Tales of Path - The Teller - Timeline 03001

The polished streets of Coronet were slick from an early rain. Even with inclement weather, throngs of beings swarmed. Barkers, some with inventive sales pitches, most just in a harsh loud voice, overlapped and made all comprehension impossible. Path disliked this city. It’s towering enclosures of reflective synthetic walls held no warmth. Quiet the contrary. This metropolis seemed to leach power for the ever-inching towers directly from the souls and purses of its inhabitants.

“I won’t stay long, I won’t stay long…” Path chanted to herself. She checked the coordinates of the pawnshop and activated the directional beacon. “Thank the Empire it is within walking distance.” Path shouldered her pack, patted the ever-shrinking pouch of Galactic credits and slid sideways between two bickering Bothans.

Path remembered a time when credits were not a concern. She had worked hard within the Empire and spent long days hunting rare skins and meat. Hardship befell her. Increasing demands of her time did not allow hunting excursions. She was fairly well stocked but recently, she realized the crates were empting at a rapid pace.

Path fingered the golden band on her left hand. She thought back to Talus and her determination at acquiring a matched set. One she kept, one she gave along with her heart. The promise was never to be spoken. The ring, just a band now, a constant reminder of her failure. The AaKuan’s were not a difficult target, they just traveled often without their fabled jewels. Persistent was strong in Path. Never give up. Never say never. The words of a dear friend brought a small light to her eyes,

Hope springs eternal

She often thought of those words. Oh how she wished to believe. Hope. The last remaining spirit when all else is gone. Right now Path hoped to get a fair price on her treasured ring. “Such a waste of a wish.”

The beacon grew closer. Her destination appeared to be less than 600 meters away. Path tried to see over the heads of the pressing crowd. A small alley emerged to the east. Even the strict city ordinances keeping Coronet clean could not mask the filth that this city held. She entered the alley. “At least there is breathing room here,” Path spoke to the walls of this artificial crevice. She dodged a few skittering humans, seemingly intoxicated and smelling of soured enhanced wine. She kept her eyes open. Inspecting the street for the vagrants. It would do no good to lose what she braved to sell. Path felt the air stir on her shirt. She narrowed her eyes and let her hand slip to the leather wrapped grip of her sheathed blade. A cackling laughter caused her to spin towards her target. Faster than Path expected, a grizzled hand stayed her blade. The black glass wall she faced melted towards her, reveling an old woman, black cape shrouding all but two yellowed eyes.

Path calmed herself. This creature of the alley was no match for her skills. The woman, unarmed and meters shorter than Path continued to grasp her hand. Path pulled back, the old creature’s grip tightened. “State you business citizen.” Path announced.

“How quickly she forgets.” The voice, high and irritating assaulted Path. Fingernails sharp and blackened burrowed into Path’s wrist. Without looking, Path knew the skin was broken. She felt the warm blood run to her palm. “This is not pain my dear, the wounds I see in you lie much deeper than the surface of your fair silken skin.” The voice stabbed. “I see lies. I see truth. I see a future of solitude.” The old woman persisted, “They care not dearest Path. You place your trust in those that take not from your purse, but from your very spirit.”

Entranced in the voice, Path tried to ignore this soothsayer. She felt no pain from the embedded fingernails. She heard no voice except the old woman’s. An envelope of comforting blackness began to enfold Path. The Sayers truths dissolving her carefully constructed walls. The voice became less a language and more a probing force. Path’s vision swirled and blurred. Hand still caught in the woman’s claw, she folded to the wet street of the alley.

The voice, speaking from within, laughed at Path. “Hope springs eternal.” The voice cracked and continued to torture Path’s mind. “Where is your spring now little one?”

Path did not feel the ring as it was removed from her finger. She heard not the footfalls of medics as they ran to her. Path floated in the blackness, content to stay there.