I'm sorry if I failed miserably, I'm not as good at fiction as everyone else and I probably got it all wrong

Submitting as per conversation on Telegram, this is a pre-written piece that has not been used for another competition.

-5 years ago
Ok, Kadrol, you are now of age, and shall receive your marks of a warrior. Kadrol climbed on the metal table where the other Nightbrothers had received their tattoos. The ten-year-old Kadrol would feel every bit of pain as the ink was pressed into his skin. He received marks for his clan and family, but also for his personality. That night, a shrouded figure entered the village. He was recruiting a new Sith. Kadrol wept as he was taken from the only life he knew. He was taught how to use anger and passion by this man, but then given over to a blue skinned man. This man took care of him and treated him well. He trained with him. The man revealed himself as Brimstone.
Present day
Kadrol was now fifteen. Brimstone had trained him in the ways of the Force. Brimstone was intrigued by Kadrol. He didn't know why. The Zabrak had immense talent with the Force, specifically the Dark Side, but he didn't commit to it. He still had mercy in him. The Chiss knew his apprentice was smart; he just needed more training. In time the Zabrak would have the potential to be a leader on the Dark Council. If Kadrol got angry, then he was nearly unstoppable: even for a knight.
“Kadrol,” Brimstone called “It's time for your lesson.”
Kadrol came obediently. The Zabrak was learning to lift objects with the Force. “Aaargh!” He yelled in frustration as he dropped the pile of stone again. “Use that anger to aid you.” Brimstone spoke softly. Kadrol hated it when his master yelled at him. The young Zabrak fell against a cold stone wall into a fetal position, sobbing. Brimstone dismissed the lesson early that day. His master knelt beside him, asking “Why do you cry when you are upset?” Kadrol only shrugged. In his room that night, Kadrol practiced his moves like an artist painting on a canvas.