By Shaitan`

Sitting on a corner of the mangled Town Square a young woman in ripped pink skirts looked up into the sky through red rimmed eyes. It had always been so beautiful to her the way the soft blue tones rolled against each other. At times, it almost reminded her of a dance. Today she didn’t know what to make of it, except that it definitely wasn’t dancing. Fighting, maybe. Nothing made sense like it used to; nothing looked the same to her anymore. The past two weeks changed her in ways she couldn’t begin to understand. First it was the test; the test that every girl went through when they were of age. For eight days she had wandered alone in the mountains north of the village. No weapons and no food, she had been lucky when she first saw the cavern on her second day in the mountains. Shelter from the rains that had come up all of the sudden. Her father had asked her to wait, but she was stubborn like her mother and went anyway.

The test was a time for contemplation, a time for her to learn how to live. Men, they said, were born with it in them; their test was different. They took beatings for one full day and one full night then were locked down in a hole for their time of contemplation. If they died from the beatings they took, they weren’t men; if they lived, they were men and had a place among the hunters for the next year. That was their time to learn. She always thought they were silly, that they needed a whole year to learn when the women were thrown out into the mountains alone.

Men are just weak, she thought, silly and weak, but they have their uses. For the first time that morning half of a smile bent her lips. She looked down at the three claw marks on her forearm. A gift from the test. The half smile disappeared with the flash of memory.

Slowly, she rose, careful not to tear her skirts anymore than she already had. Closing her eyes briefly, she shut out all the ruin and disarray that had once been her village. She made up her mind last night that she would dig through what was left of her home to see if there was anything she could use. The village had been like this when she returned from the test. Everything had been destroyed - her entire world. Now it was nothing but rubble. Vinnawl the old woman who used to heal her cuts and help with the birthing of children had still been alive when Kei-non found her. Vinnawl told her that a ship destroyed the village, and told her where the stocks of food were hidden. The old lady died two nights ago, leaving Kei-non alone to fend for herself. At least she didn’t have to worry about food and there was stream close by for water.

She sighed as she ducked under what used to be a doorframe and looked around. Almost everything was burned to ash or twisted from the heat that had been there only a few days before. The wall separating her room from the cooking area was bent almost in half, doubled down on itself. Nothing was left of her bed but the metal framing against the far wall. Making her way through the mess she saw her clothing chest in the corner of her room. It was bowed on top and had a burn mark down the right side of it but it looked like it was still whole. She climbed over the wall and kicked at what used to be a chair before kneeling at the chest. Its thick handle was bent but it still opened for her. Digging around inside three of her dresses were just as she left them, the other two had burns in the fabric down the back and chest but they could be mended if she found a needle and some thread.

At the bottom of the chest was the little music box her father gave her a few years ago. She opened it and gently wiped away the dust on its lens. The three little discs under it weren’t harmed either, after sliding one into the bottom of the music box she set it on the edge of the chest. The sounds were so sweet and soft she closed her eyes and relaxed back against a rippled wall.

That afternoon she woke and finished going through what was left of her house. Next to her room was where her parents slept, she had to wriggle her body through a space between the door and wall. The mirror her mother loved so much was broken into a thousand little pieces; the small counter it sat on was bent following the curve of the wall. In the corner the metal bed frame was still bolted into the wall. It was twisted more than hers had been. Lightly she ran a finger over the surface of the counter, where her mother used to sit and make herself prettier for festivals. A long sigh escaped her lips, and she bit back the tears that lined her eyes. Trying to blink them away she yanked at the small knob on the side of the warped counter. Surprise registered on her for a moment when the knob pulled out a small drawer. Inside was her mother’s ring, the one that was worn at festivals or special village meets. Gently she picked it up and slid it over her middle finger, she smiled, it was a little loose but it seemed to fit okay.

Lifting her hand she stared at it for a long while. Golden with a dull beauty, it seemed to shine despite the lack of light in the room. The thin band reaching around her finger holding a symbol of some kind, round and proud. Almost a full circle the design was smooth around the edge with the wings, neck, and head of some kind of bird. She smoothed her other hand over it and looked at it again, not sure if she had ever seen anything quite so beautiful before. She began to wonder why her mother never let her see it and why the other people in town would treat her mother differently when she did wear it.

