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Chapter Text

Suffering is good for the soul, right? Then suffer!

 The first time Asajj Ventress was revived her body remained broken. Artillery fire and associated falling debris had shattered her bones. It was only partially reassembled. Plus, her skin felt like it was on fire despite her submersion in the dark pool deep in the recesses of the Nightsister lair. 

  She was dead. As dead as her sisters. But then, horribly alive and wracked with pain. Her pale blue eyes snapped open to take in the dim green glow all around her. She flailed her broken limbs. Her nervous system panicked automatically, because she was drowning. Ventress sought the pool’s surface, at first in vain. Then, she found the rim and flailed with her dominant hand to wrench herself to the surface. But it was all in vain. She suffocated and died once more.

  The second time Asajj Ventress was revived she managed to claw her way out of the pool and cough out all the ancient waters and muck. She shivered in the cold, she was sodden all except for her right hand which was desiccated and crusty. She had never felt so ill. Which cruel ancient deity had put her through this ordeal? 

  Once her lungs and stomach were clear of the pool’s fetid waters, she lay on the stone floor and became accustomed to breathing once more. It was perhaps an hour before she attempted anything else.

  She was so tired. Tired and miserable. And still, her nerve endings were raw as her epidermis regenerated, recovering from cruel lightning. 

  When her memories also reknit that is the first thing she remembered. The term ‘thunderstruck’ had never had much meaning to her, but she was now intimately aware of the sensation. Her former master had roasted her alive. She was already dying, but for some reason he’d seen fit to electrocute her to death. A final betrayal. One more cruel twist of the knife from a man she had once trusted to call ‘master’.

   No, wait. Her consciousness intruded. She was becoming aware of herself as well as her memories. Aware of her actions. He didn’t choose to do this to me, my last act was to move my broken body in the path of the killing blow… for Vos.

  Asajj laughed, despite her delicately reknit ribs she laughed. “I did this to myself. I chose to die by electric fire. To save Quinlan.” Her voice was a wet croak. She laughed cruelly at herself, made a fist with her crusty right hand, and pounded it on the cavern floor.

  “I’m going to find him. I’m going to get my hands around his stupid muscular throat and choke him. Or kiss him. Maybe both?”

  “Who’s Quinlan?” It was a woman’s voice, spoken calmly.

  Ventress spun to address the intruder, causing her stomach to roil and for her to wretch again, yet it was empty. “He’s the man I’m going to kriff to death once I find him. Who are you?”

  It was a human woman in a homespun undyed dress and headdress. She has a broad nose and placid matronly expression. “I am chief of the Mountain Clan. Is that a proper method of execution?”

  “A broken pelvis would be a lingering death, not something one can walk away from. What are you doing down here?”

  “There was a disturbance in the Force, so I investigated. Forgive me, but I cannot offer you assistance. We reached out to one of your fellow sisters and were rewarded with only division and death.” She looked down on her with pity.

  “I am barely a Nightsister. And I don’t need your help. Where is Mother Talzin?”

  The matron cleared her throat. “She is dead.”

  “Not for the first time.”

  “She has made a few attempts for resurgence in the last few years, I think she has made her last. She is past merely dead. She's really most sincerely dead.”

  “Hmmm.” She processed this information. Talzin was her mother, but she wasn’t much of one. She gave her away, sent her back, sent her to die. In the end it might be a wash. “The entire clan is deceased, then?”

  “Mostly.” The old woman sighed. “You know how it is with Dathomirians. Yourself for example.”

  “Have you seen a dark-skinned man with a yellow mark across the bridge of his nose around here?”

  “Yes.” She sat back against a shattered table and folded her arms. “A few times. He offered to take us to safety.”

  “Safety against whom? Count Dooku?”

  She looked upon Asajj with pity. “You have a lot of catching up to do. No, someone is hunting Force-users, he said. He was forging an underground path to safety.”

  Ventress grunted. “Sounds like him.”

  “Why are you angry with him?

  “He put me to rest in the pool of The Sleeper.” She glanced back at the forlorn natural spring. “He should have hung me from a tree like any other self-respecting warrior. Wearing my armor. Not… Oh, Force! Why’d he drown me in this?” She plucked at the tattered remains of her evening gown. “I’ve got to find another outfit.”

  “Try over there, witch.” She motioned with her head.

  “I’m hardly a Nightsister.” Asajj grumbled as she trudged over to the corner of the room. All her joints ached and complained the whole way. “Born as one, at one time accepted as one. I’m nothing now.”

  “Everyone is someone, little sister.”

  “Those who’ve met me would beg to differ.” She shed what little wet fabric remained on her body. She was a little disgusted by the current state of herself. She used to be so curvy and muscular. Now she was saggy and bloated in places and emaciated in others. Returning from death hadn’t done her any favors. She’d have to get back up to fighting shape somehow.

  Quinlan had done her the favor of bundling her bounty hunter gear nearby. Along with her saber. She clicked it on and nodded with approval that it still worked. Then she used the rags that were her fine evening gown to wash her body, before donning her clothes and armor. She felt a little more herself now that she was kitted out. “If that man comes sniffing back here, tell him Asajj Ventress is looking for him.”

  “Will do. I shall leave you to your kriffing. Stay away from the mountains.”

  Before she could come up with a sarcastic quip there was a great flash of light and she was alone once more, leaving her to utter slander under her breath as she limped her way out of the lair. It was relatively unchanged since she was last here to train Vos. Maybe with more spider webs and dust collecting on the surfaces.

  She was reminded of the time she came crawling back here after Savage’s betrayal. Back then, as now, she had nothing. What had Talzin told her? ‘You have your breath, your skill, and your sisters. You have everything you need to survive.’ Well, two out of three isn’t bad.

  She paused once she reached the lair’s entrance and spared one last look back. This place was forlorn. Devoid of her sisterhood and their magic. Not even The Sleeper remained. And neither should she. Perhaps she had sucked up all their remaining powers to live again. Whatever, it didn’t matter as to why. All that remains is what to do with her remaining chances. And her future was not bound to this place.

  She left to greet the Eastern light, the mists, the forests, the bones of her sisters.

  When she crossed the threshold and into the vermillion Dathomirian sunlight her heart ceased beating and with a jerk of alarm she died once more.

  The third time Asajj Ventress was revived it was with a jolt of pain as some scavenger pecked at her left eye socket. She sneered and caught the creature by its long neck. It struggled a bit and flapped its wings before its vertebrae snapped.

