Before - Legends "Legends of the Force"(epic drama with OCs), book 1, 32 Chapters, FIN

Your story remains enthralling, and Isa is a very interesting creature. Quite young, but indeed with very strong, quite harsh, opinions. When Telenn spoke to her telepathically, that reminded me a bit of a certain Lady Catherine talking to a miss Bennet, though both persons have a very different character than those in your story.

Also intriguing how here again we see the better side of Lucien. I have to say, that his healing the dark Elf, and helping this young Sionnach seems to be acts of a much better person than Isa will let herself be. For now.

 

Once more, thanks you dear Nyota & dear husband that you both care for my writing & take the time to comment so nicely.

It is difficult to type a text with my mobile phone.

My husband is right, as usual. "Pride and prejudice" were a great inspiration for this story, especially the two characters mentioned above.

I hope all goes well tomorrow night and that I am back with my husband Sunday night. Because I have plenty of fan fiction from gorgeous writers to read still.

 

Here a quick update before I am off to bed:


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Each stone chamber is furnished in a very natural style and hold in soft colours. We reach a chamber that has been painted in a light yellow. The curtains in it are as light blue as the tramps’ eyes, but the brocade pillows are of the same colour as my step-brother’s tunic. A foreshadowing.

“Abduct the girl!” Those are the first words that Flor says to me once we are out on the street again.

Smiling ruefully, I state, “That would make things worse.”

“Bridal kidnapping is not unheard of in our culture.”

My eyes widen. “I will not do such a thing to Sionnach.”

“Just because life was harsh on her?” She lifts a questioning eyebrow.

“Sionnach is a very sweet and devoted girl. I will not compromise her in any way.”

“Because you are not a real man. And you never will be,” Flor snarls. “Look at you: barely sixteen and no sexual record that is mentionable.”

I snort when I let go of the vision, a tone that startles all three Elves. But before I can get down in front of the wooden coffee table, a barely dressed moon priestess appears.

“I would feel honoured if you could follow me into the steam bath,” the young woman says. “His Lordship and the patron are already waiting inside.”

Another vision of the future hassles me.



His gaze wanders through the room, finally meeting mine. “It is useless to argue any result of witchcraft with me.”

It is simply absurd that Luçien is making a statement like this. “You can produce energy shields and heal persons by touching them. You can throw lightening bolts and kill from a safe distance. You have strong reflexes and read minds.”

“The future is forbidden terrain for a Force user.”

I feel a twinge of fear in my soul. “Says who, Luçien?”

“The holy laws of my people.”

“What else do those laws say?”

“He who chops wood is the actual cause of fire.”

Remembering the planet surface of Sapuhru I wonder where a Lidérc can find enough wood to erect a camp fire. “Any more words of wisdom for me?”

“All witchcraft comes from carnal lust, which is in women insatiable.”

“Could it be that your people hate and mistrust one another very much?”

“Sionnach”, Luçien sweeps to his feet and towers over me in his stunning height, “They used the phantasm of a cat, an animal which is an appropriate symbol of the perfidious, for cats are always setting snares for each other.”

Now he has lost me completely. “They?” I ask.

“The Ophidiae. It was no accident that they used feline jungle creatures to get to the Elves.” His hands settle down on my shoulder blades. “Those female scientists were malicious women. It is true what is written in the holy laws: And I have found a woman more bitter than death, who is the hunter´s snare, and her heart is a net, and her hands are bands.”

“Strange that you are from a culture where the females hunt for the homestead and the males stay behind guarding the fire places. Maybe you should trust the hands that feed you.”

I wish that he would stop now, but he goes on. His grip intensifies.

“I owe respect to all the females in the ducal household. Yet they need to be watched and the law needs to be carried out when appropriate. Including men who disregard all that is holy.”

There is indeed a strong need. On his side. The more he dares me to look into his heart, the less I like it. “Is there never any mercy? I mean, what if somebody is truly sorry or cannot help being different?”

