Before - Legends "Human heritage" (The ancient conflict between the dark side & the light side of the Force)

Adding just a little bit of potion will do Grianán no harm. She would only get sick, but it would not be fatal.

Oh yes, being sick isn't harmful at all.
Jerk


There would be no maiming and no acts of real torture. She is too precious to me for that. Unfortunately, there will have to be many tears before she accepts her fate.

THERE IS SOMETHING VERY WRONG WITH HIM.

 

I've been raised to believe that there are some things that you just shouldn't dabble in since it is dangerous and/or invites evil spirits. For these reasons alone is why we were strictly forbidden not to use tarot cards and Ouija boards. And those that can channel spirits are either frauds or getting their information from evil spirits.

And I do believe that there are some things in this world that if you do them invite evil in.

 

@Darth_Furio: As I said before, this story is from Luciens point of view. Which is clouded by the dark side. Grianán showed us in her story, that she "felt different" about the entire affair:


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Valiant made no attempt to mask his feelings when we met up. “Take at least my scimitar to defend yourself!” he begged and held the weapon in front of him.

“That will not be necessary!”

“They say that Ischáh, the Great Snake, has sacrificed parts of herself to create Draconis. In her wake, your ancestors practised humanoid sacrifice, believing it necessary for the world to continue.”

“I am ready. There will not be another chance like this. The fox hunt was just a manoeuvre of his to get Draň away from here.”

“Why do you still want to be the teacher of his heart? It is a greater waste land than the erg.”

“The desert is more alive than the people give it credit for.”

“Go on then,” he said in a sorrowful voice. “Perhaps your madness can protect you. The desert can be generous with a lost wanderer.”

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A lonely basket-hilted sword hung above the bedroom door like a trophy. I gave the heavy military weapon a thoughtful look. It was definitely of Elfin origin. “I wonder where you came from and who had the honour to own you last,” I muttered to myself, looking up to it. The fleeing afternoon light stroked lazily over the steel surface.

In the end I decided that it was a cold case, not worth my limited time. There was other evidence I was looking for.

My palmsand fingertips glided over surfaces, touching various objects to learn secrets no one in my family was aware of.

After gathering blueprints in the Force for a while, I felt sorry for Draň. Two persons existed in his chest. They acted independently from one another and both loved my sister; one tenderly and one violently.

At least Luçien and I shared the same belief. We both believed in the healing power of love. He just had a very skewed view of it.

I shook in worried anticipation as I stood in front of the martial bed. It was a canopied, curtained one, typical for the period in which Dún Barr had been conquered by my ancestors.

My hands cupped around the polished wood and I closed my eyes for better concentration. I was almost immediately assaulted by the echoes of the past.

The nervousness of Caelestris washed over me. I could not block it out while I lay helplessly under the bed.

Under no circumstances was my master to find me right now. I tried hard to cloak myself, to be invisible for Luçien. There was no way of telling how far he would go to hide his actions here.

Caelestris yawned. It was a heartbreaking sound.

An uncomfortable silence followed, which was broken by the flustered voice of Luçien. “I cannot believe that you did it again, Draň! Control yourself! First you need me on your wedding night and now this!”

“But I love being artistic on her perfect skin.”

I clutched my left hand against my trembling mouth. Luçien had manipulated poor Caelestris into marrying a sadist, just to restore his honour for the death of Gwenynen and Sereno. I felt like screaming in agony at him. What was he thinking?

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Aunt Adamah screamed like a banshee, forcing me back into the present. Her warning from the spirit world saved me. Before Luçien´s scimitar could wound me, I lunged for the wall opposite to me in a series of acrobatic moves. My hands clasped around the only available weapon for me: the trophy broadsword.

Luçien screamed, and his blue cat eyes turned into an abyss of dark side fire. “You should have just accepted that death blow! It would have been painless and swift. Think of the battle you have instead forced us into!”

He flew at me like one of the mythical sword fighters. I struck extremely hard without raising the broadsword much at the exact moment I knew our weapons would clash. My legs, my hand and the rest of my body formed a combined force. Sparks flew through the room.

For somebody focused on grace and precision in combat, Luçien resorted to physical contact with astonishing regularity. He attempted to knock me in the face with his scimitar hilt just before kicking into the lower zones of my body.

