CHAPTER ONE . . . USUL

━━━━━ IT WAS A FEW HOURS PAST DAWN WHEN THE SKY BROKE APART AND FLAMES CAME HURTLING DOWN FROM THE CLOUDS. Something flew through the air, reflecting the sun back into Anakin's eyes as if he was staring straight into it. A line of smoke was left behind in its wake as it rushed towards the ground, fire dancing off of it in sparks.

   Chattering echoed across the desert, families pushing past each other and out of their houses to catch a glimpse of the sky. Villagers rustled about, crying out in fear, screaming to each other in confusion. Anakin's dark eyes stayed focused on the sight until it vanished on the other side of the dunes, no longer visible to his or his people's eyes.

A ship. From the sky. He was sure of it. It was not a well known fact that there were survivors living in space, but he had personally seen the historical records predating the apocalypse. He knew of the space stations the circled the Earth, just as the sacred witches of the coalition knew of them, yet refused to share that knowledge with the common man.

His own clan called out to him, many rushing his way with anxiety riddling their bones.

"Mahdi! Dej yu see? Chit was em?"

"A meteor shower?"

"Another one?"

"It looked close, Mahdi. Should we send a search?"

He didn't have time to offer them lies and feed them reassurances. He needed to get to a map, find out where the shuttle had landed. Everyone within a hundred miles would've seen that ship crash from the sky, and he didn't doubt he would be receiving correspondence regarding it as soon as the heda was informed.

"That won't be necessary. I'll discuss it with my advisor. I'm sure it was nothing to be worried about, and until we know otherwise, please go about your tasks. There's much to do."

Shaking his head at the villagers, he held his hands out placatingly, rushing out his quick response, claiming that he would find some sort of explanation. The boy disappeared quickly to his own tent, where he dug through his belongings in search of a personal map he'd created as a boy.

He knew his mentor, Circe, would be close behind him, but he decided to prioritize his charting over their inevitable conversation about the spacecraft. He focused his eyes on the map, attempting to calculate the distance at which the ship would have landed at its predicted speed and angle. He'd had just enough time to make some sort of estimate, though he was sure to be off by a few degrees. Still, any hunch as to where the shuttle may have landed would be helpful in ensuring his people's safety.

Sure enough, less than two minutes after his own arrival, Circe stormed into the tent and immediately began pacing up and down the space, watching him with unsettling eyes. Her fingers twitched at her sides, anxiety practically spilling off her in waves. Her dark skin was shiny with sweat, dirt clinging to her fingernails as she tapped them to her thigh. Her dark hair was tied into a braid, curls dangling in loose bangs across her forehead.

Anakin simply stared at his map, eyes following a river upstream and towards Mount Weather. He traced the path with his fingers, catching dust between his knuckles until he found the spot he was looking for. The boy grasped a knife, pricking the tip of his finger. Once the blood welled from his skin, he drew a circle around his map.

That was the vicinity where the ship would have landed. About fifteen miles from Mount Weather, three miles from the nearest Trikru village, twenty three miles from Tondc, and just under seventy miles from his desert. Seventy miles from his clan, his people.

   That was the bright side, at least. Still, he knew they weren't exactly in the clear. The ship was nowhere near them, yes, but it was near the Commander, and she would want meetings with each of the clans' leaders. Especially Anakin, considering his status.

   He wouldn't be able to help her this time.

Shuffling behind him caught his ears, finally. The young boy spun on his heal, pinning his mentor with a look that immediately made her still in respect. She ducked her head in acknowledgement, and he nodded back. She wasn't his superior anymore, but he still held her in high regard.

"Speraken." His voice cut through the air, lacking it's usually hostility.

Circe could tell such hostility was close behind, however, and she knew their conversation would escalate mere moments in. That was his way—predictable behavior.

"That was no meteor." She announced. "You know just as well as I do that there are people living in the sky. She is going to call a meeting. She will request your presence, Anakin."