  “Ah! Good. You’re alive.” Someone said, “I didn’t want you stinking the place up while I expired from dehydration.” 

  Asajj punched the dusty ground and raised herself up with a sneer. “Who are you?”

  There was a crude crucifix erected just outside the entrance with a young Dathomirian strung up with vines. They had long hair, the nubs of horns cresting their skull. They wore ragged clothes. A sign was hung around their neck that just read ‘THIEF’.

  They smiled. “Oh me? I’m nobody you want to know, I’m sure. Sorry about the bird. I scared them away for as long as I could.”

  “How long was I out this time?”

  They tried to shrug but found it impossible due to their binds. “A while. The sun was over there.” They pointed to the vermillion sky with their nose. “Until now.”

  She coughed. “Thanks… I suppose you’ll be wanting me to free you?”

  They grinned. “I’m not the boss of you. It’d be nice. Are you nice?”

  “I”m Asajj Ventress.” She pointed to herself, then to the stranger with an expression of expectation tinged with annoyance.

  “I never really liked my given name. Might give it up. Been tryin’ to reframe a lot of things as I die of thirst. You know, it’s execution and all, but at least it gives one the time to think.”

  “I’ll just call you Thief, then. What news, have you, of Count Dooku Thief?”

  “Oh, he’s dead.”

  “Good riddance.” Asajj growled to herself. “Who finally did him in?”

  “I hang out with the few visiting spacers we get, so you’ve come to the right place. Some Jedi General. Skysomehting.”

  “Skywalker?”

  “That might be it. This was a while ago, so.” Thief again attempted a shrug.

  “So the war is over? The Republic won?”

  “The Empire won.” Thief replied matter-of-factly.

  “The what?”

  “Oh, my. You’ve really been out of commission for a while. The Seppies are all dead and so are the Jedi.”

  Ventress felt dizzy for a second. “The Jedi are dead?”

  “Most of them. Tried a coup against the Supreme Chancellor they say. Or ‘The Emperor’ as he likes it now. There’s one Jedi hiding out here, a few day’s travel away. But I try to stay clear of him, he’s crazy. Got a lot of new rules in place. Particularly harsh on burglary as it turns out, him.”

  “Is his name Quinlan?”

  “Oh, no no. Taron Malox or something. Horrible fellow.”

  “Brown-skinned? Face tattoo?”

  “Nah. Pale with a beard and a jackknife smile. Came here after the Clone War ended and was held captive by the Nightbrothers. Then he got in their heads, started a right nasty civil war amongst them.”

  Ventress sighed and struck a pose. “Which side did you fall under?”

  “Oh, I’m not a Nightbrother. Or Sister for that matter.” Thief made a face. “Not really easy to get by as a Nightsibling at the best of times but that Jedi made a real mess of everything.”

  “What did you steal?”

  “Food. To eat. To get by. Just a meal, a succulent nuna meal and they string me up like this.” They  wriggled their arms against their bonds and huffed in indignation. “It was hard enough during the war, but now we’re all dead or at each other’s throats.”

  “Doesn’t seem like there’s much here for either of us.”

  “Got that right.” Thief nodded.

  “You said you know spacers.” Ventress put a little of her honeyed vocal fry into her voice to entice them.

  “Yeah. Not many make the effort, even less nowadays.”

  “If I let you go, will you take me to them?” Ventress asked.

  “Certainly. Hadn’t come up with any better plans for my week.”

  She nodded and reached a hand out, calling on the Force to snap their bonds. She drew upon her inner hurt, her loss, her forlorn soul.

  “Excuse me, miss. Are you alright?”

  “Shut up!” She concentrated. She commanded the Force to flow through her with all her might.

  “You might need to come a little closer, not just wave your fingers at me.”

  “Aaah! Damn it all!” She let loose a stream of expletives as Thief looked on.

  “Miss. Miss Ventress. It’ll be alright. Just untie me, please.” They attempted a sincere face. “Your magic is gone without your clan. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

  She looked up at the sky. At the reaching branches of the remaining trees, at the few pillars commemorating long-undead Nightsisters looking down at her, at the mocking moon far above. She put her elbows to her sides and flexed her fingers as if still reaching for the Force. “It’s not just that! I’ve lost far more than my sisterhood… Never mind.” She marched over to Thief and tore their binds with her bare hands.

  Once free they slumped to the ground on unsteady limbs, forcing Ventress to hold them close. They smelled terrible. “Thank you, thank you kindly sister. Ohh, where’s my hat. They tossed it over there somewhere.” 

  Thief took a few wobbly steps before stumbling down again. After a minute or two they got accustomed to blood recirculating into their legs, enough to swipe their reed hat out of the bushes and back onto their head. There were well-worn holes for their horns pre-punctured. “There we are. We can get going now. Unless you want to pluck that little birdie you strangled for a light snack.”

  “We can save it for later.” She loosened her belt a bit to secure the creature’s neck between it and her hip. “Where are we going?”

  “One of your sisters still lives, and she does a spot of off-world trade. This-a-way.” Thief staggered down the trail of destruction left by Grievous. Left by the defoliator tank. A swath of burnt trees and red earth littered with rusting droid hulks and the bones of her clanmates. All around her was a grim tableau. Her world was ruined. Those who survived were warring against themselves. Those she wished revenge upon were dead. Her list of allies were slim, if they were even still around.

  Quinlan, though. He’d know how to survive all this. He was the Jedi undercover operative, after all. Just thinking about his possible survival stirred Ventress’s black heart a little. She was lost and rudderless at the moment but finding him, and loving or killing him would shift her reality back into place. She was sure of it. When one is hopeless their soul cries out for one thing to hold onto. Ventress sneered at herself. Might as well be him. That dumb magnificent idiot. 

  Ventress revived followed the thieving Nightsibling leaving her clan’s tomb behind her.

Chapter Text

  The entire valley had burnt all those years ago when General Grievous attacked. In the years since it had begun the slow process of regrowth and renewal. It looked a bit better than what Asajj remembered from her last visit with Vos.

  Thief had a tendency to be infuriatingly vague and there were large gaps in their knowledge of current events, but it was enough for Ventress to judge that she had only been dead a matter of months rather than years. The important thing was that most of the men she held grudges with were dead, but the galaxy was not a better place for it.

