Hoth: Blood and Ice

[Luth Khalan]

The Gravestone creaked and groaned around them as she ship tore off into space from Iokath, damaged but holding together. Her, Jo’ren, Senya, a couple more survived. She closed her left eye, a couple of tears squeezing out for the ones who didn’t make it. She couldn’t feel the right eye, or that side of her face, really. The edges of… something were searingly painful, but most of it was numb. She could feel the air entering her mouth at odd angles when she inhaled, even though it was closed.

It was hard to tell if it was fully closed. Everything was too hazy. Fortunate the seat had a harness, or she wasn’t sure she’d be upright.

Her left eye stared out of the viewport, her stare fixed. They hadn’t jumped to lightspeed yet. Time seemed to stretch infinitely forward and backward as she took in the stars. They were a sparkling display, not just a speckled, boring view out of a window like she’d seen before. They were thick in some places, where the galaxy’s arm crossed her vision, and it seemed for a moment like she could feel the trillions of people out there.

There was fear out there, but there were also roots of love, and hope. There was light out there, so much that it just became background noise like how the stars normally felt, but it felt like she could see it now. Maybe more of it could shine now.

One must take some time to enjoy the simpler pleasures in life…

With a small smile on the left side of her place, she finally slumped forward into unconsciousness, her hair falling forward to cover the all but missing right half of her face. She heard a voice making noises to her right somewhere, but it faded out into a haze, and then darkness.

--

Sound tended to carry in the Temple. She heard the booted footsteps in the hall outside of the meditation chamber before she saw who was coming. She felt his presence even before that. The long robes she wore made a soft swishing noise against the ground as Luth Khalan rose to her feet and turned toward the doorway. She couldn’t help but smile when she saw her visitor, despite knowing what was likely coming, what had been building since they left the Empire.

They had both changed so much in only seven years. Silver now shot through her deep red hair in bits and pieces, while a massive scar made its way down nearly half of her face on the right side, the eye there sightless and milky white, a relic of the Terror Star mission. The main difference was in how her presence felt – she had found peace, finally.

The young man before her grown tall, as tall as his father and grandfather. His face bore a mix of her features and the sharper, squarer ones of his father when he was younger. Medium-length, deep red hair was held in a short ponytail at the back of his head. He had left aside his robes, dressed in something more befitting a smuggler, though his lightsaber was clipped on his belt. That, too, was an inheritance. He was more conflicted, two sides of himself tearing each other apart. It felt all too familiar to Luth.

“Mom…” He began, softly, his voice always seemingly too solemn and serious for his years. He shifted slightly, silent, as if not sure how to continue.

She didn’t force it, simply shaking her head with a soft smile. “You have to go, don’t you?”

He inhaled slowly through his nose and let out a long breath, a habit he had picked up from her at a young age. He nodded. “I have to know about him. Our father. I can’t stand Draahg holding onto what he meant for us.” He grit his teeth, one hand balling up into a fist.

“Van…” she replied softly, stepping forward and reaching a hand out. He shook his head and stepped back, out of her range, and she dropped it. “… Your anger. It’s been rising lately.”

All he could do was look away. The seething didn’t leave, simply having shame over it added. She sighed. That wasn’t the intent. There was still so much to learn to be able to help him properly right now… Not that the masters had been able to break through much either. She knew all too well how emotions like this could become rooted and feel intractable. She had lived it.

This might be a lesson he would have to learn from hard experience.

She considered for a moment, then nodded to herself before pulling out a datapad. “Here… Go to Ziost first. Take this to Raela Ausar. She will tell you what your next steps are. Remind her that she owes me one if you have to.”

He accepted the data pad, silent for a moment. “… That’s it? You’re not going to try to stop me?”

He suddenly found himself being pulled down into an embrace, surprised to find himself not fighting the contact this time. “Van… I brought you with me here so you could have a choice. Not to take those choices from you.” She pulled back, deep blue eyes meeting golden brown. “If this is what you feel you need to do, then do it. Just be careful. I will always be here for you. Always. So will your namesake, in the Force. If you decide to come back, we’ll figure it out.”

He frowned, working his jaw a little bit. The hope made it worse. “I can’t.” He wasn’t fully sure what he couldn’t do. Come back? Ask for help? Did it matter?

She sighed. “At least… for my sake, if nothing else, don’t get arrogant. Don’t confront him until you’re ready. He killed Sylvain. The man’s a nightmare in combat.”

He looked at the datapad she had handed him for a moment before nodding and putting it away. The silence stretched out for a long moment as neither of them seem to know quite what to say. Goodbyes were never easy, certainly not in their family.

Finally, she took his hands and squeezed. “I trust you, Van. I have hope. The galaxy is full of it if you just stretch out and look for it. Don’t lose that, either.” With a motherly kiss pressed to his forehead, she smiled sadly and stepped back a step.

“Yeah…” He finally said. “I… I’ll try.” He took a deep breath and turned, walking out of the meditation chamber only to find the face he wanted to see the least in the moment leaning against the wall just to the side of the doorway, dressed in his robes, as always. Short, dark hair, bright eyes that matched his own, and a relaxed grin.

“Leaving so soon? Won’t you miss me?” Aral asked, pushing off the wall.

“With every shot so far.” Van sighed and glared at him. “I don’t want to hear whatever you think you know, Aral.”

“Hear what? You can’t be that surprised,” he replied with a casual shrug.

The redhead stopped, frowning. A guilty expressed crossed his face before vanishing wherever it came. Or perhaps it was a sad sort of hope. “You could come with me. This is about you, too.”

Aral shook his head. “I can’t follow where you’re going. You shouldn’t, either. Let it go, Van. Let him fade into history.”

A sharp shake of his head and he began to walk away. “You don’t understand. Maybe you can’t.”

Aral didn’t stop him, watching his brother practically stalk out of the Temple. A weight lay on his heart, in the shape of his own sight. It was years ago that he first saw the vision. Back during the war against Zakuul, he had seen it, when he was only eight and his brother had been ten. He had looked out the window of their apartment and had been struck with a vision upon catching a glimpse of Prince Thexan’s face. His hearing and vision had faded out and he saw it: Two men, fighting a duel, lightning coming down in the background to obscure their features. One wore a mask, but a strike from the other broke it, revealing a hateful glare, pale skin, and gaunt features. Yellow eyes. Something in him had recognized them as being brighter than they should be.

Back then, he had thought it was those Zakuul people. Now he realized that neither of them had red hair.

Aral let out a soft sigh and shook his head, shaking off what he had seen. The future was always in motion. All he could do was wait and hope.