Saevio lowered the hood of his cloak from over his head as Daydream disentangled herself from him. She stepped away, watched the sand falling from his cloak, musing silently about the way it never seemed to get into his clothes, despite the force of the sandstorm. Most people would be shaking sand out for hours.

Looking over the lobby of the building in which they'd sought refuge, or at least silence if not refuge, Daydream remarked calmly, "You were going to tell me why you think you are being plotted against."

The charcoal-skinned zabrak was obviously aware that the twi'lek was trying to assert her own control over the conversation, and he took the reins easily. "You were going to tell me whether or not you agreed to such a ridiculous suggestion."

"I've not agreed to it yet, but perhaps you will recall that I put a condition on . . . this . . ." Daydream sighed, gesturing vaguely, ". . . that there not be any problems." She knew he'd understand that she was referring to her involvement with him as a companion, with Kis'met as a teacher, with his organization as ... whatever she was.

The zabrak focused on one word. "Yet?"

"I need her to be strong if I'm to learn from her," Daydream explained.

"It was a mistake putting you two together. I should have seen this coming," the zabrak mused.

"Nonsense, she's a good teacher!"

Saevio fell silent, scarlet eyes moving over Daydream, finally fixing on a point behind her right shoulder. She turned with a rustle of black skirts, spying the cloaked figure of Azrakiel, Saevio's apprentice, who had somehow entered the building unseen and unheard. The twi'lek stepped aside, looking from one to the other.

Nodding at Azrakiel, Saevio intoned, "Apprentice. . . "

Azrakiel performed a bow, and glanced up at the zabrak and the twi'lek, his expression suggesting that he felt he'd interrupted something. His voice held in a low whisper, he stated, "I should have known this place would be occupied, Master. My apologies."

Saevio shook his head, dismissing the apology. "Nonsense."

"I expect Saevio tells you everything, Azrakiel," Daydream smirked, "I have no issue with you being here." She waved a hand with a jingling of metal bangles, as if to indicate she didn't think there was any interruption by him.

"Of course," came Azrakiel's whispered response.

Turning back to face Daydream, Saevio continued, "So, then. . . you have considered this, it would seem."

"I try to consider everything, Saevio."

"Some things recieve more consideration than others, hmm?" he prompted.

"When it comes to learning how to control things, yes, that receives more consideration," Daydream said calmly.

"Control things. . . " Saevio mused. "Funny you should mention that."

Yeah, I bet you'd think it's funny. The twi'lek thought back to the conversation she'd had in the cantina earlier that night with an acquaintance, one who'd caught her shoulder and hissed into her ear as she stepped into the smoky darkness of the cantina: 'There is something about you failing . . . he talks about you having no self-control, as if he looks down upon you. . .' She'd passed it off as the ramblings of someone who was either drunk, spiced, or desert-mad, but . . .

"Indeed," she stated rather flatly. "Rumor has it you think I've no control whatsoever."

"Well, I never thought such until now," he said, his tone of voice deceptively mild. "It seems to me you are being controlled by Kis'met."

"Ah... Someone told me you sa - what?!" Daydream blinked, shaking her head. She let an edge creep into her voice. "She is not controlling me."

"Isn't she?" Saevio asked, smirking.

Glaring, Daydream retorted icily, "No! She's not!" She frowned and tucked her fretfully-twitching lekku behind her back, glanced back to where Azrakiel stood lurking quietly.

"Consider the facts, Dream . . ."

"How can you think that?! She's not -- she's couldn't, not when she's so full of rage she can't control herself!"

"Ahhh, so you contradict yourself?" he countered.

"Shut up!"

"I knew you were wiser than that," Saevio looked the tan-skinned twi'lek over. "You honestly think she implanted those thoughts in your mind, those feelings, to help you?" He smirked, letting his posture suggest that he thought otherwise, and she should, too.

"It proved effective." Daydream retorts.

"Indeed . . ." Saevio pondered aloud. "Especially for it's true intention . . . "

"Her true intention? Her true intention was to train me to shield myself from unwanted feelings and thoughts. That's all!" Daydream insisted.

