NationStates Jolt Archive

Spring has this renown for being one of the most relaxing times of the year, contrasting the drabness and depressing nature of the previous season of winter so greatly. Its warm breezes waft across the growing fields of green and through the trees abloom with their wondrous displays of rebirth. The animals of the land emerge from their long slumber and begin to reassume their places in the natural world. Even people seem to take notice and spend more times in the comforting outdoors, partaking in their favorite activities such as boating, grilling, or just plain old relaxing. Everything around them is so vibrant and so full of life that one can never truly hide from its effects, not even Siri.

Sitting upon a cast-iron bench in the midst of a park along the boulevard that split the Grummian capital, the elf was entirely quiet, at peace with the world around her for once. Her eyes were closed, and a small smile had crept across her face. As she enjoyed the warmth of the sun overhead that seemed to add a certain glow to her soft tanned skin, the soothing spring breezes gently blew through her hair, her golden strands flowing about behind her. Every now and then a gust would burst out from the alleyways of the building next door and sweep the petals from a dogwood tree nearby, entangling the white blossoms in the elf’s hair. She seemed content, almost…happy. Not even the children playing amongst the swings nearby could distract her from this moment of bliss.

To the Force, this place was filled with life. So vibrant, so full of emotions. Nothing dark here besides the tiny thoughts that crept into the minds every so often, and even then there was still peace. The sun, shining and glowing the faces of the young. Warming the bodies of the old. Bringing life into the world, saving it from darkness. Such beauty could be found on plenty of planets, but this one was special. Not because of the beauty and peace, but because of what this planet was related to, and who all was there.

Drakomis gave a reptilian smile, the sun playing his scales in the purplish hue. He gazed down at the dormant and peaceful body of Siri O'Neill, quite pleased to find her here. He had been looking for Jack, a long time friend and brother to him. He wore the usual Jedi Master robe, content with its styling and grade of comfort to his aged body. His tail went one way, then the other, in a sign of thinking as he rubbed his scalp with his claws, scratching at an irritation from too much sunlight. He shrugged, and allowed himself to sit beside her at a respectful distance on the bench. He was quiet about it, not to disturb her, for he saw her contentment in the Force.

Over the years, Melkos had taught her much. He knew more than Drakomis about Siri's level of growth. At this point, as he gazed at her in silent contemplation, she seemed more in with the Lighter side of things. He had heard stories of darkness with her name on it, but only rumors to one so old, so trusting. He gave her a few more minutes to be at peace, making sure his tail was comfortable as he relaxed.

Then, a couple of minutes later, he turned to her. "Hello Siri," he said in welcome.

Siri had sensed his presence long before he had arrived to this very park much less the city, not by the use of her hidden guardians or the technological implants she had added to her body. No, she felt him, sensed him in her very soul. The Force had given her this ability, and was made even easier by the fact that few Grummians had ever been endowed with such a gift and even fewer were like this Jedi Master.

A creak of the bench accompanied him being seated, but the elf did nothing to acknowledge him. She was savoring this very moment in time, this peace that came oh so infrequently these days. It was not something she was ready to give up yet, certainly not. All the worries were gone, no stress, no anger, no anxiety, almost a paradise. But beyond this bliss she knew that it would come to an end soon and that had come quicker than she wanted.

The Komodren spoke her name, and Siri’s eyes opened immediately. A tinge of disappointment appeared just suddenly across her face then vanished. This was not the time for such thoughts and certainly not to drive an old friend away.

“Hello, Drakomis,” she replied with almost a whisper. “It’s been… too long, far too long I’m afraid, since I’ve last actually spoke with you. I wish we could have gotten that chance at the Christmas party, but…it didn’t happen. I apologize for not paying more attention to you then.”

She had not turned her attention upon him just yet and still stared forward, almost seemingly lost in thought. “How have you been?”

Drakomis sensed it, almost suddenly, as if it were a bus coming from no where, hitting him at ninety miles an hour. He didn't express it, and he hid his reaction and emotions well. But he sensed it, this darkness. It wasn't of Melkos, her adopted Father and Drakomis' long-time friend and Comrade. It wasn't anything he knew, but the Darkness that blinds the passion and serenity of life. He thought about it for a few precious seconds, perhaps considering that life hadn't been good to her. Perhaps, therefore, this darkness was from an emotion, and not an action. It was common, very common. He released his tension and revelation of the moment by sighing, as if responding to her comment and question.

"My dear, I have become a King to my people." He gazed at her, giving a soft chuckle, matching her tone of voice just a bit, just enough not to seem annoying as she sat in peace. "I would not have become king had I not forgiven anyone, and you are most forgiven, for I understood." He almost snorted, "Poor guy had a heart attack."

He gazed at her then, eyes having turned almost to the darkness, the same within her, that of bright gold and dark red. He blinked, and it was gone, and he demanded it gone. She was his friend, as was Jack whom he would hopefully find later on this day. For now, he would sit here, and be patient. His eyes turned to their normal reptilian bluish green.

"I take it you have been through much," he asked.

His words, while bearing some degree of truth to them, were an utter understatement to Siri. Such a phrase did not even come close to what she had felt she’d been through. She shut her eyes briefly and sighed, then opened them once more. And one word managed to leave her mouth.

“Yes.”

It was then that her eyes and the rest of her face seemed so tired, so weary, and so old; she had almost appeared to age before him. Gone was that blessed happiness that she had felt just moments earlier. Gone were the hopes that this was just a simple catching up on old times. But she knew that it wasn’t the case. She deluded herself into thinking that this conversation could be about anything but what she truly felt inside.

“Too much…too much has happened these past few years,” she replied, forcing herself to maintain a flat tone. “And it doesn’t seem to be ending any time soon, unfortunately. Heh, I guess such is life really…”

Drakomis noticed her changes, and listened to her words as she tried to maintain a tone of control over herself. He saw through it, of course, but didn't make note of it. He sighed, letting the Force go for now. It wasn't the time to be snooping around someones personal feelings anyway. He leaned back against the bench, and clasped his clawed hands together on his lap.

