Star Wars, Duel of the Fates: Chapter Six- The Reckoning

 **for previous chapters, please refer to the Table of Contents***

               Something was very wrong. Kylo Ren slammed his fist into the side of ship in furious irritation. He was surrounded by the shredded, used-up bits and pieces of just about every type of medical supply he'd packed in his ship. Nothing had worked. The wounds in his face and side remained open, raw, and weeping.

               Even though he quickly remembered the way back out of the valley, everything from his injuries, to the steepness of the slope, to the loose and crumbly nature of the rocks and soil beneath his feet had made the return up to his ship feel immeasurably longer than his descent.

               The gashes themselves left by the shadow attacks burned as if he'd been lit on fire, and it had sure felt like he'd been torn through when they hit him, but in spite of all that, cuts did not appear to be terribly deep. The bleeding was a constant trickle, but blood loss never overwhelming enough that he wasn't able to keep moving.

               This apparent shallowness, however, made it all the stranger that they simply were not healing; despite the time it had taken him to return to the ship, in no part of any of the cuts had any clotting or scabbing began. The sense of bloody rawness, the ever-steady dripping of his life force, stayed at the same level the entire time, as if the wounds contained some strange poison that held back the ability of his body to mend itself.

               After finally making it back up to his ship, he'd immediately pulled out every med pack he'd had on board and starting applying anything, everything, to the wounds. Bandages or gauze of every sort blackened and dried up, and any liquids he tried to apply to disinfect the wounds and clean them of the red dust caked into them turned to hissing steam. This was no passive poison; whatever had attacked Ren was still shadowing him, malevolently refusing to let him heal. Sheer determination and strength of will had kept him going, but he knew that his body would give out eventually if he didn't get some answers.

               And that meant he needed Palpatine to explain to him what sort of sadistic trap he'd led Ren into. Treachery is the way of the Sith.

               Steadying himself once more, the stone in his left hand and his lightsaber in his right, he once more stepped out towards the ruined temple, walking back under the yawning scars that made up the remainder of its doorframe and roof.

               The holocron still sat, silent and dark, in the center of the room, but once Ren drew closer the lines of starlight appeared again. In moments, the visage of Palpatine, Lord Sidious, was once more before him.

               I see you retreived the necessary material, Kylo Ren, the voice intoned. Well done.

               Ren was about to respond when a fresh throb of pain shot through his face and side. Grimacing, he bit back against it until it began to fade before speaking.

               "And what about these?" he asked, gesturing at the gash on his face. "What was that that attacked me? What sort of power leaves injuries like this, and how can I heal myself?"

               A cruel, almost sarcastic, smile stretched across Sidious' face.  My dear boy, anyone who cannot overcome mere scratches is someone who can never ascend to the Sith mantle.

               "Enough!" Ren could hold back his fury no more. "I came to you asking for help, asking for your blessing and your teachings so as to ensure the Jedi remain dead, and all you do is play your stupid, inane mind games with me, and lure me into a death trap, only for the purpose of finding some blasted crystal!"

               With this, he raised the fist clutching the blasted stone and contemptuously hurled it towards the hodded figure, who remained silent and unmoving.

               "Here. I got your damned crystal, now tell me. How. To. Heal. This."

               With the end of his rampage, a silence even deader than before descended within the chamber. The figure waited a moment longer before it spoke again.

               The true power of the Sith resides in the single-minded will to bend everything in the universe- the Force, the stars, air, water, even individual atoms- to your own ends. If you desire it strongly enough, the hardest of rock must yield to your power. That you fail to see this disappoints me greatly, boy. For a moment, I really did believe you had the spirit of your grandfather within you. I now see I was wrong. Clearly, you will never be another Vader.

               At the moment he spoke that final word, an unmistakable snap-hiss rang out behind Kylo Ren. He turned, and beheld the midnight-black figure of Darth Vader, the hum of the lightsaber blending with the drawn-out, mechanical rumble of his breathing.

               Another Force vision, Ren thought immediately, but like his father earlier, this seemed all too clear and solid to be just a vision. This worrying thought was confirmed when he felt power whirl around the figure and it charged straight at him, a hammer in the Force seeking to pound him into nothingness.

               Giving over to fighting instinct, his own saber lept into his hand, ignited, and with every bit of fading strength he had left he met the charge head-on, the power of their first impact causing the temple remains around them to shake and moan from the tremors that rippled out in the Force from where their blades dug into each other.

               "Are you another ghost from my own head, then?" He spat at the figure through teeth gritted in concentration and pain.

               The robotic voice of his grandfather, that gutteral noise he'd only heard about from others who remembered it with dread, filled the cavernous hall.

               I...am your reckoning. If you cannot embrace the darkness, you will be condemned to it by others. If you cannot fulfill my legacy, then I will cast you down in judgment.

