Chapter Text
Nightsister magick is one that many would consider dark; the power to resurrect the dead, the ability to distort the perception of creatures sentient and otherwise, to warp their connection with the natural world, to unmake and remake the self and others, to move them without moving them. Merrin has never considered it such, has never understood this Jedi obsession with declaring a power to be anything but useful. Mastery of one’s emotion is a skill of great use, of course, but it is not the power itself that is dark or light- only the way in which it is used.
The power to resurrect is one with which she has a long and strenuous relationship. Her sisters were too long-dead for her skill to create anything but an animation of their corpses, but even then she had known the true source of this ability- love. To pour that love into the vessel which contained the beloved thing, and with that love to beckon it return. She could no more resurrect a stranger, recently dead, as she could an ancient being. But Cal- he is both recently dead, the memory of his essence still stamped onto his cooling body, and one for whom she feels a deep well of love. She would not resurrect Cere, for she and the Master had once spoken of this gift, and Cere had forbidden its use, but Cal would allow it. Would invite it even, she was sure, as long as it meant that he could keep fighting.
She glances at Bode’s body, splayed out and still on the cold stone floor some measure of distance away. Both blasters had gone off at once; both, she hopes, as efficient as the other, but she doesn’t have time to worry about the once-Jedi. The rules of proper resurrection are difficult to understand, as indistinct as her body in the eyeblink between being ‘here’ and being ‘there’, and every second elapsing lessens the chances that this will work. Already, she is so far from the source of her power, the voices of her sisters distant whispers in this strange place, the Abyss like a net that entwines them and keeps them far from her. But Merrin carries Dathomir in her blood and flesh, in her very bones, and nothing will separate it from her.
She presses her hand against Cal’s still chest, watching as his red blood pools between her fingers, lapping at the stretch of skin between each. She pours her power into him, whispers her calls into the wind; ancient words of promise, but also words purely her own- descriptions of the fire in his heart and the bright jewel-sparks of his eyes, green like the flames of the magic now licking at his limbs, pouring into the wound over his heart. Stories of his enduring will, of the smile that he keeps for strangers even as his own hope falters. The feel of him in the Force, the compassion which he shows to all crushed underfoot by the Empire, and the hate they share for that destructive power. His dedication to those he has never and will never know, his refusal to be silent for their sakes. The young and startled way in which he stared when she kissed him, delight and confusion warring until his little droid prodded him back to reality. The way he reaches for her when danger rises, though he knows she can fight as well as he. How he never once questioned her power even as so many others stood in fear or disbelief of her unknown magick.
Her green magick pours from her fingers and into him until she fears his body will burst; and then, suddenly, he arches beneath her, inhales sharp and deep. His left hand wraps tightly around her wrist, pushing her palm harder into his chest. Immediately, she wraps an arm around his shoulders, trying to help him up to sitting, but soon she feels herself falter. The energy pouring from her into him sparks and fizzles, and becomes brighter- she no longer feels as if she is pushing it into him, but as if he is drawing it into himself.
It quickly becomes too much. Merrin grits her teeth and tries to slake the flow, but it is impossible to dam. Her palm starts to blister where it is pressed against him; the pain leaps and scurries up her arm until it begins to feel as if he is drawing directly from her heart. She cries out, tearing herself bodily from his grip- for a moment it seems as if she will not be able to move from him, but finally she rips herself back and collapses on the stone, wheezing from pain, her body weak and strangely frail as it slumps into the cold ground.
Cal stands slowly, the movement smooth. His face is devoid of expression, his mouth flat as he stretches up and up. A darkness swells around him, making him seem taller than he has ever been, distorting the space around him. Merrin sucks in a breath, rising up on her elbows and pushing herself backwards. Though the magick that slid from her fingers felt like her own, her long-gone sisters whispering encouragement from their far place, the thing that she sees before her is not of Dathomir.
Its essence in nature is similar; the power of a pulsing life that stretches farther in both directions of time than any legged creature could comprehend. A sentience without shape, nestled in every rock and tree around them, a solidification of the Force in crystal and stone. A life of its own.
She called to Cal with love and desperation, but she sees nothing familiar in his eyes in this moment, gleaming hot and green, wide open and staring down at her without recognition. His mouth opens a sliver; when he exhales a plume of green, wispy smoke dribbles from between his lips.
He tips his head back. His jaw unhinges and falls open. The sound that erupts from him is loud, earth-shaking loud, the ground shuddering beneath her form. It is strange, a howl of wind through empty valleys, angry and triumphant all at once. It whips over her, frozen air that makes all the hairs on her skin stand upright and bumps rise on her flesh. It worms into her chest and leaves it heaving and gasping for the air it seems to suck away from all around them.
Lightning skitters through the purple abyss above them, crackling and surging all through the sky, violet bolts of light so bright that she shades her eyes, a net encompassing the whole planet, and when Cal sees it he laughs; laughs and laughs, rocks trembling and falling with the power of it, great boulders slamming down around them and fracturing against the ground.
Suddenly, Merrin fears for Kata, the child left alone, no doubt hiding herself even now in the dark corridor leading to this place, a corridor which may be splintering and collapsing onto itself at this very moment.
Merrin struggles to her feet. She doubts that, if she were to try to teleport, she would be able to put herself together again, so she runs, she runs as fast as she can and has no time to look back. No time to see what is becoming of Cal.