Enjoy
Feed
me with a Kiss
“Welcome
outsider.” The Singing Mountain Matriarch poured him some tea in his cup. She
was older than the rest of her clan, but unlike her other Matriarch
contemporaries, she retained her usual radiance. Despite her apparent age she was
still precise and graceful: in face, to Wraith she looked exactly like an aged
version of his saviour.
On
his march back to their village, Wraith had reverted back to his usual self.
Pushing his newly arisen feelings aside, he immersed himself in the Force,
seeing things for what they were. He saw two things: the first that this clan
of witches were more in tune with the Light Side of the Force, albeit not like
Jedi. The way the witches approached their use of the Force was nothing like Wraith
had ever seen before. When comparing them to Jedi, it was like they played the
same melody as Jedi but on a different instrument and at a very different pace.
“Thank
you,” he replied as he drank the tea. It tasted bitter and light. The Matriarch
smiled in return.
“Your
business is with our kind, is it not?” she asked. Wraith understood her
connection with the Force and how both their minds were linked through it.
“It
is. I have come to seek one of your kind to join me in my endeavours.”
“Why
a Dathomirian?”
“The
Force showed me.”
“What
do these endeavours entail?”
“The
Force gives me direction. But I know of Sith that need to be eliminated,” said Wraith.
“But
you are not a Jedi replied the Matriarch. “That much is clear about you.”
Wraith
told her his story, recounting everything to the aged Witch. She listened
intently until he finished, gently sipping her tea.
“I
have felt this disturbance for some time now,” she finally said. “But we are
only concerned by ourselves and our clans. This is simply the way we are.” She
rose. Wraith thought that her words meant she was unwilling to help him.
“There
is however an anomaly within the Singing Mountain Clan,” continued the Matriarch.
“Just like the Sith, Ventress, was destined to roam the galaxy so is one of my
very own acolytes.”
“Come
on in, Elara,” she said with a loud voice. There was a surprised shuffle
outside of the tent and the beautiful witch entered. She bowed deeply before
her elder and knelt next to Wraith. She refused to look at him and fixed her
eyes on the kettle; acting like a child who was caught in the act.
The
Matriarch laughed. “It seems that my child has taken a liking to you,
Outsider.” Blood rose to Elara’s cheek. Wraith’s gaze was still on her, taking
in every angular and delicate feature.
“And
the interest appears to be reciprocated,” chuckled the older woman. It was
Wraith’s turn to look away.
“Fascination
of a different life and fascination of connection to the Force,” continued the
Matriarch. “It seems you two have intertwining destinies.”
She
rose prompting the other two to follow her. “I am willing to let go of my child
Elara,” she said. “But your endeavours will end in misery. You require better
understanding of who you are, Outsider, if you are to succeed.”
“What
do you have in mind?” asked Wraith.
A
sly smile appeared on the old woman’s face. “I will let Elara educate you in
the ways of the Singing Mountain. Like you, we are balanced. Like you, we are
strong. Now you must learn to live with who you are.”
Her
foot crushed his throat and Wraith was sent flying backwards.
“This
is our way of life,” she stated.
Wraith
channelled the Force to heal his injuries and stood up. “Kicking men in the
neck?” he rasped.
She
ignored him. “We breathe the Force, we live on the Force. Every step I take is
enhanced by the Force, every notion is deliberate and every word a spell.”
Wraith
approached her in a fighting stance. Both of them were deprived of any weapons.
Elara had taken him to an empty field and demanded him to show her what he knew
of the Force. Before he could blink, she was already kicking him.
Wraith
opened himself to the Force: it healed his wounds, it made him faster and
stronger, it enhanced his senses telling him where and when his opponent will
strike and even where to hit back. As he moved closer he heard her mutter
something in a language he did not comprehend. She let out a gust of wind: it
spiralled and his face with the power of an actual blow. His head twisted
unnaturally due to the wind currents.
“We
use the Force to shape our spells,” she said. “We control nature.” Fire sprung
from her hands. Her fireball would have damaged him had Wraith not unleashed
his own Force blast. He disappeared, planning to reappear behind her. Elara’s
hand swung, catching Wraith in the jaw as he reappeared.
“I
can see how far the rift in space goes. I know where you would go.” Wraith
Force gripped some dirt and flung it in her eyes. He followed up, driving his
knee in her stomach.
“Tell
me, witch,” he said still reeling from her assault. “Did I perhaps threaten you
when I was a Sith? Or is it the fact that I am your equal?”
She
flew at him, throwing him in the ground. They rolled, a mess of links and dirt,
each struggling for the top position. He kicked her off and shot lightning at
her. She redirected it into a blast. Wraith had a Force grip on her leg and
they both flew.
Wraith
slammed against a tree. He heard his vertebrae crack. Vines came to life,
entangling him to the trunk. Elara’s hands wrapped around his neck and she
freed one to charge a lightning bolt. Wraith could barely breathe and did the
one thing his instincts told him to.
He
titled his head forwards and locked lips with the witch.
The
sheer shock of the sudden kiss disrupted Elara’s concentration. The vines
receded and her strength ebbed. Wraith broke the kiss and turned them suddenly.
Their faces were inches away, a fierce look in their eyes. Both their hands
were in front of their body: lightning, ferocious red from him and incandescent
white from her, sparked angrily at each other. Neither one striking and yet the
pressure of the Force power built up until the lightning exploded in a shower
of sparks.
Elara
looked shaken.
“Never
speak of this again,” she said in frustrated tones as she walked away from
Wraith.
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