AN: Yay! Chapter Five! I'm finally making some progress! It's been a challenging couple of months for me. I have started so many chapters between this fanfic (prequel) and my main fanfic that follows this, and it's just been super frustrating that none of my story is revealing itself to me in the right order! But, I'm not giving up! I won't bother promising set updates, I'm just going to have to do the best that I can when I have the time. Hopefully these last two chapters tide everyone over, they are unusually long for this particular story. I don't think the next few chapters will be as lengthy, but I guess we'll wait and see. Anyways, in case anyone was wondering, I figured I'd post our new characters name pronunciation. They're fairly easy to figure out, but better safe than sorry! Oh, and just because I'm super anal and meticulous, I'm throwing in a more detailed description of their appearance. Just humor me a little! Thanks! Enjoy the chapter. This is my favorite one so far.

Character Profiles:

Myka (MY-kah): Species - Human / Gender - Female / Skin Tone - Fair / Hair Color - Caramel Blonde / Eye Color - Russet Amber (think deep reds and oranges)

Vladik (VLAD-ick; short a like glad): Species - Human / Gender - Male / Skin Tone - Fair / Hair Color - Dark Golden Brown / Eye Color - Golden Amber (yellow-orange topaz shade, like the birthstone)

P.S. There WILL be more characters soon, and species is important because not everyone at the Praxeum is from the human race. You've probably already come to this conclusion, but these characters will play MAJOR roles throughout my fanfic series. Three guesses as to who they become. I'll give you a hint: if you need a second or third guess, you haven't been paying attention to the movies/canon novelizations. Get outta here and go learn things! (Jk... seriously though, we all know where this story leads. Don't play dumb.) Alright, I'm done harrassing you poor fanfic-ers for the day. As always, read it, review it, and give me some love! TTFN!

Chapter Five: They Lurk in The Shadows

One could never be sure who started the fight. After all, nobody had actually seen who shot first, and it was anyone's guess as to where it originated from. It's not as though the quick flip of a wrist or faint twitch of a finger could be easily pinpointed. The overwhelming amount of carnage was well dispersed throughout the mess hall. Those poor fish never stood a chance. Before anyone could bat an eye, the entire hall had erupted into boisterous chaos, and there was no escaping the battle unscathed. So, there they were, dozens of little padawan soldiers, maniacally cackling with impish grins as they flung mashed potato grenades and fired off pea bullets in rapid succession, riddling the air with a colorful array of mush and shredded filets.

It didn't take long for alliances to form. A few clever strategists took it upon themselves to split off into small clans and claim the titles of General and Commander. Some of the older padawans helped topple tables onto their sides, creating barricades that would shield them from the enemy's attacks. They wasted no time dragging their wounded to safety, gathering up as much ammo as they could find in their vicinity. A few casualties were caught between the main trenches in no being's land, and they quickly gave up, deciding it was safer to simply lie prostrate on the floor with their arms covering their heads, remaining motionless until a cease fire eventually took place.

It was a glorious affair, to be sure, made even more spectacular by… "innovative" applications of the force. Never let it be said that aspiring young Jedi knights were not resourceful, cunning, and creatively imaginative. Under ordinary circumstances, the war would have been over before it ever began. But today, Master Skywalker was out attending to some important business matter or other, and he wasn't expected to return for several hours. So, imagine their mortified surprise when roughly twenty minutes into their warfare, an extremely irate Luke entered the dining area, his commanding presence abruptly ending the battle cries and flying projectiles.

A stray pea whizzed past his ear and was instantly squashed between his thumb and forefinger, courtesy of years spent refining Jedi reflexes. Somewhere, on the opposite side of the cafeteria, a utensil dropped. Several moments passed, chock-full of searing, unadulterated trepidation. The only sound that penetrated the profound suspension were several erratic heartbeats, blood pumping wildly in youngling ears. Once the adrenaline had brusquely fled their systems, the Jedi Master opened his mouth to speak. He was quiet, his voice low and calm, but his stern tone rang clearly throughout the lunchroom.

"What, is the meaning of this?"

All eyes in the room were transfixed on him, rigid bodies planted firmly to their spots. Nobody dared to move. There was no breathing. Not even a blink. Luke took a single step forward and observed the mutinous scene before him. He addressed them all again, as cool and collected as ever, despite the fire in his eyes and his faintly flushed complexion.

