Allies: TSE
Enemies: GA,
Takui
Location: Ziost
"Perhaps I can't understand your shame," Lark began, as the lost Jedi dealt with the trails of lightning the Sith had conjured. Together, the two of them created something truly spectacular. A place that could birth chaos, bring forth the most primordial, destructive forces the galaxy had ever seen. Takui's failures and Lark's desperate search for salvation created a crucible of ravenous avarice, and there was nothing that could stop either of them from seeking their goals.
"But I thank you for putting it on display for me. The greatest shame of all is that you've chosen of single-minded destruction. I feel no pity for you. You've seen the truth, and this is the path you've chosen. The galaxy will feel our wrath for eternity, long after we're both ash."
"Though I've survived infernos equal to this."
The cradle of fire on Myrkr. The swaddle of flames covering his naked body, scarring it into pink splotches that still dotted his skin like freckles. He had been reborn that night, amidst a tempest of fire and soot. The boy he once had been nearly died, retreating deeper and deeper into the depths of his mind. So too had the monster hidden, and as they both found their own piece of land to carve out in his soul, Lark made himself a home as well. Now, as the box continued to spew forth its darkness, Lark found that it drew the passion of all three of those pieces of his soul forward. The boys desire to protect his family. The monster's desire to see life eradicated. And Lark's desire to find the meaning of peace. It all seemed to coalesce. It didn't seem possible for such contrasting ideals to coexist. And yet,
the box made it possible, somehow. The answer, his brother whispered, voice emanating from the box, was shockingly simple.
You will slaughter everyone to see your family together once more. Only then will you find the tranquility you seek.
His brother's voice was replaced after that, and from the box instead came a melancholy song. A woman's soft hum accompanied serene a serene chime of piano keys. The rhythm, despite sounding bittersweet, was seemingly full of hope as well. It was all Lark had ever wanted to hear. He had no doubt his sister was the composer for such a beautiful song. It was all he had ever wanted to hear. His dear sister was constructing a melody for their perfect dance. Finally, all his siblings were together as one. The box made it so.
Takui screamed, and as that baneful howl shook the sky, Lark felt invisible threads tighten around his neck. The foundations of the building somehow held together, and the Sith's feet left the ground as he was lifted higher into the air he could not breath. His muscles strained, his veins popped out of his skin as the little oxygen he had left his body. If he had the ability, he would have laughed. It was all so
beautiful. This was the scene the monster had been been searching for ever since that fire on Myrkr. The scenery of doomsday. An event so cataclysmic that it might bring an entire world to its knees.
But we need to save the lost, Lark and the boy thought.
The lost are your brother and sister. Who aren't actually here. The box grants us strength. This frozen speck of dust isn't even a price to pay. So why not let it all burn away, if it will give us the power to save them? The monster's arguments appealed to them both, though only one of the other two seemed to be at all swayed.
Lark was the conduit for their thoughts, the intermediary for the two extremes. But he too had his own wishes, dreams that
he alone wanted. And his will was all that mattered. Though the box had enhanced all of their desires,
Lark still controlled the boy and the monster. He had been born from the flames. Not them. So he was the one most qualified to seek out his passions.
His vision was shrouded by black tendrils, though these were not caused by the box. No, within a few more moments his body would succumb to Takui's rage, and the last gasps of breath he had would leave his body in pitiful puffs. But he still heard his sister playing the piano for him. Though her spectral flame was gone, the box still made her influence known. Lark turned his head, which was now purple and grey as his neck continued to tighten. The box was special. If he were to die, at least his sister had played his a mournful farewell.
No, Lark thought. He brought his knees to his chest, curling himself up into a frail, scrawny ball. He focused on the keys of the piano, letting the pensive heartbeats of his sister fuel his mind. A stream of the Force surrounded him, pieces of shattered rubble and flickers of the dark flame surrounded him. And in a heartbeat of pure heartache and desperation, Lark unleashed it all. The pure agonies all of his personas suffered, a storm of violence and peace, love and hate, the passions of three separate entities merged into one tempest of energy. All of those inflammatory feelings, nourished by the box. Together, Lark and Takui's desires would consume Ziost.
Reality would soon be so warped not even a memory of this glacier would remain.