  They grinned at her. A gallows house grin. “So now that you’ve come back from the dead, what are your plans?”

  “To get off the planet. There’s nothing for me here.”

  “You’re sure about that?” They tilted their head and looked closely at her expression.

  “Never was. I left as a baby and any attempts to reconnect with my past has led to disaster. I am not about to make a third try at it. What about you? It was a matter of time before you died of exposure, what are you going to do after practically coming back from the dead?”

  “Oh I’m still up on that crucifix. I always will be, physically or not. That’s just how I am going to go out. But until then? Same as you, I suppose. Keep getting by until I can’t do it any more.” Thief had a strange accent, as if they had learned to speak as much from off-worlders than locals like themself. “Where are you going to go?”

  “There’s a man I need to have a conversation with.” Ventress grumbled.

  “Is he a lover?”

  “I’m not sure what he is anymore, but he was. He was someone I died for.”

  “Ah, I see… Lucky you. Rare to find a man worth dying for. Figures, though. You, with a sharp jawline like that. Your whole body just hangs off it. I bet you got a lot of attention.”

  Asajj stared daggers at them and they just grinned once more.

  They walked in silence for a few minutes before Asajj broke it to ask a question. She’d noticed brambles overtaking the bushes lining their walking trail and the berries that hung off of them. She plucked one of them.

  “Are these edible?”

  “Yes, but duck.”

  “But what?”

  “Duck!” There was a whistling off to her side and Ventress’s reflexes kicked in. She ducked and rolled, one of the vines whipped over her. Thief did not come to her rescue, but did a little sideways shuffle. Their concentration was on the cluster of brambles. As more came to the rescue of the stolen berry they flailed around, vegetation blinded by vengeance but with no eyes. Thief caught a few berries let loose via centrifugal force.

  “It’s much better to pick them from a distance!” They smiled and triumphantly tossed one high in the air and caught it in their mouth.

  “I see.” Ventress crawled through the rust-colored dust out of range. “Please let me know ahead of time which flora is hostile.

  “Will do!”

  “Who are you taking me to again?”

  “Not a lot of your sisters made it out of the assault on Clan Talzin. I’m taking you to one of them. Mora’s the best. She lets me crash at her place sometimes.”

  Ventress plodded after them. She had mixed feelings about a reunion. She had tried to connect with her culture and her sisters at one point. Well, more than once to tell the truth. But it had only led to disaster which followed behind her. She had been welcomed back with warm sisterhood and Ventress repaired them by leading doom to their door. She felt sadness for them. 

  Not guilt, she had not wiped them out. Dooku may have commanded his cyborg toady to slaughter them, but she hadn’t given the order. But she did regret what happened. She deeply regretted it. She also felt sadness and self-pity. That was just one of the countless times she put herself out there and demanded more from the galaxy. Demanded a family and friendship. Demanded a place where she felt accepted and celebrated. So, of course it was taken from her. That was her curse, to only feel fleeting love before being snatched away just as she was feeling comfortable. 

  Ventress was beginning to feel like herself again, post-resurrection. She could feel it in her broad hips, in the tense of her jaw. She could feel it in that spot between her eyes that would form when she was annoyed or inconvenienced. The tightening of the skin around her eyes.

  With her memory cleared she reflected on what she wanted to do to Quinlan. She would sneak in and get close to him. Perhaps manipulating his mind at a distance. And then she would let the fantasy fall away and duel him to the death. Maybe stopping halfway to kriff his bloody body while he was still alive.

  It was while she was reflecting on herself and her situation, looking into the middle distance she noticed the dark tell-tale reverse-teardrop silhouette of a Baktoid Combat Automata B-2 Series Super Battle Droid. Ventress leaped in front of Thief, igniting her lightsaber on the way.

  “Get behind me!”

  Thief put their hand on her shoulder. “Sister. You needn't be frightened. Look closer, Asajj.”

  Ventress pointed her saber at the droid and illuminated by its yellow-gold light she saw that it was propped up with wooden scaffolding.

  There were more droids along the trail of various models. Each carefully stood up.

  “Was she in need of scarecrows? Does she grow crops?”

  “No. I don’t know why she has them up. You’d think to intimidate enemies and strangers. To be off-putting. But if you ask me, I think she puts them up so in that as-above-so-below magical metaphor, those that destroyed all her sisters shall forever more be facing away from her in the afterlife.”

  “Heh. Has she gone mad?”

  Thief grinned. “Do you think I would be able to tell, if she was?”

  “You’ve got a point, there.”

  She returned her hilt to her belt and walked onwards.

  In the low afternoon light she saw other spellcaster elements around them. Mora had also carved the bark of many of the surrounding trees into wailing feminine elongated faces. They were more eerie on the still-living trees as they seeped sap like blood.

  As they approached her home she heard a thock, thock, thock noise ahead of them. 

  The trail led to a clearing, with a humble wooden cabin at its center. It was the kind of structure built by hand with little help from machinery. Its occupant was splitting wood nearby.

  It was her Nightsister. She had abandoned her former garb and was dressed in overalls with a severe high-and-tight haircut though it was getting a bit long and wavy at the top. The straps of the overalls were slung off her shoulders, dangling by her strong thighs. She swung an axe to cleave a large sliver of wood in half on a stump. She reached for another one.

  “Are you Mora?” Asajj shouted over the axe fells.

  “I am Nightsister Morathax.” She called over her shoulder. “Only Beggar calls me ‘Mora’.”

  “That I do.” Thief giggled to themself. They hurried up to talk to her. “Is that burra fish stew I smell?” They sniffed in the direction of a cauldron propped over a campfire.

  Mora smiled. “Yes.” She tilted and shook her head. “I suppose you would like some?”

  Thief turned to Ventress. “Sister, give me that bird to pluck and pan fry. I’ll add it to the stew.”

  She relieved her belt of its burden and gave the bird to Thief. She strode up to introduce herself. “Hello, I’m-”

  “I know well who you are, Ventress. I was there when you limped home, bleeding internally after your Sith master betrayed you. I held a bowl of green ichor and performed the ceremony to heal you and induct you fully into the sisterhood.”

  Ventress could feel her upper lip curl up, responding emotionally to her words. “Oh?... Thanks.”

  The taller woman looked down at her, a strange look in her eyes. “And I was there to charm you, cloaking your form so you and our two best warriors could slay Dooku. And again to ensorcell Nightbrother Savage Opress. And when that failed, to bind Nightbrother Maul back into service. I know a lot about you.”

