Star Wars_ Darth Bane 01_ Path of Destruction - Drew Karpyshyn [68]
Exposing personal weakness was something only a fool or an idiot would risk here at the Academy. Yet the hard truth was that Bane had nothing left to lose.
“All my life I’ve been driven by my anger,” he explained. He spoke slowly, staring down at the surface of the table, unable to look her in the eye. “My anger made me strong. It was my connection to the Force and the dark side. When Fohargh died—when I killed him—I realized I was responsible for my father’s death. I killed him through the power of the dark side.”
“And you felt guilty?” she asked, once again placing a soft hand on his arm.
“No. Maybe. I don’t know.” Her hand was warm; he could feel the heat radiating through the fabric of his sleeve to his skin underneath. “All I know is that the realization changed me. The anger that drove me was gone. All that was left behind was … well … nothing.”
“Give me your hand.” Her voice was stern, and Bane hesitated only an instant before reaching out. She clasped his palm with both her hands. “Close your eyes,” she ordered, even as she shut her own.
In the darkness he became acutely aware of how tightly she had clenched his hand: squeezing the flesh so hard he could feel the beating of her heart through her palms. It was quick and urgent, and his already racing heart accelerated in response.
He felt a tingling in his fingers, something beyond mere physical contact. She was reaching out with the Force.
“Come with me, Bane,” she whispered.
Suddenly he felt as if he were falling. No, not falling: diving. Swooping down into a great abyss, the black emptiness inside his very being. The chill darkness numbed his body; he lost all sensation in his extremities. He could no longer feel Githany’s hands wrapped about his own. He didn’t even know if she was still sitting beside him. He was alone in the freezing void.
“The dark side is emotion, Bane.” Her words came to him from a long way off, faint but unmistakable. “Anger, hate, love, lust. These are what make us strong. Peace is a lie. There is only passion.” Her words were louder now, loud enough to drown out the drumming of his heart. “Your passion is still there, Bane. Seek it out. Reclaim it.”
As if in response to her words his emotions began to well up inside him. He felt anger. Fury. Pure, pulsing hatred: hatred of the other students for ostracizing him, hatred of the Masters for abandoning him. Most of all he hated Sirak. And with the hate came the hunger for revenge.
Then he felt something else. A spark; a flicker of light and heat in the cold darkness. His mind lunged out and grasped the flame, and for one brief instant he felt the glorious power of the Force burning through him once more. Then Githany let go of his hand and it was gone—snuffed out as if he had merely imagined it. But he hadn’t. It was real. He’d actually felt it.
He opened his eyes warily, like a man waking from a dream he was afraid to forget. From the expression on Githany’s face, he knew she must have felt something, too.
“How did you do that?” he asked, trying and failing to keep the desperation out of his voice.
“Master Handa taught me when I was studying under him in the Jedi order,” she admitted. “I lost touch with the Force once, just as you have. I was still a young girl when it happened. My mind simply couldn’t cope with something so vast and infinite. It created a wall to protect itself.”
Bane nodded, remaining fervently silent so she could continue.
“Your anger is still there. As is the Force. Now you must break through the walls you’ve built around it. You have to go back to the beginning and learn how to connect with the Force once more.”
“How do I do that?”
“Training,” Githany answered, as if it was obvious. “How else does one learn to use the Force?”
The faint hope her revelation had kindled inside him died.
“The Masters won’t train me anymore,” he mumbled. “Qordis has forbidden it.”
“I will