“However much they are penitent and return to the Faith, they must not be punished like other Heretics with lifelong imprisonment, but must suffer the extreme penalty.”

Now I have the proof that my step-brother is a religious fanatic. I should warn the tramp about it. She might get hurt. But then again: I am not supposed to see the future.

From the holocron I have learned that the theory of the Unifying Force is a dangerous one. It views the Force as a deity that neither had sides nor chose them, treating all beings equally. This is another reason why Luçien is so furious with Draconis all the time.

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A bunch of moon priestesses, bonas-femnas, gathers around us in silent dignity. Each of them wears discrete make-up and nice scents. It is like standing in the garden of the ducal serail with all the lovely flowers in them. The women start undressing us and wrap us in cotton towels. Their fingers dance carefully around, barely touching us. It feels like a soft breeze of wind going through palm leaves. One of the women disappears through a side-door with our clothing.

Curious, I allow another future vision to make itself known to me.

Dish after dish is brought in by serene moon priestesses. Fruit salad. Bantha cheese. Womp-rat meat with tomatoes and potatoes. I force myself to eat some of it, but give up after a few spoonfuls. “Should the groom not be present for his own opulent wedding banquet?” I inquire carefully.

Minou Yeotenn’s expression turns sombre. “You have not consumed it yet?”It occurs to me that she is not speaking about the food in front of me. “There has been no need to,” I mumble, my eyes downcast on my lap.

With a slight headache, I return into the present. It is annoying to see the possible future through the eyes of others. I am sure that I was in Sionnach O’Conghaile’s head once more. But I cannot be certain.

The future is like sand, containing grains of possibility. A single sand corn surely has no will of its own, but it certainly has its own journey.

Instead of focusing on what Vicomte Ankoù will do to his new lover given the time, I better take care of my own future.

We are led into the tiled bath chamber itself. In there our skins are cleaned with great care. But the ancient ritual does not stop there. In the steam bath next door we are rubbed with peeling gloves from our shoulders down to the feet. Then cascades of lukewarm water, taken out of a marble pool with brazen bowls, are emptied over our bodies.

Vicomte Ankoù is already resting on a heated marble bench, not wearing the big towel any longer, but a smaller one around his hips. Madame Yeotenn stands close to him. She has stirred a small bag with soap pieces and olives in a bowl causing a very thick foam to form. This delicious smelling foam is spread over his arms, his legs and his back.

Each of us is granted an equally intense massage. No words are spoken. An atmosphere of peace and serenity hangs in the misty air of the steam bath.

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(To be continued!)

 

Seeing the future is dangerous and can lead to bad life choices.

 

This is why Lucien is so much against clairvoyance.

 

Isabeau is either a bit of a egocentric teenager, or wise enough to not meddle in others' future; probably a healthy mix of both
A bit ironic that she can see some future, but chooses to let it go, while Lucien won't be able to accept any wisdom from visions, but nevertheless seems intent on moulding the future for others.

Your description of Spa, made me feel, for a moment, as if I was about to go visit there.
Perhaps the Sauna tonight, together Azure?

 

Bravo on mixing together Isa's various traits and balancing them with Lucien's intractableness. You can almost feel like he is arrogantly wanting to orchestrate things for others. As for the spa, a very nice description! Makes you relaxed just reading it LOL

 

You spoil me senseless with comments like that. Without you I would have stopped writing years ago, because it is always difficult for me to believe in myself. You always find a way to encourage me as a fan fic writer & a fan fic artist. Due to you there are stories of mine on the web & drawings/ paintings as well.

So I will upload my hand, help you to unpack your suitcase & drag you to the nearby fitness center, sauna included.

 

I am grateful that you do not only beta my stuff, that I regard as worthless rubbish these days, but that you also make me feel proud of my text. Thanks!

 

Aww. You two are the cutest!

 

the spa is nice. But those visions and how they react. Lucien should listen more and do less

 

That is a good advice to our beau, but he is hearing impaired at times.

