𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐘-𝐒𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍 ⸺ 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐚𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐞.

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Art by Peurankuu on Deviantart (edited).

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2047 hours. Year 7963 (14 BBY).
Star Destroyer "Collider", Outer Rim.

CAL.

⚡︎ ⁺. ◍ 。

         𝓣HERE WAS ONE thing Cal knew for sure: he was late for training.

"Where are you runnin' to, kid?" Pusher asked, amused, the yellow of his armor standing out next to the grey walls.

Cal ran past him, saluting him with a wave of the hand. "Master Tapal is waiting for me! Gotta go!"

The chuckle of the trooper followed him as he ran down corridor after corridor, waving at each trooper he encountered, pushing back his Padawan braid from his face. Finally, the training room doors came in sight, Cal stopping abruptly, his breath short. Hopefully his master wouldn't be too angry of his late arrival. The doors opened, revealing the vast training room, but his master wasn't anywhere to be seen. However, someone else was present, their back turned on him, standing right in the middle of the room.

As Cal approached in a hesitating pace, the stranger turned around: a young girl dressed in traditional Padawan attire, with half-up long raven hair and sharp blue eyes. Her padawan braid rested on her shoulder, and her glance lightened up when she saw Cal. "There you are!" She exclaimed with a large grin. "Come on, we have to start!"

Cal's eyes narrowed, before widening, eyebrows raising. "Væmas? What are you doing here?"

She looked at him as if he had asked if she wanted to play with a rancor. "To start training, silly!" She responded like it was the most obvious thing in the world, her crystalline laugh echoing on the walls. She winked at him as cubes started to rise from the floors and the walls, Væmas whirling around to jump on them, higher and higher.

"Wait!" Cal raced at her pursuit, but she was faster. Too fast. He jumped from cube to cube, getting closer and closer to the ceiling. Væmas had already reached the top of the room, and turned to him, her large grin still placated on her lips. But as their eyes met, Cal could've sworn he saw a glimpse of yellow instead of blue. Before he could make sure, the wall Væmas was standing before slid to the right, revealing an opening plunged in the dark.

She jumped in, her chuckle still resonating around, as Cal struggled to follow her, his steps more and more hesitant as the darkness surrounded him. He ended up stopping, breathing heavily, all his senses clouded. He tried to turn around to retrace his steps, but the same darkness had deployed behind him. "Væmas?" He called out, unable to conceal the spark of panic from his voice.

His call echoed in all directions, with no answer in return but one. The igniting sound of a lightsaber. Red light spread out from behind him, devouring the dark as acid. He whirled around towards the source of the sound. Væmas had now much shorter hair and looked older, her Jedi attire replaced by one similar to a mercenary's. Cal looked down on himself, seeing that his Padawan outfit had been replaced by a scrapper poncho. He looked back up at Væmas, who stood on her knees, a red blade held in front of her neck. The one holding it slowly raised their head at Cal, but all he could see was a mask, the darkness seemingly emanating from the figure.

Væmas laughed. She looked peaceful, happy. In a way, it was scarier than if she had looked terrified. And when she talked, still smiling, her voice resonated around like it was through a speaker. "That's how it was supposed to happen."

𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐌𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 - 𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐤𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐬 Where stories live. Discover now