Saevio gently shook his head, chiding. "Don't be naive, Dream."

"I'm not being naive!"

"Her true intention was to split us up -- out of jealousy," Saevio declared.

What?! Mute disbelief met his words.

Saevio paused a moment, then continued, his voice quietly convincing: "And from what you're telling me, it seems to be working on your end."

"Well." Daydream blinked. "Perhaps...", she conceded. "Perhaps."

"Mhmm, 'perhaps' indeed", the zabrak mused. "By your own words, you both consider her a very good teacher, yet you know she is not disciplined enough herself," he reasoned.

"Of course she's a good teacher. She knows what works, and she knows how my mind works," she muttered, her eyes fixed on a painting on the wall opposite her: A rather chaotic landscape done in greens and golds, probably intended to be relaxing or peaceful, but failing altogether.

"Ahhh, and yet another revelation. She knows how your mind works, does she?"

"I should think so, as it's --"

"-- Sounds like a prerequisite to controlling someone, does it not?" Saevio interjected smoothly.

"--been open to h . . . " Daydream trailed off, eyes wide. She stared at Saevio.

Saevio's lips curled into a rather cruel, satisfied smirk as the twi'lek managed to see the picture he was painting.

"Hell," the twi'lek managed after a time.

"Daydream. If you have any objections to training with Azrakiel here, now is the time to address them," Saevio stated, his eyes still fixed on his cloaked and hooded apprentice.

Daydream studied the human, her eyes narrowed in a hard, thoughtful stare. After a few moments, she decided, I imagine this is for the best. Bend, don't break with this change. She exhaled softly, a mild sigh: "So long as Azrakiel is patient, I have no objections."

"He has passed his test of patience. You will find him most thorough, I believe," Saevio answered.

Azrakiel continued, his voice pitched in a low whisper: "Any teacher is patient, this much I have learned, Daydream. I see no problems occuring." The human tilted his head back, letting the skylight catch the contours of his face, making evident his cold smile.

"I will look forward to it, then." She stared at Azrakiel, and offered a polite nod.

"We shall see," he whispered in response. "For now, cut all social ties, Daydream, and do not let blind emotion faze you -- it has to be harnessed. Saevio and myself, no more, no less... Lest you falter and fall."

Daydream's eyebrows arched high above her eyes, naked suprise and skepticism warring with irritation and hostility on her face, and her lekku twitched with restless annoyance. What the -hell-? Social ties? Saevio and him, no more? Is he to be my damned chaperone?! He's going to cripple me, he's going to negate everything I've worked to accomplish in this galaxy!

"You wish to learn." Azrakiel stated flatly, obviously reading the expression on the twi'lek's features. "There is no half way."

Forcing her face into bland neutrality, Daydream said, "I fail to see how cutting my social ties will benefit my learning, but I'm sure you can see a bigger picture."

Azrakiel murmured, "Too many have grown content with their laurels. A wind of change is coming, and we will be riding its wing."

"I need not remind you, Azrakiel, that failure is not an option," the zabrak stated, his words dropping heavy into the air like the strike of a hammer on an anvil. "Especially not in this."

"Of course, Master, as always." The cloaked human tilted his head in a nod of agreement. Saevio's comlink chirped, and the zabrak turned away, striding to the doorway of the building to hold a muted conversation.

Azrakiel moved to the curved table a few steps away, hooking a chair with his ankle, drawing it away and settling on it in a few swift moves. "Daydream, come sit with me a moment," he whispered after a time. She nodded, perching on the chair opposite him, permitting a flash of tanned legs against the black silk of her skirt as she settled into a demure posture. Or perhaps it was coy, instead of demure - she knew he'd realize it was a test. She hoped he'd pass it; she'd be disgusted if he didn't.

"The reason for this is important," he explained quietly, appearing completely oblivious to her ploy. "We have many enemies, and faulted training will cause you to suffer . . ." Azrakiel paused, watching the twi'lek consider his words.

