Blood Of Revan Book 3: Disturbance

C5- Smoke and Mirrors

Satele sat up abruptly. "Jace?!" she cried out. No reply. "Jace?!?!" her breath quickened. She flung open her tent flap and crawled out. "Jace?" Satele cried out again. Jace was no where to be seen. "Master Darach?" she called. No reply. Her heart beat quickened by the second.

A snap of a twig followed by a couple of rocks sputtering to her left.

Another snap of a twig to her right. The air became thick. She coughed.

A rolling stone rolled from behind a rock, and it landed in front of her. She slowly picked it up and with trembling fingers, turned it over. In red letters it was written help. Her hands became as red as the letters and everything turned black. Thick grey and black smoke surrounded her, ate her, covered her. She yelled out to no one. All she heard was the thick smoke whirling around her.

"I get it, okay! Enough with these visions!" she cried. Nothing happened. "ENOUGH! Please!" she cried out, extremely loud. The whirling stopped and she was dropped down to the dusty floor. "Who ever this is, giving me these- these- nightmares! Please! Wake me up! I understand it!"

A deep voice filled the air. Satele was too weak to lift her head. "You do not understand. You will never understand unless you listen," They drew the last word out. "No, no! Make it stop!"

"The pull to the other side... It is calling you," "I won't listen! I'll never be like you! Twisted, evil and corrupt!" Satele was screaming. She lifted her head. The black smoke was still swirling around her, but it wasn't as loud and it was at least 10 feet away from her. She stood up, but she was weak. She collapsed. "I won't listen." she repeated over again.

"You will learn to listen to what is right for you!" The voice boomed and she awoke.

Sweating from head to toe, sweat dripping off of her face onto her pillows and blanket, barely able to breathe. It felt so good to have normal air in her lungs, and not compressed, thick, and smokey air that made her choke. A single tear ran down her dirty, sweaty cheek.

She was the tear, lost in a giant place of corrupt people. And however much the tear ran along the dirt and sweat, it did not join it. It did not change. It was as clear and crystal white as when it left her pretty eye. She would not change. She would not bend. Even if the pull to the dark side was a hundred times stronger on this planet than any other.

She would stay strong in the force.
She would persevere in the force.

The tear dripped off her cheek and onto the floor.

It was gone.