"I do believe, I asked a question."

A pregnant pause lingered. He raised his voice a pitch higher.

"Who here can tell me why a peaceful meal has been thrown into such a disgraceful state of mayhem and misconduct?"

He began to leisurely pace around the room, scrupulously scanning so that his gaze settled upon each and every face, until they grew increasingly uncomfortable and were forced to avert their eyes. Several students now shifted under his soul-piercing stare, a few uneasy coughs breaking the silence here and there. Still, not a single one was brave enough to come forward and verify what instigated the debacle. Though Luke was already certain he knew who the perpetrators were. Three prime suspects just so happened to be standing in the eye of the storm, the presumed ground zero judging by the obscene amounts of minced flesh and pulped veggies. The culprits in question refused to unglue their eyes from the floor as Luke traversed the room with purposeful steps.

He came to a stop not three feet from the trio and examined them thoroughly from head to toe. Myka's cheeks were painted a lovely shade of crimson, a bit of green and cream smudged atop the bridge of her nose. She cautiously ventured to angle her head, just enough to direct an incensed scowl at her brother as she clenched her fists tightly to her sides. Vladik, edible war paint smeared across his forehead and below his eyes, was exercising all his willpower not to sneer at her in defiant contempt. But Luke ignored them both, focusing instead on red-tipped ears, slumped shoulders, and low-hung head with plastered hair of one perturbed Ben Solo. The Jedi Master crossed his arms, tapping a slender finger just above his elbow in expectation. Ben took his time lifting his eyes to meet his uncle's.

"Ben."

"Master Skywalker."

"Is there something you'd like to tell me?"

Ben hesitated. He wasn't all that inclined to rat out his comrades, and he certainly didn't care for the way his uncle was always quick to assume that he was the sole instigator of any hijinks that took place around the Praxeum. He warily cocked his head to one side as he sluggishly drawled.

"Not particularly…"

Luke's brow peaked, a warning flashing across his face. This prompted Ben to quickly amend his statement. He nervously cleared his throat.

"I mean… no sir."

Luke nodded with a hum, lifting his hand to stroke his chin in deep contemplation.

"I see..."

He then turned to confront Myka and Vladik, who were still locked in a glaring match.

"And what about you two? Is there something you'd like to share with the rest of the class?"

They stiffened, snapping their heads towards him simultaneously. A thin sheen of sweat was developing above Vladik's brow. Myka swallowed thickly, pale and paralyzed under Luke's scrutinizing eye. They answered in unison.

"No, Master Skywalker."

He hummed again.

"Well. It seems we've reached an impasse."

Myka, Vladik, and Ben lowered their heads again, each shuffling their feet and fidgeting awkwardly as Luke bore into them with laser-like vision. He eased up after a moment, relaxing his tone as he addressed the issue at hand.

"What do you suggest we do to remedy the situation?"

The padawan threesome sheepishly looked up at him, knowing full well that he already had the appropriate solution in mind. There was no point in responding to rhetorical questions. They knew what their punishment would be, even without the force pushing his utter disappointment at them in persistently nagging waves. He nodded, letting out a pensive sigh as he clasped his hands behind his back. It was the confirmation of a verdict reached.

"Well then. You better get started."

He turned to delegate orders to the rest, everyone soundlessly ogling him in restless anticipation.

"I expect this place to be spotless within the hour. You will all work together to scrub down every nook and cranny, and then you will get yourselves cleaned up and dressed in fresh clothes. Afterwards, I should think you would all like to be dismissed to privately meditate for the rest of the day and reflect on your actions, wouldn't you agree?"

The resounding, conditioned response echoed submissively through the air in one monotonous voice.

"Yes, Master Skywalker."

"Very good."

Luke shooed them with a wave of his hand, and they immediately set about their tasks, murmuring amongst themselves in hushed tones. He then resumed his discourse with the rebellious triad.

"You three will be responsible for laundry duties in addition to your janitorial obligations here. I predict that each of you will be spending the majority of your spare time in rapt meditation for the next two weeks. There will be no unsupervised free periods around the Praxeum until your probation is lifted. It's more than fair, considering the circumstances. Do we have an understanding?"