"I am not afraid of suffering," she said quietly, allowing the ghost of a smirk to settle on her lips as she realized he'd not react, and thus 'passed'. One less thing to worry about. "Rather say that I would not cause undue suffering for my associates." Though one less potential tool, too.

"Social niceties will be relearned later. What needs be done now is study of both the physical and mental." He paused again. "How long has it been since you have wielded your blade in true combat?" Azrakiel probed thoughtfully, regarding the twi'lek, as if gauging her strength.

Daydream glanced up at the ceiling with a sigh, obviously not comfortable with discussing combat or her past. "Probably not since I was affiliated with the Nightsisters," she muttered.

Azrakiel's eyes narrowed shrewdly on her. "The Nightsisters are fools, infatuated with their Clan war with their Sisters," he sneered callously, the expression turning smug as he watched her posture stiffen with irritation. "You have a great opportunity here, Daydream. I will teach you my style of combat: Archaic, stylish and deadly."

He knows something about the Clan. I'll have to be careful. . . Archaic? Feh. He can't be that old. Maybe he's more than he looks.

Rising to his feet as Saevio approached, Azrakiel suggested, "I will be taking Daydream to her new place of study, if that is all right, Master." The zabrak nodded his agreement, and Azrakiel moved to leave, not bothering to look over his shoulder to see if the twi'lek was following. "Daydream, come with me. I will show you where you will be studying from now on."

The papers had been left on the table in her room - actual paper crafted from some sort of organic components, not a digital transmission or a holo-projection - stylish and archaic, just like all of Azrakiel's mannerisms. Her eyes narrowed, Daydream considered the spidery script crawling over the paper: A handful of questions on how she viewed the galaxy, and a handful of historical topics she was to research and report on. Simply put, homework.

No wonder the Force users of old took their students young, she thought. I'm too old for this kind of stuff. She put aside her ink pen and nudged the sheaf of papers across the table with a careless gesture, stretching languidly as she considered the room about her. The quarters Azrakiel had granted her in his home were sparsely and simply furnished, with only a bed, a table with low, backless seats, and enough lighting to read by.

And there was plenty to read - a blessing, considering the restrictions her new mentor had imposed on her "socializing." She had essentially been in solitude for more than a week, and certainly hadn't been off Dantooine and back to her favored haunts and amongst familiar faces for quite some time. Driving me mad, but at least this gives me time to look this stuff up. . .

From Azrakiel's shelves, Daydream had retrieved a set of positively ancient data cards presenting the history of the planet Onderon, apparently prepared by some scribe to the royal family on that planet many millenia past. Her mentor had directed her to study the parties involved in the Hyperspace War and the Freedon Nadd Uprising, and the cards she had brought to her room even detailed some firsthand accounts from the latter event.

Daydream flopped onto the bed with datapad in hand, scanning to a section on a revolt against the pro-Republic government of the planet. Politics. . . always politics. They make people so unruly. She exhaled a heavy sigh and settled back to read.

Some hours later, her comlink chirped. She frowned.

Well, he said cut all social ties, but he didn't say to terminate all communications while I was here. The twi'lek wrinkled her nose, the tips of her lekku tapping thoughtfully against her back.

"This is Daydream," she answered.

"DD, where the hell have you been?" demanded a strident female voice.

"Dawnstar . . . " the tan-skinned twi'lek muttered. Dawnstar, one of the numerous twi'lek sharing the dubious fortune of being genetic duplicate or 'sister' to Daydream, had never been much for social graces when it came to conversation. This conversation was no different.

Dawnstar continued with her barrage of questions, her voice hissing out of the comlink like an angry rawl, "Yeah. Well? Where the hell are you? It's not that cult of lunatics led by "King Pinhead" himself, on Talus again, I hope. Are you locked up? Do you need me to come get you out of a cell again?"

Daydream set aside her datapad and rubbed her eyes. "No, no. It's not really like that."

"Not really? What, did they put some toys in the cell this time? Oh, I get it, maybe there's a zabr--"

"--I'm quite safe." Daydream interrupted, relieved that the twi'lek wasn't in the vicinity to see her blushing. "I just had to get away and work on some things." Blue-green eyes blinked slowly, eyeing the stack of datacards she had yet to scan.