Okay, here is the new update due to WarmNyota_SweetAyesha courtesy:


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When we are clean again, dried with additional towels and clad in silken morning robes, we are rushed into a resting room. Everybody gets comfortable on a chaiselonge, while Madame Yeotenn appears with a tray.

“An Elfin tea ceremony?” the tramp asks astonished.

“Please stay this way, child. It is not required that you kneel in your state.”

As I watch Vicomte Ankoù, Ahearne and Maoilrian getting on their knees, I decide to get seated on my lower tights, too.

My mother had known the Way of the Tea as well. I am very surprised that the Elfin culture practises this ceremony. Once our people have been enemies and are supposed to be at war still.

Madame Yeotenn moves her hands like a young woman that only barely has the Feast of Blood behind her. She leads us through the entire ceremony with dignity and peace, serving us perfect green tea. It is the best that I had in a life time. It tastes in a sublime way of jasmine petals.

We drink in silence.

Then our morning robes get moved from our shoulders and we are massaged with precious almond oil that contained rose essences.

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I awake in fresh garments and in a different room. Nobody is attending me, so I decide to walk around in Ostal Blanc. The air is heavy with exotic scents.

After a while I am drawn to the sound of a familiar voice, full of agony. “I cannot bear her moods any longer, Minou. Seven moon weeks without any excuse from her. She even thinks of me as Vicomte Ankoù. I seem to have lost any right to be her beloved step-brother Luc any more.”

“She is a bohémienne, a daughter of the crossroads. She will go where ever the winds tell her to. It is in her very blood.”

I dare to stare through the key hole.

Vicomte Ankoù is kneeling in front of Madame Yeotenn, his head resting in her lap. She is stroking him like a young kitten. They look like mother and child. I wonder if Flor would like that picture very much.

“Do you have no other advice for me, Minou?”

“If you would have listened to Alezan years ago than you would not be in trouble right now. But you had to be stubborn about saving Isabeau.”

I keep my breath as low as possible, dare not to move an inch.

“Without me she would be nothing more than a pale skeleton swimming the dune sea.”

“Perhaps that was the fate that was meant for her in the first place.”

“Fate, fate!” shouts Luçien.

“This is the way of our people. It does not matter whether we moved into stone cities or stayed nomads in desert tents. We all have to serve the scripts. The words of the She-Moon and her virgin daughter are holy. Only their wisdom saved us from genocide. Do not forget to what purpose the Ophidiae bred us originally! Our way is the Way of Blood.”

I draw back from the door, wandering further through a homestead that seems to be asleep.

Then I hear girlish giggling not very far away. I choose to get closer to its source.

 

Ooh, the things Isa overhears! And a green tea ceremony. A wonderful and delicious experience.

 

Actually my husband DarthUncle loves green tea more than I do. I always find it too bitter to fully enjoy.

 

You should probably steep it for a shorter period then - to guarantee the taste, use more tea leaves

Anyway, the ceremony feels calming and pleasant (though I am surprised they are rushed somewhere during what seems to be intended to be dignified and soothing
I think Lucien really isn't very much into understanding people, if he expects a teenager to apologise for doing something she couldn't really have expected to know is a bad thing - is this about the holocron, in which case she probably should have know she was being stupid; or about the bird, which given the answer he gets it probably is, where there is no way for her to know, as a certain 'brother' of hers never explained this and many other things.

Again, with his professed desire to act according to those scriptures, he sure doesn't seem to have the self reflection to see that his actions are not quite in accord with them. Perhaps he could wonder if that is for the best, since he also knows his actions are perfect, so that's a way to bring them into agreement

 

Jasmine tea is really nice. Isa is young. And Lucien is also young and could make the mistakes every youngster does

 

Very true earlybird-obi-wan, and maybe I'm too hard on Lucien, knowing how he went in earlier/later stories, but who knows where the story takes us and him this time!

 

As you might know, DarthUncle, I sometimes forget tea bags in tea pots and, even worse, overhear the alarm clock that I have set...

