(EM Vol. 3: Melodies of the Force) Chapter 30: Thoughts and Quests

Chapter 30: Thoughts and Quests

21 BBY, Dathomir

Savage opened his eyes, and the first thing that he felt was pain. And yet, that pain was quickly overwhelmed by power, one unlike what he had felt before. He looked around and saw the traces of green glows that surrounded him, which often accompanied the Nightsisters’ magicks, one that he had learned to fear since his childhood. After all, Savage was born a Nightbrother of Dathomir, and as such, it was often known that to earn the attention of the Nightsisters was to invite doom.

And yet, Savage did not remember what he had done to earn their attention. He only remembered… “Feral!”

The Zabrak sat up suddenly, and rage came to him easier than it ever had before. It was almost bubbling around him, the various instruments around him. No, they were actually shaking, rumbling. He faintly saw something move next to him, and his instinctive reaction was to attack it, only for the green mist to appear, and a voice spoke up with an amused tint, “You have much rage in you, Savage Opress. Good.”

Savage recognised that voice. He doubted that any Nightbrother or Nightsister would not, with the distinctive, countless whispers echoing with every word, and so he found himself bowing his head in instinct, “I apologise, Great Mother. It will not happen again.”

“No,” Mother Talzin echoed with certainty, “It will not.”

Savage finally looked around and saw that he was alone in a room with the Great Mother, and asked the question that had been on the tip of his tongue, “What… What happened?”

“What do you last remember?” Mother Talzin asked.

His eyes closed for a few moments. “There was a Rancor attack. The others... They fled to the village. They left my brother, Feral, and me to face it alone. He… He did not survive.”

Life on Dathomir had always been dangerous, and that included its fauna. However, recently, most creatures began to act erratically. They were more violent, on edge. It had made hunting for food difficult, but it was the larger and more dangerous creatures that had become even more so, especially the Rancors.

Savage’s village had not asked the Nightsisters’ help, of course. After all, they would be hunted for showing such weakness, and there was little that happened in Dathomir that the witches did not know of anyway.

“And what did you do after?” The Great Mother asked, breaking him from his thoughts.

After?

Savage did not remember what came after. He only remembered holding his brother’s corpse in his arms as he gasped his last breaths, not wanting to leave him alone.

But what did come after that?

After his brother’s death, he remembered the sadness, the grief… He remembered the rage. It was like a red haze that overtook him. He remembered barely more than small, brief memories, ones that painted an undeniable picture, to which he said, “I killed them all.”

He had killed the Rancor first, with a strength that he did not think he had. He jumped on its back and snapped its neck. He had not cared then that it was impossible, that trying to match such a beast with pure strength was the height of folly. He had only wanted it to hurt, and somehow, it did.

Savage had then walked the village, in this same haze of pure hatred. He had tracked down the cowards who had left him and his brother to die and had torn them to shreds. He had slaughtered those who had attempted to stop him. He did not remember everything, for everything was cloudy, but he remembered the screams, the burning.

He felt the same rage settle inside him as the Great Mother spoke up, “You did. Tell me, Son of Dathomir, did you regret it?”

Did he regret it? The Savage from… before, Feral’s brother, would have been saddened at the sight of dead Nightbrothers. But that Savage was weak then, too weak to save his brother, too weak to kill the Rancor, and now Feral was no more. These people… His kin were traitors, ones that deserved no mercy, for they offered his brother none when they ran.

“No,” came the Zabrak’s immediate answer, “They were weak, cowards, who ran when they should have fought.”

“Good,” The Great Mother answered, “Weaklings have no place on Dathomir, and you, Savage Opress, are weak no longer. The Nightsisters found you in the ruins of your village, half-dead from your injuries. They brought you to me, thinking you little more than a beast to be brought down. I disagreed, for I saw the truth. In your rage, you have broken your chains.”

Savage patted down his chest, suddenly remembering his injuries, then, only to see no sign of them, “You healed me.”

“I have. You are also strengthened by our magicks, made to be a warrior greater than any Nightbrother that has come before you.”

“Why?” Savage asked.

Savage’s question lingered in the chamber; he did not understand why the Great Mother had chosen to strengthen him. And he was stronger; that was something that the Zabrak could feel. He felt the power beneath his rage, ready to be unleashed for everyone to see, a power that made him feel invincible.

