The hallway was crowded, allowing for little freedom of movement and forcing the walker to give almost all of their attention to the task of not stepping on someone else’s toes. This was not something Tempest could concentrate on at the moment. A very familiar haze was beginning to cloud her vision, and she stumbled momentarily and bumped into someone as her sight blanked out completely.

“Are you all right?” a voice hissed in her ear as a hand gripped her arm and began to lead her around the other students. Tempest was grateful for the help. Usually she had no trouble navigating the hallways blind, but today she was having difficulty because her mind was currently tied up within the worries that accompany a “this-counts-as-half-your-grade” physics test.

“I’m okay. Just the usual,” she murmured back. Tempest felt Kella’s hand tighten about her upper arm as she moved along the hallway. “Something’s strange, though. He’s always warned me before.” This worried her more than she let on to her friend. But there was no more time to speak. The fog was ritualistically spreading from her eyes to her mind, setting all of Tempest’s reactions on autopilot. Before her memories took over, Tempest could sense Kella beside her, worried. Why Alden hadn’t given warning before seeing through Tempest’s eyes, she didn’t know, but it frightened her. Alden often checked on her in this way, but it was frightening her…

…A child of five sets of seasons, sitting awed and overwhelmed in a room full of Able students years her senior. The colors of the ranks kaleidoscoped around her: the Apprentices clothed in green, the Adepts in brown, the Officers in black. The soft, dark gray of the Masters and Masters-in-training was absent from the room. They trained separately from the others, only making occasional, brief appearances to teach a lesson or observe the goings on. The color and its honor seemed as unattainable as the stars. No amount of work could procure it. The swords chose their masters.

The girl looked to her own white garb, and her child’s heart sighed. The transition from White to Black seemed an eternal one. A Novice rank was one that you tried to get away from as soon as possible. Being only five, she knew that she had a few years at the least as a White. She had the markings of one who would become Able, and needed training, but she just wished that the whole process would hurry up. But it wasn’t black that dominated her dreams, but gray. The swirling gray cloaks, the loose training uniform, the fitted gray dress outfits with silver piping; the color permeated her mind and filled her with a deep longing and impatience.

A green-robed Apprentice broke her reverie.

“Whitey! You’re with me. Sparring time.” The girl could hear the unhidden resentment in his voice. She knew that he would rather be training with a Brown or Black, or even another Green. But to be stuck with a White—a Novice, and one so hopelessly young—was a fate worse than torture to the testy youth. Her child’s mind was mad, but she didn’t let it show. When I’m a Green, I won’t mind teaching the Whites, she thought savagely as she strained to catch up with the big boy’s purposefully long strides. I’ll be happy to teach…

Halfway through the training session, in which she was fighting doggedly but still losing miserably to the ten-year-old showoff she was pitted against, the instructor barked an order.

“All students halt! Rank line! Seats!” The order was obeyed without a word, the students seating themselves along the wall according to color and age. This arrangement put the girl at the extreme end of the line, so it took her a moment to see what had caused such an abrupt shift in schedule. When she realized the reason, her heart seemed to stop altogether.

The Masters were above all the others in rank, but they didn’t allow themselves to be worshiped. Work always continued in their presence. She had only glimpsed a few in passing. This master was older than the others she had seen. It was not his age that caught everyone’s attention, however. It was what he was carrying.

A sword.

Not his own sword. That was hanging in the customary scabbard at the Master’s side. It was a masterless sword, newly forged, most likely by the old Master’s own hands.

“Master Alden.” The instructor knew why the Swordmaster was there. Another thrill ran through the girl. Of all the Masters, this name she knew. Alden, the Ancient One, the only Master who belonged to the highest clan… He was possibly the most powerful person alive.

He began to pace down the row of seated students; his eyes were fixed on the blade in his hand. The students gazed at it longingly, each wishing and hoping that the honor might befall them. But Alden passed first all the Blacks, then the Browns, then the Greens. The girl’s heart throbbed painfully behind her eyes as she watched the sword pass one, than another White. The blade seemed to pulse, as if it were made of more than metal, as if some part of the spirit of its maker had gone into its forging.

There was a sigh, not heard but felt, as Alden stopped. Her eyes were only for that shining blade. The three Whites nearest her drew their breath; it could be any one of them.

A moment…a moment of silence so heavy it squeezed her ears like twelve meters of water above her. The light from the blade blinded her, but she couldn’t look away. It was suffocating her; she couldn’t breathe, but she didn’t care…

The blade arced, sang, flashed out, and the spell was broken. This time the collective sigh was audible. The girl touched her right temple, where something had pinched. Her fingers found a small cut, but as quickly as she had found the wound it healed, the blood drying on her fingers.

“What is your family name, child?” Master Alden asked, looking now at her and not the sword.

“Brightshadow, Master,” she piped, not even noticing how tiny her young voice sounded. Alden looked at her gravely.

“Do you understand what has been asked of you?”

