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She still had unfinished business in Mandalore, but she felt the tendrils of the Force pull her towards Thabeska. And that was when she parted ways with Rex. It was a bittersweet moment, but it had to be done. She took the name of Ashla. A cruel mockery of what was, but a crude comfort of who she was. She lived as a mechanic, the familiar scent of grease and groans of scrap materials a consolation of bygone days. Once she settled into her new life, her thoughts wandered as she hammered sheets of metal back into shape, screwed bolts back into place. Old anger renewed - she didn't hate the Jedi Council, but she was angry that their entanglement with politics left them unable to protect her and thousands of younglings. She was mad at Anakin for leaving her to this cruel new world. Most of all, she was hurt. Her grief and anger cloaked her dim light. Until she felt a wall of Darkness, something that pushed against the tattered dark mist surrounding her. She fled to Raada. Flares of defiance, flares of Light leaked from her vaporous shield. A spark of her old life, her old spirit. A ghost of living again. Scraps of metal gathered, from Raada, Thabeska, and the places in between. She was not sure what to make of it. It was as if her spirit was calling for something. Until she heard it, felt it. A song. Merry and clear behind a dirge of rage and anguish. It came to her. She killed the inquisitor - the Force whispered that it was not yet time. (For what, she didn't know).
She felt love again. Not soul-binding love, just the love of people, of life, of freedom. It bolstered her wearied soul. Her old voice of determination called out. She became the voice of freedom. She helped this rebellion of farmers. It came at a cost that they paid willingly. The cost of security and home. (The Empire was a liar anyways, a backstabber.) She met with Senator Organa after the events on Raada. Smiles of hope ghosting across her face, rooted into his. She told him not yet. She met their heiress, a bubbly two-year-old princess. A Force presence that echoed figures from the past. Ahsoka opened her mental mists just enough to whisper into the little mind, that little light in the Force to hide and wait.
The third anniversary of victorious emergence of the Galactic Empire. A day of mourning. She slipped away from the celebrations, the falsity of it all sickened her. To the fields, the wilderness, away from the noise of the people. In the middle of nowhere in particular, she meditated. A dangerous thing in these dangerous times, yet she had no other choice. There was little light and a sea darkness, but there was a sheen of shades of grey between the two.
“There is a wildness in you, young one,” an older version of herself once said. “A seed of darkness planted by your master.”
This seed had sprouted. Perhaps a blessing in disguise, for it grew into a ragged mist that barely covered her light (as far she could tell). Perhaps a pronounced curse, for it danced on the edges of her light, stealing tendrils to feed itself. Regardless, she had to learn to control this darkness in her before it became something more. Before it truly stole away all who she was. Unless she was always supposed to fall into the Dark. The wondering of who she was and should be wore against her mental stability.
"I see the padawan needs one. last. lesson," a phantom voice growled lowly. She did not expect an answer so soon, yet it made sense. That voice danced in her nightmares. If only she had heeded his words, the whole galaxy would not have paid the price.
Her meditation ended abruptly as she felt the slimy darkness from the Core approach. Darkness that shimmered like oil on water. Darkness that wasn't right. She left again to wander the galaxy.
After nearly a year of (mostly) patient tracking, she finally located him. She landed on Dathomir and instantly felt nothing but the darkness around her. Darkness that was steeped in pain, anger, hate, dangerous emotions, and ancient magic. It was completely different from the growing darkness in the galaxy - this Darkness felt more primal, more how it maybe was meant to be.
She looked around her. It was a cold, cloudy night. The light of moons shone on her. They were cold, lifeless. There was no warmth – they were just there. (Just as the Dark used to be merely an existence compared to the thriving Light).
To connect with the Light, one had to take the colors, the sounds and combine them, until the colors flashed white and the sounds roared into one intensity. And in that moment, she could see every color, hear every sound of all existence as the beautiful tapestry and nuanced symphony it created. Previously, she only grasped the edges of the Dark, controlling it with her sorrow. But now, she was not so sure. Like the Light, colors and sounds converged. Unlike the Light, it swallowed colors, sounds and stripped them of everything until there was nothing but ghosts and echoes.
She spotted him as soon as she disembarked from her ship. A ghost once, now a reality. He stood half in the shadows of a great copse of dead trees, half in the light. Scarcely changed. The wormhole-black ink contrasted starkly against the bright red of his skin. His eyes burned as two, dangerous yellow suns. He chuckled darkly, for this...situation was a familiar one.
She spent months with him, cashing in on his life debt to train her. Live or die, he growled as his first lesson. She had no answer, but her current actions since her time in that haunted village and afterwards indicated her desire to live. But it was not the answer he wanted. It was mostly philosophical-based training. It was nothing like the Jedi training (and apparently nothing like his training). He told her of things, whispers of ideas, then cast her to discover their meaning in the dark, green mists that covered Dathomir’s wilderness. His voice reverberating that if she learns the lesson, she might live. Sometimes, he ignited his lightsabers and attacked. He pushed her borders. Not just physically, but emotionally and mentally. It felt eerily like Anakin’s training sessions.