But he knew that the witches of Dathomir were rarely merciful, let alone the Great Mother. She chuckled at that, echoes following her voice endlessly, before answering, “Power like yours should never be wasted, Savage. And you have a great destiny to fulfil, after all.”

“Destiny? What destiny?” Savage growled back, “My kin are dead. My brother is dead. My village is ash. I have nothing. What destiny could there possibly be left for me?”

The Zabrak was practically heaving near the end of his rant, his hatred ready to spill out. The Great Mother then walked towards him, her steps smooth, and touched his shoulder.

Savage felt his very rage stiffen, as if it was focused away from Mother Talzin and the Nightsisters. Then, she answered, “You have power, and those with great power know great destinies. And you shall fulfil yours, Savage Opress, as a Son of Dathomir.”

The Zabrak saw a brief green glow in the corner of his eyes as he registered the Great Mother’s words, and he felt a sense of urgency fill him, a need of a sort that he needed to satisfy, “Then what is my destiny, Mother?”

Mother Talzin’s eyes glowed for a few moments, and he saw her lips morph into a smirk, “Your destiny is intertwined with that of another.”

“Who?” he asked.

“Your brother,” she answered.

His brother?

Savage was confused by her words. Was Mother Talzin taunting him with Feral’s death? Quickly grief and confusion made their way to rage, and he looked at the most powerful witch on Dathomir and growled at her, “My brother is dead.”

“He is,” Mother Talzin confirmed, “But he is not the brother of whom I speak.”

The Zabrak’s golden eyes widened in shock, “You say that I have another brother.”

The Nightsister looked away for this moment, looking through the window into the distance, her eyes strangely distant, “Yes. He was lost long ago, taken by a treacherous shadow, beyond my reach for so long. But he is lost no longer.”

As Savage’s surprise grew with her words, she continued, “You have suffered great tragedy, Savage Opress, but greatness often comes from tragedy, and even if you have lost a brother, you will find another. You have grown stronger, but with him, you can grow even more powerful. But first, you need to find him and bring him to me, for he shall become a son of Dathomir once more. Only then will you be able to fulfil your destiny.”

A part of him ached to see the void that Feral left be filled. He knew then and there that he wanted to meet his brother, to speak with him at the very least, and the idea of growing even stronger, even more powerful, was one that he liked… a lot.

Yes, he would find his brother. He would bring him back to Dathomir, just as Mother Talzin ordered, and they would grow stronger together and fulfil their destiny. He felt a sense of purpose settle inside him, one that burned alongside the rage that was constantly bubbling since he awoke. He could feel it inside him, the whispers that this was what he was meant to do.

He turned towards Mother Talzin and asked, “Where is he, Mother?”

Mother Talzin smiled at his acceptance and waved her hand. Green mist began to fill the entire room, and from its depths, a large glass ball formed and began to float. The witch then began to chant, and the torches that illuminated the room flared, and Savage Opress found himself awed by the display, for he could feel the power of her dark magicks.

She then put her hand within the mist, touching the glowing glass orb, and exclaimed, “Maul!”

As if it were obeying her command, the mist began to morph into distinct shapes. Savage quickly recognised the sight of a Zabrak, one with crimson skin and familiar tattoos of a Nightbrother.

He could feel it then, that this was truly his brother.

Maul had been what the Nightsister had called him, and it felt right. Mother Talzin had not lied to him; he was not alone.

The Great Mother then continued to chant once more, and some of the mist began to shift slightly, and she said with confidence, “Mandalore. You will go to Mandalore and return your brother to where he belongs.”

Mother Talzin’s words resonated deep into Savage’s mind. He could feel them endlessly echoing within him, a mission of great importance, the beginning of the great destiny that awaited him, of the great power that he would one day hold.

Just then, the mist began to shift, moving erratically, and his brother’s face disappeared. He looked towards Mother Talzin, and from the shock on her face, he knew that this was not her doing. For one, the mist itself began to lose its colour, becoming almost silver in its nature.

Mother Talzin then scowled and then conjured green blasts of energy towards the uncontrolled magicks, and whatever was occurring fought back. The Nightsister's blasts fought against the growing silver mist, which resisted for a few moments before flaring in intensity and exploding.