She knew. It was not the question of her identity, but the one she had heard when the sword had bitten her skin. Will you accept this challenge? Will you attempt to master me? Are you willing to become a different person, to become part of me? “Yes.” She drew a deep breath, trying to hide a sudden surge of excitement and fear, trying to sound grown up. “I accept.”

“Come,” the revered Master commanded her kindly. She stood and walked with him out of the room, oblivious to the disbelieving looks of her former classmates. A sword had chosen her, and she would train with them no longer…

“…A Master considers themselves above no other,” Tempest recited as she blocked Alden’s staff with her forearm. She darted aside before his weapon could descend again. “A Master’s duty is to all Ricalians.” This time Alden’s foot shot out and sent Tempest sprawling. “A Master shall accept no favors,” she intoned jauntily and somewhat out of breath. The staff came hissing toward her, but Tempest was ready. Catching the staff only inches from her face, Tempest yanked for all she was worth. While her brute strength wasn’t enough to break the staff from Alden’s iron grip, the Master did overbalance and end up sprawled on the floor in Tempest’s place. A look of very mild surprise graced his features as he stood to face his student.

“A highly unorthodox move,” he commented. “Tradition would dictate rolling out of the way and recovering before making a counter attack. And executed while reciting as well. Now, can you compose poetry instead?”

“Umm…” Tempest struck a comic pose. “Oh no, oh dear, this can’t be true! My new shoes smell like animal—” She dropped and spun as Alden attacked again. Giving him a scowl of mock contempt, she continued. “—Do come in! Or I’ll boot you out, with a real good kick to your snout.” Alden smiled and shook his head. Tempest grinned. This was unofficial playtime. “I wanted to play, to go have a lark, but just like me, the skies were…” The pseudo-battle ground to a halt.

“You are not dark, child,” Alden told her severely. “Do not think that way. Ever! If you believe that about yourself, you are handing the enemy the victory. What you believe you are, you become.” He gazed at her intently, and she met his eyes with hers, allowing him to glance into her mind. He shook his head. “I feel that you aren’t worrying about yourself, but someone else thinking that you are dark.”

Tempest sat, her worries loosened from slumber by her kindly Master. “It’s Kella. I trust her completely, and I know that she would never betray me, but…she’s so afraid of anything Dark, and of what she can’t explain. I can hide your Seeing, but she notices the little things. Last week she asked me why I had let my sword brush against another person. She notices that I never do that. I don’t know what to tell her. I’m afraid that…that she’ll hate me.”

Alden gave her a small smile. “I doubt that highly, child. You have known her for three years; has she betrayed you once since that day when you were eight?”

“No,” Tempest admitted, “she hasn’t. Not even when I skipped out of school that day to build the hideout in the hills. And she didn’t even now the real reason I did it.”

Alden arched an eyebrow as if to say, A noble cause, but you still shouldn’t have skipped school, but he didn’t reprimand her. “Do not worry, child,” he said instead. “The day will come when you can tell her, and I will be there for you then, as always.”

“Thank you, Master.” Tempest was somehow greatly relieved. If she had trust, everything would work out.

“Come child. The days between now and the test for your clanship will seem to fly by us. We must work. Be calm. Clear your thoughts. You will fly…”

While Alden paced quietly about her, Tempest dropped into the soft blackness of her inner mind. The Streak was there, as always, crouched in her darkest corners, undermining and treacherous. She was no longer repulsed by its presence, which at first had summoned up images of a dark slug oozing out constrictive poison. Now she viewed it as her own personal challenge, always striving to pull her Abilities a little further out of its grasp. The Streak’s hold on her mind wasn’t static; she could stretch it, but never enough to break the bond. Now she dropped even deeper, finding the place in her mind where her conscience melded into her very existence. Eyes closed, she could almost see the threads of power that surrounded her, threaded through her, connecting her to life. She dropped deeper…

Slowly, imperceptibly at first, her being shifted upward. One inch, then two separated her seated form from the ground. She hung there, wavered, and then steadied. Affecting others was always easier than affecting oneself. For Tempest, the challenge was twofold: pulling the energy needed for self-levitation from the energy surrounding her was like trying to force a two-season-old to take a bath and keeping yourself dry at the same time. Tempest knew she had the ability, knew that she belonged within the ranks of the highest Clan, but she had to prove it. She had to walk the sky.

Tempest could feel Alden in her mind, showing her how to focus her energy, how to pull on the threads of power that surrounded her. Push harder, he murmured into her mind. Try to move upwards faster. Concentrate, relax…

Tempest was growing hot with exertion. Her mental energy was rapidly running low in the fight against the Streak, and now she had to call on her physical reserves to remain afloat. She was growing tired, but she did as Alden told her. She had to push herself. Gathering together all that she had, Tempest shot up eight feet and hung there for an instant. She could feel the barrier stretch, almost to the breaking point… She fought for all she was worth… Within three heartbeats, she lost it all. She tried to let go, regain control, but it was too late. Exhaustion made her mental hold slip, and the Streak snapped back in her mind with unbelievable force. Mental whiplash stunned her mind. She dropped jarringly to the ground; the thin practice mats did little to cushion the impact her head made with the floor. Pain shot down her spine an instant before she heard the scream.

