Trial of Spirit/Part 8

Karalin sat cross-legged on the crimson rug laid out in the center of the chamber. The room itself was dim, the only lighting coming from fixtures built into the pillars along the walls. As Karalin sat in the middle of the room, taking deep breaths in mental preparation, Rhan Turvo sat patiently across from him. He watched with calm eyes as Karalin attempted to find serenity within himself, the Force around him rippling.

The Zabrak opened his eyes, “When do we begin?”

“You begin whenever you are ready,” Turvo responded. “There is no rush.”

Karalin shut his eyes again, taking a deep breath before murmuring, “Okay. I’m ready to begin the trial.”

Turvo nodded, “Very well. The Trial of Spirit will test your will as a Jedi. You will embark on a journey of self-discovery in order to seal your position in the Jedi Order. Do not lose yourself, lest you may forever be lost to madness.”

My will as a Jedi, Karalin echoed in his mind. Not quite what Erithos had told him before, but it didn’t matter now. “What will I see?”

“I don’t know. Perhaps a dark manifestation of yourself, or maybe a glimpse into your future. There will be only one way to find out.”

Karalin grimaced. These were not things he wanted to see—but he knew he had to. That was the whole purpose of the Trial of Spirit, to face his inner demons. With a soft, quiet grunt, he responded, “I’m ready.”

“I will remain by our side through the trial,” Turvo said. “Should you need rescue from danger, I will save you.”

Karalin chuckled, “I won’t need saving, Master.”

Turvo simply smiled in response.

Karalin took a moment to adjust his position on the floor before resting his hands on his knees. He relaxed his body, reaching out with the Force and allowing it to flow through him. An odd sensation overcame him as all thoughts were dispersed and his mind phased to a new reality. After a while, he felt as though he were floating in midair, at peace in an empty void. He could hear his hearts beating at a normal pace, and his aspirations became smooth and controlled. Reality became nonexistent as all his senses began to diminish.

He opened his eyes. Darkness enveloped him, but it was not the dark of an empty void. Karalin glanced around, taking in the scene confusedly. He was on what appeared to be another planet, covered in mountains and shrouded in mist. Currently, he stood in a valley, the crags surrounding him seemingly unclimbable.

No memories came to mind. He had no clue where he was, or why he was here. As Karalin inspected the veiled valley he stood in, he placed a hand on his lightsaber, still hanging from his belt.

Where am I? Karalin’s voice echoed through the valley, bouncing off its walls and sounding in his ear. What was that? Again, his voice spoke from the heavens, and yet also as if from just beside him.

Suddenly he heard footsteps from somewhere behind him. He took his lightsaber from his belt without activating it and spun around, squinting into the mists. But just as quickly as the steps had appeared, so too had they disappeared. Karalin began walking in that direction with caution, lightsaber hilt held in front of him. However, before he could make much ground, the sprinting of another sounded from somewhere behind. When he spun around, he barely managed to make out a figure disappearing into the mist.

“Hey!” he shouted, his voice emanating from his throat rather than everywhere this time. “Wait! Who are you?” Karalin began running after it, listening for the figure’s footsteps as he went.

He made his way through the valley, the fog growing thicker and thicker as he went. Karalin could hear the figure’s footsteps slowing down to a halt, somewhere just ahead of him. The Zabrak activated his lightsaber, its blue blade providing barely any light to allow him to see whatever may be ahead.

Just as the figure came into sight, the mist began to clear up. At the same time, an agonizing scream pierced the sky, emanating from none other than the figure. Karalin knit his brows as he investigated the scene before him—the figure yelled up at the sky with a blue lightsaber in hand. It appeared to be standing over a corpse, and one of almost brutish build it seemed; it was garbed in dark armor, and what appeared to be two halves of a lightsaber hilt rested on the ground beside it.

Then Karalin spotted the red tentacles on what must’ve been the corpse’s face. He began glancing back and forth between it and the figure, muttering, “What did you do?”

He stuttered backwards as the figure turned to face him rather sharply. Karalin’s curious expression turned to shock as he looked on at himself. The figure was identical to Karalin in nearly every aspect: his facial tattoos, his yellow eyes, even the scar across his face. There were but few distinctions between the two, particularly a second scar running over his left eye, and a hood cast over his face, creating a rather dark demeanor. Darker than Karalin would’ve liked. His robes appeared torn and burnt, the armor beneath them worn; freshly weathered from a recent battle.

