The Valley of Humiliation (Complete)

[Rev Solomon]

"'Woe to the shepherds who are destroying and scattering the sheep of my pasture! Because you have scattered my flock and driven them away and have not bestowed care on them, I will bestow punishment on you for the evil you have done,' declares the LORD. 'I myself will gather the remnant of my flock out of all the worlds where I have driven them and I will bring them back to their pasture, where they will be fruitful and increase in number. I will place shepherds over them who will tend them, and they will no longer be afraid or terrified, nor will any be missing,' declares the LORD."

The message had originated in Wild Space, a voice crying out in the wilderness. It wasn't uncommon for ministers of the Faith to broadcast on interstellar channels. Some used hyperspace communications to preach to parishes many light years across where broadcasting regulations permitted it. But this signal had been relayed on an Alliance military channel via a tight beam transmission straight to the Fourth Fleet. The only identifier on the transmission was in the header: "Attention Commodore Loklorien s'Ilancy."

It was a risk, Solomon knew as the medical shuttle Exodus hurtled through hyperspace toward the Generis system. A risk to expose himself when he was cut off from the Wheel by an Alliance-ordered quarantine, a risk to send a message to a fleet commanded by a Sith Lord, a risk to contact his old friend who, he had every reason to believe, had been seduced by the power of the Dark Side herself. But with the very soul of the Jedi Order at stake, it seemed more of a risk to stay silent.

"I myself will gather a remnant..."

It was a trick common to the Jedi during the Clone Wars. Use an innocuous transmission as a carrier, hiding more sensitive information in the background noise. You could only access the real message with the proper algorithm, which had to be decided upon beforehand. Solomon didn't have the luxury of sending s'Il the password. Hopefully he wouldn't have to.

"There are some people in this galaxy for whom the word 'remnant' carries a special meaning." (http://sw-fans.net/forum/showthread.php?p=225307#post225307)

The Exodus burst into the planes of realspace, her articulated wingtips glowing with transdimensional energies, over the cerulean skies of Generis. The world was as beautiful as Solomon remembered, a lush dome of sapphire oceans and emerald mountains. It had once been the site of his redemption. Now, assuming Loklorien received his message, assuming she was in a fit state of mind to act on it, it would either be once more a place of redemption or else, if the worst was true, a place of reckoning.

"Lok," he'd said, "I pray this message finds you well. I have sensed a great disturbance in the Force, a disturbance that surrounds you like a disease. It troubles me greatly, and I fear for your soul. If our friendship ever meant anything to you at all, meet me on Generis at the following coordinates. I will wait there seven days for you. Know, Lok, that you are prayed for, and you are loved. May God go with you on whatever path you tread."

The Exodus bloomed with cleansing fire as she streaked through Generis's upper atmosphere toward the mountains of the northern continent, the resting place for the Cathedral of Stars. There was nothing Solomon could do now but wait. s'Il's fate was in God's hands.

[Darth Acera]

It was begun.

The path - the one she had begun down with terrible finality - had now been committed to. It was inevitable now, and her will set to the outcome that her Master had willed. He had demanded her obedience, demanded her servitude, demanded her flesh, and demanded her very soul. She's given to him everything of herself, setting her very being upon his alter. And it was there that he had brought down the knife to rend her asunder. To tear her away from her past and those that had been a part of it. Now, it was only him - Decepis - that was her all. Her everything. Her lord.

In return he'd promised eternal life. To watch as her people flourished once more, as her children spread out into the stars. He'd said that she would have the power to watch her descendants overtake everything.

Both Sith knew that with Zem Vymes' inevitable revelation would come something. What specific event or events the future held neither could entirely know, but they could be prepared. They could, and would, strike swiftly and without mercy.




* * *

It was midnight of the third day of Sol Iman's vigil in the Cathedral of Stars. He had said in his message that he would wait for seven, but the Lupine was loathe to allow him even that much time before meeting his end; before sending him to Weit-Fällt.

In her old life, Acera would have praised the architecture of the cathedral. She would have admired the workmanship that had so beautifully raised such a magnificent structure. She would have likened it to the many abandoned and anciently beautiful structures on her own homeworld.

But such feelings and reactions were from the old way.

Now, as she angrily stalked toward the grand, monolithic doors that guarded the building's entrance, there were no emotions other than impatience.

Sol had become a man of some faith - whatever sort of faith he clung to she cared not for. It made him weak, compassionate, and foolish. That he had given up the Dark for such a pittance as some silly belief was his own loss. She would show to him what exactly it was that he'd so foolishly cast aside. And what he did not want, she now gladly accepted.

The Force, a roiling and angry storm that clung to her, was almost tangible. It held fast to her like a cloak, whipped into a frenzy of wild and untamed emotion as she moved with sure footsteps. It screamed its' siren song of agony to any and all who would listen, calling to them with a multitude of voices that had become merged into one.

A forked tongue of lightning flashed across the sky in brilliant purple and white, illuminating the figure of hate and rage as she continued on, and soon after a peel of thunder shook the very ground.

Acera threw a hand up, her arm sweeping to the side as she pulled upon the dark energies so prevalent around her, and the great cathedral doors were thrown open as if they had been made of flimsiplast. They banged against stone stoppers, sending a crashing echo over everything inside.

Without a pause, without a hesitation in her step, and without sympathy, Darth Acera stalked through the threshold and into the Cathedral of Stars. Intent on only one thing, her single eye cast a diseased yellow glare ahead.

[Rev Solomon]

"...He makes me lie down in green pastures. He leads me beside the still waters. He restores my soul. Though I walk in the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil..."

Solomon's eyes left the pages of his Book only momentarily as the cathedral doors crashed aside. Then he continued reading.

"...for thou art with me. Thy rod and thy staff, they comfort me. Thou preparest a table in the presence of my enemies; my cup runs over. Surely goodness and mercy will follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever."

He snapped the book shut and pushed it down into the breast pocket of his coat, and then he rose from his seat beside the altar. Behind him stood a towering sculpted altarpiece decorated with angels and saints and gilded spires, and behind that was an enormous rose window depicting the sinner's dilemma. The undecided masses huddled in robes of gray at the center while brothers and sisters in robes of white urged them to follow and ascend into glory; at the bottom of the window crouched horrible things that beckoned the crowds to join them in damnation. A flash of lightning illuminated the figures, and for a moment, you could see each one's decision in their eyes.

Solomon stepped slowly toward the center of the platform to face the terror that prowled toward him between the rows of dusty pews. "Loklorien," he said with a face that betrayed nothing. "You've changed your appearance since I saw you last."

[Darth Acera]

Midway to the altar she stopped. She stopped and took in the sight of him as he faced her - looked upon that which he could have been. He had been a fool to turn away, and now on this night he would reap the unfortunate reward for doing so.

Another clap of thunder, and she felt it reverberate through each stone. The Dark pulsed around her like some living, breathing entity, eager for a satisfaction that could only be quenched with blood. Yet, Acera held the monster within on a tight leash; it was not time yet.

She lifted her head to scent the air around her, smelling the dust and age-old odors that permeated the very being of the cathedral. One hand went out to rest atop the back edge of a pew, and her eye tracked across the room before coming to rest on Sol. His face showed nothing, and for as embroiled in emotion as she was, the Sith matched his expression.

So foolish. So bound by the rotten notion of light and dark.

Fingertips curled inward to deliberately gouge small, shallow furrows into the old wood.

Ignoring his statement, Acera chose to cut to the reason behind this summons.

"I see that Zem arrived at the Wheel, then."

[Rev Solomon]

"That was why you allowed him to leave, wasn't it?" Solomon said. He looked his old friend up and down; more than that, he sensed the maelstrom of energies surrounding her, the darkening of the Force as it passed through her aura. How could he have been so blind as not to see it before?

"I won't deny you had us fooled, Lok," he said. "If there's one thing the Dark Side excels in, it's in hiding the truth. It's blinded me before. It put me in a hole so deep I couldn't see my way out. I needed help to find my own redemption. I want to offer you that help now."

[Darth Acera]

Her hand fell away from the pew, and Acera took a step, beginning a slow pace that brought her ever closer to him. His words fell on deaf ears in only the sense that she brushed away the offer. Instead, she mocked him.

"You wish to help me... "

The dangerous, threatening tone of her voice was amplified by the whipping tendrils of the Darkness that surrounded her, and she spread her arms as she approached.

"Look at me - I am what you could not stomach, and you have the gall to say that I need help? That I need - "

She paused momentarily before going on, fairly spitting out the last word with with so much disgust.