“TEMPEST!” Pounding footsteps accompanied the familiar voice.

“STAY BACK!” Alden’s voice was uncharacteristically harsh.

“What happened? Tempest, are you okay?” Kella stood at the edge of the practice mats, a few feet from the swinging curtains of the entrance to the practice room.

Kella? What is she doing here? How… Tempest’s thoughts were groggy; she could see through nothing through that haze of pain.

“I told you to stay back! If you persist, I will call the Force!” This was definitely not the way Alden usually would have reacted, and it confused Tempest more than Kella’s sudden appearance did. “Tempest! Defend yourself!” he barked. Sluggishly, she obeyed. She took a defensive stance, trying to figure out exactly where Alden was at the moment. Before he could even start his offensive, however, Tempest’s legs gave out beneath her and she collapsed to the floor again. Although the fall wasn’t nearly as far as before, the contact her head made with the mats was enough to make bombs go off behind her eyes, and a fresh surge of agony spread over her.

“Tempest?” Kella’s voice was worried. She darted a glance at Alden, her feet starting to move forward in spite of his command to come no closer.

“Kella…? Is that…?” Tempest could manage no more.

“Yes, it’s me. Are you all right?” Her voice was almost frantic with concern.

“Girl—” Alden’s voice made the word sound like a detestable thing— “I told you to desist. This child is under my care and instruction. You will not interfere!”

Tempest could feel Kella’s fear, and her response was meek, but defiance still laced her voice. “Listen, don’t you dare hurt her!”

“Kella?” Tempest tried to bite back a soft whimper as she lifted her spinning head to look toward her friend. “It—hurts. Help me…?”

Driven by worry for Tempest, and by her natural healer’s need to ease suffering, Kella gained some courage. “Listen to her! She’s hurt. Can't you let her rest for a minute?”

“What would that do for her? Make her rely on breaks?” Alden’s voice was scornful. “There is no rest in battle! You know nothing!”

“You're going to hurt her worse if you make her keep going!” Tempest had never heard Kella sound angrier. “I do know some things, and I know that there's hard work, and then there’s cruelty! Leave her alone!”

“And what, my dear, soft one, will you do if I don’t? What will you do?”

“I’ll…I’ll…” She took a deep breath, then sighed. The anger was mixed with sorrow now. “I guess all I can do is heal the wounds you cause her, you…you beast.”

Long moments of silence passed, and through her pain Tempest could feel the conflicting emotions of Kella and Alden. Kella seemed furious, and Alden…

Tempest could feel him move near her, and his sense was nothing but compassion. He laid a hand on Tempest’s forehead, and a cool wave swept over her aching form. I’m sorry, he seemed to say. Then, out loud: “You choose your friends wisely, child.” With that, he left.

Kella seemed frozen for an instant, her sense all confusion and disbelief. Then she rushed to Tempest’s side. “Are you all right?”

Tempest sat up slowly, the pain gone. “Yes, I am now… Kella, this wasn’t—Alden isn't like that. But I think I know why he did this. He needed to test you…”

“Test me?” She blinked, still confused. “Why on earth would he need to do that?”

“To know if I could tell you…to make sure you wouldn't betray me…”

Kella frowned. “Tell me what? And you know that no matter what it is, of course I wouldn't betray you.” She gave Tempest a lopsided smile, her anger draining away now that her friend was out of danger.

“No, you'd never betray me in the conventional sense…but Kella, you’re so afraid of the Dark, I’m so afraid you'll hate me…” Tempest shuddered at the thought.

“Hate you? Why would I ever hate you?” Kella frowned. “What could you ever have to do with Darkness?”

“Kella…I’m marked. I have…”

“Have…what?”

“I’m Streaked.”

Kella was silent, stunned.

“Since I was eight. Not long before I met you.”

Kella shook her head. “Tempest, I never guessed…I’m so sorry. Um…I don’t know what to say.” She looked scared, but not hateful, as Tempest had feared.

“Then don’t say anything. I understand.” Tempest smiled hesitantly.

Kella slowly smiled back, then suddenly hugged her friend tightly, grinning.

“…Hey, Tempest girl! What’s wrong?”

Tempest glanced up at Kevram and absently toyed with the hilt of her sword. “What? Oh, nothing. Preoccupied, is all.”

“Preoccupied, my left eye,” Kev challenged. “You’ve got something up your sleeve. I’ve seen this look before. You know something. It’s very unbecoming.”

There was no use arguing with the kid. Sweet and sometimes obnoxious to a fault, he had an uncanny knack with all things electrical, which sometimes seemed to extend to other people’s brains. It could almost be an Ability, if electronics had been considered an Able field.

“I don’t know anything,” Tempest said, and hurriedly added, “that you don’t already know,” before Kev could make some snide remark. “I just have this feeling…foreboding, I guess…” She trailed off.

