"In this world, is the destiny of mankind controlled by some transcendental entity or law? Is it like the hand of God hovering above? At least it is true that man has no control, even over his own will."-Kentaro Miura

The change was jarring, one moment the power had threatened to overwhelm him. Against all sense it had almost manifested physically and had it not been for his iron control it may have done so at that. Now however it was gone, as though it had only existed in a dream. The memory of his near omnipotence rapidly fading as Katarn's ragged breathing echoed in the expansive crypt.

"What have you done?" Jerec hissed lowly as the grip on his lightsaber tightened imperceptibly.

Katarn did not deign to answer, instead squaring his shoulders and assuming a rigid defensive stance as rivulets of sweat ran down his beard. The inquisitor prided himself on presenting a façade of omnipotence, a necessary aptitude with subordinates who would just as soon flay him alive as follow his orders. But usually, his façade was backed by tangible power.

Not anymore. No matter how hard he tried the dark side remained elusive. Whatever the up-jumped nerf-herder had done, had not only severed the former archeologist's connection with the thought bomb, but made drawing on the dark side as difficult as imbibing molasses through a straw.

It was only his mastery of techniques honed through years of study under Jocasta Nu that allowed him to maintain his composure, using the Force to bolster his concentration in a feedback loop that allowed him to focus the sum of all he could bring to bear on the task at hand.

The Force eagerly leapt to his call racing down his limbs as they coiled with the strength of a man decades younger and a far bulkier frame. His species might have lacked eyes to see color, but in exchange for this 'blindness' they saw the world as it truly was, and his mastery of the jedi mind arts made this instinctual awareness explode.

He could see the individual microfractures making up the room's elaborate brickwork, could have counted the individual follicles that made up his opponents' hair and could not only hear birds chirping hundreds of feet away but could feel their exact locations in relation to himself. Even through this haze of pure focus, the irony that it was a Jedi technique that would see him win the day was not lost on him.

Thus, with his senses sharpened to this degree it was no small amount of pain that lanced through him as Katarn dodged his strike and separated his torso from his legs.

Jerec didn't scream as he awoke, but only barely. He could still feel a phantom pain where the yellow lightsaber had bit into his upper body and the white knuckled grip, he must have had on the sheets was beginning to hurt.

He let out a shuddering gasp, the specifics of the nightmare beginning to vanish as he wiped away the sweat from his brow. The specifics vanished but the general uneasy feeling and spark of fear did not abate, even as his awareness roved over the dormitories his fellow younglings were crowded in. With some reluctance he left the room and began to pace, his fear at being caught breaking curfew paling in comparison to his desire to forget the extremely odd nightmare. Try as he might however, no matter how long he walked through the Temple's empty darkened corridors the face would not leave his thoughts and soon enough he figured out why as he paused in a small alcove.

It was his face. Older perhaps, far more worn and with a thin leather strip that obscured his eye sockets instead of his habitual large cloth blindfold, but him, nonetheless. He let out a large gasping breath and sat down to ponder the meaning of the vision, for what else could it have been.

He'd never experienced one himself, and he firmly believed that any other youngling who said they had, had been lying. But in preparation for their initiate trials where they would journey to Illum the masters had deigned to mention the existence and importance of visions, even if their advice tended to boil down to 'meditate on it but don't worry about it'.

With lack of anything better to do he did exactly that, sitting in a lotus position his awareness slipped into the calming eddies of the Force as his fear and worry was slowly surrendered to it. Any kind of clarity, however, did not present itself. It had clearly been him in the vision, and he was wielding a red lightsaber, so perhaps it had been a warning that he was treading down a dark path? And if so, what had he been doing wrong that the Force had seen fit to issue such a warning?

The answer to the second question was not forthcoming, and only managed to continually fill him with anxiety which needed to be surrendered to the Force was again before he could ponder the question, only for the cycle to repeat itself.

"This is going nowhere…" He muttered with a tired sigh before stretching as he froze. Someone had suddenly appeared at the edge of his awareness. Had he been concentrating so hard that someone had actually managed to sneak up on a Miraluka? No, impossible.

Though not strictly necessary he turned to regard the Jedi Master, for what else could he be? He positively radiated power in the Force and though his dress was extremely odd, eschewing the, all but mandatory, robes in exchange for a long dark cloak and some sort of armor, he still held a lightsaber at his hip and seemed completely unbothered at walking the Temple's halls.

Jerec bowed low, "I apologize for breaking curfew master I had a troubling dream and decided I could do with some solitude and meditation before returning to bed."

The Master's aristocratic features contorted in confusion for a moment as he looked around, then his brow furrowed as he blinked languidly. "You can…sense me?"

Jerec was taken aback, though could only answer in the affirmative leaving his elder even more befuddled. Before a look of absolute shock crossed his features and Jerec felt an invisible vice grip his throat.

"What have you done?!" He snarled in an angry mockery of what Jerec had said in his vision, though this was no vision.

His eyes bored into Jerec's eye sockets and for the first time the young Miraluka saw something he'd never thought to experience, color. The man's eyes were what he could only assume was yellow or perhaps orange. The man's grip began to slacken. Jerec gasped and purpled as hot tears ran down his face. It was only the desperation of a drowning man grasping at straws that allowed him to notice that the man was vanishing like smoke in the wind reflected by the panicked look on his face.

Before Jerec could gasp in relief as the pressure on that had been hoisting him up by the neck abruptly ceased a single gloved finger harshly impacted his skull before dissipating entirely.

What followed was only more pain, confusion, and panic. Two minds were not meant to share the same body and instinctively, they began to fight, grappling for control of the limited space. The native mind's trained discipline contested with the greater volume and experience of the intruder's superego. Steadily, though, more and more thoughts and memories began to leak out to the other, and almost simultaneously both drew back in disbelief. Memories of strict Temple life were contrasted by visions of quiet suburbia. Two childhoods played out before them, one laden with rigorous discipline and at times overwhelming anxiety, the other idyllic though tinged bittersweet by time. Blaster bolts being deflected by a training saber turned into the clashing of two rapiers as opponents lunged at each other to score a glancing blow. The quiet marketplace of a small European town faded into chaotic the Coruscant skyline.

Jerec distantly realized that he had not known the word superego before, and that the word was decidedly not in Galactic Basic. Context flowed through him like water does through a river, languages, names, places, times. Latin, Sigmund Freud, Austria, 19th Century.

Every time he pondered on a topic for even a fraction of a second the veritable deluge of knowledge made him feel like his brain was hemorrhaging and every time a new memory poured in, the insidious vestiges of a foreign personality clung to them for its life, much like a shipwreck survivor clings to driftwood. Gradually the two personalities melded into one as the memories finally hit upon a word, or rather two words and all the context therein.

Star Wars