"Work? You mean political stuff? This had better be a secure channel."

"Yeah . . . " Daydream mused, her mind wrapped around the work performed by the people around her. "Political, sort of. Trust me, I'm fine. Perfectly safe here. It's - lessons. Studying. That kind of thing."

"Well, yeah, you could have left me a note that you were going to be away, you know. People've been asking about you. I thought you'd been abducted," Dawnstar groused impatiently via the comlink. "You didn't even leave any food out for your kima, you know! I'm at the house now, the poor thing is starving! Here, talk to mommy."

A hoarse mewl rasped through the comlink. Obviously Dawnstar had put the input near the kima's throat, since it was most unlike any sound normally emitted by a twi'lek. Daydream chuckled as a hissing, spitting snarl roared out of the comlink, followed by the unmistakeable sound of Dawnstar swearing fluently in several languages.

"-- Yeah, well, I know you don't like this worrt meat, I wouldn't either. Damn. You got this thing on a special diet, DD?"

"Oh. No, but he's picky. Check with the shipping office in Bestine, would you? I have some peko-peko meat sent over from Naboo, only thing he'll eat," Daydream responded with a smile.

"While I'm running your errands in town," Dawnstar's voice grew sarcastic and slightly chill, "My superior made a point of telling me you haven't checked in at the medical center at the base. In over two weeks. That was another reason I contacted you. I'm sure you know what they'll do to you if they can't monitor you as they wish."

Dawnstar fell silent, but Daydream felt the thought-sound-feeling-memory being broadcast by her 'sister,' from wherever she was: 'Our loyalty must never be questioned.' Pain, terrible pain, and dreadful blackness.

"I'll . . . try to get back to Tatooine soon."

"I know. Don't make the mistake I did. You want me to run any other errands? Pass along any messages?"

Daydream smirked, offering a suggestion to Dawnstar to pass a specific message to a specific individual via a kiss on the cheek, earning a laugh over the com. She closed the link, muttering about having to get back to her lessons, and turned her attention back to the datapad, her mind elsewhere.

?Apprentice, we need to discuss your development.? The chill, quiet voice of Azrakiel interrupted her wandering thoughts, and she turned to see the cloaked human standing silently in her room.

The pair stood before the mouldering tomb, its stones dark with age. The damp air of Yavin IV hung oppressively about them, clinging and cloying, condensing on the wide leaves of the Massassi trees, spattering the crushed, decaying undergrowth with a leaden patter. Daydream stared mutely at the ancient structure, glancing up at the proud statue that stood vigil.

"Here it is, the last of the true Sith Lords," Azrakiel whispered coldly and almost reverently.

"You speak as if he were still alive," Daydream stated, her lekku phrasing wary tension around her shoulders, tucked into the weighted hood of her cloak despite the close, humid air.

"Do I?" Azrakiel smirked. "Perhaps he is, but his temple is overrun by rebels and something else -- a re-emergence of the Light. The fools have no idea what is here," Azrakiel breathed, gesturing for Daydream to follow through the archway of the tomb. "This is the place that serves as Saevio's obsession."

"What does he search for?" Daydream asked warily as she stepped over the threshhold, her eyes growing dark in the dim light streaming into the entry.

Azrakiel turned to look over the tomb, his pale eyes glittering strangely. "Power, knowledge and the remnants of Kun's Brotherhood. We were not always restricted to Banes petty 'Rule of Two'."

"He seeks to rebuild something, then," Daydream stated.

"As do I, and you are amongst the first of the building blocks, Daydream," the human declared quietly, gesturing at the dark-streaked stone blocks of the walls with an expansive sweep of his arm.

"That is why you work with him, is it not? You do not agree with that ancient 'Rule of Two'," Daydream whispered.

"Now you see the truth of it," he stated, turning his head to let the faint light from the tomb's entry catch his face, displaying a cold, calculating smile. "The Inquisition and its beliefs are weak, Daydream, and serve a man who's understanding of the Dark Side is hampered by political dealings."