"You younglings fascinate me," Drakomis said as he closed his eyes in thinking. "I have lived for over four-thousand years, seen billions die before my eyes, seen horrors and beauty beyond imagination." He opened them, gazing at the sky. "I know how it feels," he gazed at her with a smile, "Trust me on that, young one."

He grinned somewhat, "But in all seriousness....seeing you like this does make me somewhat concerned." He nodded towards the sky, "How have you and Melkos been faring?"

Young.

Siri almost shook her head at that word, for it did not seem to fit how she felt. For the first time in her life, she felt old, incredibly old. The years had gone by so quickly. What was it…twenty…twenty-five years since she had first met Drakomis? The same amount of time since her son Alakantar was just a baby. Even her marriage to Jack seemed like it was just yesterday but it had been almost thirty years since that point and now he was a hundred eight years old. Too old really and so close to…

The question distracted her just enough to break her train of thought and sent her mind in another direction. “We keep in touch, or at least, try to,” she answered with a shrug. “It’s been a while since I’ve last actually seen him. That’s probably more my fault than anything. I’m just usually so occupied with everything that I can’t get some time to myself, I guess.”

Drakomis nodded, thinking now to times long past. In his eyes, it was a mere flash of time, yet he remembered almost everything. How, when they first met, Siri and Jack was so full of hope. How when he had somehow appeared on Jacks couch in that early morning, giving his friend a scare for life. How every time something happened back then, He had been there for Jack, had been beside Siri. How he was so happy to find Melkos being adopted as a Father, how Melkos, through Siri's help, had turned from pure hatred, to something of the likeness of a role model.

He sighed under his breath, quite happy to remember those times. He didn't know where the Dark Lord of the Sith was, no doubt watching Siri with intent. He loved her, dearly, as a father should love his child. Drakomis didn't know how the two interacted, but on his end he had seen the change. Through that change, he assumed Siri was for the better also. Now, however, he believed himself wrong. Perhaps something more had happened, something deeper. But he wouldn't probe.

"He loves you, you know." Drakomis continued to stare at the beautiful blue sky, the sun playing his scales a rainbowish purple now. "You changed him from a murderer to a leader, overnight." Drakomis smiled, "I can't fathom why that change hasn't come across on both ends."

Siri’s head lowered, her eyes turned their attention upon her delicate hands that, according to what she could see, had taken on an almost reddish tinge. She knew that it all had been her fault, the hundreds of thousands of souls taken, the destruction of so much the people held dear to them. Even her means by which she tried to resolve it all never made the weight she carried on her conscience better. After all, she was the one who had to do it.

Her hands worsened, beginning to reflect her own troubled and dire thoughts. Blood oozed from the pores in her hands, giving them a dripping coating of the liquid that seeped down into her clothes, staining them easily. She could do nothing more than shiver and shut her eyes to force herself not to allow her mind to travel this path of darkness.

“It…it has, but not in the way you must think. I’ve accepted the past which has given me so much trouble these three hundred years, and I’ve learned from it because of him. That was one of the largest things I’ve battle with myself over, but I think it’s better now.” Siri opened her eyes to her hands once more and sighed in relief. The soft tan had returned to them, nothing was out of the ordinary at all.

“But I feel…that he and I have just switched places in the world. He became the leader while I became…” She couldn’t bring herself to say the word and just sat there in utter silence.

Drakomis tried to finish it for her, "Became the follower?"

He sighed heavily, gazing at her as she had that look in her eyes while she gazed at her own hands. It was the look of pain, of sorrow, near madness even. Something from her past bothered her so much, it seeped to the surface in waves. He had felt it, not seen it. Something empathic. He looked to the sky once more, then down at his scaled palms. He didn't see no blood, rather seeing something that should have died many times before.

His life wasn't as easy either. Many times he should have been killed. He should have died with his past wives. He should have died with them all. So much of his soul had been torn from him that, back then, he could barely managed to breathe. It was a sad thing to think on the past, but he had moved on. He had tried to, anyway.

He gazed back at Siri, "I don't know what happened to you Siri," His voice was soft, calm, reassuring as he spoke. "But I do know that Melkos isn't someone to lead people, he makes them lead themselves."

As the day passed before the two, the children began to gradually filter out from the playground, some going willingly for they were tired from the day’s activities, while others were not so willing, wanting just those few more minutes to play with their friends. Their tired parents, after spending most of their time out here trying to both keep an eye on the energetic little ones and catch up on current events with their fellow adults, slowly ushered their children home, where a hot dinner and relaxing evening awaited them.

Siri observed the scene as they left, at times nodding to those parents who waved farewell to her. A fake smile had appeared, lingering just long enough for them to all leave, then it disappeared into the darkness that her mind lingered upon.

Then she said rather bluntly, “No, became the murderer.”

Drakomis smiled at the display of childish glee. Younglish going about learning the ways of life, exploring the world, playing with others in or around their age groups. It was a wonderful sight, reminding Drakomis of the beauty of offspring, with a hint of regret that he never achieved any as of yet. He sighed softly, looking at Siri as she gave an obviously fake smile, and called herself a murderer. His eyes grew wide, then they closed softly. He clicked his tongue, making a snapping sound with his teeth that was too soft for a normal being to hear, and he nodded in understanding. He gazed back at the park, seeing almost no one present.

He sat there, for what seemed like an eternity, thinking on his past. He could be called such, indeed, for the billions that died by his decision. Perhaps so much more by the millions upon millions that died trying to free the lands from the ancient nemesis of every Komodren, the Imperium. Perhaps more so when he went truly dark, and lost control. Perhaps even more, so much more, when every wife he ever had died in his arms a bloody wreck. He held back his tears for later.

Finally, after sorting through the mess in his mind he had created by summoning up the darkest of memories, he gazed at Siri. She hadn't lied to him, so he should lie back.

"Being a Leader of Many, one must choose between the fate of the many, or the fate of the one." He gave a fake smile of his own, "In this mind-set alone, I have killed billions by the summons and commands of my lifetime." He sighed, heavily, gazing up at the darkening sky. He spoke softly, "I, and every leader of sentient life, is as much a killer as the man who sits in prison accused of killing. We are as guilty, and subject to punishment by death, as that person is."

