Shattered Stars (TCW)

Bonus Chapter 5 -- Spirit

"Now that in this way you have been tested, feel you are ready, the Council does, to face what is within," Yoda told Taska as she stood on her new leg in the middle of the Council chamber, her Master not far from her on the left.

"The Trial of Spirit," Master Tiin clarified. "It is a trial that you can complete within the Temple."

* * *

"Do all Padawans go through two stages of the Trial of the Spirit?" Taska asked her Master, trying to tamp down her nerves as they walked down the richly carpeted hallway of the Temple. She tried her hardest not to limp.

"Most do," Master Ti assented. "Not all, though those that don't just have a more difficult time facing their flaws later."

"What do you think my flaws are?" She asked.

Shaak Ti smiled. "Oh, my Padawan, I know you would hate to hear it, just because you are so hard on yourself. I think that will be one you must face. And... well... the other is something that I think I've talked to you about before."

"My heart," Taska said, half-statement, half-question.

"For you, my dear Padawan, compassion has always come easily," Master Ti confirmed. "That is a useful and beautiful quality to have as a Jedi, but it will make avoiding attachment harder. For something that a Jedi must struggle with, you have it easy in some aspects and yet most difficult in others. It depends on how willing you are to cross the line you have set in front of yourself."

"But how do I even know where the line is?"

"Somewhere between justice and devotion. Where, exactly, you must decide for yourself."

Taska furrowed her brows, turning over the statement in her mind. "Well, I do think that I'd rather face that in simulation," she admitted.

* * *

I've been sitting here for what must be hours, Taska thought to herself, focusing even more on her meditative state. Am I doing something wrong?

A voice chuckled. Instead of simple darkness in front of her eyes, Taska now saw a creeping mist, like the one she had read about on Dathomir. "Isn't that a question you always ask?" A lilting voice asked. Her own.

"What do you mean?"

"Ha! Oh, you're so naive. So unsure. It's pathetic," the voice spat. "Always questioning yourself, never the ones that should be questioned."

"Show yourself," Taska demanded.

"Of course," the voice purred dangerously.

What she saw was enough to make her heart race. It was her, her hair and clothes impossibly black, her skin a sickly white.

"Always trying to be better, isn't that you? Mastering one form of lightsaber combat wasn't enough, but neither was not being diplomatic enough to solve a conflict without it at all. Well, take a look," the apparition spread her arms wide. "This is better. I am the best," she bared her teeth.

"No. You're a monster," Taska insisted, still disgusted by this form.

The monster lunged forward, a red blade materializing against the padawan's throat. "You think I don't see into you? I am you. Of course I know you. You're afraid. You're always afraid. And you know what?" She laughed again, yellow eyes burning. "They made you this way! They made you this way. The Jedi are a disease!"

"How dare you!" Taska shoved her away, igniting her own saber. This is only a dream. "The Jedi helped me become everything I am today!"

"And yet you still think you're not good enough? Hm," the other woman pondered calmly as her body twisted through the air to fight Taska.