Knights of the Old Republic: Dark Forces, Chapter Eight

(Author's Note: Sorry about the delays guys, I've actually started getting these things beta read, so it's slowed the process down a bit.  That said, I can't thank my new beta reader enough, and I hope she'll stick with me for the rest of this story.  Hope you enjoy)

KNIGHTS OF THE OLD REPUBLIC 

DARK FORCES 

CHAPTER EIGHT 

Screams erupted from the patients and doctors in the medical bay as Bastila quickly activated her double-bladed sabre. She threw her blade up to meet the Sith creature's attack, the two beams of light crashing against each other with a shriek of protest.  It seemed undisturbed that she had met its blow and immediately swung again, this time at her side. She parried the attack and met another and another.  She ducked quickly as the thing slashed at her neck and, catching the figure off guard, arched her leg back and kicked it in the chest letting the force strengthen the blow.  It smashed against a cabinet and let out a hiss of anger.  At least it feels pain, Bastila thought to herself; that's something at least.  It hadn't seemed to slow it down however; immediately it swept toward her and unleashed a volley of strikes.  The red sabre blurred before her eyes as she fought to batter away the heavy blows.  Bastila parried them away desperately, feeling herself being driven back step by step.  Without warning it dropped the attack and lifted its hand.  Bastila was pushed back into the wall with such force that her hand trembled. She fumbled with her lightsaber but couldn't hold it.  It clattered to the floor, the sabre shutting off with a sharp hiss.  The Sith creature floated toward her, sabre in hand. 

Canderous aimed his repeating blaster, "Go to hell!" he bellowed, squeezing the trigger. A volley of white blaster fire erupted from the weapon, barrelling into the creature's chest. It screamed in protest just as Bastila charged forward, her reclaimed sabre in hand, and drove the yellow blade through its stomach. It looked down in disbelief at the object sticking through its gut before sliding off with a gurgling sigh.

Bastila kneeled over, breathing heavily. 

"Well that was fun," Canderous said roughly. He glanced at Bastila casually, "You alright?" 

"Yes, surprisingly. That was certainly an experience I've not faced before," she murmured, eyeing the crumpled corpse. 

"What the hell is it?" He asked, dropping to his knees and reaching out to the body. 

"I have no idea," Bastila murmured, also searching the body, "but whatever it is, I don't like it." "

It's a little hard to like it when the thing has no eyes,” Canderous observed, running his fingers over the mutilated face.  "You think it's Sith?" 

"Not like any Sith I've ever seen.  This is something new entirely."

Bastila looked up from her study of the corpse to see Carth and the Exile running toward them, pushing through the frightened crowd. 

"Are you two alright?" Carth asked as he finally reached them, "Security told us there'd been an attack." 

"Fortunately we're fine, thank you Carth."  Bastila said, trying to sound calm and collected.   "However, our attacker was not as fortunate." 

During the exchange, the Exile had dropped to his and was examining the body. 

"Do you recognise it?" Canderous asked 

"It's not like anything I've ever seen," he replied, running his hands through the creature's clothing, searching through the folds for any concealed items. 

"It seems human, but there are some small physical differences."  He turned the creature over and prodded its chest.  "It has two hearts for starters." 

"What?" Carth demanded, dropping to his knees and staring at the corpse with fascination. 

"You can feel the extended space in the rib cage," the Exile commented, pulling out a utility knife from his belt and began to cut into the rough black material of the shirt. 

"We should be able to get a better look at it if we-" He stopped mid-sentence.  At first he thought there was some sort of disease on the skin of the corpse, like the marks left from Genovian Plague. 

"Is that-" Carth began 

"Writing," the Exile finished, examining the body closer.  The bare flesh he had exposed was covered in line after line of a spidery script, etched in ink on his chest.   

"It's all over his body," the Exile said, cutting through more of its clothing.  "Can anyone read it?"  

"I'm not familiar with it," Bastila commented, "It is not a language that I ever studied during my training."

"You two?" The Exile asked.  Both Canderous and Carth shook their heads. 

The Exile stood up, his hand to his mouth as he stared at the body.  "You have a secure morgue, I assume?"  He asked Carth. 

"Of course," Carth replied 

"Alright then, we have to move this, and have guards protecting it.  I don't want anyone to have access to it; that includes the TSF.  I want to scan the corpse, so I'll need equipment too." 

"What help is scanning it going to do?" Canderous growled. "I'll bet all the credits in my pocket that no one in the Republic will know this." 

