The Fourteenth Great Jedi War left deep wounds across the surface of Arx. One such victim, unnoticed by the Brotherhood at large, was the Corrino Research Laboratory on the marshy continent of Uskil. The Collective had assaulted the Shadow Academy's Nesolat platform to gain access to the surface of Arx, its strategic importance dwarfing its role as an isolated research facility. When the battle moved to the planet's surface, the Nesolat was discarded like so much chaff, and debris from the disintegrating station was scattered across the planet.

Some of that debris struck the specimen habitat, damaging them enough for the specimens contained within to escape into Uskil’s swampy wilderness. In the aftermath of the invasion, playing animal control was a low priority for the Iron Throne, but the beasts became more of a nuisance—and even a danger—as time went on. Their exposure to the maelstrom of Force energies around Uskil, stirred up by the Grand Master’s ritual during the invasion, has made the creatures aggressive and unpredictable.

Rather than wandering Uskil’s swampy, storm-soaked wildlands, many of the escaped beasts have since returned to their ruined habitats, finding the climate more to their liking; it was designed for them, after all. They’ve since become extremely territorial, attacking any Shadow Academy staff who try to remove them so the habitats can be rebuilt. Rather than continue to delay the Academy’s research and sacrifice hapless construction workers and lab technicians, the Headmistress has put out a call to any members of the Brotherhood who are willing to help with the problem.

Your goal in this scenario is to subdue and capture the hostile creature so that it can be transported to a different facility for further testing. As the creature has been modified by the Academy’s scientists, the Headmistress would strongly prefer that you capture it alive, rather than killing it and forcing the researchers to make do with data from a dead specimen.

"...this is why animals are terrible and pets are dumb, they're animals, they can't be controlled, there's always a risk, ay, ay, ay! They just eat and they're there, that's food money that could be for people, an animal can survive fine on its own out in nature, we don't mess with them they don't mess with us, but no, noooooo, nooooOOO, some frangers had to go and capture these and then experiment on them because WHEN DOES THAT EVER HAVE CONSEQUENCES, holy kriffing gods, Ashla and Bogan and Ancestors."

"I only recognized like...two words in there. But it's two!"

A bright, toothy grin accompanied the words, shot over the shoulder of the small Zabrak prowling in front of him. Ruka paused his whispered ranting in favor of dredging up a tight smile back at her. Sera's joy was an infectious thing. Its presence in their definitely dangerous situation sent his blood pressure up to his eyes and his muscles tightening even as much as it made him want to stand a little straighter and walk a little taller and maybe break the limbs of anybody that so much as dared to treat her wrong.

"What did you recognize?" he asked softly as they sloshed on through yet another pool. It was hard to call them lakes or ponds. He didn't know what to call them, really. It was just water, mud, earth, then more water on repeat. Sometimes the channels were wide and deep, deep and thin, shallow and wide— all combinations. The rain didn't stop, not for a second, and the wind either roared or howled, no in between. Their light sources were their sabers and the lightning overhead. They hadn't seen daylight since they'd landed on Uskil, and it was notably dimming Sera's sunshiny mood.

The Zabrak turned towards him again, pausing as she pushed aside a drooping branch and grinning even wider, even brighter.

Well, who needed daylight when there was that smile shining at him?

"Ashla and Bogan," she replied with a cheeky wink, sticking out her tongue, and Ruka groaned.

"I thought you wanted to learn a little."

"Cora sent me holos," the Huntress whined, as if that explained everything. Which...it actually did. She hated reading, and her efforts at forming a better relationship with it were slow. He wished she'd take it more seriously. And take this mission more seriously. This place was just wrong. "I'm trying! Really. It's just…reading. And I've got so much stuff with paperwork already as Aedile now, there's so many reports, Ruuuuu…"

"And you'll read them all because you care and when you care you give it your all, so you're going to be an amazing leader and I would be willing to follow you anywhere," the Mirialan returned, clapping her firmly on the shoulder and ignoring her dramatics completely. "Like to this damn cat thing before it or anything else mauls us."

"The sand-panther," Sera corrected with the littlest bit more somberness, straightening under his praise. "And I'm tracking her! We're right on her tail, trust me. She has to hunt, and she can't do that in her den."

"How do you know it's a female?"

"Depth of the tracks. Scent markings. No spray, yeah? And no signs of fights with other creatures. Males are more aggressive about that, but females are huntresses. They focus." This was explained with another toothy grin, this one more feral and preening. Ruka bumped her shoulder. Grateful as he was to have been sent out with an actual expert for this mission, he couldn't help his usual concern for Sera's cockiness. He couldn't stop looking over his shoulder or fidgeting as he wiped water from his eyes.

"Usredotatenc," he replied after a beat, and the Zabrak cocked her head.

"Ooosrrr-huh?" she echoed.

"It's Mirialan. It means focus. Now you know another word, ay?"

The Arconan gave him a look. "Okay, geez, I get it. But we really are fine, Ru, I'm focused. This is my...my me. This is what I'm best at." Her blue eyes turned fierce yet pleading, somehow, and his knees wanted to do things like give out. She was nearly as bad as Cora, with the eyes. How did they both manage to do that look? As if he could say no to that? As if he could do anything but believe in that?

"...I know it is," Ruka relented after a pause, blowing out a breath and trying to center his prickling nerves with it. They kept itching at the nape of his neck. "And I trust you at it, ay, believe me. I'm so far out of my depth here." For emphasis, he gestured at the water they were standing in, neatly knee high and churning with mud that billowed black under the surface and reflected the storms back perfectly. It wasn't just the cold that gave him chills. He couldn't see what was around them under there. He kept feeling plant matter and algae, or so he hoped, tugging at his limbs and weapons. They had to nearly be back to the Hot Labs by now, surely? They'd been walking so slowly and so carefully for so long and something was wrong.

Something was wrong—

"Ruka?" his friend was asking him.

And he moved.

The Mirialan was out of the water, across the nearest copse of thin trees, and skidding through sop between them in a flash, just the adrenaline-high jolt between heartbeats that it took to pump blood through Force-amplified muscles. Sera was in his arms, heavier with waterlogged armor, clutched protectively. The points of her horns bit into his jaw.

The pain was fire across his shoulders, a sharp contrast to the clinging cold of the rain and the marshes. It absolutely burned, and he couldn't help a strangled hiss as he twisted his torso.

The Zabrak was out of his hold and on her feet in seconds, her knife in her hand; the one that wasn't her brother's. Her eyes were fixed past him, and the Mirialan pivoted with his saber called to his palm.