They accepted the final ruling in tandem, respectfully nodding in compliance.

"Yes, Master Skywalker."

He returned their gesture in kind.

"That is all. You are dismissed."

As Luke turned to leave the room, a sea of soiled beige tunics and food-stained faces parted for him, watching in awe as he seemingly floated across the floor, his Jedi robes flowing gracefully behind him. Once he was finally out of sight, the band of trouble-makers carried on with their chores, chirpily prattling now that they were no longer in fear for their lives. Ben and his roguish partners in crime began righting the tables and collecting dishes and cutlery to stack, readying them to be passed off to the designated dishwashers. They worked in silent rumination, hardly acknowledging each other as they worked. Myka seemed especially skittish as they slaved away, glancing towards the cafeteria every few minutes. After a while, she apprehensively whispered to the boys.

"Do you think he's still watching us?"

Vladik snorted pompously, stating his opinion with a certain matter-of-factness that had Ben shaking his head and rolling his eyes. Here we go again.

"Of course, he is. Master Skywalker sees all and knows all. He uses the force to spy on us, even in our quarters past curfew. How else would he know when someone stays up after lights out?"

A terse, guttural growl escaped Myka's lips, and in a rash fit of frustration, she suddenly swung at Vladik, landing a solid blow to his shoulder. He howled in pain, reflexively settling into a defensive stance, but Myka ignored his invitation for another fight, opting to wield her tongue like a double-edged vibroblade and save the hand-to-hand combat for another time.

"You're positively obnoxious, Vlad. Ever the outlandish conspiracist. This is all your fault, you know! You and your stupid ego got us into this mess. I hope you trip and land face first in bantha fodder!"

Vladik indignantly countered in disbelief, feeling tremendously affronted by his sister's accusation.

"Me?! You shot first, madame force fingers. Your trigger-happy force tantrum was the catalyst for all this. I was just the victim! An unwillingparticipant in your hormone-induced rampage! You went on a full-blown assaultspree and used me as target practice! You should be thanking me for not expressing my brotherlyconcern to Master Skywalker about your little episode. After all, a padawan caught having an emotional breakdown is a serious issue."

"Unwilling my ass! And are you kriffing kidding me right now?! I know you did not just threa- "

Ben was at the end of his rope, and he refused to suffer through this sithspit any longer. He unceremoniously cut Myka off and vehemently made his aggravation known.

"Could we please, for the love of the force, just… maybe not start this again?! I think being mentally dissected by my uncle once today was enough. I couldn't care less about who started what, but I'd be more than happy to finish it at this point! Seriously… if you must murder each other, could you do it swiftly and silently, so we can all just get on with it? Is that too much to ask?!"

The obstinate rivals pressed their lips in thin lines, stealing bloodthirsty glances at each other before finally yielding, both admittedly starting to feel deflated and tired of the sport. Vladik cast his eyes downwards as he awkwardly ran his fingers through his hair, scratching the back of his neck. Meanwhile, Myka stepped forward to face Ben directly. He had crossed his arms and looked, quite frankly, disconcerting, with his intense eyes and brooding visage. She could see a certain family resemblance to his uncle, if Luke had darker, more prominent features and looked as though he carried the weight of the galaxy on his shoulders.

There were times when Luke felt that way, of course, but Ben… Ben was withdrawn and had a fatalistic outlook on life. His soulful eyes were old and weary, as if he'd battled through many a tragic war, too much for someone so young. He seemed to draw a darkness around him wherever he went, though it rarely revealed itself long enough to be noticed by most. Myka had a knack for discerning such minute details, however, and she could see past his standoffish indifference, where a more vulnerable, sensitive Ben hid behind a makeshift mask. Despite his outward, stoic disposition, Ben was, in truth, very compassionate, and he preferred to avoid conflict and confrontation whenever possible. It was one of the many things that endeared him to Myka. She felt as though they were kindred spirits, the three of them. As often as they were at each other's throats, they would take up arms without a second thought to stand by one another, when it really counted. The deep-seated kinship they shared would always prevail over anything else. She took a deep breath and offered him an apologetic smile.

