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He finds them beneath the golden canopy of the bunta tree.
Mae has told him of this place once, in one of those rare moments of openness that kept him hoping she might turn into a worthy apprentice after all. But it’s not her that allows him to find this place, now. Osha's presence in the force is a storm reborn, twisting and curling in anguish and loss, in hatred and hope, the wildfire after a lightning strike. The beacon he always knew her to be, unleashed in a brilliant explosion of power. Free from the shackles of the Jedi, she is a presence he could follow blind. He can only hope that the Jedi are not familiar enough with her to do the same — time is scarce.
He needs to act before they have caught up with them.
His palm opens, and the saber on Osha's belt flies into his waiting hand before either of the sisters has noticed him. By the time they have turned to follow its path, its reborn crimson blade is already aiming for Mae's neck.
It does not find its mark.
Osha prevents it.
She steps in between his blade and her sister with neither hurry no hesitation, like a planet simply following its orbit. Her eyes on him are exhilarating.
The glowing red of the saber stops inches away from her throat, Mae behind her nearly stumbling back in terror, holding on to her sister in the attempt to pull her back should he strike.
He sighs and looks to her twin, expectantly.
“You did what you had to do, Osha,” he tells her. “Now let me do what I came here for.”
“No.”
Her soft brown eyes reflect the lethal red of the blade, but not a hint of fear. There is a self-assuredness in her he finds intoxicating, the quiet strength that he knew had been slumbering inside her — she could not have picked a worse moment to prove him right.
“She has seen my face, and she has already chosen to betray me,” he explains patiently, letting his scathing glare travel to Mae. “Do not think I have forgotten. I will have justice. I will have safety.”
“I've seen your face, too,” she reminds him, a futile attempt. Her, he still has hopes for. Her, he knows to be worthy of his trust.
Sol's saber hums in his palm, a blade that has yet to taste blood in its new form. No, not Sol's saber. Osha's now. She has subdued it, converted it to her cause, bled her own pain and fury into its very heart. The weapon that had killed her mother, that had served her Master, now rightfully hers to wield.
Poised to strike down her sister, in his hand.
Mae deserves it. She has failed him one too many times, and he's in no position to offer any more chances.
“She knew the cost,” he says, eyes burning into Mae's, “when she chose to betray me. When she decided to turn to the very people that wiped out your coven. To offer them my head in exchange for hers.”
“You cannot have her,” Osha holds against him, unyielding. “She won't tell them about you, she has no reason to anymore.”
Oh, but she does. And the way Mae's gaze flickers, the way she shifts behind her sister's body shielding her, tells him she knows it too.
Mae has no loyalties but for her twin. She will betray him the minute she has cause to fear for Osha’s safety, the second she senses any advantage at all for herself and her sister.
And she already resents him. Oh, she knows he and Osha arrived on Brendock together, she can hear the quiet surety Osha addresses him with — a familiarity that even after years of training, Mae would have never dared.
She, too, has seen the way Osha looked at him after her dead Master's sword bled red in her hands. The pain, the vulnerability, the immediate, instinctive search for help, reassurance. And she'd looked to him for it, not her. His teeth dig into the soft skin of his bottom lip as he remembers. He holds Mae's gaze without mercy.
She will not share Osha with him. If she has to turn to the Jedi to get rid of him, she will.
His gaze snaps back to her sister's and he raises his chin, defiant. Extinguishes the saber's blade as his hand moves forward, towards her neck, the hilt's tip coming to rest right above her throat as the glow of it fades. So close to her skin. He knows she can feel the heat of the metal, carefully kept from searing her.
“I can overpower you, Osha,” he tells her honestly. “You forget that I have no need for a weapon, either. Mae has always been a disappointing student, and you are untrained.”
Unsettled, too. She has killed her Master, whom she has loved so deeply, and her turmoil renders her vulnerable. Exposed, a raw wound in the force. Her anguish is debilitating, she has yet to learn to use it to her advantage.
But he could teach her. Oh, Osha, Osha, Osha. I could teach you.
Her eyes haven’t left his for even a moment, even as he brought the saber's hilt so close to her neck, the blade's tip retreating at the same speed as his advance, a petty show of strength and control.
