On the fringes of the Outer Rim territories and famous as the one-time location of the Rebel Alliance, Hoth is a frigid world marred with fissures created from the tidal pull of Hoth’s three moons. Blanketed in a frozen ocean, massive oceanic currents beneath the southern hemisphere are the cause of constant seismic activities that result in a constantly shifting landscape of tunnels and caves.

Buried into the side of a fissure reaching hundreds of meters into the core of the planet is a network of tunnels leading into a cave. Its sole entrance is suspended within the wall of the fissure, requiring one to rappel down the dangerous crevasse and into the tunnels; one small miscalculation could send explorers descending the rest of the unmeasured height deep within the planet’s core.

Insulated under several hundred meters of ice in all directions, the cave is protected against the gale force winds and the intense snowstorms that sweep along the planet’s surface. As a result, the cave is warmer than most of Hoth’s unforgiving cold with melting icicles dangling precariously overhead. In turn, this allows for more life to grow in addition to being a promising habitat for the hulking Wampas that have been trapped this far below the surface. Beginning to thaw, it is obvious that this cave will eventually fall victim to seismic activity to disappear into the sheets of ice that surround it. Illuminating the cave’s interior with a dull blue glow, a luminous form of lichen has taken up residence among the bones of the creatures unfortunate enough to be trapped here.

Caution must be exercised if one is to navigate the slippery slopes of the cave as melted icicles drip onto the cavern’s floor surface. In one corner of the cave, the ocean water has accumulated to form a large pool, providing sustenance to the rare lumni-spice growing within the crystalline complex, never to see the blue-white sun.

She wasn’t supposed to be on this planet; she wasn’t supposed to be on any planet, really. The lack of vibrations beneath her feet signifying the active hum of a ship’s reactor, the faint metallic scent of electronics and durasteel, the hustle and bustle of the bridge crew carrying out their standard duties: it was all gone and replaced with nothing. Absolute silence in an environment mostly devoid of life. This was foreign to her.

Far above, the cones of ice that dared her to walk under them dripped rhythmically, as if creating their own sad song. Below, sheets of ice were covered sporadically with thick frost. Only blackness stared back, elaborating the deadly fall that would ensue if something shattered the frail flooring. Nothing here could be trusted, and she wondered why she was even summoned to such a place to begin with.

“Ah, Arcy. I sensed you were near,” echoed a familiar voice from further in the cavern.

Atyiru, of course she would be here already, the Admiral thought from the entrance of the chamber.

“You can follow my steps there in the frost. They’re safe.”

Arcia looked to the ground once again to see a line of footfalls in the ice flakes, leading towards one side of the cave. Keeping close to the edge, smart. The ice is thickest there… Cortel thought to herself, taking a breath before following her Consul’s footsteps precisely. Meeting a Force User privately in such a desolate and far flung place had put the Human on edge, and not knowing the reason for the summons put her tactical mind into overdrive. As she rounded one of the smooth corners of the room, her view of the cavern grew, and she noticed her Consul sitting atop a stacked and sculpted pile of ice.

Cortel frowned. “Did you make a throne out of ice, m’lady?”

“Of course I did! You were taking too long and I was bored,” Atyiru stated with a hint of pout.

Arcia’s frown immediately transitioned into a full fledged scowl and she turned her back. “Will you ever cease to be so childish?”

Arcona’s Consul huffed her resentment. “Well someone has to be, with you running around all stuck up all the time!”

The Admiral narrowed her eyes and brushed off the attack on her demeanor, taking cautious steps in the immediate vicinity to Atyiru’s new ‘throne.’ It was true, most of the Clan and the soldiers in the fleet saw Arcia as a cold hearted, uncaring woman - they even named her the “Ice Witch” - but all of her actions had reasons. If she wasn’t so strict, lives would be lost under her command. The uniformed woman took a breath and turned to face the Consul, mouth half open in preparation to speak, but froze when she turned to see Atyiru standing directly in front of her.