"I'm sorry, Ben. You're right. It's our fault you got in trouble with us. Well… mostly Vladik's fault, but, I'm still sorry you got blamed for it. I heard the way Master Skywalker questioned you. You didn't deserve to get caught in the crossfire like that."

Vladik grumbled half-heartedly, unwillingly to bite his tongue for longer than three seconds at a time, though his normal bluster was considerable subdued now.

"Mostly my fault? Look who's being immature now…"

Myka compulsively rolled her eyes to the back of her head with a spasmodic flutter of lids.

"Can it, you nerf-herder. At least I'm willing to admit fault and properly apologize."

Ben startled them as he impatiently cleared his throat. He pushed his hands at them emphatically, signaling a demand for silence. With threatening eyes and gritted teeth, he ground out orders, vexation charging his tone for added impact.

"Enough already! Look… we've got a sith-ton of cleaning to do, and I, for one, have no desire to be mopping up slop all night with you two bucketheads. If you want to continue your ridiculous little power struggle after we're done, then fine. But for now, let's just all shut up and get this over with. Alright?! At this rate, we're never sleeping again."

The ferocity of his tone caught them off guard. Ben had unknowingly used more force to convey his message than he realized. The unintentional side effect caused Myka and Vladik to temporarily lapse into a hushed daze. The feeling passed almost instantly, but none of them quite knew how to respond to the bizarre occurrence. So, they ignored it. Myka nodded in agreement with Ben and began wiping off the nearest table with a kitchen rag that had been dropped off by one of the other kids during their squabble. Vladik gave a disgruntled huff and peevishly conceded for the sake of their sanity so they could follow through with their community service.

"Fine."

The rest of their time in the mess hall was relatively uneventful. Luke came to inspect their work at the end of the hour. Everyone lined up along the wall near the main entrance as they waited for Master Skywalker to give his final verdict. Once he was satisfied with his assessment, he gave his stamp of approval and released the padawans to their quarters. They would all still have to shower, of course, but there was nothing else to be done for the day, and they gratefully took their leave without complaint. Myka's and Vladik's huts were adjacent to each other near the main temple, while Ben's hut was the furthest away from everyone. He'd requested to stay at a distance from the other padawans when he was a little older than Myka, claiming that he meditated better when he had space to breathe. Luke had argued with him at first, but he soon won that battle, pestering his uncle daily for almost two weeks. He knew Luke didn't really buy his illogical motivation, and, truth be told, Ben wasn't really sure why he felt the need to isolate himself any more than his uncle was. He only knew he felt a strong desire to do so, for reasons unknown.

The three of them walked together towards the padawan quarters, taking their time before parting ways. They casually discussed forms they'd been recently learning, avoiding any more controversial topics that could potentially lead to further outbursts. However, they ultimately did broach the subject consuming everyone's thoughts as they reached Vladik's and Myka's rooms. Myka was picking food particles from her hair as the boys attempted to shake off caked on mush from their shoes and pant legs. A large glob of mashed potato sat on top of Ben's unruly mop, having miraculously survived his constant movements until just now, when it plopped onto his shoulder. Myka giggled, provoking Ben to glare at her with narrow, beady eyes. She took his flustered demeanor in stride, reaching out to brush the offending glop off his shoulder. His irritation was quickly replaced with embarrassment, and his blush reached the tip of his ears, which only made her giggle more, mirthful chortles echoing through the atmosphere. Vladik elbowed Ben's ribs and made a show of circling a finger by his ear as he nodded towards Myka. She gasped between peals of laughter.

"You… have to… admit… it was… pretty awesome! That was… the most fun… I've had in ages!"

She beamed at them as she caught her breath, struggling to regain control of her senses. Vladik joined in with a chuckle and a sly grin. He tilted his head to the side and began slapping himself with his hand, pretending to joggle something free from his ear. Presumably, his brain… according to Ben. Vladik quipped wryly.

"Yeah… but I'll have mashed potatoes clogging up my ears for days at this point."

The misfit pair were acting battier than a malfunctioning protocol droid, and it was all Ben could do not to slap them upside their heads. He settled for an apathetic eyeroll. They calmed down after a couple of minutes, and Vladik clapped his hand on Ben's shoulder, flashing a rascally grin.

