How long has it been…
A vacant and empty place, beautiful. But as with any diverse ecosystem there are those elements that are meant to warn, poison when eaten, defensive with thorns if confronted. These signals had failed.
A secret task to uncover yet another one of the Force’s ‘gifts’. Yet all that was found was a cage.
A hungry cage.
The history of it was written in the very runes, a frantic genius mess of fear and invention. One could see the moments where agony caused their hand to stray as they wove the trap into position, into being. Likely on the run, likely in hiding. There would be no doubt whether devoted or not, this place was torn with the grief and wound of the Dark Side.
Likely for a foe in pursuit, perhaps one who perished before ever reaching it, perhaps bypassing it and slaying the creator entire. The truth is not written here.
Formed in geometry the walls give the impression of space, but there is only one central chamber. Unseen the weights form around the wrist, the waist, the neck, and the ankle. The illusion of starlight, of plants having taken root in this stagnant trap. I know not whether they were formed to cope with the predicament, or if it is some cruel attempt by the Force to grant hope.
Each of the tethers binds to one of the various crystal formations in the room, all shattered. I cannot see them, but pulling too far to attempt a climb of the geometric stones and rises results in a sudden crush of strength, threatening to darken the eyes forever. The only warning given, albeit far too late.
While the other binds form the weight, the one that holds the neck lingers hauntingly in the center, dancing aimlessly in ignorance of gravitational purpose, pattern, or configuration. But it is neither the positioning of the tether nor the chaos of the shattered apparent gemstone that gnaws on the senses.
The central pieces start to pulse and throb with a hungering light, slow at first, stretching into hours. At times I can look away, but most times I can only count the sight of this change in the environment around me. All the other details of this chamber are small meaningless shifts that ultimately do not grow, do not change, save for this pylon.
What comes as the pulses steady into a haunting continual glow draws me back to the moment my master first tested me. A lash of energy, a crush of pressure, the blood slowing only with that show of force, released and racing again thereafter as the grip lifts. Sucking on the air as one does before being dragged down to ravenous and unrelenting depths, that cold clawing at the bottom of your lungs as you attempt to see the surface you were plucked from. The terror of life fleeing from you as you sink deeper, as the breath burns and becomes harder to keep hold of. Lips straining to keep each bubble from erupting, escaping…
I know that something is taken from me with each strike on my psyche, draining my body, weakening the senses. Time becomes meaningless, only this pattern of the wakening crystal holds any relevance. It can feel as though hours slip by between hits, when I am truly unlucky it strikes while my body craves rest.
In the endless stream of this process I consider at length those I knew. I wonder if they will still be alive, or even remembered if I’m able to emerge. As the pattern of suffering continues, an eventual numbness reclaims me, not remembering a time before the pain that comes in waves.
To cling to whatever sanity, even if it was invented, one must remember the faces. The voices, their touch, their embrace, the way their personalities clashed and ebbed. A war upon a war, a process deemed necessary and wasteful.
There were those faces I loved, those I would have died for in that conflict. Precious few in the end as such a high pressure and dependency seemed to grow. Yet here, it was meaningless. The structure had been stripped, who knows if they would survive, or more vainly so if those that did would remember or recognize her.
Moments of rage crept through the gaps, tears that burned rivers with the struggle of a tiring body. She went over each of their names one by one, unable to write, unable to mark, unable to do more than move in place and struggle when her mentality forgot, however briefly; her cage.
Every last name, every last voice, while the body slowly but surely withered away. No reflection to see herself, but the hairs had greyed around her vision. The skin pulled and dry until the veins dominated the landscape of her hands, spots of age and bruising that never fully healed grasping onto the valleys and peaks of her digits and arms.
Some saliva coated her lip as her spent and exhausted form lay strewn beside the base of her tormentor, the leech of life. Muttering at times aloud just to hear another sound than faux breezes or dull hums.
Solomon
Aiven
Nrrax
Rissa
Sohma
Skyva
Sarkell
Nex
Amara
Helvie
Alora
Teth
Katya
Andrala
Sezel
Aayla
Sildani
Calclif
Corbin
Kairos
Sara
The list proceeding short and swiftly, recalling and adding more to the list other times, doing what she could to claw at the threshold of a life before her time here. Always though ending, or perhaps muttering only one name over and over.
Valerius
The last word on her lips before slipping to weakness. Scared, but also so very, utterly tired.
“She’s been locked in this state for almost thirty minutes!”
“Her vitals aren’t looking good from here, but I can’t get any closer!”
Nervous aids, apprentice and trooper alike were struck and stuck with what appeared to be Lord Kathea Sinrae locked in some levitated state as her body was held rigid and energies seeped steadily from her chest into the deceptive holocron device, though it was in the shape of a diamond as opposed to their usual triangular formation.
The trandoshan Nrrax charged with keeping her safe was also struck by the helplessness of the situation. A snarl radiating from his reptilian maw, in times past perhaps he would’ve trusted her, but his senses, their experiences shared told him she was in danger. But with already one corpse of a cadet laying drained of all its vitality as a charred withered husk he had to wait for assistance. He would wait with claws ready when the breath came he could tear her from this thing.
Medical assistance was on standby, it was just a matter of time before someone of her strength could appear and get her away from it. Mercifully, both for the Trandoshan and those speaking by his sides in a frantic fashion knowing they were next if a solution didn’t present itself, a set of footsteps approached…
“Honor Guard.”