Daydream stared at the human, her eyes wide. She paced around him in a slow, measured circle, her expression wary and her movements cautious.

His head turned to watch the twi'lek, Azrakiel whispered, "Surely you know that, Daydream. Your lover knows it, too."

"Those words tread perilously close to treason," Daydream hissed, focused on Azrakiel's words about the Emperor.

"Oh?" he smirked. "Did Saevio ever tell you what happens to us once we grow secure in our power?"

"Saevio does not speak to me of power, Azrakiel. Perhaps you should. I'll bite -- what happens?" She asked, watching him through narrowed eyes.

"The Emperor dismisses us permanently, Daydream."

"Such is not restricted to the Emperor, Azrakiel. I know should any of us under Saevio grow secure in power and pose a threat, we will be dismissed permanently as well. That is the way of things," she answered, waving a hand dismissively.

"Ahh, but with Saevio, he does not do so automatically; you also know that. Why else has he let Kis'met and the others live?" Azrakiel whispered, his voice pitched to create an eerie echo against the sweating walls of the tomb. "No, Saevio has foresight, as do you, I think, Daydream."

Daydream looked away, mumbling, "They're no threat to him."

Azrakiel responded with a smirk, "Careful with blind assumption. They know where we are located, they know who we are. They are very much a threat, Daydream --"

Turning to stare boldly at the human, Daydream's eyes flashed in the shadows of her hood. "Not so long as we present loyalty to the Empire."

"--or did Kis'Met's manipuliation of you teach you nothing, Apprentice?"

Daydream granted Azrakiel a very thin, controlled smile. "Think on this, Azrakiel," she intoned coldly. "I am here. She is not."

"Ahh, so now you seek to supplant me? Scream out into the heavens, or perhaps the Emperors retreat, and accuse me for these thoughts?" the human shook his head slowly, the movement sparse but elegant, communicating simple disdain. "He already knows, and my time is nearly nigh. And she will always be present in the bureaucracy of it all, Daydream."

Daydream smirked, "I don't seek to supplant you." Unspoken but visible in the way she stared intently at the cloaked human: Yet.

Azrakiel mirrored the twi'lek's smirk. "Of course you do," he whispered. "But not until I teach you all I can, hmm? I would be ashamed if my Student didn't harbor such thoughts, after all."

Daydream shook her head, blinking, as if realizing what she had said. She thought back to a conversation she had months ago, when Saevio had broached the matter of Master and Apprentice in his discipline, how the final test of a student's skill was whether they could destroy the teacher. She had responded to the concept with horror, and now here she was . . .

How did I get into this. . . ? Unease crawled over her features, settling over her brow as a frown.

"Have your means achieved your ends?" Azrakiel stooped gracefully, setting his saber on the damp stones underfoot. He took a few steps away, his eyes seemingly fixed on the bright blue-greens of the twi'lek.

Aloofly, Daydream responded, "My goals aren't quite yet complete, Azrakiel."

"You could always say I fell in battle with the Rebels, Daydream," he suggested, his whispered words slipping easily into her thoughts as if they were her own. "No more contention, no more worries about my skullduggery. It would be so easy for you now, in such an isolated place."

Daydream spared a glance for the sabre on the ground, her eyes hooded thoughtfully, then back to the apparently unarmed male. This is some sort of a trap., she decided. Or a test. "You still have your uses," she decided.

"Your tone reeks of Dathomir," Azrakiel whispered, taking note of her implied suggestion that he was nothing more than a male to be used as a tool. "Sister." He grinned mockingly as he spoke, the word echoing hollowly in the dark tomb.

Staring levelly at the human, Daydream retorted, "I am not a member of a Clan, Azrakiel, despite what you may think."

"Think of it, the High Inquisitor's chair open for you, and all you have to do is kill . . . " he paused, his mouth curling into a smirk, ". . . this unarmed male." Azrakiel turned his back to the small twi'lek, his movements deliberate. "Come, now -- do it, Daydream, and cement your place amongst the loyal Inquisitors," he whispered.

Daydream curled her fingers about the hilt of her weapon. "Are you so eager to die, Simus? You're tired of Azrakiel's body already?" she asked, letting her words draw into the hint of violence.