He was looking right at the thing, and it still took him a second to realize it. The sand-panther was utterly kriffing silent, looming there with a dark and light coat and patterning that made it nearly invisible until it actually moved. It was like watching black fabric sliding over black fabric, motion catching the eye but the brain slow to make sense of it. The only things that stood out were its pale eyes, peering at them from a soaked, mud-caked face that could barely be described as feline. This creature was too fearsome to be compared to any cat.

Sera hissed again, a short sound, but she was incredibly still. Her lithe musculature was locked, eyes on the panther and the panther's on her. Ruka's fingers twitched to release his saber, intending to use it to decapitate the beast from afar, but even that little move brought the predator's eyes snapping to him like a bullet from a gun.

It pounced just as fast.

The weight slammed into him faster and harder than he could track, and then he was down, and he went under, choking as his mouth and nose flooded with silt and scum. Breath was crushed out of him by the sheer mass of the panther, ribs cracking without breaking entirely, and it was nothing but pure, unadulterated instinct that had him blindly shoving back with his mind.

The massive form disappeared. His face broke the surface, and he gagged and gasped, flailing, knowing he was in danger and reeling from it, the animal part of his brain scurrying to flee. The rest of him fought it, bringing hands up and drawing in the Force until he was bursting, full of power to fight without caring for the direction so long as it meant survival.

Then Sera was there, and a bowstring sang. He heard a howl, and it gave him somewhere to turn, a lodestone for his thoughts and instincts while he got his bearings. He got his feet under him and put his back to hers, grounded in the moment by the flare of agony that produced.

The brackish water stung the lacerations, as did the press of Sera's body, but there was nothing he could do about that now. He ignored the burning and pushed on, spitting a mouthful and following her gaze when she drew and shot another arrow from her short hip quiver. This one missed, but the first was lodged in the muscular shoulder of the panther that he'd tossed clear across the marsh from them like a ragdoll. It snarled and prowled forward, fangs bared, a growl continuous and deeper and louder than the thunder.

"Gotta hamstring her," Sera spoke, fierce tone underlaid with a bit of excitement and respect at once. The Mirialan didn't care about the hunt; he cared about that thing not getting close to them again. Dead or alive didn't matter.

Ruka thrust out his hand with a pained grimace, eyes lighting bright, unnatural gold as arcs of lightning exploded from his fingertips towards their stalker. The electricity struck and...and dispersed across the panther's dappled, spiked hide. It snarled and growled, skittering away in a circle and shaking itself as if agitated.

The Mirialan gaped, and even Sera's bow lowered slightly in shock.

"Did you just shoot lightning at her?"

"It didn't do anything."

"But...but it's lightning." There was a bit of sick horror in her tone, and he knew he'd put it there. "It… That's not normal."

"They warned us these things wouldn't be normal. They've been messed with. The list they gave us, some of these things are normally blaster or even saber resistant: the oggdo, the rancors. Didn't you read—" he cut off as the panther decided a little shock wasn't actually anything to worry about and paced back towards them. They both spun slowly to keep their backs to one another while following its movements. "Ra'tueria, tell me you read."

"I skimmed," Sera hedged, shooting him a weak grin that didn't reach her focused eyes. "Does that mean our sabers won't work?"

"I don't know— duck!"

They pushed off one another and dove for the dirt just as the beast pounced where they'd been standing. It lashed out, claws ripping the bow out of Sera's hands and crushing it. The Zabrak had her knife back in her grip before a heartbeat even passed and slashed back in a horizontal cut. Ruka's lit saber in turn raked across its exposed back, but instead of carving right through the flesh, it only left a deep, angry, smoking slash.

"Kriff—!"

The panther spun on him with an enraged bellow, and he backpedalled and called out.

"Your knives!"

Sera did what she was best at and threw herself into her next attack with everything she had. Literally. The short Zabrak kicked off the ground and hurled herself on to the creature's back while it chased Ruka with consecutive swipes, grabbing fistfuls of patchily plated fur and hauling herself up, dagger between her teeth. She wiggled up to its shoulders from its haunches and stabbed down into one forelimb, but it wasn't a lethal move; she still wanted to hamstring it, capture instead of put down.

The beast didn't care for that. It howled and bucked, dropping to roll Sera right off of it. The Arconan gasped as she was briefly crushed, weapon falling from her grip, and hadn't moved when the predator was back on its feet in a blink and went for the kill.

Ruka threw himself between them. The blow was so hard it spun him around and threw him over into a stand of knobby trees closeby. New stripes of pain lanced up and down his back all the way from his skull to his thigh.

He nearly wasn't fast enough to recover when all those many pounds of muscle sailed towards him. Sera's shout spurred him into movement, the Force thrumming in his limbs as he rolled away, grabbing his dropped saber. Once more he felt claw tips snagging and then ripping through his armor and skin, stinging in their wake. He went to spin up from his crouch, but his planted arm buckled and he stumbled.

"Ruka!" the Zabrak shouted again, and he looked up from staring at his traitorous limb just as she went flying past him, a bleached blur of desert wind. Her leg knifed out in mid-air, carried forward by all the momentum of her full-bodied running leap, and cracked wet and meaty and muted into the side of the panther's head, above its eye. The creature yelped and spat, reeling and swatting, dazed. Sera was small and quick enough to drop under its massive paw, slide through the sleek mud underneath its legs and underbelly, and pop back up at its rear. She twisted about like a dancer and grabbed at him. "Come on!"

The Sith bolted with her, sprinting side by side, splashing madly. It could have been minutes or seconds that they had before the beast recovered, but they ran. Ruka's longer legs and speed took him ahead of the Zabrak, and his eyes found a break in the landscape that looked unnatural. It was the Hot Labs, or the pit that was left of one of the enclosures.

Glancing at his partner, the Mirialan channeled power into his bloodstream once more and pushed on with a burst of preturnatal agility. He reached the sunken basement, saw no immediate threat at a quick scan, and turned back to fix his gaze on Sera in the distance. Though he didn't need to gesture to do so, he used one to guide his grip in a gentle snag, telekinetically lifting the Huntress off the ground and summoning her to him. She only loosed a small half-gasp, used to such antics from their training and brave as ever as she flew through the air and was carefully set down in the dark structure below. Ruka followed, leaping down and dropping like a stone for the floor, trusting in the Force; he'd leapt higher, fallen farther, practically flied.

He hit the ground, and his leg buckled like his arm had. The Sith abruptly met tiled duracrete all at once, black spots washing up through his skull as it bounced against the floor.

The man cried out, as much from the dizzying rush of nausea that followed and pounded like a pulse in his head as from a sudden and swelling numbness. The feeling ate at his arm, his leg, his back. The slow and persistent burn of the pain from the slashes had turned into insects swarming under his skin somewhere along the way without his noticing.

