**Chapter 692: Interlude - Mother**
**Dead silence.**
**Absolute darkness.**
It seemed as if this world stood still. Time itself had no power here. There was nothing on this forsaken rock except for one living creature—if such a wretched existence could still be called life.
Looking up into the void, Asma Nawrath as Tirim fer Sallih — the being now known only as Abeloth — saw that nothing had changed. Her prison remained as strong and impenetrable as the day it was forged. The man-made walls erected millennia ago by beings far greater than mortal hands still held firm. Even the Force itself was fading here, slowly devoured by the countless black holes that surrounded this isolated world like a cage of devouring mouths.
She had been born a very long time ago — so long that the days of her youth had become mere legends, if anyone still remembered them and bothered to recount them at all.
Asma was the daughter of an Emperor, ruler of a vast stellar empire that had once spanned thousands of planets. Thousands of years ago, her people had conquered the stars and expanded across the galaxy with unmatched ambition. The reign of the Emperors, blessed by the gods of their time, had been peaceful and prosperous. Fragments of those golden memories still lingered in her mind — fragments of laughter, of grand palaces gleaming under alien suns, of a beauty so divine that men would fall silent in her presence, speechless with awe.
It had all felt like a dream.
But reality had proven far harsher.
They had been found by the Celestials — a civilization so advanced and enlightened that it was almost impossible to comprehend. And the Celestials were not welcoming. Not at all. Her people had been conquered and enslaved in the blink of an eye, reduced to nothing more than raw material for their experiments. Even she, the Emperor's beloved daughter, had become nothing more than a slave, awaiting her fate in trembling fear.
Perhaps she had been fortunate, unlike the rest of her people. The Celestials entrusted her with the task of overseeing their greatest experiment — their creations known as the Family. Because she could sense and touch the Force, she was chosen to raise, train, and guide the Father, the Daughter, and the Son. These three beings were merely tools in the Celestials' grand design to maintain control over the galaxy.
Thus, she became known only as Mother. She lost her former name, her former life, her former self. She served these strange, powerful children for many long years, secretly dreaming of turning them against their creators — of using them to avenge her fallen people. The Family grew attached to her. They began calling her Mother with genuine affection. But her efforts were in vain. The Family remained loyal to the Celestials' precepts.
Time passed.
The Father never changed. The Son and Daughter remained eternal in their roles. But she… she was growing old. Mortal. Doomed to wither and die.
In a final, desperate attempt to preserve the life she cherished and to enact her long-awaited revenge, Mother used the very tools the Celestials had forbidden. She drank from the Fountain of Power and plunged into the Pool of Knowledge.
The sensation that followed was indescribable.
Power unlike anything she had ever known flooded her veins. Her body transformed. Her mind expanded. She became something far beyond mortal — an immortal being of boundless strength and hunger. She rejoiced. She laughed with mad delight, anticipating the hour of her reckoning.
But the moment she changed, the Family learned of her betrayal.
Father, Son, and Daughter turned on her. At the command of the Celestials, they imprisoned her on this desolate world. In her rage, she fought with everything she had — but it was not enough. The prison held.
And only one phrase, spoken in the ancient tongue of her long-dead empire, thundered across the skies of her prison world, haunting her for eternity:
**"Ash sharim danug orchi, Abeloth."**
**"There is no place for you in this world, Chaos."**
So she remained. Alone. Betrayed. Forgotten.
Trapped in darkness and silence, she could do nothing but watch.
She watched the Celestials' Golden Age unfold with seething hatred, wishing only for their death and oblivion. She watched as they continued their cruel experiments, enslaving and twisting any species they encountered. But one of those experiments eventually backfired spectacularly.
The Rakata — Children of the Dark Side — rose up against their creators. Their power was so immense that the Celestials, in fear, attempted to reshape the galaxy itself, creating massive hyperspace disturbances to isolate and starve their rebellious servants. But the Rakata broke through. A war of annihilation engulfed millions of planets.
The Celestials responded by creating the Esh-Kha — a warrior race designed to serve as their enforcers. The war that followed consumed entire sectors.
In the end, it was Mother herself who helped deliver the final blow. Through subtle manipulation from her prison, she had a hand in crafting the Rakatan curse that ultimately destroyed the Celestials' remaining works. The few surviving Celestials fled the galaxy, sealing it behind a final barrier so that none could follow them.
However, the Father had intervened at the critical moment, throwing her back into her prison before she could fully escape. She could no longer directly influence events… but the fire of resentment still burned within her.
She watched the Rakata rise and fall. She watched empires rise from the ashes. She watched the Jedi and Sith wage their endless wars. She watched it all — omnipotent, yet powerless. Wise, yet unable to apply her wisdom.
But now… there was hope.
Just recently, she had sensed powerful disturbances near her — echoes almost like herself. Somewhere far away, on a semi-desert planet, a gifted being had appeared, one who carried the scent of chaos itself. The disturbances had faded quickly, but Mother knew the being was still alive.
And now, Asma Nawrath as Tirim fer Sallih — no, **Abeloth** — was making every effort to reach out. To connect. To awaken an ally.
A slow, terrible smile spread across her ever-shifting face in the darkness.
*Soon,* she whispered into the void. *Soon, my child… we will both be free.*
The prison trembled faintly, as if the very stars themselves feared what was coming.