Star Wars: Slave Of Darkness

Pointing my left hand towards the crate, I mustered my anger before projecting it. Sparks of electricity crackled around my hand before leaping from my fingers…to harmlessly disperse into the air five feet away from my target, three feet away from my arm.

"GAH! Shit!" I bit out as pain flashed through my hand and arm, disrupting my efforts. I shook my hand to disperse the lingering feeling of static electricity.

Force Lightning wasn't nearly as intuitive to learn as you'd think. You couldn't just throw your anger at something and expect to suddenly become Zeus without consequences. Anger was just the catalyst and fuel for the process, though its "exhaust" could be felt in the lightning.

It was split half and half between conscious action and the unconscious. There are plenty of moments where a Force User has unintentionally lashed out with Force Lightning during a moment of all-consuming rage. What you're doing is effectively turning yourself into a humanoid storm cloud.

Positive ions and negative ions are separated to create electrostatic discharge, with the latter gathering at your fingertips. The resulting discharge is directed towards the positive charge of the target, like when lightning strikes the ground.

While the average Sith has enough of a scientific education to understand this phenomenon, they don't consciously separate the ions. It's just something that's automatically done. Honestly, I'd be worried if a Force User was capable of consciously manipulating something on the subatomic scale.

However, generating the charge was the easy part. Channeling it without hurting yourself was decidedly more difficult. Continuing with the lightning cloud metaphor, most of the lightning strikes were actually happening inside your body as the electricity jumped between the positive and negative charges. The challenge was keeping it from hitting anything sensitive on the way out and making sure it didn't rebound.

More than one acolyte has died by accidentally inducing cardiac arrest in themselves.

After a day of rest and bacta treatments following Renning's…disciplinary action, I took several days to practice with this new tool, moving myself and some supplies to a cave outside of the camp. I hadn't put much thought into learning it before.

It was too flashy and my telekinesis was much more versatile, not to mention that there were other skills that were higher on my priority list. But then, learning how it works also meant learning how to deal with it. While telekinetic barriers could block a lot of things, I wasn't certain how it would handle lightning.

So I accessed the academy archive's electronic database on my datapad and did some research. There are Sith scholars that study Force phenomenon extensively, so it wasn't hard to find articles on how it worked. After spending a few hours reading, I started out small, working my way up to a bigger and bigger charge as I got used to directing it.

By the end of the first day, the fingertips on my left hand were charred black from electrical burns and it hurt like hell, but I managed to avoid having the lightning rebound further into my body. Thankfully, bacta was a fucking miracle drug and my fingers were usable again by the next morning.

By the end of the second day, I could generate a charge around my hand without injuring myself. Not strong enough to kill, but just enough to daze a target. And now on the third day…

I raised my hand again, mentally adjusting the paths I was imagining in my arm. Using my frustration as fuel, I jumpstarted the process again. Power started building between the positive ions in my chest and the negative ions in my fingertips.

It wanted to escape, to run rampant through my body. But I forced it to travel along the imaginary wires I pictured, a predesigned path that would avoid major muscle groups and nerve clusters. Even then, I still felt the tingle of static electricity as it went.

It wanted to rebound, to travel back towards the positive charge in my chest. But the barriers I constructed behind it as it sped down my arm only gave it one direction to go.

Thunder cracked as a bolt of lightning tore across the space between myself and the crate. Where it touched, it scorched the metal and sparks of electricity briefly danced across its surface.

It cut off as soon as it had started. I wasn't dumb enough to try for a prolonged stream yet.

I clenched and unclenched my hand a few times, testing for injuries. Other than the residual feeling from my previous attempt, I didn't find anything new. Taking out my medkit, I wrapped my hand in bacta-laced bandages.

Prolonged exposure to Sith Lightning can cause nerve damage if not treated with liberal applications of the substance. I'd prefer to head that off before it becomes a problem.

Despite the pain, I grinned.

There wasn't really a standardized training schedule for prospective Sith in the Korriban Academy, as the curriculum tended to change based on the needs of the potential master. Only a few things stayed constant, one of which was the final trial, which would take place in the tomb of Naga Sadow. There were also some trends that became apparent when you watched long enough.