Every feint of his, every dodge and every block would have been a trap to somebody unwary. Luckily, the snake style techniques Isabeau had taught brought fluidity into my movements. They were useful in bending just outside Luçien’s reach.

“Are we finished yet?” I got out with clenched teeth right after a very malicious attack of his.

A terrible tenderness was in his rich, husky voice. “Draň is still one of my best friends. No matter how split his personality is, I owe him. I owe your sister as well. I was forced to witness much of her suffering. It darkened my soul.”

His entire being was burning with the rage of the dark side. The luminous, sulphuric yellow of his eyes was split by blood vessels that had expended.

“Luçien,” I argued carefully, “Caelestris will suffer again when you kill me. She loves me dearly.”

“So do I.” His eyes briefly softened. “Believe me, I do love you. “Believe me, I do love you. But if I have to choose between you and millions of beings, you lose. You are the mambo asogwe of Cunabula. Heulwen has confirmed as much to me.”

He still failed to see why I had such a vendetta with him. I put as much serenity in my voice as I could spare. “You couldn´t bring yourself to kill me before and I don´t believe you´ll destroy me now.”

His laugh was hollow. “My little dreamer! Your faith is incurable.”

My arms grew tired despite the Force, and I could not have him talking any longer. I dropped to my knees. “I have always believed in you, Luçien!”

He walked slowly to me, his steps heavy.

I raised my face to him. While I did so my throat was exposed to him in absolute surrender. It was the Lidérc way when a battle was lost. “Will you grant me a dying wish?”

“Of course.” Tears ran over his cheeks and his eyes were still blue.

“As you move on, remember me, and all we could have been.”

He bent over to kiss me lightly on the mouth. “Good-bye, Grianán. I love you more than you ever will know.”

“Then show me!”

“I already am.”

The last thing that I felt as he cut my throat was his panic, when my blood splattered through the room.

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So let us continue the battle of wills, shall we? Who is wrong? Who is right?

@SWpants: What I wanted to show with this story is how much religious fanaticism can blind a person. That each of us chooses every day if he/ she serves the light side or the dark side (of the Force).

@Lady_Misty: This is true in general. But Lucien has his own point of view about Grianán´s abilities. A point of view that might not become her.

Let us travel on, shall we?



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Grianán lies in front of me, helpless and vulnerable; nothing but flesh and bones. She always has been petité, but right now she seems more fragile than ever before. She is in great pain now. Her restraints are tight, already colouring her skin. She does her best not so shiver. Clever as she is, she is fully aware of the dire situation that she is in. Every tiny movement of hers makes the rope cut into her flesh. Eventually, she will experience spasms from the mandrake potion that I have administered to her earlier on, causing her to move more than her bonds allow, increasing the pain.

First, I will let her do penance for all the sins that she has committed. Then I will help her to get rid of the demon inside of her. Considering the gravity of her offences, there may be even more than one Force phantom possessing her. It must have been too easy for them to enter her mind. Mediums are an easy target, as the Holy Scriptures inform us.

My voice makes her jump. Or could it be her bad conscience answering my demands? “I will not hurt you, Grianán,” I let her know. “You will do that yourself by moving. The only solution that I see for you is to do your best to not move an inch.”

The potion will cause her to move eventually. There will be no remedy against that. But I need her mind to open up to me like the petals of a rose, one by one.

I move closer to her, trying to avoid her eyes. “It cost me a lot of energy to restore you and your blood loss. But it was worth the sacrifice.”

She needs to know that I am also paying a high price and that this is no mere hobby of mine. Her universe will look different once I start to open her eyes.

I touch her neck, follow its soft line. Something tells me that her skin will be less yielding than her spirit. But I can handle afflictions for the two of us.

“Do not think that I enjoyed myself, Grianán. There is no pleasure in treating you this way. You brought this on yourself.”

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(To be continued!)

 

Totally mystified by the logic behind Grianan bringing all this upon herself

 

We really do have to choose, DAILY, to follow the path of right or wrong; light or dark; justice or vengeance.



First, I will let her do penance for all the sins that she has committed. Then I will help her to get rid of the demon inside of her.