"I'd rather take it to her as a datapad rather than hefting the entire corpse with me," the Exile mused to himself.  

"Take it to who?" 

"Atris." 

*     *     * 

Mandalore drew back his leg and kicked the solid metal door leading to the Telos Academy.  The metal squealed at the blow before the door collapsed inwards, revealing a darkened maw before them. 

"Looks like a cheery place," Carth observed, his breath steaming in the cold air, "I hope it's warmer in there than it is out here." 

"Doesn't seem likely," the Exile commented, "I'd hazard a guess that the power to this place has been cut." 

"I can only sense a faint flicker of life from within," Bastila whispered, "and it doesn't seem to be entirely human." 

"That could be Atris," the Exile murmured, pulling a set of glowsticks from his fur-lined jacket.  "Or it could be something else.  Either way, we won't know until we find it." 

"Lead the way then, Jedi," Mandalore growled, lighting up his own glowstick.  "Going searching in the dark for a crazy ex-Jedi doesn't seem like my kind of work." 

“Your support is touching," the Exile murmured dryly before plunging into the darkness and disappearing.   

*     *     * 

The surfaces of Atris's academy sparkled as the light fell upon it.  Everything was dark, with only faint blue light seeping through the skylights to illuminate the place.  The breath of the four figures rose like clouds of smoke in the night.  Everything was still and cold, untouched and frozen in place. 

They moved silently through the academy until they reached the council chamber.  Their lights illuminated the huddled white figures on the floor, Atris's handmaidens, perfectly preserved in the cold, their pale skin and empty blue eyes gleaming in the light. 

"Oh my god," the Exile said softly as he gazed across the room, "she didn't even move them - just left them here." 

"I didn't know you were a religious man," Mandalore murmured at the reference. 

"More a turn of phrase if anything, Mandalore.  But then what are the teachings of the Jedi and the Sith, but a faith in a higher purpose?" The Exile asked quietly, still staring at the women who littered the floor. 

"That's the first time I've heard a Jedi admit that," Mandalore said, shooting Bastila a glance. 

The Exile turned his head to look at him, "You forget that I'm no longer a Jedi."   

"What happened here?" Carth demanded, his blaster aimed warily. 

"I happened," the Exile murmured.  He threaded his way across the room, unclipping his lightsaber as he went.  "I need you all to stay here.  I have to talk to Atris alone." 

"She might not be alone," Bastila protested, "You should have help, just in case." 

"I've got this.  Trust me." 

The Exile stepped up to the heavy black door and waited.  After a few moments it shuddered and began to move.  He ducked under the still moving door and headed across the causeway.  His feet splashed in the puddles of water at his continued his journey.  The door behind him slammed shut suddenly, echoing throughout the cavernous room. 

"Well, that's comforting," The Exile murmured, gripping his lightsaber firmly.  He finally reached the door to Atris’s chambers.  He stared at the door for a moment before raising his left hand and knocking.   

The door slid open, a blast of red light and heat hitting the Exile.  He raised his arms to his face and stepped through. 

*     *     *  

A throbbing beat paced through the chamber, the throb running through the Exile's body.  The red light emitted from the shelves of Sith Holocrons, and brought with it a terrible heat, making columns of steam float from the ground.  In the centre of the chamber a tall figure stood, garbed in black, facing the holocrons like a witness before a jury.   

"Atris?" The Exile asked cautiously. 

She did not move for a moment.  The steady beat vanished instantly.  Slowly, Atris turned and stepped toward him.  The white robes he had last seen her in were gone, replaced with garments of clinging black.  Everything that had been white about her had been replaced with sultry black; her raven black hair swung down around her shoulders. 

"I didn't think you would return," she said as she moved to him. 

"What the hell have you done to yourself?" the Exile demanded as she moved closer. 

"I thought it was time for a change," she murmured lightly, spinning around on the spot.   "You like it?" 

"Don't play games with me, Atris," the Exile said sharply, "this change isn't natural.  How did you do it?" 

"You don't like it," she pouted at him, then grinned.  "Maybe I can change that?" 

The Exile stormed forward and grabbed Atris by the shoulders.  "What the hell has happened to you?" 

"You're hurting me," she grinned, "I like that." 

The Exile pushed her aside, raking his eyes over the rows of Sith Holocrons.   "What have they done to you?" 

"What you did to me, Exile," Atris corrected him, a dangerous tone creeping into her voice.  "You left me at their mercy if you recall." 