“Now, I am sure you are wondering why I summoned you here. You wonder why I’ve always trusted you, I know this. You see...well it’s very complicated, really… but then again, it’s quite simple.”

“You’re speaking in circles, Atyiru. If you are going to waste my time...” Arcia stated bluntly, using the Miraluka’s first name as they were away from public ear.

“Well you see, Destri…” the blood flowing through Arcia’s veins grew as cold as the cavern around her at the use of her birth name, which was a secret heavily guarded from the Brotherhood, including the Consul before her. “There’s a good reason why I chose you as my second.”

From the look on Cortel’s face, Atyiru knew her words shocked. Her lips seemed to curl with devious satisfaction, “What is it? Confused that I know you were born Destri Corden? Born on New Tython, took on the identity of a fallen Arconan soldier and rose up through our ranks under the name Arcia Cortel? There is a lot you have to learn if you are going to--”

“Enough!” Cortel hissed as she drew her .48 Enforcer and aimed directly for the Miraluka’s throat.

She couldn’t bear to listen as the Consul recounted her life. Yet, Atyiru did not flinch or attempt to move out of the way. Instead, she stood perfectly still with the barrel of the slugthrower nearly pressed against her. Arcia couldn’t contain the emotions that swelled up in her, causing her once calm, indomitable composure to shatter; the Admiral was absolutely terrified.

Arcia’s hand shook, causing her gun to rattle when she sensed something was off, as if someone were gazing into her soul. Gritting her teeth, she attempted to clear her mind of any thought and regain her cool, but the way Atyiru’s eyebrows slanted outward proved that she had failed. If the blindfolded woman had eyes, they would have been filled with sorrow.

“Get out of my head, Jedi,” Arcia spat. “You will NOT destroy all I’ve worked for! I won’t allow it!”

“Who do you--” Atyiru began. Again she was cut off, this time by a sudden rumbling beneath her feet.

What started as a crack grew, splitting the ground between the two women. The world broke apart beneath them. The ice under Atyiru heaved up, while Arcia sank further into the blackness below. With a shriek, the Miraluka toppled forward, narrowly passing over the gap. Panicking, the Admiral leapt backwards and fired a single shot from her slugthrower. The sound reverberated across the ice chamber. The solid round slammed into Atyiru’s left shoulder, spinning her around and sent her to the icy ground.

She came at me, I had to defend myself! Cortel screamed internally in a vain attempt to justify herself. The situation was beginning to get the best of her.

The rumbling gave way to a dull vibration. She could hear Atyiru groan as the Consul pushed herself up to her knees, then her feet. “Now, now. That wasn’t very nice, Destri.”

“Stop calling me that!” Cortel spat back, raising her slugthrower again.

Again she fired, sending another .48 round towards the blindfolded woman. This time, the Consul knew the shot was coming. Her dominant hand went up. The projectile crashed against an invisible wall and ricocheted into the dark depths of the cave. With a sneer, Arcia kept her weapon trained on the other woman. She could not afford to let her guard down.

The Admiral lined up a follow up shot. Before she pulled the trigger, another massive tremor rocked the cave. This time, she lost her footing and slid back into the ice wall behind her. The impact ripped the air from her lungs, causing her to prematurely pull the trigger. The slug shot blindly through the air, embedding itself in the ice to Atyiru’s left. With a growl, the Human pushed herself back up. She presented her Consul with a glare as cold as the ice surrounding them.

“You Force Users are all the same. I’m to be disposed of, aren’t I?” Arcia left the question hanging. She leveled her pistol with Atyiru’s head, her knuckles white around the grip.

She waited for an answer.

A bell peal of pain-tinged laughter answered her.

Her grip on her pistol spasmed, heartbeat galloping in her chest so hard that it felt like her ribs would crack. She clenched her hands so tightly that her joints cracked.

Arcia wasn’t even a half-breath from pulling the trigger when Atyiru gave a strained smile and shook her head. “Ashla and Bogan, you are an absolute bumblefluff, Destri.”

