The Master's Mercy, Part Two

Posted on Fri Oct 2nd, 2026 @ 10:18pm by Mange & Hollow & Kelderesh jai Nektus

1,369 words; about a 7 minute read

Chapter: Chapter IX: The First Verse
Location: Refugee Station, Bothan Space
Timeline: In the days after "Hollow Pursuits"

Kelderesh had appeared beside Verse and Hollow again, sliding away from preparing the other cultists and to their side. His eyes narrowed as he caught Hollow's words, not disapprovingly but with focus as he allowed himself to reach out to confirm her assessment for himself.

"Hmph," his lips parted into a small grimace as he drew the same conclusion, "I sense three or four Knights of the Rift. More than anticipated for their order, although some may be fledgeling initiates. No matter, they shall all meet the same fate."

He turned to Mange and nodded, then brought himself towards the main door and brought a hand up.

"Chosen of Axion, you have your tasks," he declared, clenching his fist and Verse could see threads of Force telekinesis whipping around his hand like gathering clouds, "We go now."

Without delay, he whipped his arm forward and the captured energy ruptured forth in a concentrated burst of kinetic energy that ripped the door away like a sheet of parchment, sending it flying away down a long, hazy corridor.

Verse did not miss a beat as she strode past Lords Mange and Kelderesh immediately taking the lead. And so began her walking sermon at the tip of the Cult's spear.

"Rejoice in the light of Axion, for we are righteous," she proclaimed just as the first of the Bothan resistance stepped out to take his shots at her. In a single masterful stroke with her lightsaber, she drew and ignited it, and deflected the bolt directly back at the shooter. She continued calmly forward just as the totality of the violence spilled forth to meet them, "Shout with rage! Fight without mercy! By our strength, their souls are ours to possess!" She flourished and defiantly pointed her blade straight ahead. "End them all for the glory of almighty Axion!!!"

Mange vanished into the smoke almost immediately, a roaring avalanche of white fur, crimson blades and impossible strength. Wherever the enormous Wookiee passed, bodies followed. His bellows echoed repeatedly through the station ahead, mingling with screams, collapsing bulkheads and the sharp hiss of ruptured conduits. He did not fight so much as tear a corridor through the defenders for those behind him to follow.

Hollow remained at Verse's shoulder. She neither sought to outpace her mistress nor looked towards the devastation Lord Mange left in his wake. Her entire attention rested upon the Herald as they advanced, every sermon, every command and every measured step seeming to draw her onward as surely as the Force itself. There was a quiet exhilaration about the young Muun now, carefully contained beneath her usual serenity, as though she had finally discovered the purpose for which every lesson of her childhood within the cult had been preparing her.

A knot of civilian volunteers stumbled from a side passage ahead, armed with little more than maintenance carbines, industrial cutters and the desperate courage born of defending those behind them. They scarcely had time to raise their improvised weapons before Hollow extended one graceful hand. Their firearms were ripped cleanly from nervous fingers and clattered harmlessly across the deck. Invisible pressure descended upon the little group, forcing each defender down onto one knee as though compelled into reverence before a higher power.

Without slowing her pace, Hollow passed amongst them. Her blade rose and fell with restrained precision, each stroke clean, efficient and almost ceremonial. She neither lingered nor looked back as the volunteers collapsed behind her. Instead, she resumed her place half a step behind Verse, dark eyes fixed once more upon her mistress, awaiting only the next words that would guide both her blade and her faith.

The slaughter around them showed no sign of slowing. From a side corridor came the sudden metallic crash of something striking bulkheads in rapid succession before an astromech-sized utility droid lurched clumsily into view. One manipulator arm had already been torn away, its chassis peppered with fresh blaster scoring and deep rents from vibroblades. It staggered only a few more paces before collapsing heavily toward Verse, servos whining pitifully as thick amber hydraulic oil poured freely from its ruptured torso.

The crippled utility droid had fallen near a junction where the station's main thoroughfare divided in two directions. Ahead, the bulk of the cult continued their advance. Lord Mange was already disappearing into the smoke and alarm-lit haze further down the primary corridor, his bellows echoing intermittently above the distant screams of the dying. Kelderesh and several of the more experienced acolytes followed close behind, whilst lesser cultists spread outward to secure adjoining passages.

Yet the Nautolan slowed; the droid's damaged chassis seemed to hold her attention for only a moment. Hollow looked back at her. Though the droid had collapsed, the Nautolan remained momentarily still. She sensed something else.

Then came the screech of tortured metal: a blast door on the adjoining corridor suddenly groaned and parted itself to reveal a line of soldiers set against a hazy white backdrop of smoke. The Bothan Defence Force soldiers advanced through the drifting smoke, rifles shouldered and aimed. Unlike the panicked volunteers and security personnel they had butchered thus far, these warriors moved with discipline. Their formation immediately spread to cover the junction.

And behind them stood a single figure: armour-clad and motionless. A yellow lightsaber ignited with a sharp crackling hiss, tinting the smoke into a great golden haze.

Kelderesh halted at the sound and stepped back to the edge of the junction.

His lip curled.

"Rift Jedi..." he snarled.

For a brief moment his gaze rested upon the armoured warrior, then shifted to the Nautolan and finally to Hollow.

His snarling teeth disappeared and became a faint smirk of pleasure.

"Leave your master to face this one."

The yellow blade settled into guard.

The Nautolan did not move and Kelderesh turned fully towards the young Muun.

"Surely you do not think she requires your protection."

Blaster fire suddenly erupted as the Bothan soldiers opened fire. Red bolts streaked through the junction. Several cultists charged to meet them, whilst others answered with their own weapons.

The Kaleesh paid the violence no mind.

"Come."

His eyes narrowed slightly.

"The architect droid remains ahead of us. If you truly wish to prove yourself worthy of your mistress' instruction, then be among us as we secure Axion's prize."

Behind him, the yellow blade rose into a ready guard as the Rift Jedi advanced through the smoke toward the growing chaos.

Kelderesh simply turned away.

"Let her teach this one the folly of standing against the Dark Master."

With that, he swept down the opposite corridor toward the medical wing, expecting Hollow to follow.

For the first time since leaving the freighter, Hollow did not immediately obey. Her long head turned back towards Verse.

The Nautolan remained where Kelderesh had left her, framed against the drifting smoke of the junction whilst the yellow blade of the advancing Rift Jedi cut brilliant arcs through the haze beyond. Blaster fire flashed between them and several lesser cultists were already spilling forward to meet the newly arrived defenders, but Hollow scarcely seemed to notice any of it.

Her dark eyes remained fixed upon her mistress. The instinct to stay was immediate. It had been shaped into her years months of instruction; remain close, observe, anticipate, protect. More recently, Verse had already taught her how to reach differently through the Force, how to taste fear and anger before a blade was drawn, how to allow another person's intention to betray their movement before muscle or weapon followed it. Since leaving the freighter, Hollow had remained almost perpetually half a pace behind her, her tall and narrow Muun frame falling naturally into the Nautolan's shadow.

That was where she belonged - yet Verse did not call for her. Hollow's long fingers tightened around the irregular hilt of her lightsaber. Another bolt passed between them and still Verse did not look back.

"Yes, mistress."

The words were barely louder than a breath. Verse had given no command, but Hollow turned away and followed Kelderesh. Behind her, the yellow blade vanished momentarily beneath a violent flare of crimson, but she did not look back again to the Herald.

TBC

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