"I didn't have time for you Atris," he said harshly, "I was too busy trying to save the galaxy from a mess you helped create." 

"Still willing to blame everyone but yourself, Exile.  One day you'll realize that you were just as much at fault in this as I was." 

"Not like you.  Not by choice." 

"You had a choice," Atris said, moving closer to him, "you chose to leave me behind.  Not out of time, but of spite.  You wanted me to die." 

"No," the Exile said sharply, "I didn't want you to die; I knew these things wouldn't kill you." 

"But you wanted me to suffer." 

"Yes." 

Atris smiled at him.  "Now you speak the truth." "

I'm not going to let this happen, Atris." 

"It's already happened," she replied, taking a final step forward.  She looked up at him, reached forward and touched his face.  "It's too late for me." 

"What's happening to you Atris?"Atris's empty eyes flickered with fear as she glanced from the Exile to the row of holocrons.  She returned her eyes to him, the fear fading instantly.  Dimly the Exile recognized a hunger forming in her eyes.  He felt her small hands slip around his shoulders and slip his battered cloak off from around him. 

"Did you ever wonder, what would have happened if you'd stayed?" 

"Sometimes," he admitted, dazed, taken aback by what she was doing.  Something in the back of his mind was shouting at him. 

"But I couldn't wait for you to make up your mind." 

"I've made up my mind now," she whispered, slipping one hand inside his tunic and running the other along his arm. 

"It's too late." Atris's eyes flashed with anger as she pulled her hand from him.  With a surging blast she knocked him off his feet, the weight of the force crushing him down onto the floor.  He could barely breathe, let alone struggle, as Atris straddled him, her face full of rage. 

"This will not be denied to me," she hissed.  "I can feel your lust, coursing through you."

The Exile summoned his strength and pushed outwards with the force, channelling it into Atris.  She flew backwards, collapsing on the ground a few metres away.  He dimly noted the red light dancing around the chamber, the throbbing beat in the air, fuelling his anger and the burning need within him.  Striding forward, he grabbed Atris by the throat and dragged her to the wall.  He slammed her against it, pushed himself up close to her and stroked her hair.  The screaming part of him was drowned out by the surging of the holocrons. 

"Is this what you want?" he growled, his hand still at her throat. 

Her eyes glinted wickedly as she grabbed him, spun him round and pushed him against the wall. "This is what I want."  

She pulled him to her and kissed him.  There was no softness in it, only passion and rage.  The Exile pushed back, struggling for domination, struggling to force through her anger to what lay beneath.  He wanted to find it and break it.    

The holocrons 

The voice that had been screaming in his mind suddenly became clear.  He ignored it, pushed forward again, prodded her mind.  There it was, beneath the hatred and lust.  It was... 

That holocron 

The Exile's eyes snapped open.  He pulled Atris aside with his left hand, raised his right and pointed it at the glowing holocron across the room.  He let the force surge through him, felt its power and brought it to bear on the holocron.  Whipping beams of force lightning lashed the metal square.  The other holocrons in the room went black, but the single holocron grew brighter still, the glowing red becoming a harsh glare.  It pushed back at him angrily.  The Exile could feel the sweat forming on his brow.  He took a step backwards.Another bolt of lightning joined his.  He turned his head to see Atris, tall and strong, hands out stretched, blasting the holocron with the power of the force.  The holocrons attack eased.  The Exile brought both hands up. 

Lightning racing around it, the harsh red light of the holocron began to die.  Atris and the Exile held there attack.  It let out a feeble, distorted sigh before finally succumbing to the darkness.  

The room fell silent as the Exile collapsed backwards into the wall.  He pulled in a shuddering breath as Atris knelt down to him. 

"I am so sorry," she forced out between breathing. 

"It's okay," the Exile murmured, "though I wouldn't want to do that again.  I think the one time was enough." 

"Yes." 

"What was that?" the Exile asked, staring over at the smoking holocron.  "It's not like any holocron I've ever seen." 

"It's not," Atris replied, "it's something different.  It's not the same as the others; even the language inscribed on it is different.  I- I was working on translating it."  T

he Exile lifted up his hand and used the force to pull his cloak toward him.  He reached into the inside pocket and withdrew the datapad. 

"Wouldn't look anything like this would it?"

Atris's eyes widened as she glanced over the screen, "Where did you get this?" 

"I'll take that as a yes.  Can you read it?" 

