His Guiding Star (Obi-Wan Kenobi)

Chapter Eight

Talia Desafio was Verräter's right hand woman. His dear apprentice, his Shadow. He respected her as his equal, his greatest ally.

"You and I will rule together," he'd promised her once. "We'll have the galaxy at our feet, my apprentice."

Looking into her lover's green eyes, Talia wondered, not for the first time, if she'd made a mistake in trusting him. Her mother's words...

She felt Verräter's hand on her shoulder, his mouth coming close to her ear, his voice soft.

"Kill him."

A cold shiver ran down her spine. The child in her strove to obey, to do anything to please him, the man who had saved her from the streets. Her entire soul wanted to throw it all in his face. So what if he'd caught them together? She wasn't a pawn or a puppet! She wasn't born to be controlled, to be a Shadow. She wasn't what he'd made her.

Milo's eyes were fixed on her, pleading.

Talia considered resisting, injuring Milo just enough to escape her master's notice. Later, they would meet, she would tend to his injury, and then they would slip away into the shadows, never to be seen again. They would be hidden and hunted, but they would be together. They could do it, she knew they could. It was in her name. Desafio. Defiance.

But what about Zoe and Theo? She couldn't leave them. Not in his hands.

"Talia..."

"Only I accept you as you are, my Shadow. I have seen you at your darkest, and I will never turn away," Verräter murmured, his hand ever so gentle on her shoulder. "Do you think he will do the same?"

Love was a weakness among the Sith. Verräter claimed it would limit her power, it would make her want to become something she wasn't. Why strive for the light when you could be so beautifully dark?

She drew her lightsaber, hearing the hum of the deep red blade, the solid feel of it in her hands. For Zoe and Theo then.

Form five. Djem So. An aggressive form, which involved overpowering an opponent with strength, and therefore the most physically demanding of all.

"I'm sorry, Milo."

She lunged for him, their blades clashing as they began to fight, her heart breaking with every strike, seeing the betrayal in his eyes. Verräter wouldn't want her to prolong the fight though. She had to end it, and soon. She felt his betrayal and hurt shift into anger as he forced her into a defensive form, that dark fury building within him, his strikes growing more aggressive, more forceful.

Talia could feel Verräter's brown eyes on her, watching her with a dark, predatory hunger that seemed almost ancient. Eyes so dark they were almost black. She could feel the primal greed within him, for power, for possession, for her undying loyalty.

Taking advantage of her distraction, Milo lashed out, his lightsaber slashing into her midriff, opening a cruel wound there. Talia screamed at the impact, a raw cry ripping at her throat like the claws of some desperate beast. She stumbled back, falling to one knee, pressing her hand against the wound...and yet no blood seeped from it, and the pain faded within an instant.

Oh, Force.

This was bad.

She could feel the hurt and betrayal settling down in her soul, in her already fractured heart, but could not bring herself to feel bad for it. Not now. She was a soldier, after all.

She got to her feet again, twirling the lightsaber around her hands as she moved once more to attack him with Djem So, suave and swift and silent as a shadow.