  Now she was really sneering at her. “Why?”

  “Because Mother Talzin would speak often about you. Pining after her lost children, Asajj and Maul. She would get into these states when she would fixate upon you and her plans for you. Sometimes to the detriment of present problems for the coven. She would go on and on.”

  She was frowning now, but more in surprise than automatic hostility. “She would?”

  Morathax stalked closer, her stance hostile. “It was so important to her that you return one day. And you brought hell following behind you. You doomed our coven, Ventress. I will never forgive you for that. I hate you. You’re the reason Talzin is dead.” This lumberjack was advancing on her holding an axe.

  Asajj could not quite decide if she should defend herself with her lightsabers or if this was a fistfight and kicking sort of situation. Morathax got right in her face. Then she knelt down before her, head bent, and reached out to lightly grasp her right hand. 

  “I pledge myself to your service for a year and a day, or whenever you choose to release me.” 

  She was tempted to jerk her hand away like she touched the top of a hot stove, but curiosity got the better of her. “Why do you want to swear yourself to someone you hate?”

  It took a few beats for her to respond. “I was off on the other side of the forest collecting spell ingredients during the attack. I felt my sisters die and there was nothing I could do. Nightsister Karis reached out to me moments before she expired. She was calmed by your presence in her last moments. She was very dear to me. And as a favor to her memory I shall help you.”

  Asajj closed her eyes and pursed her lips, touching that memory of Karis’ death. “She was a good person. She was kind to me.”

  “She was my everything.” Morathax pronounced, still holding Ventress’s hand and looking down at the dirt.

  Asajj rallied her emotions back to the present. “Arlight, rise.” She looked Morathax up and down. “Could you pull up your overalls? It’s hard to concentrate with the girls looking at me.”

  Morathax grabbed her own left breast. “They’re called tits, Asajj. You have a pair too. So does Beggar, even if they keep them bound.”

  Thief frowned. “It’s true.”

  “True, but still. If you please.”

  Morathax shrugged her impressively muscled shoulders. “If you wish.” After dusting sawdust off her chest she looped her arms through the straps. “What else do you desire?”

  “I want to get off this planet.”

  “You want to abandon your heritage, yet again, after all Mother Talzin did for you.”

  “Starting with abandoning me, you mean? Giving me away?” Asajj hissed.

  “She may have given you away, but she never abandoned you. Do not speak of things of which you are ignorant.”

  Ventress girt her teeth. “Are you going to help me or not?”

  “I will be a most loyal and true retainer, but that does not mean I have to be quiet or compliant while performing my service.”

  “You loved Karina that much? Enough to serve someone you despise?”

  “Yes. Until the ends of the galaxy.”

  “There is someone I love. And I want to get back to him.”

  Morathax squinted at her. “You love a man that intensely?”

  “I know. Disgusting, isn’t it? I need you to help get me off planet so I can find him and kriff him. And kill him.”

  “You want to breed him to death.”

  Asajj took a step backwards. “I don’t know if procreation is the endgame. It’s a revenge thing. Or a love thing… I’m not sure.”

  “Your wish is my command. We should try to get Morgan to come as well.”

  “Who is that?”

  Morathax frowned. “Morgan Elsbeth also survived the attack. She was one of those humans who joined the coven.” 

  “Oh, one of them.” Asajj recalled the strange family that had been accepted by the Dathomirians. 

  “Nightsister Shelish did as well, that little welp of a girl. But she already left for somewhere in the Anoat sector. And Merrin, but I lost track of her. That rogue Jedi must have taken her life. Morgan went a bit mad, lost in her grief. She went to the black ichor springs to recuperate and plan.”

  “Plan for what?”

  “To bring our once proud clan back to prominence.” Morathax held out her hand and the axe she had dropped was propelled back into her hand with an accompanying gout of green smoke. Ventress felt a stab of jealousy that her sister still had access to her magic.

  “Why aren’t you helping her?” Asajj looked at her sister curiously. 

  “Because I feel our clan is still prominent. As long as one of us survives, we remain a coven. Even without Mother Talzin.”

  Asajj grunted. She didn’t care about Morgan or the future of the clan one way or another. “There is something else you can help me with. I keep dying and reviving.”

  “I know.” Morathax sneered. “I can smell the stench of death on you.”

  “And I cannot access the Force. What is wrong with me?”

  Morathax looked her up and down. Then became solemn. “Perhaps it is Mother Talzin’s last gift to you? You are wrong. You can still access the Force. You are right now. Some of our cells die naturally every day. You were under a powerful spell of resurrection. Now that you have quit the lair, your own abilities are healing yourself. You are rejuvenating even now.”

  “How do I stop it and become mortal again?”

  “You do not wish to be invulnerable?”

  “I want to stop dying and reviving. It’s painful and disorienting.”

  Morathax smiled. “Perhaps I can help you with that. I’ll brew you some tea.”

  “Oh! Oh! Can I have some?” Thief called out from where they were adding the fowl to the stew by the campfire.

  Morathax turned to address them. “Last time I made you a mug you were crying in my arms inconsolable for an entire afternoon.”

  They grinned. “Yes! It was such good fun.”

  “Will this tea poison me?”

  “If anything it will get poison out of you, and help you confront whatever issue that consumes you, binding you to the spell. You would be your old self again, after sorting it out.”

  “I think it would take more than tea to sort out all my issues. But I’ll give it a shot.”

  “Good. I should get Cur. If we are to leave on a quest, he should come with us.”

  Thief clapped. “Road trip with my darling brother!”

  “My Nightbrother, my retainer, who never yields us kind answer.”

  Thief dramatically cleared their throat and spoke with an affected voice. “Tis a villain, ma’am, I do not love to look on.” They looked over at Ventress and mouthed play along.

  “We cannot leave on a quest and miss him. He does make our fire, fetch our wood, and serve in offices which prophet us.” She strode over to a mean shack that abutted her log cabin and knocked on the door with the back of her axe. “What ho, brother, Cur! Thou earth, thou speak!”

  “There is fuel enough within!” Sonene inside shouted. 

  “Come forth, I say.” Monathrax pressed. “There is other business for thee. Come, thou tortoise, when?” She pounded anew. “Thou poisonous brother, got by the Dark Brother himself upon my wicked departed mother, come forth!”

