the strength left to do so. Perhaps, he could move. She could feel water rolling down her skin. Her gown was soaked and it felt…So heavy. Everything, felt like it was crushing the air from her lungs. Briefly, she considered turning the weapon around. Aryn, was mistaken. They were not the same. She was not, his reflection.

She didn't want to die. She just didn't want to spend another moment tethered to him. Why was that so hard to understand? Everything else had fallen. Her world crashed down around her. In pieces. Why could she not have this one thing? Why could not one, simple, small thing such as her mind or her heart be her own? She could feel her jaw tighten while her eyes began to sting.

"Be better than I was, Srina... There is little release there."
​

"I always have been."

She wanted to be free, but, at what cost? She was willing to pay the ultimate price but she wasn't the only one that would suffer the consequences. Darth Empyrean deserved more consideration than she had been given. She knew what it felt like when he was in danger. When the Enclave had taken him. When he went to war and she was trapped halfway across the galaxy. She knew that particular hell. To force him into that loss? He would never know, what happened. Their rings would alert him to her final moments but…That wasn't fair.

If she let herself die in order to rid herself of the Force Bond she would be no better than the abomination she pressed the sharpness of her knee into.

"I don't want to be free of the one I love. I want to be free of you and everything you represent.", she murmured, almost hoarse, but still, her aim remained true. Her face turned toward the sky for a moment and a half-laugh escaped her. It was cold. Empty. So very, very hollow. "…I hate you."

Her head dropped back down and golden eyes found his while she brought the weapon closer. She let the muzzle press against his forehead and counted the span between heartbeats. She could pull the trigger and end it all here. It was possible that he could return again, but it would take him time. Srina could go back to feeling blessed silence on the other end. She could turn off his hurt, his pain, and stop letting his guilt become her own. He had invaded her being—And he was no longer welcome.

She pulled back a little and her hand shook. It was small. Imperceptible. It steadied. Forcibly, steadied. She was not weak. Srina Talon, was not weak. Nothing touched her nothing mattered. She was a Queen of Dread for where she walked all knew her name. All knew to respect, to fear it, because she had earned that by acting with indifferent precision.

"Goodbye."

The disruptor went off almost as if she'd fanned the hammer. She fired. Again, and again until the chamber was empty and the only thing that could be heard was the steady click of being out of ammo. It should have decimated his face. It would have. Had the angle not changed slightly so that she shot the dirt directly beside him. Silence filled the air between them and she slowly rose from her kneeling position. His ears would ring, but he would live.

She turned away and the clouds in the sky seemed to settle.

"If I must bear this burden so that I do not abandon my loved ones—I will shoulder it.", she murmured into the air. The rain hid her unacknowledged tears. The evening pressed away a multitude of sins, but she would never forget. Srina could feel the ache in her chest widen with every passing breath. Every moment, she remained in his presence. She did not want to feel. Not anymore. Never, again. "I hate you... Not because you left…But because you brought me light."

"You took me into the sun. Let me stay. For a little while…", she trailed off, quietly. Her tone could have almost been considered soft were it not breaking. "Until you locked me back in the dark. Alone. I would never have known what the sun was like to miss it. I was fine, with the dark."

"…Until you."

Until he took it away.

Her feet felt like they were made of lead while she tried to move forward. She was so, so very tired. Too exhausted to teleport. In the moment? She just wanted to leave. Be anywhere, but here. Anywhere, but near him. She walked toward the untouched memorial, truly, the only thing she cared about on this wretched planet. She could see the tips of stone wings in the distance.

She would regain her strength there. Speak, with her child.

And tell her nothing of the father she had never had.