Kev instantly regained seriousness. “You think…an attack, maybe?”

“I don’t know; no, I…” She stopped, confused. “Please, don’t start spreading stuff around. I don’t want mass hysteria to break out when it’s only my personal paranoia.”

He nodded, understanding. The first buzzer rang for class, and Kev gave her an impish grin. “Someday I’m going to take it upon myself to re-wire that system so that it plays Rictarkin Opera instead of simply droning away.”

“You would,” Tempest remarked with a smile, her nervous mood subdued for a moment, just as Kev had intended it to be.

An hour later she was jumpy again and finding herself fingering her sword more than once. Kella, like Kevram, noticed this right away. During a noisy moment in class, Kella broached the subject.

“Tempest, is everything…” Her face asked the rest. In the six years since she had learned of Tempest’s Streak, she had been fiercely protective of her friend.

“Yes, I’m ok, it’s not what you think…”

It was then that pandemonium broke loose.

First the faint wail of the city sirens followed closely by the school’s own system broke the peace like a fire at the theater. Students and staff began to vacate the classrooms for the basement with alarming speed. Only the best of luck kept people from getting trampled in the mad dash. Tempest broke off from the wailing, frightened mob by the main doors.

“Tempest!” She turned to find Kella as terror-stricken as was possible for her usually composed friend.

“They need everyone, Kella. One sword can make the difference. I have to, Kella. I need to.” Tempest turned and fled before her own fear could grow, shouting back over her shoulder. “You take care of everyone else! They’ll need you down there.” And then she was running down the empty streets.

“Brightshadow. Glad to see you. Not here, of course, under these circumstances…”

Tempest gave a warm smile to the Commander and began to aid the others in what little they could do to ready themselves for battle. Tempest grabbed one of the hoods from the box being passed around and yanked it over her head. The soft black fabric was stitched all over with tiny beads of the same metal that made the swords. While not affording any real long-term protection, they did help to keep one from being immediately overwhelmed. Tempest gave a quick, reassuring hug to one of her fellows, hoping and praying that they would see each other again.

“Steady on, here they come!”

Tempest looked up to the hills beyond the town. A black mass was writhing down the nearest slope, boiling away, flowing in towards the town. Even in Tempest, who had trained herself never, never to fear, fear arose. The Lide Hederon were attacking.

The Life Destroyers.

They were the stuff of nightmares that came from the dark forests to gorge themselves on the souls and lifeblood of those below. The tales of what happened when one was being “consumed” were more horrible than anything imaginary. And the only way to destroy the formless half-beings was with the strange metal tempered and wielded by a Master.

For twenty years there had been peace. But on this day, Hell was rent open and let its minions loose on the land.

For how long they fought, Tempest never knew. She had eyes only for the shadows and her blade, ears only for the sounds of battle around her, mind only for survival. Every Lide Hederon was a vacuum of emptiness ready to engulf any life it came in contact with.

Tempest would never, could never, forget that day, her pounding heart, her flashing sword, the darkness around her. For the first time in nine years, she lived without a shield around her mind. No one was searching for her now except the shadows she was fighting.

The noise was horrible. Every time a Hederon was cut down, an unearthly shriek rent the air; every time a Hederon found the life it was hungering for, the sound of a living creature in the throes of torture jarred the ears. And soon after would come their death cry, strangely relieving, as a former comrade tested their sword on one living…

It was a mercy, to the one being consumed and to those left behind. A Hederon within the shell of someone once living was even more dangerous than one in shadow form.

All the cacophony around her, and yet Tempest still heard—

“Tempest!”

Slash, jab, turn—it could be a trick, a trap. But no. She saw, with strange clarity and even stranger detachment, the familiar form of her best friend as she appeared at the edge of the melee.

Kella was unarmed. Tempest noticed it just as one of the Hederon did. She moved, but it moved faster.

Kella screamed.

Tempest didn’t have time to think—couldn’t allow herself time to think. The law was engraved within her: Any Ricalian who has been overtaken by the Lide Hederon is of no other clan and must be brought down… A part of the code she lived by…the code she would now kill by.

Kella’s screams reached an unimaginable, agonized pitch as Tempest’s sword came crashing down. She could see the Hederon behind Kella’s panicked eyes, could see—feel?—something in the air between them…

The sword arced down, sang. Tempest’s heart shrieked to match Kella’s voice, and broke.

Something gave an inaudible bellow of rage and defeat and death…

…And Tempest found herself on hands and knees, feeling as if she had just been sliced right down the middle and the two parts had been rejoined by fire. Kella looked as if she felt the same.

She breathed…

Kella was alive: bewildered, in pain, but alive and whole. Tempest had no time to think of it, or to show her surprise and joy; she only had time to give her dagger to Kella. They stood, back-to-back, fighting.

No time to remember the note of the sword, its name, which it was ready to give to its master, but which she was not ready to hear.