               Ren gritted his teeth. Not here. No way.

               "Try it then, old man," he spat through gritted teeth.

               With a flash they unlocked blades, each swinging an arc over their heads each other at the same moment. Their blades locked once, disenganged once more, and the next minutes were filled with blows and counter blows as each figure poured their rage into each strike.

               Even with his newfound fury feeding him, Ren could still feel the burning in his injuries; even now, in the heat of battle with the figure that had been everything he'd sought to achieve, he could feel his body slowly giving way. One step back from an incoming blow became another as he found himself injecting less and less power into each exchange. Sweat began to pour down his face, mingling with the grime in his wounds and further inflaming the pain that was slowly consuming his consciousness.

               The next blow from Vader he saw coming almost too late to respond to. Ducking beneath the hissing wave of fire, he summoned a burst of energy enough to fling himself backwards to gain enough distance to breath, just for a moment.

               For a second, no one moved, and no one spoke. The slow burn of the lightsabers was the only sound. The figure of Palpatine was motionless and silent.

               Then, the voice of Vader returned; If that is all you are capable of, then you truly are a failure. You can never carry my mantle.

               Ren began to open his mouth to respond, when another voice, from earlier, once again appeared behind him.  "I told you to leave all this be, kid."

               He turned to see the image of his father, once more, standing behind him. For another moment, silence descended. Even the still-activated lightsabers seemed muted. Ren stood between the three figures, the three people whose legacies and histories and desires had been suffocating him since before he had even been conceived.

               Then, something like a whisper brushed at the back of his mind. Turning in the direction he sensed it from, he spotted the red crystal he'd thrown on the floor earlier, still lying where it had fallen. Now, looking closely at it, the dull metallic glow seemed to brighten from within, as if it were carrying its own light. And as he regarded it in the Force, suddenly the worries and rages that had been filling his head this whole time seem to crystallize along the atomic structure of the shard, like it was the long-lost missing piece of a puzzle he'd been struggling his whole life to complete.

               Steadying his breathing, pushing back once more against the pain that still enflamed his left side, he looked back towards his father, one last time.

               "I already told you. I'm not like you or Leia. And I never will be."

               He then turned back towards the figure of Vader, still standing with its lightsaber in a guarded position.

               "And you. You never overcame your weakness. In the end, you let love bring you down. I won't make the same mistake."

               And then, taken over by an instinct he only dimply understood, he reached, deep into the Dark Side of the Force, and held his hand out towards the shard on the ground. With a screaming noise, it light up like a supernove and disintegrated into a stream of molten, red liquid that rushed in an arc through the air, striking into the gashes in Ren's side and face, burning away the dust, the blood, the poison that threatened to set in. In a searing moment, the open, bleeding, red injuries turned into black scars running up and down his body. Finally, Ren felt his body knit together, whole and in command of his full power once more. Refocusing within himself, the pain that had dogged him slowly fading to a dull, distant ache, he turned back towards Vader. The image of his father had vanished entirely.

               "Now," he said, his voice filled with the confidence of purpose he'd been seeking for so long, "you were saying something about being my reckoning."

               Without waiting for a response, he raised his saber, drew the Force about him like a black shield, and hurled himself towards Vader. With renewed vigor he struck into the mechanical shadow. This time, it was his pace that defined the blows, with Vader slowly finding himself forced back a step or two with each exchange.

               A counterblow came from Vader's upper left side, driving towards Ren's right shoulder. Seeing the sequence coming as in slow motion, he leaned into the strike to stop it. Bringing his blade up from beneath, he caught the top of Vader's hilt, right beneath the blade, with one of the guard parts of his own saber. In an instant, the blade vanished, as if it had never existed. The figure of Vader before him suddenly seemed smaller, dimished, weak, both physically and within the Force.

               Triumphantly, Ren grinned, "I did want your mantle for myself. Yes.....for so long, I wanted that."  He paused for a moment, reflecting on everything that had led him to this moment.  "But not anymore. Who cares about your mantle. You're dead. I will create my own legacy."

               With that, he raised his saber to strike a final blow, but in an instant, the figure of Vader hd vanished, leaving Ren staring at empty space.

               Behind him, at long last, the figure stirred.

               Excellent, boy. Most excellent.

               Ren turned around to face the holocron again, seeing a greedy smile beginning to form on Sidious' face.

               This was your ultimate test. I admit I doubted, but you have indeed shown your mettle. You will not be stopped. You will bend the elements themselves to your desires. You will strike anyone down; even your own blood.

               The yellow eyes seemed to glow with increasing fervor, making the image seem nearly alive.

               Yes, Kylo Ren. I believe you have the makings of a Sith Lord within you after all. Take one hour in your ship to rest your body and recover from your trials. After that, we shall begin.