January, 3980 ABY
Imperial Prison Barge, Interrogation Chamber
The door slid open with a hiss, but Alexander did not flinch. His broken arm throbbed, but his eyes were steel.
The chamber was suffocating, bare metal walls reflecting cold light that fractured like shards of ice. At its center stood the Pale Father, a silhouette carved from shadows and menace. His presence was a void that swallowed hope whole.
He stepped forward, robes whispering like dead leaves, his face half-hidden beneath a hood. His eyes, glowing a malevolent crimson, pierced through the gloom and into Alexander's soul.
"Alexander," his voice was low and venomous, curling through the silence. "You clutch a relic of power and pain a weapon forged in chaos and blood. But it was never meant for your hands."
Alexander spat on the floor. "It's mine. I bled for it. I survived for it."
The Pale Father smiled, thin, cruel, like a knife drawn across a fresh wound.
"Survival is an illusion. Power... power is real. And I offer it to you."
Alexander's glare hardened. "I don't want your power. I want freedom."
The Pale Father's gaze sharpened, flickering with dark amusement.
"Freedom?" he echoed, voice dripping with scorn. "Freedom is a cage you build for yourself. I offer something far greater."
He reached into the folds of his robe, producing a small, ancient holocron. Its surface shimmered with dark energy, pulsing in the dim light.
"This holocron holds knowledge... secrets of the dark side that will make you unstoppable. Power to crush your enemies, to rewrite your fate."
Alexander's breath caught. The weight of temptation pressed down like a star collapsing.
"But such power," the Pale Father continued, "comes at a price."
His voice dropped, deadly serious.
"Allegiance. Loyalty. A surrender not of body, but of soul."
Alexander's heart hammered against his ribs.
"I won't be your pawn," he spat.
The Pale Father's smile twisted into something colder, remorseless.
"You misunderstand. This is not a request. It is an ultimatum."
He stepped closer, voice barely above a whisper, yet cutting through the air like a vibroblade.
"Join me, Alexander. Become my instrument, wield the power you crave. Survive beyond this cell. Become more than you ever imagined. Or refuse... and rot here, forgotten and broken, until the light in you dies."
A long silence stretched between them, thick, suffocating.
Alexander's fingers clenched the broken arm, pain mingling with fury and fear.
Then the Pale Father's eyes gleamed with something almost cruelly compassionate.
"The choice is yours."
Alexander's breath was ragged, his mind torn by the impossible weight of the offer.
The Pale Father turned slowly, a shadow slipping back into darkness.
"Decide quickly. The galaxy waits for no one."
The door hissed closed, locking him once again in cold silence.
Alone, Alexander faced the crushing truth: power or destruction. Freedom or bondage.
The line between salvation and damnation blurred into a knife's edge.
The cold pressed into Alexander's bones as the door hissed shut behind the Pale Father. Darkness swallowed the room whole, leaving only the harsh echo of his ragged breathing.
He slid down the metal wall, the dull ache in his broken arm flaring sharp and unforgiving. Each pulse of pain was a reminder: his body was fragile, but his spirit wasn't broken yet.
Power. The word haunted him like a shadow cast long and cruel.
Power at the price of my soul.
He clenched his fist, nails digging into flesh, drawing a thin line of blood. The promise of the holocron, ancient, dangerous knowledge, taunted him from memory, flickering like a distant flame just out of reach.
His thoughts spiraled, dragging him through fractured memories.
Faces. Voices.
The rain-soaked streets of Ord Mantell. Blood on his hands. The last desperate battle for survival.
The weapon, the maul-lightsaber, a symbol of everything he'd fought for, everything lost.
Could he betray that? Could he betray himself?
A sharp hiss cut through the silence. The door slid open again.
"Time's almost up."
The voice was cold and final. A figure stepped inside, a guard, unyielding, unfeeling. No sympathy in his eyes. Just duty.
Alexander pushed himself to his feet, every movement sending lightning through his broken arm.
The guard's gaze flicked to the bruised flesh, then back to Alexander's steel-hard eyes.
"You have a choice," the man said flatly. "Join the Father, or be left to rot."
Alexander's jaw tightened. He took a breath, steadying himself, the weight of the moment crushing down.
He looked to the shadows where the holocron rested, waiting.
Freedom or bondage. Salvation or damnation.
The line blurred beneath the cold, unforgiving light.
His fingers twitched, reaching toward the unseen weapon of fate.
The door slid open again, footsteps approaching.
The choice would be his. But the consequences… those were already written.