 

[Aryn Teth]

​

Srina Talon​

​

For a moment, for the faintest few seconds of passing time, Aryn Teth believed he was going to die.​

​

He made no move to stop her as she pushed herself up, as she dug her knee into his chest and summoned forth the disruptor to hold it level with his face. He lay there, his arms at his sides and his breathing slow, laboured from his efforts. He felt his vision blur not from the rain as tears found their way through his stoic armour. They fell slow, trailing marks of flame down his cheek that he could not will away.​

​

She had been saved, she would live on. It was not something to which he was owed credit, he had flung her from it but it was her choice to not make his mistakes. Yet again, she had done what he could not. For all of the time they had known eachother, she had always been the better of them. He was the Supreme Commander, a Jedi and a leader of the largest government in the galaxy. She was a Sith Apprentice, exarch to a Confederacy. He was never deserving, he never had been.​

​

But her? Srina Talon had earned her stripes, time and time again. How many times had his callousness, his foolishness, thrown him to the center of danger, to the borders of death where he was forced to rely upon her to drag him from it? He was a sun that had burned too bright, always too bright, and she had been the constant and stoic moon, ever-present and ever-watching. It was all but inevitable that his failures had brought them here.​

​

It had taken him so long to learn that lesson. It had taken him stepping into the arms of death to know just how weak he had truly been. He had found strength there and returned renewed, he had promised to never be as pathetic as he had once been, not to be the weight he had. And yet here he was. He was no longer the one she would be leaping after, the one to whom she felt she owed some part of herself, but he was bound to her, and he had seen from this that so long as he was, he would be an emotional anchor upon her.​

​

But he could never escape that. Neither of them could.​

​

"…I hate you."​

​

Of course she did.​

​

You left without a word, you know. She was just beginning to trust you before that. Before you got angry. Before you ran off. Just like every other man in her life said you would. Lusting after her, full of sweet words, then just walking away. Leaving her alone. Good thing she's grown past you now, isn't it? Otherwise you might have hurt her again. Otherwise you just might have broken that poor woman's heart.​

​

The voice that echoed in his mind's eye spoke with such clarity, such truth-of-purpose that it could not, would not be denied. She had grown beyond him, it was better this way, it would always be better. He may not have been the weak, pathetic man he had once been any longer, but she was still better than him. She always had been. He had never deserved her love.​

​

And he didn't now.​

​

He closed his eyes, and waited for the end. But the end did not come. The sound of the disruptor going off beside his head set his ear ringing, and he could barely hear the click of the weapon as she drew back the trigger past when its ammunition had spent. He had never known her to be imprecise, he had never known her to waste any action. And yet, here they were.​

​

His eyes opened once more, and he saw her turn away. Everything within him hurt. His body ached, both from her attacks and from the energy he had expended. His head, his ears, his mind and his heart. All of him was an orchestra of pain. But still - he stood - he would not, could not rely on her or anyone else to lift him back to his feet. His strength was his own now, he needed only rely upon himself. He would not subject her or anyone else to being his crutch to lean on.​

​

She may not have willed it, not wanted it, but he followed. She had chosen not to kill him, for whatever that meant, but he would not escape her now, nor she, him. Slow and pained footfalls carried him along behind her, towards the memorial he had not been there to help her lay. His eyes drifted over it, heavy with sorrow and memory.​

​

"She looked like you."​

​

His words escaped him before he knew they had come, willed into existence by the memory that burst forth. Their child had been lost before he vanished, before he had died. By the time he had come to the Netherworld, hers was a spirit well-aged and acquainted with death. He wondered if it was that which had ensured his connection to Srina remained, those years spent among the soul of what had been lost. "When I found her, in the Nether... Perfectly like you. She knew us both, so well, too. From all she'd heard before... From all she'd seen and glimpsed from beyond - she..." Was any of this good, would any of it help? His eyes drifted slowly from the memorial to the woman he loved.​

​

Was any of this right?​

​

 

[Srina Talon]

N A B O O
Tag: Aryn Teth
_________________________________________________________​

He followed.

She moved with a sense of duty and purpose versus acquiescing to any ache or pain. The blood from her wounded hand that had been smeared across her upper chest clashed against milk-pale skin like a comet streaking across the sky. Never once did she turn to look at the man that shadowed her every footfall. His presence was a constant. She would need to accept that—But she did not need to accept him. For what he had done, for what he would do.