First, I will kick you in the groin, and then the face.


“Do not think that I enjoyed myself, Grianán. There is no pleasure in treating you this way. You brought this on yourself.”

I hate him like I hate Viserys Targaryan.

 

Poisoning, such a nasty and painful thing. I never had mandrake but I have experienced arsenic and that was painful.

Something else that I find interesting is a book that I'm reading mentions mandrake being put in a drink.

 

Lucien is so engulfed in darkness that he truly feels lost to me. I feel like the regret will eventually kill him when he recognizes it.

 

For a bit I was confused but I figured it out.

What people do for what they think is right.

 

Lucien is obsessed by the dark side

 

@Nyota's Heart: She believes that only an act of self-sacrifice by a family member, friend or lover will save a darksider forever more. It has to do with the religious ideas she grew up with on the Holy Isle of Cunabula. And me seeing what Vader/ Anakin did for his son, when I was but 7 years old.

@SWpants: Viserys, really? That bad?

@Darth Gangrenous: The book I found this quote in (about Mandrake) was the Holy Bible. I had to use that, sorry!

@Darth_Furio: Let me show you my very unorthodox solution then!

@Lady_Misty: Watching the news and reading the news always confuses me.

@earlybird-obi-wan: Actually by his own point-of-view. It is dreadful to always seek the flaws in others. I remember watching a rather chilling "Criminal Minds" episode about a religious fanatic once. He almost killed one of my favourite characters in the series.

Okay, I hope so much that dear Hazel is still with us. Otherwise I will miss her dearly.

And I hope I did not scare Kahara off. Or Chyntuck.

Perhaps DarthUncle also stops playing "Dungeons & Dragons" on-line with Tyranus230 to pay a visit here. One can hope...

The following part is pretty dark. Perhaps I watch & read too many thrillers:


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Silence is all around us. I hear Grianán’s faint heartbeat, slowed down by the drugs in her system and therestraints that make her blood clot.

It is not easy for me to leave her in confusion like this, but I need to win time before the full effect of the mandrake potion kicks in. Her eyes are lakes of despair, but show clarity and alertness I did not expect in this stage of the torture. She is as strong as I feared. I need to do my worst to break her to heal her.

I try to devote myself fully to the horrors I must expose her to. If I falter now we will be both lost to the dark side of the Force. I must be strong.

My mother’s favourite quote comes to mind. “Spare the rod and spoil the child.”

More proverbs rush into my thoughts, opening like beautiful flowers.

“He that spareth his rod hateth his son; but he that loveth him casteneth him betimes diligently. Chasten thy son while there is hope, and let not thy soul spare for his crying.”

My heart becomes lighter now. I wish I could teach Grianán these proverbs, but she is not ready for their elemental truth yet.

“Foolishness is bound in the heart of a child; but the rod of correction shall drive it far from him. Withhold not correction from the child; for if though beatest him with the rod, he shall not die. Though shalt beat him with the rod, and shalt deliver his soul from… Draconis. The rod and reproof give wisdom; but a child left to himself bringeth his mother to shame.”

I feel a new clarity and tenderness for Grianán blossom in my heart.

“I have underestimated you before. It will not happen again. Your entire body is a lethal weapon. I have no other choice but to keep you grounded like this.”

She stirs uneasily.

 

Sounds like some uncomfortable times ahead for both of them.

 

Yup, like Viserys.

It is quite dark. And yet:

I feel a new clarity and tenderness for Grianán blossom in my heart. ​

But that almost makes it seem like the darkness can disappear?​

 

"If I falter now we will be both lost to the dark side of the Force. I must be strong."

Considering what he's been up to, I'm surprised by this statement. The denial is as strong as the Dark Side.

 

My mother used to swat my butt as a child and as I grew older she used time-out. I will tell all of you that there is nothing more boring than watching seconds slip away as you think of all the things that you could be doing if you weren't sitting or standing in front of the microwave.

And duty calls.

 

He is dark and tries to avoid the dark

 

@Darth Gangrenous: Let me take you further on this trip then to see what will occur!

@SWpants: I hope you do not mind some last minute changes that I did. But it felt right...

@Darth_Furio: Jacen never failed to surprise me throughout the NJO novels. This is perhaps why I needed this form of therapy...

