Choices, part 3: Jeana’s Way

Posted: July 28, 2013 by writingsprint in Choices, Fantasy, Science fiction
Tags: , , ,

gauntletWhen Jeana walked into the training hall, her mother shouted, “Force choke, now!”

Jeana imagined her mother was Miss Graha. Her right hand shot out, fully extended, and her soul reached beyond her fingers and flew all the way to her mother’s throat. Her mother wore a gauntlet that absorbed Force attacks. A gem in the gauntlet flared like a star. Her mother grinned. “Well… someone had another bad day.”

Jeana growled. Red points of fire glowed deep in her eyes. It felt like a wave of flame shooting out through her arm. Her mother rocked from the attack. She set her back foot. “That’s it, honey. Use it!”

Jeana grit her teeth. She hated being played with like this. She hated losing her place in the recital even more. “Use this,” Jeana growled. She shook. She pushed all her love of dance into the attack. If she had been dancing now, she would have worn blades on her shoes.

The gem flared brighter. It sparked. Her mother winced. “You have power, Jeana.” she said. She coughed. The attack was getting through. “Fear. Anger. These are weapons.”

“I used them already. I use them every day!”

“Not on Miss Graha, you don’t.”

“I’m not going to choke Miss Graha.”

Her mother cocked her head to the side. “Why not?” she asked. Jeana gasped. The attack faltered. “Focus, Jeana! Why not?”

“She’s my teacher.”

“You’re Sith.”

The attack grew stronger. “She’ll never let me dance again.”

“There are a dozen teachers who would put you ahead of their own daughters.”

Her mother’s arm shook. More sparks. “I don’t want them to do it out of fear.”

“Fear is a weapon.”

“My dancing is a weapon!” Jeana snarled.

The relic broke. Her mother threw up her own hand, and a chaotic ball of black Force energy fought in the middle of them. “You deserve your spot.”


“Then take it, Jeana!”

Jeana breathed. Her cooling breath spread over her anger. Now she had passion and focus. Jeana imagined a star going nova in between them; the Force ball exploded. Jeana was ready, but her mother staggered from the release.

Jeana leaped over to her. She caught her before she hit the ground. “Are you all right?” she asked.

Her mother brushed her hair. “Of course I am.” She didn’t look all right. She looked at the glorious relic on her arm. A few crystals were shattered. It smelled like burned tin. “Priceless. Worthless. Oh well.”

“Don’t push me so far, and I won’t go breaking your pretty things,” Jeana said with a grin.

“Oh, the hell with that. This was fun. I can always find a new trinket.”

“I hate it when we spar together.”

“You have to get over it, hon. One day you might be all that stands between a friend and the throne, or a Darth might send someone that you love to fight you, to wound you deeper than they ever could. It’s the Sith way.”

Jeana looked straight into her mother’s eyes. “I’ll choose my own way.”

Her mother smiled.

The gauntlet shown above is a Witchblade prop created by Lord Angelus, which I found at The photo is used without permission.

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