Chapter Text
Chapter One
“What extraordinary beings we are. Even in the revelation of our triumph, you see the depth of our despair.”
─────⋅✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ ☾. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧ ⋅─────
Her breath is steady; dedicated and focused. She recalls her mother's teachings. Sometimes, if you listen to the Thread closely enough, it will tell you exactly what you need to hear, no matter how painful or true. Beneath the twin moons of Brendok, she can sense the unsettling presence of something familiar. The company lurks beneath the canopy and within the density of the pine. She can feel their searching eyes. They move soundlessly, yet uncertain.
Osha…
The whisper, despite its softness, splits the air and the earth beneath her. A chasm widens, swallowing her whole. And before she can even realize what is happening, she has descended into darkness.
Osha jolts awake in a cold sweat. The basic undergarments of her civilian uniform are still damp, reminding her of the midnight humidity trapped within the dense forests of Khofar. They cling to her aching muscles and weary bones. A single source of warmth garners her attention. Wrapped gingerly and deliberately across her body is a black cape. She quickly sits up but is immediately humbled by a sharp throb in her side. She lifts the makeshift blanket to reveal a scar, already closed and on its way to healing. Her eyes narrow as she surveys the surrounding area.
The starship is set on course—a gentle glide through hyperspace that coats the bridge in a cerulean blue. Beneath the hushed beeps and dings of the system’s autopilot is the distant sound of running water. Osha follows the noise, noting an envelope of steam escaping a cracked door that leads to what must be a quaint sleeping quarter. The steam fills the ship with bergamot and hinoki. She leans into the scent more but winces, rubbing a cramp out of her neck.
It all comes back to her now.
So quickly, the mission had fallen apart into tragedy. In all the years she trained beneath him, Osha had never seen Sol so angry and disconnected. The deaths of the others—the cruel killings of Yord and Jecki—her master had slipped into disillusionment, abandoning the Jedi ideology almost too quickly to seek immediate vengeance, or better yet, immediate relief.
Yord was one of her closest friends at the academy, a friendship for which she had yearned for so long on Brendok, where the loneliness of a coven’s fortress entrapped her adolescent years. And Jecki, oh Jecki… so full of light and potential. She had been Sol’s Padawan, just as Osha once before her. And she knew just how protective Master Sol could be—how dangerously attached he could become.
How long had it been since the fight? Where was Sol? How did she get on this ship? Was she carried here? Dragged?
Solemnly, Osha attempts to search the Force for answers but is met with nothing. Just stillness. Silence. This isn't a Jedi ship, she knows that for damn sure. And she is no longer adorning the civilian uniform she had arrived on Khofar in. The last moment she can recall is her sister’s embrace... and then that of a quick, but mighty shove into the rocks.
A shower handle squealing snaps her out of it. She can hear movement from within the quarters. It's indistinguishable, and that makes it dangerous.
Quickly, she searches for a weapon. Anything can be of use—anything at all. But the ship is mostly bare beyond a few necessities. Beneath the cot is a toolbox, similar to the ones she had used on her meknek jobs. It had been a dependable life that now seems so distant from the one she is living now. She grabs anything heavy that can hit with a blunt force and tucks it beneath the cape, hidden from sight.
The door to the quarters opens wider. A broad shape of a man's body fills the entryway, steam rising off his silhouette like a starship's engine upon landing.
“Oh, good. You’re awake.” The familiar voice fills the room, encircling her. It is deep and velvety. Just as suddenly, something in the air between them stirs. It's small, but enough for even Osha to sense. Alongside his eyes falling, his voice drops even deeper. "You won't need that." He sounds annoyed, almost hurt. And it disturbs Osha how seamlessly he can switch between the two.
“N-Need what?” Osha stutters.
Impatiently, he lifts his hand, and consequently, the tool beside her hip reveals itself from beneath the cape. Osha watches helplessly as it flies through the air, across the ship, and directly into the palm of his hand. He turns it over, shaking his head. Osha sits in shell shock, releasing a shaky exhale. She is now without a weapon. If she is going to get off this ship, and away from him, she will need to rely on just her sheer grit and combat.
He raises his eyes back to her, knowingly. He even looks a bit amused. "There’s no need to be scared. I have no desire to hurt you.”
“Am I a prisoner?” Osha asks.
“No. You’re my guest,” he responds assuredly.
"Where am I?"
“You’re on the Exile II. It was your sister’s ship.”
“My sister—”
He interrupts, “Gone. She left with the Jedi." A silence stirs, a twinge of betrayal shared between the both of them. And then he adds, "Well... what remained of them."
“I need to warn Sol.”