@Lady_Misty: Let us buy a microwave for Lucien then.

@earlybird-obi-wan: A classical Anakin Skywalker flaw, is it not? *watched some SW documentaries on DVD today with her left foot forced to rest

Okay, here we go again. And then I am off to bed, even though my pain drives me up the wall:


Chapter 28: The necessity of sacrifice

Hours later, I am in Agathos’ cruiser. For some daft reason Isabeau has stolen mine and, against all common sense, is on her way to Sapuhru. I hope my step-sister is aware of what wrath she has unleashed. She was never to come back. This time I might not be able to save her from execution. Alezan is not as forgiving as I am.

I groan.

There are too many headstrong women around me. They never do what they are told to. Grianán is the worst. Instead of showing gratitude that I left her alive, she refuses to cooperate. But she must learn how bare the life of a sinner is. Only then I can lift her up again. And, eventually, let her out of the luggage compartment.

“Tu es têtu comme une bantha!”I roar forcefully. You are as stubborn as a bantha!

My fist smashes down on the instrument panel.

Something jumps and catches my eyes.

Frowning, I take the object into my hands. It is a leather-bound book. I open it to handwriting that is all too familiar.

I was born dead. It was a matter of the heart. Actually it was broken before it all began.

A serpent-spawn of the Ophidea has three heart chambers. The walls between the ventricle are incomplete, so there is some mixing of oxygenated and de-oxygenated blood. It is a process that is minimized by the timing of the contractions. Normally the Force helps to overcome the obstacles of the human blood line. In my case it did not. My spirit remained in the Force vortex, a place of great beauty and peace. Glittering mist was everywhere. Time and space had no meaning. Serenity reigned. I wanted to stay there forever.

But my mother, god queen Arcānā Tamisra Tjiehenet, had decided differently for me. Dark Side energies crackled over and through my body.

Against my own will, the muscles of my heart started working again; my Midi-chlorians were forced into action.

I, my mother’s seventh daughter, was reborn into darkness, blood, dirt and chaos. It was wrong. I belonged to the light. Going back would spare me a lot of sorrow. To live again was like an embrace of pain.

In her blind rage, my mother was taking the underground cave apart, bit by bit. Her powers controlled her and not the other way around.

In the first moments of my young life, I understood a basic principle: Fear is the path to the Dark Side. Fear leads to anger; anger leads to hate; hate leads to suffering. Instead of clinging on to the pain that I felt, I let go of it, accepting it for what it was.

This is not what I expected. Such beautiful words, honest and full of light. These are not the murderous confessions of a keen Darksider. Or of somebody who knows the unnatural ways of necromancy.

Nervously, I read on, enthralled but scared of what my discovery means. The flight computer takes over for me.

My siblings raised their voices in terror. Stalactites rained down on all of us and the lake. Compassion filled me. My brothers and sisters could not help being frightened, but I could. The serenity of the Force vortex was still inside me. It was a place where everything was possible. Where the heart was the compass of the soul.

A shimmering stasis field of Force energy settled down above our bodies.

Somebody reached out for me. Her aura was familiar. I recognised Marquise Isabeau Riwalan, the royal nanny. Her heartbeat told me the stories of her home planet Sapuhru. About the constant struggle for life in the dune sea. There was much that I could learn from her about survival. I just had to cling on to her.

The calmer I became, the more my light shield intensified.

I snuggled closer to Nanny's chest, relishing in all the things she was able to offer me without even knowing it. Her acquaintance would be very valuable. In comparison to my own mother, she was untainted by the dark side. She was very much receptive to it, but it did not affect her. Generally speaking she had her own agenda: the protection of the royal serpent-spawn.

To hold up the Force barrier that long was difficult on my own. As draining as it was however, saving lives felt good. There was also serenity in that. I could die another day. The Force vortex would wait for me patiently.

********************************************************************

Within the course of the next hour, I have to pause over and over again. All the things I learn from Grianán’s diary humble me. Her heart is, as she wrote herself, her compass. There are no holy texts hindering her or inspiring her. She was simply born with a great compassion for life and everybody that ever crossed her way. Including me.

My fingers skim the pages, while my eyes try to take everything in. Every little joke, every heartfelt hurt.

