Abeloth's Home Planet [several days later, GFFA time]
The journey from Coruscant had taken days and Abeloth had refused to allow her captives either water or food, urging them instead to throw off the shackles of mortality and claim their destiny. Ben, she insisted, was to become the eternal Prince of Light, and he would keep burning the twin flames of justice and forgiveness. Vestara was to become the irresistible Daughter of the Night. She would guard the forbidden mysteries of the Force-and she would bring life to the galaxy by filling dreams with images of beauty and desire. Together, the three of them would become the Ones, and they would live forever and remake the galaxy however it suited them.
Ben and Vestara, naturally, had told her that was, in Ben's Fandom-enhanced vocabulary, "fucking nuts", and now they were standing back-to-back in the yellow fog that surrounded the Font of Power. Their noses and throats were raw from its caustic steam, their eyes were burning, but they were so dehydrated that their bodies were imploring them to drink-and it did not matter that the water was so tainted with dark side energy that it made them shudder inside. Their heads were pounding and their vision was blurring, and their thoughts were coming slow and muddled. They had to drink or die-and when faced with those choices, the body always chose to drink.
Vestara’s shoulder shifted against Ben’s, and he could tell that she was looking toward the Font … no doubt wondering the same thing he was, what would happen if they drank, whether there was any way they could risk even a sip.
“Don’t do it, Ves.” Ben’s throat was so dry and swollen that words came out as a croak. “That has to be what she wants, why she didn’t let us drink on the trip. So we’d drink from the Font.”
Vestara’s shoulder did not shift back. “That might be better than dying, Ben.”
“Think so?” Ben asked. “You remember what happened to Taalon, right?”
“That was the Pool of Knowledge,” Vestara pointed out. “And he fell in.”
“And this is the Font of Power,” Ben replied. “I can feel the dark side gushing out. Do you really think you can touch that and not turn into the kind of freak he became?”
“That might be better than dying,” Vestara repeated.
A swirl appeared in the fog a few meters ahead, and Abeloth spoke in her multiple voices. “You see, Ben? She cannot be trusted to resist temptation.” The swirl approached closer and resolved into a ghostly face. The face had tiny silver eyes and a too-wide mouth full of pointed fangs. “That is why I brought you here-so that you would learn whom you can truly trust.”
Vestara pivoted around to stand at Ben’s side. “And that would be you?” She snorted. "You're holding us captive."
“You are holding yourself captive, Vestara,” Abeloth said. She raised an arm, and four fluttering tentacles pointed toward the churning fountain next to them. “The power you crave is there. It is Ben holding you back-not I.” With a laugh that made the hair on the back of Ben's neck stand up, Abeloth disappeared.
Vestara pivoted to stand back-to-back again. “In case you didn’t notice the last hundred times we tried to leave the courtyard, we’re kind of outclassed here. No way are we getting past Abeloth to safe water.”
“Probably not.” Ben tipped his head as far as he could toward Vestara, then whispered, “But we just have to hold on. Dad’s on his way-I can feel him reaching out to me in the Force. He’ll be here as soon as he can,” Ben said. “I tried to let him know we’re desperate.” He'd also hoped that Luke hadn't passed that along to Ender, whose presence he'd also felt.
“Well, that’s something, I guess.”
“It’s hope,” Ben replied quickly. “And hope is enough to get us through this … as long as we stick together.”
Vestara fell silent for a moment, then said, “I’m with you, Ben. That’s not going to chaaa … aaaigh!” Vestara screamed as she stumbled back into Ben. He spun around instantly and found Abeloth already on Vestara, tentacles probing for her mouth and nose. Lacking a lightsaber or any other sort of weapon, Ben stepped into the melee and slammed a palm-heel into the center of Abeloth’s chest, at the same time hitting her with a panic-fueled blast of Force energy.
Abeloth went flying, doubled over, trailing a spray of bloody bile.
Ben found himself staring in amazement at the cone of red mist that Abeloth had left behind, surprised by the power of the Force blast he had just unleashed. He felt cold and queasy from the effects of so much dark-side energy, and had he not been so thoroughly dehydrated already, he probably would have vomited.
“Ben?” Vestara grabbed his arm and stepped in close, propping him up. “Are you okay?”
