Hey guys, sorry it's been so long. Here's the second chapter! I hope you enjoy~

Chapter 2

"Get up, you lot. Up and at 'em…Today's a big day for you, ain't it. I said GET UP!"

The voice roared through the still air, disturbing the bodies that lay sprawled across the floor, awakening them from whatever stupor that they had been induced into. In one corner, Reivyn stirred, opening her eyes groggily, her pale face caked with dirt from the floor. Her hair was in disarray, and she spat as she sat up, the deep blue tint of sarkhai blood dotting the floor where it hit.

"Reivyn…"

Reivyn's head instantly jumped to the source of the voice, listening carefully to determine who it was. "Fabian?"

The boy laughed, a strange sound in this place, and the two moved closer to one another, taking comfort in the presence of the other. "Right here. Where do you think we are?"

Reivyn shrugged and leaned against the wall, thinking. Her eyes ran over the armored soldier that walked among them, kicking some of their fellow captives to awaken them if they did not respond physically to his verbal commands. His armor was black with streaks of crimson, and the imperial insignia was emblazoned boldly on his shoulder piece. He didn't wear a helmet, and even in the dim light Reivyn could see the ugly scar that ran diagonally from one side of his face to the other, an eye patch covering the eye that should have appeared beneath the scar. His face was streaked with dirt, and seemed to possess the awful gift of an eternal scowl, which he now turned on Reivyn, his good eye scrutinizing her intently. She stared back vehemently, meeting his gaze evenly, and after a few moments he grunted and moved back to the front of the room they were in.

"All right you lot, we'll be landing on Korriban soon, and I want everybody," he kicked a small, frail body that hadn't sat up yet, "to be ready to leave at the drop of a can. Anybody who isn't standing by the time I get back will get a bird's-eye view of this tomb of a world – from outside the ship. Any questions?"

With that, the massive soldier stormed through a door in the side, and they could hear a dull clink as the door was locked. There were no other exits – or windows.

Reivyn shivered as she stood up with the rest of those in the room, none of them wanting to risk guessing when the soldier would be back. They didn't bother talking anymore, but there had never been much talk in the beginning anyway. They were all different ages and genders, but Reivyn was the youngest of all of them. As they waited, Reivyn closed her eyes, trying to remember what had happened to them.

After the scene in the village they had been taken by someone…the soldier? Somehow he didn't fit the profile of the lean, dark shape she had seen striding towards her as she fell in and out of consciousness.

They had been taken to a spaceport where they had been thrown into the ship – this room – like trash. She remembered the huge soldier accompanied by three others looking down at her and saying something…then nothing. After that was only the intermittent arrivals of food and water, the dull hum of the engines far beneath, and the cold, endless stretch of space as the days flew by. Fabian had been unconscious the entire time, whether from shock or fatigue she had no idea. One thing was for certain, though.

This was nothing like she had imagined.

The ship suddenly dropped, and several of the others in the room stumbled, keeping their footing only through the fear the soldier had inspired through his promise of what would happen if they didn't. They were in no hurry to test whether he included falling with his nothing-but-standing rule. As the ship leveled out and seemed to slow down, the door hissed open, the three soldiers and their leader – the massive intimidating one - stepped into the room, the three soldiers organizing those in the room into rows as the leader stood in front.

"Welcome to Korriban," he said, his gaze sweeping all of them. "What it is doesn't matter, for most of you it'll be the last thing you see before you die. You are all here for a reason: you're force-sensitive. There are only two kinds of force-sensitive people here – those who make it through my training, and the dead." Fabian looked nervously at Reivyn, but she kept her gaze leveled at the soldier speaking, determined not to give him the satisfaction of scaring her. "I hope you're all prepared, because I'm going to make the next three years of your life hell."

With that, he turned to face the empty wall, the ship coming to a landing a few seconds later. Then, suddenly, the wall began to lift, and Reivyn saw that it was actually a cargo bay door. The leader stepped out into the red, dusty world, and the force-sensitives followed him, their eyes adjusting to the bright sun. The soldiers pushed the group to a jog, heading out into what seemed like a wasteland, and as Reivyn looked back at the ship, she thought she saw a man in a dark Imperial uniform tilt his hat at her from the shadows beneath the shuttle, and though it may have been her imagination, she thought she saw him whisper "good luck" to her before a soldier grabbed her head and spun it around to the front again, reminding her to pay attention.

"What's wrong?" Fabian whispered to her out of the corner of his mouth, his voice concerned.

"I just remembered," Reivyn said, looking up at the foreign sky, "It's my birthday today."

Their small group ran through the entire day and into the night, finally coming to a stop at a small walled camp comprised of only a few cabins and what looked like an armory. They were marched into the middle, where the soldiers left them to tend to the defenses, along with other soldiers Reivyn had seen as they entered. The leader walked to the front of them, though, where another small group waited.

"Look at you," he laughed, enjoying their suffering. "Out of breath and weak. You're nothing, all of you will probably die by the end of the week. These, though," he motioned with his hand to the small group next to him, "These are true sith, the best of the best. They'll outstrip any one of you in any challenge and then some. They deserve to be acolytes. They are the ones who will advance to the Sith Academy at the end of their three years."