Then I reach an incident that I dread very much.

I woke up lying on my belly in the empty common room. Iron shackles bound me to the low table I was on. I felt rather exposed clad only in my underwear, yet I remained calm. Instead of freeing myself with the Force or making myself known to him, I wanted to know what would happen. I had to find out what he was capable of. So much depended on it.

The diary slides out of my hands, drops to the floor.

Stars dance in front of my eyes.

Only now I understand what Grianán really has been up to all these years. Sacrifice, Yagya, is a religious activity in her culture.

I allow my mind to wander down pathways I have closed off for years. Images rise within me.

The severely burned body of Arcānā, clinging on to the ashes of her daughter Adamah. On Polysýndeton’s marketplace she had been willing to sacrifice anything and everything just to save her loved ones and a foreign nation that hated her.

The fast decline of Clementia, the Crypt Keeper of Cunabula. Despite the daily torture by the Force phantoms of her ancestors she had shown exceptional devotion to her pious task as a snake priestess.

I close my burning eyes.

Both women had been completely at ease with the idea of dying for something greater than themselves.

How could I have been so wrong all these years?

Ophidea women are but intense and inscrutable beings, tough and courageous. Very often they do not fight with logic and strategy, but with heart and guts. They do not reason rationally that something cannot be accomplished. If it is something they feel is morally right, they will continue to fight and die until they win.

My heart skips a beat.

Grianán.

She is still down in the luggage compartment.

Paying for my blindness.

“Oh no!”

I stumble out of my chair.

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(To be continued!)

 

I was expecting you to make a right turn but you turned left instead.

 

Well, Darth Gangrenous, I will work with flashbacks of those dire hours later on in the chapter.

 

I can see the parallels to Darth Caedus.

As for this latest chapter, her flashbacks are awesome. I wonder what her intimate thoughts will do to Lucien?

 

Tweaking is perfectly fine



There are too many headstrong women around me. They never do what they are told to. Grianán is the worst. Instead of showing gratitude that I left her alive, she refuses to cooperate.

That's because you "left her alive" in a horrible way.
Also, of course she's stubborn. that's how she is!


This is not what I expected. Such beautiful words, honest and full of light. These are not the murderous confessions of a keen Darksider. Or of somebody who knows unnatural ways of bringing back the Dead or creating golems.

That's because powers do not make a Darksider. How one uses those powers does. Kind of like, oh I don't know, you.


How could I have been so wrong all these years?


Because you have ignored what everyone has said and have been blinded by religion. And it' wasn't ignorance; it was purposefully not listening. You're a horrible being.

 

Still getting a charge out of Pants' interactive reviews. Yay but I do think an epiphany has occurred, late though it might be. You cannot undo past ill choices with that but you can keep from making future ones.

 

It appears that he is finally getting it.

 

Cliffie
Is Lucien now seeing what he is doing

 

Well, pity Lucien couldn't bring himself to really listen to all the great examples around him before, but I guess Grianan had more persistence in sacrificing herself to save him, even as he was willing to sacrifice her to save her.

Also, their stubbornness and ease with sacrifice for some greater good must be what binds them. Okay, i do admit that sacrificing yourself to save someone else, without destruction or major horror for others, seems like the wiser course of action, and her father gave himself up to help er save Lucien - let's call it the power of love then which now unlocked the door to his redemption.

I have to say, don't really miss reading the full details of why Lucien realizing Grianan is still in cargo hold is such bad news, it was pretty gruesome.

 

@Darth_Furio, SWpants, Nyota's Heart, Lady_Misty, earlybird-obi-wan & DarthUncle

I thank you all for your thoughtful comments and still sticking to this story. Tonight is a special night for me and I will be off-line until Sunday evening. So I decided to give you all another piece of the story:


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My Force ability of teleportation fails me over and over again. Sweat drenches my hair and skin. Scrubbing at my eyes, I roll onto my hands and knees. I cannot concentrate of dissolving into pure energy. Instead, I fully remember what occurred at the lodge after using the witch potion on the love of my life:

The hours crawl by like years. I am painfully aware of their passing. Grianán stays stubborn. My words do not seem to get through to her. Her eyes speak a clear and unmistakeable language to me. That forces me to give her more of the potion. I need to be alert while doing so to prevent her from becoming brain damaged.

