Even though it now sits in Master Atris' meditation room upon
the sub-zero surface of Telos, it is not a Sith Holocron. Just
a datapad, humble and blue, waiting for its mistress and recipient
to view it. Whatever she decides to do, she must know the truth.
At least according to Isknania, whom she had banished not so long ago...
************************************************
Master Atris,
You were right. Not just in the beginning, when you and the
Masters decided to banish me from the Order. I deserved exile,
as I told you the second time that we met. You were right about
her as well, and I should have seen the empty and scheming
eyes that lay behind her hood. She was exploiting my weakness,
preying upon what I'd done. What I'd done, and who I was.
Perhaps the Masters said it best:
You are a cipher, a wound in the Force that must be closed.
I didn't want to believe them, but at the same moment, I knew
it must be true. How else could I explain the almost slavish
desire of my companions to mold their beliefs to my own? I
thought it was a natural thing, the response of friends to a
friend. However, as I discovered from the Masters, my influence
was much more than that. It is no wonder that they wanted to
punish me a second time.
I pled for my life, pled for mercy! Ah, Traya, why did you save me?
Would I have been truly perfect in your eyes if I had let them cut
me off from the Force again? Would you not have betrayed me?
I told them I did not deserve such a punishment. Was I wrong?
I can't say I'm innocent. The blood of thousands was on my
hands, thousands upon thousands. That blood drips down my
fingers still. However, I never wanted to cause the slow death
of the Force.
That was what Traya wanted, and that was what would have killed
me if I had followed her teachings to their conclusion. I am not glad
that I killed her, but I am glad that I finally had the strength to tear
Malachor V asunder. That planet is hot and evil, a black beacon to the
Sith. After fleeing that world, only then could I finally sleep well again.
Can you hear me? Would you forgive me now if you saw me here,
flat at your feet, begging for this void in my soul to be filled again?
I should have seen your wisdom from the very start, the cruelly kind
wisdom that cuts like a lightsaber through flesh. Traya may be dead,
but we are both alive, and together, we may have a chance at
winning the war that lies ahead.
Forgive me or condemn me, Atris, but I can no longer bear this wound.
To be this wound. I need you, for you're of the Light. I turned
you back. Please turn me back, and let the potential to make
the Force die perish within me.
Traya said that without the Force, I am whole, but if she's right, then
ya--nichevo. I am nothing. That is the truth, and I embrace it.
Yours,
Isknania, the Exile
Very interesting. I like the whole beginning with a letter thing. I would like to see more of this Fic very soon. :)
Also I have to say, this letter was very poetic and moving. I like how you put yourself in the Exile's shoes, and wrote the letter as if you were her. Like I said, write more as soon as you can. I want to see it. :)
Interesting. I'll read this.