A heavy sigh left Siri’s lips as she shook her head. The comparisons between she and Drakomis were not ones to be made for these were not alike at all. He killed for the good of his people, for the good of many, while she murdered because of her own shortsightedness and greed, then attempted to fix those problems by doing the exact same thing over again. These things were nowhere near the same thing!

“Different situation, different circumstances,” she said with a hint of irritation in her voice that subsided as she continued on. “Years ago, before you and I had even met, I manipulated a pantheon of ‘gods’ to gain an advantage over my enemies. I would perform some function for them, and in return they would provide me with additional powers or skills.

“That setup lasted several decades until about four years ago. When our now-Chief Advisor was bound to Jack’s body, sharing it with his own consciousness, we needed a way to get her out of there and give her a new one. I went forward and made this request to these gods. It seemed to be within their power and I hadn’t thought too much of it. Well, apparently, they had decided that enough was enough, and while granting Ire’arra the new body, snatched me up from this plane of existence to their own. There, with my very life and everything I loved on the table, I was forced to their will. I was to begin a new religion, the Daedreth, devoted to their worship and to ensure its survival.

“It instantly created problems as it disrupted the status quo of the predominately Christian society, with the latter, in the form of the Council of the Eight Churches, having almost dictatorial control over all local government in the nation. They sought to uphold the morals and religious standards of the communities by means of whatever possible. This included infesting its teachings within schools, the police and every portion of the local government. The Daedreth opposed this for very good reasons, adopting the stance of wanting a secular government and the schools free of religious teachings. This did not sit well with the Council, which feared that the nation would run back to the problems that created the civil war. Almost all religion was stomped out then by a tyrannical administration that had knocked Jack out of power temporarily.

“I don’t know who fired first, but violence broke out when neither the Council nor the Daedreth would come to a compromise over the matter. Radical factions rose up in both sides with the intent to obliterate the other. It only worsened from there. Mass shootings, car bombings, burning down temples and churches, blowing up any buildings they so felt like…it hit every corner of Northrop-Grumman. Almost a hundred were dying daily. Jack and I tried to negotiate with the sides to end this insanity but it didn’t work. We tried martial law, but it didn’t work. We were left with only one real option at this point…

Siri paused, albeit briefly, and stared blankly out into the empty park. She seemed disconnected with everything for that moment in time as her thoughts whirled about her head. This wasn’t something she talked about to anyone really. Not even her and Jack ever mentioned it. But nevertheless, she continued on with it. “Jack grew sick of it after a hundred thousand people were killed in the bombing of a stadium and told me to do whatever I thought was necessary to suppress the violence. So I did. Under the cover of night, I, along with my subordinates, sought out and dealt with those who orchestrated the attacks. By my own hands, I took the lives of twenty thousand nine hundred sixty-three people…”

Drakomis gazed up to the sky as she spoke, imagining the chaos and disorder of things. Siri seemed to have a violent past, those years a part when Drakomis knew nothing. And Jack saying he didn't care, Drakomis knew it wasn't like him to do that. Something deep down worried him, especially at Siri's point of view. Drakomis couldn't help but realize that it was in her nature, and he couldn't place it against her. Then he recalled her mentioning of the gods in question, and sighed openly, looking down. Perhaps the most prominent moment in his history was that moment when he met her. He looked at Siri, hoping the story would cheer her up.

He crossed his legs, placing his claws on his knee hidden by the robe fabric. His tail swayed at the tip behind him, on the grass, as he contemplated. He looked really like an old man, a story teller in those mystical taverns. The type who always spoke stories to the wondering adventurer, or to the parties therein, before they went on their quests and fantastic voyages through fabled lands. He closed his eyes, a serene look on his face. The memory still touching his mind, pleasing him.

"I remember a Goddess whom once called me to save a people," he opened his eyes, gazing at Siri. "Thousands of years ago, in fact. Back in the times of magick, before the Force was understood." He smiled, "It was a wonderful time, and I can tell you plenty of adventures I had in my youth." He scratches his muzzle kindly, "Do you want to hear the story of the Goddess of Mythia?"

Siri was quite visibly annoyed by this conversational tangent, more so because of where it was placed. It had nothing to do with what she had just discussed and did not appear to do anything other than distract her from the topic at hand. No, it was merely some whimsical old memory from someone who seemed to be on the verge of rambling. She had nothing against Drakomis but she would have preferred to stay on the original topic, which is one of the reasons why she had asked him here.

“I don’t really understand its relevance to our conversation, or what good it would do. Besides, the goddess in question called upon you to save people. The ones that I manipulated did no such thing and probably never would, unless it suited their fancy. They enjoyed looking upon us mortals as little playthings, and if something good came out of what they asked, that was a side benefit but never their true intention.” She shook her head and sighed heavily, her head tilting down. “If you see some sort of benefit then go right ahead…”

Drakomis listened to her rebuttal of the change of topic, seeing Siri's visibly annoyed face. He inwardly sighed, hoping that his polite change of subject would halt her from going any further with any dramatic emotional outbursts. While he hadn't been around her long, Drakomis saw that she perhaps was about to loose it, just by remembering her painful memories. He tilted his head, hearing her resignation at an old geezer's desire to just ramble. He chuckled, remembering how old he looked in her eyes.

"Come now," Drakomis gazed at her, "You must surely understand that I feel your pain through the Force?" He shook his head, "I cannot fathom that pain personally, but I feel it nonetheless." He scratched his scaled neck, thinking now on how to properly convey this. Then sighed, "You are right on one account, the Goddess did call me to help my people while your's, so it seems, desired to be malice and self-serving."

He rubbed his robe fabric softly, looking down at it, wondering to himself silently. It wasn't everyday that he told stories. Perhaps when he went to the various educational facilities for the younglings on various planets, each one would crowd around and demand a story at some point. He enjoyed that, it made him feel old, and wise. Sometimes he went so far as to add a tinge of fantasy to them, telling stories about certain classmates there, adding their names in those stories and making them as much a part of Anagonian history as everyone else. He grinned somewhat as he realized time was catching up to him already. He gazed back at Siri, thinking of a story relating to her.