Turning his head, Azrakiel smiled at the twi'lek over his shoulder. "Come now, Daydream. Don't tell me you are that weak to resort to words," he whispered. He held a hand away from his body in a vague shrug, as if suggesting he was the weak one, weak, defenseless and unarmed.

"Weak?" she scoffed. "Hardly." Daydream pulled her weapon from her belt and ignited it in the same move, holding it with the humming, glowing magenta blade pointed towards the rear of her stance, angled towards the floor. She let her weight settle on her back foot, glaring at him.

"So you say, Daydream. So you say," he breathed.

Daydream snarled, stamped her front foot and lunged forward, bringing her blade about in a broad sweep to test Azrakiel, her unorthodox grip on the weapon granting her leverage for a more powerful swing. It can't be this easy, of course.

Azrakiel's hand, already extended in his "helpless" posture, closed about the hilt of a Sith's saber as it flew into his grip and ignited, filling the dark temple with a crimson glow. He parried her attack effortlessly, letting a cold smile settle on his mouth as he noted Daydream's gasp of shock or dismay. "Was that all, Daydream? Perhaps you should focus on your studies," he laughed.

"Perhaps if I had a better teacher I would focus more on my studies," she sneered, circling the cloaked human warily.

Azrakiel followed Daydream's cautious pacing both with his pale eyes and with the scarlet beam of his saber. "The same could be said of a pupil more busy with her lover than her studies," he decided, condescending.

Daydream paced forward and lunged, angling her blade in a thrust through his guard. "I'll have you know he is a companion, not my lover," she retorted. "You misjudge the situation if you think any love will ever be involved."

As the pair's blades hummed in the damp night air, Azrakiel shifted in a blur and black cloth and crimson glow, letting her blade singe his cloak and pass by, leaving him unscathed. "Then lust," the human countered casually. "You surely are a simple creature, Daydream."

Growling impatiently, Daydream swung her glowing blade in a wide arc, hoping to catch his blade as well as his eyes. Her hand dipped into the pocket of her cloak, clutching something. Azrakiel reversed his grip, gracefully adopting an unorthodox stance, surely not intended for combat. He drove his saber down to block her swing to prove that the unusual posture was indeed well suited for combat. Dancing aside, Daydream flung the handful of gravel she'd clutched at Azrakiel, tangling it in her will and her grip on the Force to accelerate the grit like tiny projectiles to sting, annoy, and distract the human.

Azrakiel tucked and rolled away from her and the debris spattering him, rubbing at his eyes. "You forget I am Echani," he hissed. He stood in a guard stance, waiting for his body to finish clearing the grit from his watering eyes.

Letting her weight fall onto her back foot, and resuming her dagger-grip on the hilt of her weapon, Daydream snarled, "It means nothing to me!" She lunged at Azrakiel, noting he stood effectively blinded, and spun her blade in a magenta flurry of sweeps at his legs. Before his eyes could clear, he leaped impossibly high into the air, his legs extended out, and his saber plunged down to catch the twi'lek's frenzied attacks as he landed lightly. Azrakiel smirked; their sabers were now locked together, and Daydream glared hotly across the snapping, hissing glow of their weapons.

"Perhaps it is time to play in earnest, hm?" Azrakiel took a breath, focusing his will, and energy began to course down both figures. Daydream mouthed a silent curse at the man and struggled, distracted by the crackling energy, obviously trying to figure out how to draw it off with her saber or break his focus.

"If you think this is merely a game to be played," she managed, "I'm disappointed." The twi'lek bent her knee, as if shifting her stance to brace herself... or preparing to drive it into his groin.

"Life is full of disappointments," Azrakiel whispered. "'Ware your leg." With that, the human brought his leg against the back of Daydream's and forced the saber lock forward, sending her tumbling to the ground. Smiling cruelly, Azrakiel kicked at Daydream's saber, sending it spinning far out of reach, and brought his blade perilously close to her lekku, causing the twi'lek to freeze in horror. He brushed the crimson glow against her cloak, singeing the cloth, then stepped away and doused his blade.