" - redemption?"

[Rev Solomon]

"Yes."

Solomon laid his hand on one of the horns of the altar, the spike of marble ice-cold against his palm. There were figures carved there, too, figures from the Book, each one telling a story of grace or condemnation, belief or rejection. But here there was no need for allegory.

"You know the history of the Force as well as I do, Lok. Tell me, when has the Dark Side ever led to glory? Who among the Sith has ever been rewarded with anything but death?"

[Darth Acera]

"My Master."

One foot came down on the first step, and Acera began the short ascent that would take her to the top of the platform. To Sol.

"There is far more to know than the pitiable excuse of history that was taught at the Temple... " Her hand came out in a wide, sweeping gesture, "... far more."

She was halfway up.

"Don't be a fool, Sol."

The Sith extended a hand palm up, the leather of her fingerless gloves creaking.

"Let me show you... "

[Rev Solomon]

For the first time since Loklorien had entered the cathedral, Solomon's face softened, and he smiled in his sorrow. "Lok," he said reproachfully. "There's only ever room for two. Will you take your Master's place, and I yours? Or will the two of us fight to the death for his approval? Tell me, in his plans for you, is there room for a friend? Is there room for your daughter?"

[Darth Acera]

"Oh Sol... "

Her words came out in a quiet, serpentine rebuke, as if cautioning him. Cresting the last step, the Sith curled her fingers inward to make a loose fist before extending them again. She closed the distance between them with smooth steps, her eye never leaving his.

"You misunderstand my wishes. I've no intention of sharing anything with you. You who turned your back on what could have been the greatest thing in your life."

She was close enough to touch him, and her outstretched hand did just that. Fingers went up to run along the top of his clerical collar, and she shifted her gaze to slowly take in with amused arrogance the figure that he now cut.

"I wanted you to see the power that you had at your very fingertips - "

Her hand moved down to thumb the fabric of his coat.

"The power that you could not hold in your grasp."

Her curious yellow stare moved to his breast pocket, and what was contained within it. The Book. His weakness. As disgusted as she was with the notion that some book could offer any amount of salvation, the Lupine could not help her own curiosity. Her fingers traveled once more, lightly moving across his shoulder, across his chest.

"And you should not worry for my daughter... "

With two fingers Acera gripped the book, slowly pulling it out.

"... when you yourself cannot even take care of your own little herd of younglings."

[Rev Solomon]

At this range the darkness that surrounded her was palpable. It had a heartbeat and a breath and a will, and Solomon could feel it bearing down on him, cloying, intoxicating, and damningly familiar. He stood like a monument, merely enduring the tide, until Lok broke the spell.

The preacher's hand darted to the Lupine's wrist and held it - not in a crushing grip, but in a grip that would no sooner give than bonds of gravity. His face had gone as hard as Mandalorian iron.

"What do you know about the younglings?" he rumbled.

[Darth Acera]

One corner of her mouth ticked upward, and she looked up at him. Making no move to pull from his grasp, she simply held the Book - half-way pulled from his pocket - as he held her.

"I know that their numbers have been thinned."

More than that her tone held little doubt as to what she truly meant.

Behind him, the angels and saints that adorned the altarpiece began to slowly shed tears of blood.

[Rev Solomon]

The darkness pressed on him from every side, seeking a seam in his resolve. He also felt his anger boiling from within, righteous anger, justified anger, which, given its own reins, would feed on the Dark Side as a wolf feeds on fresh blood. The two twisted him within and without, urging him to strike down this grinning demon where she stood.

Solomon wavered, but he held his ground as the blood of the martyrs fell like raindrops on the granite platform. "If you wish to confess your sins to me, then I will hear them," he said. "If you wish to boast, you will do so in vain."

[Darth Acera]

With her free hand, s'Il reached up to caress one side of his face as she ignored his last statement.

"She called for you, you know; the Zabrak girl."

Her touch, which had at first been so deceptively gentle, grew firm as her fingers tensed, thumb digging into his cheekbone and the rest splayed out along his forehead, temple, and over his ear.

"Listen... "

And in that same instant Sol's world flashed white as the only thing to reach his ears was the sound of Zyani Asteroth, crying his name.

[Rev Solomon]

Solomon had not been prepared for this. His eyes rolled back and his spine arched as the Sith's fingers burned like ice on his face, and Zyani's small voice was a javelin to his heart.

"Solomon! Solomon, help me! Why did you leave me?"

An image of the little girl's broken and mangled body flashed across his consciousness, and he felt his anger rise up within him like a phoenix enflamed. The preacher shouted and threw out his arms, and the Force erupted in a nova all around him, sending Loklorien skidding backwards several meters as her robe unfurled behind her like a flag in a hurricane, and a growl of thunder rolled back and forth across the heavens.

Solomon stood there with his chest heaving as the vision faded. He looked at Loklorien with a calm face but with a storm in his eyes.

"There is anger," he said, his voice raw. "And there is vengeance. But both of them belong to someone higher than I. I pity you, Lok. You've fallen so far in so short a time. What I don't understand is why. You weathered the Purge, the destruction of the Order, the decades of isolation. How has your master turned you against everything you've ever valued? With what price has he bought you?"

[Darth Acera]

Like some beast she stood poised, having weathered Sol's push with a sense of malicious glee. She had felt his anger, rising up within him like a well-spring. It was this that she latched onto.

There was a coldness to her eye, a calculating glint, and she watched him intently.

"I weathered nothing that he did not watch over. Where no one else gave me strength, he did. Where no one else sought to hand to me the chance to bring back my people, he has."

A flash of bright light illuminated only briefly the shadows high above, and in that moment, as if they were nothing but marionettes, the bodies of at least a dozen younglings hung motionless from the upper rafters. Each one stared down with lifeless eyes.

At Sol.

When she spoke again, it was with the voices of those that she had so ruthlessly murdered, each one twisting around the others to create a mangled, haunting sound.

"You should not have called me here, Sol Iman."

[Rev Solomon]

Solomon didn't look at the images. He didn't have to. He knew who it was that Loklorien had conjured - Merran Threl, Lucentia Pavan, Zyani, Arex, Taven, and Resh, all the Padawans and younglings who had gone missing from the Wheel, along with others he had hoped to bring there who had vanished off his grid without a trace. But the preacher's eyes never left Lok, the only person in the cathedral whose soul still hung in the balance.

"Perhaps," he said. "But then, what do I have to lose? Just my life, and I'd wager death frightens you a lot more than it does me. You, on the other hand, have surrendered the most powerful weapon that any Sith possesses: secrecy."

He pressed something in his hip pocket, and there was a throb of repulsorlifts from outside the cathedral, momentarily rising above the storm, followed by the blast of atmospheric engines as the Exodus took flight. She would continue to record and broadcast their conversation to the Wheel for as long as the transmitter in Solomon's pocket remained functioning.

"You should not have come, Darth Acera."

[Darth Acera]

The Sith cast him a cheshire grin, full of malice.

"You know my name then. Good."

The small statues still cried their bloody tears, and in the prevailing silence a multitude of murmuring could be heard. The voices of children, and each one accusing Sol of letting them die. Of abandoning them when they needed him most.

Like whispers carried by strangling winds, every pleading voice wrapped about him like so many coils as if to suffocate him.

Acera, her eye still locked on Sol, started toward him once more.

[Rev Solomon]

"We are all who our masters make us," Solomon replied. "You should have chosen yours better, Lok."

He shrugged off his nerfskin greatcoat, which fell in a heap on the floor, exposing his hand-and-a-half lightsaber.

"There's another reason I called you here," the preacher said. "To let you know, despite what I do now, that I forgive you."

[Darth Acera]

The Lupine only returned his words with a mocking laugh as she too shed her own robe. It fell in a pool of black as she ascended the platform's steps for the second time. She was the picture of ruthless calm, an advancing creature of dark energies and merciless resolve.

"I don't recall asking for your forgiveness."

[Rev Solomon]

Solomon smiled in the face of the predator, an entirely different sort of calm. His saber found its way into his hand.

"If I can't show you the way to redemption, I will endeavor to give you peace in the only way I can."

His lightsaber blade snapped to life, bathing the bloody altar in blue lightning.

[Darth Acera]

A deafening crash of thunder erupted from the beginning tempest outside the walls of the cathedral, but there was something else accompanying the resounding thunder. Something final and terrible.

Behind Sol, as if cleaved in two, the altarpiece stood fractured. The jagged line that separated one piece from the other was not a clean one.

Acera was once again on the platform, her sabre gauntlet a silent threat that she had not yet released.