Turning to what was left of the bed she kicked at the chair that used to sit in front of the vanity; it was worthless now and blocked her from making her way across the room. She kicked it again suddenly angry at the chair. In a flash of rage, she picked it up and threw it against a wall. With the chair went something else, something small and square. A paper book; she almost jumped when she saw the pages start to open as it went flying. A paper book, she said to herself, disbelieving what she was looking down at. She could read and had read other books always on lens with a disc. Someone told her once that books used to be made of a wood product, a thing called paper. Vinnawl showed her one with her lens. The old woman had discs that were full of all kinds of things no one ever saw anymore.

She picked up the book, it felt heavy and light at the same time. It had a smooth black cover with a broken band that was once meant to keep it closed. Battered now, it was still smooth, a few pages in the middle were wrinkled back in on themselves. She opened it and felt the thin pages, rough and smooth at the same time; the deep purple ink felt like it was sitting on the paper. It rose up just a little but enough to give the twisting lines the feel of waves. She closed it gently and set it by the gap between wall and door that she would have to go back though on her way out.

Messes of burnt and mangled things were everywhere; she spent another couple of hours digging through everything. If there had been a book in here there had to be other things as well. There was a small box of discs and an odd-looking player. Her father, she knew, loved reading things and listening to the sounds the discs had on them. She could see him sitting in the front room with a pipe, his eyes attached to the lens of his player. The memory almost made her smile as she pushed the box and player through the gap, then gently reached around the side and laid the book down before wiggling and worming her way back out into her room.

The cooking area was far worse than the rest of the small home. Everything was melted, broken, or twisted and the danger of touching something exposed to electricity was high. She didn’t think there would be anything of much use left in the melted cupboards, but she wedged a piece of a chair into a bend in one of the doors and pried it open. Most everything was cracked or broken, but two bowls were still usable. She tossed most of the things to the ground beside her and looked into the back. There wasn’t much light but she could see that everything was busted and useless. After setting the book, two players, and all the little discs in one of the bowls she made her way back out and went to what used to be her father’s work shed.

All the men in the village wed or single had work sheds for mending and building. The village had been a colony until forty years ago when the people had learned enough about the place to survive on their own. It had only taken about ten years for them to do so and they were already beginning to grow, even if the growth was only seven new families. Raw material was something no one had enough of, so when something became useless or couldn’t be repaired it was recycled into something that was useful, or used to repair other things. Ships from off world loaded the small homes and sheds along with a few tons of material whenever a new family was created or some kind disaster hit.

Kei-non set her bowl down and walked around the shed. One wall had fallen down in back and tools lay scattered on the ground. All in all the shed wasn’t in too bad of shape. The work benches were still standing against the remaining walls, two on either side of the front wall, and there were some blankets her mother made her father keep under one on the left. Most of the tools were undamaged and the small generator was in an untouched chest. She gathered up the tools that were scattered across the ground and placed them neatly on one of the benches. The rest of the afternoon she spent turning the shed into a makeshift home. A place where she could sleep, eat, and work on things she knew she would have to do soon.

The sun was just beginning to fade against one of the peaks when she started back from the stream with a food container filled with water. There was a soft breeze moving west following the range of mountains, and the trees were starting to show that spring was there with small flowers and budding fruits. Grass was growing greener in thickening clumps starting to spread out from the base of the trees. The sky took on the many shades of light blue and purple that it always did just before the deep purples set in for the night. Her stomach rumbled, reminding her why she went to get the water. She hurried back to the shed and began mixing some of the fluid with a powder that would make her meal. It was all she needed to survive but it tasted horrible. At least it stopped her stomach from rumbling.

After the gruel was down and a place was cleared under a bench she laid out blankets and settled down for the evening. The deep purples had taken over the sky dimming the natural light too much to work. As she lay there she could hear the faint sounds of insects buzzing in the fields; it was a relaxing sound and she was glad to hear it. There had been no sounds other than ones she had made since she came back to find the village destroyed. It was like everything had died or left. She couldn’t blame them, she didn’t want to be either but she didn’t have anywhere else to go and it was her home. She closed her eyes and let her mind drift, tomorrow she planned to try hunting, to get some food that tasted like it should be eaten and not used to fertilize plants.

"Do not give up before you begin." A strong voice seemed to sound in her mind, brushing away some of the clouds. She closed her eyes trying to gather herself and break away from the clouded feeling. Something was heavy in her left hand, pulling it down to the ground. She gripped at it not letting it go resting against the dry grass. It was thick feeling and thin at the same time. She opened her eyes, the man was no longer looking over her no longer anywhere. Her hand was gripping the side of a book.