As expected, the boy huffed, pinching his nose bridge between his fingers. "I can't go. You will go in my place."

   "I am not a chief. She will not speak with me."

   "You're Bene Gesserit. She will have to hear you. Besides, I can't go south." He insisted, turning back to his map. His shoulders were tense, rigid posture indicating his unease with the direction of the conversation.

   "Why?"

   "You know why."

   Flashes of war danced through his vision. Burned corpses lining the forest floor, blood soaking his hands, a head of black hair matted with dirt and mud, a crysknife clutched in his fist, a wound in his chest left by a weapon.

   "You cannot avoid them forever."

   "Watch me." Anakin scoffed, marking his map with symbols one again. 

   "The Reverend Mother has requested your presence for the Test. I can only stall her for so long, and the time is fast approaching where you must undergo it to take your rightful place." Circe pressed, stepping forward and around the table until he was forced to look at her, forced to acknowledge her presence.

   The boy scoffed, licking at his thumb to rid it of the blood. "Superstition. Fictitious and fanatical ideals."

   "You doubt yourself." She accused.

   "I don't believe in a false religion." Asserted the teenager, though they both knew there was truth in her statement. Even he would admit that he once believed in the Prophecy, but he had never been fully convinced of his place in it.

   "It is not false. They believe the One is near. They believe the One is you. Years of preparation has led to this."

   Anakin sighed in exasperation, running a hand through his hair. Years of hearing about the prophecy had done his head in. He refused to participate in such ridiculous ideals, ones that kept his people and the other clans under the thumb of the Bene Gesserit. They'd planted seeds of religion into their society years ago, and said seeds had recently blossomed into fruition. The people expected a leader, the messiah, their savior who would free them from the radiation soaked planet of Earth before the next wave of judgement.

   He couldn't pretend to be that leader. Not when he knew the true purpose of the sacred witches that controlled the clans. The Bene Gesserit were liars, and he needed his people to realize it.

   He rolled the map up into a scroll, tucking it under his arm as he turned to leave the tent.  "I'm not the One, Circe." He reminded her, the slightest hint of desperation in his words.

It was difficult, being constantly expected to save an entire race when he believed he couldn't. Yes, he possessed some Bene Gesserit abilities, making him the closest thing to the Kwisatz Haderach that they had ever seen, but that wasn't the same as being the One. The One was supposed to come after his time, but his mother disobeyed the Bene Gesserit in an attempt to create the messiah herself. The jury was still out on whether or not she'd succeeded, but Anakin didn't want to believe that she had. He was barely capable of leading his small clan. Allowing him to rule over the human race would be their undoing.

   Anakin pulled back the flap of his tent, squinting into the sunlight as he entered the open air. Circe followed behind him closely, always the persistent mentor.

   "They recognize the signs in you. The clans have waited centuries for your arrival."

   "They've waited centuries for a lie told by the Bene Gesserit." He continued on his path, doing his best to ignore her words as he made his way toward the collection of huts in the near distance, where many desert villagers huddled together in discussion. They noted his presence, bowing their heads, which he returned in earnest.

   "You will go south." Circe persisted.

   "No. I will send messengers if that is the alternative to you going in my place. I refuse to step foot in that village."

   "Anakin!" She glared. "This is your path. You must go. Speak with the commander. Avoid the Reverend Mother if you must, but speak with your heda, at least."

   Anakin groaned internally, rolling his eyes outwardly as he quickened his pace towards the villagers. He paused on the edge of their huddle, listening idly to their conversation. Conversation that paused, however, in his presence.

   "Mahdi." A woman, slightly older than Circe in age nearly folded in half to kneel at his feet.

   He couldn't recognize her by name, though he had seen her before throughout the desert. His clan was one of the smallest, but he still managed to forget names of those he didn't fight with frequently. Frankly, the only people he knew the names of were his warriors: the Fedaykin.