The muted hum of a magenta saber throbbed in the dark silence of the ruined temple.

Expressing her capacity for multilingual profanity, the twi'lek rolled to her feet. She gathered her singed cloak about her with an angry sweeping gesture, stalking across the damp stones to retrieve and douse her weapon, then to join her teacher outside.

"Perhaps now, with your anger in full bloom, you can see what you are ready to see," Azrakiel intoned, gesturing at the ruined temple.

Daydream glared at the human, letting a very pointed gesture of brushing ash and soot from her cloak be her response. Her breath was shallow with anger, her lekku twitching with fretful anger, and she obviously didn't trust herself to speak.

"Perhaps now, in this place, you understand; I will not have you weak, Daydream. I will make you something to be feared." He nodded slightly to the statue standing its silent vigil over the tomb. "Until we rise again, my friend."

Daydream glared up at the statue, then glanced over her shoulder at Azrakiel as he moved away. "Do you feel I have learned what I must from your little play-in-earnest?"

"The lesson is learned," he whispered in response. "Your anger is my answer, Apprentice."

"Come, I want to show you something, Daydream," Azrakiel whispered as he drew the twi'lek inside his home, guiding her upstairs.

"Of course," she answered politely, but her lekku, had they not been bound with simple black ribbons, would have been twitching and tapping fretfully. She paused at the entry to what she knew was his private meditation chamber, a room she'd been admitted to only once before, when Azrakiel had done something, something to her mind to excise what he believed was unacceptable tampering by Kis'met. She scarcely recalled the details, other than Azrakiel's (although by then she realized it wasn't Azrakiel at all, but something far, far older) silent demand that she ask for his help, and a brutal rending/ripping that left her blind and prone for several moments, exhausted for days, and with no real recollection or emotional attachment to what had occurred between herself and the blue spitfire twi'lek during the woman's fateful lesson. She did, however, recall the pain that was born in the chamber.

Azrakiel ushered her into the room, gesturing at a chair set before a chaotic, twisted sculpture in which a small red crystalline shape nestled, casting a dim and baleful glow over the stone figure. "Sit down, Daydream. It won't take more than a minute or so."

"What won't?" Daydream asked, deciding that now was certainly not the time to end her habit of playing dumb. She glanced over her shoulder, feeling a familiar presence of oppressive menace making itself known. Azrakiel nodded once at Saevio's appearance, and the dark-skinned zabrak returned the gesture, casting a sly smirk at the twi'lek as he took up a sentinel's stance in a corner.

Azrakiel answered in a cold whisper: "Your lesson."

"What . . . No paper and ink this time?" Daydream asked lightly. She looked over the chair suspiciously. This must be some sort of trap. Maybe I should have sent that damn message after all.

Saevio moved his hand in a subtle gesture, sending the door behind Daydream to slide closed. The twi'lek started slightly at the pneumatic hiss of the door and the faint click of the lock engaged by Saevio's will. Pale eyes flickered nervously towards the door, back to the chair Azrakiel motioned towards. "Feel free to inspect it," Azrakiel whispered. "There are no shackles or locks there, if that is your fear." He gestured again towards the chair, his voice growing chill on his last word.

"As you say, then," the twi'lek muttered lightly. "I doubt there are any shackles or locks that could hold me for long." She settled gingerly on the chair, managing a polite smile for her teacher, and tilted her head, regarding the statue and the gleaming red object settled in its grasp. "Is this the 'special' chair? We used to have one in the corner at the academy for the bad ..." She trailed off, the flippant tone to her voice faltering in confusion as Azrakiel bent to retrieve the small crystalline object, his lips curled in the ghost of a smile.

"A gift for a devout, if sarcastic, student, Daydream," the human whispered, placing the crimson holocron on her lap. "Just let yourself go, Daydream. The holocron will focus your will and may show you things -- things that have happened, things that may happen, and things that will happen." He straightened, smoothing his cloak with a refined economy of physical grace. "You need to see this."