But there was tinge of something else that was distinctly Maul. Honesty and truth. Real, substantial. Of all the people she had met, he was nothing but honest and truthful with her. Little by little, she learned to embrace the wildness in the Dark. To accept the emotions that she usually forced into the blinding Light. Abandonment from those she called family. Tangible sorrow for the ones, the life she lost. Grief and the following complexities when she finally learned her master's fate. And the conflict of dark shades, red streaks that characterized her current...instructor. (It felt wrong to call Maul anything else).
Another day, another battle of will with their sabers. A more developed, nuanced emulation of their first battle. It ended in a deadlock. And Maul looked at her with...disappointment and rage. Afterwards, he led her into a cave system. The final lesson, live or die, he said, voice demanding, yet toneless. She entered and felt nothing but the Darkness. Pure Darkness that fed on the Darkness of the entire galaxy, maybe the entire universe. she felt everything, joy and sorrow, love and hate, converge and disappear. She ignited the lightsabers she carried. It still felt like the inquisitor’s, even though she gave the crystals new casing. The dim red light did little to help her, but it was just enough to guide her to a small chamber in the twisting passages.
She sat down and powered off the sabers. She used the darkness now, bent it to her will as one might force steam through pipes, and disassembled the casing until the crystals were exposed. They glowed red, still screamed from pain, anger, hate. The marks of their former owner. Yet she was not afraid. She took them into her hands.
Memories assaulted her mind. Memories of Mortis and everything since then. Vividly, like it was only a moment ago. The cold croon of the Son’s voice, the cold crackle of power. Her actions, driven by untold power. Her death, a touch of coldness and then nothing. Strangely merciful despite the circumstances. She remembered the emotions she bore then, magnified. Her fears, her resentment. Now, she felt her sorrow, her despair, her…hate. Cold, red flames ignited the darkness that shrouded her mind, feebly protected her light. She should be worried that it would consume her inner light. She should be afraid. She felt nothing but cold acceptance, a cold absorption. She tasted the darkness. Heavy, salty, metallic. Like blood mixed with sweat and tears.
She thought that the Darkness was a part of her. She thought that she could live without the Light, thrive in the Darkness. As she trained, she felt the Darkness strengthen and grow. It was all…a lie. She understood now, glimpsed at the being she was still becoming. The Light, a spectre inside her, grew through her lessons. Her colors. Coppery orange skin, blue streaks, blue-green eyes, converging into white, leaving a glow. Like clouds of stardust. Green interwoven with ivory and gold. And the Darkness around her, a cloak, a shield. Absorbing the blows that would dim her own colors, yet releasing the colors, the sounds, the energy to feed her Light.
A scream, a screech, a bird’s call. Blinding light burst from the confines of the crystal. She couldn’t look away. The white light mesmerized her with hidden colors weaving together. Colors that took shape. From the white, green burst forth in the form of a convor. Morai. The name erupted from her lips more naturally than other names. From the darkness, light. Just like her. She arose. She died once and rose to live again. Despite the pain and sorrow that filled this world and the galaxy beyond, she laughed. In the face of death, she chose to live.
(Far away on another planet in the Outer Rim, a mural in a long-forgotten temple began to change. The image of ancient being, grey beard flowing from a wizened face, became a little more translucent. The visage of a female figure started taking on shades of copper and cerulean blue, shades deepening as time continued. And the final figure took on a mask and robes of deep black - maybe to be cast off to reveal a new appearance.)
She emerged from the cave and approached Maul. Maul, powerful as he was, would be consumed by her. Would lose who he was if she stayed. She had come to appreciate him, but they could be nothing more than friends. He was only a flickering shadow compared to...(she still could not say the name of who he was and now is). And Maul knew it as well as she did (but he would die by her side if she so wished it).
She should have left soon after, but she could not help but linger. He did not have any Force-related lessons to teach her, but he was still a well of knowledge and experience. She once commanded battalions, planned battles and missions, and performed background security work. It was nothing compared to the brutal efficiency required to keep a large-scale organization undetectable yet fully operational. He was incredibly perceptive – he did see Darth Sidious’ plans even though he was not privy to them. He also possessed a vision, an end-goal, and an inordinate amount of patience.
She racked her mind for what Maul would use his power as leader of this crime organization for. It already granted him power and wealth. It had to be something he did not have. Something…or someone. And that was when she realized it was time for her to go. Their paths diverged, maybe they’ll touch now and then, but never again intersect and run parallel. Nothing like the kinship of these last few months.
She finally bade him farewell, leaving her with her last blessing, a paltry gift compared to the support and training he gave her. The ship she now piloted echoed him – sleek in design, built for speed and lethality. Yet it could comfortably take in passengers and perform other duties if required. A ship built to operate in the shadows. With a bittersweet half-smile, she inputted the coordinates of her destination into the navi-computer as Morai hooted encouragingly from her shoulder.