"We are through here," she growled.

In the soft glow of his blue blade, the Sith quickened her pace, and in a burst of speed she brought her arm out and around, the twin orange blades bursting forth as they came about to cleave his head from his shoulders

[Rev Solomon]

As the Lupine lunged at him, Solomon's senses bloomed outward like sunburst, and time slowed to a crawl. He could see her, and see through her, the twisting mass of dark energies she'd become, her teeth bared and her muscles coiled like a wolf leaping for its prey, her murderous intent as plain as the day. She was surrounded by a halo of shadowy copies of herself - precognitive echoes of all the possible ways she might decide to kill him, and as she drew nearer the copies merged together as potentiality became reality, and he could see the precise angle her twin blades would take through the tissues of his neck and jaw, and the surreal fore-image of his own head tumbling away into the galleries.

Time caught up. Solomon's ice-blue blade spun upward to meet the orange of Acera's saber gauntlet, and he threw his shoulder into the parry, stopping her momentum like a wall of durasteel.

The blades hissed as they ground together, inches from his cheek. "You're not the only one who's gotten stronger," he rumbled.

He shoved her blade aside to give him a split second's clearance, and released his handle with his left hand and thrust the open palm toward her. A force greater than the wind outside flung her backwards into the sanctuary, and as the shockwave broke on either side of her the first two rows of pews exploded into splinters.

[Darth Acera]

She took it in, absorbed the power of his push and drank deeply from it even as she was sent back. Like a demon she was crouched, her blades out to the side and her murderous glare upon him. He stood like a statue, unmoving and solid. A statue that she had taken it upon herself to cut down. To sever from its' base.

Though jarred, Acera felt her core collect upon itself; to pull from the darkness around her and draw strength from her roiling emotions. As the pews on either side of her were blasted away by Sol's action, she huffed a breath out from flaring nostrils.

Her back arched and she pushed down, the Force exploding from her center with terrible ferocity to return his action in kind.

If Sol wished to play along such terms, than she would be more than happy to oblige.

[Rev Solomon]

The blast of Dark Side energy rolled through the floor tiles like a tidal wave, sending up a cloud of dust and jagged shards of marble. Solomon leapt before the wave reached him, and the platform behind him collapsed with a roar, pelting his back with bits of wood and masonry. But the Jedi hit the floor at a dead run and charged toward the Sith, his blade throbbing with the aggressive fury of Djem So.

[Darth Acera]

Acera let him come. She let him eat up the distance between them like a ravenous krayt dragon, and with an evil smirk her body braced itself, her center of gravity low to the ground as her blades came up in a guard. Now she was the immoveable object; the statue. Except where his figure had cut a noble, self-righteous look, hers was like a waiting serpent - a twisted yet maliciously graceful thing.

Rooted, she bore the brunt of his powerful strike, and to her credit did not falter. Unlike their previous spar, the intent behind his blade was a very real and final thing. Where before they had danced, now they pressed upon one another with the knowledge that the consequences of this night would reverberate for a long time indeed.

The Sith held her ground, holding him at bay as their blades hissed and crackled with the prolonged contact. Her feet shifted only just barely, and in the next moment her body unwound itself, her arm following the motion of her core to heave his blade to the side and down.

"I can feel it inside you," she taunted, "... let it out."

[Rev Solomon]

Solomon wrenched his blade free and immediately whirled it around again at the level of Acera's head. The core principle Djem So was to dictate the flow of the duel, to respond to every attack with a counterattack, to overpower the foe and keep him off-balance. Solomon struck high to take advantage of his superior height and to force the Sith to stretch herself; his blade fell like the rain, constant and unrelenting, but still he could not break Acera's stance. Until he shifted to a one-handed grip and punched downward with his free hand, sending a blast of the Force straight at the Lupine's ankle.

[Darth Acera]

Her feet moved a moment too late, and Acera faltered only slightly, staggering back while still keeping her blades high and in a defensive cross should he drive inward on this opening. Her terrible grin never wavered however, and she bared her teeth in delight.

And yet, still she ensconced herself firmly in Soresu, letting him tire himself out with each powerful strike. The longer she could hold out, the weaker he would become, and when the inevitable moment came, she would gladly take the offensive.

"So sure of yourself," was her amused retort, and sweeping her left arm out, called upon the dark maelstrom that surrounded her.

"Try harder Sol. Let out the darkness within you that I can hear crying for release."

Splinters and jagged shards of masonry were dragged out from the rubble to shoot through the air on a multitude of paths that would meet at the same ending point - Sol.

[Rev Solomon]

In his mind's eye Solomon saw the spray of debris; he saw all the possible angles of escape and options for defense, and he saw that most of them ended with Acera lunging to put her saber gauntlet through his unprotected middle. So he shifted to a one-handed grip on his saber and threw up his left arm to protect his face. Shards of stone and wood battered him with hurricane force, and as he retreated with his eyes squeezed shut he parried a furious array of strikes to every zone of his body.

The flood of Djem So on the mountain of Soresu had shifted; Solomon was one-handed and blind, and Acera had come alive. Now it was her Vaapad against his Makashi, a whirlwind of scything destruction against the statuesque dueling form of the ages. Solomon fought to keep his profile to his enemy, to minimize his target and to keep his enemy at range with forward charges and backward retreats. But he was doing a lot more retreating at the moment.

[Darth Acera]

She was ruthless now, driving against him with relentless fury and unending force. Each blow was quick and in rapid succession to deliver a multitude of strikes in as little time as possible. To the side, then from above, she swept low and came up in an arc of orange-bladed hatred. And each time their blades met, she pulled away to attack from a different angle. To disorient him.

She danced in, then out once more. To the right, then the left as her body twisted and turned, muscles flexing and giving at precise moments. She had become her dark art, and it had become her. She was a conduit for the roiling emotions that existed within the Dark.

Charging once more into him like a monster that refused to be denied, the Lupine snarled in barely controlled fury, their bodies pressed against one another. And though he certainly had the advantage of height, she refused to be turned away.

"I fell it in you - your anger."

Her voice was a rasped shadow of its' normal fullness.

"Why do you deny it? Why must you shut it away and keep it from me?"

Her shoulder dropped then, sending their crossed blades to the side and like a whipsnake striking, her hand came around and up to slash at his face with hooked fingers.

"Why won't you use it against me?!"

[Rev Solomon]

Solomon flinched as Acera's sharpened nails flayed his cheek, and he felt his blood pound hot in the wounds, but he didn't cry out, didn't snarl, didn't recoil or retaliate. His face was still the placid lake, but his eyes were still the storm.

"I already am," he said.

The preacher took the offensive again and funneled Acera into a gallery of columns along the side of the sanctuary. With no room to circle, only room to advance and retreat, the narrow corridor favored Makashi over Vaapad and all but eliminated the Lupine's mobility. It was now a duel of form over ferocity, elegant bladework and economical footwork, a battle where he could last as long as she could.

"Do you remember our spar on the Whaladon?" Solomon said, as if they were taking a pleasant stroll. "I told you I once hoped to learn Vaapad and face you on an even footing. Well, I may not have learned its forms, but I have learned its soul, what you have forgotten."

Solomon drove Acera's weapon into one of the marble columns. The dense rock resisted her dual blades, and for a moment she was trapped, and he nearly cleaved off her hand before she pulled her gauntlet free.

"The strength of Vaapad is in the balance of light and dark, of passion and peace," Solomon continued. "You have forsaken that balance. You've given up your foothold in the light and fallen headlong into the dark. I use my anger against you, but your anger uses you."

[Darth Acera]

His words caused a storm of rage to envelope her, and the Sith let out an inhuman roar as she was relegated to hasty dodges and retreating. Furious at this turnabout, Acera knew that it would be best to switch tactics, but Soresu would not end this battle as soon as she wished. She brought her arms up to block another of his crushing blows.

Her features glistened with a sheen of sweat, and she let her feral cry diminish into a rumbling growl that came from the bottom of her throat. It was a sound of bestial defiance in the face of Sol's unforgiving driving force, and her eye was a maddened woven pattern of bloodshot vessels creeping inward to a sickly, hate-filled red-rimmed yellow.

"You speak as though you know me."

She took a retreating swipe at him, ducking to the side and coming around a pillar to his other side only to throw her arm up once more in defense.

"You know nothing!!"

[Rev Solomon]

"I know who you were," Solomon countered. "I know your passion and your joy. They were exhilarating. Electrifying."

He slapped away a strike for his knees, then did not take the bait on a feint that would have allowed Acera to slip between the columns and back out into the open.