   "Beja. Stand." Anakin denied her, grasping her elbow to prevent her descension. She stared in shock at his hand against her arm, looking as though she may fall backwards in surprise. He didn't bother reminding the woman that he wasn't the Mahdi. They all knew how he felt about such things, yet they still insisted upon the title for him despite his discomfort.

"I came to speak with you all." It went unsaid that he was actually there for the Fedaykin, who made up the majority of the group.

   "What can we do for you, Anakin?" A local man named Nabil asked. He was much older than him and nearly one of the eldest in the village, which was rather sad considering he was barely sixty.

   Nabil was a gray haired, burly man. He had deeply tanned skin, a trait shared among many but not all of Sangedakru. His face was slim, with a curved nose and a beard just as gray as his head covering his jaw and chin. His eyes were identical to the rest of the clan's, a startling blue given to them via exposure to radiation in the Dead Zone.

   He maintained a strong physique, which was actually quite impressive given his age, and he was considered the best fighter of the Fedaykin—behind Anakin himself, of course. He was one of the trusted leaders of the warriors. Anakin often assigned him to manage their military in his absence, though he was rarely absent for extended periods. Still, he trusted Nabil almost unconditionally. His one fault was his unyielding faith in the Prophecy. It made it difficult to speak to him as an equal sometimes, since he was very aware of Anakin's position in life and believed himself to be inferior because of it.

"I'd like for you to send a team to Tondc. I need someone to give them a message."

"Mahdi, surely they would prefer to hear this from you over one of your villagers. Should you not go yourself?" Nabil replied cautiously.

"I can't go south." Anakin simply answered. "One of your Fedaykin will take my message, and Circe will accompany them to the heda's counsel."

"I will do no such thing." The woman in question snapped from behind him, forcing the boy to spin around. He fixed her with a glare, raising his chin pridefully. "Do not dare to look at me in such a way. You may be the chief of this clan, but I knew you as a boy. You are not as strong as you wish others to believe."

"And you are not as smart as you would have them believe if you still have faith in the Bene Gesserit." Anakin retorted spitefully, returning his gaze to Nabil. "You may choose the warriors assigned to the task, but I need them ready by dawn at the latest."

   "Of course, Usul." The man whispered his second name.

   War names were common for Fedaykin—Anakin had originally been Fedaykin before his ascension to chief—but were only to be used by those you trusted most. Names had power, Sangedakru believed, and it was not seen as intelligent to spread your warrior title across the clan, lest it make it to the forest or Ice Nation in hushed whispers that told of glory in battle. That was the quickest way to become a target in war or the inevitable infighting that took place constantly amongst the coalition.

   With Nabil's confirmation, Anakin nodded and marched away, still with his mentor on his heels.

   "You cannot send a Fedaykin of all people in your place to Tondc. You know this." She proclaimed.

   "You say Fedaykin like a curse, Circe."

   "They are not respected in the south."

   "It seems like they're not respected by you, actually." Anakin scowled distastefully.

   He didn't take kindly to anyone looking down their noses at the Fedaykin. When he was young, they took him in as an outsider and raised him as their own. As far as he was concerned, they were his family. Not only that, but they were great fighters—likely the best in the entire coalition, if past recreational Conclaves or kill counts in battle were anything to go by.

   "Yes, well, I am from the south." Circe mocked. Her temper was rising, that much was clear in her pinched tone and the way her gait became heavier with each stomp after him.

   "You're not in the south. You'd do well to remember that those Fedaykin that you see as beneath you, are the majority here. They wouldn't appreciate your air of superiority."

   "Do not speak to me as though you are wise. You are a child. I am your advisor." She hustled after him, his long legs carrying him farther and faster than she could move. "You will go south."

   He shook his head animatedly, fists clenched at his sides. His hair blew in the wind, sand whipping through the air and catching on his loose strands. He felt the fabric of his clothing catching in the wind as well, though he paid it no mind as he attempted to lose Circe.

   "Stop."

