Broken remains of houses littered the clearing. Streets dirty and worn, tattered rags of various forms waving in the slight breeze. The fires had all gone out long ago, the people crumbled to dust. There was no reason to dig a grave yard, the village was the grave yard. Even the life that tried, in the forms of vines and weeds withered and died. Param couldn’t tell him the sight of the village as she was taken so many years before was worse, or if this was.
At first her silver eyes looked from under her long silver hair at the charred remains, and felt nothing. Then slowly the memories of who had lived where came with each shift of her gaze. Dele and Inel had lived there, and Kelne here. They were all friends, all family. That was until they became slaves. Then they were just kids trying to survive.
Tears fought at the corner of her eyes as she sauntered through the village. It was a testament to what the Sith had taken from her, forced upon her; yet here she stood again, one of them now. At the center of the village she stopped in front of a house that had once stood tall and proud, but now was crumbled mess on the foundation. It had been her home.
The dam burst, and Param fell to her hands and knees, choking out a sob. Her only hope of being normal, her only hope of being a child, taken in a single day. She had stolen those holocrons from her slaver’s library to grow stronger, to break the chains that bound her. Though she succeeded, she found she still couldn’t be normal.
“Some nerve you’ve got,” a voice said from behind her. Param spun around, hand on her lightsaber hilt, tears streaking down her flushed cheeks. She was met with a line of spear wielding echani, weapons pointed directly at her. “You spit on the graves of the people that lived here with your presence, Sith.”
“I-“ Param froze. She was wearing black, had a lightsaber hilt on her belt, she certainly looked like a Sith didn’t she? “I used to live here.” Her voice was a squeak. Her mind raced for ideas, her heart pleading not to be the Sith that they hated. She’d lost her home, and was about to lose her people too.
“Hold!” It was a woman’s voice. Param didn’t recognize it, looking around. An older echani woman parted the line of spears, a curved echani sword on her hip. “Sith don’t cry like adolescent children, especially not over the graves of who they slaughter.” Param was frozen in place, barely able to breath.
“What do you want us to do with her?” the center spearman asked the woman.
“Bring her to the temple. I’ll get to the bottom of her visit,” the woman sneered. She turned and walked about through the wall of spears. A wall of spears that enclosed on Param. Grabbed, disarmed, and lifted, Param found herself tied to a spear between two men getting carried on their shoulders like they were bringing home a hunt. She had a feeling if she used the Force to get out of the restraints, she’d be run through by the four other spears.
The temple was a simple complex surrounded by a village. Ornate fences lined the courtyard, separating the every day living area of the village from the lush garden surrounding the temple. Param watched as various plants and flowers passed, and couldn’t help thinking of how gorgeous they were. At least if she was going to die, to pay for her sins of betraying her people, the last thing she’d see was flowers.
She was brought into a large open area in the center of the temple, tossed on the floor and untied from the spear. The spearmen dispersed among the shadows of the outer walls. Only the older woman stood before her, gently placing the sword and scabbard at her hip on a mount. A gentle hum above them filled the air.
“Don’t try to use the Force, Sith. This temple has a Force dampener,” the woman said, turning to Param with a cold stare. “You’re nothing but a misguided echani girl in these halls.” Param looked at her hands. She tried to call the Force, to prove the woman wrong, but it was for not.
“So what now?” Param asked quietly. Her voice was strained from the sobbing earlier. It was the best she could do to feign that her heart was trying to beat its way out of her chest.
“Now, we fight, and I learn why you’re here.”
“I lived in that village, that’s wh-“
“And now you’re a Sith crying over the past. The village isn’t why you’re here, girl,” the woman spat. She shed the light chainmail she wore, revealing simple grey robes underneath. With a step toward Param, the old woman dropped into an unarmed fighting stance. “Come.”
Param wanted to refuse, wanted to protest. Why did they have to fight? Why did she have to betray her people? Assets and liabilities. Her Sith Master’s words echoed in her head. She’d become a liability to her people; a pariah not even worth leaving alone in their own agony.
