[Story] Torn From Within - Sheros Uvosi

[Trisdane]

Chapter 1: One Life Ends

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With heavy eyelids he slowly blinked his eyes open, looking around the bunks as a dream of home was disturbed. Still in a dreamy stupor he looked around in a daze as the other Agricorps workers bustled around in the early dawn

"Come on Sheros, you don't want to be late again!"

A pack was thrown into his lap that jolted him wide awake, rubbing his eyes to banish the last of the weariness. He stood up and looked around. It seemed like any other day, save for one thing, an unfamiliar itch in the back of his mind that he couldn't shake.

"What's the matter, Sheros, Manka got your tongue?"

With a laugh the young worker shook his head and rubbed the back of his head.

"No, no.. just feeling off this morning, Vecton. Guess I didn't sleep well."

"Nothing a hard day's work won't cure, if you're not better by the evening we'll go see Knight Arcos."

"Knight Arcos? So she's come to see us one last time before she goes to the front, huh? They'll need all the healers they can get..."

The pair finished getting ready and headed out to the fields, it was a day as normal as any. Save for that itch in the back of Sheros' mind that he could not scratch...

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The pair worked in the fields and animal pens, following their usual rotation through their day's duties. As dusk fell they took to the fields of tall crops where they could sneak an extra moment of rest away from the gaze of their superiors. Sheros' rest was disturbed, the itch in his mind grew sharper and he sat up - looking around.

"What is it, do you sense something?"

"I don't know, Vecton... that feeling, something being off. I think we should get back."

"Alright, alright.. you were never one to be in tune with The Force, though..."

Sheros punched Vecton in the shoulder and both laughed as they made their way through the fields of tall crops, that ill feeling eventually subsiding as friends walked and talked.

Sheros felt an unexpected tap on his right shoulder and as he turned he saw a movement in the corner of his eye, a blur of red and black followed by something swinging - Vecton already falling to the ground. His eyes opened in panic as he recognised the impossible. It was a Pureblood, face adorned with platinum piercings and talon scars, in the robes of a Sith Acolyte. How were they here? Why were they here? Thoughts raced through his eyes as he looked into the vibrant golden eyes before the stun baton connected with his jaw and all was black before he even hit the floor.

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With heavy eyelids he slowly blinked his eyes open, looking around the interior of a shuttle as his senses came back to him. He groaned and pushed himself half upright. Immediately, he noticed that his wrists and ankles were bound and there were a multitude of other bound Initiates piled on top of each other within the shuttle. He saw various black robed figures around him, several human females, a zabrak, nagai and then that same Pureblood that he possessed only a flicker of a memory of. The Pureblood sat with Vecton pinned underfoot, like some sort of hunting trophy, as their pierced and scarred face pointed directly towards Sheros, their gazes meeting and the Pureblood's vibrant golden eyes burned into his own. The unknown Pureblood pushed himself to his feet and he heard a name spoken by one who wielded lightsabers.

"Arvanis, we need them all alive.."

The Pureblood looked aside and flashed a toothy grin as he took measured steps towards the defiant Mirialan.

"Oh, they'll all be alive.."

The same grin was flashed to Sheros, along with a mocking shrug, before the stun baton was swung once again. Spinning Sheros' jaw and sending him back into the abyssal black...

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[Trisdane]

Chapter 2: Another Begins

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With heavy eyelids he slowly blinked his eyes open, looking around he expected to see the bunks that he woke up in each morning but he saw only an unfamiliar and cold durasteel plated room. He came to his senses when the sharp pain in his head set in, remembering what happened. He tried to sit up but found himself restrained by the neck, wrists, waist and ankles. Fixed to a metallic bed.

"What the-.. what is this?Where am I?!"

Fighting against his restraints he looked around again and saw it... a durasteel operating table like the one he was fixed to. The first thing he noticed was the pale arm that hung limply over the side of the table, a lattice of deliberate and fresh cuts criss-crossing their way down the arm with crimson streams meandering their way down the limb and dripping down from the fingers to form a sickly puddle below. Making his way up the arm he came to a scarred and bloodied face that was almost unrecognisable, if not for the sapphire blue eyes that stared emptily at Sheros. Sheros' wide-eyed horror was broken by a chuckle and the body was dragged from the table, hitting the floor with a heavy thud.

"Vecton! What have you done to hi-"

As anger pooled up within Sheros and he thrashed against his restraints, trying to break free to rush over to Vecton, he was stopped dead by a sudden and powerful grip on his jaw. A cold metal gauntlet that grasped and turned his gaze away from Vecton and to the red-eyed mask that peered into his eyes. He felt his mind under intense pressure, an invasive and oppressive force against him, and his anger quickly turned into fear. He laid there, frozen. The figure looked into his eyes before releasing an almost satisfied metallic exhale. Patting his shoulder in a twisted imitation of reassuring him.

"Don't worry, he's still alive - though he begged for death. I'm sure you will too..."

Sheros did not thrash against his restraints, he did not embrace his fear for strength. He shut his eyes tight and tried to remember his training, suppressing the emotions that arose from within as best he could, muttering quietly to himself..

"There is no emotion, there is peace. There is no ignorance, there is knowledge. There is no passion, there is serenity. There is no chaos, there is harmony. There is no death, there is the force. There is no emotion there is-.."

"Peace is a lie, there is only passion!"

The masked figure roared, chuckling to himself after as he rustled around on an operating table and causing multiple metallic clunks and scrapes. Eventually he selected a scalpel and lifted it between their two faces, inspecting the blade before tracing the flat of it against Sheros' cheek.

"For you, though... there will be only pain. Until you learn -the truth-. Let's start with this pretty face, shall we?"