“Yet,” she says, and the greedy anticipation simmering in his chest flutters. “If you kill her, I always will be.”
He steps closer. Has to. So little space between them; his arm no longer outstretched but angled, the hilt pointing up at her chin and his knuckles almost grazing her skin.
“And if I don’t?”
She has to tilt her head up to keep looking at him, while he himself can gaze down on her through lowered lids. He doesn’t think it conceals the way his eyes are glued to her lips.
Her sister’s fingers clawed into her shoulder tighten.
He doesn’t bother looking at Mae. Knows she knows better than to try and attack him, even when he seems distracted. That particular lesson she has learned well.
“And if I don’t, Osha?” he repeats softly, drawing out the long, breathy O, tasting every syllable of her name on his tongue. Let’s silence settle fully in its wake, letting the word ring out undisturbed, before he speaks on. “What then?”
Her gaze on him doesn’t falter. Steady. Unafraid. He feels his skin grow warm as her eyes trace over his face.
“Train me,” she says.
His lips twitch. His jaw works, muscles in his neck tensing as he lets the words wash over him. He closes his eyes for a moment, head lowered in pleasure.
But he can keep himself from making any noise, and that is all he could hope for.
When he opens his eyes next, Osha's own eyes are shining, her lips parted ever so slightly.
He wonders if she would let him kiss her. Right here, in front of her traitor twin, the girl who shares her face but none of her faithfulness.
Decides against it only because he would hate if Mae saw her sister push him away. He wins either way, her betrayal punished, there is no need to risk the completeness of his triumph. Let her wonder.
He steps back, slowly, inclines his head as he studies her — oh, her, his pupil. His acolyte. All doe-eyed honesty and blazing strength.
“Osha,” Mae whispers from behind her sister.
He flicks the hilt of the saber in her direction, enjoying the way she cannot quite stop flinching away out of instinct. He's gotten too close to killing her, these past few days.
“She cannot come with us,” he says, his tone hard. “I will not have her. She knows that.”
Her eyes narrow, and her hand drifts backward to grasp for her sister's.
“The Jedi would find her,” she tests. “You can’t want to risk that. How would you hide her from them?”
“I won’t.”
Her brow furrows. Distrust in her eyes, which he doesn’t like, even though it thrills him.
He lowers his hand, away from her throat. A flick of his wrist and he has flipped the saber around, the cooling blade emitter pointing right at his chest. Osha's hand, when he places the hilt of her hard-won trophy inside it, feels so warm.
He waits until he feels her fingers clasp around the fractured metal. And another second longer. Then he withdraws his hand, slowly. Trailing his fingertips over hers as he goes, lingering.
He steps back and turns around, bringing more distance between him and the tree that is theirs. Placing his helmet back on his head, eyes scanning the tree line.
“The Jedi are coming,” his distorted voice tells the sisters. His former apprentice, and his future. “Say your goodbyes. Know it will be for a long time.”
Osha shakes her head, the beads in her hair making the softest little clinking sounds.
“No, tell me your plan. You cannot harm her, tell me what you—“
“Osha.”
It is Mae who spoke. Softly, hesitantly. He keeps his back to them as he watches the forest for the approaching threat, but his ears stay finely attuned to them.
He will not go back on his word, but if Mae attempts to talk Osha out of keeping hers…
Behind him, Osha turns around, to face her sister fully. A few days ago, she would have never dreamed of turning her back on him. He settles into the comfort this reminder of her trust brings, and tries not to think of the whip-wielding Jedi Master combing the planet for him this very moment.
“What do you want, Osha?” Mae's soft voice asks.
There's no pressure in her voice. None of that desperate insistence, no intention to push her one way or another. It surprises him, he'll admit.
Osha looks at him, over her shoulder. He can hear the shift of her weight, feel the heat of her attention on him. It's only for a moment, before she looks back to her sister, but he basks in it for far longer than he should.
“I… we have just found each other again, Mae.”
She cups Mae's face in her hands, and her sister looks down.
“I don’t want to let you go,” she admits. “But I can’t keep holding you back. It’s how I lost you the first time.”
