Hopes

Chapter 1.

Fire flashed in front, carrying danger on its wings. The scarlet blaze of its flames spluttered and hissed as it flew close, the strip of lethal crimson so precisely designed to kill. Its red glow split the darkness surrounding everything, piercing the unlit shadows and banishing them to exile. Its burning heat consumed the coolness in the air, yet never satisfied the chill in the atmosphere.

It crackled and groaned when its fury was frozen by another flame, equally strong and just as hungry. The pair wrestled, struggling for dominance, though neither achieved victory. They were pushed to breaking point, the power and the ferocity of their wrath matched only by that of their wielders. The latter one caved, its owner flexing to evade the former as it was driven into the ground, charring it black with its molten fire. 

The first was dragged across, leaving an ugly scar in the cold terrain before it flared up again. It lingered a moment, glaring viciously, then dove in for the kill, only to be thwarted once more. The second fought hard against its attacker, protecting its keeper with the unique abilities characteristic of its fire. They were tangled in deadlock once again, and a conqueror seemed more a concept than a reality.

Then something shifted. Both noticed it. A clatter followed a rattle, and the first's user was distracted. The second seized the opportunity, bending the fire to his will as the former's flame was twisted, flicked, and ultimately sent flying. It never hit the ground, though, instead obeying the latter's command and landing subserviently in the palm of his hand. 

Then I pushed the crossed blades up to Darth Maul's neck, the echoes of my heavy breathing resonating off the metal walls. My eyes rested on the keen yellow ones that were fixed to me, my every muscle tense and every sense heightened to insane levels. The horns on the Zabrak's red-and-black head were scrunched as he frowned, his chest heaving from the effort. His prosthetic legs creaked in protest of his forced position to kneel, but he reached out with the Force, attempting to circumvent my triumph.

But I knew his intentions before he had enacted them, wrapping the Force around the loose wall panel and preventing him from hurtling it in my direction. He tugged on it, testing my resolve. Upon finding it as solid as the metal room around us, he laughed, drawing back from my deadly hold and getting to his feet.

"Well done!" he praised as I handed his unignited lightsaber to him. "I thought I had you at the end. Then you slipped through my fingers, locked me tight again, and ripped a panel off the wall! You had me distracted, that's for sure." He clapped me on the back, then sauntered from the metal box that was our training room.

I dipped my head in thanks of his commendation, clipping to my belt the black-hilted saber he had gifted me upon my juxtaposition into his life. Following him from the room, I walked through the hall, oblivious to the familiar sights of blinking white and red lights and high-definition monitors built into the sloping walls. A faint red glow from under the grating at our feet reflected off the black ceiling above, emanating a close but vaguely eerie feel.

"You're getting stronger," Maul continued, pleasure colouring his smooth voice. "You're now able to break pieces off that supposedly-bombproof room. I'm impressed."

Again, I dipped my head, readjusting the folds on my black tunic. 

Maul caught my fussing, glancing back as I walked behind him. But he had no comment to add, indicating that my garb attained the level of perfection he demanded.

His gloved fingers whisked over the access panel, typing in a complicated combination, then the thick trapezoidal mouth opened, allowing us entry to the main control room. Maul stalked inside, then pointed to my place: by the door, in a shallow alcove with a wall at my back. "Stand there."