The shockwave alone sent him and Mother Talzin flying back, though the Nightsister used her magicks to land upright and stare at the remnant of her spell.

Savage stood up immediately to see the silver mist gather itself once more, looking vaguely like a face that looked at them in interest, before focusing on the Nightsister, and saying, “I see you…”

The voice was smooth and said the words slowly, but there was no mistaking the amusement in its tone, one that made shivers run down Savage’s spine. The voice itself echoed around the room, and he was sure that it could be heard from miles away, such was its intensity.

Mother Talzin growled at that before she put her hands up and released two bolts of blinding green lightning that attacked the silver mist. The lightning hit the mist with an impact that created a shockwave that sent Savage flying back, pinned against the wall.

The Nightsister, however, stayed where she was, her clothes constantly ruffled by the wind generated by the continuous impact between her attack and the mist. There was a visible strain, and she growled as she walked forward, struggling against an invisible force, before she reached the mist itself, and her bolts of lightning turned into a sudden flame that suddenly lit up the room in a green flash.

Then Savage felt the force pinning him to the wall disappear, and he looked to the middle of the half-destroyed room, as the silver mist disappeared. The Nightsister almost stumbled forward, but stood up later, and he noticed that her breathing was heavier than it was earlier, but that did not last for long.  

The entire room was silent, a tension, at least that was before the floating orb of glass began to crack and shatter into a thousand pieces, dissipating into green mist once more, showing that what occurred was finally over.

Mother Talzin was staring at the wisps of green mist that faded away like smoke, with an unreadable expression on her face, as if she was seeing something in them that he simply could not.

Savage, in the meantime, righted himself up and looked at Mother Talzin with shock in his eyes, and maybe even some fear, “What… What was that?”

Mother Talzin’s tone was noticeably colder when she answered this time, “Nothing that concerns you, Savage.” Just as he prepared to protest, she gently tapped his forehead with her fingers and said, “You have a mission to complete, do you not?”

Savage Opress felt the details of the last few minutes turn hazy, being overwhelmed by the rage cultivated within him, though a hint of fear still remained, a fear whose origin he could not explain, nor put into words anymore. No, Mother Talzin was right, he should focus on his mission. Finding Maul, finding his brother, was much more important.

He would go to Mandalore and bring his wayward brother back to Dathomir, where he belonged.

And so, the Zabrak felt himself kneel down as he accepted the question, “I will not disappoint you, Mother.”

[---]

Harry Potter felt himself blink slightly as he felt the connection dissipate, feeling slightly disappointed at the fact. He shook his head at that, “That was so rude. I only wanted to say hello.”

The wizard ignored Maul’s baffled look at his action. Then again, from his perspective, he did look into the sky for a few moments before muttering about rudeness, so that was warranted. He would learn eventually; HK-47 wasn’t even phased by anything that he did anymore.

Anyway, ever since he had come to this galaxy, people have been so rude. Is common courtesy not a thing here or something? Maybe he shouldn’t have tried to be cheeky by telling whoever had forged the connection that he could see what they were doing.

But then again, they were trying to scry Maul using the Force, and honestly, the way that they did it was pretty neat and very much different from the Jedi or Sith. He’ll have to go there and take a look around. There was bound to be interesting stuff to see and learn.

What was he doing again? Ah, yes, Mandalore.

A small smile grew on his face; this was going to be fun. He could almost feel it.

AN: I had a lot of fun writing this chapter. As I said before, I’m still getting the hang of writing a Star Wars story, so bear with me if anything feels off.

This chapter is a bit on the shorter side, but I thought that an interlude was warranted, especially since I needed to set up a few things in Dathomir and introduce Savage before going to Mandalore. I was tempted to write this chapter from Mother Talzin's POV, but I felt like it would have spoiled a lot of what I have planned in the Dathomir arc in the future. There is something urging her to do this, which I'll reveal later properly.

As you probably realised, a lot of his thought process is being subtly influenced by Mother Talzin, who pushed him towards the quest to find Maul, as well as some Dark Side corruption. I tried to show it a bit by repeating a few ideas about growing stronger and hating weakness in Savage's head, but I'm not sure it came out just right. Still, I know that this was a little slow, but we should get back to Harry in the next chapter.

As usual, I don’t mind rewriting this chapter depending on your feedback, so please let me know what you think and if you have any suggestions.