Still breathing heavily the Twi’lek could barely take his eyes off the blood red crystal. He could feel the power emanating from it’s bright depths and the gleaming energy felt like it was flowing through him. Connecting to him. It was… strange.
The words of the Dark Lord came to him as if from across a great chasm and it was a lingering moment before his gaze snapped up to meet hers. What had she said?
“Free?” he repeated a little absently before continuing a little more clearly. “Do I feel free?”
He paused for a moment to consider, looking into himself, as he pondered if that was the case. He looked free on the outside, for the most part, he believed that was true so long as he remembered to keep himself from slouching and averting his gaze. But the truth was even with Tarsus dead he could feel the bastards clammy hands around his neck. The chains weighing down his limbs.
“No. Not free but...” he glanced down at the crystal. “I feel… more. Like I have become more through this act. But not free.”
He frowned deeply, still looking at the glowing piece of kyber. “We are taught that strengths gives power, power gives victory and victory will free us. I have not strength so I can not claim power. I have no power so I can not yet see what I must defeat to gain victory.”
Looking up at Darth Malicia he continued. “It’s as if I’m in a deep chasm. It's too far down to see the light and without the light I can’t see the exit, without being able to see it how can I conjure up how to climb out.” he stated slowly as he tried to dredge up her words to explain what he meant. “I don’t know if that was a… coherent explanation.”
The truth was that he had lived every moment of his life since the day Tarsus purchased him as a slave up until the moment he slaughtered the man. Even when he had been trained to be a deadly warrior he was still but a slave, a tool, to be used as the bastard had wanted. The truth was he didn’t know how to free himself from the programming as the Dark Lord called it.