"I believe that, once upon a time, in a fantastic land of magick and sorcery, there once was a Kingdom divided in half." He smiled, speaking softly. "Now his kingdom was divided not because of the nature of it, but because that this kingdom could not find itself as one, nor forgive its other half for the transgressions it did during wars past." He blinked, continuing. "Now this kingdom was of Risa, an ancient and peace-loving culture that once thrived in a golden age of knowledge and new discoveries. The two halfs only came about when the King and Queen set about their ways and separated." He nodded, "It was indeed a dark time for Risa, something the People of the lands hadn't been through in generations." He chuckled, "But this story has no bearing here, its just an old tale."

He acted as if he wasn't interested in it anymore, gazing at her. "Perhaps some other time I can take you to that time, and perhaps it will help you deal with you pain, or help your forget it." He nodded, "It's just an offer."

No bearing? Then why the hell was it told? Siri irritatingly ran the thoughts through her head. To her, the story had no relevance whatsoever and certainly did not make much sense in the grand scheme of things. Moreover, the offer to help her with all of her problems concerning the religious strife in the Corporation, while certainly generous, would do nothing to alleviate it. In fact, it would probably make it much worse over all.

“What’s the point? It won’t do any good for me now. I’m far too corrupted, too far beyond any help you can seriously offer…simply put, I sometimes enjoy what I do entirely too much for my own good…” She stared at her hands, flexing her fingers back and forth. “There’s nothing like watching someone beg for their own miserable little life, while everything they are is ripped out from them. Their screams roar throughout the chambers from their agony, then they are silenced. Or granting them that one wish, and then condemning them for the rest of their natural lives, encased within their own body, a living jail cell, where they cannot see, cannot hear, cannot taste, nor speak, nor move of their own free will.”

Her head finally turned towards the Komodren; her eyes, as sadistic and tyrannical as they appeared, now glowed a bright crimson. “It does not end there, of course. Flesh and blood are stripped from their bones, for a use contrary to what the civilized world prefers. And their bones are stored away for safe keeping. One does not know when they might have some uses in the future. The undead generally come in handy and are much better at obeying commands than their living counterparts…”

She paused for just a few moments. Her eyes faded away into their natural green state as she gazed back out onto the park. A soft, sad sigh preceded her next words. “…but yet, there are moments where I have the clarity in mind to hate everything I am. I haven’t done what I originally set out to do. In fact, I’ve made things worse for everyone. I’ve basically become what I’ve abhorred all my life…I’m not any better than the murderers who killed my family, but there’s nothing to do to change that. I’ve created this dark path in which I walk and there is no turning back. I’ve condemned myself to a fate far worse than I can imagine…”

Drakomis sighed, her eyes told him enough that she knew not the ways of learning. To a Jedi, or Sith, such words spoken before by him would be the starting of learning, of thinking, of letting loose of conscious thought and freely exploring the feelings of things. Perhaps it was his attachment to her as a friend that kept him sitting there, even seeing how useless it was to get her mind to wonder. Perhaps, mainly, it was the fact that he felt for her, long ago. Felt something for her that kept him attached to her. He sighed openly, gazing at the park as she did, remembering her horrible explanations of torture and abuse that she brought upon the masses.

He thought for a few moments, on how to say things, on how to explain anything. If he was to help her, she had to realize at some point that nothing he said so far was useless. It was all for a purpose, to get her mind off the sorrow, or create a situation in which she furthered her advancement away from the horrors she experienced. Melkos, admittedly, would be better suited to this. While Drakomis dwelled in both Light and Dark, his teachings mainly centered around the Light of things. Melkos, his darker equal, centered around the advantage of other things. Such was the case of Light and Dark, both having a different starting point. But in Anagonia, all points led to one end. Either enlightenment or submission to the madness that led to that enlightenment. Siri seemed to display the madness, the submission to the animal, the submission to the tendencies of the true Darkness that dwelled within each sentient being.

He gazed back at her. "Your path is a dangerous one, young Siri. You retain your hatred, your fury, without compromising with the ability to forgive all that is, and was." He hissed a sigh, gazing at the sky now. "If you are to seek help, from anyone, even your Father, you must first admit to yourself that no matter how horrible the past was, you are here in the present." He looked at her, head pointed at the sky. "You must realize you are still living, still here, able to atone in some manner or fashion for those things you believe to be sins. No matter how horrible they were, you always have a chance to begin again." He looked at her, face towards her now. "Every warrior, no matter his or her path, comes to a point where they must either accept the facts of life, or go mad because they cannot force themselves to move on."

He sighed then, looking down. "Until you release this mindset that you are helpless to the fates of things, I cannot help you, nor even your Father, nor anyone. It is you whom must take the first step to recovery." He looked at her with the one eye, "Then can I help, only if you first allow."

A cooler breeze swept in from the ocean across the empty park and around Siri as the evening hours approached. And darkness, along with a few ominous appearing clouds overhead, began to gradually roll in. A rainstorm was on the horizon, but the elf didn’t seem to be bothered by it all. It actually suited how she felt at this moment perfectly fine.

She shook her head at his suggestions, noting to herself that they were not as easy as he said. On the contrary, it would be one of the hardest things she could ever do. Nevertheless, she sought to explain herself to him. “I don’t deny that I can atone for my sins and change my ways, but the ramifications for such would make it near impossible. What would it do for me and everyone else? I can’t see anything going better. In fact they would become much worse because they would all be dead. I take on this burden, this responsibility because I feel that as long as I do it, no one else has to, no one else has to suffer or die. But if I walk away from it, suddenly the forces of evil will descend upon everyone as they would have done those four years ago. As much as Jack doesn’t know it, I’ve saved his life many times over through my deeds that I wouldn’t, or rather, couldn't have done any other way.

“I know you may think that I’m making excuses and trying to rationalize it all, but I’m just stating the truth. I’ve painted myself into a corner. If I stay in the corner, then I’m trapped but only I am trapped. If I walk across, then everything is ruined for everyone. I’m damned if I do, damned if I don’t…”

He found he was getting no where. So far, as the day past, and night hovered on the two sitting on the bench, no ground had been gained or lost. Street lights now illuminated the park and beyond, and the Moon was bright above them. You could see some stars, perhaps, Drakomis able to make out his homeworld among them. He gazed up at it, remembering the teachings of the Sith Order there, and seeing how far Siri had come down that path. What had Melkos intended for her? Had he intended for her to drop this far? What would he do to help her back on a saner, more rational path to life?