Atris looked at him for a moment.  "Give me some time." 

*     *     * 

"He's been in there for too long," Carth stated loudly.  

"I can't sense anything from inside," Bastila said, her eyes closed.  "Something’s blocking me." 

"Don't worry about him," Mandalore said, "he's defeated her once already; he'll have no problem doing it again.  I told him he should have just killed her and have done with it." 

"You haven't changed at all, Canderous." 

"Mandalore!"

 "Oh," Carth said, in mock recognition of Canderous.

"Enough, the pair of you," Bastila said sharply. "Your arguing is pointless." 

"It's great to be travelling with the pair of you again," Mandalore grumbled. 

Carth let out a frustrated growl. "We have to go get him.  Now."

"You're gonna have to trust him.  You've no idea what he's capable of."

Carth ignored his words, and marched steadily out of the room and across the causeway to Atris's chamber.  Once he finally reached the door, he took a quick breath and reached out his hand to the door controls. 

The door sprung open before he could press the button, revealing the Exile struggling with a woman he held firmly in his arms.  Carth quickly stepped forward and took the woman from him before glancing again at the fallen Jedi again.  He looked like hell; soaked with blood and water, bruised and battered but very much alive.  And the look in his eyes; it was a look that Carth had only seen before on Revan.  He realized that something of great importance had happened to him while he had been in the chamber.  But unlike Revan, Carth realized that this change was one for the better.  

"You look terrible," Carth said simply as the pair moved slowly across the causeway.   "Looks like she gave you a run for your credits."  

"If you only knew," the Exile said dryly. 

“Does she know anything?” Carth asked in a hurried whisper, as Canderous and Bastila came running toward them. The Exile gave him a warning look before Bastila and Canderous finally reached them.  Carth sighed wearily to himself as he passed the now unconscious Atris over to Canderous and Bastila.   

*   *   * 

The Exile stepped quietly into the hospital room, examining Atton with a small smile. 

"You're going to have to adjust to the feeling of the arm," a young woman was telling him. 

"Yeah, don't worry about me, I got it," Atton said, flashing her a disarming grin.  "I never got your name by the way.  I'm Captain Atton Rand." 

"Nice to meet you Captain," the healer said with a smile before sliding away from him.   "And I'm going."

She gave the Exile a small nod before leaving the room.  

"Captain Atton Rand?" the Exile asked as he sat down next to him 

"What?" Atton demanded, "I had a friend during the Mandalorian Wars, always introduced himself as 'captain’.  Humans, and a fair number of aliens let me tell you, fell into bed with him every time he used it." 

"Thank you for that rambling justification of your own insecurities," the Exile said, eyebrows raised. 

"Hey, being stuck in this bed has its perks," Atton said, flexing his new arm slightly.   "Something about beautiful women in uniform." 

"How's the arm feel?"  

Atton dropped his gaze away from the Exile.  "It feels fine," he said quietly "I can't really tell that it's not real to be honest." 

"They've come a long way.  The Mandalorian Wars, most of the time they couldn't be replaced.  Except Bao-dur of course." 

"I remember," Atton mumbled.  The Exile examined him closely, watching his eyes.  They were unfocused, vague.  It was a look he had recognized on his own face. Atton’s head snapped up, his eyes instantly alert again, "Sorry about that," he said cheerily, "the sedatives are still wearing on me."  He stretched back and picked a small, pinkish fruit from a bowl beside his bed.  "So what's the plan, oh fearless leader?" He asked around a mouthful of fruit flesh and juice.  "War's over now; we gonna live off the Republic’s generous reward for saving their asses?" 

"Hardly over," the Exile said tartly, stealing a fruit from the bowl.  "And the Republic’s not giving you a dime, believe me.  They've handled this whole thing with the grace of a Rancor in a china shop; they're not gonna give you money for demonstrating that they can't look after themselves." 

"It was a long shot anyway," Atton shrugged, mouth still full.  "And I didn't really expect to retire anyway.  You're got plans for us all I assume?" 

"I do." 

"Well sorry to say, I'm not interested in sitting on my ass in the Jedi Council chambers," Atton stated, "I mean, I know you'd want the best sitting on your council and all that, but it's really not my thing." 

“That's not your place, Atton," the Exile said, shaking his head.  "It's gonna take a lot of field work to pull the Jedi back together; I'm talking long missions, high pay and as much freedom as you want." 