Her voice came out with a wicked undertone, as if she was speaking from the very back of her throat and grinding her vocal cords together to produce the scratchy, itch inducing sound.

   Anakin's body went tight as he halted in place. A shudder wracked his body, though he didn't move an inch as the intense discomfort filled his veins. His feet imprinted themselves in the sand, his hands still forming fists but now lacking their previous tremor as he contained his irritation. The boy's blue eyes twitched incessantly with his attempts to exert any sort of energy.

   He couldn't move as Circe circled him like prey, an unimpressed look on her face as she rounded on him. Her eyes looked him up and down, and he suddenly felt naked, as though she was picking him apart piece by piece. She studied him as if he was a speck of sand in her black hair.

   The Voice was a powerful tool used only by advanced Bene Gesserit. The witches were able to control and influence the actions of those uninitiated into the sisterhood through the tonal qualities of their speech. Most of the time, it was used to trick politicians into doing things they deemed undesirable. Rarely, it was used in war, though Bene Gesserit didn't think lowly enough of themselves to fight in battles alongside coalition warriors. They preferred to do their work from the inside, behind closed doors.

    Over time, one could condition themself to be immune to the Voice, though it was an ability that was hardly ever found these days. Most notably, the only one who could do it was Indra, a Trikru leader and second to the heda. The heda herself didn't even possess this potential, though she had tried to resist the Voice's influence for many years. Anakin himself was on track to becoming immune, but he still struggled when caught off guard.

   "How dare you use the Voice on me." He hissed, glued to his spot.

   "You will go south if and when the heda requests your presence." She released her hold on him, allowing him to stumble forward and into her awaiting arms where she steadied him. She placed her hands on his shoulders and held him at arms length. "You will allow the Bene Gesserit to perform the Test, and you will pass it."

   "How can you be sure of that?" Anakin glared.

   "You are afraid." Her face suddenly softened, her motherly instincts forcing her to sympathize with the boy she had raised as her own. She knew him too well.

   "I'm skeptical." He denied.

   "You are afraid, Usul."

   Her insistence took root in him, their gazes piercing into one another. Hers was determined, if not a little bit understanding. His was desperate, if not a little bit hesitant. He never could hide anything from her.

   The boy released the tension in his shoulders, strings cut. He shuddered, confirmation enough of her words.

   "You cannot afford to be. The Test requires focus. You will pass if you have faith." Circe rubbed a hand up and down his arm reassuringly.

   "I don't have faith."

He knew that to fail the Test would mean death. To pass the Test would mean he was on the path to becoming the closest thing the Bene Gesserit would have to their messiah. He didn't know which outcome he would prefer.

   "You will pass, Anakin. The Reverend Mother sees you. She would not bother with the Test if she did not think you had potential. Prove her right."

"The fundamentalists—."

"Will be in Tondc, yes, but they will not bother you."

He met her eyes skeptically, staring her down. Circe's gaze was unwavering as she held his shoulders, face relaxed yet somehow still stern, her posture perfect but somehow lax. She held no trepidation in her eyes, no hesitance.

Anakin breathed in, breathed out. He closed his eyes, flashes dancing behind his eyelids of faces in a crowd staring at him in awe, his eyes peaking between cloths that protected him from the sun, his body seated at the head of a table. He took another breath, and when he opened his eyes, there was only a steely resolve.

"I must not fear."

   He would leave for Tondc the next morning.

彡

   He didn't even make it to morning before the Commander's scouts came riding through his desert, an unmanned horse accompanying them. The fire lit in the middle of the village was still blazing with dull embers as the warriors made their way through the dunes, sand whipping in the wind. No doubt, it was getting in their eyes; Anakin was sure of it.

He could see them squinting harshly as they rode his way in a futile attempt to protect their corneas from the grains of the desert that were being kicked up with the weather. Luckily, they weren't in the deeper desert, where the sand was less compact and more likely to scratch at your face if you lacked proper protection, which the scouts did. They were dressed in traditional Trikru clothing, with black, brown, and dark green clothing that stuck tightly to their frames. Their face masks were decorative, with no realistic purpose being served.

