CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
--Damosus--
Time had not treated the granite tombstone well. Pieces of it had been chipped away by harsh weather and the inscriptions were now barely visible. Varon knew what they read though and did not require closer inspection.
Vandos Sendor. T.Y. 8967-9015
Orran Sendor. T.Y. 9002-9015
They were names he had not thought about in over twenty years. They no longer meant anything to him (as if they ever had to begin with), but he needed to see them one last time, if only to make things more poetic.
Sao came up to him, proudly holding the emptied fuel container with a grin. Varon stared at the Veknoid for a moment before kneeling down in front of him.
"Sao," he said softly. "You have been most faithful and loyal to me. I am very grateful for your services."
Sao smiled as he nodded. "Sao lives to please."
Varon allowed his lips to form their own smile. "I have but one last request to make of you. Then you shall be freed from service."
"Yes, master. Anything for master."
Varon reached into his cloak and pulled out a lighter. Igniting it, he handed it to Sao. "Wait until I am out of sight. Then, throw this to the ground."
The Veknoid nodded dutifully as he took the lighter. "Of course, master."
Still smiling, Varon stood up and turned to leave. "Thank you, Sao. You've done good."
With that, he departed from the cemetery. It wasn't until he was over the small hill did the fire erupt. It wasn't until he heard the sirens did he bow his head and allowed a small tear to escape his closed eyelids.
"You've done good...."
* * *
Green eyes watched the raging fire through the protection of a glass window. If it was coming from where the woman believed it to be, it wouldn't be long before it spread and became a wildfire.
Brisha Syo took in a deep breath, letting it out as a tired sigh. Despite the impending danger, she did not feel motivated to move out of her home as soon as possible. It wasn't as if she had anything of value to take with her; she would just leave as soon as temperatures began to rise.
A chime rang through the house. Her breath hitched as a familiar presence touched her senses. It was a presence she had not felt in a long time, not since shortly before she set out to continue the Sith legacy following Darth Vorath's death.
How did he know she would be here? How did he know she was even still alive? She had done everything to hide herself: changing her name and appearance, forging a false background, even masking her presence with the Force so he would not be able to find her.
She should have known better to underestimate him. After all, he took after both his parents....
Another chime. Brisha took in another breath and slowly let it out. There was no use in putting off the inevitable. One way or another he was going to find a way in. She briskly made her way across the room before finally reaching the door, pressing the control panel to open it.
Standing there, under the illumination of her porch light, was her son, cold dark eyes meeting her green ones. In a quiet voice, he said, "Hello, mother."
"Hello, Varon," she said evenly, before stepping aside to allow him entrance. "Come in. Make yourself at home."
The tall dark-robed man did so. As he passed by her, Brisha noticed his eyes were red and his cheeks glistened slightly. A part of her wanted to say something but quickly thought better of it. As she closed the door, she watched her son stop in the middle of the living room, surveying the scarce furniture. All there was was a sofa, a rocking chair, and a table.
As she started to head for the kitchen, Brisha cleared her throat and said, "Would you care for some tea?"
"No, thank you," he said.
Nodding to herself, Brisha went into the kitchen and made her tea. When she came back into the room, Varon was now standing at the window, watching the fire tear the cemetery asunder. Sirens could be heard in the distance as emergency vehicles came to battle the inferno.
Brisha sat herself down in the rocking chair, holding her tea in her lap, as she swayed the chair back and forth. For a while neither of them said a word, the only sound being the quiet squeak of her rocker. When the silence became unbearable for her, Brisha decided then to speak.
"Why are you here?"
Varon's shoulders tensed, not turning to face his mother. "I'm here to kill you," he whispered, his voice devoid of any emotion.
Brisha was unfazed by this; she could read her son like an open book. Taking a small sip of her tea, she then cleared her throat and said, "And why are you here to kill me? Why did you burn the graves of your brother and uncle? I sense the answer to both is the same...."
