Private Shattering the Isinglass

[Ishani Dinn]

Aboard the Ebion

Ishani was an excellent swimmer. She’d taken to it first as a little girl, learning how to float atop the ocean waves without her parents’ help. Even before the Atargatis Skin she’d stolen had given her gills and a tail, she had learned how to hold her breath and swim laps with arms and legs. In her teenage years she had even participated in competitions, winning a few swimming races. She was as at home in water as she was on land, a regular mermaid.

While she was trapped in the Netherworld, she’d had to avoid anything that looked like water. The river that cut through the land of the dead was poisonous to the touch, so she learned quickly not to trust any body of mysterious liquid she encountered there.

So when she next awoke to find herself completely submerged, she panicked. Keeping her eyes shut, she tried to swim upwards, only for her outstretched hands to strike a metal lid instead of breaking the surface. She was inside some sort of narrow container, like a bacta tank. There was no release valve. She was trapped.

There was something on her face. She reached for it and touched plastic tubing. A mask covered her mouth and nose, providing much-needed air. Breathing… She was breathing?

She was alive?

Elation and joy replaced her fear. She didn’t know how this was possible, but whoever or whatever was responsible for it, she owed them a great debt. Eager to find out, she reached out with the Force, seeking another life form nearby…

Shade of Decay​

 

[Shade of Decay]

Ah. You awaken. Good.

Ishani's probing didn't go unnoticed, far from it; only a few meters away, the master of the vessel floated in his own tank, his mind devoted to overseeing every aspect of the operation of the vessel around him. Enough attention remained unused, however, for other projects. Devising the best ways to teach and test Arcturus Dinn sometimes; others, focused on protecting his interest in the galaxy at large. The latter had led him to Tython, where a significant set-back to some of his plans had emerged.

The girl had died. Not only did she possess the gall and overweening boldness to consort with so-called Sith better left unheeded, jeopardizing not only herself but Arcturus as well, she had seen fit to go to Tython.

And die.

Even submerged as she was, Ishani would hear a small click coming from somewhere directly above her, before the air flowing through the breath mask cut off entirely.

Do you even want to live, child?

His voice, unreal as it was, nothing more than an illusion accompanying the thoughts projected into Ishani's mind, was dripping with scorn and derision, though he neither knew nor cared whether she'd have the presence of mind enough to realize it once she started choking, or not. It mattered little to him; either she'd free herself, or she would die again.

Prove that pulling your soul back from the brink wasn't some worthless endeavour, prove that you do wish to experience life, and I might be convinced to allow you the chance, girl.

Ishani Dinn

 

[Ishani Dinn]

There was indeed someone else out there, a presence that was unfamiliar to her—but distinctly corrupt. Very, very corrupt.

A chill ran down her spine. She knew better than to trust a stranger who had so fully immersed themselves in the Dark Side.

Sure enough, the voice in her mind turned cruel. The oxygen supply was abruptly cut off, leaving her gasping for breath. She tore off the useless mask. Why would this person go through the trouble of resurrecting her, only to kill her again?

It didn’t matter. She had to get out, get air, get free. In the absence of a lock, she reached out, using the Force to strike the container around her, again and again, until the tank began to crack and leak.

The cracks grew bigger, more water spurting out in little streams, until it finally shattered. Out she tumbled in a gush of liquid and shards of glass.

Her body hit the floor in an ungraceful heap, gravity catching up with unused muscles. She couldn’t move, but at least now she could draw breath. Coughing and sputtering as her lungs emptied, she tried to open her eyes. Everything was a too-bright blur.

Shade of Decay​

 

[Shade of Decay]

The synthetic fluid spilled around Ishani as she landed, slowly trickling away to drains along the floor as she reacquainted herself with waking, living reality. A droid quickly rushed up, tossing some sort of cover over her while she lay blinking in the light. Other than that brief bit of security and warmth, however, there was nothing appreciative, approving, or comforting to be felt around her. Just the cold weight of her 'saviour's' focus.

So you do have some concept of self-preservation. Some instinct, however meager, towards ensuring the continuation of your life.

Though she had done as bidden, fighting to free herself from the cloning cylinder that could easily have become her second grave, the voice still sounded unconvinced as to how genuine that urge to breathe really was. In the face of what had previous occurred with her, he had trouble trusting that she would bother to preserve this second life, without some sort of encouragement. Evidently her children, and her lover, weren't enough.

No matter.

Stand, Ishani. I did not have your body made so weak that you should be left grovelling on the floor like some abandoned infant.

Something on her back itched uncomfortably, though she couldn't easily feel at it. Not yet. Whatever it was, the commanding tones forcing themselves into her mind only made it worse.

Stand before me and tell me what this foolish spirit is of yours, that has made you take leave of your senses in so spectacular a manner as you have recently.

Ishani Dinn

 

[Ishani Dinn]

Ishani, still coughing up fluid, managed a hoarse, “Wha—?”

Her body… this being had made her body. And something was wrong with it, or at least different, though she couldn’t pinpoint what it was yet apart from the itching…

A cloth covering was tossed over her for the sake of modesty. She clung to it, pulling it tighter around her. I just need a minute to recover—

But she knew not even a moment would be given to her. This thing had already tried to kill her. It wasn’t going to be patient while she caught her breath and gathered her wits.