"What do you think, Ben? Was it worth it to let loose and break the rules a little?"

Ben's face screwed into an unreadable expression as he debated how to best respond to that. Was it worth it? His closest companions were crazed, cheeky miscreants who couldn't manage to stay out of trouble for more than half a day. His uncle already thinks he's the bad influence and the likely source for all things gone awry inside the academy walls. Never mind the fact that he suffers from dark nightmares he can never remember, giving him a constant sense of foreboding and restlessness. And he can't forget about his painstakingly kept secret involving a little girl halfway across the galaxy, who force visits him in the wee hours of the night. If his uncle had half a clue about what was going on in Ben's life, he'd probably ship him home and tell his mother to have him committed somewhere. The only way to deal with the darkness that Ben felt bubbling up deep within him at times was to keep his head down and steer himself as far away from other people's shenanigans and pranks as he could.

So far, it wasn't quite working out since these two lunatics had permanently attached themselves to him like extra appendages. But he couldn't tell them that. He couldn't tell anybody what he was really thinking most of the time. And he wouldn't anyways, because they may be impulsive hotheads who got their thrills from walking the wire, but they were also his friends. His only friends. His best friends. And even though he knew he could trust them, something in his gut told him that they would be safer, the less they knew. He wouldn't even know how to begin explaining all the things that constantly swam through his brain. It was better to deflect and give vague answers, or no answer at all, than to risk confiding in the wrong person about his inner turmoil. He sighed and forced a smile, his lop-sided grin pasted on and out of place, like the gluey mess covering him from head to toe.

"What do I think? I think… I think… I. Kriffing. Hate. Peas."

They lurk in the shadows. Stealthy and menacing. Silently prowling. Waiting to devour. They cause hairs to stand on end. They send chills down shivering spines and coax gooseflesh to spread over every inch of exposed, tender skin. They haunt in dreams from dusk til dawn, only receding to the subconscious corners of the mind once daylight breaks. And even then, they linger, behind the curtain of the mind, whispering reminders that they will return when night falls again. It's a predictable cycle as sure as the changing of seasons. It's hard to escape from monsters, even when you know they're coming. Ben was becoming all too familiar with them, invading his mind in the dead of night. He dreaded the rising moon. The freckled starry sky. It meant it was time to lie down and rest. But he never rested. Even as he slept. The terrors would come and drag him into darkness again. This night would be no different from the others.

The sobs reached his ears first. Pitiful, broken little cries, from a small child shrouded by the dark. It was always dark. Never-ending blackness. It never got any easier, having to adjust to the cold and emptiness of the dream world. Not that he truly ever could. Everything was so severe and unforgiving to the senses. His head would throb, having to suffer the roaring sound of blood pumping in his ears. His skin would prickle with terror at the thought of what might be lying in wait for him. His mouth would run dry and his eyes would feel as though they were being repeatedly stabbed as he tried to blindly navigate the astral plane. But despite the overwhelming sensory input, he was still aware of what was going on around him. The soft, doleful weeping distracted him from his discomfort. The child mumbled between snotty sniffles.

"Please don't leave. Don't let the monsters get me. I'm scared. Don't leave me here… please…"

An eerie blue light faintly glowed in the distance, gradually growing brighter to gently light up the room. Ben blinked several times as he readjusted, scanning his surroundings in search of the source of the despondent whimpers.

"Hello? Who's there?"

A startled cry gave him pause. The light flickered in and out, in sync with the increased wailing, as though each sob were siphoning off of whatever energy was flowing through the dark space. Ben strained his ears, cautiously following the sound of feeble whispers.

"Please don't let the monsters get me… please don't let the monsters get me… please don't let the monsters get me…"

Ben continued forward, slowly inching towards the voice, one step at a time. The pulsing glow persisted. Rhythmic blue wisps of illumination. Flicker. Step, one… two… three… Flicker. Step, four... five… six… Flicker. Step, seven… eight… nine…

"Hello? Can you hear me?"

A small, quaking form began to take shape several paces in front of him. Scrawny arms wrapped around knobby knees. A dark head of curls buried between them. The child rocked back and forth, blubbering between shaky, hiccupped prayers.