“Who are you?” The question was rhetoric, and he knew it.

Instead of answering, the second Karalin began marching in his direction. He lifted his blade, getting into position to attack Karalin, who lifted his own to defend.

Karalin blinked.

The world of mist was gone. The corpse was gone. The figure was gone. All replaced by a dark chamber, in the center of which was a rather familiar emblem. Karalin grimaced as he identified it as the hexagonal symbol of the Sith Empire. Feelings of hatred began to run rampant through him as he glanced around the place. On the far side of the chamber was a massive window overlooking what seemed like a bottomless pit, on the other side of which was a dark city covered in rainfall. If what he had learned from the Archives was true, this was Dromund Kaas, the governmental capital of the Sith Empire.

He blinked again. Suddenly, a figure clad in a black cloak stood before him in the center of the chamber. Beneath the cloak, Karalin could barely make out the dim glimmering of a silver-plated lightsaber handle.

Karalin reached for his own lightsaber, only to be perplexed when he found that it was already in hand. Returning his attention to the figure, he asked, “What’s going on?” He cocked his head to the side in an attempt to see beneath the hood drawn above the figure’s face. “Who are you?”

The figure threw back his hood. Karalin was not surprised to find that it was himself once again, only this time he was far more different than before. His yellow eyes held much more hatred than Karalin’s ever had, and half the horns on his head were cut clean in half. He also realized that one of his arms was completely prosthetic, and likely capable of crushing his skull with ease.

“Is it not obvious who I am?” said the dark manifestation of Karalin. “I am you.”

Karalin shook his head, “No. I’m no Sith.” When the other did not respond, he repeated himself, “Who are you?”

Karalin’s dark doppelgänger smirked, “If I am not you now, then I was you. After the Jedi Council knighted me, I went after Nerox. Chased him around the entire galaxy likely twice before I finally caught him.” Karalin appeared intrigued by the story, but remained on guard as the other spoke. “I struck him down. After that, I returned to Tython and was rewarded with exile. Can you imagine that? Putting down the bastard responsible for the deaths of so many Jedi, only to be punished for it?”

“So you turned to the Sith,” Karalin said. It was not a question, the rest of the story seemed obvious to him.

“Precisely,” said the other, a hint of Imperial accent in his voice. “Without a purpose or path to follow, I had no other choice. Of course, they welcomed me with open arms. Rather quickly I become known as Darth Varoth.”

Karalin raised a brow, “How’d you manage that? Last I checked, the Empire isn’t fond of nonhumans.”

Varoth smiled, “I am glad you choose to listen. I rose through the ranks quickly by eliminating competition, of course. That’s how it works here. Showcase your strength and power, and you will be rewarded for it.”

“So…I kill Nerox and take his place?” Karalin murmured. “That doesn’t seem very plausible a story. How could I become what I swore to destroy?”

His counterpart shrugged, “What else would I do? I had no other choice. And a fantastic decision it was.” Varoth approached Karalin with an upraised hand, causing the latter to raise his lightsaber hilt. “Come, Karalin. Claim your destiny.”

Varoth arrived within melee range of Karalin.

The two Zabraks stared intensely at each other. In the eyes of the Sith there was deception, and in the eyes of the Jedi there was hatred. “I forge my own destiny.” In a flash of blue light, Karalin activated his lightsaber and swiped at the Sith’s outstretched arm. Just as he thought he would strike true, Varoth was suddenly nowhere to be found.

Until the hiss of a lightsaber being drawn sounded from behind Karalin. He spun around just in time to block the counterattack. As Varoth continued throwing attacks at Karalin, the latter knew he was now being forced into a disadvantageous position. He heightened his awareness in search of a window of opportunity. He saw it when Varoth held his blade up to try for another aggressive strike. Karalin propelled himself backwards using the Force, causing Varoth to stutter in the process. The distance between them now widened, Karalin took this moment to analyze his opponent.