No time to realize that the sword was incapable of harming its master, and so much of Tempest was Kella just as so much of Kella was Tempest that Kella couldn’t be harmed either, only the shadow-being which had been inside of her…

…Time misted and swirled, flung itself dizzyingly around her, spinning about like a crazed juggernaut. Unfamiliar images flickered past her; unfelt emotions paraded by, strange and alien, leaving her only a spectator. Here is a face, an foreign sense of protection and friendship connected to it; here is a name spoken and not recognized, a scream heard and she did not know its owner’s voice; here is a roar, a throbbing, a wild call. One scene settled on a whooping dance performed around an enormous, blazing fire, an immense, half-shadowed hulk of a creature watching over it all. Next came the sound of battle, the unfortunately familiar sounds of living beings dying, the color of blood escaped and skin exposed to death. And now she was leaping out into space, an evil presence behind her, only to feel her fingers whisper by the handhold she was reaching for, and all of Time screamed and echoed around her as she fell headlong, down…

“Hey, watch where you’re going!”

Still half-unable to see, Tempest stumbled and hit the ground hard. Kella shot a nasty look at the inconsiderate boy who had tripped Tempest and helped her friend up. Neither of them spoke until they grew close to the choir classroom.

“How are you doing?”

Tempest shook her head to rid herself of the last tattered remnants of fogginess. “Just fine, thanks. I can see now.” Physically, that is. Logically, things are still quite cloudy…

Kella released Tempest’s arm. “That was a little odd, don’t you think?”

You don’t know the half of it. “Well, yes.” It was more than odd. It was freaking her out. It hadn’t felt like Alden. She had always relived past memories while Alden was using her eyes, but the mixed-up cacophony at the end had been completely foreign. And why did she suddenly feel so cold? “Still, there’s probably a good reason for it. Come on, let’s get our music folders.”

Kella got into rehearsal without too much worry, but Tempest was singing on autopilot. Something weird was going on, and she didn’t like it. Big worries from an hour before were forgotten—the physics test, upcoming vocal performances, her final challenge before she could call herself a Swordmaster.

Tempest was getting jumpy. Ever since the incident the day before, she had been on edge. Now something was tickling at the back of her mind; a silent warning bell was going off. She was almost certain that someone was following her.

She had even been so bold as to broach the subject that morning with Kella before classes started at the Academy. At lunch she had bolted her food and excused herself from Kella’s presence, prowling around the schoolyard in hopes of finding the source of her uneasiness. She caught glimpses of the person on more than one occasion: medium height, medium build, short sandy hair, observant eyes, open ears—Tempest knew what it all added up to. Some Officer was trailing her. He wasn’t dressed in the color of an officer, wearing instead brown pants and a white shirt. He blended in perfectly, the mark of a good spy. But to Tempest, who had trained herself to spot perfectly camouflaged spies, he had all the earmarks.

“Tempest?” Kella looked anxious. She knew as well.

“I’m walking home today,” she replied. Kella looked like she might protest, so Tempest murmured, “Alone. I can’t put you in danger. I’ll be okay.” She gave her sword an inconspicuous pat and Kella a roguish grin.

“Okay, but you know that I’ll be by later tonight to check on you, so don’t be surprised when I turn up.”

“Red if away,” Tempest said, reminding Kella of the curtains that would hang in her window should she need to escape to the hills. “And I suppose it’s no use telling you not to follow me there. You’d come anyway.”

Kella smiled slightly and nodded. “You know me too well.”

With that they went separate ways, Kella on a mad dash to catch her transport, Tempest on what seemed to be a leisurely stroll. She could feel the Officer move off the Academy grounds behind her, trying to blend in to the cacophony of students and teachers.

Tempest, against her better judgment, decided to take the scenic route.

The river that ran from those dark-infested hills unfolded before her. Trees and low-lying bushes began to dictate for her a more zigzag course. He was still following, somehow locked onto her sense. Tempest knew she was in trouble. If she could be tracked, everyone she loved was in grave danger.

Tempest’s mind was buzzing. She could feel the panic forming in her stomach, beginning to rise upward to paralyze her heart and mind.

No.

She made a desperate decision. The weight of living and existing under a façade all her life was heavy on her. Something had to give.

She started wandering aimlessly, turning and twisting with no apparent purpose in mind. She could tell he hadn’t been thrown off completely, but he was far enough behind now to give her an edge. Silently, she shimmied up the nearest tree and concealed herself in the thick foliage. Tense, sword drawn and ready, she waited.

He appeared beneath her, cautious and alert. He knew she was near. He seemed slightly confused; uncertain, he turned around, trying to find his quarry. Tempest launched herself off her perch with all the abandon of a bird.

He was an Officer, so she wasn’t surprised that he was aware of her leap before she had completed it. What did surprise her was the speed with which he avoided her attack. He had moved himself out of her path almost before she jumped. Even so, she landed unhurt and unfazed. These people were full of tricks.

“So, are you in this for the training, or do you simply enjoy stalking young women into the woods?”