The first, of many, incisions was made into the flesh of Sheros' face. Causing him to cry out in pain and thrash against his restraints to no avail as his tormentor released another chuckle that was distorted by the intimidating mask. Sheros shut his eyes as tight as he could and repeated the Jedi Code over and over again in his mind, anything to distract from the pain. Until a combination of pain and blood loss caused the young Mirialan to lose consciousness...

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With heavy eyelids he slowly blinked his eyes open, looking around he saw the same cold durasteel room. There was no sun, no windows to judge the passing of time. He was strapped to the table with tubes connected to his body in various places, food, water and various stimulants pumped into him to prevent hunger, thirst and even the aching or atrophying of muscles. He did not have the luxury of eating, drinking or even moving and could not even judge the passing of time by the comings and goings of hunger. He laid there, staring up at the constantly flickering light, stewing in a combination of agony and complete hatred. He didn't know how long it had been, but he knew that reciting the code and suppressing his emotions only caused his tormentors to try harder. Every inch of his body had been defiled, scarred and disfigured. Every inch covered in a lattice of fresh wounds that sent pain signals, amplified by one of the stimulants flowing through his veins, directly to his brain with nothing to distract him from them.. until he heard a new voice from outside.

"To the Logistics division..."

"Yes, My Lord. And this one?"

He recognised the voice of his tormentor and as he was addressed he felt a new presence, overwhelming in potency and darkness, reach into his mind. Judging every shred of his being.

"To the Horuset Acolyte system.."

"The Mirialan? My Lord, he hasn't even been to one of the Academ-.."

"My decision is made. With any luck he dies within the month and we have met the quotas."

"Ah, I see... very good, My Lord. Your will be done."

The same chuckle that had haunted Sheros for years was the last he ever heard of his tormentor as the heavy metal boots strode away down the corridor. His stimulants were ceased moments after and he began to fall unconscious once again...

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[Trisdane]

Chapter 3: A New World

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Sheros looked to the other Acolytes sat around the camp, peering through the deep greens and shadows of the undergrowth. He saw Purebloods and humans sat around the campfire. Their tents sheltering them from the pounding rain and the fire illuminating their gloom whilst providing warmth with even an alien or two clinging on to the edges of the group, surviving on scraps. He saw laughter, warmth and even... joy, but also saw the mask that it was, the peril hidden beneath.

He watched for a few more moments before deciding this was not his place, not his comfort to share, he turned his back on the Acolyte camp and vanished into the gloom of the Kaasian undergrowth. Eventually he found a small clearing near the shallows of the lake and set himself down, staring into his reflection in the shadows. He sighed.

"I.. what should I do? I can't escape, they want me dead..."

Sheros looked up to the sky at the sudden crack of thunder and flinched as a large rain drop hit his face, looking back to his reflection in the water. The scarred face was already something, someone, that he struggled to recognise but the relentless raindrops distorted the shape in the water further until it was a faceless green blur. He stared for a while before swallowing dryly.

"Is survival even worth it.. I've failed the Jedi, I've failed myself. Maybe I am better off dead, I don't know what I will become if I survive here..."

Let his head fall back so that the weight caused him to fall back until he laid flat on the mud with his legs still crossed, staring up at the rainfall and droplets that battered against his scarred and bruised face. He laid there for some time, long enough for his robes to become saturated with mud and water. Eventually he uttered a single sentence...

"I don't want to die..."

His voice croaked and his emotions, sorrow, sadness and grief, flared up at the confession. He pushed himself to his feet, refusing to simply die in the woods from exposure, and returned to the large tree that he found. Climbing up into it for shelter and wringing as much water from his robes as he could. He curled himself into a ball and wrapped himself in branches of leaves for warmth...

[Trisdane]

Chapter 4: The Cost of Success

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Sheros disembarked the shuttle that brought them back from their first Trial, keeping his head low and hood raised to conceal his face. His presence was dampened to hide his emotions and, as soon as they were dismissed and others turned their backs to him, he slipped behind the shuttle and rushed into the undergrowth; heading towards the large tree that had become his shelter in this harsh landscape.

"Why... why did I do that?"

His voice cracked, a tremble in his throat that barely held back the tears, and he moved to sit with his back against a rock near the water so that he was hidden from view to most of the estate. He rested his head back against the rock and released a long exhale. He spoke again with a quivering voice.

"I... I didn't mean to kill him, I.. I only needed their blood..."

A sudden wave of tears overcame him and he wailed briefly in distress before inhaling sharply to cut the noise off, looking over his shoulder in the direction of the bridge. He sat there in silence for a few moments before his reflection in the water caught his gaze, it almost felt as if it was watching him even though he was looking away. He crawled closer and leant over his reflection, looking himself in his bloodshot teary eyes.

"Was it worth it?

"Wh-what?"

Sheros quickly shook his head, closing his eyes as the tears dried away. Distracted from his grief in his confusion. He looked around, sure that someone else was nearby before his body froze up and he slowly looked back to the reflection, scared of what he might see. He felt like the reflection had never looked away from him and yet, somehow, he felt like he couldn't recognise himself. Like it was someone else in the water looking back.

"They were innocent, they did nothing to you... and you pushed them into a fire. Was it worth it, all that pain for the word 'Success' on your notes?"

Eyes widening in fear he scrambled back away from the water, slipping in the mud more than once as he rushed to the tree for a sense of shelter and protection. He clambered high into the branches and curled himself into a ball, limbs trembling in fear. And all that time, he was sure he could hear a distant laughter that mocked him. He told himself the other Acolytes were celebrating in the camp nearby and he wrapped himself in a stolen blanket, high in the canopy, and shivered until slumber eventually claimed him...