Innocence Lost

Stone scraped against stone, when the large ornately carved doors slid open revealing Naga Sadow's musty, dank crypt. Dustil cautiously stepped into the chamber, squinting in the oppressive darkness, searching for his prize. He almost collapsed in sheer relief when he saw the silver cylinder of a lightsaber glinting across the room.

It seemed like every single muscle in his body ached; the tests and trials for his final acceptance to the Sith academy had left him bruised, bloody, and battered. A part of Dustil couldn't believe that he'd made it this far without getting killed, but there was a bigger part that was proud that he had achieved so much. The puzzle had been easy to figure out, but he had nearly gotten torn apart trying to sneak past the two terentateks, and the ugly gash across his left shoulder blade was most likely going to be a permanent souvenir of this trial. The pain pulsed and throbbed as he moved, in time with the dark energy drenching the crypt, but strangely it was a darky pleasurable sensation.

Over the last several weeks, he had competed against several dozen other hopefuls, sabotaging their efforts and planning his own. A bitter and nasty rivalry, encouraged by Master Uthar, had flared between himself and another hopeful named Navin. Finally, he'd stolen an ancient Sith holocron that Navin had scavenged from one of the other temples, which gave him enough prestige for Uthar to declare him the winner. Victory had been especially sweet, since Navin had turned almost green from outrage, envy, and bitterness. Now all Dustil had to do was grab the lightsaber sitting on the dais across the room, and he could get the hell out of here.

He did a quick scan of the crypt, checking for any last minute traps. Not seeing any, he moved forward cautiously until he was standing before the weapon. Dustil reached out and touched the lightsaber hilt with his grimy, blood covered hand. The metal was cool and soothing under his touch. Carefully, Dustil picked up the lightsaber and pressed the small button on the side. The lightsaber ignited with a soft snap-hiss, and the red glow of the lethal blade illuminated the dark tomb.

Dustil swung the blade in the air experimentally, listening to the hum of the lightsaber as he tried to get used to the weightlessness of the weapon. His heart began to thud against his rib cage, and power crashed through him. It had happened to him before, but never this much or this powerful, and he felt as though he was awakening for the first time and seeing the world in its truest, purest form. It was a dark and heady and terrifyingly exhilarating. Dustil smiled and embraced the power, until he thought he would burst. After a long while, he reluctantly snapped the lightsaber off and hooked it to his belt.

When he passed back through the door to the room with the frozen acid river, he saw Uthar standing on the other side of the bridge. Dustil was immediately on guard, his hand moving to his new lightsaber.

Uthar approached him; his amusement at Dustil's defensive stance clear. 'Well done, Dustil. I am very pleased to see that you've made it this far. The Force has served you well.'

Dustil's swelling pride rang in his voice. 'Yeah, it was no problem.'

'So young and arrogant.' An approving smile spread across Uthar's ashen face, and Dustil almost cringed at the terribleness of it. 'Then the last part of the trial should be easy for you.'

'The last part of the trial, Master Uthar? I thought that I was finished.'

'Not quite.'

Uthar stepped aside, and the door behind him opened. Navin, the hopeful that he had stolen the holocron from, emerged from the shadowy corridor. The kid was bigger than Dustil, but at least a year younger, and his large frame was still pudgy with baby fat. When Navin caught sight of Dustil, he turned crimson and his round face twisted in pure hatred. He pulled out a silver vibroblade, and licked his lips in anticipation, but Uthar held up his hand, signaling for Navin to wait. The kid clenched and unclenched his free hand, eager to attack, and Dustil realized in a moment of cold certainty, that Uthar had brought Navin here to do exactly that.

Uthar's authoritative voice demanded attention. 'The last part of your test will now commence. You must learn the lesson of competition, Dustil. All life must compete in order to flourish. Such is the natural way of the universe, and is it the same amongst the Sith. Compete or die. Mercy is irrelevant. In this final test you will strike down one you are familiar with, for no other reason than to prove you are superior and without mercy. Of course, if Navin should manage to defeat you, he will take your place in the Academy. Do you understand?'

Dustil nodded slowly, not trusting himself to speak without betraying his fear and uncertainty, knowing that any show of weakness now would be fatal. He choked down the bitter bile rising at the back of his throat.