He seemed startled for an instant but regained his composure in the blink of an eye. He carried no sword. Strange…

“Well?” Tempest was finally ready. She knew that her time, for better or worse, had come.

“I’ve been searching for you,” he said with a strange note of gravity. “I’ve been sent to find you…”

“May I ask by whom?”

He gave a puzzled smile to her caustic politeness. “Not by any person; the Force sent me—”

“I don’t understand you,” he said, the mask of confusion still clamped to his features. “I understand that you might distrust me, being a complete stranger. But why do you assume me to be an enemy?”

“Why?” she asked incredulously. “Either you have been trained very well in the art of Imitation, or you are horribly ignorant. I suspect both; I have never thought too highly of your kind’s intelligence.”

“My kind?” he questioned, seeming to have missed most of Tempest’s insults. He is a talented Imitator, she thought grudgingly. No matter. It wouldn’t make her job any harder.

The man seemed to freeze in mid-thought. His eyes glazed over and his features were suddenly carved in stone. An indescribable look of horror was glued to his face. Tempest knew what that meant, if it wasn’t some elaborate trap. Had this man never seen combat? Impossible. But just in case…

Tempest opened her mind a crack, and there it was: the dark, slithery feeling that preempted an attack…

There was a hiss of anticipation that couldn’t be heard by the physical ear.

The man lunged forward, a smallish cylindrical object clutched in one hand.

If he thinks that will protect him…

Tempest dropped and whirled in one fluid motion. The Hederon that had been creeping up behind her went flying over her head, its well-timed attack suddenly gone to pieces. With a howl of rage it spun back to Tempest and charged her headlong. It must have been incredibly starved to make such a foolish move, especially alone. One slash felled it before it could reach its goal.

The man had no time to check his own headlong rush in the time it took Tempest to bring down the Hederon. His momentum only added to the force of Tempest’s kick. His motion was suddenly reversed, and his landing sounded like it hurt. Tempest was on him in an instant, a knee in his gut and a hand at his neck. Her sword’s point rested lightly between his eyes, unwavering.

“Don’t get any delusions of grandeur,” she growled at him. “I could knock you into next week and disappear before anyone could do anything about it.”

Wisely, he stayed still. “What,” he shuddered, “was that?”

“For the sake of all the skies, man! Who do you think you’re fooling?”

The man seemed to notice for the first time that Tempest was coming close to throttling him. A frown crossed his face. “I am no enemy,” he croaked.

“No enemy, and my mother is a Hederon,” she snorted. “Who do you believe you are in this deluded state?”

“Skywalker…”

“You are not of my Clan! Now I know you lie! Do you think me a fool? Your name, liar! The Clan you pretend to belong to doesn’t interest me!”

“Clan?” he gurgled.

The man’s continuation of feigned ignorance would have infuriated Tempest if she had not been keeping her emotions so tightly in check. “Remember who you are stalking, fool! I am Swordmaster Tempest Brightshadow, clan SkyWalker. WHAT IS YOUR NAME?”

“Luke,” he managed. “Skywalker…”

Everything within Tempest froze.

Don’t ever forget me. Remember me always. No, don’t cry. Oh, little one… You are too young to join me now. But I’ll always be with you. Maybe one day you will escape, too… I’ll send someone to you. I don’t know who they are, but I can see that someone will reach you for me… Don’t worry, little one, you’ll see me again soon. I promise. The one who will come for you—watch for the bringer of light. Wait for the one who has no Clan, yet bears a Clan name. I can’t come back, but I’ll send for you. Remember that. Don’t cry…

The voice, wrenched up from deep within Tempest’s childhood, nearly brought tears to her eyes. It had been so long since she had understood that he died…

Part of the memory leaped to the front of her mind. The one who had no Clan, but carries a Clan name.

Oh, no.

Tempest leapt up, sheathing her sword. The man, Luke, lay on the ground, still a bit winded from the kick and Tempest’s choking hands. Embarrassed, she helped him sit. “Are you alright? I’m horribly sorry, I…”

“No, it’s all right. I understand.” More proof that he wasn’t an Officer. An Officer would never have forgiven that fast. Luke took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Tempest nearly reeled as unchecked waves of Ability suddenly streamed from him.

“What are you doing?” she demanded, shocked. Faster than she thought possible, she clamped a shield around him.

His eyes sprang open. “What..?”

“Don’t you shield yourself? The Force could pick you up miles away.”

“The Force?” he questioned, somewhat disoriented from the mindshield that had suddenly snapped up around him.

“The Force. The Able officers who keep the peace and eradicate those with dark Streaks… You aren’t from around here, are you?”

“No,” he said as Tempest joined him, sitting on the forest floor. “I’ve come from Coruscant in search of you.”

“What city is Coruscant?” Tempest questioned.

“Not a city. It’s a planet, the capitol of the New Republic.”

“Oh.” She looked as if she was trying to absorb a very important piece of information. “And you were…born on another planet? That’s why you’re a short-ear?” She indicated her own high, pointed ears.