“Sounds like my kind of work," Atton said with a grin.  "Isn't very Jedi-like though." "

I'm creating the Jedi with my own hands," the Exile said roughly, "and I don't give a damn about the old traditions of the Jedi.  We've gotta do what we can to survive." "

Then you've come to the right man." 

"I know." The Exile was silent for a moment before getting to his feet, "Sorry to cut things short Atton but I've got a lot of work to do." 

"Somehow I knew you would," Atton said, rolling his eyes.The Exile looked down at him before grasping his hand.  

"Look after yourself, okay Atton?" he said simply.  "I'm not gonna be around to save you all the time." 

"Very funny," Atton said, pushing him away slightly.  "Go on, get out of here, you're cramping my style." 

"Is that what you call it?" The Exile said before striding away.  Before he reached the door, he said, "You can't tell it's not real, Atton.  She won't even notice."

Atton didn't say anything for a moment before mumbling, "Thanks.”  He looked up suddenly, and demanded, “Hey, where are you going?" he called out as the Exile moved away.

"To see a girl." 

*   *   * 

Brianna focused on her hand as she slowly moved it across her plane of vision.  Stretching her arm to its full extent, she continued to focus on the exercise despite the slow burn that was beginning to creep through her stretched muscles.  She closed her eyes as she moved brought her other arm up, outstretching both until they were perfectly balanced.  Slowly she brought her leg up, extending it fully, balancing her weight on her left foot.
 
A light tap on the door broke Brianna’s concentration with such force that she almost toppled over.  Quickly regaining her balance, she moved to the door and tapped the door control. 
 
“I hope I’m not interrupting,” the Exile said quietly.
Brianna was suddenly aware of the obvious signs of her work out, “Of course not,” she said quickly, returning back inside and motioning him to follow.  “What did you need to speak to me about?”
 
The Exile took a seat at the table, “Nothing specific,” he said as Brianna swept her mother’s old robe off her bed and pulled it on.  “I just wanted to see you.  You’ve been hidden away in here since we landed.” 
 
“I thought it best if I were to leave you alone,” Brianna said plainly, taking a seat next to him.  “You had a lot to focus on.”
 
“Atris is here,” the Exile said suddenly.  “I’m sorry, but I needed any help she could offer.  I thought perhaps she could decode the Sith tattoos.”   
 
“Could she?”
 
The Exile looked steadily at her.  “No,” he said simply, bowing his head.  “She didn’t know anything.”
 
A small flicker of satisfaction surged through Brianna, to be replaced immediately by guilt.  She could not let her personal feelings cloud her judgement. 
 
“I’m sorry I haven’t seen you since the Hawk,” the Exile said, still looking at the ground.  “I’ve pushed you aside too many times during our travels; this shouldn’t be one of those times.”
 
“I don’t understand.”
 
“Yes you do.” 
 
The Exile got up from his chair, and moved to the large window overlooking Citadel Station. 
 
“Things are changing Brianna,” the Exile said, not turning to look at her.  “There are dark forces at work and they’re gonna rain fire down on the galaxy.”
 
“We’ve faced it before,” Brianna said to him
 
“No we haven’t.  This is new; all of it’s new.  We’re facing unknown enemies, fighting in a way I’ve never seen.  Everything’s twisted, more powerful; more deadly.  That holocron was like nothing I’ve ever seen before.”
 
“What holocron?” Brianna asked in surprise. 

The Exile turned and surveyed her for a moment; finally he began to tell her everything.
 
“I see,” Brianna said quietly once he’d finished.
 
“I’m so sorry,” the Exile said, remaining frozen at the window. 
 
“I don’t matter Exile,” she replied.  “I’ve known since before I joined you that Atris and yourself had a complicated past.  You must resolve your past before you can face the future.”   
 
“I’m sorry if I hurt you.”
 
“I’m fine Exile,” Brianna said with a forced smile, “but thank you for saying it.”
 
“I’m not sure where to begin,” he admitted finally.
 
“You could try looking at me.”
 
He jumped slightly, as if she’d only just arrived.  He sat down next to her.
“I’m not sure what we have here,” he said quietly, “we’ve never even had the chance to talk about it.”
 
“The field of battle does not promote such conversation it seems,” Brianna said with a small smile.
 
“I would like to tell you what I’m feeling; but I honestly don’t know.”
 
“I don’t understand.”
 