“Stop calling me that,” the Admiral hissed, feeling another tremor under her feet. It wasn’t at all like the vibrating of deck plates and ship hulls that she lived and breathed, and each shake rattled her raw nerves even more.

“Oh, shush. You’ve got one shot left in there. You’d best be very sure of where you want to put it.”

“Or what?” spat the trembling Human woman.

“Or nothing, save a wasted bullet. Look, I just wanted to have a talk, Destri—”

“I said STOP!”

A sharp crack split the frigid air, not a bullet, but the ice beneath their feet. Arcia felt it in her bones more than she heard it, a terrible shockwave of sound and pressure that stopped her heart and wracked her marrow as the frozen ground rent itself apart at the seams. The glacier heaved, ripping her pistol from her hands and off her feet, throwing her across the sheer, crystalline floor that split open around her.

Reality upended and inverted, over and over, tossing her body like a child’s toy. She hit the ice twice, three times, pain blossoming in countless places, and then—.

The ground disappeared underneath her.

Her stomach lurched in the half-heartbeat of weightlessness she knew, and then she was falling, a scream ripped from her throat as gravity caught her and dragged her down into absolute blackness.

She thought she heard another scream, thought she felt a hand clamping down around her flailing arm, and then something warm wrapping itself around her, spinning her about. Her blown-wide cybernetic eyes caught a last glimpse of the cavern’s ceiling lit by weak lich-light, far above through a crack in the world, and then there was a vague sensation of impact.

Then, darkness.

=x=

Consciousness came slow, and pain came fast.

Arcia blinked open her eyes to a cobalt-tinged gloam, barely able to make out the pale lines of her hand crumpled in front of her nose. Her whole body throbbed and ached, and stabbing agony shot down her spine when she gasped in a short, sharp breath. Her dim vision swam at the pain, and for a moment her mind faded back into murkiness before it resurfaced.

Her thoughts crawled. What...where...ow...I…

And then they clicked, like bullet in a barrel.

I’m alive. How am I alive? The fall. I fell, we fell? Atyiru. She knows. She— The cave collapsed and we fell and—.

“A...ar…” a voice croaked underneath her.

Arcia jerked, sucking in a startled breath, and immediately regretted it as the pain came back double-time, muscles and bones all over pulsing.

“Ar...cia...yo...okay?” came another question, and this time the Human felt the ‘ground’ rise under her cheek at the speaker’s wheeze. She realized right then that there was a body below her, soft curves and strong lines, and half-pushed herself up on numb arms, scrambling backwards.

“Atyiru,” the Admiral said, spying the white lines of braid and robes and squinting at the Consul where she laid prone on the icy floor, limbs splayed awkwardly.

More pieces clicked in her quicksilver mind: an earthquake collapsed the cavern. I fell down a fissure. And she...dove after me? Shielded me? Saved me.

The Miraluka did not respond, just panted shallowly where she lay. Arcia’s neck prickled, and she watched as the other woman gave a pained sigh, silver brows furrowed deeply.

Long minutes ticked by, making her anxious. She eventually asked again, “Atyiru?”

“Just going about...not dying...my apologies,” Atyiru replied slowly, shifting to painstakingly sit upright. She wrapped one arm around her middle while the other hung limp at her side. “Are you okay? I spared some energy to heal yo—”

“I’m...I’m fine,” Arcia snapped, drawing back a little further and standing despite the knifing sensation of what was surely a cracked rib in her chest. The crevice they’d landed in was wide but short, quickly turning into a cleft to narrow to fit more than a knife blade through, as far as she could see by the vegetation’s dismal glow. The fissure must’ve closed up behind us as the quake progressed. She was not familiar with much in the way of geological behaviors, but it was an easy enough inference.

“Are you...going to keep...acting all hostile and giving me kark...or are you going be nice and help me...find a way...out of here?” Atyiru asked, some irritation leaking into the Miraluka’s ever-cheery tone.

“Oh, don’t think I can’t do both, Jedi. I am quite the multitasker.”

