Star Wars: Huntress - Prologue

== PROLOGUE == 

"Do you know why you are here?"

The child flinched, but did not answer.  The burning split on her lip served as a reminder of the last time she misspoke.  She kept still, her stiff knees aching as she remained kneeling on the floor.  The small room was poorly lit, but she daren't look up at the figure circling her, as a beast would its dying prey.

"You are here," her Master cooed, "Because I will it.  You are here because I wish you to learn.  You are here, girl..."

The voice whispered into her ear as her master leaned in close, "Because it pleases me."

The heat of his breath sent shivers down her spine.  Every muscle tightened under the weight of his imposing presence.  She fought the anxiety boiling in her chest.  Her first few months here would have seen her break up in fearful sobs, but her tears have long since dried up.  If he could sense her discomfort, he did not say.  Eventually, she sensed him withdraw.

"What is your name?" he calmly asked.

She hesitated.  These interrogations came daily.  She hadn't yet known why she was subject to them, despite every other torture she's gone through.  He never demanded of her to answer his questions; usually he did that for her.  All save this one, and in every instance she got the answer wrong.

"You will answer," her Master stated matter-of-factly.  She had learned to fear that tone.

"My name...," she croaked, coughing on the dryness in her throat.  She had not spoken since this morning.  Her lip still throbbed from his response.  

She knew what was coming, just not in what form.  Another backhand?  A shakedown?  Even as she spoke, she braced, "My name is Rin Im--"

A swift kick into her chest cut off whatever lingered on her tongue.  She could feel the crack of ribs as she flew backwards.  Whatever look of surprise she had was replaced with agony as her head slammed on the floor behind her.  White searing pain coursed through her.  For a terrifying few moments, she couldn't breathe.

This was punishment.  The answer was wrong.  The answer was always wrong.

Rin was her name.  It was the name her father had given her.  It was the name her friends had called out as they ran and played with one another.  It was the name her mother sang of every night before bed.  

But that was before Master had taken her.

It was hard to think, nausea swimming sickeningly as she struggled for breath.  Through the pain, she couldn't remember the faces of her parents or friends.  She couldn't hear their voices.  She couldn't remember the song of her mother.

In dulled surprise, tears began to flow through choked and agonized sobs.  He never hurt her this badly before, but it was more than her body that was broken now.  She wanted to hide, to find a deep dark place and go to sleep and never, ever wake up in this place again.

She cried and kept crying, unable to stop, yet gasping at each heave of her chest.  

"You see?" Master asked.  He was standing over her, yellow eyes looking down with exhaustion.  Disappointment.  "Every time I ask you, you seem to always get it wrong.  Why is this?  Have I taught you nothing in your time here?  Has my tutelage proved for naught?"

His dark robes rustled as his hand reached into his sleeve.  "Once more I will ask you.  It will be the last time."

A loud hiss emitted from his hand.  Red shot out from the handle he held, ending at a point on her throat.  A new wave of fear overcame any sense of pain she felt, instantly stilling her heaves.  

She had seen Master use this before.  She didn't know what it was called, and never dared to ask him.  People died when he used it.  

"What is your name," he whispered.  The blade did not move from her throat.

Small tremors ran through her body as she frantically tried to find the right answer.  Rin!  Rin is her name!  But that is wrong.  Her name isn't Rin?  It can't be!  Why would it hurt her if that was her name?  Then what is it?  What?  What is her name?!

"I don't know!" she cried, eyes shut in anguish.  "I don't know, Master!  I-I don't have one!  I don't... know..."

Her sobs leaked out again, quieter this time, weak with pain and exhaustion.  For a few agonizing moments, she prepared for more pain, or worse.  She had given up, feeling defeated.  

Nothing happened.

Slowly, she cracked an eye.  Through her tears, she could see Master was still staring down at her, blade still at her throat.  The intensity in his eyes, however, had cooled, and he seemed now to be merely assessing her.

With finality, the red blade disappeared back into his hands, and with deft movement, the hilt was hidden back into the sleeve of his robes.

"Finally," he cooed, "It took longer... much, much longer than I had hoped, but you finally have the answer."

Before she could react, she was deftly lifted with surprising gentleness.  She gasped sharply in pain as her body sank into Master's arms.  She couldn't feel any movement beneath her as he turned and made toward the room's exit, as though he were taking great care with his steps.

"The truth, child," he said softly as he looked ahead, "Is that you have no name.  Not anymore.  I took that from you the day I claimed you.  That name is dead.  You will bury it, or I will bury you."
  
As she slipped into blackness from exhaustion, pain, and mental anguish, his words still struck deep into her mind.

"Now begins your training."