No Light, no light. [Sarge]

[Ereza]

Caught in the riptide current of the galaxy's troubles, Amore awoke one day in the middle of a grassy field, terrified and gloriously painted in her own blood. It was a warm spring day and the sunshine dripped through the clouds, like the sky was a broken blue bowl that someone was trying to keep honey in.

She managed a faint smile, despite her condition, and even a somber, heartbroken laugh. For you see, trouble is like the dark starry night sky, it covers the whole galaxy and is impossible to leave behind. But sometimes, just sometimes, you get a brilliant sky like this and for a moment you can forget that fathomless black void.

There was a breeze through the grass that carried in the tune of voices. She wasn't alone this time. Amore closed her eyes and let the warmth of the honey-sun spill over her. For a time she slept dreamlessly - four days to be exact. When she woke it was within a fever of fright, eyes glazed over as old memories replayed within her mind with pristine clarity. Such was the curse of an eidetic memory.

"Preacher!

Eriadu...

...I can see his hand...

...head line, set high over life line..."

She began to recite the palm reading she'd given the man, word for word, under her breath, gaze swimming in and out of focus of the world around her.

3. 15. 25. 12. 7. 21. 1.

Over and over.

.

.

.

.

Several hours later a message relayed to the ship of the man known only as "Preacher" blinked on the incoming line. The bust of an older man shone on the holorecording.

Good day. My name is Errin Doreau. About four days ago my family and I happened upon a young woman in the fields by our home baring significant burn-like wounds on her body. We have since taken her into our care and began administering treatment to her visible injuries, but I'm afraid she has sustained a malady of the mind that we are at a loss to help. I won't go into great detail, but she has mentioned a man several times - a man called Preacher, and began repeating numbers that we believed to be for his comm line. If we've guessed right and you are this man, I must please ask for your help. This Preacher is our only lead to this poor woman. I've enclosed coordinates to our location on Centares and I thank you for any aid you can offer.

[member="Sarge Potteiger"]

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

[member="Amorella Mae"]

It wasn't every day a Jedi Master got a personal call for help; at most, these requests for assistance went to the Council who would then give it to Jedi most suited for aid. Send the Wookiee to Kashyyyk, for example. But this was the first time he'd gotten a request on his own, personal commline.

But as he looked at the brilliant orb of Centares hanging amid the void, speckles of distant stars behind it, he found himself frowning. Young woman...

That was more than half the galaxy. Who in the hell were they and why were they here?

He knew no one on Contruum, and fewer still who'd even so much as visited. None of those were women.

But his freighter took him to the coordinates, looping around the home set amid the plains before nestling itself down onto massive landing struts a safe distance away. This was no time to visit the city and take a speeder out here.

If it was bad enough to call a Jedi Master personally, it was bad enough for him to just land the ship next door. Standing up and pulling his hood up over his helmet, he made sure his saber was on his hip and headed towards where the ramp was. Already, the great wings of the craft were retracting in the fuselage. He could hear the groaning whine of the servos as they worked.

Taking a grip on one of the struts supporting the ramp as he walked down it, he found himself looking out upon a dreary, cloudy day on the plains, great stalks of plainsgrass swaying violently in powerful winds from the east.

Just who in the hell was this woman.

 

[Ereza]

It was some time before anyone appeared - the same man from the holovid, approaching carefully.

"Are you...are you Preacher?" he asked, voice only loud enough to be heard over the winds. He held raised hands at his front, hopeful for an affirmative. The silent nod was all that was needed for him to release a breath he likely had been holding since sending the message.

"Thank goodness. Please, let me show you to her..." his eyes trailed away from the armored Jedi towards the sky before he turned on his heel, uttering something about a storm coming, and lead the way back to his home.



They reached the entrance only minutes after the rains began and stepped inside, dripping and windblown.

"Errin Doreau," he offered, pulling his suit jacket from his shoulders and setting it over the back of a nearby chair, "...I sent you the message ..." Errin seemed a bit on edge, considering it was likely an easy thing to recognize him. The man cleared his throat, "thank you for coming. We're really quite worried - my wife and I. My wife, she's a nurse, patched the girl up. Would've taken her to the hospital until she began having her fits....panic attacks. We're not really sure what they are, but we thought it would be better to keep her here. I just got laid off so I was home to watch her. Ah- hm, this way then, she's this way."

