Star Wars:The Apprentice

I was dead. 

I should have been. 

No food. No water. No warmth. 

For *days*. 

My body should have given up. Should have *stopped*. 

But I was still breathing. 

Still *alive*. 

The dark side wouldn't let me die. 

I had been left in the pit with nothing. No weapons. No clothes. Just my own will and the Force. 

I had killed things down there. *Eaten* things down there. 

Creatures of the underworld—things that shouldn't exist, shouldn't *breathe*, but they did. And now they were gone, rotting corpses with their bones crushed, their bodies torn apart. 

I had done that. 

Me. 

Because if I hadn't, they would have eaten me first. 

But even now, as I climbed out of that hole—naked, starved, a walking corpse—I wasn't *dead*. 

I was something else. 

Something *worse*. 

Sidious stood at the edge of the pit, smiling as I crawled out. 

I hated him. 

I hated him more than anything in this cursed galaxy. 

But I stood. I didn't bow, didn't kneel. I just *stared*. 

His smile widened. 

"Good, my apprentice," he said. "You are ready." 

I wasn't sure if I *was* ready. 

But I would do it anyway. 

Because there was no other choice. 

Because there *was* no escape. 

Because if I had to suffer, then so would everything else. 

Sidious gestured, and there, floating before me, was the kyber crystal. 

Jorra Venn's crystal. 

I reached out. It was warm in my hands—pulsing, almost like a heartbeat. 

*No*, I thought. Not a heartbeat. 

A voice. 

**You don't have to do this.** 

The moment my fingers wrapped around it, my vision *shifted*. 

Suddenly, I wasn't on Coruscant. 

I wasn't in Sidious' chamber. 

I was home. 

My real home. 

The smell of my mother's perfume filled the air. My father's voice carried through the hallways. 

My siblings were there. 

All of them. 

They didn't see me. 

They were eating dinner, laughing, talking. 

Like I had never existed. 

Like they hadn't even *noticed* I was gone. 

**They don't care.** 

I took a step forward, reaching out— 

But the image shattered. 

Now I was somewhere else. 

A Jedi Temple. 

I stood in the center of the hall, draped in robes of white and beige. A lightsaber hung at my side. 

A *blue* lightsaber. 

Obi-Wan Kenobi stood before me, smiling. 

Anakin was there too. Ahsoka. Plo Koon. 

I was one of them. 

A Jedi. 

A hero. 

A *good* person. 

I could still have this. 

I could *run*. 

I could *fight back*. 

I could escape Sidious, betray him, *be better*. 

I could be *free*. 

But then I remembered the pit. 

The cold. 

The hunger. 

The pain. 

And I knew the truth. 

**There is no escape.** 

Sidious would *find* me. 

He would *hunt* me. 

He would *drag* me back. 

And if he didn't? 

Then someone else would. 

The Jedi wouldn't take me in. 

They would look at me and see what I was. 

A killer. 

A monster. 

Not a Jedi. 

Never a Jedi. 

The kyber crystal *fought* me. 

I could feel it resisting, pushing back, *begging* me to stop. 

It showed me more. 

Visions of what I could be. 

Visions of *hope*. 

Of light. 

I clenched my fist around the crystal. 

I didn't *want* hope. 

Hope was a lie. 

Hope was for people who *deserved* it. 

I had nothing but pain. 

Nothing but *hate*. 

I poured everything into the crystal. 

My anger. 

My hatred. 

My *fear*. 

And the crystal *screamed*. 

It screamed and screamed and *screamed*. 

I could *feel* it breaking. 

It was alive. 

And I was *killing* it. 

The pain was unbearable, but I *pushed harder*. 

I *forced* the dark side into it. 

I didn't let it fight. 

Didn't let it win. 

Didn't let it *breathe*. 

The crystal bled. 

I watched as the light faded. 

As the blue twisted into crimson. 

As the warmth *died*. 

I opened my fist, breathing heavily. 

It was over. 

The crystal was *mine*. 

I took the hilt of Jorra Venn's saber, sliding the corrupted kyber crystal into its place. 

And then— 

I ignited it. 

The chamber was bathed in a deep, violent red. 

The color of death. 

Of hatred. 

Of *me*. 

Behind me, Sidious was smiling. 

And clapping. 

"Kneel." 

Sidious' voice was quiet, but it *commanded*. 

I hesitated for a fraction of a second. Some part of me—some distant, hollowed-out part—*hated* the idea of kneeling to him. But I dropped down anyway, pressing one knee against the cold, polished floor. 

I had no choice. 

Sidious extended a hand, and my lightsaber wrenched itself from my grip, floating toward him. He caught it with a casual flick of his fingers, inspecting the hilt before his gaze drifted to the kyber crystal hidden within. 

His eyes gleamed. 

He could *feel* it. The pain. The suffering. The dark side twisting and burning inside the crystal, warping what had once been pure. 

He ignited the blade. 

A deep red hue flooded the chamber, reflecting against his pale, withered skin. He turned it slowly, admiring the sinister glow, before deactivating it and letting the hilt drift lazily back toward me. 

I caught it without a word. 

Sidious smiled. 

"You have done well, my apprentice," he said. "You have proven yourself worthy." 

I stayed silent, head bowed, waiting for the words I *knew* were coming. 

"This is a momentous occasion," Sidious continued, stepping forward. His voice was rich with dark amusement, with satisfaction. "For years, I have shaped you. Broken you. Forged you into something far greater than the weak, pitiful boy you once were." 

His hand rested atop my head. 

"You are no longer Adam." 

A shiver ran through my spine. 

"You are no longer the scared child who clung to his pathetic dreams of heroism, who yearned for the love of a family that never cared for him." His fingers curled, gripping my hair. "You are stronger than that. *Better* than that." 

His other hand lifted, palm hovering just above my forehead. 

"You are my creation. My weapon. My *Sith*." 

The Force *boiled* in the air, crackling, whispering, twisting around us. 

"I name you—" 

The moment *stretched*, the entire galaxy seeming to hang in the space between his words. 

"—**Darth Venator.**" 

The name sank into me like a blade. 

Darth Venator. 

It tasted bitter and sharp, foreign yet familiar, as if it had always been a part of me, waiting to be spoken aloud. 

Sidious released his grip. 

"Rise." 

I stood. 

The second I did, I felt *different*. 

Lighter. 

Darker. 

More whole. 

More *empty*. 

Darth Venator. 

I was no longer Adam. 

I was *this*. 

A Sith Lord. 

I lifted my head, meeting Sidious' gaze. 

The yellow of his eyes burned with triumph. With satisfaction. With *ownership*. 

And then, I turned my head slightly—to the man standing just a few feet away. 

Dooku. 

His expression was unreadable. Cold. Calculating. 

But I could see the *curiosity* behind his gaze. 

He was studying me. 

Judging me. 

I wondered what he saw. 

A tool? A rival? A curiosity? 

Or just another pawn in Sidious' grand game? 

I let my new name settle over me, let the weight of it press down against my shoulders, before shifting my gaze back to my master. 

Sidious gave me a pleased nod, his grin widening. 

"Come," he said, turning on his heel, his robes sweeping the floor as he moved toward the exit. "We have much to do." 

I followed.