About Lucien not understanding teenagers: he never had a snowballs chance on Tatooine/ Jakku/ Saphuru to be a teen himself.

And about people who are fanatic about the scriptures (of their religion): those who scream the loudest that others sin, are the greatest sinners. Lucien is far from perfect.

Aww, thanks, earlybird-obi-wan. You are quite understanding of our beau here. Thank you!

You did notice that one, too. Didn´t you? All those subtle changes, even some scenes being cut out. A text is like a breathing creature, changing with age. Maturing. And hopefully the writer of it, too.

 

I could use an Almond Oil massage. I like green tea too.

You can't expect young ones to make life decisions without some guidence. Isa and Lucien have a long way to go.

 

Indeed, Darth_Furio, they both have!

 

Okay, I hope I still have some readers on-board. Here it comes, the first bit of Chapter 8 before I hop off to the nearby fitness centre:


Dark adapted eyes, Chapter 8:

“But I do not believe in magic, Néné.” Ahearne sounds physically exhausted, but nonetheless satisfied.

“What about the Force?”

Having no interest in further religious discussions I move on. There are more doors and people to spy on. This place is no labyrinth like the ducal homestead. And there are no guards around. That makes things way easier.

“You complained about having a headache back in the cave, Isabeau.”

Vicomte Ankoù has come out of nowhere. I bump straight against his bare chest. “I have this heartache since you turned away from me.” His voice is grave with sorrow. “I can only remove the cause, but not the symptom. After tonight you will not be save on this planet ever again. Papa knows everything that has occurred.”

“Because you told him,” I accuse him.

“There was no need to. Bad news travel faster as a desert storm.”

“First of all, he is not your father. The sky walker is and don’t you dare to deny that. Your mother is a ...!”

“You have no idea about those things!” Vicomte Ankoù thunders with a wildness that makes me jump away from him. His anger turns him into a dangerous, yet beautiful being. An aura of white and azure blue energy is dancing at the edge of his naked skin.

“Alezan was a better father to me than this eternal Force bender. A being so driven by his urge to serve other’s that he forgot about me and the other children that he has nursed.”

His shouting has alarmed the entire place. Doors open everywhere and heads pop out. The rushing of feet comes from every direction. And then I smell her.

Flor is a cloud of blood and perfume. How she has been possibly hunting like that I cannot understand. Even womp-rats can smell her in a radius of twelve feet. She approaches us in her tight hunting gear.

“There she is, the sky walker bitch in person,” I snare.

Behind my step-mother, a grim shadow dressed in the colours of his house, Alezan looms. His long, bushy tail is sweeping the floor.

“Let us kill this snake lover here and now!” my step-father says. “The magic of Cunabula is forbidden in my realm.”

“There is nothing magical about the holocron,” I correct him. “It is just a teaching device.”
Vicomte Ankoù has to hold Alezan's teeth away from my throat with all his might. “Isabeau is just an unreasonable child that found a dangerous toy, papa.”

“This time you cannot protect her any longer, my son. I listened to you before and it was wrong. Pour la mort,” he hisses. Destined to die.

A friendly cough sounds through the air. “I beg your pardon, old friend, but may I interfere here?”

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

Senator Aletheia has appeared in a door frame, only clad in a towel. His skin is shimmering with massage oil. “I fear that my wife’s Force legacy once more brought your household shame and dishonour.”

“Indeed,” answers Alezan, now sounding more civilized and calm. He bows to the human man, who returns the honour immediately.

“I know a solution to this deadly conflict that sprung up here among you. Give your step-daughter into my care.”

I am high in the air in no time, coming down hard in front of him. “Pardon me?”

The human’s pupils are wide with shock. Only when Vicomte Ankoù gets hold of my shoulder blades, he seems more at ease again. “What I was going to suggest, dear Marquise, is: come with me to Draconis. If the culture of my wife interests you so much, then be a permanent guest in our home.”
Vicomte Ankoù draws in a deep breath. “You really would do that for my beloved sister?”