Through a hall they walked, pausing shortly before stepping into a side room that was dimly lit by a small lamp off towards the back.

There on the bed Amorella Darke, or someone whom Preacher would know better by the name "Mae," was sound asleep. A cold, dreamless sleep.

Errin stepped back, warily eyeing [member="Sarge Potteiger"] as he allowed him to approach, "Do you know her?"

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

Sarge eyed the man he'd recognized from the comm, even as he asked his questions and lead him to the nearby abode. Voluminous folds of his Jedi robes were flung about madly in the wind, cloth snapping and cracking like a disciplinarians whip.

But the rain pinned them down under the weight of absorbed water, making them stick to his maroon-dyed beskar'gam. Stepping indoors, water dripping around him in a circle that was quick becoming a puddle. He didn't move to remove the robe or even lower the hood.

He didn't know who this woman was at all. For all he knew it was a Sith who simply recognized the name and had gotten his comm number from a destroyed Temple. This was no time to get lax, even if he didn't want to be rude. It was almost physically painful for him to stay garbed thus, but it was something he felt he need do.

And so he followed Errin without a word, hands obscured beneath the brown cloth of his robes. Pausing as he saw Mae, the bulky Jedi took a step forward and reached a hand out, robe slipping up his forearm as he did so to reveal a crushgaunt covered hand.

It settled almost tenderly onto her forehead, as if the simple act would fix the situation at hand. "What are her panic attacks like."

He didn't answer the other question.

 

[Ereza]

"Frightful," the man answered, face pale, brows raised.

"Sometimes she wakes, screaming or wailing, as if from a nightmare - but we can't rouse her from it. She doesn't see us, doesn't acknowledge us. Struggles against some hallucination and...the first time we weren't sure what to do, but the longer on it went the higher her temperature became. Feverish, almost to the point of scalding to the touch. The air around her was hot, even. My wife administered a sedative, and that put her out again." Errin spoke with a deep frown, eyes trained on the woman in the bed. He slowly moved to pull out a chair and settled into it with a heavy sigh. The man rubbed at his eyes and shook his head a bit.

"Othertimes she stirs awake, and its as if she sees us through spans of fog. Her clarity it...comes and goes. She'll speak to us for a bit, seem to understand, and then she'll just drift off into what my wife believes are conversations playing in her head. That was how we learned of you. You're the only person she's named, several times. She kept repeating things ...a palm reading? And the numbers to your comm, of course. We were going to take her to the hospital a few days ago, until she gave us your name. We thought it was best to try and find someone she knew first, rather than chance her fate at the institution where likely she would have been deemed clinically insane and set on drugs."

He blinked, eyes trailing once more to Sarge, "I don't think she is - insane, I mean. I think she's been hurt."

[member="Sarge Potteiger"]

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

The man simply stared at the woman, fingers curling faintly across her head as he frowned beneath his helmet. "She's definitely hurt. She's a very coherent and bright young woman. Nothing wrong with her, so far as I'm aware." His quiet, muffled voice was almost on autopilot, with little to no inflection.

His mind was, quite clearly, elsewhere.

Frowning further, he called upon the Force to get a feel for her, see if there were any maladies in her body; illness, poison, Dark Side corruption. The Force wasn't his specialty, but at his level of skill even a non-specialty wasn't anywhere close to a liability.

If he could get to the nature of her problem, he could get to the solution.

Hopefully.

"Any pattern? Other than me, of course. Like an interval, or a regular time she starts. Do they only last a specific length of time, perhaps?"

 

[Ereza]

A roadmap to all the energies contained within what was known through a large portion of the galaxy as a beacon of light, the heart of a galactic populace, was not at all what one might expect. Darkside Sickness still lingered - dormant within her system, contained by the remnant powers of two powerful Darkside users: Jacen Cavill and Soliael Devin Talith.

Death, too, left a marked signature, especially when brought about by an evil source: Mikhail Shorn, Darkside Master, had literally crushed the woman's heart with his mind. Her resurrection at the sacrifice of her White Guard still pained her to think about, but never so much as her heart still pained her to feel. It had yet to fully recover and even the Aing-Tii, some of the greatest healers of the galaxy, doubted it ever would.