"I'm tying up loose ends," Varon replied. "I'm ridding myself of my past so I may start anew."
"As Darth Taral," Brisha muttered, taking another sip. "Such is the way of the Sith, remaking one's self. I suppose that was probably Vorath's intent when he had you kill Vandos and Orran."
At this, Varon finally turned to face her, his eyes piercing into hers. "You knew, didn't you? You knew Vorath would select me as an acolyte."
"Of course I did," Brisha said softly. "It was the sole reason for having you."
Varon's dark eyes flashed yellow and Brisha could feel her son's anger fill the room. "So that's it, then. My birth, my conception -- it was all arranged by someone else. I was simply a toy you made for someone else to play with."
"It's not as if you were the only one," Brisha said sharply. "There were others."
"Others?" Varon repeated. "From you?"
"No. Other adepts serving Vorath. He wanted to build a legacy of Sith, a dynasty that would serve him throughout his eternal reign."
As she spoke, Varon turned away from her and faced the window again. She watched him patiently, waiting for him to put the pieces together. When he finally spoke, she could see it all clicking together.
"Scorpius and Karis... all of my fellow apprentices... they were among these children as well."
"Some of them, yes," Brisha said. "I know for a fact since it was I who led Darth Sedriss to them."
Varon slowly turned his head at this. "You know Sedriss?"
Brisha nodded. "She approached me with the intent of... relinquishing me of my title as Dark Lord. I gave it to her freely though, having already suffered the loss of my apprentice and my pride."
"And you told her of the other acolytes? Including myself?"
"Yes. I had been keeping tabs on all of you in case I needed another apprentice."
"So still you refused to be there for me even though you knew of my whereabouts all along." Varon scoffed. "Tactful parenting."
Brisha closed her eyes and sighed. "Varon, please understand...."
"Oh, I understand completely. Compassion is never the way of the Sith." He then turned around fully to face her, his eyes red. "Tell me -- tell me truthfully... did you ever love me?"
She looked up at him, eyes wide. "What?"
"Did you love me? As your son? Tell me."
"Varon, I--"
"Tell me!" he roared.
She said nothing at first, staring at her progeny with tear-brimmed eyes. She then bowed her head and let out a wracked sob. "No," she murmured. "No, I never did."
No response came from initially, staring at her blankly. Then, he nodded. "All right then. Thank you."
She looked back up at him. "For what?"
"For making this easier for the both of us."
A snap-hiss heralded the appearance of a red blade in Varon's hand. Just as he was about to bring the lightsaber to her head, Brisha decided then to finally play her last card.
"There is another."
His blade stopped mid-swing. His eyes, now yellow, were boring into hers. "Another what?" he hissed.
She smiled, a twinkle in her green eyes. "You think you have everyone of your blood accounted for? There is another Sendor."
Varon's face twisted in confusion. "What are you talking about?"
"Turn off that lightsaber and I'll tell you."
Varon stared at her for a moment, searching her face for any signs of deceit. Then, finally, he switched off the scarlet blade. "Speak."
"Certainly. But first...." She stood up from her chair and lifted her tea cup. "I think we could both use some tea."
Standing there, under the illumination of her porch light, was her son, cold dark eyes meeting her green ones. In a quiet voice, he said, "Hello, mother."
"Hello, Varon," she said evenly, before stepping aside to allow him entrance. "Come in. Make yourself at home."
The tall dark-robed man did so. As he passed by her, Brisha noticed his eyes were red and his cheeks glistened slightly. A part of her wanted to say something but quickly thought better of it. As she closed the door, she watched her son stop in the middle of the living room, surveying the scarce furniture. All there was was a sofa, a rocking chair, and a table.
As she started to head for the kitchen, Brisha cleared her throat and said, "Would you care for some tea?"
"No, thank you," he said.