So she braced herself against the floor and staggered to her feet. Her knees knocked together, threatening to buckle. Holding the covering around her with one hand, she reached out with the other, fumbling for something that would offer support. Her fingers found a metal table and gripped the edge of it.

Stand before me and tell me what this foolish spirit is of yours, that has made you take leave of your senses in so spectacular a manner as you have recently.

“I…” Trying to speak triggered another cough. “I-I was… trying to help. On Tython. Already there for Je’daii artifacts… explored a tomb… when the attack started, I tried to leave, but—but it wasn’t right.” Her voice was gradually growing stronger. “They were trying to destroy the planet and alter reality. I wanted to stop it. Solipsis’ ritual was powered by the souls of the dead and the dying on the battlefield. I absorbed their life energies before they could fuel the ritual. But I was distracted, and… there was a bomb.”

For all that her intentions had been good, she had used the Dark Side to accomplish her goals. Or tried to… she was so rusty when it came to the Dark, it had overwhelmed her rapidly, claiming all of her focus. In the end, her inability to commit to a philosophy of the Force had ended her life.

Shade of Decay​

 

[Shade of Decay]

You were weak. Weak, and foolish.

Her explanation of why she had fought on Tython was dismissed without any regard. The abomination was why he had been at Tython, and so many others besides, but it did not excuse the mistake she had made in being there. In fighting there. In dying there, and putting so much else at risk, threatening to ruin the small sense of stability he was trying to create so that his apprenice might be able to learn and grow in a more effective manner than he'd spent the years previous wasting.

You went to Tython because you, barely more than an apprentice, thought you had the strength and capability to make a difference in what was happening there, when all you really did was threaten those you should be focusing on. What of your other conversational partner as of late? So brazenly revealing Lord Marcion's ascension to his former overseer, and challenging his power without any steps taken to keep yourself protected?

A sin that was, perhaps, even greater than her dying on Tython. Revealing information she should not have been informed of in the first place, to someone she had no business, in his mind, to go speaking with. Risking far more than she realized, without gaining any profit from it. Such arrogance and ignorance were infuriating to him.

But his rage remained cold, even as the itching in Ishani's back grew stronger. Painful, almost.

I thought you cared for him, and your children, but it seems you wish far more the opportunity to be free enough to make the poorest choices you can. That, Ishani, I cannot allow. But, if only for Marcion's sake and nothing else, I am willing to help you attain the power to protect yourself, and them, while you flit and flutter about the galaxy.

It was no longer an itch; by now, it had become a white-hot pain, something pulsing, pushing, straining for release just between her shoulder blades.

I am a fan of encouraging growth, after all...and if you show that you can, indeed, grow, who am I to stop you from spreading your wings?

With a spray of blood, two new limbs erupted from her back as the voice in her mind turned to mocking, self-satisfied laughter.

Ishani Dinn

 

[Ishani Dinn]

Her answer wasn't enough for the disembodied voice. But amid his storm of verbal abuse, he did give away one clue.

Lord Marcion. He knew Arc's Sith name. Was this Tsissaar Tiral, his new master?

The rest of what he said only seemed to confirm it, as well as proving that he'd been watching Ishani for some time. He knew about her encounter with Maliphant. He knew about the kids. He knew that she had died, and he'd gone through the trouble of rebuilding her for Arc's sake. To protect his investment.

"Maliphant summoned me with a ridiculous offer," she snapped, the intensifying itch along her spine making her irritable. "I thought he would be proud of his so-called son achieving knighthood, and I wanted… to make sure he had burned Arcturus' bill of sale!"

She grit her teeth. The itching had become painful, and Tsissaar's words were more cutting. She had always lamented not being able to be a family. To have herself, Arc and the twins all together and settled down, growing up, growing old…

"Oh, great!" she sneered. "Another mysterious offer from one of my boyfriend's masters! Will you require me to join your upstart faction as payment too?—"

I am a fan of encouraging growth, after all...and if you show that you can, indeed, grow, who am I to stop you from spreading your wings?

Ishani's eyes widened as she felt her flesh tearing open. Her roughened throat contracted, but she couldn't get enough breath in her lungs to force a noise.

"Soar, Ishani. The Galaxy will be all the better for it."

Wings unfurled from her back, enormous and hideous and batlike. They tore aside the covering, leaving her all but naked. A spiderweb of searing pain erupted across either wing as each new nerve awoke and cried out, forcing her to her knees.

She did scream then, a raw shriek of agony and horror. Warm blood ran down her sides, trickling like a lover's fingers between her ribs. Ishani had experienced many types of suffering in her life, from being burned by acid to giving birth to twins—but nothing like this. She cursed her laughing tormentor, calling him every foul name she knew, vowing to kill him, his family, and his dog if he had one. Her speech devolved and faded into silence as she sagged beneath the weight of her new wings.

"Arcturus..." She wanted him. She wanted her children. She just wanted to go home…

Shade of Decay​