“Yes. And your Force…”

“…Must be nothing like yours.”

There was a lot to learn.

“See, my Force doesn’t evoke such fond notions,” Tempest said around a mouthful of food. They had arrived at Tempest’s house to find it empty. Went for a romantic dinner, fend for yourself the note from her parents read. So Tempest had rummaged through cupboards and cabinets to get some semblance of a meal together while Luke told her about the universe outside of Ricalia. She was particularly interested in “Luke’s” Force. “Technically, I’m outside the Force here, above it almost.” She swallowed. “It’s the Officers and Adepts who make up the ranks, along with a few gifted Apprentices. They’re the peacekeeper unit, fight the wars if ever one pops up, and keep the populace safe from the life stealers and free of Streaks. That’s why I have to always watch my back.”

“You have one of these Streaks, then?”

“Uh huh. It’s a kind of dark block in my mind. Makes it hard to use my abilities when I’m calm and really easy when I’m riled up. The danger is that if I give in to the streak, I go Hederon.” She shuddered.

“Go what?”

“That thing I killed. A void made of all things nasty, a shadow daemon, life eater, whatever. Alden thinks I’m strong enough to break it someday.” She gulped down half a glass of water and answered Luke’s question before he asked it. “Alden’s my trainer, confidant, and one of my best friends. He’s the one who made the sword that chose me as Master.”

“So your sword chose you? It’s alive?” He didn’t look convinced.

Tempest scrunched up her face. “In a way. It’s more like it’s alive through me, because of me. The swords and Swordmasters are our best defense against the Hederon. It’s the Hederon that streaked me in the first place. My family has been notorious for Hederon encounters in the past. The first Brightshadows escaped a late night attack to warn the city. They weren’t Masters, they had no weapons, and yet somehow they managed not to be taken by the Hederon. My last name is an honorific for saving so many, and yet the people they saved have always been suspicious. They suspected that they made some kind of pact with the demons. It’s hard to gain trust as a Brightshadow. The name marks you. If it were discovered that I’m Streaked, it would confirm everything in the masses’ minds.

“You’ve lived like this all your life, hiding in the open…and not able to get away?”

“There’s nowhere to go. No city would take us. I have a hideout in the dark hills if things get desperate. I just don’t know how long we could survive there. I can go there by myself because I have my sword. My parents would be vulnerable to the Hederon; I’d have to be with them every second. We could only be safe off this world.” And even though I believe that, the memory of my brother could destroy my hope… He was no safer than any of us.

“You could come with me. Your Force could never find you.”

Hope leapt in Tempest’s heart. “You could take us?”

Luke hesitated. “You. Take you. A dream sent me here. It told me to find you and take you from here. You alone.”

“You would take a girl away from her home and leave her parents to the monsters because a dream told you?” Tempest’s face darkened.

“I would never choose such a thing,” Luke said, upset, “but I can feel things. Your world is a strange place. I don’t think your parents would be allowed to leave.”

“Then I can’t either. They need me. And I’m not even finished training yet.” She stood and dumped her dirty dishes in the sink violently enough that one shattered. Tempest swore uncharacteristically and clutched her hand. A shard of plate was lodged deep in her palm, bleeding along the scar she had given herself years before. Tears welled up in her eyes as her mind saw that hand, smaller, pressed against her brother’s hand, which had also been cut… Never be forgotten…

“Here, let me see.” Luke took her hand and gently wiped the blood away with a kitchen towel. “It’s in there pretty deep. Do you have anything to get it out with?”

“Not here,” she answered, trying to remember her healing abilities to dull the pain. “We’d have to go—”

“Don’t worry, I can get it,” he assured her. She was about to ask him how he expected to get his fingers into her hand when the glass started to move on its own. She watched in disbelief, pain forgotten, as the shard slid clear of her skin and dropped onto the counter.

“How—?” She pulled her hand away from Luke, the closest thing to fear in her eyes. “What are you?”

“A Jedi. Like you would be if you were off this planet.”

“I would be no such thing,” she retorted, shaking. “No living thing can do that. Move something not alive with their mind. It’s impossible.”

“Not impossible.” The kitchen rag picked itself up off the counter and offered itself to Tempest. “Apparently only unheard of.” Tempest slowly took hold of the rag, which went limp in her grip. Luke held out his hand to her. “That wound needs to be looked at.”

“How?” she asked again, sitting cautiously at the table and relinquishing her hand to him. “And what is a Jedi?” He was silent for a second, concentrating on Tempest’s wound. She turned her attention to it as well, and within a few seconds the bleeding had stopped. “That’s good enough for now,” she said, withdrawing her hand again.

“The Force connects everything, alive or not. What is touched by the Force can be touched by a Jedi.”

“And when you moved so quickly, avoiding my jump?”

“I sensed your intention and let the Force move me in the right direction.”

“It moved you? You give it control?”

“In a way, yes.” Understanding showed in his face. “Your people control their Abilities, never the other way around?”