Then further radiation and Darkside contamination from the battle at the Silken Asteroids. The Darkside Star conjured by the heathen Lord Krag who opposed the Crusade alongside the Horde had swept it's corrupting tendrils across everyone present that day. Purification had proven immensely difficult.

And the piece de resistance? Well, that would be the 500+ years of memories impressed upon her mind by a one Sith Lord Ashmedai in an attempt to make a connection. All manner of heinous, horrific, Darkside-driven monstrosities that he'd witnessed and enacted now saturated the unseen realm of her mind.

"No," Errin shook his head, eyes drifting now to the floor as he sat to think for a few moments, "no. It's just sporadic. Haven't had a solid night of sleep for the last few days. She'll go quiet, like this," he nodded towards her, "for an hour, few hours maybe. This is the longest she's slept since we found her. Been out since...about seven this morning."

Another sigh, the man rubbed at the back of his head. It was hard, being so helpless.

"Least her burns are healing, or whatever they were. Looked like her skin had been seared clean off under those bandages. We've had them covered with bacta, my wife's real good at patching people up."

[member="Sarge Potteiger"]

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

He wasn't adept at reading people with the Force - his skills were based on body language and intuition - but even he knew a taint when he saw one. There was a lengthy frown and a sigh as he stared down at her without uttering another word.

The silence grew to be oppressive as he considered his options, and finally he gave her a gentle pat on the shoulder. Not that she would feel it. "I will reimburse you for whatever expenses were incurred by her care." The man had just been laid off and he was under no obligation to help this woman live.

It was easy to pass something like this off with the nearest law enforcement or hospital, but he had not done so. That was quite noble, even if Miss Mae was a time bomb right now.

"Do me a favor... and find me some restraints. She's quite ill, and I'll be waking her up momentarily."

He did not mention that what would likely wake her up was his attempted purging of her. This might get violent.

 

[Ereza]

Errin grunted, a noncommital sort of reply to the offer.

"You know, strange as it sounds, it was nice to have someone to look after again. My kids moved out years ago - never hear from 'em anymore, but I guess that's how it goes..." the man itched at his jaw and turned, tired gaze looking up at Preacher's next words, "restraints? Hmm, Sheli might have something in her medical supply."

The man leaned over to a large laquered wooden trunk, throwing up the latch and lid. It was filled with datafiles and pads on one side and medical supplies on the other. Rifling through the assortment, he pulled out a bundle and unwound two straps from it.

"Collapsible stretcher," he muttered as he pulled free one last piece, "from hospice care, when her mother lived here." With a sigh he moved to attach the straps to metal support bars under the bed before securing it across Amorella's abdomen and arms, then across to the other side.

"What do you think -" once finished, Errin stepped back, "think you can help her?"

[member="Sarge Potteiger"]

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

"I might be able to..." He mutters quietly, palm resting on her forehead again. Making a quiet noise, he closes his eyes and takes in a deep breath. Exhaling, he drew the Force down through his body and sent it along his powerful arms until it began to flow into her.

At first, not unlike the coming of a storm... it was a drizzle of power. But as the strength increased, so too did his presence. Before long, he was almost aglow with energy, the power of the Light coursing into her.

This was likely going to get violent.

 

[Ereza]

That trickle of power stirred within the unconscious woman a beacon of light within all the darkness. Like a lone star in the far off void of space after what felt like an eternity of searching for life, for light - Amore's heart clenched, overjoyed.

She began to approach, to follow the dim illumination. Around her shadows began to coil and furl, lingering along in her wake, reaching out towards her.

Don't go. Stay. Sleep.

Stay in the dark. Watch over us.

I cannot, this is not where I belong. I must find my light again before I ever return to the dark...

Pressing on, a wind picked up from the source and filled her lungs. On the bed, in the room, Amorella Mae began to breath deeply, slowly. It carried in a scent that she would never, could never forget. She could never forget any of it, ever. It was her curse.

I know this presence, she moved faster now, the reassurance of familiarity empowering her to find it, join it. Stride for stride, her mind struggled to return. The winds picked up and she braced herself against them

It came to me on a distant planet...