Srina came to stand before the modest memorial as she had many times before. Her hands rose. Her right formed a fist and her left came to clasp over it while her thumbs crossed. A symbol for a heart. A beating, heart. Love. Her lips pressed against her thumbs and she heaved a shuddering breath. The statue itself was of a girl-child sitting within a crescent moon. Carried, by their maker. The wings of a crane reached toward the sky and streams of water shot up around it. A small pond with white lilies surrounded that. Roses filled the rest of the clearing, save, for a small pathway.

It remained undisturbed from their fight due to a force-imbued preservation and protection stone that graced the base of the pedestal that sat before it, clearly, meant for burning incense. The Echani bent down to pick up one from the metallic canister on the ground and a twist of her fingers brought flame into existence and she lit the white stick. Let it burn, a moment. Before blowing it out.

It was made of many things. Items that were considered holy on Eshan—Important, to her. Srina knew that the unborn was female but she had never given the youngling a name. Not out of disrespect, but an inability to choose. She didn't know what her smile would have been like. Her laugh. Her eyes. She didn't know anything about her other than the steady, strong, little light that burned at her core. That fought. As hard as she could until she could fight no more.

Here and at several other memorials, Srina left her blessings. Shared her secrets.

When the voice of Aryn Teth hit her ears, her shoulders tightened. Though, she did not turn to acknowledge him. The words he spoke were sacrilege and made her stomach twist painfully. Her jaw clenched. "Do not lie to me. Do not try. If I so much as suspect a false thought in your mind I will remove your tongue, bloodily, and ensure you choke on it.", Srina responded, slowly. Coldly. Her eyes had faded from mottled gold to their usual steel-born silver.

Sith corruption receded to its hiding place while she continued to swallow her rage. Barely. It simmered just beneath the flimsy surface of her skin but for the sake of everything she held dear she kept it where it belonged. She could not kill him. He would not kill her. Thusly—They were at an impasse. Although the notion of breaking his ribcage like toothpicks held merit, unfortunately, she needed the energy to return from whence she'd come. "You may speak any wickedness you wish of my name—But you will leave my daughter out of it. She is not a pawn, nor, will I allow you to let her become one."

The small flicker of hope that burned in her belly was slowly turning into a dagger. One that he twisted. For so many moons she had wished for nothing more than to see the face of her child. To hear her, just once. Yet, in his cowardice, he was given that gift? The one who had not laid her innocent frame into a casket so small that she could hold it with one hand? Him?

The betrayer, the absentee father, the liar?

Him?

Her shoulders grew tighter still. Boxed. Her hands came to clasp before her lips again and she murmured one of many Echani prayers. Both to wish her daughter well and to find her center. Unlike the remains of the cottage not far off she could not bring herself to spill blood here. She could not do that before the eyes of her child, in spirit, or otherwise. She had never known evil.

Srina would not bring it here.

She repeated the prayer. Again, and again. Each time with more conviction than the last while the fresh memories of finding out the youngling was stillborn kept resurfacing. Every pain, every ache, every violation she endured in the aftermath. She held her once. Only, once. And the next time she saw her flesh and blood was to inter her in the earth. In a coffin that felt…So light…

There may as well have been nothing inside it at all.

The young woman felt torn in two. She wanted to rail against the man that stood at her back with everything she had. She wanted to drag him out of this sacred space by his arm, tear it off, and beat him to death with it. But…She also wanted to know the truth.

What mother wouldn't? Even if it was a deception, which, it very well may have been… She wanted to know what had become of the child she had never been able to raise. She wanted to know. Needed to. It wasn't the first instance she'd heard of loved ones returning from the Nether in the last decade. Most agreed, however, that her circumstances were unsalvageable. Her youngling had been too small, too weak, to develop a sense of spirit.

How could he have met her?

More than that…

"…How…How could you leave her behind?", the sound that escaped her lips, near reverently, was a muted wail of pain. "Did you abandon her, as you abandoned me?"