  The shak’s door opened a few centimeters, enough for bloodshot eyes to look out, one yellow and one orange.

 “As wicked dew as e’er my mother brushed with raven’s feather from unwholesome fen drop on you both. A southwest blow on you and blister you all o’er.”

  Monathax raised her axe as if to cleft his head in twain. “For this, be sure, tonight thou shalt have cramps, side-stitches that shall pen thy breath up. Urchins shall sally forth at vast of night that they may work all exercise on thee. Thou shalt be pinched as thick as honeycomb, each pinch more stinging than bees that made ’em.”

  Inside the shack the creature cringed and wailed at the thought of punishment. “I must eat my dinner first!” He scrambled out of the shack. This Nightbrother was lean and bent. He seemed patched together from two male Dathamirians, one half yellow with black markings and the other orange with black markings. The horns on his bald head were either stunted or broken. He spit at Monathrax as he spoke but still cowered before her.

  “This forest’s mine by Talzin, my mother, who was tak’st from me. When thou cam’st first, thou strok’st me and made much of me, wouldst give me water with berries in ’t, and teach me how to name the bigger light and how the less, that burn by day and night.” Cur’s tone was tinged with nostalgia. 

  He continued, “And then I loved thee, and showed thee all the qualities o’ th’ forest, the fresh springs, brine pits, barren place and fertile. Cursed be I that did so! All the charms of Talzin, toads, beetles, bats, light on you, for I am all the subjects that you have, which first was mine own king; and here you sty me in this hard shack, whiles you do keep from me the rest o’ th’ forest.”

  Morathax sent her axe whistling through the air and advanced on him. “Thou most lying brother. Whom stripes may move, not kindness. I have used thee, filth as thou art, with humane care, and lodged thee in mine own cell, till thou didst seek to violate the honor of my sibling?” She pointed the axe towards Thief.

  He pounded the dusty ground with his fists. “O ho, O ho! Would ’t had been done! Thou didst prevent me. I had peopled else this forest with Curs!”

  Thief dramatically strode over to them. “Abhorrèd brother, which any print of goodness wilt not take, being capable of all ill! I pitied thee, took pains to make thee speak, taught thee each hour one thing or other. When thou didst not, savage, know thine own meaning, but wouldst gabble like a thing most brutish, I endowed thy purposes with words that made them known. But thy vile gender, though thou didst learn, had that in ’t which good natures could not abide to be with. Therefore wast thou deservedly confined into this shack. Who hadst deserved more than a prison?”

  He pointed a twisted finger towards them. “You taught me language, and my profit on ’t is I know how to curse. The red plague rid you for learning me your language!”

  Morathax pounded the head of her axe on the ground. “Fetch us in fuel; and be quick, thou ’rt best, to answer other business. Shrugg’st thou, malice?” She extended a hand and with a gesture wove a spell, sending green mist to envelop his body. “If thou neglect’st or dost unwillingly what I command, I’ll rack thee with old cramps, fill all thy bones with aches, make thee so roar that beasts shall tremble at thy din.”

  Cur spasmed in pain and shouted out, “I shall obey! I shall be your vassal.” He then scooped up an armful of firewood to take into the cabin and scuttled away.

  Once Cur had left it was as if a spell had lifted and the other two dropped characters from a play they were performing.

  “What the hell was that about?” Asajj asked the universe in general.

  Thief smiled at her. “Isn’t he great? My little brother. I love him to pieces.”

  “He is handy when he is compliant.” Morathax grumbled. “I suppose you would want a refresher with a sonic shower, Asajj?”

  “That would be nice.” Ventress nodded. She could still feel the muck of the Sleeper’s pool on her skin.

  Morathax nodded. “You should use it first, Beggar. And I have some fresh clothes for you. Go and bathe.”

  Thief smiled and hugged her. “Thank you, sister. You are too charitable.”

  “And don’t you forget it.”

  Thief hurried inside on Cur’s trail. Asajj and Morathax were alone for the first time.

  “So what is it you do out here, so far from the lair?” Asajj asked her.

  “I was the ceremonial craftsman for the coven. I carved sculptures and shaped clay into the bowls we used for the ichor. Now with everything taken away from us, I carve wood into ceremonial objects. I sell off our culture to off-worlders for credits.”

  “You must have a commlink to call your buyers, then.”

  “That I do.”

  “I need to use it to call a ride out of here.”

  She gestured to the door with the head of her axe. “You’ll find it within. Go.”

  The interior of the cabin was rustic, with only a smattering of Nightsister artifacts betraying the identity of its owner. There was a wooden mannequin in a corner wearing the scarlet short shorts, blouse with the dragonfly wings mounted to their back, veil and hood that Morathax used to wear. An energy bow in its quiver hung around its chest. Thief was admiring the second-hand spacer clothes that would soon replace their rags.

  Asajj scanned the place and once she found the commlink she trudged over to it and dialed in the only comm code she had memorized for someone she guessed was still alive.

  Boba Fett picked up after the fifth ring. He must have been in the cockpit of Slave I piloting the craft for he was reclined and his helmet was off. He was wearing his pilot’s headset. His hair had grown out into long brown curls. At the angle he was sitting it was disturbingly like his crotch was closer to Ventress than his head.

  “Ventress?” He leaned forward for a better look. “You’re still alive?”

  “I could say the same to you. Puberty finally kicked in, I see.”

  “Why are you calling me?”

  “I need a small favor.” Her mouth twisted bitterly. She hated asking for favors. And she hated asking men for favors most of all. “I’m marooned and need a pickup back to society.” 

  “Hold on,” He broke eye contact and stabbed at some buttons. “Tell me exactly where you are, and I’ll be there.”

  She transmitted her coordinates. “There you are. You don’t mind the hassle? Help a friend out.”

  “Oh, no, Ventress. I’m very happy to hear from you. Just stay right there and I’ll be there as fast as I can. I’ll get the gang back together for this!” He smiled at her, a bit predatory. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

  “Yeah, same to you. Good on you for growing out of your pipsqueak era.”

  “Uh huh. See you soon, Ventress.” He cut the transmission.

  Thief appeared at her side. “Who was young-but-cute?”

  “He’s a bounty hunter I used to run with. He’ll come through.”

  “He will betray you.” Morathax declared imperiously from the doorway. “He’ll sell you out.”

  Asajj looked over her shoulder. “How can you tell?”

