Aerion Falls to the Dark Side

From TFC Galactopedia

Dark Lord of the Sith Jedek Valorn smiled to himself as he studied his one surviving captive on the monitor. The once noble Jedi hung limp in the manacles, tunic long gone to rags, his white fur blackened with soot and matted with dried blood. His head lolled against his chest, the facial slash Jedek had most recently inflicted on him adding a fresh crimson trickle to the patchwork of older wounds. The Sith lord savored Aerion’s torment like a fine wine. For all his brave words, the Jedi was weak. His resolve was wavering. Aerion had been forced to watch as Jedek butchered each of the others who had been captured with the Jedi. Watching the anger and hatred build in the helpless lemorian had been most amusing. It would not be long now until Aerion broke completely and could be reformed into something more… suitable. Jedek had sensed the dark potential within the Jedi, and sought to nurture it. Aerion would be a most powerful ally if turned and properly harnessed. It was a long and painstaking process to warp and undermine the Jedi’s beliefs and twist them to a proper view, but slowly and surely it was working. Jedek chuckled to himself. Aerion had no idea how powerful he could be if he just gave in to his anger. The Sith Lord must tread carefully, though, for those same qualities he so desired to bring out in his captive could make Aerion a dangerous foe one day. No matter. He flicked off the monitor. It would be a long while before the lemorian gained that level of control and direction over his hate and anger.

Aerion Lyles stared dully across his cell. He slumped against the wall, the durasteel cold on his back. His black mane of hair, gone longish and lank, had long since escaped its tie to straggle around his face. Blood from the cut on his brow dripped into his right eye, coloring his vision red. Black despair at his predicament sank him into depression. His body ached from Jedek’s tortures. His arms were cramped and painful from being so long in the manacles. Dark Side energies scoured his brain every time he reached out to free himself and sleep was near impossible. He sighed. He was losing his grip and his convictions were starting to melt away. He could no longer remember why it was so important that he stay calm and centered. The pain and fear had gone on for too long, and hate and anger were taking their toll.

A dark chuckle from the direction of the cell’s door caught his attention. Aerion’s ears backed. “Leave me in peace, Valorn. Haven’t I suffered enough at your hand?”

The black wolf leaned against the door, arms crossed over his chest, and grinned. “Oh, not nearly enough, my boy.” The Sith flicked a claw and across the room Aerion gasped as another gash ripped open across his chest. “You know what will stop your torment.”

Aerion regarded the Sith through a mask of blood. “And you know I cannot do it.”

“You can, and you will, though your resistance in the meantime is amusing. I wonder, Aerion my boy, why you still fight me.” Valorn studied his defiant captive. “Your friends are all dead, as is your master. Surely there is nothing left to hold you to your old life…” The wolf’s blue eyes narrowed. “Or is there?”

The lemorian looked up sharply and cringed as the Sith locked gazes with him. With all his remaining strength, he fought Valorn as the wolf reached for memories kept locked away. No! He cried in his mind, before, exhausted, his barriers were shoved aside. He was forced back to the position of observer while the Sith rifled through his memories. In his weakened state, there was precious little the Jedi could do to defend himself. Aerion raged helplessly as Valorn flicked through tender moments with his former mate, the births of his children, and the horrific fights that had eventually driven him from his home.

Such temper, Aerion. I am astonished! The dark lord chuckled in the lemorian’s mind.

Get out, damn you! Aerion shot back.

Not just yet, my boy. Valorn focused in on one of Aerion’s last memories before leaving Lemoria Prime. His amusement as he watched the Jedi hug his oldest child, a daughter, goodbye, and heard Aerion’s anguished thoughts at having to leave her behind. Ahh, this one is special to you. Perhaps I should go and fetch her, if it would make you more receptive-

NO!

The Sith Lord’s amusement was palpable. My, that certainly provoked a response.

Please… Aerion hung his head. I- I will… Do as you ask. But leave my children alone!

Valorn mentally stepped back, smiling faintly as he released his hold. “For now, then, my Apprentice.” He flicked a finger and the manacles that held Aerion upright released, letting the lemorian slump to the floor. “Perhaps one day you will bring them to me… But not today. Stand up.” He commanded, and watched dispassionately as Aerion struggled to his feet, hate glinting in the younger male’s eyes.

“I am your Master now. You will obey me without question or hesitation, or you will suffer the consequences. Your first task, Apprentice, is to choose the name that defines the darkness within you. The fires of the Dark Side will burn away your weakness and past failures, but first the vessel must be made right. Choose, then.”

Aerion locked eyes with his new Master, feeling that somehow he had lost and yet won at the same time. By agreeing to Valorn’s wishes, he would sacrifice his own soul, but he might buy his children, his Zannah, time to grow up. It was not much, but it was a hope that his eldest, left in the care of a faithful friend, could learn to defend herself before the Sith came for her too. As it was, the only thing protecting his daughter was the word of the Sith Lord… But somehow he sensed Valorn meant what he said. His children were safe for the time being, but only because it amused Valorn to leave them that way.

“My name…” He paused and it came to him unbidden from the darkness. “My name is Drakkon.”

“Well, then, Apprentice,” Valorn pushed the cell door open and beckoned. “Come. Rest and refresh yourself. Now begins your new life, and it will be as if your old life never existed.”

“Yes…” The newly named Drakkon rubbed at his wrists and stepped away from the wall. “Master.”