"Ru! Are you okay?" Sera was at his side in an instant, grasping his temples between her calloused hunter's hands. Her bright blue eyes were wide, and he hated, hated the distress in them, knowing he'd caused it and knowing it was only about to get worse. Even still she smiled reassuringly for him, bright and unbending. "Give me a minute, I can try to heal you. I will heal you. Promise!"

"I—" he stuttered, and looked down at his hand. He'd meant to grab hers, to squeeze and reassure. His arm was shaking when he lifted it. He tried to curl his fingers and nothing happened. "I— Sera, I-I c-can't feel my hand. I can't feel my hand."

Their eyes met again. Her smile was slipping. A serious scowl overtook her face, and she squinted in the dim, grabbing his arm to look over the tears in it. He hissed, and her motions gentled with a wince and apology.

Stretching the limb out pulled at cuts there and especially those across his shoulders, and he bit down until his jaw ached, tasting. Now that they weren't actively dodging the damn beast, he was paying attention to the pain.

Sera made a frustrated, high noise and said something in Zabraki he thought was familiar enough to be a curse. She got up and moved around him, cursing again at his back. He felt slim fingers peeling away ruined cloth for a better look, and turned to examining his bicep for whatever had her so upset.

The scratches weren't so deep that they'd crippled him, he didn't think, despite that fear being solid and hot in his throat at the way his fingers refused to twitch. It felt like there was an itch too far down under his skin for him to scratch. The wounds were raw and dirty with debris and swamp water but not bleeding freely. They'd puffed up at the edges, whitish and foamy.

"I'm fine. Look, I'm barely bleeding," Ruka insisted, and grit his teeth while he stood, testing his weight on his legs. The muscles in one jumped, but he didn't trip again. A quick series of steps showed most everything still working. "It just— it just hurts a little. We need to keep moving. That thing is probably right behind us."

"Katka!" Sera snapped, stepping back in front of him to plant a hand on his chest. "That's bad, Ru. Venom does that. Clots to keep the poison in. Just like a sand caulker's sting. We have to get you help."

"Where?" Ruka challenged. Sera's chin jutted out as she stared him down, but he could tell she was as stumped by the question as he was. "We're stuck out here with that thing and anything else around. We need to— you need to get back to the ship—"

She didn't let him finish. "I'm not leaving you. We face this together. Together. Let me try healing it first. Alaisy did that once, and Atty too, right? I think it's possible. Just let me try! Then we can plan for worse."

"...alright," the Mirialan relented, and Sera nodded at him, reaching out again.

There was no sound. No scrabble. No warning, save for the sudden scream of senses. The Zabrak hissed too. They dove for each other, both trying to protect, and ended up in a pathetic tangle just as the sand-panther landed right on top of them.

Lightning flashed, somewhere outside the habitat. Thunder followed, rumbling through the rain.

Teeth and claws. Confusion, senses lost in a whirl as she collided with Ruka, her head impacted metal, something landed on top of her. Pain, like lightning coursing through the nerves, searing hot and freezing cold, an agony that wiped out all rational thought. Anger, burning anger, at the thing that was attacking them, that had hurt her friend, that she hadn’t sensed, until it was too damned late. Fear. Fear for Ruka. Fear that she had failed him, again. Failed him for the last time.

Sera was lost in the whirl of limbs. Her instinct had been to protect her friend, and that had thrown her right into him as he tried to do the same. Arrows scattered from her quiver, and she went down. For a moment, she was fighting against Ruka, pushing the damned fool down before he threw himself into the damned panther’s jaws. Then, it was there, on top of both of them, but the confusion did it no favors either. Instead of pinning her with its paws, scythe-like claws outstretched, the creature slipped as one of the Mirialan’s legs kicked under its left forepaw, knocking it off balance. That, of course, meant that its full weight flopped down on top of both of them, Sera over Ruka, and the panther over them both.

Well...at least they were in it together.

Enormous jaws snapped centimeters away from Sera’s face as the panther’s massive weight smothered her, thick fur matted with mud and water from the bog. Her hands were free, but empty. She’d put her dagger down to check on Ru, and now there was no way to reach for her belt, to get either of them free. Agony bloomed in her chest, ribs straining against the weight, the contusion on her head pounding.

The jaws descended again. She’d seen this before. A predator on Iridonia, fangs ripping the life blood from its prey’s throat. The fearful bleat as breath was choked away, the screech of pain and forlorn helplessness as they twitched their last.

Sera’s eyes flitted to the side. To where her arrows had scattered. Up, to where one of her feathered shafts was wedged deep into the flesh and muscle of the panther’s shoulder.

They were not prey.

The Zabrak’s left hand snatched one of the arrows from the ground, and drove it point-up into the panther’s jaws as it lashed toward her throat. She had meant to drive it straight through the roof of the thing’s mouth, into the brain beyond. She just didn’t frakking care about taking it in alive anymore, not with venom coursing through Ruka’s veins. Unfortunately, she didn’t get the chance. The panther’s jaws snapped down on the shaft, wood and metal splintering, ripping into soft gums and the sinew of it’s jaws. One long fang caught her hand as it pulled back, ripping through the flesh between her thumb and forefinger, hot blood spraying. It mixed with that of the panther, which recoiled away from the bite of the broken arrow.

It gave them room. Enough room for Sera to roll off of Ruka. Enough room for Ruka’s unwounded left arm to snap outward, a blur of green and violet. Ruka lashed out with his amethyst kukri, stabbing the hooked point of the weapon through the top of the panther’s left paw, parting hide and flesh, hardened crystal piercing into the floor below.

The creature shrieked, it’s two-toned screech impossibly loud, blood and saliva spattering across them both. Sera felt its mind, the animalistic agony and shock. It only grew worse when the panther ripped it’s paw free, blood spattering across the hot lab’s metal flooring. The kriffing thing pulled away from them, momentary doubt in its mind.

The reprieve wouldn’t last for long. Sera growled through her teeth, searching for options, before dropping and pulling the Mirialan up. He didn’t resist, didn’t give her any kark about leaving him behind, thank the ancestors. She wouldn’t have listened. Instead, he just gave a half smothered whimper of pain as she disturbed the horrible rents down his back and shoulders. Ribbons of bloody green skin remained on the floor behind him. She could feel the agony, rolling off of him in waves. It was worse than her own injuries. Worse than anything. She pulled his uninjured arm around her shoulders, cringing as she felt his blood soak into her cloak, a ribbon of flesh curling from the limb that had been shredded. The venom had stopped the worst of his bleeding. She remembered something about a paralytic, vaguely. Ancestors, why hadn’t she stopped just to read a little bit more? How could she have been so stupid?