Unexpectedly — or, perhaps, predictably — the Consul laughed, although it quickly cut off in a groan. “Ow, ow, kark that’s sore.”

“Our injuries will be the least of our worries soon,” Arcia stated, wrestling all her lingering panic and fury and imagining jettisoning it from a mental airlock. She had a task at hand, and she clung to it as hard as beskar, anchoring herself in it. Her expression smoothed even as her brow wrinkled in alacritous thought, sharp eyes flickering around. “I’m stuck down here alone, thanks to you and all your absurd secrecy. Unless there is some alternate air source, we’ll suffocate. And, even if there is air, we’ll freeze to death without an escape route.”

“Hey, look at the bright...side. You’re not alone! You’ve got me.”

“And the good news just keeps coming!”

“What do you know, you can act like a witch and plan at the same time. Praise my gods”

Arcia glared at the Seer. “Can you move?”

“Yes.” As if to prove as much, the Miraluka climbed gingerly to her feet, wincing slightly. She stepped towards Arcia, reaching out. “Now let me take care of that rib already. I can sense your pai—”

“Don’t touch me,” the Admiral snapped, twisting back. Her injury twinged, making her hiss. “Stay out of my mind and stay away from me. We’ll get out of here, but then…” she trailed off. She did not know what then was going to be, but she knew she couldn’t trust the Miraluka, couldn’t let Atyiru ruin all she’d built out of the ashes of Destri Corden.

The Consul drew herself up and frowned. Arcia turned away, briefly examining her person to check for her tactical knives before returning to her inspection of their prison. She thought she heard what sounded like a trickle of water and wondered if there was an underground reservoir of some sort nearby — the lichen would need some source of damp, after all. If they could reach it, perhaps the water would lead out somewhere, either to its source or its end.

With a microscopic grimace, Arcia wrapped an arm around her ribcage and started walking, hearing the dogged footsteps of the Shadow Lord behind her.

The cold was quickly becoming unbearable. Violent shakes took over as it bit down to her bone. Behind her, the occasional whimpering and chattering of teeth led the Admiral to realize the younger woman wasn’t much better off. They had to press on, though. However this situation between them ended, it would have to wait until they escaped the caves. For now, it was merely a matter of survival at any cost.

She saved me from certain death. She didn’t try to kill me. She nearly died saving me. What do I do?! Arcia ranted to herself, her teeth grinding against one another adding painful effect to her internal struggle.

Another earth-shattering crash caused the icy floor to shake and rumble, nearly throwing Arcia from her feet again. She put out an arm to steady herself against the smooth wall and looked back to her Consul. Atyiru was slowly keeping up with her, but her face was becoming blue, surely matching Cortel’s own.

We have to get out of here.The cave’s natural heat is weaker this far down, no natural deposits of thermal gasses. We may simply freeze to death. Arcia looked back towards the black depths of the path before them. Well at least that would be the end of all this. As if the elements noticed the Admiral’s drifting thoughts, a chunk of jagged ice fell from above and came crashing before her. With a yelp, Cortel tried to jump backwards. She lost her footing and, half-sliding half-slipping, collapsed onto her back.

She felt like giving up. She was enclosed in a deadly trap — a tomb — and the Arconan Consul knew her most guarded secret. She was a forgiving woman, but just how forgiving would she truly be? Arcia had lied about her entire life, showing that she could not be trusted. Even worse, she had killed an Arconan to further her own goals. But just how much did Atyiru know?

A white gloved hand shakily extended into Arcia’s vision causing her to look up and back to see the Miraluka attempting to help her to her feet. Being too cold to sneer, the Admiral hesitantly accepted the assistance and slowly rose to her feet, only to shrug off the grasp once she was stable.

“Dest-Arcy, you m-misunderstand me. I didn’t c-come here to be rid of you. Y-your reaction h-has d-definitely explained a l-lot,” Atyiru couldn’t hold back the shivers as she spoke. “I just w-want to talk to y-you.”