Through all this, Drakomis could think of nothing to help her. The basics of the Orders couldn't assist him. No teachings came to mind. Perhaps it was because he felt hopeless too, felt her emotions towards her stagnated state. He sighed, gazing down, feeling through his Jedi robe, and finding his lightsaber. There was one way to see how far she dropped, how far she fell. He took his single-bladed lightsaber from his robe, and slowly handed it over to her, setting it into her lap. He stood, slowly, his tail sliding against the wooden texture of the bench. He faced her, his form darkened by the corner which no light came from the street lamps. Only the moon impacted his robe from the back, creating an ominous moment, hiding his facial features, one eye lit and bright with life as it gazed down at her.

He spoke, softly, as the night came farther to its completion. His voice hoarse with age now, almost resigned. Yet his eyes pinned her, looking into her core. Drakomis hissed his words, a darkness falling over him. "Then you must complete the path you have chosen for yourself, and strike me down." He tilted his head slowly, "You have no hope, no joy, no happiness, and you have given up. Become what you desire, pure evil, and kill me now."

In the darkened shadow that befell Siri from Drakomis' towering frame, the moons light came upon his arm as it rose, and lit the claws of his hands as they clenched into a ball before her. "You have become the very thing that brings darkness to all living beings, and now you must complete what you have started, seeing that you have given up your Fathers teachings." He huffed, "Are you at least brave enough to take this step? Or will you be hopeless in this too?"

Siri picked the weapon up into her hands and held it firmly within them, her thoughts swirling around trying to make sense of this. She could not believe that he a demanded of her such a thing and was almost annoyed that he could think of her as doing it. But she knew she couldn’t. He was a friend, a good friend, probably one of the few she ever had that stood by her side.

She immediately rose from her seat and stood before him, the weapon in her grasp. “You’re right…I have no hope, no joy, and no happiness, but what is there for me that would fulfill these things? Love? Family? Life? I’m stuck on this dark path for as long as I can see, perhaps to the end of my days. Unfortunately, to continue on it makes me hate everything I am, everything I’ve become over these past few decades. I’m not who I wish I could be. However, if I deviate from it and change my ways, I lose everything that had hoped to protect.

“But all I’ve done is saved the lives of my family. This has not been enough. I've watched them grow more distant over these years. Alakantar stays clear of me now, disliking any time he has to spend near me. He has a loved one now, someone who I suspect will be the one he spends the rest of his life with, but he didn’t want to get her near me until I pressured him enough. And even then, I came off as too overbearing. Jack, too, has tried to keep away from me, spending most his nights at work. And he’s lapsed into a depressive state, never really wanting to open up to me. It feels…It feels less of a mar…I…I know he’s getting older…and I…”

Siri could not bring herself to speak those words she had kept to herself for so long and trembled at just the mere thought of them. She paused for what seemed to be an eternity as she tried at suppressing the thoughts that she had. But that readily failed. Seeing no other choice, the lightsaber that she had held was slid between Drakomis’ clasped hands. Then one of his clawed fingers was pulled over to the switch and gently held there by her own.

“Look...I am not bound to take your life as you incorrectly assumed. You have neither wronged me nor had any desire to, unlike the others who have crossed my path. However, Drakomis, being who you are and what you are, you have every right to strike me down where I stand, to rid the world of the darkness I bring upon it. I will not stop you.”

She pressed her chest against the end of the device and stared directly upon his eyes. So much could be seen through her own: sorrow, hopelessness, resignation. And in this moment of sadness and grief, a tear fell from them and splashed against the scales of his fingers. A small part of her had only one last hope, that he would flip the switch and it would all end for once and for all. “Destroy me and bring about the peace you wish.”

Drakomis looked a Siri, then up at the night sky. It was clouded by the light of the streetlamps. Irritation flowed through him, and Drakomis closed his reptilian eyes. He concentrated on the moment, drank the emotion flowing off from Siri and himself, and used that to center his being. It felt like a charging of spirit, of something more. He could sense ever aspect of Siri's strife, and felt her every feeling. It made him want to cry, especially when the tear landed on his scaled finger. Her hands forcing his around his own lightsaber, ready to be ignited to impale Siri and end her life. But he couldn't do that.

Everything came upon him at once, and mere thought and conscious action was clouded by instinct. The Force overwhelmed him, and a burst of energy erupted from his self. Like an EMP wave, it destroyed the streetlamps, and every light that dared to reveal the park. Fuses blowing, sparks flying, then nothing but darkness, and the beautiful stars. Drakomis gazed up, looking at the stars in that timeless moment, then twirled around from Siri.

It was a moment of bliss, perhaps derived from the supreme emotion of the moment. His mind did not think, nor act upon the will of his being. It was purely his spirit. His lightsaber ignited, and the seconds that followed flow like the timeless void of eternity. His arm stretched, the blade missing Siri by inches as he twirled his body, now bathed in the light of the purple lightsaber, his robe following in a graceful movement that ended with the lightsaber suddenly impaling through his chest.

A soft gasp, a tiny whimper of pain, then he fell to his knees, the lightsaber still on, and Drakomis gazed at Siri. He gave a cocky grin, something from a time long past, and nodded at her. The purplish hue revealing the blood trickling from the wound and his muzzle, coughing first. "Save me and be redeemed," he said softly, hoarsely. "I have given you hope."

Another cough of blood, his eyes wide, he fell to the ground, seemingly lifeless. Thankfully the lightsaber missed any vitals, it only seemed severe. However, the blood and pain were real, extreme enough to cause the Grand Master to loose consciousness. And the option was open to Siri now, redemption, and salvation. Perhaps not by many lives, but by one, could she truly find the strength to walk the path of light again.

Please…please, do it…, her soft, green eyes begged of him in silent resignation and sorrow, not at all caring about the shattering of civilization’s hampering wall against the light of the heavens above. Such things had become relatively unimportant in this time, only becoming a mere passing thought in her mind as it focused upon more pertinent matters.