“I will be, as soon as I get rid of this rot inside,” he said, jerking a thumb toward the Font of Power. “The Force is corrupt this close to the fountain. It's all dark side.”
Vestara turned toward the pillar of dark water. “We may have to use it anyway, Ben. The Force is all we have to protect ourselves with.”
“No-it’s like poison,” Ben said. “We can’t use the Force until we get out of this fog.”
“Ben, we’re going to have to,” Vestara said. “It’s the only way to hold her off until your father arrives.”
Ben fell silent. Just a small taste of the Font’s dark side energies had convinced him that it would be better to die than to let himself be corrupted by its power. But of course, they wouldn’t die. Abeloth would take them as her avatars, just as she had done with Akanah and countless others, and they would learn the literal meaning of a fate worse than death. “Then we’re going to have to make a run for it,” Ben said. “She can’t be in two places at once, so at least one of us should be able to get clear.”
“And then what?” Vestara asked.
“And then we make sure that she doesn’t make an avatar out of the one who falls behind,” Ben said. “We’ve used the Force here before, so we know that the fountain’s corruption doesn’t extend for more than a few meters. Once we’re both clear, we can fight with the Force again.”
“So one of us is almost sure to die?” Vestara asked. “And the other one is going to have to do the killing?”
“Probably,” Ben said, “but it has to be better than the alternative.”
Vestara turned toward the Font. “That’s one way to look at it, I guess.”
Ben frowned, unsure of what Vestara was suggesting. “If you have another way, I’m all ears.”
“Maybe dying isn’t the best thing.” Vestara turned back to Ben and touched her hand to his chest. “Maybe there’s a reason we’re here … a reason that we were brought together in the first place.”
Ben’s frown grew deeper. “Like what?”
Vestara stepped back, as though his stern tone had pushed her away. “We need to follow the will of the Force, Ben.”
“And you know what that will is?”
Vestara nodded, turned toward the Font of Power. “I think I do, Ben.”
“I don’t like where this is headed,” Ben said, following her gaze. “Ves, you can’t be serious.”
Vestara continued to gaze into the Font’s dark waters. “But I am, Ben. If we both drank, together we would be stronger than Abeloth-probably strong enough to destroy her.” She reached out and took Ben’s hand. “And wouldn’t that be the best thing for the galaxy?”
Ben dropped her hand immediately. "No."
[OOC: Taken and modified from Troy Denning's Apocalypse!]
Ben and Vestara, naturally, had told her that was, in Ben's Fandom-enhanced vocabulary, "fucking nuts", and now they were standing back-to-back in the yellow fog that surrounded the Font of Power. Their noses and throats were raw from its caustic steam, their eyes were burning, but they were so dehydrated that their bodies were imploring them to drink-and it did not matter that the water was so tainted with dark side energy that it made them shudder inside. Their heads were pounding and their vision was blurring, and their thoughts were coming slow and muddled. They had to drink or die-and when faced with those choices, the body always chose to drink.
Vestara’s shoulder shifted against Ben’s, and he could tell that she was looking toward the Font … no doubt wondering the same thing he was, what would happen if they drank, whether there was any way they could risk even a sip.
“Don’t do it, Ves.” Ben’s throat was so dry and swollen that words came out as a croak. “That has to be what she wants, why she didn’t let us drink on the trip. So we’d drink from the Font.”
Vestara’s shoulder did not shift back. “That might be better than dying, Ben.”
“Think so?” Ben asked. “You remember what happened to Taalon, right?”
“That was the Pool of Knowledge,” Vestara pointed out. “And he fell in.”
“And this is the Font of Power,” Ben replied. “I can feel the dark side gushing out. Do you really think you can touch that and not turn into the kind of freak he became?”
“That might be better than dying,” Vestara repeated.
A swirl appeared in the fog a few meters ahead, and Abeloth spoke in her multiple voices. “You see, Ben? She cannot be trusted to resist temptation.” The swirl approached closer and resolved into a ghostly face. The face had tiny silver eyes and a too-wide mouth full of pointed fangs. “That is why I brought you here-so that you would learn whom you can truly trust.”
Vestara pivoted around to stand at Ben’s side. “And that would be you?” She snorted. "You're holding us captive."