'Good.' Uthar lowered his hand and stepped aside, allowing Navin to pass. Dustil and Navin stared at each other across the frozen acid river, which was slowly beginning to melt. The acrid stench filled the air, reflecting Dustil's inner revulsion at what he was expected to do.

I don't know if I can do this.

He didn't even realize that Yuthura was standing behind him until she spoke.

'If you hesitate you will die,' she said, and Dustil wondered if he was really that transparent or if she was reading his thoughts. 'This is the Sith way, Dustil. You must embrace your anger, open yourself up to your potential, and strike him down.'

Navin edged out onto the stone walkway, and Dustil's newly awakened Force senses staggered under the weight of the boy's fury. He didn't get the chance to think about what he should do, because Navin charged, and Dustil barely had time to ignite his weapon and block the attack.

Lightsaber and vibrosword connected, and Dustil's arm ached as he stood firm under Navin's attack. They traded blows and Dustil was relieved to see that Navin was just as inept with a blade as he was. It wasn't a pretty fight, since both boys were too untrained to be anything other than sloppy, and as they fought it became clear that it was a stalemate. Both backed off, panting. Dustil scrambled to come up with a plan.

Yuthura's annoyed voice rang out. 'Did you not listen to what I told you? Use your anger and call your power!'

Dustil dredged up all of his anger and resentment and pain and fear that had been building inside of him for the last two years since the bombing of Telos, and focused it all on Navin. He struck quicker than he thought possible, and Navin wasn't able to block it. The lightsaber sliced right through his arm, and Dustil almost dropped the lightsaber in shock. Navin fell to his knees with an almost comically surprised look on his face.

'Finish him,' Uthar demanded.

'I- ' Dustil hestitated, uncertain about what to do. Navin cowered in fear, defenseless and howling in pain.

Since he'd come to Korriban, Dustil had done a lot of bad things to get into the Academy, things that had completely gone against everything his mother and father had taught him about honesty, integrity, and trust. He knew his parents would have been disappointed, devastated, and horrified if they knew what he was doing right now.

But they don't know. Father abandoned you, and Mom... she'd understand that I'm doing what I need to survive.

Somehow, that rationalization seemed hollow when facing pudgy thirteen-year-old Navin who was beginning to cry.

Yuthura drew him out of his indecision. 'That's right, Dustil. Your mother would want you to survive and prosper. You want to be strong, don't you? You don't ever want to be helpless again, right?'

Dustil was surprised by the quiet understanding on her voice. It was as though she understood what it was like to be helpless and alone. Her words struck him like a kick in the guts, and memories of the attack on Telos swamped him. With each memory, his fury, which always smoldered underneath the surface, flared into full blown rage.

He remembered how his mother pushed him to safety as a stone wall had collapsed on top of her, crushing her. How he desperately tried to dig her out from under the rubble, while the smoke from the burning buildings stung his eyes and throat, until he could barely see. How he hadn't been strong enough to dig her out on his own, and how he had to leave her alone while he raced to find someone to help him. How he'd been picked up by a Sith patrol, and carried off, despite struggling and thrashing and screaming. And he remembered how, hours later, when he was curled up in the corner of a holding cell, he felt his mother die.

He thought about Selene and Kel, and how he was powerless to protect them. His fear that they could be taken from him unless he took the power Uthar offered, the way his mother and planet had been, fanned his fury. He thought about how he had nowhere else to go, no one else who wanted him. And he looked down at Navin, his only obstacle. Navin who had tried to deny him his chance at power, and his place in the Sith. Dustil's jaw clenched in a hard line and his grip tightened around the cold metal lightsaber.

I never want to be powerless again.

Yuthura's glance flicked over to Navin, while the words echoed in his head. 'So reach out for your anger and strike him down. Join us. Take the power that is rightfully yours.'

Dustil ignored the last shred of his conscience telling him that what he was about to do was wrong.

He lifted his lightsaber; his face was bathed in the bloody red glow of the blade. His voice was unwaivering. 'Yes.'

Opening himself up completely to the dark pulsing power of the temple, he used it to guide his blade. His aim was true, and Dustil ran Navin clean though. And as he looked down at Navin dying, all he felt was an intense relief that he would no longer be powerless and alone.

Uthar held out his hand, smiling, and Dustil took it. 'Welcome to the Academy, young one.'

Behind him, Yuthura murmured, 'Welcome home.'