The stance Param adopted had only slightly changed from when she was five. It was the stance her parents had taught her, the same stance all her friends had used. Even so, Param had spent a long time fighting, she was confident she could beat an old woman.
Confidence misplaced, it seemed. They closed with each other, and Param didn’t have a chance to act or react. The woman had put Param on her own ass with a flurry of blows that took away the wind in her lungs. Even using surprise when Param got to her feet didn’t work, ending in Param getting thrown across the matted floor.
Tears stung her eyes, an almost unnoticeable pain under the bruising and battering her body was taking. What was the point of this? She didn’t want to fight! Why did everything force her to be like all the the Sith? Power hungry, ruthless, filled with a lust of blood for no reason beyond it being fun to them? The holocrons teaching her to use her hatred and anger came to mind, then her disappointment at the lack of strength she gained on Bandomeer, and then there was Kodi.
All she wanted was that damn holocron. His smooth charms and wily antics had beaten her at her own game, and in the process taught her more in one night about what the galaxy had to offer and about real fun than anyone had for eighteen years. Yet every time she was with him, something forced her hand to be the Sith she never chose to be.
With a scream, Param charged the woman. Tears blurred her vision and warmed her cheeks, but she didn’t need to see. She flailed, connecting here, glancing blow there. A fury that she couldn’t stop. If she stopped she’d die; there had to be more to it than just power games and self preservation… right?
A single chop to her neck dropped Param. She sobbed into the floor, trying to give fistfulls of the mat to pull herself back up. The woman stepped back, putting her hands behind her back. The cold, scathing stare from before was replaced with an expression Param hadn’t quite seen before. Not for real, at least. Was it compassion? Empathy? Sympathy?
“That’s enough; you fight like a child,” the woman said. Param could only shake with anger and cry from the floor. “I’ve seen enough to know you’re harmless.” The woman looked up for a moment at someone behind Param and nodded. A moment later Param was covered in bacta patches and having her battered and bloody body dabbed with towels and gauze.
“You are lost, child. That’s why you’ve come. Everyone tells you what to be, and it is never yourself. You yearn for a normal life that you were never afforded,” the woman explained. Param was so far beyond angry she had turned to crying mess of a ball. “But you’re echani, child, and we are far from normal. Stay, and we will teach you how to be you.”
At first her silver eyes looked from under her long silver hair at the charred remains, and felt nothing. Then slowly the memories of who had lived where came with each shift of her gaze. Dele and Inel had lived there, and Kelne here. They were all friends, all family. That was until they became slaves. Then they were just kids trying to survive.
Tears fought at the corner of her eyes as she sauntered through the village. It was a testament to what the Sith had taken from her, forced upon her; yet here she stood again, one of them now. At the center of the village she stopped in front of a house that had once stood tall and proud, but now was crumbled mess on the foundation. It had been her home.
The dam burst, and Param fell to her hands and knees, choking out a sob. Her only hope of being normal, her only hope of being a child, taken in a single day. She had stolen those holocrons from her slaver’s library to grow stronger, to break the chains that bound her. Though she succeeded, she found she still couldn’t be normal.
“Some nerve you’ve got,” a voice said from behind her. Param spun around, hand on her lightsaber hilt, tears streaking down her flushed cheeks. She was met with a line of spear wielding echani, weapons pointed directly at her. “You spit on the graves of the people that lived here with your presence, Sith.”
“I-“ Param froze. She was wearing black, had a lightsaber hilt on her belt, she certainly looked like a Sith didn’t she? “I used to live here.” Her voice was a squeak. Her mind raced for ideas, her heart pleading not to be the Sith that they hated. She’d lost her home, and was about to lose her people too.
“Hold!” It was a woman’s voice. Param didn’t recognize it, looking around. An older echani woman parted the line of spears, a curved echani sword on her hip. “Sith don’t cry like adolescent children, especially not over the graves of who they slaughter.” Param was frozen in place, barely able to breath.
“What do you want us to do with her?” the center spearman asked the woman.