“A Seer sees what they need to, when they need it. It’s never spontaneous, and the subject is never unexpected. And a Seer only Sees. It’s rare for someone to have more than one Ability. Alden is practically the only one I know of, aside from myself. I can use any ability, but I only belong to one because it would draw too much attention to myself…”

“Specialization is not uncommon, but I’ve never seen anything like this before.”

“You!” she exclaimed. “My brain is going through convulsions trying to understand it all. Good grief!” She stared blankly at the bloody dishcloth. “Just don’t go doing that in public. You’ll cause a minor riot. You draw enough attention as it is with your short ears.”

“I’ll remember,” Luke said. “I should be going.”

“Where to?” Tempest asked, puzzled.

“Back to the woods. I can sleep in—”

“Oh, no you don’t!” she cut him off. “I’m not going to have your death on my conscience. The Hederon would have you for lunch. We have a spare room; I’ll tell Mom and Dad you’re a teaching recruiter from another city. It’s a true enough story, in a way.” Her countenance darkened for a second before she made the conscious effort to put his request behind her.

“If it will be no trouble…”

“None. Don’t worry about it. Mom’ll want to feed you in the morning, just to warn you.”

Luke woke the next morning to the smell of something amazing. He entered the kitchen to find Tempest and her mother there, creating large quantities of food. Music was playing from some hidden source, and Tempest was bopping around the kitchen to its upbeat tempo.

“Good morning!” the older woman said cheerily.

“I warned you about the food,” Tempest as she passed him on her way to the dining area.

“Nara, I really didn’t expect you to do all this…”

“Don’t worry, you’re not all that special,” Tempest called. “This is normal. Almost.”

“Tempest, go retrieve your father, he probably fell asleep in the washroom again,” Nara called back to her daughter. “Go ahead and take a seat, food’s almost ready,” she told Luke as Tempest danced upstairs. She soon came tripping back, Kamau in tow. She plunked herself down in a chair and began dishing our food to plates.

“Tempest hasn’t told us much about you,” Kamau said, joining the others at the table. “But she has told us that we can trust you.” His tone didn’t hide the weight behind the words. “Take as much food as you can handle, there’s plenty.”

“Thank you,” Luke answered. “I appreciate your hospitality.”

Breakfast was a festive affair, accompanied by a great deal of chatter and laughter. The amount of food put away by Tempest and her parents would have seemed enormous to an outsider. Luke soon learned that the family made a point of waking up early to eat together, and that later meals were often grabbed on the run as Tempest shot off to training, Kamau filled in last-minute for a sick colleague in a concert, or Nara disappeared to the Health Center on an emergency call. Tempest didn’t see much of Luke over the next two days, what with classes and sessions with Alden. Her trainer seemed strangely intense, pushing her harder than usual. When she did see Luke, they never spoke of his request. Although she never showed it, Tempest’s heart was at war with itself. She knew her answer was final. She had told him the truth, and there was no question in her mind that she could do nothing else. But the war in her heart raged on…

Despite being at odds with herself, Tempest could still focus entirely on the sparring she was involved in. For all his years, Alden could still outfight his pupil. Tempest lay sprawled on her back, breathing deeply in an attempt to recover from her last defeat at the Swordmaster’s hands.

“What did I do wrong? Well, I seemed to have the advantage, and as you were my only adversary, I concentrated my focus on you to try and finish the fight. Big mistake.”

“Never even saw it coming. Never suspected you’d hide a weapon… Should have known you’d have your staff around somewhere.”

“Never become so focused on one thing, one person, that you lose what is happening around you. It is the one weakness you have—such an intense focus, such concentration that everything else disappears. I have told you many times, child—you must widen your sphere. You must be aware of everything around you. Use all your senses. You never know when or how the enemy could give themselves away.”

“Yes, teacher.”

Alden sighed. “I don’t know what to do with you sometimes. You’re 19 sets on the outside, but you have the heart of a child of 6 and the mind and steel of someone my age. You’ve grown up much too fast.”

Tempest sat, cross-legged. “Yeah, well, I can’t cry of that. I was needed. And I don’t regret it.” Tempest knew that her unhappiness about having to reject Luke’s request was seeping out from her mind. Alden’s face darkened, but he asked Tempest no questions. Tempest couldn’t even look at him, and she remained seated, with her head bowed. Everything disappeared for her; every breath and heartbeat enveloped her, and for an instant, her mind seemed to touch something…

A clear note broke her reverie. She opened her eyes to find her gaze resting on her sword. She lifted her head and met Alden’s eyes with hers.

“You have one final test, child. One final test of many yet to come. Whatever this is that has found a home in your heart cannot distract you from what you must do.”

“Yes, teacher.” Her sword was a comfortable weight in her hand, an extension of herself, something almost alive. And yet she didn’t have full mastery over the weapon yet. “Its name..?”

“Tonight, child.”

The excitement began to grow in her stomach.

¤ ¤ ¤

Chapter 2: Testing

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