The light was growing brighter, though she couldn't tell if that was due to closing the distance or it if was growing in power. The winds had become so strong she could hardly bare to fight them - Amore had faced adversity before but never against that of her own beliefs and her own faith, her own path. There were no Gods here, only the power of self, a power that had been fading with her for some time.

On the bed a grimace formed on her face, her fingers curled inwards.

I can endure...

Stay with the shadows ... don't leave.

It was so bright now it hurt to look at, the winds grew hot, but she forced herself onwards. The shadows clung, they clawed, they grabbed, they pleaded. She felt her skin begin to burn as around her the edges of the darkness smoldered.

Fire.

Black leaked from her eyes and nose, dribbling down either side of her face. It smelled of sickness.

Errin pressed himself against the far corner, eyes wide, skin pale in the glow of power surrounding the armored Jedi. The room was growing hot.

Her blood was boiling, her skin melting.

Molten.

Hot.

Was this a test?

Was she worthy of a second chance?

I am worthy of the Light beyond the darkness. I can endure the challenge to follow it.

Against my pain, the corruption of shadow, I will not bend, I will not fold.

Amore's figure seized on the bed, pressing against her restraints, a cry of pain sounding from clenched, fanged teeth.

I am so close, I can see it now. My oblivion.

The cry became a wail of agony, the black now oozing from her eyes and nose, sputtering from between her lips.

I will learn not to fear it. I will learn to accept it as my own.

But most of all...

Her skin was so hot to the touch, painfully hot, sweat beaded from it. The restraints groaned in protest and began to snap.

She reached the light and it swallowed her whole.

Amore's eyes snapped open, blues pale and faded, whites yellowed with ill. She screamed through the agony of corruption as it burned from her veins.

I will not relent.

"PREACHER!" she cried, her pain was now such that it had surpassed all feeling. It was a state of heat so great that it had run cold. Pallid blue eyes searched through the fading darkness as for the first time in months they finally saw. Landing on that silhouette, though it in itself was not familiar, his presence was. Amore released a harrowing breath, the tension of her body giving way to full out physical collapse. An utterance left her lips, incomprehensible. Her eyes closed again and she fell still.

Black.

[member="Sarge Potteiger"]

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

There wasn't much for the man to do, except continue to pour the Force into her body in an attempt to purge her of whatever ailed her. He was, by no means, a student of Force Light. A rudimentary understanding of it was being generous.

But he was still a Master, and even a little bit of purification could go a long way in light of something so corrupting. Before long, she was... well, he couldn't begin to describe his thought process.

Disgust was about the only word that fit his face. His feelings. It was just... disgusting.

However, he didn't relent. Even when it felt like she'd melt his hand clear off, only to have it begin to freeze on him. Struggle. Snap. Restraints not doing their job. He cared very little. Him and her.

Force versus Dark.

And then, like a drowning person surfacing for great gulps of delicious air - she collapsed, having screamed his name. He smirked. First time that's happened where they weren't naked.

"I think she'll be OK." He says to the man in the corner.

 

[Ereza]

"What do you mean?" Errin returned, breathless and pale as a ghost, "Look at her!"

It was true. Though metaphysically she seemed to have stabilized, physically she looked the victim of some very horrific forces and powers. The black still oozed from her eyes, nose, mouth and ears. Her skin was raw, hot, smelled of blood.

"Good Gods..." the man said under his breath, slowly rising from his chair to draw closer, head shaking. He paused on the brink of what had been the sphere of energy surrounding the two during the ordeal. It was still painfully hot to be in.

"What can I do? This...this is beyond me and my wife. She needs to be moved to a critical care unit."

[member="Sarge Potteiger"]

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

The Jedi's head turned, looking to the woman, then the man, then the woman again. Head lifting once more, he shifted his eyes back and forth again while keeping his face firmly pointed at Errin. "I have two eyes. I am not blind. I am perfectly capable of sight." He says in a deadpan.

"She will be fine." He turned his attention back to Amore with that remark, frowning as he did so. Placing a hand on her forehead again, he shook his head. "There is nothing you would be able to do." That would have to suffice. This was beyond his scope of ability to repair, and Sarge certainly wasn't a healer.

"I will take her back to the nearest Temple. We will care for her there."