"But now? I sense anger without purpose. Hate without reason. Attachment without love or sympathy. The Dark Side has not released your passions. It's gutted them, turned them into pale copies of what they once were."

[Darth Acera]

He would not allow her to leave the confines of the columns, and with growing frustration Acera's attacks grew more frenetic. Every move she made he countered, keeping her corralled in place. It was maddening, and she threw back her head, her single eye rolling up as though she were a mindless beast bent only on delivering death yet being denied at every opportunity.

His words had strung a painful chord, and the Lupine glared at him with murderous intent. That he dared to make such bold statements of that which he had no knowledge!

The animal within acted, and surging forward beneath one of his sweeping strikes, she barreled into him. In such close quarters his saber was useless, and Acera drove the heel of her palm up to smack jarringly into the underside of his jaw.

Not content, she allowed him no time to recover before pushing outward with the Force in a frightening display that sent him flying back.

[Rev Solomon]

The blow to his jaw sent him reeling, and then he felt himself lifted violently into the air. Only a swift application of Force protection kept him from breaking anything on the way down; as it was, he felt his shoulder and several ribs flex painfully when he struck the shambled floor and careened into the wreckage of the pews. Grimacing, he shut out the pain as well as he could and struggled to his feet to face the oncoming demon.

"Good!" he choked. "Good! That's the Lok I remember."

He backed away as she advanced, his blade forward in a guard position. "You're angry. That means you care about something. What is it? What drives you, Darth Acera, and don't say your master, because that's not an answer at all."

[Darth Acera]

Through the rubble she angrily stalked toward him, her twin blades held out and pointed down. She flung the splintered shards of destroyed pews and masonry to the either side with each step she took, the Dark catering to her rage as her thoughts stretched ever outward like hungry tendrils, ravenous and determined to corrupt. Acera grimaced at him the closer she came.

"It is no concern of yours."

[Rev Solomon]

"Maybe, maybe not."

Solomon kept retreating. He knew once they were joined again in battle, he'd have to save his breath.

"But anger means nothing if it doesn't have something to protect. If you're going to defeat me, you'll need to remember what that is."

He raised his blade above his head in the Djem So attack stance (http://images1.wikia.nocookie.net/__cb20090409235816/starwars/images/6/65/DjemSoAttackStance.jpg), and he focused on the debris at his feet. Three heavy flagstones rose from the floor and began to circle him in tight, defensive orbits, daring Acera to step too close.

[Darth Acera]

The beast inside of her was unstoppable, and she let it override her normal sense of caution. Sol was awash in the seeping, cyan haze of Force aura that he naturally exuded, and that she naturally saw. It was intoxicating in a way, and she stormed her way ahead, heedlessly flinging away anything that lay in her path.

Her entire body seemed to pulse as she moved, as the Lupine fought to keep her bipedal form yet still feed upon the inner monstrosity raging like a whirlwind.

Acera's chest heaved with her biological exertions, and coming to an abrupt halt just short of the whirling flagstones, she stood. Shoulders hunched down, and her back bent as if she carried the entirety of the cathedral.

Like some caged animal she was rooted, her blade-tips pointed down as her fingers repeatedly curled in before extending out.

Her eye never left Sol's, and his raised blade was paid no mind as she stared.

[Rev Solomon]

Solomon stared back, and for a time the two were at an impasse, each waiting for the other betray their intentions. The Jedi took a quick step to the left, but the Sith didn't buy the feint and merely mirrored him.

The preacher waited, listening to Acera's breath, to the waspish humming of the lightsabers, to the storm raging on outside the cathedral walls while the jagged stones whirled around him. And then he made his move.

One of the flagstones burst from its orbit and hurtled toward her centerpoint. In the same breath, Solomon twisted and brought his saber down in a punishing overhead strike.

[Darth Acera]

With a terrible, feral shriek she reacted, her torso twisting and feet planting wide. The twin blades came up in a blur to slice through the stone on their pathway to block his strike. It was a jarring blow, and she strained to hold his blue blade at bay even as she faltered, one knee threatening to give way.

Sol held the advantage of pure strength, but the Sith was loathe to admit defeat.

The sound of the two flagstone pieces clattering to the floor spurred her onward, and Acera doggedly held her ground. Her free hand came up, fingers played out as her arm thrust outward to deliver a brilliant burst of lightning from her fingertips.

[Rev Solomon]

Solomon sensed the Force twisting through Acera's fingertips, but his saber was locked with hers, and he was forced to improvise. He swung one of his remaining flagstones into the arc of blue-white lightning, and the stone exploded into a spray of molten ejecta. He backpedaled as another fan of lightning seared the air, and he had to grip his saber in both hands as the baleful energy threatened to send his weapon spinning from his grasp.

[Darth Acera]

Acera took her chance, and pressed in, pushing against Sol with not only physical strength, but the strength of the Force as well. She let the Dark curl outward from her being to reach for him; to pull and tug at any stray thought or wavering of intent. Every hateful tendril of ill-purpose probed and searched, looking for anything it could to trickle inward and eat away at his base.

Lips peeled back over bared teeth that seemed to be in a state of flux, changing from omnivorous to carnivorous and then back again. Indeed her entire face seemed to pulse in a macabre display of her physiological abilities, yet still she held on to the human form, refusing to succumb to the beast.

It was the third flagstone however that halted her onslaught. Slamming into her side it caused her to recoil, their locked sabers coming apart as she turned about in a tight loop while dancing a short distance from Sol.

The lightning too had ceased, as the shock of the stone's impact had been enough to jar her concentration, and as it went to her side,she pressed against the wound. She could feel through her leathers the telltale slickness of seeping blood, and as she pulled her hand away once more, her fingers were crimson.

[Rev Solomon]

As she withdrew, Solomon used the reprive to re-center himself, drawing on the Force to strengthen his aching muscles, his throbbing ribs, the burning wounds on his face. The battle was already taking a toll on him. He was gratified to see that Acera had not been unscathed herself. He considered lunging forward for a coup de grace, but he doubted she would let her guard down so easily.

The preacher gestured with his white-blue blade toward the seeping wound in her side. "I'm not much of a healer, but I could stop the bleeding for you if you'd like."

[Darth Acera]

"You stay away from me," was her hissed and angry retort as she lifted her hand to level bloodied fingers at him.

Her chest heaved as she slowly backed away, and the Lupine felt as her body began its' inevitable work. This sudden lull in the battle allowed her to gather herself as much as it allowed him the chance to do the same, and she held back from simply rushing headlong into the fight once more. Sol Iman was still a formidable opponent, and the dulling pain in her side was a reminder of that.

Once more her hand fell to press into the wound, and she made a face though her gaze remained solidly on Sol. At least the blood had stopped leaking, and when she spoke once more, her voice had began almost normal, losing its' low, angry overtones.

"I am capable enough of healing on my own."

[Rev Solomon]

"I see," Solomon said, a little ruefully. And yet he didn't know why she hadn't resumed her attack. He was certain he couldn't have injured her too seriously, and any experienced adept knew how to shut out pain during combat, even if there was a price to pay afterward. From deep inside, he could feel the hope welling up that maybe, somehow, some of what he'd said had gotten through to her. But then he remembered something Master Tau had told him once, about a reptilian predator in the swamps of Vendaxa, one that lured its prey into striking range with false tears.

Solomon extinguished his saber and brought it down to his side, but he kept his distance.

"Can I ask you something? What do you hope to gain through the destruction of the Jedi? Are you just doing your master's bidding, or do you have reasons of your own?"

[Darth Acera]

An evil, teasing smile was sent his way as she angled her head to the side.

"What does it matter," was her almost lazy reply.

She wiped her fingers on her leg, standing up straight and letting the pain work its' way through her. She fed upon it, took nourishment from it. It made her stronger, and the Dark aura that surrounded her pulsed with a sort of new life and vibrancy.

She took a single step forward, moving closer.

"Why must you bother yourself with such little things."

[Rev Solomon]

Her voice had reacquired that lyrical menace she'd used when she had taunted him before. Solomon's entire being hardened just a little.

"I could ask you the same thing," he said. "Murdering younglings is hardly a test of skill for a seasoned Jedi warrior."

[Darth Acera]

"Of course they aren't," she snapped, her blades going out in a dangerous orange arc as she took another step closer to him.

"But it was necessary. They had to die, and so I killed them."

Her head dipped down then, her eye still on Sol as her voice became low.

"I'll not have younglings grow up to be the Jedi that try to destroy my own children."

[Rev Solomon]

Solomon's eyes followed the progress of her blades, but he did not make a move to ignite his own. He was finally making some headway with her.

