A vast room, resembling a banquet hall in size, is bathed in a soft, subdued glow emanating from an enormous window that engulfs one entire wall. A young woman, only a teen, sitting in the middle of the cool, hard floor, fixates her gaze on the infinite expanse of deep space visible through the window. The room, devoid of any furnishings, carpets, or shelves, resonates with a chilling stillness, amplifying the sense of emptiness and deafening silence.
The woman has very pale, almost totally white skin. Her deep, jet black hair is straight and neat. It reaches slightly above her shoulders in a neat bob. Her features are slim and delicate, with high cheekbones and almond-shaped, completely black eyes framed by her hair. Her hands are idly spinning a glowing green circle-like object floating in the air, inches above her hands. She's wearing a simple, white, tunic-style cotton shirt and simple white linen trousers.
Suddenly, her eyes flash wide open, and she looks alarmed. She jumps up and the glowing green circle disappears completely, leaving the room even darker without its eerie green glow. She turns toward the opposite wall, and stands, twitching nervously, and turning her gaze downwards.
A section of the wall opens, and a tall man steps in. He's dressed in a stylish dark uniform. He has similar pale white skin, and his short, neatly done hair is similarly jet black, as are his eyes. His hands are behind his back, and as he halts his progress only inches into the room, he clears his throat.
"Are we more cooperative today, Miss P'mauwa?" he asks in a voice that sounds slimier than a planet full of snails. His voice has an edge that betrays his apparent anger.
The young woman -- P'mauwa -- tries to stand as still as she can, not meeting the man's gaze nor giving him an answer.
"You know you're only making this harder for yourself," the man says, dropping the slimy voice and revealing his snarky, harsh voice that's cold enough to freeze stars.
"I am not capable of what you ask of me," P'mauwa whispers in a shaky voice. She twiddles with her fingers and her feet shuffle nervously. She keeps her gaze down.
"Of course you are!" the man spats out angrily, squeezing his feet into tight fists. "I know you're a Tw'y'arn G-erhan! There's no use lying about it! We will eventually get what we want, so you could just make it easier for yourself and do what we ask!"
"I can't," she mutters quietly. "I cannot do what you ask of me."
The man growls at her, then purses his lips together and gathers himself, fixing his stylish jacket. "Fine. Have it your way," he says dismissively. "We waited for thousands of years. We can wait a few weeks more." He walks out of the door and slams it shut behind him.
The woman's shoulders droop down as her tense body relaxes. A soft sniffle escapes her mouth, and she sits back down on the cold, hard floor. She closes her eyes tight and inhales deeply. Exhaling slowly, her features soften and her body relaxes. She opens her eyes and resumes looking into the deep space.
As soon as she relaxes and her eyes turn toward the space, her fingers begin their intricate dance in front of her, and the glowing green circle slowly appears out of thin air and starts to spin inches above her fingers. She looks like she isn't even aware of it, and her hands just automatically do it when she's relaxed.
She presses her eyes tightly shut, and sighs deeply. Her thin body shivers momentarily, as she shakes her head. She bites her lower lip and tries to fight the inevitable tears. She looks down at the spinning circle, and her lips turn downwards into a frown.
"I cannot give you to them," she mutters softly. "I cannot. They'll destroy the galaxy. They'll kill everyone. They cannot be allowed to have you."
P'mauwa's heart ached with the weight of her destiny. She knew the power that lived within her, and the danger it posed in the wrong hands. The spinning disc floated higher, and when it reached her eye-level, it stopped. She had sworn to herself that she would never let her power be used by anyone else, ensuring that it never fell into the clutches of those who sought to use it for destruction.
But the man, with his snarky demeanor and relentless pursuit, was determined to seize the circle. He represented an organization that had been hunting for one of her kind for centuries, trying to exploit their abilities for their own gain. P'mauwa was a Tw'y'arn G-erhan, a rare being with the ability to manipulate cosmic energies. Only one of her kind would be born in thousands of years. If the man could have her power, the galaxy would be at his mercy.
She had seen the destruction they were capable of. The devastation caused by their reckless pursuit of war and conquest haunted her. P'mauwa couldn't bear the thought of unleashing that chaos upon the galaxy. She couldn't let them have the circle.
As she gazed into the vastness of space, her mind raced with possibilities. She knew she had to find a way to prevent them from using her, to keep her power out of the wrong hands. But the weight of the task was overwhelming and the tears she had been fighting finally won their battle, and her cheeks were damp with their victory.
She let her hands fall to her sides, making the glowing circle disappear. Getting to her feet, she walked over to the window, leaning against it with her hands and head.
She never asked for this power. She never asked for the responsibility she had. She never asked to be captured by the Di'gatha military. To be captured and jailed by the cruelest beings she knew that existed. Beings that had destroyed countless of worlds and were now aiming their ambitions towards the Empire. Beings that were so ruthless, the word "innocent" wasn't in their native language. The Di'gatha. Her own kind.