While Trikru dressed to camouflage into the forest—their greens and browns melding with the sage of the trees and the darkness of the soil beneath their feet—Sangedakru dressed to blend with the desert. Their gear was tan, white, and gray, and they wore tight suits with breezy accessories to help them merge with the sand that crashed along the earth. The masks they wore on their face were actually useful, unlike those of their brothers from the forest. The thickness of them protected from the harsh conditions of the desert, and the cloths they wore around their heads kept their hair from matting with dirt.

All in all, you could see the difference between a Trikru warrior and a Desert Clan member from a mile away. The Trikru fumbled through the dunes as if they were afraid of being swallowed whole by sand worms, while Sangedakru glided across the village as though they were one with the creatures that inhabited their territory. They did not flinch at the gentle tremor of the sand beneath their feet, but rather welcomed it as their Forest Clan friends scattered like desert mice.

The scouts eventually made their way to the center of the village, where Anakin and his people sat huddled around a fire, exchanging their Fedaykin tales of war and victory. Nabil was animatedly discussing a journey which he had undertaken the previous month, in which he disrupted their enemy's work in the northern deserts. He paused quickly, however, as soon as he recognized the common garb of the Trikru warriors beside him.

"Anakin kom Sangedakru." One of them announced, "the heda requests your presence in Tondc."

Anakin blew out a breath, but stayed still and stared a moment longer at the fire. He momentarily wondered if they would drag him there if he refused. He doubted they were given clearance to do such a thing. He and the Commander were close, friends since childhood, and he fully believed she would kill any one of these men if they even attempted to lay a hand on him. However, many warriors took their orders from the heda's second, Indra, who took her orders the Commander herself, which meant it was a roll of the dice. These men could leave him alone, or they could take him to Tondc by whatever means necessary under Indra's orders, and pay the price of their lives at the Commander's hand when she discovered it.

"Mahdi. We must leave now." The same warrior insisted, bowing his head respectfully. An indicator that the Commander had given the order directly, after all. They weren't allowed to touch him. They were here as warriors, yes, but were religious fanatics all the same.

The boy's eyes met Circe's from across the fire pit. She stared him down with a fierceness he'd only glimpsed in the howling of the wind and the thundering of sand worms breaking through the dunes. She nodded at him once, curt, and that was it.

He glanced away, sighed, and got to his feet reluctantly. Anakin rolled back his shoulders and took in a deep breath. Visions danced behind his eyelids as they closed, but he pushed them away harshly and snapped open his eyes, exhaling. Turning to the scouts, he nodded.

"Just a moment." He said.

The scouts nodded, wisely shuffling back to their horses to wait for him to tie his loose ends. In their absence, Anakin shifted his gaze to his clan, who all watched him with curiosity and awe.

"Nabil. Take your Fedaykin to the north. You will lead the expeditions in my place while I am gone." The man in question nodded. "Circe, you will act as chief here until I return."

The dark skinned woman climbed to her full height, stepping up to Anakin. She gazed upon him proudly, chin tilted up while his stayed down.

"You must do everything the Reverend Mother tells you to. This is the final test, Anakin. You will pass, or you shall die trying."

He exhaled harshly, shaking his head with his fists clenched beside him. Her fingers grazed his jaw, tilting his face to her, straightening his posture.

"Stand tall. You are a chief. You are a leader. Act like one. I raised you proud." Circe ordered. "Do not let them weaken you."

The teenager looked at her fully then. He saw the hint of desperation hidden behind her irises, and the slight crease of her brow. She was worried for him, and she was right to be.

He nodded once at her, then behind her to his village. "Do right by them."

"Of course, Usul." The older woman nodded back stubbornly.

With that, the boy spared one last glance to his clan—his family—before he spun on his heel and marched to his tent. He packed his bag quickly, having already placed most of his things aside earlier that morning. The boy ripped his map off the table, shoving it in his rucksack haphazardly. Soon, he emerged from his tent and rushed to the unaccompanied horse.