"And why would the Jedi do that?"

[Darth Acera]

"Look at me now and tell me that they would do no such thing."

She was quiet then, staring at him from over the tops of her eyes.

"I will protect my family," she stated yet again, and her stance lowered as she prepared herself. This night would not be a pleasant one, and she was determined to finish the job that she had started.

[Rev Solomon]

"So will I," Solomon replied, "if you'll just give me the chance to help you."

[Darth Acera]

She gave a low, patronizing chuckle at his words.

"Oh Sol, we are far beyond that now."

In the next moment her face set into a mask of stone and cruelty, any trace of perverse amusement gone as her yellow eye cast a baleful look to her old friend. His constant insistence to offer help was each time turned away - could he not understand by now that she was set upon her path? Simply because he could not stomach what was required of him to travel down the long, dark road did not mean that she could not either.

"I neither want nor need anything from you."

Her pace resumed, though now it was a clipped, almost impatient gait that she took.

[Rev Solomon]

"That doesn't mean I won't keep trying."

Solomon thumbed the activator switch on his saber, bathing the ruined galleries once more in blue light, and he angled his blade down in a defensive stance peculiar to Makashi. Acera was rejuvenated, while he had merely caught his breath. It was time to let her set the pace of the duel, to unleash her full measure of fury until she was as tired as he was. He simply hoped he could withstand it long enough to take the upper hand.

[Darth Acera]

Like a gale force wind she came at him, her blade coming around in a vicious arc that left no question as to her intention behind the strike. But, it wasn't the strength that was behind it - rather, the speed and ferocity that caused it to transition into another sweeping attack. Acera's body moved like a single fluid wave, sometimes in concert with the twin orange spears of light and sometimes as a counterbalance.

She pushed against him, seeking out any hole in his defense that she might be able to find, and though there was none, she did not stop.

A flash of lightning lit up the sky outside, and for a split second the interior of the cathedral was illuminated in stark black and white, each splintered shard of wood and jagged edge of crushed masonry visible with deep clarity beyond what the pale blue and orange hues of each lightsaber could provide.

And when the thunder rattled across the horizon, it came as an auditory stampede of nature's fury, sounding its' displeasure at everything and nothing.

[Rev Solomon]

The assault was relentless, as taxing mentally as it was physically. Acera was an engine of chaos, a storm of seemingly disjointed and erratic attacks, like lightning on a mountaintop, punishing and unpredictable. Solomon found himself rapidly giving ground, hemmed in from all sides by the dancing orange blades. What the Sith may have forfeited in the balance of Vaapad she now redoubled in ferocity. And while the preacher felt his own strength waning, she appeared to have tapped a new well of animal fury.

As Solomon parried desperately, he reached out with the Force for anything he could throw in Acera's way - spars of wood, slabs of marble, broken figures from the altar - but she destroyed each one with savage indifference and kept on pressing him. He needed to stem her assault one way or another, and as he braced himself against another scything blow he pushed his open palm toward his enemy, sending another blast of Force energy toward her.

[Darth Acera]

She was a roiling storm of emotion, unstoppable and relentless. Her body had been taken up in the rage and horrid eddies of the Dark surrounding her, and she fed from them like a starving animal. Acera dug deep, her mind sending tendrils to pull the evil close around her, to blanket and protect her, to defend and sustain her.

Her yellow, furious eyes narrowed in the split second it took for his arm to come up, and in a rush of adrenaline and hate, the Dark Side coursed madly through her veins, into her heart and throughout her entire body. It drove her beating heart, making it pound with anger in each beat.

Her shoulders hitched back, and she swiped his blade away before her own arm moved up, fingers splayed, hooked like talons, and her palm hovered inches in front of his, holding his own Force Push at bay.

He would see what she could harness; what she could hold. He would see what was now hers.

She held it there, watching his eyes and the expression on his face as her own mouth split into an evil grin.

And then, with a surge of pure emotion she threw his own desperation back at him.

[Rev Solomon]

Dust and debris flew up in the air in a line connecting Acera and Solomon, and when it reached the Jedi, so did he. The savage acceleration gave him tunnel vision, and all he saw as he hurtled backwards was her, her arms thrust forward and her hair blown back by the rush of her power, a feral snarl on her lips. And then he felt himself crash backward into a heavy wooden door, which burst off its hinges and spilled him into another room.

Solomon was dazed, and he only found his feet as a matter of muscle memory. His side burned with the pain of broken ribs, and he tasted blood in his mouth, but he couldn't tell where he'd been cut. The preacher stumbled and caught himself on a shelf of goblets and trays for the elements of the Holy Meal, sending several silver dishes clattering to the stone floor. He shook his head, forcing clarity back into his senses. That's when he realized his saber was missing. He'd lost his grip on it while he was flying through the air.

To his right was a thick, heavy satin curtain drawn across the width of the chamber. He pulled back the edge of it and dashed behind it; here was another chamber, this one full of robes and vestments on marble statues, with another curtain beyond it. Solomon staggered on deeper into the recesses of the gallery, desperate to find something he could use as a weapon.

[Darth Acera]

In the aftermath of her retaliation, Acera heaved great, growling breaths. Her chest rose and fell even as she hunched inward, her shoulders rolling forward as they threatened to rip themselves from their sockets. The feral, wild desire to Change was being fueled by the untamed eddies of the Dark Side, urging her to ascend higher; to become a being of pure hate.

And yet she held back, even as a lumbering step was taken. She lurched forward, her body twitching in the maddening rush to simply let go.

No, she had a mission to fulfill, and until it was done, she had to retain her control. The beast inside howled to be set free, rattling against the bonds that doggedly held it at bay. Her lips curled back, and the unearthly cry she let out sang in chorus to the one inside.

The Lupine took another step forward while keeping her eye locked upon the shattered doorway that Sol had crashed through, and she huffed a breath out from her nose. He could only run for so long, surely he knew that.

Her gait became a constant, marching pace as she thundered in through the destroyed frame, and one toe of her boot hit at a fallen platter, sending it skittering across the floor even as her free arm went out to forcefully swipe the rest of the dishware from the shelving...

Acra reared back suddenly then, letting loose a painful scream as she brought her arm back in to cradle it against her body.

Silver.

She staggered backwards only slightly, the pain firing through her nerves and stunning the Lupine. Even so quick a touch as what she'd given had been enough to burn. Hunched over, Acera gave a hateful stabbing glare to the curtain in front of her, but something caught her eye - something still out in the main hall. Her head turned, and her teeth flashed in a horrid grin as her hand, now with a small red welt rising on the knife-edge of her palm, lifted.

The object outside shifted ever so slightly, and then a moment later pulled itself from the rubble to fly through the air and smack into her waiting palm.

Sol's lightsabre.

She looked at it in a sickening sort of triumph before her eye lifted back up the curtain. Her back straightened. Her gaze narrowed. She idly tore at the welt, pulling at it and ripping it open before tearing it away. She clawed at the red skin around the wound, that too being shred, pulled off, and discarded. Blood - thick and crimson - oozed from the wound for only a short few seconds before slowing to a trickle. With the welt removed she would not scar. It was a failing vanity of her own species, and though she bore the mark of her Master, she would not be sullied by anything in this cathedral.

In the dim wash of the pale blue blade, her yellow eyes took on vengeful shine, and without warning her body surged ahead, Sol's own weapon rending in two the curtain that hung before her as she drove deeper into the room in which he'd fled.

[Rev Solomon]

There was no mistaking the deep, throaty hum of his own blade. Solomon had made a grave error, a violation of the first lesson taught to every Jedi who ever held a lightsaber. Bad enough to be caught unarmed and be struck down by the Sith he was trying to turn, but to allow her to use his blade, his blade, to perpetrate more foul murders in the name of her master...

The preacher staggered past the vestments and through the next veil into a the final chamber. Behind him, he could hear Darth Acera rending the curtains and plunging on after him. There was another door here, one that he knew would lead upstairs into the balconies above the sanctuary. Prepared to retreat further, he blasted it open with a wave of the Force, but then his eyes fell on something leaning in the corner of the gallery, dusty and wreathed in cobwebs. It was a bishop's pole, a painted wooden staff about two meters high, surmounted by a large, ornamented silver cross.

Solomon grasped the pole and turned to face the curtain. He could see the glow of the blue and orange blades against the thick, velvet fabric and, between them, the shadow of a hunched, prowling figure, something that was now more beast than woman.

"There is no victory in the Dark Side, Lok," the preacher said. "If you raise your people by its power, it will poison them. Just as it's poisoned you."