Wary, Daydream glanced up at Azrakiel, her face tightening into a frown. She shrugged, responded quietly. "As you say."

"Whatever you see, do not look away." Azrakiel instructed, "It will only strengthen you, Daydream."

The twi'lek silently addressed her will to the holocron, smiling with satisfaction as it responded easily to her desire. Her attention captured by the images held in the holocron, she paid little heed to Azrakiel's cloaked figure moving to stand behind her, and only a few moments were granted for the coldly whispered assurances offered by Azrakiel as he worked. Daydream's smile faded quickly, reflecting a myriad of emotions in the crimson gleam of the holocron: first horror, twisting quickly into shades of bitter, cynical fury; then burning shame crept scarlet over her cheeks. Her fingers clutched at the arms of the chair with a white-knuckled grip, and her posture mirrored trembling terror and genuine fear at something seen in the crystal.

Saevio remained silent, the shadows of his hood cast down over his face as he settled a crimson-eyed stare on Azrakiel, observing the human at work.

"These things will come to pass if you continue following blind dogma, Daydream. Let go of your loyalties to those who do not remain loyal to you like Saevio and myself," Azrakiel murmured, an insidious, persuasive tone creeping into his voice as he worked unseen behind the twi'lek. "Keep focusing, Apprentice."

Responding with a slow sigh, Daydream banished the flinching, fearful tension from her posture and her face, and addressed the holocron once more. A grim smile of satisfied victory flitted over her features and her stare grew avid and intent as if she relished what she saw, the crimson glow from the crystalline structure echoed in eager eyes.

Daydream tilted her head in an aspect of listening to something... someone? She braced her hands against the chair as if to push herself away from it, then froze, her entire body going rigid for several heartbeats.

Then the twi'lek doubled over with a silent scream, writhing in mute agony, blue-green eyes staring staring sightlessly at the holocron. Simultaneously, Azrakiel staggered to the floor with a gasp: "A final gift from Master to Apprentice, Daydream. The Force frees us all."

Saevio allowed himself only a slight grin.

"You are free, Daydream. Free of him, free to be what you were meant to be," Azrakiel whispered emphatically.

It was obvious that the "him" to which Azrakiel referred was the Emperor, and the combined efforts of Azrakiel's holocron and the Sith sorcery he'd filled the diminutive twi'lek with had supplanted both the psychological and genetic manipulations that had created her, leaving her . . . something else entirely, something without those invisible bonds of loyalty to those ideals.

Daydream turned her head slowly to stare at the prone figure of Azrakiel, and her voice was quiet and cold: "Get up."

"Now you see what you were meant to, Daydream. The test is over and the teaching is done," he whispered, drawing himself upright.

Tilting her head back, Daydream shuddered at the physical memory of agony, trying to assess what had happened, what had been broken or fixed inside her very being, what had been lost, and what had been gained. "What did you do to me?!"

"I freed you from your pain, from your own shame. In the end, you freed yourself through the Force. Do you not see the truth of it?"

Saevio's crimson stare flickered from Azrakiel towards Daydream, and his expression stated his silent belief that the twi'lek would either kill Azrakiel, or accept the truth.

Daydream pushed herself from the chair, turning to study Azrakiel.

"So, Mistress. Are you ready to recieve your accolades?" the human asked.

Eyeing Azrakiel suspiciously, Daydream considered her response. I should let him think Azrakiel failed... She moved her hand pointedly to hover at her waist, near her saber hilt. I just know this is going to make him stare.

Saevio stared at Daydream.

"Yes," the twi'lek announced, letting her tanned hand fall away from her belt. "And my name is Daydream. If you call me 'Mistress' again, I shall throttle you."

Raising a subtle hand to his chin and stroking it lightly, Saevio continued to observe the two, looking through Daydream rather than at her.

"So be it," Azrakiel whispered. "No more check-ins at the medical center --"

I shouldn't be surprised that he knew about those.

"--no more servitude to an Empire that would use and abuse your trust. Welcome to a Golden Age. I told you once you were a stone upon which it would be based." Azrakiel turned his head to study the dark zabrak who watched them suspiciously. "Now we are three."