Nodding to herself, Brisha went into the kitchen and made her tea. When she came back into the room, Varon was now standing at the window, watching the fire tear the cemetery asunder. Sirens could be heard in the distance as emergency vehicles came to battle the inferno.
Brisha sat herself down in the rocking chair, holding her tea in her lap, as she swayed the chair back and forth. For a while neither of them said a word, the only sound being the quiet squeak of her rocker. When the silence became unbearable for her, Brisha decided then to speak.
"Why are you here?"
Varon's shoulders tensed, not turning to face his mother. "I'm here to kill you," he whispered, his voice devoid of any emotion.
Brisha was unfazed by this; she could read her son like an open book. Taking a small sip of her tea, she then cleared her throat and said, "And why are you here to kill me? Why did you burn the graves of your brother and uncle? I sense the answer to both is the same...."
"I'm tying up loose ends," Varon replied. "I'm ridding myself of my past so I may start anew."
"As Darth Taral," Brisha muttered, taking another sip. "Such is the way of the Sith, remaking one's self. I suppose that was probably Vorath's intent when he had you kill Vandos and Orran."
At this, Varon finally turned to face her, his eyes piercing into hers. "You knew, didn't you? You knew Vorath would select me as an acolyte."
"Of course I did," Brisha said softly. "It was the sole reason for having you."
Varon's dark eyes flashed yellow and Brisha could feel her son's anger fill the room. "So that's it, then. My birth, my conception -- it was all arranged by someone else. I was simply a toy you made for someone else to play with."
"It's not as if you were the only one," Brisha said sharply. "There were others."
"Others?" Varon repeated. "From you?"
"No. Other adepts serving Vorath. He wanted to build a legacy of Sith, a dynasty that would serve him throughout his eternal reign."
As she spoke, Varon turned away from her and faced the window again. She watched him patiently, waiting for him to put the pieces together. When he finally spoke, she could see it all clicking together.
"Scorpius and Karis... all of my fellow apprentices... they were among these children as well."
"Some of them, yes," Brisha said. "I know for a fact since it was I who led Darth Sedriss to them."
Varon slowly turned his head at this. "You know Sedriss?"
Brisha nodded. "She approached me with the intent of... relinquishing me of my title as Dark Lord. I gave it to her freely though, having already suffered the loss of my apprentice and my pride."
"And you told her of the other acolytes? Including myself?"
"Yes. I had been keeping tabs on all of you in case I needed another apprentice."
"So still you refused to be there for me even though you knew of my whereabouts all along." Varon scoffed. "Tactful parenting."
Brisha closed her eyes and sighed. "Varon, please understand...."
"Oh, I understand completely. Compassion is never the way of the Sith." He then turned around fully to face her, his eyes red. "Tell me -- tell me truthfully... did you ever love me?"
She looked up at him, eyes wide. "What?"
"Did you love me? As your son? Tell me."
"Varon, I--"
"Tell me!" he roared.
She said nothing at first, staring at her progeny with tear-brimmed eyes. She then bowed her head and let out a wracked sob. "No," she murmured. "No, I never did."
No response came from initially, staring at her blankly. Then, he nodded. "All right then. Thank you."
She looked back up at him. "For what?"
"For making this easier for the both of us."
A snap-hiss heralded the appearance of a red blade in Varon's hand. Just as he was about to bring the lightsaber to her head, Brisha decided then to finally play her last card.
"There is another."
His blade stopped mid-swing. His eyes, now yellow, were boring into hers. "Another what?" he hissed.
She smiled, a twinkle in her green eyes. "You think you have everyone of your blood accounted for? There is another Sendor."
Varon's face twisted in confusion. "What are you talking about?"
"Turn off that lightsaber and I'll tell you."
Varon stared at her for a moment, searching her face for any signs of deceit. Then, finally, he switched off the scarlet blade. "Speak."
"Certainly. But first...." She stood up from her chair and lifted her tea cup. "I think we could both use some tea."
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