[Darth Acera]

She stopped her forward movement, her body coming to rest for a moment as she listened to the Jedi's words, her yellow eye staring at the last thick curtain which separated herself from Sol.

She let a low chuckle escape her lips, feeling as her body rolled with the sound - shoulders hitching back just a slight bit and knees bending to accommodate her movements and keep her balanced. She rolled her head to the side, even as her arm lifted and the twin orange blades passed through the fabric that kept her from her prize. Her feral grin was muted in a way that hid every intention and thought that she had, yet hinted of the dark and roiling emotion behind it.

The curtain fell to her feet, and Acera settled her gaze on Sol, taking him in, and as if to taunt the man she flicked her wrist in a tight motion that gave his saber a twirl.

"Immortality is hardly a poison my dear friend. And the promise of such is something that one does not turn from. If my Master wishes me to kill, then I kill. There is no price of his that I'll not pay to be granted a life without end."

[Rev Solomon]

"Immortality? Immortality? That's what he's promised you?"

Solomon's face twisted in disbelief, a mask of anguish and rage. "He's isolated you from everything you've ever cared about or loved. Turned you into a pawn for his schemes, taken hold of your destiny. He fills you with unfulfilled desires, keeps you bound to him with cravings that he will never satisfy. And you want to let him do that to you forever?"

He shook his head. "Lok, that's not immortality. That's hell."

[Darth Acera]

"I am isolated from nothing!" she shot back, her snarled words lashing out to wrap around Sol.

"To live for all time, to watch my children's children rise up and take back what was rightfully stolen from them! To watch as the Guardians of the old days are wiped out to the very, last, child! That is no hell, old friend."

She took a step closer, her body readying itself for another go as she brought both her sabers and his up.

"But I invite you to make the attempt to keep me from it."

[Rev Solomon]

"I'll do what I must," Solomon replied. "I'm sorry about this, old friend."

She might have held his saber, but she didn't know its secrets like he did. He reached out with the Force, but with very little strength, so little that she probably didn't even sense it, and switched on the stun-stick attachment built into the butt end of the saber casing.

The weapon's power cells were already hot. It was more energy than the electrical coils in the stun stick were meant to handle, and the discharge fused them permanently, but the resulting blast of electrical energy shot straight down Acera's arm and grounded into the floor beneath her feet.

Without pausing to see how she'd weathered the shock, Solomon swung the bishop's staff like a broadsword, aiming below her raised saber gauntlet and striking her across the chest with the silver cross.

[Darth Acera]

The shock was so completely unexpected that the Lupine stood rooted, her hand reacting to the shock by clenching tighter in its' hold on Sol's saber. Many times over she had felt the sting and pain from her Master's own violent electrical attacks, but this was of a different sort; it pounded through her body on an unrelenting journey to the ground. Like some invisible hammer it struck, and within moments it was gone...

... only to be replaced by something far more painful; something far more terrible.

There was a split second of disbelief as she staggered back, her eyes wide; one a diseased yellow and the other a murky grey.

She watched him, and watched the staff that he now defended himself with. She could feel her skin reacting to the strike and the heat of contact still lingering.

In rage she flicked his lightsaber off, and hefting it like a club, the Lupine bared her teeth at him.

"I'll not give you the dignity of dying by your own blade," she growled, advancing on him once more, "... I'll simply beat you to death with the hilt!"

[Rev Solomon]

If she wanted to use an unstoppably lethal weapon as a thirty-centimeter club, Solomon wasn't going to argue. He shifted his grip on the staff and wielded it like a spear, baiting her with the still-smoking silver cross while winding it just out of reach of her saber gauntlet. For the moment, they were at a stalemate, but that wouldn't last.

He looked beyond his enemy, and with a scrape and a clatter, the sacred silver in the next gallery rose into the air and floated toward them.

[Darth Acera]

The sound that reached her ears was like a crashing and scraping harbinger of what she knew would most certainly be a painful road to death, and s'Il let out a growl, her body tensing as she crouched low. The cacophony grew louder, and in a burst of energy the Lupine leapt into the air, her body twisting as she arched over the offending staff's silver cross. She felt it rake along the length of her arm however, and in reaction her grip on Sol's saber was gone. It fell, left behind to fall to the ground and clatter to the side.

She landed easily enough upon the steps of a stairway that led up, and the Lupine hissed at the dull pain of her burn even as her mind pushed it into the back recesses of her awareness.

"You are nothing," she accused, "... like the younglings you brought to me for slaughter, you will know well enough that my will is unstoppable."

[Rev Solomon]

Solomon shifted the staff into his right hand and called his saber into his left. It sprung to life before it even met his palm, and he menaced the Sith with both saber and staff.

"If you're so unstoppable," he said, "why do you need a master at all?"

He advanced up the stairs after her, wielding his saber like a defensive shoto, using it to beat her gauntlet aside while he struck at her with arcing sweeps of the staff. The silver capital rang like a bell and sparked like steel against the stone walls that lined the curving staircase. When she ducked a wicked thrust from the cross, Solomon whirled the staff back and sent the other end of the wooden pole cracking into her chin. Bit by bit, he forced her to give up the high ground until they were both in the balconies.

The balcony pews had been removed long ago, leaving an open, dusty corridor ten meters wide bounded on one side by gleaming stained glass windows and on the other by a wooden railing and a sheer drop to the sanctuary floor. Lightning lashed the skies outside, bathing both combatants in a kaleidoscope of angels and demons.

[Darth Acera]

The beast was nearly unchained, held back at each crucial moment until the perfect time. Acera took the blow across her chin, her head snapping to the side even as she gave up ground to Sol.

But the ground that he took from her was earned with blood of his own; the Lupine had been ruthless as she dodged that sweeping staff, ever-mindful of the silver cross that sat upon it's tip, and her body twisted around the accursed thing to wind its' way in close enough to leave her own parting strikes to the Jedi.

She was cautious however, to not engage him outright in a battle of strength. Sol Iman had the undisputed upper hand in matters of sheer body mass and the advantage of using it in close quarters, and the smaller Lupine had enough presence of mind at least to refrain from locking blades with him.

It did not stop the serpent from winding her way around him however, weaving in and out to strike at him from any angle available.

The staff swung over her head as she ducked once more, the silver gleaming like a cursed apparition. As her twin blades came up to block another counterblow from his saber, Acera let out a feral, banshee cry as she burst forward in a surge of power. She crashed into Sol, her eye a crazed red ringed yellow orb as bared teeth came down to clamp shut on exposed neck.

[Rev Solomon]

"Ah!"

Solomon hadn't been prepared for that kind of ferocity. With his lightsaber locked up against her gauntlet, he lost his grip on the staff and grappled with his right hand to keep her jaws off his throat. He caromed backwards underneath her weight and into a stained glass window, sending a spider's web of cracks through the beneficent image of a praying saint.

Acera crushed down on him, pushing the cracks deeper and popping out several colored panes of glass. He lacked the leverage to stop her. She closed her jaws on his neck, missing his windpipe and jugular but taking a ragged patch of flesh and scoring the sinew. Solomon shouted in pain and squirmed for better purchase against her; at last he found the footing to shove her skidding to the balcony ledge, her chin and lips slick with his blood.

[Darth Acera]

The animal was in a crazed frenzy, and without hesitation kicked off of the balcony's railing to once more come at Sol. With the dreaded staff out of his grasp, she felt emboldened to press inward, and that was just what she did. The Lupine sprinted at him, eating up the already short distance between them like a starving monster, giving him no chance to recover as she brought her blades to bear against him.

She slashed up, and as he met her strike with a block her body shifted to dart to the side, the twin sabers following her motion down the length of his own blade and on a path to sever his hand.

[Rev Solomon]

Dizzy from a cocktail of pain endorphins and adrenalin, Solomon rocked under the blow, and he grabbed his saber hilt with his off hand to give him the mechanical advantage to lever Acera's blades away from his wrist. He twisted his body, sending the blades of her gauntlet into the stained glass window behind them. It exploded into colored shards, and the two of them spilled out onto the slanted eaves of the cathedral roof outside.

Rain had joined the thunder in battering the mountaintop, and the old slate shingles were slick. As Jedi and Sith slid freely down the sharp incline, Solomon lifted a leg and kicked hard against Acera's chest, sending them skidding apart before they dropped over the ledge.

The preacher's hand shot up and seized the jaw of a frowning gargoyle thrusting out from the edge of the roof, and he snarled in pain as the sudden stop threatened to tear every joint out of socket. Below his dangling feet, the cathedral wall plunged down and joined a nearly vertical cliff face that ended in a forested valley hundreds of meters below.

