HEAD OF THE SNAKE
BLACKFANG - THE (NEW) JEDI vol. II
Issue #4 - Crisis on Cato Neimodia
Dagon Kaze
Halketh
The way the walls and doors began collapsing in on themselves, it forced him to apply some haste to his step. In concert with the taunts that were meant to instill fear, to haunt and make him second guess himself, it was disconcerting in a way. It was the first textbook time that Dun Moch had been applied to him. The words, an attempt to cause him to fumble, he reached into himself and pushed outwards, his Senses blooming, just a little further ahead of him.
Anticipate the change, move with it. He needn't overexert himself, just needed to stay a split second ahead of the change.
But with the pressing Darkness meant to oppress him beneath its benthic weight, he needed to reach deep. Just like that time.
A haunting scream echoed through the halls, he shook his head. It was bloodcurdling, and he heard the wet sound of a bloodied corpse hit the ground. Was it close? Dagon? No, he'd of felt it, he was certain, even while weighed down.
Something would've told him.
"Pray indulge me refulgent one, just how long will your spark last in the endless abyss?"
He shook his head. A faint shiver crawling up his nape. He felt the goosebumps rise on his forearms, but he was not cold.
The difference here in comparison to back then, he realized. Solipsis had been cold, yes, but chaotic. He meant to destroy them outright, rather than break their spirits. They were beneath him, but the Sith'ari had still sought to explain
why they were going to die.
Why he did what he did. He revealed himself, and in that lapse they'd been able to break free.
Caelitus played games.
False bravado or no, he told himself,
As long as necessary.
His Danger Sense warned of impending doom, and he lurched forward, faster. Only one path, he barely spared a glance to his flanks. Only forward. To Caelitus. No Dagon there to stop him. No one to pull him out. It was one or the other. A proper Warrior's death, if it came down to it.
"You met the abyss once before, how did it feel to feel nothing at all? To drift into the unknown? To be scattered amongst the stars?"
Leaps and bounds. He needn't answer. On his way to his own perceived end, he couldn't help but sink his lips into a grim smile. His insides weighed heavily inside of him, anticipating his end. Not unlike the last time he had faced the Storm. But it was necessary if he could deal meaningful damage.
"But dying in vain will only weaken us in a conflict that's end may not come with his demise..."
Eyes widening, his head shook. Why those words? Why now, here, of all places?
The memory almost lost him everything. Had his spatial awareness not been blooming around him, he wouldn't have noticed the shift as the wall admitted the Shadow Hand and placed him in the Sith's path.
Orange exploded in front of him and in those short seconds he barely had time to adjust his momentum.
He twisted, and he felt a flare up of pain as the searing blade burned across his ribcage. Using the Force to control his inertia, he didn't let himself worry about the pain, or the damage the cut had performed as he came out of the spin.
It had all been culminating to this point, hadn't it? Even as he appraised the unbeknownst doppelganger ahead of him - more so in the Force, than the limited light of their sabers - his battle-inclined mind was already working. A split-second was all he needed, springing at the Sith with an overhead slash to bring his first saber down, his other lingered in a guard before his second stabbed forwards, the rest of his body leaning into the plunging stab, as if to drive it through the Sith's copy entirely.
In the back of his mind, a voice less so told him in words, but
encouraged him to keep going.