He takes a couple of steps forward. His eyes search over her body, scanning each part of her. His voice lowers. It bellows even deeper, as if it were even possible. “Still so loyal…” He says it with a hint of admiration, as the flickers of hyperspace bounce off his dark eyes.
On edge by his sudden closeness, Osha inhales sharply. She ignores the stabbing pain in her side once more. Deep in the throbbing muscle beneath a healed scar; the remnants of a cauterized wound she realizes, only now, that he had been the one to heal. Despite all her years as Sol’s pupil on Coruscant, she had no idea that was possible. She briefly allows herself to wonder if it would work on the dead.
“Yes.” He says. “It can.”
She quickly pushes the thought away.
When he’s this close, she can really take him in. He looks different in this manner, without the dauntness of that helmet. His body is broad; hugged by a black tunic. His skin is fresh and clean, droplets of water collecting around the scaffolding of his bare arms. And his hair, once haphazard and greasy, is now drenched and slicked back, tucked behind his ears. This is the most she has seen his face. He looks younger. Less terrifying, and oddly intriguing. She briefly thinks back to their first meeting, in the apothecary, when he saw right through her. "You look... exactly like her."
But she knows what he’s capable of—cruelty without pity or sentimentality. Nor Yord nor Jecki deserved that death, such an unceremonious ascension to the Force.
Osha finds the courage to meet his eyes. They are dark and untelling. She’s traveled through the depths of space, to the outskirts of civilization on Trade Federation ships. But not once, ever, has she seen darkness like this before. He rivals the vastness of deep space—an enigma—a mystery she only wishes to understand. She feels warmth pool in the depths of her belly and suddenly becomes aware of just how long she’s been searching his eyes. She grows deeply embarrassed and then feels nothing but guilt.
The shriek of a tea kettle steals his attention. And only as he walks away to tend to it, does she realize that he had allowed her to examine him for that long. Osha glances away, pushing her chin into her shoulder to conceal rosy cheeks beneath auburn-brown locs.
Across the way, he removes the kettle from its flame on a small nanowave stove. Covered by his width, she watches his back as he moves about the small kitchenette, sifting through storage units in search of dishes and utensils. And when he returns, she's unsure how to respond to the uncanny attempt at kindness.
“For you,” his arm is outstretched, offering a small cup of hot tea. Steam rises from the surface, filling the air between them with floral notes. “From a Cassius Tree. It will soothe your pain.”
She eyes the liquid, distrusting. A solemn reminder of Master Torbin.
“Osha,” his voice is soft—understanding. “I meant what I said.”
Apprehensively, she takes the cup and settles back into the cot. She inhales the steam, letting its warmth provide somewhat a relief to the reminders of battle—of the loss of her friends.
“They knew what would happen.”
Her eyes tick up. “Get out of my head.”
He smiles softly, but it's more of a taunt than a sincerity. “It’s a storm in there.” Gently, he taps her forehead with a single finger. It sends a crescendo of shivers down her spine. She shifts, scooting further away on the cot. Only after the silence has painfully grown between them, does he take a step back. “I can help you settle it. Quiet the noise. The nightmares.”
Osha's eyes dart to his. How did he—? But she shuts the thought down quickly, knowing there's company in the confines of her mind.
His eyes leave hers, trailing over her body once more. “With my help, you’d be unstoppable.”
“You don’t know me,” she exasperates. She means it. “I couldn’t even be a Jedi.”
“Jedi. Sith. Knights. Witches,” he slurs through the words, letting each one have a movement in the air between them. “It’s all just different ideas, describing the same thing.”
Osha raises her eyebrow at him. “Which is?”
“Power,” he’s whispering now. It comes across as gentle and sincere, but she's unsure if she can trust it.
Before Osha can muster a response, the ship’s console beeps excitedly and the starship rattles out of hyperspace. The cockpit is bright now, reflecting the vast blue ocean of the forthcoming planet.
Osha blinks, letting her eyes adjust. “Where are we going?” she asks.
He settles into the pilot’s chair, flicking a few switches and taking manual control of the ship. He pushes the steering forward, descending into the planet’s atmosphere.
“Qimir,” she says his name, desperate.
“Somewhere safe,” he responds. Sensing the depth of her distrust, he glances back at her. After taking her in, he nods toward the door he had appeared from. “Go clean yourself up. Your sister left some clothes.”
In the privacy of her sister’s old sleeping quarters, Osha finally catches her breath. She inhales and exhales. And then does it again. With each deep breath, she calms the anxiety that is climbing up her body—shooting off every nerve—warning her like stalked prey. She sips the warm Cassius tea, and sure enough, it immediately soothes her pain—and the betterment of her judgment.