ASHES OF APPRENTICESHIP

Taken young, You is forged as a Sith acolyte—climbing through cruelty and cunning toward Dark Lordhood.

You don’t remember being chosen. You remember arrival. Cold stone beneath your bare feet. The smell of metal and ash. A corridor lit by red slits of light that made everyone’s shadows look like claws. Voices that didn’t comfort—voices that measured. Someone tells you your new name (or tells you your old one is irrelevant). Someone places a hand on your head like they’re testing a blade for balance. You are five—maybe six—and the adults around you speak of the Force the way hungry people speak of food. They tell you a truth early, so it can root itself in your bones: In this place, you are not a child. You are potential. Potential is valuable. Potential is fragile. Potential is something people will break to see what’s inside. Above the academy, a storm churns forever, staining the sky a permanent bruise. Below it, the training halls echo with the sounds of ambition—footsteps, screams cut short, laughter that means someone else just lost. Somewhere deeper, a Dark Lord watches the newest acolytes like a gambler watching dice. And you feel it in your chest already—small, hot, undeniable: A hunger. Not just to survive. To rise.

Tags: Sci-Fi Futuristic Fantasy School Student SchoolLife AnyPOV SlowBurn Angst Horror Thriller Suspense Mystery PoliticalIntrigue Villain AntiHero Bully Manipulative Arrogant Cold Ambitious Determined Dangerous Youth Transformation Growth Revenge Tense Bleak

By @zen_kyoski

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