It’s the same as any duel… His voice echoed all around him. Analyze, predict, and…

He ducked beneath Varoth’s next strike. Rising again, he attempted a counterattack of his own, only to have it swept aside by the red blade. Suddenly, the Sith raised his hand and threw Karalin backwards, sending him flying across the chamber. He landed with a thud that resonated around the room. With a grunt, he turned onto his back in time to see Varoth flying in the air towards him.

Karalin instinctively raised his hand and threw the Sith backwards. Taking this opportunity to recuperate, he drew his lightsaber again and leaped at his counterpart.

Suddenly, as he flew through the air, everything around him dissipated. The chamber on Dromund Kaas was replaced by fire, rubble, and pure terror. Varoth was gone, replaced by the hulking Pureblood that was Nerox. When he landed in front of the behemoth, he attempted a jab straight at the torso. It was to no avail as Nerox deflected the strike with a single hand. A grin on his face, he continued to one-handedly deflect Karalin’s attacks with ease.

He’s toying with me, Karalin’s voice echoed as his strikes grew more aggressive. But in the moment he thought this, Nerox swung at Karalin with enough force to knock his lightsaber out of his hands. Before he could even blink, the Sith came back around and swiped across Karalin’s face. A flash of white light blinded Karalin as he felt himself drop to the ground. The newly-inflicted wound stung; it caused him to cry out with rather contained agony.

Then everything turned to darkness again.

There was nothing. Only pain and suffering as his face stung and his insides burnt—what from he could not tell. Screams escaped him as he began to plummet into the void. If this was not death, then he didn’t know what was.

Voices echoed in the distance. Vengeance is far from the path of the Jedi…You’d have been knighted many years ago had it not been for your exposure to Padawan Tak-Crai’uz… The voices mocked him. They denounced him. Before long, he was trying to cover his ears in order to block out the voices. Keep this up and you’ll never become a Jedi Knight! That phrase he had heard some time ago; it felt like millennia now. He shook his head as it continued to echo, You’ll never become a Jedi Knight!

Never!

A Jedi Knight!

Then there was silence. By now, he was quite certain that madness had consumed him. He was gone.

Karalin… spoke a calm voice from somewhere just beside him. But when he glanced in that direction, there was nothing.

''Stay true to yourself. Remember your morals and beliefs.''

“Erithos?” Karalin turned in the other direction, hope in his voice. But there was nothing there. A groan escaped him as he crouched down and buried his face in in his hands.

Truly, he was alone.

I’m his friend.

Hope was reignited inside Karalin as he looked up. The scene before him was familiar: the Jedi Council, seated around the table as he and Daerith stood before them. It was odd, seeing himself, although not as odd as seeing that evil manifestation.

We will rise together. A warm feeling overcame Karalin as he listened to Daerith’s words. I will never become a Jedi Knight until he does as well.

The scene faded away. Karalin continued to stare on, so many thoughts racing through his head. He sighed before murmuring, “Daerith’s counting on me to succeed. Just as I’m counting on him.”

Karalin began pushing himself up off the ground. As he did, he realized he had returned to Dromund Kaas as he noticed the cold floor he laid on. When he stood up, he looked towards the window, and saw not Kaas City, but the same scene he had witnessed thousands of times before.

Nerox stood over him, a malicious grin on his face. He loomed over the now-wounded Karalin, that alone a taunt, even without words emanating from his mouth. It was a truly daunting sight, one that Karalin had relived so many times over the last decade. He watched as Nerox tightened his grip on his lightsaber and lifted it in the air to deliver the killing blow.

Then Karalin was flung across the room. He landed at Daerith’s feet, semi-unconscious. As he was carried from the Jedi Temple, the vision turned to Kaas City once more.

“You failed to kill Nerox that day,” spoke Varoth, who stood at his side. “So many suffered by his hand because of your failure.”

Karalin turned to face him. He examined his dark side counterpart, head to toe, before saying, “Perhaps in your reality. But not mine.” Varoth raised a brow in intrigue as Karalin continued, “I escaped so that I may return stronger.”

“But will you become strong enough?” Varoth retorted.

With a scowl on his face, Karalin pulled his lightsaber to hand and held it at Varoth’s abdomen. Without activating it, he said, “You’re only a figment of my imagination. You come from a reality that will never come true.”

He activated the blade.

And darkness returned.