Emryc had broken away from the group, lost inside his own thoughts. He questioned everything. He questioned whether his thoughts were his own. He questioned whether his devotion was good enough for his gods. He wondered if they could sense his weakness through the Force. The Grandmaster’s infiltration into his mind had undone so much, had struck a blow that left him reeling and questioning himself.
He had maintained his composure as he left the temple through a side passage, not looking back or joining the others. His purposeful and measured steps took him past the courtyard where they got more sluggish. He hunched over, blood dripping down to the grass below. He didn’t feel powerful enough to wear the mask, releasing a shuddered breath as trembling fingers came up to slip it off.
There was nothing but a serene silence here save for his labored breaths. The sickness loomed within him, though he fought against it. The holocron weighed heavily on him, taxing him even now with its pure energy. It wanted to reject him and his very existence.
His clothing stuck to his body from where his back was steeped in blood. Emryc didn’t have purpose in where he was going and no sense of direction. He felt the raw agony in his mind, bleeding out from where a knife had been plunged.
“Find the one thing you were denied all your life,” The Jedi’s insufferable words echoed in his mind.
Emryc dropped to his knees, looking down at the grass. His fingers curled into the dirt, rage whirling within him.