Placing his hands on his thighs to push himself up, he huffs. "We'll put her on the stretcher, then my ship. She can sit in bacta on the trip to the Temple. My medical droid will be more than able to keep her stable."

 

[Ereza]

Sallow-faced, Errin's frown deepened. A bit of mortal fright couldn't be helped when one wasn't capable of comprehending the forces at work here. Lips thin, breath shallow and heart just about shot for the evening, the man nodded wearily. It was simply easier to accept that Preacher's words were true than to mentally fight these things he clearly didn't understand.

The Jedi were good people, after all. A Jedi wouldn't steer him wrong.

"Thank you," he managed, breathless, "let me help you then."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

On the ship, now secured in a bacta tank, Amorella Mae, Heiress of the Kuatian Throne, Once-God of a galactic Crusade, hung suspended in the glowing red liquid. As still and silent as the dead, she'd stirred none during the move from house to ship.

Errin bid Preacher farewell, both apologetic and overwhelmingly grateful. He stood back, watching the ship lift off from the meadow grasses, a growing look of relief on his face. Beyond, the silhouette of his wife arriving home, watching from the windows could be seen by those who might notice such things. She trotted out onto the patio, and everything after that was lost in the roar of engines and the growing darkness of the night sky around them.

The absolute darkness of space swallowed the ship and soon so did the silence of interstellar travel.

I remember my first ride in a ship, into space, as though it were yesterday. It is such a frightful experience, when your feet leave the ground. You never know if it might be the last time you feel the grass between your toes or the breeze on your skin.

I remember the sensation of weight and weightlessness as the floor beneath me swooped through the stars.

I remember the illumination of distant solar systems peeking in through the viewports, glinting off glassteel surfaces, blinking with the passing of the ships of KDY.

I remember the jarring sensation of hyperspace, as though my soul had somehow gotten left behind and the hope I might find it again at our destination.

I remember holding my father's hand and squeezing it so tightly, afraid he might lose me, too, if I even dared loosen my grip for a moment.

I remember my brother, so nonchalant about it all, so carefree of the dangers our mode of traveled concerned, smirking at my apparent fright.

I was four years old.

She was watching the stars again, feeling weightless and serene. Somewhere on the ship, the ghostly force presence of Amore drifted along the viewports of a corridor.

[member="Sarge Potteiger"]

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

With a ghost in the corridor, a Cat Aurek in the bacta tank, Sarge was left alone in a cockpit staring out into the depths of hyperspace with blankness in those void-dark eyes of his. Nary an emotion fluttered across his features, set like stone as they were. Wherever he was, whatever he was thinking, it was parsecs away from where his body lay.

A faint raising and lowering of his chest was all that gave indication he hadn't died, and an elbow was propped on one armrest so he could rest his chin in his palm. For once... there was nothing on his mind. Just breathe in, breathe out.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

Snap back to reality, swirling eddies of extra-dimensional everything replaced by the inky void of realspace. Ossus had been the closest temple, and it was Ossus where he'd take her. "Temple Control, this is Master Preacher. I've a Cat Aurek on board - prepare the medbay."

"Affirmative." Was the short reply.

The freighter was angled for descent and soon enough she'd be in better hands than his.

 

[Ereza]

The light shines in the darkness.

And the darkness has not overcome it.

I will not relent.


The Healers of Ossus were baffled at the reported story. Darkside possession, they wagered, all the signs pointed to it. Master Preacher had done the right thing, they said. But now what to do with the broken body left behind. How to mend a shattered mind.

Time, they said, and the will of the Force. May it be on her side.


Hours pass, no further word. A flicker of faint energy, like the flame of a candle in the far reaches of midnight. It joined [member="Sarge Potteiger"], wherever he happened to be, in whatever state he happened to be in.

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

Sarge wasn't one to believe in a guiding hand, or rather, he was sometimes hard pressed to believe in one. But he followed his gut more often than not. So, when it began to pull him to check on Amore, that's exactly what he did. Pushing himself up from the desk he'd been seated at, locking the datapad he'd been reading from, he pulled his robe around his armored form and exited his stayover room in the Temple.

Who knew what the healers had or hadn't been able to do since he'd arrived. It didn't much matter to him as he made his way towards her unconscious form, eyeing the vital monitors the whole way across the room.