Kei-non opened her eyes in a wild burst, looking all about the small shed. Sweat coated her body and her eyes burned from crying in her sleep. Tossing back the blanket she saw her left hand gripped tightly on the edge of the book with paper pages, the white color of her knuckles, the thin line of pain in her forearm. Kicking her legs she dropped the book and crawled out from under the workbench. The sky was losing all shades of purple; it was morning again, which answered her question of how long she slept. Without thinking she picked up the book and sat back against the front wall where she could look out across the fields. Memories of the dream came in flashes leaving a mark across her mind, then leaving her all together like a jumbled mess of something she may have done. The book was there, so was the memory or her leaving it on the bench when she went to sleep. How did it get in my hand? The question died as some of the dream came back into her mind. She looked down at the ground and sighed, the ground was still brown with a few rocks littered around. Standing slowly she shook her head, trying to shake the cobwebs out. It was just another bad dream. How many of them cursed her sleep since she returned to what was left of the village, she didn’t know.

There was still some water left from her evening meal, gently she picked up the container and dumped it over her face. The cool feel of the fluid helped to wake her up, helped to break up the webs of the dream still left across her mind. Taking a deep breath she sat back down against the wall, relaxing into the hard metal. After a few moments she opened the book and ran her fingertips across the first page. Notes were scribbled on it, her mother’s handwriting, she was sure. Sloppy and quick but it had to be her writing. She turned the pages until she found the soft flow of purple script riding across the soft creamy pages like waves. Slowly at first she began to read the script, it spoke of something that was everywhere but couldn’t be seen. To her it was like a riddle only not posed in a question. Something that could be felt once you learned how to feel for it, it was in everything and everywhere. She couldn’t understand it. As she read slowly turning the pages a feeling of awe overcame her. The book felt so right, it felt so true, I wonder if there really is something... her thought rolled off. It had to be true, there was a feeling deep inside her making her believe.

Reading faster, she seemed to eat the pages, flipping through the first portion of the book with a hunger. The pages were telling her more of the thing that was everywhere. It could be used by people, people could bend it and use its flow. The book started to tell her about the people that had used it against others in times of war. How they had been able to do things that shouldn’t be possible without bending the flow and using it somehow. As quickly as it began the first part of the book ended adding to her curiosity and wonder. It was so hard for her to understand, like a riddle that went on and on. She flipped back to where it began and read through it once more. This time she made some sense out of the words. Smiling into herself she closed the book. It was mid morning and her stomach told her to eat; she put the book down next to her and started down to the stream with the container.

Wonder plagued every step to the stream and every step back. The nameless thing was everywhere, some kind of strange and wonderful power. She wondered if she could have used it, maybe she could have saved her village. The gruel was tasteless and felt like sludge in her mouth. Much easier to eat than it had been before, she finished the bowl off in a few minutes and sat back down opening her book to the next section. Atop the page there was a mark, a symbol much like the one that now adorned her finger. The likeness was unmistakable, this would tell her something of her mother and why the ring had been important to her. The page began speaking of a mighty god, a nameless god. Instantly her heart took hold and clung to what she was reading. Some of the pain she had felt before drifted away as she read down the page. The words were clear to her, there were no riddles here. A powerful god who was kind enough to aid mortals, a powerful god that she knew in her heart she must serve. Not knowing what to call this god didn’t really bother her, although she did wonder. It wasn’t until the last line of script on that page did she know who this god was. Tears began to blur her vision and her breathing came tight in short breaths. A deep feeling of love came over her washing away her pain in the instant she gave her heart over to the god. The god was called Krath.

Everything she had been through seemed to float away, all the horror of her village destroyed, her friends and family burned and dead. It was all gone, taken away and replaced with so much joy. Sobbing to her self she clutched the book to her chest. Tears rolled freely down her cheeks for long moments. Finally she wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and rubbed her nose. A light shown in her eyes and a thin smile molded across her lips. The first time in weeks, she felt strong and was happy. A thin finger marked her page a twist of it and the book opened for her. She couldn’t help smoothing her hand along its creamy surface before reading again.

That evening she prayed, pouring her heart out to mighty Krath. Thanking him for simply being, begging him to help her to understand more of what she had read that day. It gave her strength just being able to believe.