Reivyn examined the five acolytes in front of the group of force-sensitives. From the stories she had heard from passing soldiers back on Balmorra, she recognized the two humans, a zabrak, and two sith purebloods, one male and one female. All of them were dressed in sturdy, durable leather, prepared for the trials of the desert, and were already extremely muscular and well-formed. Compared to the frail forms of most of the force-sensitives in their tattered, rural clothing, the difference between the two groups was evident.

One of the sith purebloods, the male, met her eyes as they flitted over the acolyte's forms. In his eyes was nothing, simply looking down on her like a ruler looks down on a farmer. She looked into his eyes, hating him for what he was, for where they were. He was the elite, the best of the best, the one who would constantly lead the group and never be surpassed.

She would be better.

"Hey…Reivyn…" Fabian said, nervous. "Are we going to be ok?"

Reivyn's eyebrows shot up in surprise. It was usually he who was reassuring her that everything was going to be ok. "Yes," she said, smiling reassuringly, "everything's going to be fine."

"Alright you lot, to your barracks. I'll see you bright and early tomorrow," roared the enormous soldier, clapping his hands and pointing dangerously at the buildings. "Now GO TO SLEEP."

Over the next few weeks, the group fell into a strict regime, but every day Reivyn pushed herself harder, farther than the others. Their day would begin with a five-mile run followed by an obstacle course custom made by the leader, who after discovering his rank from another soldier by accident, began to be called Cap. The obstacle course was simple…in theory. A simple swim, followed by a run across logs, followed by rock climbing, finishing up with abseiling to the bottom of the opposite side of the cliff. Only they had to swim across a river, and the logs' tips were sharpened, and that there was no equipment to pass the hundred meter cliffs. Of the twenty acolytes, including the lead group, seven had died by the end of the first week, and another two after that – none of the deaths being from the lead group.

Reivyn was initially horrified by the deaths of her fellow acolytes, but after time and time again of lifting the broken and bleeding body of one of her companions out into the middle of the desert where scavengers would tear the body apart, she became indifferent. Fabian, though, still averted his eyes in disgust to the life that had been lost, though. Reivyn continued to comfort him, and despite him being two years older felt that it was she who was the one growing the most, becoming the most comfortable with their training.

If they survived the morning, then they ran the five miles back to their camp, where they were allowed to eat their one meal of the day. It was the only time the soldiers showed any emotion at all, sitting next to acolytes and giving them advice or comforting them, though the Cap stayed out of these things, preferring to sharpen his combat knife – which he kept strapped to his chest – guarding the single gate alone. There was no kitchen, and all the food was prepared outside on camp fires by slaves, which the lead group casually maimed, mimicking their style of living with their sith parents. Fabian had befriended one of the soldiers – a young, blond boy who always smiled – and had taken to sitting with him at lunch instead of Reivyn. She, for her part, would sit alone on a rock near the Cap, watching the sun cross the sky and reflect off the knife as it was sharpened again, and again, and again. There were no words spoken between them, and though Cap ignored Reivyn, focusing on his ritual, there was a quiet acceptance between the two of them.

After lunch the Cap lead them to an open, flat area, where he taught them how to fight. He taught them how to fight without a weapon, with a training sabre, and even with the objects around them, progressively stepping up their level of competency as the days went by, though they never trained with the force. If he caught one of them using the force to help bolster an area of weakness he would make them run laps around the compound until they passed out, afterwards saying "See, kid? You're only limited by your own abilities, and when you realize that-" he jabs them with an armored finger "you'll toughen up and learn to rely on yourself. Then I'll let you use the force."

He once backhanded one of the lead group – one of the humans – for talking back. "Everywhere you go in the Empire you'll have to answer to a higher authority, kid, and who that is – whether it's me or the emperor – depends on how well you perform. So I'll say this one more time to all of you…" he glared at each person gathered around him, "in the real world you talk back to authority you die…and if I'm not mistaken I outrank you, acolyte."

After that there were no more problems.

Cap would train them hard until it became full-dark, then he would train them some more, developing their abilities for night battles. Once back in their barracks – girls one barrack, boys one barrack, and the lead group had their own mixed barrack – he would proceed from building to building overseeing the y(end-of-day)-drill. In quick succession they would all do fifty push-ups, fifty sit-ups, and fifty squats, repeating until he was satisfied.

The day after Cap's speech about authority, during the lead group's y-drill, those in the other barracks heard laughing, then a single shot, putting an end to the laughter. Cap emerged after completing the drill with the other human in his arms – dead – and threw him over the wall. Apparently he had refused to do the drill – not because he couldn't, or was too tired, but because he didn't feel like it, or wanted to see what would happen. He believed that his status would keep him safe… it didn't.

After the drill, Cap turned off the lights and locked the door with two heavy bars – something impossible for an acolyte to break out of – and lay out with the rest of the soldiers around a campfire, laughing and talking until they felt like sleeping. Their armor must have been comfortable, because Reivyn never saw any of them without it on – bar the helmets.