It was then that her thin, nimble fingers gradually pressed his own up against the switch of the weapon, hoping, praying that it would end everything, end the confliction that she held within her, end the grief that she continuously felt throughout this miserable existence, end the blight that she had brought upon the universe.

As in years past, she had attempted to end her life in a manner like this, but had found that another had intervened on her behalf, keeping her from committing such an act. She had tossed those vile thoughts out of her mind, at least, so she thought, only to find them resurface in recent times in a degree never felt by her before. Now, standing before Drakomis, her chest pressed against the end of the lightsaber, the switch slowly moving upwards, she knew that this had to be the end, there was no turning back, there was no chance of escaping this fate. Though, she soon discovered that a quick, easy death was not to be.

“No!” Siri screamed in horror towards the Komodren, helpless to do anything but watch as the weapon impaled his chest.

But his last words had little impact upon her for the moment, bound up within the intense remorse that strangled her conscience, grieving over the harm that had done to her old friend. Her thoughts briefly turned towards guilt, feeling partially responsible for this, responsible for putting him in a position in which such a blow had been dealt to his body.

She fell to his side, tears freely streaming down her cheeks, as she tried to muster her strength in a vain attempt to decide what she could do to save him, but she found herself unable to perform any form of a healing spell upon him, for she had not the knowledge to manipulate the magic into the saving force she needed to repair him. His body was unlike her own, unlike any others she had studied over the centuries; there was nothing there to help her through it.

“I…I don’t know…” she blurted out, weeping, her hands covered in his blood from rending the front of his robes wide open for a better examination. “I…just…don’t know…”

Time was of the essence and laid heavily upon Siri for she knew that there was little time left before he perished from the extreme loss of blood. She peered at his wound again, still attempting to force an idea out which would enable her to help him but to no avail. All she could do at the moment was to hold back the stream of fluids with her waterproof jacket, but that still hampered her efforts. She could not run for help for if she did he would surely die from his wounds.

At about that time, her eyes fell upon a crimson ring tightly clinging around her blood-soaked finger, its gems fashioned into three sharp points, aiming toward the night sky above. She turned it around steadily with her fingers, considering the ring carefully, wondering if this was a means by which to save him. But it was the only thing she had left, the only option that she had available that could do it, though, there was a slight problem involved.

The ring was removed from Siri’s finger and placed upon the end of his with a bit of effort as Drakomis’ scaled hands were quite the large ones in comparison to that of her own. She then took a firm hold of his hand, the jagged points of the piece of jewelry facing inward, and slammed it against her stomach, causing her to emit a groan of pain as she began to bleed slightly. But it did not distract her entirely from her efforts, and she settled down into shutting her eyes and mumbling the words of an arcane and almost intelligible language under her breath.

The crimson glowed intensely with her voice, which gradually became more labored and forced as she continued on, the wound upon his chest gradually receding, shrinking in size and depth with every word the elf spoke. However the downside to this became readily apparent. In the center of her once lightly-colored cream sweater, a blood stain seeped through from a wound that had appeared there, oozing through, causing her to shake as the pain tore through her body. She pressed herself onward, still muttering these words, hoping that she would be able to heal him in time, but had found that her voice was down to just a mere whisper, unable to continue for much longer, so she was forced to stop completely. The damage to herself was far too great to remove the remaining gash in him, the wound that had nearly killed him was in a location that would not strike the vital organs of one of his species, but for an elf, she was not that fortunate. She forced herself to remain conscious for she had to try to save herself, if she could muster the strength to do so…

Music for your Reading Pleasure (http://youtube.com/watch?v=JSnR80kY0m0)

Death is but the beginning for me, but life was the birthplace of my thoughts. So too is the beginning of life, which is the end of death. Remember this, so that my sacrifice is known as the beginning for me. - Sacred Texts of Novar, "All Towers Fall upon the Moon"


The ring around Drakomis' finger started to crumble as the ancient wordings ended, turning to dust. His body but had to heal now, his mind coming to sooner than his soul desired. He had entered into the Eternal Bliss, not wanting to return to the land of misery and pain. His mind had captured the images of his long lost loves, and family. The last of those images being of the most recent additions to the world of the dead. Yet in that sudden glimpse at individuals whom passed on, he saw Siri joining them.

It was not the fact of passion, nor love for the female that jolted his mind. It was the mere impossibility of the action, that the one person whom he counted as Family would so banish herself to oblivion. Countless years had passed since the last meeting, ending in Drakomis' vision of eternity this time around. Yet in all those casual and sometimes adventurous encounters, Siri had become one with his bloodline. A Sister, daughter to Drakomis' brother in Melkos by choice, wife to Drakomis' close ally in Jack O'Neill. Those times had brought about teachings and sorrow's, yet not once could he expect her to turn to casually to the darkness to save herself.

But in the moment of awakening, he witnessed for himself that his belief in her turning was wrong. His eyes were amazed to see that his body had recovered so quickly, and he sensed the residue energy of arcane and ancient power. The source was clear, the woman elf beside him whom lay with the same exact wound that Drakomis should have bore for himself. It was a puzzling moment, one with confusion. Then the revelation of the finding hit him, the time of eternity ceasing to allow the time of the present to continue, and he sat up to grab her as she fell.

He did not awaken fast enough to view her ritual, nor to see her conscious. Rather, it was intellect and wisdom that brought about the conclusion of her sacrifice. Seeing that the wound upon his body was not fatal, being now brought upon her flesh, Drakomis knew she was in trouble. But as Siri had puzzled over what to do, so did he, knowing that his act of sacrificing himself for her return to light had caused her demise through heroics. Drakomis silently cursed himself.

All at once he stood, holding her carefully into his arms. This was the few of his family, his first family. He refused to loose her so easily. In the moment of defiance, he gazed around for solutions. Finding none, and knowing the consequence of involving the civilian authorities, he had little choice but to seek help. Even the Force has its limitations, even as he felt the dried blood of his wound, and the fresh blood of Siri's. He ran across the grass of the park, looking upon the buildings and vehicles for help. He had managed in his timely form to cross the park halfway in a few moments, the knowledge that Siri was close to dying on his mind.