  “I don’t trust outsiders and I don’t trust men. We shall dine tonight and spend the night here. I will brew your tea and you shall imbibe. Then we will abandon the cabin and find Morgan.”

  “That’s not my plan.”

  “Your plan is to get captured. As your bodyguard I cannot allow that. You two, take your showers and I shall prepare our meal.”

  Thief grasped her arm. “You’re going to love it! Mora is a great cook.”

  Morathax gave her a withering look and went back to tend her cauldron. Thief went to bathe. Cur scurried away to hide in his shack. Alone again, finally, Ventress rolled her eyes and reflected that every time she tried to reconnect with her culture it felt alien to her. And now they were conspiring to keep her from reconnecting with her bounty hunting past. The last profession she found a modicum of belonging and success.

  “Kriff my life.” she muttered.

Chapter Text

  The stew was rustic and delicious, much better than Asajj’s own recipe. Her palate had been spoiled by fine dining either at the Count’s palace or after a big bounty score, but as far as Dathomiri cuisine went, not to mention first meals after returning to life, it settled pleasantly between her ribs.

  Ventress looked around the cabin, taking in all the little details as Morathax and Thief conversed. Cur dined in the corner of the room, bent and holding the bowl close as if liable to be snatched away at any time. That surprised Asajj, she assumed he ate in his hovel.

  When Morthax presented her with her after dinner mug of ‘tea’ Asajj sought to change the subject. “You have a nice place.”

  “Thank you.” She set the mug down on the table.

  “You consider yourself the inheritor of Clan Talzin, still the ceremonial sorceress and master of crafts?”

  “You know I do.”

  Asajj tilted her head and studied her expression. “Why don’t you live in the lair, still?”

  “Uh oh.” Thief scooted a bit further down the table.

  Morthax closed her eyes and inhaled through her nostrils. “Mind your own business.”

  “I was just curious, sister to sister. Perhaps you would have found me sooner?”

  “Hardly.”

  “There’s nothing to be ashamed of, you couldn’t do anything for them.”

  “I said drop it!”

  She leaned back in her chair. “If I were a worse person, I would command you to tell me.”

  The lumberjack got up into her face. “Are you then? Care to trample all over my boundaries as well as my cabin?”

  Ventress gave back what she was being given, almost touching foreheads with her sister. “I didn’t ask to come here, or reacquaint myself with you! I just want to know the kind of Nightsister I am dealing with.”

  “More of a Nightsister than you’ll ever be!”

  “A witch feels fear but rules it. What are you afraid of? Or ashamed of?” Morthax drew back her arm, her hand in a fist. Ventress put up her hands and smiled. “Hey, hey hey. No need for that. We’re all siblings here. I was just-”

  “Just an ungrateful guest bending the rules of hospitality!” Morathax grit her teeth, flexed her arm, fist trembling. Then she turned away. “Perhaps I missed a few ingredients in your tea, mayhaps it requires poison after all…” She pretzeled her arms. “I don’t need to tell you that, pledge or not.”

  Ventress pouted. Maybe this will gain her trust? “I just wanted to get to know my sister.”

  She sighed and her shoulders slumped. “I carved the pillar. The one that ended my lady love.”

  Asajj sneered. “That should matter for nothing.”

  “It does to me!” Morathax sighed.

  They turned towards each other ready to rekindle the argument when they were interrupted by the commlink.

  The lumberjack reached it first. “Yes?”

  “Oh, you’re not-” Asajj hurried into frame. It was Latts Razzi. She’d let her hair grow out and now wore it in bright red braids piled up behind her head now. 

  “I’m here, Latts! And I’m not dead.”

  “We all were convinced you’d have to be! We all agreed one night over drinks. You’d either be out there gaining fame or the Count had killed you.”

  “Yeah.” Ventress breathed heavily. “He just took me out of commission for a long while. I’m flattered you’d all cared.”

  “Listen, you’ve got a bounty out on you. Boba spilled the news, then he wanted to all go after you together. You’ve always done me square, so I’m sticking with you.”

  Half her face sneered. “The pipsqueak sold me out?”

  “Yes. I’m going to try to split you off and get you out of the world, okay?”

  “Alright, Latts. Thanks.”

  The young Theelan gave her a nod, and signed off.

  “That runt son of a bitch…”

  “It will be alright, sister.” Morathix said, the accent in her voice very pronounced. “We shall protect you. Now sit and take your tea, you wanted to cure yourself.”

  Her lips curled like serpents. “I did… didn’t I?”

  She took a crossed-leg stance at the low coffee table and sipped it down. “That’s not that bad!”

  Morathix frowned at her. “I knew to make it sweet to disguise the taste to one so unaccustomed to Dathomiri flavours. “Lay down.”

  Ventress’s eyes went wide as she suddenly felt the tea heavy in her stomach. “Why would I need to-” then she spasmed. Morathrix and Thief eased her delicately to the floor as her body underwent a violent seizure. She could feel her back flex so hard she was worried it would break. And then she heard her mother’s voice.

  “My sweet girl, do not wail. No man is worth your tears.”

  Then there was a deeper, older, dustier voice. “Ahhh my daughter. Not by blood but in a more unbreakable manner via creed. Cease your agonies.”

  And in Mother Talizn’s arms, she was a newborn again. Staring up into the Old Mother’s haunted eyes. Momentarily speechless in awe.

  “It pains me unbearably whenever I must lose a daughter. Particularly in such a manner. Having to trade in our witch’s blood for momentary security.” She made a disgusted face. “Sold to slavery to a man for that matter. I have only moments to prove my undying love to you, dear Asajj.” She caressed her scalp. “I have looked into your destiny. You were born under an unlucky star, my dear. You are always to be separated from your kind and made to call a man ‘master’. I vow to liberate you from slavery, my dear. There is only one drawback. You, of course, shall always be a Nightsister. No matter what. Also, you shall never truly become a Nightsister. And I shall lose you to the light.”

  Her face became solemn, as if she were already mourning her death seeing it clear though this newborn child.

  “But I have devised a way-” she swirled her free hand, green smoke coalesced into a dark green snake. “-to break that cycle.” The serpent coiled down her arm and embraced the child. “I curse you by this venom for always your masters to lack your expectations. And life expectancy during your days together. You will break free and be magnetically drawn to new lords.” 

  The tiny viper sunk its fangs into her chubby arm and the reptile faded to smoke and then nothing. Asajj cried again and began to size again.