 "The beacon has been dead for three weeks and still not come back online. Reports from several satellite bases in that sector have reported pirated ships moving through that sector only days before the beacon went dead. They have never let the beacon go down for this long before, never longer than two days without contacting." The commanding officer listened to his orders in detail and the briefing of the situation. He was to send someone to investigate the colony and report the problem as soon as it was known. That normally wouldn’t have been a problem for him however, on this occasion he was transporting several members of the Krath order to a temple near the Minos cluster. They usually weren’t the kind of Jedi you asked to do these things. It was no joke they disliked the newer forms of technology and kept to themselves unless needed. He didn’t know how to go about sending one of them down to investigate the colony. It wasn’t a problem that would wait to be solved, in a few hours they would be landing near the colony site.

Turning on his heel he made his way down two corridors to the room where he knew they would gather. For some reason they made his skin crawl; it wasn’t right what they knew or how they knew it. Sharing only enough information to answer a question and never really answering it. Priests with a control over themselves and how they used the force that was hard to mach outside of the order. Everyone heard the stories of battles that had been waged against the order; he knew them too well. The others had lost every ship, every pilot, everyone and everything they sent against the Krath, while the order took no losses to mention. Those thoughts turned him cold. Before he walked through the door, he shivered in on himself and shook the feeling off. There was no way he would allow himself to show any signs of nervousness. The heavy footfall of his boot caused the door to slide open and he stepped inside. Turning his head slightly to either side he took them in. Some held books, others datapads, but they were all Krath. Thirteen he counted as he made his way to the center of the room. All eyes lifted and turned on him. Unconsciously his right hand gripped the back of a chair and he began…

Kei-non wiped a hand across her forehead and smiled down at the ground from her perch up in a tree. A giggle passed out of her smiling flips as she dangled her legs. She could feel the force between things, in things. Still giggling she jumped down out of the tree landing easily on her feet. Although her understanding of the force wasn’t near enough for her to make any use out of it, it thrilled her to be able to feel it flowing everywhere. She ran across a field back toward the small shed she had been using for a home. She had ripped the long skirts to about mid thigh almost two weeks ago, so she could run and hunt. Her body had seen changes already, muscle firming and fats being used. With all she had been through in the past month and a half her mind and soul felt good. On her third try she managed to kill something to eat and didn’t have to rely on that gruel for food anymore. The knowledge in that book seemed to mend and heal the pain she held onto before. She had given her heart to the god Krath, and was filled with so much. Not understanding half of what was happening to her, she didn’t care, she wanted to learn to live. There was a fire building in her, feeding off the anger she felt to whoever it was that destroyed her village, but there was a joy in her as well. The joy of knowing new things and understanding some of what was actually around her. She was building a new world for herself, reading from the book, trying to use what she learned. She didn’t feel so afraid of everything anymore.

The blues were fading to shades of purple as evening began to set in, the sky was darkening for the night. The buzz of insects had picked up over the past few weeks and the grasses were growing tall. Spring was moving into full force over the land taking on a look of beauty despite the twisted forms from the village. She curled up into a sitting ball while she cooked some meat and boiled some vegetables from the fields in a pot made by her own hands. The book was open in before as it had been every morning and evening since the first time she began to read from it. The words filled her mind, teaching her things, helping her to gain an understanding of what the force was, and always the guiding hand of Krath. After reading through section nine of the book again, she ate. Her stomach feeling full and her muscles tired, sore, and worn, she prayed to the God. Pouring all she had out to him, thanking him for his aid in helping her to understand. She prayed to him feeling in the force, feeling the subtle shifts of the flow around her. Th muscles lining her back and legs felt relaxed when she had finally finished, the soreness replaced with a dull hum to remind her that it had been there at all. The makeshift bedding under the workbench looked welcoming her to, the prayer eased her physical pains, and gave her hope to a future she knew would come soon. In her heart she knew there would be a change happening soon.

The night sky was odd looking to his eyes snatching glances up at it from time to time. The footfalls of his soft black books made no sound as he ran down a rise toward grass covered hills below. Purples churning into each other were both strange and beautiful to his eyes, rolling and playing against one another. He slowed to a jog as the tall grasses began to whip at his tough leggings, making a whisking sound that seemed to carry in the breeze of the night air then drown out suddenly against the other sounds. Grasses shifting around by the gentle wind and the buzz of insects. Images of maps formed in his mind, the grasses marking the hills that led in down to the valley where the colony was located. The mountains were shadows along the horizon, monstrous things, their peaks seemed to pierce the colors of the sky at points. He continued on his way running along side the range slowly turning south. He made his way up to the ridge of a hill and paused, he could see the deep shadow buried down forming the ridges of a bowl. Another mile and he would be across the stream yards from where the colony should be. That thought in his mind he set a faster pace knowing the distance between him and the valley was rapidly closing.

 End part one