“You are holding yourself captive, Vestara,” Abeloth said. She raised an arm, and four fluttering tentacles pointed toward the churning fountain next to them. “The power you crave is there. It is Ben holding you back-not I.” With a laugh that made the hair on the back of Ben's neck stand up, Abeloth disappeared.
Vestara pivoted to stand back-to-back again. “In case you didn’t notice the last hundred times we tried to leave the courtyard, we’re kind of outclassed here. No way are we getting past Abeloth to safe water.”
“Probably not.” Ben tipped his head as far as he could toward Vestara, then whispered, “But we just have to hold on. Dad’s on his way-I can feel him reaching out to me in the Force. He’ll be here as soon as he can,” Ben said. “I tried to let him know we’re desperate.” He'd also hoped that Luke hadn't passed that along to Ender, whose presence he'd also felt.
“Well, that’s something, I guess.”
“It’s hope,” Ben replied quickly. “And hope is enough to get us through this … as long as we stick together.”
Vestara fell silent for a moment, then said, “I’m with you, Ben. That’s not going to chaaa … aaaigh!” Vestara screamed as she stumbled back into Ben. He spun around instantly and found Abeloth already on Vestara, tentacles probing for her mouth and nose. Lacking a lightsaber or any other sort of weapon, Ben stepped into the melee and slammed a palm-heel into the center of Abeloth’s chest, at the same time hitting her with a panic-fueled blast of Force energy.
Abeloth went flying, doubled over, trailing a spray of bloody bile.
Ben found himself staring in amazement at the cone of red mist that Abeloth had left behind, surprised by the power of the Force blast he had just unleashed. He felt cold and queasy from the effects of so much dark-side energy, and had he not been so thoroughly dehydrated already, he probably would have vomited.
“Ben?” Vestara grabbed his arm and stepped in close, propping him up. “Are you okay?”
“I will be, as soon as I get rid of this rot inside,” he said, jerking a thumb toward the Font of Power. “The Force is corrupt this close to the fountain. It's all dark side.”
Vestara turned toward the pillar of dark water. “We may have to use it anyway, Ben. The Force is all we have to protect ourselves with.”
“No-it’s like poison,” Ben said. “We can’t use the Force until we get out of this fog.”
“Ben, we’re going to have to,” Vestara said. “It’s the only way to hold her off until your father arrives.”
Ben fell silent. Just a small taste of the Font’s dark side energies had convinced him that it would be better to die than to let himself be corrupted by its power. But of course, they wouldn’t die. Abeloth would take them as her avatars, just as she had done with Akanah and countless others, and they would learn the literal meaning of a fate worse than death. “Then we’re going to have to make a run for it,” Ben said. “She can’t be in two places at once, so at least one of us should be able to get clear.”
“And then what?” Vestara asked.
“And then we make sure that she doesn’t make an avatar out of the one who falls behind,” Ben said. “We’ve used the Force here before, so we know that the fountain’s corruption doesn’t extend for more than a few meters. Once we’re both clear, we can fight with the Force again.”
“So one of us is almost sure to die?” Vestara asked. “And the other one is going to have to do the killing?”
“Probably,” Ben said, “but it has to be better than the alternative.”
Vestara turned toward the Font. “That’s one way to look at it, I guess.”
Ben frowned, unsure of what Vestara was suggesting. “If you have another way, I’m all ears.”
“Maybe dying isn’t the best thing.” Vestara turned back to Ben and touched her hand to his chest. “Maybe there’s a reason we’re here … a reason that we were brought together in the first place.”
Ben’s frown grew deeper. “Like what?”
Vestara stepped back, as though his stern tone had pushed her away. “We need to follow the will of the Force, Ben.”
“And you know what that will is?”
Vestara nodded, turned toward the Font of Power. “I think I do, Ben.”
“I don’t like where this is headed,” Ben said, following her gaze. “Ves, you can’t be serious.”
Vestara continued to gaze into the Font’s dark waters. “But I am, Ben. If we both drank, together we would be stronger than Abeloth-probably strong enough to destroy her.” She reached out and took Ben’s hand. “And wouldn’t that be the best thing for the galaxy?”
Ben dropped her hand immediately. "No."
[OOC: Taken and modified from Troy Denning's Apocalypse!]