  “They shall love you strangely and break your heart. Every one of them. But then you shall tame and forgive and fall for one, truly. And I shall lose to the light. But you shall not be lost to death quite yet. I shall send you back. You will be free.” She laughed. “And maybe even help me in scheme against the hated Count Dooku.”

  Asajj wailed and Talzin smiled. “I love you, child of mine.”

  And her already huge body suddenly loomed over her like a mad goddess. And then he was the Siniteen pirate Hal’Sted. Looming over her. His huge callused hands reached across her round belly. 

  “Be at ease, my child. There is time yet to vent your spleen. When you have ousted me as pirate clan captain. I know the day shall one day come. So I thought to myself ‘whom is best to continue my legacy?’ And the answer came to me after much self-study.”

  He attached together both sides of her nappy. And held her at arm’s-length. 

  “And only a glorious Nightsister, trained from speaking to be a pirate, would suffice!” He smiled. It looked genuine.

  “But why did you have to call me slave?” four-year-old Asajj asked him, while offering a copper bowl of grapes. 

  “To breed you hungry, always, my daughter.” He grabbed up a handful mass of grapes. He was a little older and worn now. “That will age you into having humility, eventually. Generosity. But until then you will be tough enough to be a pirate queen! Angry enough.”

  “You’re going to die, master. It will be soon.” She told him earnestly, as a child would.

  “I know that, my gray cupcake. I know that I am dead. I am only succored that your next master shall love you as I do.”

  She frowned, angry at all her conflicted feelings on the man. “Master! Do not talk of such as that.”

  “But I will get my wish in time.” grape juice dripped off his chin. He looked at her with soft eyes. “You will become a barbarian queen over all of Rattatak because I died. My dream for you 

  And then her spine spasmed but one. And she was thirteen. On Rattatak. And balancing on a slick stone with a Meiloorun teetering on her scalp. She had hair back then.

  “Master?”

  “Keep focused, my Padawan.” He swatted at a stinging fly on his back with a uprooted bamboo seedling. “You’ll lose your balance.” Her master walked around her back in a semi-circle and swatted her shoulder with the plant.

  “You’re dead too, Ky. They’re going to kill you like you killed Hal’Sted. With no mercy.”

  “Oh you’re not still mad about that, are you?” He raised a cynical eyebrow and swatted the top of her hand.

  “That was everything to me, master. That’s what broke me.”

  And she was nineteen again. Her hair flopped down over one side of her face and the sides completely shaved. “That’s what doomed the rest of your life. I hope you know that. Your sins broke me.”

  “I did not sin against you, my Padawan.” He moved to embrace her. 

  She swatted him away without losing any three of the fruits in descending sizes that she now balanced on the top of her head. Though they did wiggle in a wavy line. 

  “No? Look at how you taught me.”

  “I had to make do with whatever I could marooned from the temple-”

  She shut her eyes tight and screamed at him, “You were not marooned, you could have taken me to the Great Temple and present me to Yoda beneficently. But I bet you couldn’t! I bet you asked for a little girl of your own and they refused you.” 

  Ky bent his head and aged by a decade. “Ventress, my Padawan.”

  “I bet you got one of them killed and banned you. I bet you got a little girl killed! One just like me. And you couldn’t let go of that idea to make me all yours. And that’s why you killed him. Because you killed that little girl.”

  “Asajj, you know not of what you speak.”

  “Go away. Shy away, phantom. I got rid of you and killed your ghost already. You were all in my head then, and you are now. I’m hallucinating from the tea.

  “Oh, is that what you tell yourself, my child. That’s sweet.” He smiled sarcastically, turned translucent light blue, and faded away. 

  Then she was convulsing on the floor of the skybox at the arena. She was tasting the lightning for the first time which would eventually end her life.

  “You have learned well from me, my assassin.”

  She coughed. Her body spasmed again. “Your apprentice… as deep as you plunge into self-denial the pressure kills you; I was your dear apprentice. You did love me as only a Sith master can.”

  “I still do.” He took a delicate sip of his amber wine. He’d just bested her, disweaponed her, and tortured her for the first time. Without spilling a drop. He had an aura of being undefeatable now. He made Asajj feel a feeling of hate and pride daughters should have had for your real father. 

  “You kriffing killed me, master. I despised you with an ardor only an abused daughter’s true paternal connection and love gifted to you. I was your apprentice and you killed me.”

  “You killed yourself , Asajj. You ended your own life in exchange for Vos. You cannot dare blame me, child.”

  “Kriff you, dad.” She swayed her head. “You were my God and I was your Lucifer.” She tisked at him even as her flesh burned. “I despised you and adored you so much. I wouldn’t do that for a mere assassin instructor. I died for myself, not you.”

  He frowned. He just tortured her and he has the gall to be genuinely ashamed? “I know, my child. I regret that as much as my own fall. I could have shared an Empire with you. But I chose to sacrifice you to save myself. So temporarily safe.” He had the hubris to hang his head in shame. “My Empire of salt I shall never dwell within. As much as that I regret smiting you.”

  “But you did!” Early-thirties Asajj spit at him from the cockpit of her experimental starfighter, her organs bleeding internally after his betrayal. “You did do it, twice…” She swallowed and then she was in the crumbling Christophis redout with him. Her body was riddled with lightning injuries. She coughed. “You killed me, twice. Struck me in the head with a river-rounded boulder on a stone altar twice for your own master.”

  Dooku was bent and broken and had one swollen eye. He was close to death himself. 

  “Sypho-Dyas should have warned you about me , not the Clone War. I wish you killed Narec, and not his real killer. So I could hate you with higher purity. Instead, you just killed my opinion of him.”

  He almost growled at her.

  Ventress narrowed her gaze and used her best honeyed vocal-fry on him. “You chose me because I remind you of Master Lene Kostana, didn’t you?” 

  He looked over at her with his bloody face. “You wound me, child.”

  “This might be my last chance, if only in hallucination. I’m glad you’re dead, master. I hope your soul left your body along with your Living Force and it dissipated into nothingness. For me, you don’t exist any more.”

  He turned away. “I loved you like Ky Narec before me. In my own way.”

  She bent her head to an extreme angle. “You don’t think I hated you like a daughter back? But we both died and I am free of you.”

  A whisper of side-eye. “Farewell then, child.” He spun to point his fingers at her and execute her again.

  When she could move again, it was hot and dark. There was just a sliver of silvery starlight falling into this underworld.