Cortel, however, was able to speak very, very clearly. “What the frak do you want me to say, Atyiru? That I had a way out and I took it? Frak you and your self righteousness. If you think I misunderstood you, then tell me where I messed up, I doubt it will change anything right now. So fine, waste your breath. Just don’t freeze to death on me, because I will not be carrying your body through this cave.”

The Consul sighed and noticed that the Admiral’s left hand was on one of the hilts to her tactical knives. “G-good. Talking w-will help.”

Before the conversation could get started, though, Arcia checked her footing and started towards the black depths once again. The frequent rumbles and crashes of ice made it hard to think, let alone have a heart to heart talk, and with the Admiral ready to draw a knife at a moment’s notice, maybe talking wasn’t the best thing to do.

As the two continued in silence, Arcia could have sworn she heard her Consul approach, but over the rumbling and crashing of ice it was uncertain. Nor did she wish to look at the Miraluka to check. Careful step after step, Cortel pressed on. Then she felt a presence unexpectedly close. With narrowed eyes, Arcia half turned her head towards the Consul.

Atyiru had her fingers on the hilt of Arcia’s leftmost knife.

As if she had some untapped energy reserves, Arcia’s right hand snapped around Atyiru’s right wrist in a vice-like grip, pulling the woman towards her. Arcia spun, her left hand clenched with a single knuckle extended. She jabbed Atyiru’s right shoulder, shooting pain and a tingling sensation down the woman’s arm. A clear cry came from the Miraluka’s mouth as she jerked her arm back and cradled it, nearly missing the follow up fist coming towards her blindfolded face.

Atyiru narrowly avoided the blow, tilting her head and body to the left, and latched onto Cortel’s arm, giving it a powerful tug. Arcia lost her footing as the increased momentum nearly threw her to the icy surface. The two turned to face each other once more, Arcia’s face contorted in disdain, contrasting Atyiru’s sympathetic features. With the shake of her head, the Consul slowly raised her hands.

“Arcy, p-please stop. There is n-no need for this,” she pleaded through her shivers.

Arcia, though, did not stop. She clenched both her fists and lunged forward for another strike when a familiar prick entered the back of her mind.

“I said STOP!”

Cortel came to an immediate halt, wishing to smash her Consul’s face all over the ice in one second, the next wondering if she even should in the first place. Blinking a few times, she realized what was happening and furrowed her brow in further disdain.

“I told you to stay out of my head!”

“T-there is no talking to y-you! You aren’t e-even thinking right now!” the younger woman shrieked.

Another rumble underfoot and a crash not too far into the blackness caught their attention. The slightest hint of light began to expand and slice through the darkness, a most welcome sight to Arcia’s eyes. Looking back to Atyiru, Cortel took a deep, chilly breath and pushed past her, making her way towards the opening as quickly as she could.

The two remained silent for a time as they approached what could be seen as a large hole in the side of the mountain; a once sealed lower entrance to the caves. Arcia could get a signal out to the Nighthawk from there, then she would have to sort this mess out.

“Wait,” Atyiru’s voice came from behind.

Rolling her eyes, Arcia looked back. “What?”

“Well, Destri. Or Arcia, or whatever you wish to be called,” Atyiru cleared her throat. “Since you will not talk to me, at least let me give you a proposition…”

Huffing, Arcia turned in place, putting her back to the old door and herself between the Miraluka and their escape. She arched one frost-flecked brow and snapped, “Spit it out.”

Coughing again, the Consul drew in a ragged breath and drew herself up, spreading her hands before her. “Stay,” she said simply.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“All you’ve b-been planning since I brought you here is how you’re going to run — or how to shoot me,” she added, rubbing her shoulder. “But I d-didn’t bring you here to run you off or kill you or whatever silliness you’re expecting. I br-brought you here to honestly ask you to stay. Stay with Arcona. Stay and be my Proconsul like you said you would the fi-first time I offered.”

The Human stared blankly at the Miraluka and grit her teeth so hard that her jaw creaked, as if to shatter from the marrow-deep cold. “Are you serious?”