"Please… don't let… the monsters… get me… please don't let… the monsters get me… please… don't…"

Ben gently approached, stopping to crouch a few feet away from the tensed up, frightened youngling. He spoke in soft, hushed tones so as not to startle the little one.

"Hey… it's ok. What's wrong? You can tell me…"

The weeping stopped suddenly, and Ben could just make out the imperceptible jerk of a head as tiny ears perked up at the sound of his voice. They both sat unmoving for several moments. The child was paralyzed, hitched breaths still occasionally renting the air. Ben tried to assure the youngling again.

"It's ok. I don't bite… really. I promise."

The dark little head lifted slightly higher, as tiny hands warily loosened their grip from around tightly tucked legs. Another hiccup broke the silence, but still, Ben received no response. He repositioned himself, fully lowering his body into a sitting posture on the floor. He crossed his legs and rested his elbows on his knees, folding his hands loosely. He tilted his head as he eyed the young… Boy? Girl? No. Not a girl. This was definitely a little boy. Ben carefully offered his hand and made one more attempt to engage the child in conversation.

"Are you lost? I can help you… won't you tell me your name?"

Ben dipped his head, hoping to catch the boy's eye as he gave a small smile, his hand still suspended between them. The youngling seemed to hesitate, staring at Ben's upturned palm as he considered whether or not Ben could be trusted. Another moment passed before he finally ventured to reach out his own hand and lift his head, traces of snot and tears smeared across his cheeks. Their eyes locked, and Ben sharply gasped in recognition. It was like looking into a time-warped mirror. Rich brown eyes quizzically stared at him, and he dumbfoundedly stared back… at a younger version of himself.

Ben swallowed dryly as the boy furrowed his brows in confusion. Their hands still hovered in the air, fingers nearly touching now. Young Ben opened his mouth to speak, but before he could say anything, a door suddenly swung open behind Ben, startling them both as a blinding light pierced the space. Ben whipped around and raised the back of his hand to shield his eyes, squinting at the blurred form in the doorway. The boy had also snapped his head toward the towering figure, a man's silhouette becoming clearer as the light softened around him. A deep, stern voice disapprovingly resonated in their ears.

"Ben! What are you doing here? This room is off limits. I've been looking for you everywhere. You can't keep disappearing like this. You know better."

The boy sprung to his feet, trembling in trepidation. He hung his head and quickly sniffed, rubbing at his eye before wiping his nose with a damp sleeve, hastily trying to remove the evidence of his emotional disarray.

"I'm… sorry… Master Skywalker…"

Luke frowned at his nephew's disheveled appearance, but quickly softened his gaze as sorrowful eyes met his. He purposefully closed the gap between them, unaware of Ben's presence in the shadows. Luke knelt down on one knee and rested a strong, warm hand on young Ben's shoulder. His tone was gentle and quiet.

"You've been crying again."

The boy shifted on his feet and averted his eyes back to the floor as he nervously replied.

"Yes… u-unc- Master… I'm… s-sorry…"

Luke sighed empathetically, a twinge of guilt pricking his heart as he reminded himself how scared and lonely Ben must feel, having just left his mother's side only a couple of weeks ago, at such a tender age.

"It's alright. You can call me uncle Luke. There's nobody here but us now. Come here."

He spread his arms to embrace his nephew, and Ben clumsily stumbled into him as fresh tears spilled over, trailing down irritated cheeks to moisten chapped, quivering lips and drip off his chin. Luke allowed him to cry into his shoulder, rubbing his back as he patiently waited for him to calm down. Once his breathing began to steady, and his weepy eyes had dried, Luke gradually pulled away and grasped his shoulders once again. He searched his eyes as he spoke kindly, but firmly.

"Ben… it is not good to run away and hide from our fears. Fear is the path to the dark side."

The boy nodded, his face aflush with guilty shame. Luke further admonished him, though his mild tone never wavered.

"You must learn to control your emotions. You are very young. It is understandable for you to feel scared. But you must not dwell on it. Tears have their time and place, of course. But not here. Not like this. Do you understand?"

Ben faintly dipped his head in acknowledgement, breathing deeply to re-center himself.

"Yes, Mas- I mean… uncle Luke. I understand."

"Good. Very good. Come now. Let's get you cleaned up and wash your face. We should be getting back to the others soon, before they start to wonder what we've been up to."