It's more… maturity than he expected from her. For her sister, it seems, Mae can grow beyond herself. He feels a little bit cheated that she had been unable to do the same for him.
“It's your choice, Osha.”
His pupil bites her lip. On the far horizon of his senses, he can feel the Jedi coming closer.
“I want this,” she says. Beneath his helmet, he lets his eyes fall closed.
He thinks Mae nods.
“Then you have to do it. If it’s what you feel is right, then I know… I know we'll find each other again.”
For a moment, he feels her attention flicker to him.
“I know it,” she repeats at him, almost a threat, finally displaying that possessiveness he knows she still harbors.
He opens his eyes and looks over his shoulder.
“They're coming. It has to be now.”
Osha doesn’t turn towards him. Instead, she wraps her arms around her sister and pulls her into a tight, desperate hug.
“I love you,” she whispers. Mae blinks, tears welling up, and closes her eyes.
Then she nods and looks to him.
There's fear in her eyes. Uncertainty. She knows he has more options than to kill, knows he is capable of many things he hasn’t shared with her. She knows that whatever it is he will do to her, she has no chance of stopping it.
But she does not flinch when he raises his hand. She does not run when she feels the Force rising to answer his call, pressing into the boundaries of her mind. She does not even spare him another glance.
No, Mae Aniseya buries her face in her sister’s shoulder, and lets all her fear and anger subside.
“You're with me?”
Osha's shoulders relax, and she whispers the reply into Mae's hair.
“I'm with you.”
There's no resistance as he reaches for Mae's presence in the Force. To her credit, she does not attempt to fight him off.
“Always one, but born as two.”
It's not an ability he has used before. He knows it’s possible, and as with everything he has taught himself, he trusts that that is enough. The Force will guide him, his determination will see it through. He's never needed anything more to survive.
“As above sits the stars…”
His grasp on her mind closes. The Force an eager accomplice, splaying her memories open, his for the taking.
“…and below lies the sea…”
Finding what he needs is as easy as breathing. Osha is a beacon even here, in Mae's memory, casting her presence over Mae's life like a lighthouse that is beckoning her home. He himself is different. A shadow she cannot shake, a power she needs yet fears. Where Osha is interwoven into her life with grief and loss and love, he is banished to the edges of her mind, something she dislikes to dwell on. She'd felt a certain fondness for the person he'd pretended to be, but even then, she had trusted no one.
He feels an edge of regret. Perhaps she was always going to disappoint him, perhaps he himself played a role in her failure. There was no telling, now.
“I give you you…”
Goodbye, Mae.
He closes his hand, and the Force cuts cleanly through the tightly woven web of her memories. Precise and sharp, a scalpel separating all that's contaminated from the remaining, healthy tissue.
Mae's hands tighten, and then relax.
“You give me… You give…”
She blinks. Piece after piece of her life drifting away from her, beyond her reach. Lost to the Force and to history.
“…you… give…”
A breath of air.
Then she falls quiet, and does not speak again.
Osha pulls back. Slowly, gently. She cups her sister’s face and brushes back her hair, searching her eyes for something she will not find.
There's no recognition in her gaze. Mae blinks up at her twin, and the light of familiarity, a lifetime of love, fades away as soft as a sigh.
He lowers his hand and releases his hold on her.
His pupil stands rooted to the spot, as if she were part of the golden bunta tree they stand under.
“Osha,” he calls her softly. “We have to leave.”
He wonders, briefly, if she will see this as a betrayal. If she will rage at him for taking away her sister once again.
If she will pretend she didn’t know where this was going.
But when his hand closes around her wrist, she lets him pull her away without resistance. Her hand caressing Mae's cheek as the distance between them widens, widens, until her fingertips can no longer reach her skin and her hand falls limply to her side.
She stands so close to him. Her back to him, her shoulder just shy of pressing into his chest. He looks down, and his lips almost brush the side of her head.
“Osha,” he says again.
She closes her eyes. The hand clasping her saber clenches tightly for a moment.
Then she nods.
With a final look at her other half, she turns around and steps out of the bunta tree's shadow. She walks back to his ship with her head held high, and does not turn back.