“Bring her to the temple. I’ll get to the bottom of her visit,” the woman sneered. She turned and walked about through the wall of spears. A wall of spears that enclosed on Param. Grabbed, disarmed, and lifted, Param found herself tied to a spear between two men getting carried on their shoulders like they were bringing home a hunt. She had a feeling if she used the Force to get out of the restraints, she’d be run through by the four other spears.
The temple was a simple complex surrounded by a village. Ornate fences lined the courtyard, separating the every day living area of the village from the lush garden surrounding the temple. Param watched as various plants and flowers passed, and couldn’t help thinking of how gorgeous they were. At least if she was going to die, to pay for her sins of betraying her people, the last thing she’d see was flowers.
She was brought into a large open area in the center of the temple, tossed on the floor and untied from the spear. The spearmen dispersed among the shadows of the outer walls. Only the older woman stood before her, gently placing the sword and scabbard at her hip on a mount. A gentle hum above them filled the air.
“Don’t try to use the Force, Sith. This temple has a Force dampener,” the woman said, turning to Param with a cold stare. “You’re nothing but a misguided echani girl in these halls.” Param looked at her hands. She tried to call the Force, to prove the woman wrong, but it was for not.
“So what now?” Param asked quietly. Her voice was strained from the sobbing earlier. It was the best she could do to feign that her heart was trying to beat its way out of her chest.
“Now, we fight, and I learn why you’re here.”
“I lived in that village, that’s wh-“
“And now you’re a Sith crying over the past. The village isn’t why you’re here, girl,” the woman spat. She shed the light chainmail she wore, revealing simple grey robes underneath. With a step toward Param, the old woman dropped into an unarmed fighting stance. “Come.”
Param wanted to refuse, wanted to protest. Why did they have to fight? Why did she have to betray her people? Assets and liabilities. Her Sith Master’s words echoed in her head. She’d become a liability to her people; a pariah not even worth leaving alone in their own agony.
The stance Param adopted had only slightly changed from when she was five. It was the stance her parents had taught her, the same stance all her friends had used. Even so, Param had spent a long time fighting, she was confident she could beat an old woman.
Confidence misplaced, it seemed. They closed with each other, and Param didn’t have a chance to act or react. The woman had put Param on her own ass with a flurry of blows that took away the wind in her lungs. Even using surprise when Param got to her feet didn’t work, ending in Param getting thrown across the matted floor.
Tears stung her eyes, an almost unnoticeable pain under the bruising and battering her body was taking. What was the point of this? She didn’t want to fight! Why did everything force her to be like all the the Sith? Power hungry, ruthless, filled with a lust of blood for no reason beyond it being fun to them? The holocrons teaching her to use her hatred and anger came to mind, then her disappointment at the lack of strength she gained on Bandomeer, and then there was Kodi.
All she wanted was that damn holocron. His smooth charms and wily antics had beaten her at her own game, and in the process taught her more in one night about what the galaxy had to offer and about real fun than anyone had for eighteen years. Yet every time she was with him, something forced her hand to be the Sith she never chose to be.
With a scream, Param charged the woman. Tears blurred her vision and warmed her cheeks, but she didn’t need to see. She flailed, connecting here, glancing blow there. A fury that she couldn’t stop. If she stopped she’d die; there had to be more to it than just power games and self preservation… right?
A single chop to her neck dropped Param. She sobbed into the floor, trying to give fistfulls of the mat to pull herself back up. The woman stepped back, putting her hands behind her back. The cold, scathing stare from before was replaced with an expression Param hadn’t quite seen before. Not for real, at least. Was it compassion? Empathy? Sympathy?
“That’s enough; you fight like a child,” the woman said. Param could only shake with anger and cry from the floor. “I’ve seen enough to know you’re harmless.” The woman looked up for a moment at someone behind Param and nodded. A moment later Param was covered in bacta patches and having her battered and bloody body dabbed with towels and gauze.
“You are lost, child. That’s why you’ve come. Everyone tells you what to be, and it is never yourself. You yearn for a normal life that you were never afforded,” the woman explained. Param was so far beyond angry she had turned to crying mess of a ball. “But you’re echani, child, and we are far from normal. Stay, and we will teach you how to be you.”