Letting Go

Issac could feel himself reaching his limit, he knew he should stop or at least relent, but the rage drove him onward. A small voice at the back of his mind was telling him to rest, that he needed to rest, that he would destroy himself if he kept this up, but still he threw himself at the light, over and over, each attack wracking his mind with blinding agony, each agonizing burst fueling his rage. He felt his mind reach breaking point, back in the corridor there was a growing pool of blood on the floor, fed by the streams pouring from his eyes, nose, ears and mouth, but still he readied himself for one more attempt, and then, as he felt the pain grow again, it was gone. Suddenly the light vanished, leaving an impossibly dark void that he rushed into, the fury now having nothing to direct itself at. At the same time, in the physical world, the air around Issac’s body seemed to become charged with a sickening static, steadily growing in intensity with every passing second.

<Kid. Kid!> Nyavi’s voice, distant. At the same time unimportant and all-important. Hard to focus on, yet piercing through the veil of rage like a spear. <He’s gone, kid. You did it. You won.> But the rage wouldn’t dissipate. Nyavi felt that, too, and he could feel her understanding, and fearing. How could she not? Their minds were entwined. He knew what she knew, she knew what he knew. <Issac.> She tried again. <There’s a reason the Jedi condemn anger. It’s like a fire. It wants to be fed. But right now, all you have to feed to it are your allies, and yourself. So let it die.> That touch of her essence again. Like an embrace. Images of a mother consoling a child. <You can’t calm anger by feeding it.> Electricity surging, dying, stuttering back to life, surrounding both their bodies. <Let it die.>

Instinct told Issac to turn his ire towards this voice, to destroy it, but as he searched he could not find it. It seemed to surround him but he could not see it, every time he caught it in his periphery and turned to look at it, it was gone. The dark broiling storm that was his mind began to shift, to change, being altered by his confusion, by the feeling of fear from Nyavi. Their shared minds eye began to see images, faces, and with these faces came an overwhelming sorrow, an old sorrow. So many faces flashing past almost in a blur, their faces contorted in horror, the blue glow of a light saber reflecting in their eyes. With this sorrow, Issac's own fear began to grow, and with this the images turned to little snippets of memory, screams, people begging for mercy, though these were not from when he turned on the Triumvirate, but from his service to the order, acts of ‘justice’ he had carried out in the name of the Jedi. With these visions the rage burned with a new fire, surging again, but differently, with new purpose, but purpose or not, it continued to burn him up, pushing to the edge of his ability to contain it.

<You can’t contain it!> Nyavi’s tone changed as Issac’s emotions spiraled out of control. <Kikalekku, you men! Don’t you see? Don’t you understand that this is what makes the Jedi control so fucked up?> Her own fear was replaced by anger, and… pity. <Your connection to the Dark Side is strong because it feeds off your emotions! You feel guilty, you feel hurt, you feel angry, and you SHOULD! Yet you wrestle how you feel to the ground, because the only thing the Jedi taught you is how to suppress! Well, let me teach you a new lesson, sunshine. NO MORE!>

The stream of images changed. Dark grey hands and clothes wet with tears. With blood. Beating against the wall relentlessly as she screamed in fury. But also laughter. Sharing a drink with a friend. A night of furious lovemaking. Celebration in triumph at the results of an experiment. <You don’t contain your emotions! You feel them! Let them rip at you, tear at you, guide your hand, move your heart and mind! By bottling up you turn yourself into a volcano, and now you’re erupting and you don’t know how to direct it, what to do with everything you feel! What to do with all that control you’ve been taught all your life! Well, I know!> She manifested next to him in the void, the dark grey essence crackling with a light beautiful and terrible, like a matron and a queen and a friend and an enemy. Her voice thundered all around him as she spoke the final two words of her monologue to him. <LET THE FUCK GO!!>

Instead of any kind of response that could be understood in words, a low humming suddenly became audible. Slowly but steadily it grew in volume and intensity, and along with it, the dark mass that encompassed Issac's mind began to grow again, all the flashing images blurring into a growing light. Gradually the sound became clearer and began to take shape as something recognizable, a scream, full of pain, misery, fear and so much else. The louder and clearer it grew, the brighter the glow became, the more volatile the blue bolts arced. The pain wracking Issac's exhausted mind now began to fully bleed through to the Twi’lek in a deafening wave, with any remaining restraints on the darkness falling away, threatening to erupt at any moment. Almost at the tipping point, a small flicker of something else appeared for the briefest of moments, almost small and quiet enough to miss, uttering 2 words <Help me> in a voice sounding as exhausted as it was vulnerable. But as quickly as it appeared it was stamped out again, the same seething voice from before spitting out a single word <WEAKNESS>, and with that the darkness exploded outwards, violently and painfully ejecting Nyavi from Issac's mind.

Back in the station this eruption of energy was announced with a huge, uncontrolled burst of vibrant blue lightning emanating from Issac's unconscious form. Rocketing down the corridor, lancing painfully through anyone unlucky enough to be caught in its way, it blasted the Twi’lek into the wall and incinerated the clothing from Issac's extremities, leaving the flesh underneath scarred and burned. Then, just as soon as it started, the bolts of energy dissipated, leaving Issac out cold on the floor, his head lying in a pool of his own blood.

(Joint post of GardensTale and Farrell)

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