“I say, we kill her at this very spot!” Alezan insists. His cat ears, coming out of his turban, are very tense and his tail is standing high in the air.

Senator Aletheia gives a genuine smile. “My dear friend, my own children play with holocrons like this on a daily bases. I assure you there is nothing evil in them.”

“You should reconsider their education then.” My step-father sounds very concerned. “Bring them to your mother and brother on Amnion.”

“My wife and her subjects may have very bewildering ways at times, but believe me, our children are safe from harm when holocrons are concerned.”

Vicomte Ankoù lets go of me, clasping the hands of the human man in deep gratitude. “You really would do that for Isabeau?”

“I see no reason why not.”

A lot of things escape my attention here.

“Under one condition!”, my step-father says, “I never want to see her face again. Is that clear? Let it be known that there is a Death Mark on her head otherwise.”

“Oui, papa,” Vicomte Ankoù mumbles, sinking to his knees. “I swear by all that is holy to me, you will never suffer her company again.”

“What is going on?” I yell, but nobody answers me. All eyes are fixed on the creature that used to be my sweet Luc. He is sobbing in public and makes Alezan’s leather gloves wet.

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

(To be continued!)

 

Well, things keep moving fast for Isabeau. I find myself wondering how the rest of that conversation went that Isabeau didn't care for

Interesting how unconcerned she is to be eavesdropping. From that and the rest of the chapters, I get the impression (I hadn't really thought about it deeply before) that Isabeau has not experienced much attention, care and love in the homestead, from anyone but Lucien. Which makes his distancing and seeming betrayal all the harder for her, explaining some of her teenage anger towards him better. Alezan and Flor surely don't care for her apart from caring for what Lucien feels for her.

The Senator seems like a very friendly, and peacekeeping presence. Makes me wonder if he married the serpent queen partly due the fight he sees in her between inner peace and the dark side in her. Looking forward to reading how Isabeau liked the reality of habitual force users around her (since Lucien is never habitual, certainly not about using the force: either he hides it, or he shows off ...).

 

Alezan and Flor are truly evil doing this to young Lucien and Isa.
The senator is helpful

 

I think that Isa will grow up a lot with Aletheia. At the very least she'll be away from Alezan. Intense update Azure.

 

You know, DarthUncle, reading this makes me miss you less tonight and looking forward to see you when you return from your journey.

Your character studies are always straight on and you know my characters so well. Their strength, their weaknesses. They can lie to themselves, but never to you. You always catch them red-handed, like Isabeau eavesdropping. Well done!

I hope you find my next update before you travel home to me and can enjoy it in your mother´s flat.

You know, earlybird-obi-wan, the Lidérc culture has harsh rules and the personal point-of-view of Alezan on holocrons is very harsh. Perhaps you will understand them and Lucien better the more the re-edited story goes further. Dus, er komen nog heel veel gemeene dingen aan!

Darth_Furio: I could say a lot now, but I decide to go for a River Song like "Spoiler!" alert!

Okay, I still have 3 readers for this story, which ain´t bad! I am grateful that you guys still care and always have an encouraging comment for me.

I am also glad that WarmNyota_SweetAyesha has agreed to help me through this since dear Kahara has to focus on other things! (Kahara, I am thinking of you very often! )

Okay, here is my next update. Oh and tell me if you hate being tagged! Or getting PMs! Very important for me to know that!


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How I end up in the boudoir of Madame Yeotenn, I do not recall. The door is slammed behind me and Vicomte Ankoù breathes heavily. His expression is weary. Neither of us speaks for long moments.

Then he makes a sound in the back of his throat, half whimper and half plea. “Isabeau...”

I bite my tongue and spit out blood. This act is normally considered as an invitation for a vendetta. He chooses to ignore that.

“You should have never used the holocron. ” His eyes are filled with unbelievable sorrow. “It is pure evil.”

“And you, of all people, are a vessel of goodness? Right!”

He starts walking around the room, restlessly and wringing his hands. So many secrets, so many weird alliances. I am tired of it.