The Zabrak reached out to the Force, feeling it as it swelled through her lower musculature, giving her the strength to half-drag, half-walk her wounded friend along in an agonizingly slow three-legged gait. They had landed in some kind of faux biosphere, half crushed and flooded by the swamp, most of the synthetic soil washed away to lay bare the hard, steel floors. The original housing for the panther, maybe, judging by the snarl of trees and vines. Instead of plunging deeper into the environment, Sera turned, ducking into the nearest hallway.

They plunged into a false, crimson twilight. Whatever was keeping the hot labs powered had failed, or had long been faltering. A strip of red emergency lighting was all that kept the darkness at bay...and those were failing as well. Rhythmically, as the wounded duo limped down the corridor deeper into the labs, the lights would fade to black, smothering them in darkness, before blinking back to life a few moments later. The on-off cycle was accompanied by the clank of auto-doors slamming open and shut as the brief provision of electrical current brought temporary life to their circuits and wires once more. She could count the beats. Ten seconds of light, muted and bloody. Ten seconds of darkness.

Ten seconds of light. Ten seconds of dark. Light, dark, light, dark. It was as if...the hot labs were alive, a great beast dying slowly as its synthetic heartbeat died away.

More prey, fallen victim to the swamp, and the creatures that lurked within.

They would not be joining it. Together, they would fight through.

“We need...need to pierce the hide,” the Zabrak panted as they turned another corner, pushing deeper into the labs. The corridors were flooded, an inch or two of water splashing underfoot as they moved. She held her saber before them, the glowing yellow blade providing light when the dark fell. Ruka had tried with his free right hand, but it just wouldn’t obey. It shook and quaked, chartreuse fingers quivering, but the beast’s venom had worked quickly. Even activating his armor’s bacta injector had proven fruitless; it closed the worst of his wounds, partially, but did nothing for the poison. He just got heavier and heavier across her shoulders as his legs slowly numbed, unable to support his own weight.

“Somethin’...with the hide…” Ruka noted, lavender eyes blinking heavily. He gave Sera’s shoulder a squeeze with his good hand, trying his best to reassure her, even when she could feel his worry, his pain. “Disperses the energy...I think...why the saber just burned...instead of slicing. Think...think our blades will be enough, Ra’tueria?” He nodded weakly towards the shortsword sheathed over his back and the dagger at his hip. Sera shrugged in reply, blue eyes squinting as darkness fell once again.

“They will be,” she assured him, turning another corner. She was moving mostly on instinct now, turning corners without thought, willing the Force to guide them to an exit, back to the swamp. Ahead, the corridor’s low light revealed a security door, opening and closing as the power pulsed on and off. She leaned Ruka up against the wall next to it, taking a breather while it was shut. Her mind wandered back to the encounter. Blood, frothing from the creature’s wounds, and the inside of its mouth. “It’s...just the hide that’s stopping us. Inside, it’s...normal. Just an animal. If we can get something...something past the hide…”

“...isn’t that what we’re trying, Sera?”

“...kinda? Nothing wrong with trying again, just...a little differently.”

Ruka chuckled at that, a sound that trailed into a low moan that he tried to suppress. They were silent for a long moment, her head on his shoulder, slowly rising through his labored breath. Then, the lights blinked off, and the door to their right slid open.

The panther was there.

Neither of them saw it. Neither of them heard it. The damned thing didn’t make even a whisper. They felt it instead. A murderous, pained rage directly before them, hidden in the dark. Clever girl.

All three of them moved at once. Even ripped to bloody shreds, filth and venom pumped through his veins, Ruka’s arm was a blur, his lightsaber flying into the air, igniting with a twitch of his wrist. He nodded to Sera, and she felt his intent, what he wanted from her. The Zabrak immediately loosened her grip on her own saber.The golden blade pulled from her grasp on its own volition, joining the blue glow of her friend’s, swirling in a deadly dance.

Yellow and sapphire glows illuminated the panther as it pounced, sparking and burning against the mud-splashed hide, searing two, glowing channels into the flank. Sera used the blades as targets, her hand ripping two small throwing knives from her belt. She loosed them in a smooth, underhanded throw, and they struck home just beside where the sabers had burned, digging into flesh and sinew. But, they didn’t slow the panther in the slightest as it pounced towards her, a blur of fur silhouetted by the blazing lightsabers.

She expected claws, ripping into her. Tooth and fang and venom. She was ready for that. Her Zabraki dagger in hand, trusty and sharp, her instincts primed. Instead, the panther’s flank slammed into her, knocking her backwards by virtue of sheer force and mass.

And then it rounded on Ruka.

Ruka, leaning limply against the corridor’s wall, rivulets of sweat and blood pouring down his face. Ruka, who was barely standing on his own. Ruka, who had fought so damned hard to protect her, to keep her safe, now struggling to pull his emerald dagger from its sheath.

Sera knew exactly what the panther was doing. It was something all predators did. It didn’t need them both. Only one. Together, they were dangerous. Alone, they were prey. So, it separated them out. Separated her from the one that had been wounded, weakened, prepared.

And Ruka felt relieved that it would take him, instead of her.

Not this time, Ancaro.

A low growl rose in the panther’s throat as it descended upon the Mirialan, a bloody froth foaming from its maw, dripping down matted fur. Sera matched it with one of her own, and thrust her bloody, ripped hand forward.

Her telekinetic grip seized Ruka by the scruff of his neck and yanked him backwards...directly through the doorway. It closed barely a moment later, circuits jolted as low, crimson light once again returned to the corridor. The sabers dropped in their assault. Without line of sight, he couldn’t keep them going.

That left Sera alone, a growl in her throat and dagger in her hand, dual hearts hammering as the panther slowly rounded on her.

Ten seconds of light.

Ten seconds alone.

Ten seconds to get to Ruka.

And then they would finish this.

Together.

Thunder rumbled, somewhere outside, and Sera lunged forward.

Nine seconds.

The panther braced, tracking her movement coming for it.

Eight seconds.

She slid across the ground, crouched low.

Seven seconds.

Its claws raked easily into her leathers, snagging, yanking, staggering her as they caught in layers of furs and straps. She choked and scrambled, knuckles white on her dagger.

She didn't need to kill it. She probably couldn't on her own if she tried. She just needed time to get to Ruka. Together, they could do this. Together, he had to be okay. He was just ten seconds away.

Six seconds.

Her armor tore, her throat bruised, and she felt the rounded outer curve of claws brushing over the knobs of her spine.

But it didn't matter.

She had room to move.

She wasn't lunging anymore, just falling forward.

Five seconds.

Her knees hit the floor, scraping. Her arm went up. Her dagger pressed in, half-bouncing off the elastic tension of sinew layered by fat and hide. Then, its tip broke the surface and all that tension released and it sunk as if sucked inside, warm and wet.