Most acolytes spent their first year figuring out how to use the Force at all, rather than trying to experiment too much. Because of that, they usually didn't touch Force Lightning until their second year after their confidence had built up.

Some had the advantage of either prior education or self-teaching before reaching the Academy, made up of either fallen Jedi, scions of Sith families, or the odd freak of nature. All three were rare for different reasons. The first were usually eliminated or captured by the Jedi before they got far, not to mention it was rare for them to fall in the first place.

For the second, Sith families are usually small to prevent conflicts over inheritance. Like, say, two siblings killing each other after murdering mom and dad for their last credit and screwing over everyone. Also, they tended to get pushed through the academy fairly quickly.

As for the last? Well, self-taught Force Adepts usually managed to off themselves somehow before getting discovered or get offed by someone because they were dangerous. I didn't count myself among their number since I knew going in what was possible and what was a bad idea, so I wasn't fumbling as much.

Point is, unless you had unusual circumstances, you probably weren't going to go beyond the norm if you wanted to have a decent lifespan. Get the basics down, then start going crazy.

I was drawn out of my thoughts by the chime of my commlink. Upon activating it, the device displayed a familiar figure.

"Overseer," I greeted simply.

"Acolyte," Iren acknowledged. Unless he was speaking to us in a group, he usually didn't use our names and simply referred to us by title, "Lord Renning reported that you were working with him on his…project. That places you near the tomb of Marka Ragnos."

I merely nodded in confirmation.

Judging by the grimace on his face, it looked like Iren disagreed with the validity of Renning's experiments. An interesting little factoid, but not really something I can use, given the Overseer's dedication to remaining impartial. I was more interested in the fact that he was keeping tabs on our whereabouts.

It was understandable. Each acolyte was an investment of resources to bring to the academy. To lose them like car keys in a couch was a waste. While a lot of overseers didn't care, Iren didn't seem the wasteful type.

Then the last part of his statement registered.

My heartbeat stopped for a second, "My second trial?"

"Yes," He confirmed, "Lord Renning stated that your tracking skills were adequate to hunt rogue Tu'kata with a measure of success, barring a mistake or two."

One of his eyebrow ridges twitched slightly up in what I judged to be a challenging expression.

My jaw clenched slightly, though I didn't rise to the bait.

A small smirk formed on his face for a split second before it disappeared, "In any case, your skills are why this task has fallen to you in particular."

He retrieved his datapad and typed something. A moment later, my own pinged as I received a message. Opening it, I scanned the contents, though it contained little more than a picture, a name, and a physical description.

The man in the picture looked to be in his mid-twenties, with sharp brown eyes staring out from a weathered tan face. His musculature, combined with his buzz cut and clean-shaven jaw, practically screamed military.

However, his most distinctive feature was the long, thin scar running from his forehead, down the right side of his face, and over his jawline.

"Castor Vol," Iren started the briefing, "Overall, a promising third year acolyte with a bright future under a prominent Lord.

Or he was. Four days ago, he abruptly went rogue, killing four acolytes and wounding an overseer before fleeing for the Valley of the Dark Lords. He was last spotted in your vicinity, heading for the tomb of Marka Ragnos."

I noted that he deliberately left out the man's history. Perhaps to keep me from empathizing with it. He didn't need to worry on that front.

"Track 'em, find 'em, kill 'em?" I asked as my grin started working its way back onto my face.

If he noted my enthusiasm, Iren didn't show it, "And if you can, discover why he did it. Perhaps if we possess that information, we may prevent more…destructive defections in the future."

"It will be done," I answered.

The overseer only nodded before hanging up. I didn't waste time.

I picked up every bit of gear I could carry and still stay mobile. Grenades, guns, etc. A third-year acolyte was no joke as they were practically a Sith Apprentice at that point.

I was going to need every advantage I could get. Once I was ready, I headed out to my swoop bike and shot off towards the tomb.

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The first book has been completed on Patreon, alongside the second book. You can visit Patreon if you want to read in Advance.

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