Anakin knew there wouldn't be that much time for him to cover his ground. Tondc was a bit over forty miles away from his clan, and the Commander would need him there before dawn broke. It would be close, but he anticipated a four hour journey, if the horse was well rested. Most likely, they had placed someone at the midpoint with a second horse to trade off with, in order to shorten the journey.

As he rode out of his village and across the dunes, cloth pulled over his mouth and nose, he turned back to his people one more time, giving them a final nod before he was ushered into darkness by the scouts ahead of him.

彡

   He was right about the second horse. The first half of the journey was quick, only an hour and forty two minutes, while the second half was a bit longer. Regardless, he'd made it to Tondc with a couple hours to spare before dawn.

   Anakin had expertly dodged questions from the scouts throughout the trip, claiming to need silence in order to organize his thoughts and—falsely—his visions of the future. Though it was far from the truth, it managed to make them shut up for the entirety of the expedition, which he was grateful enough for that he hardly felt bad about his fibbing.

   The boy kept his hood up and eyes down as he made his way through the city, though it did nothing to stop the murmurs of the townspeople as they identified his Desert Clan clothing. He stuck out like a sore thumb, especially when they noticed his blue eyes peeking from under his oversized hood. They whispered amongst themselves, some calling out to him in praise or prayer. He waved a hand at those few that did so. Anakin knew it wasn't their fault. They'd been conditioned to believe these things by the Bene Gesserit, but it wasn't his cross to bare.

   They made it to the Commander's homestead in no time. Anakin was quick to jump down from horseback as soon as he saw Indra posted outside the small building that contained their leader.

   He nodded to her respectfully, "Indra."

   "Anakin." Her voice was level, but he could still see the slight curiosity in her eyes. Not quite impressed, but also not repulsed by his potential existence as the prophet. She stared at him a moment before stepping to the side, gesturing to allow him entry. The boy tipped his head to her as he passed, eyeing her the whole way through the door.

   Anakin wasn't shocked to find the Commander sitting on her throne, a knife steadily twirled between her arm rest and fingertips. Her long cape draped to the floor over the arms of her chair. Her brown hair fell softly over her shoulders, tied up in a braided pattern on the top of her head. She was slouching, which was rather unusual for her, but he supposed she'd been there all night. She seemed bored. However, that quickly changed as she saw who had entered her sanctuary. Her eyes gleamed as she stood, rushing forward to the boy in excitement.

   "Anakin!" She did not hug him, nor did she smile, instead opting to grasp his hands in hers and squeeze as she pulled him close.

   "Heda." He bowed.

   She clicked her tongue, "come now, you know you don't need to call me that."

   Anakin's lips twitched at the corners. "Of course, Lexa."

   "Thank you for coming. I know the journey is not ideal."

   "Anything for you. You know that."

   Lexa's mouth curled into something almost joyful. She rarely smiled, something many chiefs and leaders of the clans shared in common. Emotion had been conditioned out of them at an early age, and was now reserved for only the closest of their friends and family. For Anakin, that was Circe and the Fedaykin. For Lexa, that was her closest ally, Gustus, and no one else.

   "Of course, you know why you're here." She finally released his hands, stepping back to her table that took up a majority of the space. Across it was a map with multiple markings. "We need to find the location of this ship."

   Anakin made his way to her side, placing his fingertips over the portion of her map that he'd circled on his own.

   "It's here. I've already calculated. Circe and I did so first thing this morning."

   "Of course you did." Lexa huffed amusedly. "Predictable as always, my friend."

   "I'm a creature of habit."

   "So they say," a pause, and then, "that is not all I need from you."

   Though he had expected it already, his eyebrow raised. "What can I do for you, Lexa?"

   "I would like a spy. Someone to go ahead to the crash site and see if there are any survivors. Find out what's in the ship; is it people, weapons, supplies? Whatever information we can get, I need."