Four seconds.

She tensed her abdomen, her arm, her shoulder. She dragged. Down and back and in. Not through the stomach, or the heart, but closer to the haunches, tucked directly up under the right hind leg and slicing through the tendons.

The limb went out immediately, buckling and crumpling under its own weight like sticks burned down to empty black husks for a fire, collapsing in the breeze over the dunes. The panther followed, nearly crushing her under its bulk yet again.

Hamstrung.

Three seconds.

She kept her grip on her dagger through sheer force of will and shouldered out from under its rear as it scrabbled and yowled, stomping at her, panicked by its loss of mobility. Her chin banged and ground into the rubbled floor. Her bloodied hand ripped open wider when she used it to claw herself forward. Her shoulders screamed, like they were being pulled slowly from their sockets. Her fierce wiggling freed her battered hips.

Two seconds.

The panther snapped jaws at her, furious, spittle flying, just as she got one foot under her. She yanked the other free and stumbled, bright blue eyes locked on the door. Her leg caught. Pressure crushed at her ankle. She screamed and kept yanking, and her boot came off.

One second.

Sera plowed on, one bare foot slapping against tile, kicking off of it. She launched herself forward.

Red light flooded her vision. The door opened. Ruka laid on the other side. For a skip of her heartbeats, she thought him dead.

Then she saw him propping himself up against the wall where he'd dragged himself, just enough to leverage his head up, his good hand lifted.

Sera fell into him. The panther lurched after her. Ruka swung his fist out like a punch, and a telekinetic hammer-blow followed, blasting into the beast and sending it careening back down the red-washed hall and slamming into the end of its length back the way they'd come.

The lights went back out. The door closed again. Ten seconds had already passed when the previous had seemed like forever.

The Mirialan didn't wait. He twisted his raised fist, veins bulging under his eyes and forehead as he let out a wail of effort, and the awful sound of crumpling metal followed. The Huntress looked over her shoulder to see the doors pinching in on themselves at the seam, like foil. As they both breathed raggedly, the bloody light came back and the doors tried to reopen, but they were buckled and crumpled around each other at their lips. Machineworks in the mechanisms screeched, and something popped and sparked and shrieked somewhere in the paneling. Again the power went out, and it stopped. Again it came back on, and the doors screamed some more, but couldn't open. Sera smelled plastic and burning, faintly.

"Y-you…you!"

Ruka's voice recalled her attention now that the imminent threat was delayed. He was glaring at her, but it was a weak thing, and his expression was so clearly cracked open and worried that she didn't bother to argue. The Zabrak just hugged him fiercely instead. The man winced, and she winced back, all apologies.

"Sorry, sorry! I'm alright, see? It's okay. I told you, we're getting through this, together," she assured. "We are hunters. Not prey."

His gaze searched her a while more, lingering on her missing boot and torn chestplate, dun hides split around the shoulders, some laces sliced. She was bruising already, she knew; her pale sand skin showed everything. But rather than rebuke, the Mirialan just gave a tight nod.

"Need to...move," he grunted, a little low. "Get...get out of here. Some….mmmnwhere more...secure."

Sera glanced at the door. "Only way forward is through. Come on, here."

Their combined efforts got the shredded Sith back upright, but it was a near thing. Even with the Force strengthening their muscles, even with the will to fight that flowed through Sera and the unbending determination Ruka had to keep standing, the gifts of their Ancestors could only do so much. They followed the sound of thunder through the halls, turning here then there, chasing that rumble and praying for freedom as it grew louder, knowing it wasn't enough.

The venom was winning.

Ruka's bad arm hung limp and useless, flopping against his side, the coils of his still-attached skin bouncing like curls of multicolored ribbon. His other was barely functioning anymore. His legs dragged, then went out, and they both went down when Sera couldn't quite catch him.

"Sera—" Ruka tried, and she growled at him, hooking her arms under his armpits and heaving. She dragged him the last few feet into the next room, what seemed like it might have been a storage area for databanks. It didn't really matter, given it was now another part of the swamp, flooded and muddy and open. Intrepid fungi and mosses already grew on the machines. But that wasn't the important part. The important part was that the roof had been caved in — or maybe broken open from the inside — and the sky yawned above them, black and swirling. The flashes of lightning looked like hope.

"Look!" the Zabrak hissed, her exclamation smothered by breathlessness from her efforts. She hauled Ruka over to the driest patch available and propped him up against yet another wall, flopping down next to him as her legs quivered. She just needed a minute to catch her breath. "See, look, a way out! We've got this—"

His eyes were closed. His chest was still.

His eyes were closed.

His chest was still.

No.

No, no, no.

"RUKA!" Sera yelled in the man's face, and breathed again when there was a twitch behind his eyelids. "RUKA, WAKE UP!"

Her fists knotted in his robes, shaking, hands shaking, her hands, shaking him—

"Nnn…" the Mirialan groaned, and his eyelids peeled back open, wavering, drifting from focusing on her.

"Hey! Hey! Oi! Ruka! Focus. Stay awake, yeah? Focus, come on. Usredotatenc!"

Ruka's eyes rolled towards the sound, and he smiled. Or he tried to. His face wasn't quite holding the shape, and he'd gotten much paler.

"Smart girl," he told her, slurred nearly to nonsense. "Strong girl. My...little warrior…"

"Ancaro," she pleaded. "Stay. Awake!"

The Zabrak swung her arm back and brought it forward again, the slap clapping across his cheek. It was harder than she wanted to strike him right then, but she needed it to hurt. Ruka yelped, a wounded sound, but it seemed to wake him up a little.

"You have to stay awake. Ancaro, don't you give up on me now. Don't you dare. Don't you leave too!" she cried at him. She meant the words to be a shout, powerful and confident and commanding, like the leader she was supposed to be. They broke to pieces instead, in six different places, cracking when her voice did with pain. It wasn't an order; it was a hiccup. She was begging, because she'd already lost Koren and she couldn't lose her brother again, she couldn't. "What about Cora and Noga and Leda? You wouldn't leave them, never! D-don't leave t-t-them! If I-I'm not good enough then don't— don't l-leave them! Hey! Cora! Noga and Leda! Stay! Awake!"

"Quiet," Ruka snapped, then mumbled. "Qu... quit tha'...right...n...now. You. You are...enough. Y'enough, Ser." He wheezed, panting for each rasp of air. His eyes were so sunken, hazy but determined when they peered at her from under his fevered brow. "I pr'm...nnn...I promise I'm not...trying this t-time. I'm trying...t' live."

"How?" the Zabrak snapped, desperate and angry and scared. Her friend was dying. He needed medicine and help and she wasn't enough, even if he said so. She wasn't.

