Deathless
Breathe in, breathe out.
Ignore it all.
Quell the rage.
Let it go.
Let go of the hate.
Let go of the rage.
Let go of the rage.
Let.
Go.
Just like that, they said. When he first started, at least. The Silver Jedi were more than happy to take him in, more than happy to allow him to train. He wanted to learn, to better himself. He just found it extremely...difficult. Difficult, but not impossible. They said to look at the force like a river, a current in which a Jedi should not try and change the flow of, but dip their hand in to serve a purpose. To him, however, whenever he opened himself to the force...found it like a raging river. A cascade of hate, and anger that he kept welled within him, from years of torment, unleashing all throughout his body, his soul. The power, the rush, that it gave him was exhilarating- but taxing, and he could feel the impact.
During his meditations, he saw visions. Hallucinations, perhaps. Of what could be. Sometimes he was standing victorious, the Red Tower crumbling, standing at it's base, while the all-consuming flames cleansed it. Sometimes he was crowned, owning those who once owned him. He remembered how weak he was in those moments, when he was a boy. How he was abused. Beaten, broken, burned, stabbed, cut- subjected to neglect, torment.
It was difficult to simply 'let go' as they instructed, or at least, suggested. Or maybe it would come with time. But each time he felt himself tap into the force, let it go through him- it brought the worst out of him, the parts he was trying to get rid of.
The room's few, sparse objects began to shake, and he shook his head. He was failing to control himself again. He needed to compose himself, yet again. He stood up, rubbing his weary eyes. Rest did not come easy to Thal. He paced around the room, trying to find his 'center'. It would take him a while again, before he felt remotely comfortable repeating the exercise.