[Darth Acera]

Using the momentum of Sol's kick, Acera rolled across the steep incline away from him as she too slid downward. Rain had made the shingles far too slick to even have a hope of gripping solidly, but her fingers were hooked like talons regardless, scraping at the surface as her descent continued. Her entire body seemed to scream with her efforts to halt her fall, and the Sith doubled her efforts as the edge came up to meet her.

Moments later she careened into the open air, and in a last desperate move she uncoiled like a striking sand cobra, grasping the narrow ledge in a vice-like grip. The sudden halt in her momentum was enough to make her cry out as - like Sol - every joint in her body felt as if torn apart.

Her body swung wildly, yet still she clung desperately to her precarious hold.

A fork of lightning lit up the sky for mere seconds, but it was long enough for the Lupine to catch sight of her adversary who was himself in the same predicament.

[Rev Solomon]

They were both of them swinging in the wind like clusters of overripe fruit. Solomon entertained a thought of aiming a Force blast at the ledge Acera was holding, sending her plummeting into the chasm below, but he couldn't be sure that would finish her. What was more, she might get the same idea.

Solomon quickly hooked his saber back into his belt, and then, with a roar of exertion, he pulled himself up on his tortured arm until he could grasp the gargoyle with his other hand. It was agony, but he couldn't rest there. If Darth Acera found a stable footing before he did, it would all be over. He hauled himself up over the creature's frowning jowls and began to worm-crawl his way up the slick, slanted roof.

The shattered stained glass window loomed in the wall before him, but that wasn't his goal. A twisted chain of lightning lit up the cruciform roof of the sanctuary itself, vaulting another ten meters above the eaves, and he could hear Master Tau's stern warning in the back of his mind: Always seek the high ground. The upper roof would be more stable than the eaves, would give him better visibility, even if it meant throwing himself at the mercy of the elements.

Halfway up the slanted eaves, the preacher struggled to his feet, planting one boot in the hollow of a missing shingle for better footing, and he shielded his eyes from the rain so he could see the edge of the roof looming above him. But before he could make his leap, he felt every hair on his body rise with crackling potential.

Solomon tore his saber from its holster and ignited the blade just in time to intercept an arc of lightning, not from the sky, but from the Sith on the other side of the eaves.

[Darth Acera]

Hand over hand she'd pulled herself back up, and Acera now unleashed upon Sol all of her fury. She drew upon the Force to give her unnatural strength, to fuel her rage, and to drive her body onward and upward. Her hate was a tangible thing that cut its' way through the battering rain and she allowed the emotion to bathe her in the unending waves of the Dark.

She threw an arm out, fingers splayed as the snapping blue tendrils of lightning arced out toward Sol. It was more than evident that he was seeking the high ground, and Acera was determined to keep him from just that - or at least slow him down enough so that she could instead take his intended position.

The Sith slowly made her way up the slick surface, her movements cautious yet calculated as she continued her assault.

"I know what you're doing," she yelled, a crooked and grim smirk to match.

"You can't escape me, Sol Iman. Try for the high ground and I will pull you back down."

[Rev Solomon]

"You'd really rather stay here?" Solomon shouted back over the howling wind, which tore at the rooftop with icy claws. "You could've chosen a better place for an impasse!"

He lifted his saber and absorbed another blast of lightning from the Sith. It was an impasse; neither one could commit to an attack without giving up their own stability. Aggression was not the answer here.

Solomon looked out toward the abyss over the cliff's edge where the rain still hammered down, driven into spinning eddies by the wind. With his free hand he reached up toward the storm, and he calmed himself. The Force was in turmoil all around him, but with all his concentration, he created a pocket of serenity in the middle of the storm.

The rain directly over the preacher's head stopped falling. It hung in the air like drops of crystal on a Life Day tree, like shimmering stars in the night sky. As more rain gathered, the droplets flowed together into rivulets, and then into a stream, gently spinning like a galaxy.

With a flick of his hand, Solomon spun the water faster into a whirlpool, into a hurricane, and then he released the stream like a raging flood directly at Acera's feet.

[Darth Acera]

There is always a moment of calm before the flurry of action; a moment where the galaxy and all in it slow to a standstill and watch, waiting for what was next to come. These pockets of time are especially felt with crystal clarity through the Force, as the magnitude and sheer depth of feeling - of being connected to all - creates an acute awareness of each and every thing created.

The feel of rain as it fell upon a body, the sound it made as it hit slate shingles and formed a myriad of small rivers downward. The rush as those rivers coalesced into one as it hurtled over the side and into the air to fall like scattered diamonds to the ground far below. Brief flashes of light met the eyes with startling brightness that illuminated the world around and cast it into daylight for the barest of moments. In that light all was seen, and what the dark had enveloped was thrown into brilliance for milliseconds as the shroud of blackness peeled away.

And then the darkness once more.

The thunder rumbled across the sky like a stampede of angry creatures chasing those elusive flashes of light. It raged at its' own inabilities to keep pace, and the world knew it. It made sure that everything and everyone heard its' terrible, raging roar.

These are things that men and women from both sides of the Force know and experience, and they are intimate with the calm, with the quiet knowledge of what they know will come after.

The rushing water that hurled her way was like a creature of its' own, called into being by Sol's manipulations and given sentience. Given the desire to send her over the edge of the roof by whatever means necessary. The lightning that had been so hungry to lash out at him ceased, and the Lupine crouched low, her center of gravity as close to the slick shingles as possible, muscles so focused on balancing now tensed further as she watched. Through the pounding rain she kept her gaze locked on the oncoming deluge, and as she felt the first whispers of displaced air, her body reacted.

Her head ducked, and she braced as the waves crashed over her. Her grip on the roof's surface grew unstable, and she felt herself slide back a few paces, pushed with relentless force once more toward the ledge.

She pulled inward, calling to the dark energies around her, and her body drank deeply even as it pushed itself outward, and in an explosion of water and raw anger, s'Il pushed up from the rooftop and sent herself into the air towards Sol.

[Rev Solomon]

In the same moment, Solomon had leapt for the roof above, but, with the grace of precognition, Acera's aim was still true. Only a desperate parry saved him from being speared through on her saber gauntlet, and instead she crashed headlong into his solar plexus and drove him off his course. There was no time to speculate where; his own foresight already saw his head cracking like a melon against an unyielding stone wall if he didn't do something to change their direction.

He pulled his off-hand free and sent a Force blast at the rapidly approaching structure behind him, and at this range it was as good as a thruster jet. The two combatants lurched in mid-air, narrowly missing the edge of one of the cathedral's two massive bell towers, and crashed down onto the vast expanse of the cathedral's slate roof.

They tumbled shoulder-over-shoulder with their sabers still locked together corps-a-corps, carving deep, black arcs into the slate tiles each time they rolled over. When they stopped rolling, they slid over the rain-slicked roof; when they stopped sliding they grappled like a pair of vornskrs with their jaws locked on the same meat-crusted ribcage. In a wrestling match, Solomon should have held every advantage, but Acera was possessed of an animal strength and a demonic fury, snarling hoarsely as she struggled for another taste of his flesh.

Then lightning blasted the belltower above them, and both Jedi and Sith were blinded, dazed, and deafened. Solomon felt his saber come free, and he swung for where Acera's head had been, but she blocked him and rolled out of his reach. By the time he scrambled to his feet, she was on hers, shoulders heaving, her mouth squared with hate, her golden hair a tangled nest of vipers flailing in the wind. And in that moment he knew in his heart, what his mind had resolved but his conscience had refused to admit, that the person he knew as Loklorien s'Ilancy was gone.

[Darth Acera]

She saw the finality of everything in his eyes and his stance, and the very edges of her lips curled up into a cruel, knowing smile.

"Now you see. Now you understand."

She edged closer, her body coiled like a serpent.

"That which you seek to save has been saved by another. I've not died - I have been given a new life that will take me and my kind into immortality."

s'Il glared at him, her narrowed eye glinting with the knowledge that this night was drawing to its' close.

"Say your farewells, Sol Iman. We are through here."

And with one last surge of power, the Lupine lunged at him, her sabers hitched at a sideways angle behind her mere moments before coming up and around on a path meant to cut her adversary in two.

[Rev Solomon]

The revelation was meant to break him. But it did just the opposite.

Emotion, yet peace.