His calloused, scarred hand fumbled to cup her cheek, so gentle, thumb stuttering there to wipe away tears. He shushed a low croon, and it was so much like a lullaby on a cold Iridonian desert night, tucked against a different broad chest, that she had to close her eyes. His call made her open them again. "Sera...Serami, lookit...me." She did. His hand was wet with his blood, and it smeared a print on her face. "I...t-trust you, Sera. You...can do this. You...you can heal m-me, okay? We got...gotta try."

Serami. She knew that much. She had learned a word or two, just from listening to him, just like he'd learned a bit from her. He called her ra'tueria, little warrior. He called Qyreia and Eilen and Karran and Morra his. And now he'd called her his too.

He trusted her. He was relying on her.

Sera's jaw locked. Her bright eyes fixed on his fading ones. She thought of her Ancestors, of her brother, and Nitha, and the parents who had not loved her enough to stay. She thought of Ruka in front of her, who did. She thought of her clanmates, her new family. She thought of Ashla and Bogan, and of the rising sun of her tribe.

She could do this. They were not prey, and they weren't just hunters. They were light and dark too.

Thunder rumbled and lightning flashed. Their blood mixed where she clamped hands over the cuts in Ruka's arm and shoulder, scabbed over now from bacta, the spots where the infection had begun. On another world, in a different life, another time, there could have been sand, sun, incense and ink; she could have made him her kin truly, or he made her his. The words came to mind unbidden, ones she'd shared with Karran when he'd lost the last markers of his father, his clan.

Under the eyes of our ancestors, under the auspice of our tribes, we bond our honor together; in fallow and in famine, always; in hunt, and in harvest, always; in victory and defeat, courage and fear; in the hardest times, together we draw near; parted not by angered breath nor separated by death; our blood and ink, our honor — together.

"Together," the Zabrak promised, and smiled, pouring all of herself and her focus and will and hope into the Force, into her friend, guiding it to do what it needed to do. She could not fix all the damage, but the poison…

Ruka almost smiled back at her before his eyes rolled back and he went slack.

---

He's been here before.

"Do you know what 'ancaro' means, Ru?"

"...what?..."

"...It means guardian ..."

A double heartbeat. Pressed to his chest. Thump thump, thump thump.

He remembered that.

Thump thump, thump thump.

Years ago, when Noga was just past his first birthday, proud owner of a single budding tooth and horror now that he'd started to pull himself up for walking attempts. Leda was just a newborn, premature and pale and tiny. Her toes had been crooked and long on one foot, still were, her head small. She barely seemed to grow, and she had trouble breathing sometimes that the street clinic doc said was because of a hole in her heart. Said it was because of Mama drinking. Said she'd be lucky to live to the third month.

Thump thump, thump thump.

He'd held them both to his chest whenever he got a chance, slept that way. He'd thought, Noga and him were going to know her and love her as close as they could as long as they had with her. He'd spent two weeks nearly sleepless just laying there with their two heartbeats, choking back sobs so he wouldn't shake them awake, mourning while she was still alive. It felt like drowning dry.

Mama hadn't even held her once since the birth he'd delivered, and he wasn't inclined to let her either. She left them alone to it though, going out to her clubs, to dance to her own thudding beat. He had his.

Thump thump, thump thump.

Two heartbeats against his chest. Weak and strong. Struggling.

But Leda had lived, and he'd done what he had to to afford the surgery for the hole, and she'd lived and he got to know what it was like when their two heartbeats piled next to his at three and four, at eight and nine, at thirteen and twelve with Cora's right there too.

Thump thump, thump thump.

Two heartbeats.

He'd protect them.

The children.

Three heartbeats.

Cora.

Four, five, six.

Eilen, Karran, Qyreia.

Seven, eight.

Satsi and Turel.

Ten.

Sera.

Sera, in his arms. No, her arm around him. On him. Holding him close. Holding on to him. So few people had ever held on to him.

"Ra'tueria," he croaked, broken back open. A breath, wet, stuttering. His heart was a race running on nothing at all. But she was giving him more. He just had to hold on. Reach back. He clutched at that thought, clutched at her, palms slipping on her forearms, hers slipping on his. He reached out, and touched his mind to hers, his heart to hers, his soul, melded together — together, she said — in the Force.

He reached.

---

Sera tried.

Sweat dripped down her brow, pooling around her horns, parting in rivulets, itching at her scalp. She swayed in place, and more of her weight ended up pressed into Ruka and the wall behind him as she gave him more and more of her energy, as she offered the venom something else to burn. It was minutes. It was hours. She didn't bother trying to close all the many lacerations; instead she focused on purging the toxins.

And Ruka— Ruka wasn't leaving her this time. He wasn't trying to throw himself on his sword, or off a cliff, while she could do nothing but watch. He wasn't leaning limp against a wall, welcoming a panther's bite. He wasn't leaving her.

He was reaching out, hoping she would catch him. Trusting her to.

Sera reached back with two hearts and two hands and grabbed on with all that she had.

"Aaaaah!" All at once the Mirialan jerked upright, slackened muscles seizing now that they could coil again. They nearly headbutted one another. His breathing was labored and rough in great gasps. Sera's own was just as uneven, exhausted. "Kriff, kriff— ahhh. S-Sera...are you okay?"

"...fine," the Zabrak answered after a moment to wheeze, tipping her head up to beam at him. "You?"

"Been better," the Sith answered, gingerly testing his range of motion. Tiny warbles of pain escaped his throat with each movement, but he was moving again, even sluggish. "I still— everything's stiff. Numb but less. I...ahh, feels like...been run over." He lifted both hands in front of him, and both arms shook badly. His better hand curled and flexed. The other didn't. "It's enough. I can move, I can breathe, it's...enough. Thank you, Sera."

The Arconan wiped tiredly at her eyes, her face. She only ended up smearing more of their blood around. Ruka noticed.

"Get...ugh...here." Whimpering again, he reached behind himself and struggled to free a bacta canister from straps at his lower back, below the gladius. She reached to help. "For your hand."

"Your wounds need it too."

"One of us needs to be able to really fight. Fix...your hand. And your leg."

He nodded down at her bare foot when she blinked in surprise, glancing to see red scrapes, small holes from mauling teeth. Sera hadn't even realized the injury, so determined towards saving her friend. She opened the kit and shook out the three doses, keeping two and waving the last in his face, poking his nose with it. The Mirialan gave her a look but took the thing, and helped her slather the gel over her tattered hand and foot while she dabbed at the lesions on his leg ineffectively.

"I don't think that thing is dead," the Sith commented at length while they worked and the lightning kept flashing above, rain pounding through the wide-rent gap. They kept getting splashed, even in their partially sheltered spot. "Can you sense it?"