He gazed down at her, his facial complexion not matching his normal calmness. In all thinking he believed his act to have a different outcome, to cause her to find it within herself to truly pass her torments. In that moment he believed he had failed, but as he neared the edge of the park he came to the realization that in some twisted way he might have succeeded. Normally he would have felt triumph. But now, within the confines of the reality of the situation, he felt nothing but darkness and pain. He refused to let her die because he chose a childish game of chance.

And so he powered on, his robe flying behind him at the speed of the effort, trying in vain to find someone to help her in time. Feeling that even in all his attempts at becoming the perfect Jedi, he had failed.

An eerie blanket of silence fell upon the desolate city park, smothering the once constant reminders of civilization around it: the rumbling engines of the vehicles that sped around each block and of the aircraft overhead that throttled down as they landed, the voices of crowds being drawn towards the numerous theaters and restaurants. Even nature seemed to have little will to utter a single sound or to lend evidence of what wildlife lived here. The only sounds that were made were those of Drakomis’ clawed feet striking against the hardened soil and the labored gasps of air that Siri vainly took.

But yet, despite these barren surroundings that appeared to be void of any living being whatsoever, despite the apparent non-existence of passing time and all emotion within the landscape, someone had been present and had been watching the pair, focusing in on the events that had transpired moments earlier. It watched the result of the bloody encounter between the two, and Siri’s effort to save the Komodren. Then it followed after them as Drakomis fled the scene with the elf in his arms to save her very life, only that his efforts would do nothing more than allow to suffer and perish – utter foolishness, it was deemed. Perhaps now was the time for enlightenment for them both.

An imposing figure of a man – or what one could very well assume from this being – stepped out from behind the trunk of a nearby oak and confronted the two. He was completely clothed in robes as dark as the night in which he stood, which covered every portion of his body, except his head. That was covered mostly by a cowl that was as dark as the rest of him, the only indication of a face behind it was the crimson eyes that shone brightly.

“Halt,” was the order given, but there was no true purpose behind it for as soon as his body blocked the path of Drakomis, the latter froze in place instantly, forced under the command of a spell. “You seek assistance for a wound that is far deeper than any physician can heal. They can work marvelous wonders of medicine but if they lay a hand upon this elf, she will surely perish.”

A hand stretched out and was placed upon the constantly bleeding wound upon her chest, then the tips of the fingers reached out to Drakomis’ head. “Go now, and save her,” he said, and as he pressed his bloody fingers, the Komodren’s vision turned to darkness.

--------------------------------

At a sudden burst of illumination, a new scene materialized before Drakomis’ eyes. Gone were the familiar surroundings that comprised the Grummian capital city, the ripped and stained robes of the Jedi Master, and even the elven woman that once draped across his arms. He now stood in the presence of a great hall, at the entrance where his only way out happened to be a massive arched metal double-doorway, split down the center, but bolted with three inch width bars running through the center and sealed completely shut using a powerful spell.

Constructed of stone blocks, the outer walls were divided up perfectly into sections of equal size that continued down the entire length of the hall. Each section was adorned by a large stained glass window, lightly peppered with tiny panes of violet, scarlet, navy, gold, and lime that provided a dazzling display of colors upon those who entered. Channeled in through a series of mirrors intricately placed along shafts that ran up through the building to the roof, seemingly natural sunlight shone in through these windows, making silhouettes of the two tall marble statues that sat upon either side of the Komodren.

Toward his direct left was one of the Chairman himself, clothed in his traditional air force dress uniform, the medals from over eighty years in service and participation in five separate wars was intricately carved into the stone. His hands rested upon the pommel of a great weapon – the sword of the last Hazakarathinian Emperor – that was perhaps the most realistic piece of the statue, since it was in fact a larger, useable replica of the sword that Jack had possessed for the remainder of his life. Below the tip of this weapon, which rested against the base of the statue, was a bronze plaque bolted in, but with the words upon its face gouged out and illegible.

To the direct opposite of the Chairman was the second statue, but it did not seem to have survived as well as its counterpart. All that had remained of it was its torso and legs, in addition to a set of scales at the feet of the figure. The rest had been shattered, scattered across the floor, and the statue was now covered in cracks and blackened scorch marks.

Beyond these twin statues, near the far end of this vaulted hall, laid a cluster of power armor parts, their cerulean blue and black tint of the Corporation’s official colors peeking through the layers of dust and dirt upon their surfaces. The former inhabitants still remained inside of them as bones, picked clean of any flesh on them, jutted out of the metal greaves, boots, and gauntlets. There seemed to have been a struggle; the armor had been bashed to pieces and splatterings of long since dried blood marked the white marble flooring.

Their positioning consisted of circling two thrones, giving a clear indication of just what this room was originally designed for. But while one of the chairs sat completely empty, the other had one occupant in it, though its presence did not aid in lightening the mood in this room. A corpse, greatly decomposed, sat slumped forward in its throne, the body consisting of little more than its skeletal frame and whatever flesh coated it, still rotting away and filling the immediate area with the most sickening of odors. Matted hair, some strands of gold still showing off its original beauty, covered the head and hung down to the mutilated, stained rags that this person had worn. Its hand, a golden ring stuck on its finger to this day, clutched a silver rapier, locked in a tight grasp that came with death….

Drakomis saw a brilliant array of colors pass by his vision. One moment he was before a dark-robed man with Siri dying in his arms, the next he was standing in a beautiful yet apparently old chamber. He recognized Jack's likeness immediately, taking time to look at the uniform and the sword which he didn't recognize. Impressed, he couldn't help but feel proud of his human friend. It would be a cold day in hell before Drakomis would allow a statue of himself to be placed up, but either way in his observations of the statue he couldn't help but feel a bit of envy. Looking at the bronze plaque he noted that the words were scribbled out somehow, and felt somewhat unsettled.

His gaze turned towards the second statue, and his emotions turned from curious to uneasy then. The first thing he caught was the justice scales, the statue itself having been scorched by some weapons and torn to pieces from the waist up. Drakomis felt he was gazing at some display of anger, as if someone hated the image of the person whom was intended to be portrayed. Slowly his reptilian eyes turned towards the center of the chamber, seeing the Corporations tell-tale signs of officials as their armor lay with skeletal frames within. Looking as if some monster as sucked the flesh from their very form. Then he saw the man.