Solomon levered Acera's saber gauntlet off of its lethal trajectory, and the blade locked together once more, bringing their faces close to one another. In the preacher's eyes there was no condemnation, no sorrow, no remorse - there was only a singular concentration of purpose, a strength that came from the convictions of the soul.

Ignorance, yet knowledge.

Their blades windmilled around, and Solomon shortened his grip to a two-handed variant of Makashi, battering the Sith's defenses with short, savage strokes that forced her to backpedal and shrink her blade arcs. Blue and orange blades flashed like chain lightning, and the two warriors nearly sprinted together over the expanse of the cathedral roof.

Passion, yet serenity.

There was anger, deep within the wells of his soul. Anger at the darkness that had taken Lok away from him. Anger for the senseless slaughter of innocent children. Anger at the deceiver who had tortured her mind with empty promises of power and everlasting life. But that was what anger was for - not to protect one's own pride and kin but to oppose evil in all its forms.

Chaos, yet harmony.

Lightning lanced the air from Acera's fingertips, and Solomon's Force blasts sent up shrapnel plumes like mortar shells. The storm above them rotated as they circled one another, as the fury they unleashed slowly demolished the cathedral all around them. With a roar of crashing stone and a peal of ringing brass, one of the bell towers collapsed in on itself, carving a canyon through the sanctuary behind them.

Death, yet the Force.

Solomon felt the Dark Side and the Light Side flowing around him like solar winds, and he bent both of them to his will like a master of Vaapad, directing the fury of the Dark by the righteous hand of the Light, and the duel became a meditation. In it, he saw a great wall of light pressing against a cloud of darkness, and he and Acera were at the furthest arm of each, the shatterpoint of a conflict that dwarfed them both, and he knew, whichever one of them fell, that there would be others to take up the cause, that the battle would go on until the final trumpet's sound, but that it was a battle worth fighting, the only battle worth fighting, and he would give his life a thousand times over in its service.

But in that moment of clarity he saw something he did not expect - a point of light inside his enemy, buried deep and secret. Not the light of redemption, but the light of innocence, the light of new life.

Suddenly he was back on the rooftop, but the memory of that light burned in his mind like a searing coal and caused him to miss his footing for a fateful instant. "Lok!"

With an angry hiss and a spray of bloody vapor, his arm from just above the elbow dropped smoking to the rooftop, and his saber extinguished itself in the rain.

[Darth Acera]

The grim silence of her triumph was punctuated only by the sounds of nature's fury, and Acera gave herself fully to the emotions that twisted around her. She'd heard Sol's call, but ignored it for the simple fact that his distraction cost him his arm.

Now it would cost him his life.

The Lupine was lost in the power of her own dark connections, a maelstrom of hate, rage, and a wild passion given life from every terrible depth imaginable. She was the blade of her Master, wielded with no hesitation and no quarter given.

A hiss escaped from between clenched teeth as she swept away from him in a tight turn.

The air was thick with burnt ozone and cauterized flesh, and her nose picked each scent apart with precision. She could even smell the burned clothing of his sleeve and that peculiar sharpness that bone gave off when set alight. All intermingled together to create an atrocious scent, but it was one that she welcomed regardless.

Her blades swung around as she danced away, and coming to a stop she faced him. Her shoulders were hunched, her head angled down yet her eye remained locked on Sol, watching his changing features and each emotion that played out in the aftermath of losing his arm.

She smiled a hateful smile.

And then she laughed. It was a wicked sound that traveled through the pelting rain and around the thunder like a Kaminoan water asp intent on its' victim.

One hand went out, and Sol's saber was snatched from the lifeless grip of his fingers to smack into her palm for a second time this night.

Without her eye leaving him, Acera lunged, the twin orange blades stabbing forward on a final pathway to his chest.

[Rev Solomon]

There was no pain. Even as his senses expanded, and he could see every needle of the tossing pine trees on the next ridge half a kilometer away, and feel the plash of every raindrop into hundreds of tiny particles of water on his scalp, and hear the wind crying a sepulchral chorus through the broken bones of the cathedral beneath his feet, Solomon was whole and at peace. If this was to be his dying day, then he would face the final judgment open-armed and unashamed.

But he would not be facing it alone.

As Acera lunged, so did he, with a burst of the Force to knock her gauntlet arm off its aim, and with his left arm he closed his hand around her fist, losing his index and small finger to the twin blades of her gauntlet, but holding her in an iron grip. With the still-smoking stump of his right arm, he pressed her to him in a desperate embrace so she could not pull away.

And then, fighting her strength for strength, he pushed against her weapon and lifted her arm to the sky, and the orange blades rose like towers pointing straight at the center of the storm, where power gathered like a coiling serpent.

Acera's hair and the edges of their clothes lifted into the air, which was filled with the sharp, biting scent of ozone.

And then the first bolt struck, a chain of elemental fury as hot as the sun cast between earth and the heavens that grounded itself on a point between the lightsaber blades.

And then the second, arcing from another spot in the clouds to the very same point.

And then a third, which forked and sent up showers of smoldering tiles all around them, and the gauntlet erupted in a blaze of sparks and came loose in Solomon's hand.

The fourth struck them head-on as Solomon's grip on Acera fell slack and lifeless around her.

And the fifth and final bolt sent Jedi and Sith flying off the rooftop in opposite directions into the oblivion of the storm.

[Darth Acera]

Her body was no longer her own, and Acera could do nothing as she felt herself slung away into the darkness of the storm, away from Sol. Her body tumbled along the slate roof, skidding over the slick surface like some stone tossed across the still expanse of a lake. She was aware, yet unable to halt her movement. She felt no pain, yet knew at the same time that the injuries she was gathering were indeed painful.

What was worse however, was that the world around her was white. A blinding light that did not fade was all that she could see, and that more than anything else terrified her.

She crested an overhang, and felt as she hit the slanted portion of the rooftop on her side. Feeble attempts that amounted to nothing more than a twitch of her hand did nothing to halt her movement, and she felt herself gaining speed. She knew that the ledge would soon come to greet her, and that she would be sent out into the open air to fall to her death.

If there was any comfort in the thought of her own death, it was that Sol too would meet the same fate.



Salvation came in the form of the ruined and destroyed cathedral itself, and the Sith was swallowed by a hole in the roof that'd been opened up over the course of the last terrible stages of the battle. She fell through the darkness, the trajectory and velocity of her body on its' descent sending her into a side wall.

She felt herself jarringly come to rest on the upper floor of one of the cathedral's balconies, shaking with the aftereffects of the brutal heavy hand of nature's raw power. She could smell the acrid scent of her own flesh, but it wasn't so much from the lightning than it was from that which she'd come to rest upon.

The silver crosspiece of the bishop's pole that Sol had used to defend himself with was beneath her, and the heat she could feel even through her clothing. Her spine arched, but it did no good as she felt the impression of the cross burning itself into her back.

Her grip on Sol's saber tightened, and she cried out, a sound that blossomed into a beastly roar, drowning out the rain and reverberating throughout the cathedral.

[Rev Solomon]

The thunder ceased, the clouds parted, and, as with all things, the storm came to an end. The sky was clear over the ruins of the Cathedral of Stars, an infinite canvas of jewel-bright constellations as deep as eternity itself. But riding high over the cathedral, if you had the keen eyes to see it, there was a tiny, shining light that had not been there when the cathedral was raised.

The medical shuttle Exodus drifted in a low orbit above the arc of Generis, catching the light of the morning sun before even the loftiest of mountains, waiting like a faithful friend for the call of its master. But the call never came, and the first light of dawn meant it was time to execute its final duty.

The cockpit holopad flickered to life, and the ghostly form of Reverend Solomon stood there in miniature and gathered himself as if to deliver a eulogy.

"My friends," he said, "hours ago I transmitted the time and coordinates where I confronted the Sith known as Darth Acera. If you are receiving this message, it means that I have failed in my mission, and that I am dead, or I soon will be. It also means that the Jedi we have known as Loklorien s'Ilancy is gone. I will not say, even now, that she is beyond redemption. But for the present, she is beyond our reach.

"I do not believe my death is a vain one. Yet I must apologize for leaving the Order in such a time of desperate need. To my fellow Jedi, I implore you to remember the mistakes of my generation, and to tolerate neither corruption, nor decadence, nor blindness to the suffering of innocents. For it is in the shadows of our pride that the Darkness hides and grows in power.

"To my friends, old and new, know that I have found peace. And I will see you again in a place where the Darkness has no foothold.

"May the face of God shine upon you, and may the Force be with you."

The image of Solomon flickered and disappeared, and the shuttle powered down. Far below, morning spread its light to the mountains of Generis, and the world was created anew.