The Zabrak could. Stretching out her mind revealed her almost immediately, a seething, scared, hungry mass of agony and anger. It broke her hearts. But her hearts were also hardened for the hunt, knowing it was them or the panther, furious how the beast had nearly taken her friend away.

"Yeah. She's...still kicking. Somehow." She frowned. They'd given her a dozen different wounds between all their weapons and powers, and still. Part of her felt a deep, ancient respect for that. The sand-panther was truly a foe worthy of honor. The rest of her was horrified. "You were right, we should get back to the ship. Regroup. This isn't a hunt for two. We need a tribe."

They both looked around, back down the hall, then at another exit that went deeper somewhere into the complex, then to the open roof.

"I'll throw you, far as I can," Ruka mumbled, squinting up at the rain that would drown them if it could. He patted at the repulsor device on his waist. "You can wear this. The belt will let you land. Then you come back for me and—"

"—I'll pull you up!" Some excitement, hope, flickered back to life in her voice. She balled her fists, forgetting for a moment her fatigue and the ache of barely-closed wounds. "She won't be able to chase us now! She's stuck down here. I crippled her."

"You brilliant thing. Good job."

From there the pair worked as quickly as their battered and torn bodies allowed. Tears rolled down Ruka's cheeks when he twisted his back enough for them to get his belt off, but neither of them said anything about it. Once Sera was secure and the repulsorlift generators were humming, the Sith sent her soaring in a telekinetic grip, tossed as if by a god's hand. The Zabrak felt that grip disappear as soon as she was over the lip of the roof, out of his sight, but it was enough. She sailed a little farther on her momentum and felt the yank and lurch as the belt did its work before she slammed into the swamp.

Running back, Sera found Ruka right where she'd left him, looking up at her, waiting faithfully. Her own telekinetic hold was a little bit clumsier, but she guided him up to her with both her hands, and he met the ground without issue. She nearly tackled him in another hug of relief, but remembered better this time.

"I'll scout us a path," the Huntress volunteered, searching the horizon. The storm beat down on them, washing away blood and dirt and, unfortunately, the bacta too. The wind roared in their ears. It was so dark, broken only by the glare of lightning fracturing the sky. "Maybe I could find some herbs too. Something to chew for a boost, for strength."

"I don't know about eating random plants…" Ruka began to protest, as he always did about imbibing seemingly anything from drinks to the flora some of their more adventurous or alchemical fellows offered, but relented, "but alright. If you think it'll help."

Sera nodded, confident, and drew her Zabraki dagger once more. Ruka, similarly, took out his emerald one.

"Stay here, mister. I'll be back." Worry lingered in her tone. The Mirialan's face softened.

"I'll be here," he replied. "If you want...well. We could bond. I don't want it to distract you, but if I'm just waiting here, I can maintain it."

That offer set something alight in the Zabrak's gut and hearts. Her bonds were her everything, and she gave them freely, to all her friends, happy to connect their minds; but Ruka was hesitant, careful, keeping his guard close. She hadn't known him to do so with anyone but his husband if it wasn't life or death.

"Yeah!" she agreed, and felt their souls twine again as Ruka reached out with his mind and she reached back. Their hearts synced. Their breathing. The colors they saw and the truths they sung. Her toothy grin nearly split her face. The Mirialan stayed relatively still on the ground, posed for meditation, dagger on his knee. He peeked up at her.

"Go on, then. We're still in danger here."

"We're together," Sera corrected, and turned to prowl into the dark and dank, eyes ever-roving with Ruka's presence a steady thing under her skin. She felt better about physically separating this way. Bonded in a battlemind, they weren't alone.

It was happening. Together, they would get through this after all.

---

Ruka watched Sera fade into the morass of Uskil's tempest and tried not to sigh. He was swallowing dread every few seconds, clinging on to relief, telling himself she would be okay, that they would both be. That he could keep her safe, and still go home to his family.

He thumbed his weapon, flexing the hand over and over just to reassure that that one, at least, he could use. Move. Feel. The complete helplessness, frozen and suffocating slowly in his own body, was gone. It was fine. He was fine. They'd be fine. Fine, fine, fine. He clenched his eyes shut and told himself to stay calm. Connected, Sera would be able to feel now how very much he wasn't.

They weren't out of peril yet, but they were safe from the damned mutant beast. The two of them had only made it down into the Hot Labs thanks to the Force, and the panther only because it had landed on them. Falling in was easy. But getting out? There was no way. That pit had been far too deep, the ceiling far too high. Even if it wasn't crippled like Sera said, there was no way the thing could have made that jump, ever. Not out of the first room and not out of the one they'd escaped from. No way, ever.

...ever. No way it could have made that jump.

It occurred to him, all at once—

The broken roof wasn't how the panther had gotten out the first time.

Ruka opened his eyes.

Pale feline pupils stared back at him, an inch away. Wet, hot breath huffed across his face.

Sera, he thought through their link, before lightning flashed and it lunged.

Light. Pure, white light, not the bloody, dull glow that had guided them through the labs, flashing sporadically as the bolt of lightning cracked down.

Thunder. Rumbling in the distance, a warning, animalistic growl of the untamed wild, of untold power.

Rain poured down, and the wind howled, a rising chorus of mournful, screaming voices, agonized souls.

Claws. It had been the claws that crippled him, the damned, frangin’ animal. Claws curved like scythes, gleaming at their needle points, designed by millions of years of adaptation and evolution to rip prey to shreds, to paralyze them with venom, to leave them gasping and weak and mewling when the kill came.

But he was not prey. Though Ruka was loath to use them...he had claws too. This time, he wouldn’t hesitate. This time, he was going to fight, going to live. He had promised.

He felt the lunge coming before it happened, twitching at the warning that screamed into his mind. When the panther lashed forward, froth-flicked jaws gaping wide for his throat, Ruka rolled backwards. Fangs snapped on empty air, and the panther pounced awkwardly, ripped and bloodied paws scrambling to try and pin the Mirialan underneath it. It didn’t get the chance.

Ruka could see where it was unbalanced, one hind leg trailing uselessly behind it. Hamstrung. He gave a silent prayer of thanks for his horned friend, her presence warming the back of his mind. Then, he lashed out with one leg, driving a kick into the fore paw that he had shredded with his kukri, only a few minutes before. Simultaneously, the Mirialan whipped his emerald dagger up and drove the crystalline blade into the thick sinew of the creature’s shoulder, blood jetting from the new wound.