“You order other people what to do, how to behave, what to think and where to live. A true empire of dust and dirt. You absorb other tribes or destroy them in order to make your own realm stronger.”

He turns away from me. “We must be united as one nation against Cunabula and the humans of Amnion. They are both a threat against...”

“No more.” I throw myself down on the futon bed. “You were in my head far too often. Stop talking!”

Vicomte Ankoù is gone when I look up from my pillows. Automatically, I make it to the door, only to find it locked. I hammer against it until my fists turn bloody, but nobody answers me.

Finally, I lie down on the floor. There I bunch myself up like a new born eopie at its mother’s side.

When I return to consciousness, I am lying on my stomach. Somebody has bound my hands and feet with tight ropes. My back aches from the position I am in. The taste of mandrake root is in my mouth. I have been force fed the witch hunt potion.

The efforts Luçien has taken in creating my bonds terrify me. He has implemented methods that I have seen at legal proceedings for prisoners of the Holy Inquisition.

“I will not hurt you, Grianán. You will do that yourself by moving. The only solution that I see for you is to do your best to keep as still as possible.”

There it is again, this Elfin name. Through time and space it calls out to me, seeking my attention. There is a need.

The sky is nearly dark when I awake to more pain shaking my limbs. I cough droplets of blood. My inner damages are as great as the outer ones. I have absorbed too much of the dark side energies. They twine themselves around my veins like the tentacles of poison ivy, leaking into my blood stream.

Through my equally traumatized Midi-chlorians, I check each organ and cell in my body. The conclusion is grim: the abrupt drop in blood minerals has provoked muscular micro-seizures throughout my body. If I remain untreated for long, muscle damage and my blurred vision will become permanent.

My head hurts from the sheer force of all the mental input that just rushed through it.

“A girl,” I mutter.

After a while I feel uncomfortable. Somebody is watching me.

I find a Lidérc woman looking down on me. She is but a shimmering shade of blue. Her features are hauntingly familiar. “The belonging you seek is not behind you. It is ahead.”

With a yelp I shut my eyes. “Go away!” I tell my dead mother. To see ghosts is never a good sign.

I feel her lingering on.

“Go away!” I repeat stubbornly and start banging my brow against the tiles. My vain hope is that this helps me to banish her.

Blood starts running down my face.

“Stop hurting yourself, Isabeau!” Vicomte Ankoù says from right behind me. He sounds more concerned than angry, clutches on to an overloaded tea tray. “For your own safety I have put you under house arrest. We will remain here until Senator Aletheia is ready to take off.”

I jump up, pushing the tray into his unmasked face. And I hope with all my might the brewery contains mandrake root. “I am not going, can you hear me?” I shout. “I am not going!”

He smiles very sad, whipping the hot tea from his cheeks and nose. “You have no choice here, Isabeau. The usage of a holocron is forbidden by law. The magic of Cunabula is a demonic thing.”

“And your Force powers are normal?” I yell, remembering his future talk with Sionnach O’Conghaile, the tramp. Enraged, I kick the brazen tea pot through the stone chamber.

“You have that power, too. In time, you’ll learn to use it as I have.”

“They should cast you out, freak! Not me! To even suggest to me that I...” My head feels on fire. I hope he stays out of my mind. Hope, that he does not recognize me for the clairvoyant that I am. “How dare you!”

Vicomte Ankoù makes the effort to reach out for my cheeks, but I do not let him touch me. That might trigger more unpleasant shadows of the future to come forth. “You are filled with anger and resentment,” he remarks.

I tell him straight away why. “My childhood memories were blown into oblivion. You tempered with them.”

“How unfortunate!” he sighs.

“Unfortunate that I know the truth?” I thunder.

“Can’t you see that I did all to keep you away from harm? But you manage to get yourself into trouble over and over again.”

“And whose fault is this now?”

“That golem played you like a sitar. She split us apart and won you over for her dark princess.”

A very discreet knock sounds from the other side of the door.

“Vicomte Ankoù, my friend, are you ready?”