This was the time Reivyn used for her own training. She was bunked on the top bunk near a window, and had used her nails to loosen one of the long, horizontal window panes, which she then slid on the inside of the other one. After quietly doing that, she would squeeze out the window and scale the wall noiselessly, which she learned from hours and hours of scaling the cliff in Cap's obstacle course. Outside, she spent the majority of the night hardening her body with endless repetition of exercises, and even miles of running, jumping, and climbing in the dry, dusty landscape. The daily exercises became easier and easier, and she began supporting Fabian even more because of this, promising herself that she wouldn't let anything happen to him. When Cap dumped the body of the human in the lead group over the wall she later retrieved the clothes and equipment from it, giving Fabian the boy's clothes, all of which he rejected because of his revulsion at the blood which covered the clothes: whether it was from the klor-slugs which wandered onto the sparring field or from helping carry the dead acolytes was unknown, but they were good clothes, strong garments and what Reivyn saw as essential.

The next day, she walked out to Cap dressed in her leather, plus a short hooded top that was cut off at the shoulders and exposed her naval for easier movement, her flawless pale skin exposed like a challenge to the others. She had spent all night altering the seams and lengths to fit her body, using her own hair in a fashion her mother taught her, and she was well-pleased with her result. Cap grunted in acknowledgement but otherwise ignored her, moving on to start the daily routine.

Looking over at Fabian, she smiled reassuringly, letting him know that she was there for him, her best friends.

She would protect him in these trials.

She would not lose.

~2 YEARS LATER~

The sun beat down mercilessly on the hard, dry earth, giving those who stood there observing the scene in front of them a harsh reminder as to what planet they were on. Dust swirled up from where two figure's feet touched the ground as they raced across it, far faster than any of the observers could follow. Their steps were lithe, smooth, and natural, and as they raced towards, past, and around each other they created a seamless harmony – a song, almost – of beautiful, pure violence. The only sound disturbing the two was the constant sound of a training sabre striking another as they fought the last bout of the day, fully aware of the eyes that were watching them.

The two fighters were remarkable in their fury. Sparks flew when their blades met, and it wasn't for show, either – they were seriously going all-out to defeat the other, and it was a terrible and awe-inspiring sight to watch. One of the fighters was a sith pureblood, his rich red skin only surpassed by his crimson-red eyes which gazed unblinkingly at his foe, his tall, muscled body twice the size and power of his two years ago, and though he dwarfed his opponent he was out of his league.

The second fighter moved with a grace that belied her small form, though she too had grown much since two years ago. Her muscles – though they did not budge – were harder, her hair was tied up in the back, her chest was fuller, and she had curves in all the right places. Her hands wore finger gloves, and swung the sabre with incredible dexterity and power, her eyes flashing deadly violet in the late afternoon light, her white skin tinted with the orange of the setting sun. Her legs and elbows were exactly where she wanted them to be, using more than just her weapon to keep her enemy on his toes. She was a perfect warrior, and a flawless weapon, overcoming all odds to take the title of the elite, the best of the best, the one who would constantly lead the group and never be surpassed.

Reivyn.

The two figures separated suddenly, sprinting opposite directions before turning and charging one another at incredible speed. As the sith pureblood reached Reivyn, he slashed downwards at her exposed side, victory in his eyes, but Reivyn dodged below, blocking above her with her sabre and grabbing the hilt of the pureblood's sabre. Swiveling, she elbowed him in the face, putting distance between them and taking his sabre from him; she continued her rotation and slashed with the two lightsabers at his exposed head and body, creating a complete circle of movement. There was an enormous clash, the sound of a breaking practice sabre, and dust everywhere. The spectators looked eagerly as the air became still, the noise having ceased, for any signs of a victor. As the dust settled, one figure emerged, dragging the other behind. The dust suddenly parted, as though by a sudden wind, and Reivyn approached the group, the pureblood - unconscious and bleeding – in tow.

"I win," she said simply, and the other acolytes groaned and whooped collectively, depending on the bets they had made. There was no more lead group – after everything the acolytes had been through together, saving each other's skins more than once there had been no more pretense of keeping up false appearances. Each acolyte had made it this far on their own power and respected others for doing the same.

"The best, Lord Sanguine, as I said," Cap said to a man of medium height who watched wordlessly, his black robes covering his sickly white skin from the effects of the harsh Korriban sun.

"Indeed…" the sith lord replied thoughtfully, looking at each surviving acolytes for a moment or two before saying more, nodding his pleasure. "You may proceed to the next level of training, Captain," he said, turning back to where a glossy black and silver speeder waited. "I shall return in a year for the survivors."

With that, the sith departed, leaving the small group surrounding Cap all alone outside the compound. "So, what now Cap?" one of the survivors from the shuttle group said, nudging his buddy eagerly. The two had really hit it off over the past few years and would probably be friends for life…if they survived their trials.

"Now…" Cap said, starting back to the compound, "I teach you how to kill each other."

So how was it? Please let me know - I would love for this to be an actually good story, and the more reviews I get to let me know what I'm doing right (or wrong) the better it will probably be~!

Anyways, hopefully I'll have a new chapter out sooner this time! Chapter 3 "will be out soon"!