The panther howled in renewed agony, stumbling as the paw was kicked out from under it. Ruka took the chance, teeth gritting as he pulled from the Force, channeling it into the straining, bunching musculature of his one good arm. Using his dagger as a lever, he pushed with all he had, forcing the panther down and rolling it onto its back. He went with it, legs locked around its barrel-chest. Tormentous pain flickered across his back and shredded arm, peels of bloody flesh pulling free as he moved

He only had a few moments, precious, precious seconds. Relinquishing the grip on the dagger buried in the creature’s shoulder, Ruka flicked his hand, and the Force followed his gesture. A telekinetic grip closed over the hilt of the sapphire blade strapped over his back, pulling it from the sheath with a ringing hiss. The panther matched it, flailing wildly beneath the Mirialan, pale eyes wide and desperate. A growl of pain ripped from its throat, driven by the terrible, animal fear of a predator on the edge of death.

Ruka jerked his hand downard, and the blade followed. Tempered crystal drove point-down into the center of the panther’s chest, where the hide was thickest. Where the heart was. Sera’s voice rang in his mind, as warm as the song of her bond.

Pierce the hide.

The blade pushed in. An inch. Two. An opening, a chink in the armor. If he could just get something inside, something more than the blade. Something to truly end it.

Ruka reached for his saber...and it wasn’t there. It lay back in the hotlabs, abandoned.

He hesitated. That was all it needed. Claws snatched him from behind. The panther’s one good hind paw lashed out, piercing armor and cloth, curling into his hip, before tossing the Mirialan like a ragdoll. Flesh parted at their tip, muscle and skin tearing into ribbons as it kicked him off. Ruka landed on a half-rotten stump, wood crumpling beneath his bloodied mass as he came down.

Pain. Pain from his shoulders, where strips of his flesh had sloughed away as he landed. Pain from his arm, twisted awkwardly beneath him. Pain from his leg, where new curls of torn derma hung free over his ruined armor.

The panther pushed itself up once again, rising with a ragged, shuddering groan. It turned, jaws closing around his emerald dagger, ripping it free from its shoulder was a low howl. The sapphire blade pulled away on its own, dark ichor dripping from the wound.

It limped towards him, crippled leg dragging, bloody slobber hanging from its jaws. Ruka tried to stir. He tried to stand, to struggle, to reach out..ut, it just...hurt so much. To move. To fight. It was torture, and he didn’t know if he could do it anymore.

But he tried. He tried.

Because he had promised. He had promised her.

Sera.

Lightning flashed. Thunder rumbled.

And she was there, a screaming blur in the air, her voice ripping in a howl of fury. The panther turned at the last moment, rearing as Sera slammed directly into its chest. Far less than half of the creature’s mass, the energy of her impact was driven by Force-augmented speed, speed that had sent her flying through the swamp as she ran back to her friend.

Ruka could feel her, through their bond, their meld in the Force. His rhythm, the strength of his battle meditation, was a steady, plodding thing. A march, slow and inexorable, pushing without cessation. Sera’s was a song. A voice rising on the wind, filled with a promise, and a powerful, unceasing warmth. She danced forward, pushing the creature back, away from him, putting herself between the panther and her friend.

A paw swept for her head, and she ducked under it. Jaws snatched for her wrist, and she spun to the side, pirouetting on one foot. The Zabrak screamed again, and pressed forward as the creature reared back, clambering over it. Something flashed in the air, a silvery streak of metal...and she drove her dagger home, right into the wound left by Ruka’s sapphire blade.

Two inches of steel drove through the flesh. Then three, as Sera pushed on the grip, four and five as she drove it forward, six, seven, and eight as she pounded the pommel with her ruined, bloody hand.

Brilliant. Bright. So brave. So unafraid.

Too close.

The dagger wasn’t enough, and Sera had over committed to it. This time, the panther’s bloodied paw caught her as she tried to dance backwards, slamming directly into the Zabrak’s face. Her nose smashed at the force of the blow, and Sera was thrown backwards, stumbling onto her back.

He could see her eyes, brilliant blue, blinking up at the panther as it loomed over her. She smiled at it, a toothy grin spreading over her face as its jaws descended. Her dagger was pressed into its chest. Through its hide.

The rain poured down, mixing with the tears that streaked down Ruka’s face. The wind’s howl matched his own. Mournful and furious.

He reached out with his one good hand, bruised chartreuse fingers streaked with blood.

Ancaro.

Guardian.

Brother.

Sera, grinning at him through the rain and wet, water dripping down her face.

Sera, her expression so serious, so sure as she explained to him what she had told Karran. About their trip to Iridonia, About how she had missed him.

Sera, her arms around his dropping shoulder, her face pressed into the hollow of his neck, sobbing as she begged him to stay with her.

Two heartbeats, pressed against his.

Noga, tottering on awkward legs. Then running, dashing, an unstoppable force that wailed and glowered and grinned in equal measure. Slowly growing. Slowly smiling.

Leda, so small. So horribly weak. And so bright. Growing. Changing. Living. Learning.

Cora, as warm as the sun. His sun, the light to every one of his shadows, the second half to his soul, always.

Karran’s stoic affection, Qyreia’s coy smirk, and Eilen’s shy grin.

Every smile. Every frown. Every bubbling laugh, and choked back sob, every scream of triumph and anguish. The song in the back of his mind, rising on the wind of his heart.

Ruka kept them all. Every single moment. Now, he reached out to them...and they reached back. They gave power. Unlimited power.

Unlimited passion.

The Force set him free.

Lightning exploded through the rain...but not from the clouds. Pure, unadulterated energy crackled from Ruka’s outstretched fingers, the unfiltered strength of the storm, of the wicked darkness within him, all of his love outpoured. It flashed, a blinding, pure white cutting through the dreary half-twilight of the storm. Raindrops evaporated instantly in mid-air.

It crackled forward, energy roiling off of the panther’s hide, dispersing. Then...the bolt connected to the dagger in the creature’s chest, and grounded into it. Every bolt and flicker gravitated to the solid-forged shard of metal. It hissed, the leather bound around the handle bubbling and bursting off in a millisecond as the metal flash-heated to a white-hot state.

The blade was a conduit. A wire, channeling all of the heat and energy of the lightning, all of the power that Ruka had to offer...directly through the panther’s hide, into its chest. The creature quivered, deadened muscles straightening unnaturally, blood boiling and bursting beneath its skin. The eyes popped and burned out, twin columns of smoke rising.

Ruka’s hand dropped, and the lightning died. Thankfully...the panther had as well, flopping fitfully as it fell to the earth. The Mirilian’s eyes shut tight, a small grin creeping across his face as he heard Sera scramble to her feet, splashing through the mud of the swamp to return to him. He felt her song, still. And soon, he felt her arms around him. Her hearts pressed against his.

“It’s...gonna be alright, Serami.”

And for once, he truly knew that it was true.