Enaias had been showing incredible potential. Everyone at the Academy had commented on his prowess, and the skill with which he had mastered the rudimentary techniques that were to define every potential Apprentice. He had seemed to soar through the basics in the first few hours, as though he had understood the foundations of the Force from birth. He had been so gifted that he was released from the initial training faster than anyone had been in recent months. Some said he was a prodigy. Others said he was perhaps a return of the chosen ones; those who were so intimately tied into the Force that they would grow at great leaps and bounds in power faster than any Force-sensitive ânormalâ.
Enaias crept through the Halls of the Shadow Academy to his next class. His connection to the Force was strong for one so young, as was his will- and most importantly, his backbone. The young boy had seen Hell up close in the past months. He grimaced, grinding his teeth together. He would become strong, and use his hate to kill those responsible. For now, he must survive, unlike the rotten corpses that now littered the blasted world he called home. The young man rubbed his wrists where the shackles had chafed them raw. Though the scars had healed, the red skin reminded him of his recent past.
Shera IV had become a battle zone just as Enaias had turned the tender age of fourteen. First the Revolution, then the Vong cameâ¦ and then, the looters, bandits, and pirate scumbags. Their planet had been stripped of itâs meager possessions and later of the very people that inhabited it. What had been once seen as a safe haven from the Empire had become in later days a veritable concentration camp.
And the finality, the event that had broken them utterly, was the arrival of the Darksiders that served the Iron Throne. Images of his parents being shot by azure blaster bolts that tore their bodies asunder danced in his mindâs eye as the Dark Side toyed with him. How he hated them soâ¦ and yet, he still could not remember the final days with clarity. His mind had undoubtedly recoiled in shock. He did his best to push the thought of being ripped from his colony on Shera IV to the back of his consciousness.
In just a few short weeks he had become stronger. His innate connection to the Force was unusual. The other students whispered things about him. âProdigyâ, some called him. There were other nastier names. It mattered not. Enaias would show them all. He clutched his armory lightsaber hilt in his hand as he entered the combat room. His assignment- fight Merlika Nel, another student. Or possibly die. Either way, the loser might gain a non-career in the vast armies of the Fist as a mundane trooper. He swore to himself he would not lose this duel.
A sneeze jolted him, but he ignored it. There was time to deal with a common cold later. There was a bug running around the halls on Lyspair, but that was no uncommon occurrence. Dark Jedi did not let colds stop them. In fact, the more powerful ones could heal them with the Force, although the young Dark Jedi did not yet have that depth of knowledge. Medications would have to suffice for now.
The chamber door hissed shut behind them as the Combat Masterâs voice resonated through the loudspeakers. The Krath student he faced raised her own blue armory lightsaber as Enaias ignited his crimson blade. There were no formalities as this rank. It was kill, or be killed like common dogs. Only one would live to continue their training. Both students struck at each other clumsily with Banlanth strikes. Their blades screamed, and so did the two students out of fear and anger. The air stank of their fear and sweat.
Merlika managed to score a minor strike on Enaiasâs shoulder, searing his flesh. The stench of burning meat and ozone soured the air in the combat chamber to add to the already heady aroma. The acrid smell of smoldering skin reminded the orphan of his ruined home. A scream of pure rage spilled from Enaiasâ lips as he spat directly in Merlikaâs face. Merlika reached for her eyes in surprise at the unorthodox technique. The hesitation was her undoing.
The budding Sithâs crimson blade struck both her hands from their wrists and mangled her face with a deep sizzling cut. She dropped to the floor as the Combat Masterâs voice resounded, âStop!â
Enaias smiled coldly as he shut down his sizzling weapon. Another potential Krath had fallen. He hated them even more than the rest of the Darksiders. He would never forget the face of the Priestess that ordered the wholesale slaughter of his village. One day, he would kill every last one of them. He clipped the blade to his belt and left the chamber as directed. Medbots rushed in behind him to recover the wounded youngling. His fate was secured; he would soon transfer to House Plagueis like many of his graduating brethren would to their own assignments.