“A-arcy I am as s-s-serious as a cookie shortage on t-the C-Citadel.”

Somehow, Arcia’s eyeballs could still roll in their sockets, despite the cold. She scoffed and looked away, debating walking right on out of the cave. Even if she saved me, she can’t be serious. What’s the trick? Reach for my knives again when my guard is down? No.

The silence stretched, save for the haunted moan of chill air through the caverns and the groan of the earth. Arcia shivered, thoughts spinning, and Atyiru gave a sigh.

"You don’t believe me, do you? H-how can I p-possibly explain when you d-don’t even want to t-talk?”

“Then talk, Atyiru!” Arcia cried at last, glaring frigidly. “By the Forc—argh, just...go on. Quickly, and quit joking.”

“How much do you know about my people? The Miraluka," the Seer clarified at the other woman's sour sneer.

"Not a great deal."

"Allo-ow me to explain something, then. Fir-first impressions for us are absolute. Your face, your name, they don't matter to me." Atyiru waved a hand exaggeratedly in front of her blue-lipped, blindfolded countenance. "What I see is the soul und-under the skin. The truth of things. Me more so than others of my b-brethren, but like them nonetheless. D-do you understand?"

"I don't see what your point is."

The self-proclaimed Miraluka sighed. "You kn-know what I saw, when I f-first met you? A piecemeal gi-girl, patched together, panicked, terrified, desperate and...alone. So very alone. A-and here you are again, three years later, panicked and terrified and d-desperate and alone. You got b-better over time, I'll grant you, but the truth of you hasn't ch-changed at all."

A quickly-raised, trembling hand stalled Arcia’s reply. The Consul went on. "And y-yet, d-despite all that, there was and is something else in you, something resolute: d-determination like fire, burning, consuming ev-everything it touches. You're lonely. You're l-l-lonely, and you don't want to be, so you rage and howl and fi-fight it. But you don't just want to be noticed, oh no — you want to be remembered. You want pe-people to r-r-remember you for centuries a-and ages! And that...I need that."

The Admiral crossed her arms uncomfortably, squaring her stance. “You think you know me? Frakking great. But it still doesn’t tell me anything. What do you want from me?”

“H-how many t-times do I need to s-say it?” demanded the Shadow Lady. “D-do you recall when I h-hired you, I said I needed your mind, y-your tactian’s skills where I ha-had none. That’s true. But I d-don’t just need an soldier. Arcona needs m-more. Y-you're a woman who wants to be remembered, and I need that dr-drive for Arcona. You keep the Clan a legend, and y-you'll b-be one yourself. The A-admiral. The re-re-regular g-girl who c-conquered legions of Sith and J-jedi, who lead the h-highest of them a-all to vic-victory in d-dar-darkness a-and li-li-light...” she trailed off, teeth chattering too hard to speak any longer, swaying on her feet.

“...Atyiru?” Arcia questioned, watching her with a critical eye.

“I ne-nee…i-i-it’s h-h-hypo...”

The Miraluka pitched forward and crumpled to the icy floor.

Arcia froze, stock still, but not because of the cold.

What do I do? her mind screamed, heat swirling up her spine in an adrenal rush as her choices unfurled before her like the sunbursts of exploding starfighters. She could turn around, walk out right now, call the Nighthawk, and flee. It would be some time before anyone found Atyiru’s body if they did at all, and longer to find her. She could escape.

But what am I escaping?

Or...she could do as the younger woman had proposed: stay.

Lifting stiff limbs, Arcia marched over to the Consul’s slumped form, noting her bluish features and shallowly rising chest in the dim light. Reaching down, she hefted the Miraluka’s body with some difficulty and slung it over her shoulders. The Admiral tottered for a moment, frigid muscles protesting the stain, before she clenched her teeth again and put one foot in front of the other, slowly trodding towards their exit.

You’d better remember this alright, Atyiru, she thought doggedly as she stepped into the crystalline doorway’s light.

She just hoped this was the beginning of the story, and not the mistake she was remembered for.