She falls over again. I have stopped counting how many times she has collapsed onto the mattress. With the help of the Force, I bring her into the air again, where I ensure she hangs suspended. I open the bottle and fill the spoon with a steady hand.

I roll up her torture mask to just above her lips while I leave the spoon hovering next to us in the air.

She dares the impossible and addresses me immediately. “Enough. Let us end it here.”

“I gave you no permission to speak to me, Grianán,”

I shove a second serving of potion into her mouth. Before she can spit it out again, I roll down the mask. Her jaw is fixed within a single heartbeat. I am exhausted. My indignation lashes out to her in a series of hot words.

“You are doing this to yourself, Grianán! You brought us to this very dark place where we do not want to be. If you had listened to me in the past, had obeyed me, we would not be here.”

I cannot stand her tearful look any longer and so I turn away from her. The window seems miles away, but I reach it with trembling knees. I fold my arms behind my back to keep my hands steady.

It annoys me that my heart is beating fast. I need to focus again. Her voice should not have such power over me. Nor should her eyes.

Outside, it is getting dark. I resist the strong desire to turn around and check if Grianán is well. Despite the mask, I can feel her in my soul, calling out for me. It is like a black flood whispering in my veins. She cannot tempt me to release her. Instead I recall the five sorrowful mysteries of Gorge, the founder of the Brotherhood of Shadows.

First, his agony in the green hell of Cunabula. He had refused to follow an assassination order at the front line.

Second, his public scourging. He had been tied to a column and flogged with a whip, which the Ophidea also mockingly called the ’Cat-of-nine-tails ’.

Third, the thorny slave collar. He was forced to wear it immediately after his humiliation as a proud warrior.

Fourth, being forced to carry the dead bodies of his wife and children into the underground laboratories. There he had to watch how his beloved were re-born as soulless zombies.

And fifth, his branding with Force lightning. Although he was bleeding, maimed and half-dead, he had been brought on-board a star ship and dropped into the dune sea of Sapuhru.

Thinking of my forefather was inspiring. He had made sure that the majority of the daughters of the moon were immaculate and shied away from unnatural Force powers.

A corset of rules is not a deprivation of liberty. It is a necessity for peace and order. Therefore the witch hunt potion is essential for Grianán. She has not swallowed a great deal of it yet. There is no real health risk.

“Well, I will help you to repent your sins. All of them! You need an exorcism.”

To me, her flinch is an admission of guilt. It is a good sign. If she is capable of guilt she can be redeemed.

“Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus
omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio
infernalis adversarii, omnis legio,
omnis congregatio et secta diabolica.

Ergo draco maledicte
et omnis legio diabolica adjuramus te.
cessa decipere humanas creaturas,
eisque aeternae Perditionis venenum propinare.”

I can see that she understands.

We exorcise you, every impure spirit,
every satanic power, every incursion
of the infernal adversary, every legion,
every congregation and diabolical sect.

Thus, cursed demon
and every diabolical legion, we adjure you.
Cease to deceive human creatures,
and to give to them the Poison of Eternal Perdition.

I repeat the words over and over again, until they shatter her body. I can see that the possessing spirit is shaken loose. One convulsion follows the next. The intervals become shorter. It is a promising beginning, but then she wets herself like an infant. I expected better.

Her eyes lose focus. My hands close around her shoulders. I feel her wincing beneath my palm.

Vague sounds come from beneath the torture mask. I do not like the way that her throat works and know that she is in danger of frothing.

Time is of the essence. I take off the mask and there is indeed the beginnings of asphyxiation. I gently open her mouth. A mix of foam and bile comes free before her eyes roll back and she passes out.

With the help of the Force, I clean her wind-pipe and work on pumping air back into her lungs. I hold her head in my hands and sense that there is very little brain function. I have no choice but to stop the cleansing. She needs a break. Perhaps I need one, too. This is getting out of hand.

I untie her.

Exhaling in a rush, I surface in the bleak present. My head, throbbing viciously, rests in my hands.

I need to get to the luggage compartment. Grianán must be freed from the peril that I put her in hours ago.

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(To be continued!)