He gives me a long, desperate look. Then his left hand moves, the fingers stretched out. An invisible force grounds me, suppresses my motor skills. There is no escape. Next, I am rendered unconscious.

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

When I can move again I am trapped in a technical environment that is not known to me. Weird smells, colours and sounds surround me. As I look around in blind panic, I must ascertain that my step-brother has tricked me. Against my will I am on-board a space ship.

The desert is alive and this metal box is not. Like Vicomte Ankoù’s soul it is just an empty shell.

“I hope that I packed the right things for you,” I hear him say, actually so gentle that I cannot close my ears to his words. “The Desert of Colours almost has the same climate as Sapuhru, but there is also an annual time of rain fall. They call it munson.”

Will he never shout up?

“Agathos has arranged that you can use the former summer palace of his mother-in-law. That might keep you away from Arcānā for a while. She seldom goes there. Too many bad memories she cannot cope with.”

I put my hands over my ears. It does not help overly much. A strange vibration goes through my unwanted environment. I drill my claws deep into the leather of the seats.

“We have taken off,” Vicomte Ankoù informs me. „You better get your security belt on! Here I’ll help you.“

I shake so much with fear, that he has no trouble to nurse me like a concerned nanny. When the security belt closes around me though, I find enough strength to struggle violently against it.

“Poor Isabeau!” he purrs, while patting my head. “This is of course your first interplanetary journey.”

Unnatural calmness comes over me, due to his fingers being in my hair and massaging my skin. I hate him invading all that is meant to be me: my body, my thoughts, my emotions and my memories.

With dry eyes I watch Sapuhru become smaller and smaller, a ruby glowing on a carpet of darkness.

“I will die right here and right now!” I manage to get out between clenched lips.

“Not when I can prevent it,” Vicomte Ankoù assures me.

I hate his smugness. It makes me sick. He acts as if he has the power over life and death. “You have no power over me,” I snarl.

He just gazes at me with sad eyes that speak a language on their own. A language that does not reach my heart any longer.

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

Out in space time becomes meaningless. I feel so small and vulnerable, hardly dare to glance out of the small cabin window. Even though distant stars twinkle in the carpet of endless night, I fear that I will never see the sunlight again. I do not like the metal floor under my very feet either.

“I am not made for this,” I whisper.

Vicomte Ankoù does comment on my remark.

When the giant oceans of Draconis fills my view I stop breathing. I never have seen so much water ever before.

The strange green of the continent underneath me frightens me even more. And the jungle seems to come closer and closer. It is like a claw shooting out to catch me.

“Don’t be afraid. I feel it, too.” Vicomte Ankoù is very tense now.

As I gaze at him, he turns into a bend warrior looking up to a helpless girl, who is strapped into a strange looking chair. When I blink the vision is gone again.

“Arcānā must have felt me coming,” I hear my foe mutter. “I should have been more careful.”

“I doubt very much that the dauphine can feel you out here in space. She can neither hear you, smell you or see you. This is ridiculous!”

“Never ever underestimate that dreadful creature,” Vicomte Ankoù whispers. “She is the product of generations of selected breeding and dangerous teachings.”

His nervousness is strangely transparent for me. Even though he wears his war mask and gloves now, his movements have an edgy touch to them.

We are entering the atmosphere and a strange glow surrounds the star ship.

The cloud formations that we fly through are enormous. No wonder that about three quarter of this world consists out of water. The sky above Sapuhru is very different.

The rainforest is actually scary. It seems to frame a giant river with countless side arms. I can see no clear separation between vegetation and water. I suppose that most land animals have to either swim or climb to make their way through this dense jungle environment. Only birds and fish, a very rare species on my home world, might to have a clear advantage.

I want to go back to the desert and spend the rest of my life in complete solitude.

There is a young voice in my head suddenly, “But old Ben lives somewhere out on the fringe of the Western Dune Sea. He’s kind of a local character.”

I shake my head to get rid of the acoustic shadow of the future.

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(To be continued!)