   "Why me? You have plenty of qualified warriors at your disposal."

   "You know why. The prophecy says—."

   He couldn't contain the roll of his eyes.

   "Usul! You know what I need from you."

   "And what would that be?"

   Lexa stilled. Her hand twitched almost imperceptibly on the hilt of her sword. No one else would have noticed, but Anakin had known her since childhood. Her nervous ticks were engraved behind his eyes.

   The girl inhaled, then exhaled just as slowly. Her eyes closed, bracing for his reaction. When she opened them, they flickered behind him briefly.

   "I need you to—."

   "Child."

   A chilling voice made Anakin's posture go rigid, hand dropping from the table to his side as his back straightened to perfection. His eyes widened, and he looked at Lexa with nervousness shadowing his features. She did not move either, staring him down. Anakin's spine prickled with the eyes watching him from the doorway.

   Slowly, he turned around. Across from him stood the Reverend Mother, the leader of the Bene Gesserit. Her dark dress pooled at her ankles, while her headdress and veil hid her expression expertly, though Anakin knew the face underneath the fabric was a blank slate anyways. The woman held an aura of darkness as she seemed to glide across the room before placing herself in a nearby chair. In her hands rested a three sided box, which she placed upon one of the arms.

   Her voice was cold again when she spoke. "Leave us."

   It was directed to Lexa. The girl glanced back to Anakin, giving him a discreet nod and a gentle graze of her fingers on his own as she left the room. An attempt at comfort, though she couldn't possibly understand what would happen in the next few moments. She disappeared through the door with a click, and the sound of her combat boots stomping through the mud outside was all that was left in the silence.

   Anakin turned from the door, glaring heatedly at the Reverend Mother. "You dismiss the Commander in her own home."

   "Come here." The woman's voice cut through him like blades of shattered glass. His feet moved of their own accord. "Kneel."

   Anakin fell to his knees at her feet, looking up at her in slight disbelief. Closer to her now, he could see her haggard face. She was old, that was for certain. Her cheeks dropped with age, wrinkles pressing into the corners of her eyes and the lines of her forehead. She wore a frown that seemed as though it had been etched into her face for years, and her jaw had softened with time. Her eyes were cold, sinister as she looked at him as though he were a speck of dirt on her polished black shoes.

   "Put your right hand in the box." The Reverend Mother commanded.

   Anakin looked at her with eyes full of skepticism. He was unsure of what exactly the test entailed, though he knew it was painful. Excruciatingly so. Still, it was merely a box, and it appeared empty. Surely, there would be no reason to refuse her request, other than the fact that he simply wanted to.

   "Circe bade you obey me, did she not?" She questioned.

   His eye twitched, but his hand reluctantly reached into the opening of the box, where it rested carefully. Circe had told him to do this, so he would. She was his mentor, after all. She knew more of these practices than anyone else, having been closely associated with the Reverend Mother herself during her own training to become Bene Gesserit.

As the boy looked down to the box, the Reverend Mother's hand swept forward, lurching towards his neck. He startled, flinching to the side.

   "I hold at your neck, the Gom Jabbar." She claimed. "A poison needle. Instant death." She paused as though giving him a moment to protest, but continued when he only glared into her eyes. "The test is simple: remove your hand from the box, and you die."

   Anakin's gaze never wavered. He stared into her eyes as though he could force blood out of her eyes and ears until she collapsed at his feet.

   "What's in the box?" He grumbled harshly.

   "Pain." She answered, just as coldly.

AUTHOR'S NOTE. yay! i finally did something with this book! i think this was the worst chapter of something i've written since i was 13 and that's really saying something. tell me what you guys think, i'd love to see some comments on this and future chapters. i'm always up for some feedback. thanks for reading!

EDITING. this chapter has been rewritten but not edited btw, so ignore typos please. i will go back through all chapters and edit when i finish the book.

THANK YOU. tim.