Acceptance is powerful. When you accept something, it's liberating, in a way. Perhaps there may be much you don't understand, much you don't know or much you cannot do, but you move on. Acceptance allows you to move on. But it may also change the path in front of you. Somethings, you shouldn't accept. Sometimes, you do need to make a change. The difficulty comes from knowing what to accept, or at least tolerate, and what not to.
Acceptance is not always a good thing. But it is powerful.
Prosperity Mountains, Northern Equestria
The air was cold on the mountain peak. Moonlight and starlight cast an eerie silver glow from the rockface to the cliffs and all the way to the valley below. Far in the distance, across the valleys, Arteem could see the Harmony Mountains where Canterlot was located. It was just on the other side of the mountains, eclipsed by it, but he knew it was there. He just couldn't see it, and no one from there could see him.
In the shadow of something else, yet watching it. So far away, you could place a hand above it and look like you're puppeteering it. It was natural he'd find her here.
"Hello, Kreia," Arteem said. "What is they say? We've got to stop meeting like this? Something like that." He approached her, the shadowy figure of the Director. She was turned away from him, gazing out at Canterlot. "I thought you were satisfied. After Malachor."
"Leave me be, brutish one. Your insecurities aren't welcome here."
"I-insecurities?" the dark exile almost felt his face go flush, but he laughed it off. "Alright, I'm in a good mood, I'll bite. What "insecurities" do I happen to have?"
The Director turned. She raised up a hand, her long, spindly fingers outstretched, and hovering above them was a sphere. A gray sphere, not even as big as a basketball. The tiny ball seemed almost innocuous as it rotated slowly. The Director grinned as realization dawned in Arteem's expression.
"Where... where did you get that?"
"Oh, this thing? Found it lying on the ground. Why? Does it matter something to you?"
"Give it to me," he said. His tone was angry, but wavering. "Now."
She flicked her finger at him. "Fine." The ball flew at him, and rushed to catch it. If he'd thought a bit more, maybe he would've remembered to use the Force. But the sheer terror of the sphere, of what the Mass Shadow Generator could do, had already done, caused a momentary lapse in judgment. It was more common than the powerful would care to admit, but it was something the Director knew all too well.
The bigger they are, the harder they fall. The powerful could be quite big, but that power made it difficult to balance and even maintain one's self in many cases. Their power limited the things they could do, requiring more restraint and making them easier to unsettle. Celestia knew this very well, and Twilight was beginning to learn it. It also made them predictable. Carry a big hammer, people are going to learn when and what way you're going to swing it.
"NO!" The ball slipped right through his fingers and hit the ground. It broke apart, crumbling into two pieces of stone. "No... what?" Arteem looked around. "Where's the real thing?! Where?!"
Cleo chuckled. "As I said, insecurities."
Arteem drew and ignited his lightsaber. "Where is the Mass Shadow Generator?! Tell me where my weapon is now, or I will-" Suddenly, he felt his throat grow tight. "Geh... keh..." An invisible hand gripped his windpipe. He reached to grab at his neck, but the force around it wasn't one that could be seen. It wasn't even the Force, but some other force entirely. Something darker, something colder. And it raised him off his feet into the air.
"Do you think I feel threatened by you? You, another wanderer who found this place, thought they could exploit it, control it, somehow that it's magic could be made to serve you. This place has lived and died too many times, too many ways to suffer from the likes of you. You sought to rob this cradle and grave, but you'll only wind up buried in it."
Arteem shot out his hand at the Director. Lightning bolts arced from his fingers, cutting through the distance between them. They impacted the Director's own withered hands and even ripped through her cloak. A flash illuminated her ruined face and knocked back her hood, exposing her to the night air.
Quickly, she released Arteem and pulled her hood back up.
"Impressive."
Arteem rose, lightsaber still ignited. "Die again, witch."
Cleo shot out her own hand, palm-outward. A burst of invisible energy blasted Arteem in the chest, a distorted pocket of reality that knocked him off his feet and carried him back to the cliff wall. Another burst cracked right in front of him, slamming him into the wall enough that his own world began spinning.
"I never wanted you to come here. You, who were able to defy your own destiny, choose for yourself what you wanted, you earned a modicum of my respect," Cleo said. "I used you. I lied to you. I manipulated you and your broken friends, and the galaxy, YOUR galaxy became a better place for it. I was happy to finally let Malachor die, and I was hoping you'd be strong enough to do the same. But you..." she looked at him, almost sad. "You're not her, are you? You made your choice a long time ago."
Arteem got up again, slowly. "I know you... I... I know your games, old woman. You came here... like you came to me. You want to manipulate them, that... that angry guy. He's your new version of me, isn't he?"
The Director snarled. She smacked the air, and it smacked Arteem hard in the face.
"Don't you dare speak his name. You, of all people have no right to lecture me, apprentice. You got over your past, but you didn't learn from it. You never got anything more from it."
"What was I supposed to get?"
The Director shook her head. "Something worth fighting for. Go home, exile. Go back to your dark little rock, back to your shadow governments and your schemes. I'm done with your universe. There's plenty others, plenty other versions of you that made far better decisions. They've already found this place, appreciated it for what innocence it has and moved on."
Arteem smirked. "This place is special to you... I understand. Perhaps there's something I can offer in exchange for the generator."
She turned away from him again. "You have nothing to offer but anger, hatred and fear. There's already enough of that here."
"No, no. There's something else I can offer." He held up a small holoprojector.
"We have enough machines as well."
He turned it on. And a very peculiar image appeared in the display, the image of something very, very old. And very dangerous.
"Hmmm. Perhaps there is something we can do for each other," the Director said.
And Arteem smiled right back. "Perhaps. So, where is my generator?"
She was quiet for a moment. Then she turned away again to gaze at the horizon. "I will tell you where to go. When the time is right, the one who has the information you seek will come to you. It's safe, I can tell you that much. Those who have it do not understand it, though they do understand its dangers."
The dark exile nodded. "Alright. Partners. Again. For now." He turned his back to her and walked away to begin his preparations. Before he left, he looked back over his shoulder one last time. "You're not really Kreia, are you?"
The Director didn't turn around. But Arteem had to think she was smiling. "I'm close enough," she said.