𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐌𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 - 𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐤𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐬

𝐒𝐈𝐗𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍 ⸺ 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟.

𝑨𝑼𝑻𝑯𝑶𝑹'𝑺 𝑵𝑶𝑻𝑬 ────────────
(Update from 09/18/21) A chapter that was already 4256 words is now 5272, it's probably the longest chapter in the whole fiction. I suggest either reading it little by little or making sure you have the time to read it thoroughly, because a lot of things have changed in it since the first version! If you happen to be a reader that has already gone through the first version of the chapter, don't hesitate to read it again ;)
And for the rest, enjoy your reading<3

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Unknown time. Unknown year.
Unknown Location.

⸺ VÆMAS.

⚡︎ ⁺.  ◍ 。

            𝓣HE HEADACHE WAS so painfully intense that it took a few minutes for Væmas only to open her eyes. Her surroundings were blurry, everything was spinning. Hard, cold metal was pressed against her cheek and body as she rose her head slowly, pressing a hand to it, at first hearing nothing but the blood pounding.

She managed to sit up, pressing her palms into her eyelids to make the room stop spinning, her memories blurring together, unfolding behind her eyes so quickly that nausea told hold of her.

Deep breaths. A masculine voice ordered gently in her head, that she had trouble recognizing. Don't leave your eyes shut. Focus on something, a detail on the floor.

Mechanically reacting, Væmas opened her eyes and concentrated her gaze on a line in the metal floor, forcing herself to take equals breaths until the nausea faded away and her surroundings stabilized.

Thank you, Master.

She took in the width of the room as she tilted her head to look around, slowly rising to her feet, shaking her head against the dizziness that seized her. Only a piercing pain in her neck remained, making her raise a hand to it. At that, her memories flashed back in front of her eyes. The chair. Kydrillo telling her about his plan to lure Cal and the holocron wherever she was. The needle sinking in her neck. And after that, nothing but darkness.

The room around her was predominated by grey and red, plunged in semi-obscurity. Behind her, orange gas escaped throughs grills on the floor, going up to the ceiling and concealing whatever was behind. On the other side, a large door, and on the walls, imperial flags. In a way, it was similar to the dojo back in the Jedi Temple, in a dark and twisted way.

The second she spotted the door, Væmas stumbled towards it, a hand clasped on her neck which burned more and more by the second. The doors hissed open at her approach, pitch blackness waiting inside. The first step through them brought her back in the exact same room, this time the orange smoke facing her.

Væmas turned back, her mouth forming silent words of confusion as her hand slowly lowered from her neck, and whirled around to try the door again, but still entered the same room. She then decided to get through the orange gas, praying that he would not be poisoned. The Empire could not just lock in the room forever, or in the same rooms that followed each-other. As she took her first step towards the smoke, she suddenly heard a high-pitched laugh, coming from every direction at a time and making her freeze right there and then.

"Who's there?" She called out, her hands coming to lay on her lightsabers. The contact of the cold metal made her sway her head down, her jaw slightly dropping. She could have sworn her weapons were not on her belt a second earlier.