The Exile let out a sigh before beginning, his eyes taking on a distant look.  “I lost more than just the force on Malachor,” he began.  “I lost everything.  I lost myself.  I wasn’t that person anymore, that person who pushed the button.  I couldn’t be that person.  And so, I didn’t know who I was.  That’s why I returned to the Jedi.  Not for judgement, or remorse, or defiance; I needed them to make me into something.
“And so they did.  They gave me a name; ‘Exile’.  And it was from that, that I remade myself.  Only slowly, have I come to terms with things I’ve done but emotion was not something I remade.  I have never loved as the Exile.”
 
“We are all wounded, Exile,” Brianna said to him.  “But wounds heal.  As you will heal.”
 
The Exile said nothing but, slowly, his hand enclosed around Brianna’s own.  

*     *     * 

It was early in the morning by the time the Exile finally left Brianna’s apartment.  He left her with a kiss, a tender kiss that betrayed all his plans.  It was a farewell; he would not be coming back.  He could not tell her himself; Brianna knew it would kill him to try, but the small moment they shared told her all she needed to know.  She would not follow him.  He had made his choice, and she trusted in his decision.  With a last look at him, she had stepped away and closed the door.
 
“How much you look like your father,” a voice said from behind her.
 
She instantly took up a defensive position, her eyes seeking out the source of the words.  At the table stood her mother, a caring smile about her face, gazing at her daughter with love. 
 
“Mother,” she whispered. 
 
“I’m here sweetheart,” she said comfortingly.
 
The brief moment of wonder and comfort died for Brianna, to be replaced by fear.  “You’re not my mother.  Who are you?”
 
“Has it been so long that you don’t recognise me?” She said with a smile, moving around the table, her hand trailing along the top.  “You were very young when I died.”  

Brianna summoned the force and pulled her lightsaber to her hand.  The blue blade snapped on.  “Who are you?” she demanded.
 
“You have found the force,” she said, an edge of despair in her voice.  “Did he train you?  The Exile?”
Brianna could not help herself; the warm, comforting voice of her mother crumbled her defences.  “Yes,” she answered, her voice trembling.
 
“Don’t be scared Brianna,” her mother said, hearing the fear in her voice.  “I don’t have much time, and I must give you a warning.”
 
“What is it?”
 
“It is the Exile,” she said, suddenly nervous.  Brianna watched as she tugged on the small band of gold on her finger, pulling it off and placing it on the table.  “He is dangerous.  I’ve have seen the path he treads, and he will bring pain and death to all those who follow him.  He will bring it to you.”
 
“That is not true,” Brianna said defiantly, her senses returning.  She raised her lightsaber again.  “He is a good man; he walks the path of the light.”
 
“He will not seek to harm you,” her mother replied desperately.  “But you must understand; if he continues on his path, death is drawn to him.  Everywhere he goes, there will only be pain.  It is the nature of men such as him; as it was with your father.”
 
Brianna’s heart jolted at the memory of her father.  She could not help but to think of her father, and the Exile, and how similar they were.  “What should I do?” she said finally
 
“You cannot let him leave.  If he is to travel to the Unknown Regions, if he is to find Revan, it will lead to disaster.  You cannot let him go.”
With a trembling hand, Brianna shut off her lightsaber.  She moved slowly, uncertainly, to the table her mother stood at.  Suddenly she felt her strength give way, and she collapsed into a chair.
 
“I cannot stop him,” she said finally

“You can; you must.  Take him away from here, take him somewhere quiet and convince him to stay.  Use his love for you to keep him from making a terrible mistake.”
 
“I will not do it!” she shouted at her mother.  “You are wrong!  You must be wrong!”
With that outburst she dropped her head into her arms, hiding her eyes in darkness.  Her mother said nothing for a moment, but Brianna felt her arms embrace her hidden form.
 
“I love you Brianna,” she whispered.  “But you must wake up.” 

*     *     * 

Brianna’s eyes snapped open, her head jerking up off the table.  She blinked in confusion, unsure of where she was or what had happened.  She realized that the apartment was empty and she was alone.  It had not happened; it had been a dream.  She remembered now, the Exile leaving and her return to the table.  She must have fallen asleep.  She felt a sudden surge of despair, as she realized she had not seen her mother at all.  Feeling tears well up in her eyes; Brianna tried to fight them down but could not.  As her eyes began to blur she realised there was something on the table.  She stretched out a trembling hand and closed her fingers around the small object. 
 
Wiping her eyes with her free hand, she focused her eyes on the object.  A small gold ring lay in the palm of her hand.