A hint of a smile crossed Luke's face as he stood and took his nephew by the hand, leading him through the doorway and out into the light. The boy gave a fleeting glance over his shoulder before the door shut and vanished into thin air. Ben was left sitting in the dark, speechless as he tried to process the long-forgotten memory. It wasn't until a sinister laugh, coming from behind him, broke through his troubled contemplations that he realized he was unable to move. He bristled at the sound, futilely struggling to turn and face the ominous voice. His voice. It hissed tauntingly in his ear.

"Yesss, young Sssolo. Fear is the path to the dark ssside. You must learn to control your emotionsss."

Another horrifying chuckle assaulted his senses, causing him to inwardly cringe. He derided him knowingly, his accusation reeking with perverse glee.

"But you never have… have you?"

A hot, putrid smell permeated the air, stinging Ben's nostrils as he writhed, and an immense pressure started to build at the base of his brain. His heart was beating rapidly, blood painfully pumping in his ears, like so many times before. He felt icy tendrils raking across the edges of his mind, licking his brain with prickling, frigid heat. He could hear the voice smile as He retreated from his thoughts, pondering in amusement at what he found.

"Yesss… you have much to fear… you dwell on it, day and night. Conssstantly dwelling."

Sweat dripped into Ben's eyes and the dark cold bit into his bones, spreading through the marrow like a cancerous poison. He was vaguely aware that he was screaming inside of his head, but his throat felt strangled, and he couldn't open his mouth to make noise. The voice maniacally cackled, breathing hotly down Ben's neck.

"Come… embrace the fear, young Sssolo. Dwell on it. Let it ssshow you the truth… the path to the dark ssside. Come to me… let me ssshow you the dark."

The crushing, malevolent weight unexpectedly lifted, freeing Ben to move his limbs and speak. He cried out and instantly launched himself forward, breaking into a sprint to escape the hell beast. A massive black claw emerged from the shadows and swiftly clutched Ben in its grasp, dragging him back into the slowly collapsing void. He screeched and thrashed violently, exhausting his energy in an attempt to escape the fearsome talons. The sadistic laughter roared thunderously as the nasty hooks dug into him further, eliciting pathetic yelps from his bruised, abraded trachea. He winced and lolled his head listlessly, his vision tunneling. The claw rapidly retracted, carelessly flailing him like a ragdoll, the whiplash causing him to go numb. Once his body failed him and his brain began to shut down, he finally gave into the suffocating despair and welcomed the nearing abyss. Within seconds, Ben blacked out.

Eyes flew open and a tortured gasp wrenched free from his lungs as he jolted upright in his bed. He was drenched in sweat and his skin was clammy. His body was on fire and his head pounded excruciatingly as he leaned forward to brutally cough, his cords chafing together like sandpaper. Emotions swirled frantically around him like a destructive tornado, and he couldn't find an anchor within the force to pull himself back into control. So, he slumped to the floor and took ragged breaths, not daring to move until the debilitating fear and nausea began to subside.

The pain ebbed after a few minutes, giving him enough energy to push himself onto his knees. He stared ahead at the wall, dazed and confused as images from his nightmare flashed through his mind. But the memories were already fading, slipping from his grasp. He panicked as he struggled to hold on, to remember what happened, and he scrambled to his feet, traversing from the bed to his desk to turn on a lamp before pacing about. As his heart gradually returned to a steady thrum, he came to sit back down at the edge of the bed. With slumped shoulders and aching bones, he tiredly rubbed at his temples.

The night was clear and still, inviting him to let go of his fears and let cool waves of peace wash over him and soothe him back to sleep. His mental body and survival instincts told him to protest, but his physical body was worn and weak. The will of his flesh soon won out and he laid down again, not bothering to go turn off the lamp. As he slowly began to doze off, a gentle breeze drifted through the window of his hut, swirling lazily over his head and tousling loose locks of dampened hair. Soft, ethereal voices carried along the wind, lulling him to sleep as they sang of enchanting fairytales with happily ever afters, and ancient prophecies foretelling the rise of chosen ones. But before he re-entered the realm of dreams, the voices whispered a protective warning to ward off evil forces in play. Beware the monsters. They lurk in the shadows.