Star Wars_ Fate of the Jedi 08_ Ascension - Christie Golden [16]
And some things they knew were fascinating indeed. Like someone methodically planting seeds in fertile ground, Vol recalled all that had transpired in the past few days, gently tucking the seeds of information into the good soil of his subconscious and patting down gently. At last, tired from the busy few days and that night’s event, he rose, sighing as his bones emitted audible creaks, and slipped between the comfortable sheets.
He was glad there were at least a few hours before the meeting with Abeloth in the morning. Trances were certainly useful, but natural, simple rest was sometimes even better.
Sleep found him quickly.
And so did something else.
He stood, alone, on the lavender shores of the ocean, lightsaber held in one gnarled hand. The heat was oppressive, the sun beating down on him more strongly than it did even in the height of summer. His robes were heavy, far too heavy, and he became aware immediately that this was much more than a simple dream.
She stood facing him, wearing her lovely Keshiri visage like the mask she had worn tonight. But this time, she was deliberately permitting the mask to slip.
Vol had seen much violence, deceit, ugliness, and brutality in his day. He had seen, and sometimes committed, deeds such as evisceration of the body and torture of the mind through the power of the dark side. He had seen bodies explode into tiny fragments, watched powerfully intelligent people reduced to gibbering idiots when their minds were destroyed thought by thought.
And he shrank back in horror now at the monstrosity revealed to him.
Before him was a nightmare. Her hair was long, twining tendrils of hideousness, her eyes sunken and yet bright as tiny stars, her mouth widening, widening, until it split her face. She laughed, the tendrils reaching out both physically and in the Force.
“Silly Vol,” she said. “To imagine, even for a moment, that anything human could even conceive of the vastness that is Abeloth, let alone trap me for your own tiny-minded purposes. Now you shall die, and your world shall become mine. I shall be unto them Protector and Destructor both, and there is nothing that you or any of your little friends can do to stop me.”
The tendrils were on him now, slithering into his mouth, his ears, his nose, caressing in a strangely appealing manner even as he cringed back in loathing.
It was a dream, he knew, but it was more than a dream as well. And even in such an in-between place, Vol knew what he had to do. It terrified him, but the thought of being destroyed without a fight by this vile thing terrified him even worse.
He had to dive inside that mind.
He took a precious second to wrap the Force around him like a blanket, then unshielded his mind and opened it to Abeloth.
In her arrogant glee at the ambush she had performed, she was reckless. She surged forward, violating his mind, unaware that this was precisely what Vol wanted. She had given him entrance, and he wasted not a heartbeat in opening up to the ugliness that was within. Like a thief with the law on his heels, Vol plundered swiftly, with no care for delicacy or of discovery. And he found unexpected riches.
Anguish. Loss that ripped and tore at the heart of all that was Abeloth. Betrayal. Need—need!—for companionship, for love, for someone, anyone, anything, to adore her and to never, ever leave. To stay with her forever …
—Don’t leave me don’t leave me don’t leave me—
Something that was part of her, that she had loved with all that was in her, was gone, gone beyond finding again, and someone would pay, and she would be loved and idolized and worshipped, it was right, it was what should be, what would be—
He felt her astonishment, and then fury, and knew he was discovered. The tendrils were no longer