  “Master?”

  A shape moved in the darkness. “Qui-Gon? Are you there?”

  Her lip curled. “Obi-Wan? Is this what afterlife for failed Jedi feels like?”

  He let out one astonished chuckle. “Ventress. You would be one to know as well, you’re dead.”

  “You killed me too, hallucination. You sent Quinlan to recruit me. You shelled that redout with your clones. You’re just another man who instrumentalized me. Turned me into a weapon against Count Dooku.”

  “Yes.” he whispered. “Just another one of my sins.”

  Asajj smiled. “You’re just like Dooku. And Yoda. Astonished by your inequities, yet you swallow them down in the end.”

  “I’m sorry, Ventress. I’m glad I have the opportunity to apologize.”

  “You’re with Vos, I take it?”

  “I am not. We were separated during Order 66.”

  “And your Jedi hell keeps you in solitary.”

  “Well,” he waved around him. His ghostly form was so ethereal. “It is as you see.”

  “You’re getting what you deserve, then. How can I hold onto anger towards you?” She sniffed. “We could have been quite the pair, if I was taken to Coruscant.”

  He laughed. “We could have been. You could have even gotten to me before Satine.”

  “Who is that?”

  “Oh, just a bird I came to fancy as a youth… She is my true love.”

  “Congratulations.” She surprised herself by feeling genuine emotions for Kenobi.

  “Maul killed her.”

  “When he was Darth or?”

  “After he came back.”

  “Ah… That’s kind of my fault, in a way. I trained Savage, and he revived his brother. In a way, Mother Talzin killed her.”

  “Oh…” For a split second Asajj imagined she could feel his emotions. “From a certain point of view. Well, I guess that balances the scales a bit.”

   “I guess it does…” She smiled. “I would have given you the best sex you’ve ever had.”

  “Mmm, perhaps. Goodbye, Ventress. Thank you for the pleasant conversation.”

  “Wait, Obi-Wan! I-” She seized again. And then the stone floor was a stone altar.

  “You seem ungrateful for your resurrection, Asajj.” Talzin helped her up. Asajj now knew Morathrax was nearby bundled up in witch’s garments.

  “You used me just like these men.” She walked by her side but Talzin pulled a Yoda and gave her the silent treatment. “I was your catspaw. You turned me into a weapon just like my enslavers.”

  “You intersected with my master plan against Dooku. My curse with your curse. I paid you back with the gifted venom. You are revived and you are free.”

  “That doesn’t change the fact that you’re just as culpable for my death as those men.” She closed her eyes and shook her head. “They killed you too, didn’t they?”

  “They did. Only my son survived.” She turned to her. “And Morgan.”

  “And Morathix.” Asajj added. “And Shelish and Merrin.”

  “Those two midagers do not concern me, though they also have parts I arranged in the long game.”

  “You disgust me. And I wanted to be just like you once.” Asajj wished she were real so she could bite her. “You preyed upon my jealousy and envy.”

  “An envy only a shave could harbor.” Mother Talzin closed her eyes and nodded solemnly. Like a witch martyr in a stained glass window. “All of you shall assist my revenge against Darth Sideous.”

  “Kriff you, hallucination. And I am ashamed to say I still love you and envy you.”

  She smiled like the schemer she was. “You have more ghost to meet, and we have all the time we need to talk in your dreams.” She raised her arms and green smoke erupt from her sleeves, enveloping Ventress. 

  The next cluster of seizures commenced. And she was in a safehouse. She’d spent enough time as a bounty hunter breaking into the things to know a safehouse. And she wasn’t alone.

  “Quinlan!” She cried as loud as she could.

  “Ventress!” He swept over from where he sat studying a computer. His hands just phased through her ghost. “Oh, you’re still dead.”

  “You’re the one who’s dead, handsome idiot!” She frowned, and then smiled. “You buried me wrong.”

  “I did?” He looked saddened, but was not yet crying. Just like the stupid Jedi he was.

  “You were supposed to hang me from a tree, so I could serve my sisters even after death.”

  “I’m sorry?”

  “It’s not your fault, you dumb lug.” She swallowed. “I only had the accelerated course in Nightsister rituals. And I gave you the weekend lecture audit.” She closed her eyes and smiled. “And I’m not dead.”

  He pointed to himself, still squatting on the floor. “Ventress, I’m not dead.”

  “If you are alive then that doesn’t change the fact that you’re a hallucination.” She sighed in defeat. “I’m stuck on Dathomir.”

  His dark eyebrows rose. “I’ll come and find you!”

  “You can’t, you drug shadow, you.”

  “Asajj. I’m alive! And I’ll come get you.”

  “On the outside chance this is real, find me where this all began.”

  “You got it, babe. See you soon.”

  She smiled. Her form dissipated into smoke. “Idiot.”

  She awoke back in the cabin. Thief was asleep by her side in an armchair. It was now full night and everyone else was deep asleep.

  “Thief,” she whispered.

  They started. “Sister?”

  “I’m back from the teacup.” She realized with embarrassment this was Morathax’s bed. She looked around the cabin to see where she ended up. She was curled up on the couch with Cur.

  “He doesn’t sleep in that shack?”

  Thief looked over at him. “Oh no. They’re like that most nights.”

  “But they hate each other.”

  “No. No, they don’t. They’re dedicated to each other. Mora’s pledge of service is Cur’s as well. I suspect they’ll breed and start the clan over again.”

  “But Morathax is into women.”

  “That doesn’t matter when it comes to ceremony.”

  “They’ve got a weird relationship.”

  They shook their head. “No, it’s perfectly normal. Mora loves Cur because she isn’t alone, and she has someone to vent her anger at. Someone alive. Cur spent his whole life on the fringes of the Nightbrothers. As did I. He was the lowest of the low, there. But with Mora he gets what only the strongest and highest status of the Nightbrothers get.”

  “The privilege of being dominated by a Nightsister.”

  “Exactly. They play their parts well, and I play mine.”

  She lay back down on the pillow and closed her eyes. “You are all very strange individuals.”

  “Of course we are,” Thief closed their eyes as well. “You’re our sister, after all.”

  Asajj was cold awake, then. Yes, she was their sister. And she could never be a Nightsister in a way that mattered. And she wasn’t a pirate. And she wasn’t a Jedi. And she wasn’t a Sith. And she wasn’t even a bounty hunter.