Slowly his feet began to move his body forward, his sense of curiosity outweighing the increasing sense of danger. The man, whom he didn't recognize, had died and decomposed in a sitting position. Everything seemed to piece together then in his mind. This person must have defaced the broken statue, and done some horrible attacks to whatever helpless officials lay in his wake. Now he sat on one chair, which Drakomis assumed to be a throne of sorts. Beside him, the second was empty. A puzzle which he didn't realize he observed came together in a startling revelation then.

He gasped, the smell invading his senses, and he tried to turn away. But the revelation chewed at his very core. This individual had dispatched what had to be the Corporations finest, with the fates of both Siri and Jack O'Neill unknown. Drakomis knew without a shadow of a doubt that this figure was not one of his brethren, but he knew by the signs about him that this form had hostile intent. He breathed in short breaths, the body still in a state of horrific decay. His first assumption was that somehow the Corporation's elite had managed to kill the man with some sort of new weapon, but then he had a feeling.

This couldn't be real. But his senses told him otherwise, and indeed he smelt the decay. Perhaps he should find a way to see if this man had left any survivors, or some sort of exit. He believed he should, but Drakomis felt he should investigate the corpse, and so he walked closer, past the Official's armor and skeletal remains. Each step he took a warning siren came from his chest, saying that somehow this was some sort of sick and twisted trap.

No sooner had Drakomis reached the edge of the two-stepped platform containing the twin thrones than a resounding crash echoed throughout the largely stone construction of this empty hall. A helmet, heavily laden with the contacts necessary to join the cybernetic implants of the user to the robotic functions of the suit and the armor to protect this vital portion of the user’s body, had toppled from its former resting place upon a terribly damaged cuirass and had now rolled halfway across the floor. It noisily rattled and scraped its metallic composition as it travelled along, creating a most aggravating sound possible. But the helmet soon came to a halt with an equally loud crash when it struck a piece of stone from the blasted statue.

Perhaps the cause of this mishap had been the Komodren, his clearly larger form easily tapping against the mangled mess of armor, or, if one could believe as such in this carefully sealed room, a stray mouse or two, scurrying about in search of nourishment. But whatever remained the cause of it mattered little for the corpse, once acting as a bold reminder of the fleeting lives of the mortal world, lurched forward from his resting place, slicing its silver-bladed weapon towards the reptilian being’s chest before thrusting inward with its deadly point.

Every motion of this creature’s skeletal structure produced rattling and creaking as its bones, now lacking that cushioning flesh that once protected them, jostled into one another, and what muscles still managed to cling to its frame shed their weaker portions, rife with the rot that permeated every portion of this body, allowing these slime-ridden, putrid chunks of flesh to drop upon the floor. Its eyes had not been spared this decomposition as they were virtually nonexistent save a glowing crimson orb within each of its dark sockets.

But despite having no physical means of communication through this walking corpse of an existence, its voice erupted from within the body, bearing no distinct inflections or accents, but roaring with a near demonic ferocity. “How dare you defile this place with your presence!”

It was a jump back that would have made Olympic history. The moment the helmet had dropped had he tried to fly to the moon, quite literally. Considering evolution did not grant him the ability to fly, gravity took over and dragged him back to the ground. He fell on his knees, growling in pain at first then standing as his tail thumped the ground. He started to recover, noticing then the warning's from his chest were literal and not figurative. He reacted on instinct, his forward placed leg thrusting his body backward using the knee still planted on the ground as leverage. His tail was raised from the ground, providing none, and thus he hit the ground with both hands backwards firmly planted to prevent him impacting upon his back. He gazed, eye's wide, at the corpse vividly dead, with piercing orbs of light in the sockets, gazing at him and declaring his presence defiling.

His jaw was gaping, revealing the teeth, yet the expression was of shock and fear for the first few seconds. He was in a vulnerable position, unable to actually move this way or that without taking a few valuable seconds to achieve said movement. It would therefore be useless for Drakomis to do anything but react. Naturally. Instinctively. And so he said it.

"What the hell did I do?!"

The unexpected rush of adrenaline through the Komodren’s veins that propelled him into such an energetic display of action only managed to elicit a dim response from the undead being, who had not taken any further measures to harm Drakomis, much less change its guarded stance. Not even the blunt question prompted it to respond with anything more than a single word.

“Heh.”

It was no more than a moment after this was uttered that its left hand, having been stripped almost entirely of what reminders to the mortal world remained, except a single golden band around its fourth finger, raised from its side to about chest level, then was clenched tightly into a fist. Where Drakomis’ limbs touched the floor, pools of a blackened, sticky substance seeped up through the cracks in the marble. But they did not settle for this state as strands formed within the goo and flowed up his arms and legs, anchoring him to the floor, strengthening with every movement he took against them. It seemed to draw on whatever energy remained with him, sapping it gradually as time passed.

Drakomis concentrated in the skeletal being for a moment after the single word was uttered, watching as this fist was raised and clenched. So far the entity hadn't made a single move to harm him. In this he found some satisfaction. Gradually, however, his senses directed him towards the marble floor. As his head turned, his eyes remaining on the entity for a brief moment before gazing at the floor, his jaw opened in disbelief at the black substance. It came from the cracks in the marble floor, almost as if the entity had called it with the clenched fist. Strands formed and quickly restrained the helpless Komodren as he watched in a mixture of horror and curiosity. It became apparent as he tried to struggle against the strands that he was firmly anchored to the floor and that each time he tried the struggle the strands tightened their grip.

He slowly looked back at the entity. Whether or not this was some kind of sick joke, he didn't know. Something was happening here that he had never experienced in all his life. This entire situation felt as real as reality, giving every context and clue that it was not. The thoughts alone confused him, driving him mad just trying to figure out what the entity truly wanted with him. His head started to spin a bit, a sudden realization hitting him. The strands of blackness were draining his energy and he was helpless to stop them. His confused expression became angry as he stared at the entity above him.

"What do you want with me," he asked in a harsh tone. "What do you wish to gain from this?!"