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Training Shaping of the Inquisitive Mind (Apprentice Valentyn Training Thread)

Xarxes

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The Apprenticeship of Valentyn to Darth Drakul Xarxes
As Chronicled by Zyldek Nagald, Year 156 ABY


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Location: The Depths of Veeshas Tuwan, Arkania
Above the chilling, unforgiving tundra of Arkania's barren lands rise the spires of the antiquitous Sith library. Far removed from civilization, long relegated to the stuff of ghost stories and superstition by the denizens of that frigid land, it has remained abandoned by the locals, inexplicably. Few beings in the past thousand years have dared tread its empty halls, preferring to make their homes out of sight of the once-great citadel.

And rightly so, though they know not why, for even now their lofty lord absconds to his esoteric chambers to craft horrific creatures and manipulate the minds of those deemed less worthy, all while bearing forth his true face and name: Darth Drakul Xarxes, Nightfather and Jen'ari. Clad in calamitous armor, the hidden lord watches and observes from his lonely tower, or beneath it in the abyss of his own underdelve, monitoring and micromanaging the planet which he loves, ensuring its prosperity while bringing devastation to those unfit to partake in it.

Though now, and oddly to those who know him, he wears no armor, instead draped in a heavy black cloak, the hood pulled up to obscure his face. Black claws in the place of what were once fingernails gently fondle the centerpiece of the dark and otherwise-empty room in which he stands. A sphere of perfectly-polished midnight crystal sits atop a clawed pedestal, its center cloudy with vermillion waves. The Arcturian Eye, a relic crafted by numerous combined minds, acts as the lens through which he views all about his planet, and through which his vision is channeled to stars beyond Olim.


Now, however, as his digits caressed the curves of the delicate artefact, he used it for a different purpose, reaching out towards Korriban, towards the Academy, and into the mind of his Apprentice, the young Kage Valentyn.

To the refugee of Quarzite, the voice ringing in his mind would manifest as a deep, haunting tone, more droning yet smoother than the usual grating voice of his Master. "Come, Apprentice, to my home of Arkania. Come to Veeshas Tuwan, the ancient library. There I will meet you, and you shall be tested once more."

As soon as it had pierced his mind, the voice absconded, and Xarxes relinquished his hold on the Eye some parsecs away. He reached now to another mind local to Arkania, that of his Black Steward, Darth Eschaton, beckoning him to make preparations for the arrival of his ward. There was much to be done.

OOC: This shall be the writing ground for most or all of the story-substantive tasks you have, my Apprentice. We shall begin with your arrival on Korriban. Post form and length may fluctuate depending on the events playing out, so do not be worried about word count or post length terribly much. We will go a week after the start of each task here before I assign another on the Facebook group, even if we have not finished the current one on the forum, to allow for DRL obligations or multitasking being too much of an issue.

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IC: Apprentice Valentyn
Cockpit, I4 Ionizer Starfighter
He did not tarry long. Once the message was received, he had already begun to pack his things. There was not much to take, beyond a change of clothes and his lightsaber. Such simple luggage suited him just fine. At least, it suited him fine for now. After all, he was a mere apprentice with only a starfighter to his name. Carrying an entire wardrobe and cabinet of weapons would be the work of a slave when he traveled aboard capital ships as a Lord. All in due time.

Picsart_22-01-28_00-46-43-105.jpgThe hyperspace journey had not been a terribly long one, though it had been the first time he ever put in the calculations for a trip to Arkania. He knew of the world, mostly for its dragons, but not much else. Of course, that had been up until Lord Drakul Xarxes, the Ruler of Arkania, had decided to grace him with apprenticeship. Never shy to learn more, Valentyn had begun studying the planet in an effort to know his Master better, and to also know what to wear upon his arrival. His studies had been limited by time, of course. He knew of the planet’s climate and its people, but not much beyond that quite yet. Though he worried not; he was sure Lord Xarxes would fill him in on any finer details that needed to be known.

With a lurch, the swirling tunnel of light slowed to a halt, the stars resuming their usual form of tiny pinpricks in the distance. The icy blue world of Arkania lied before him now, bathing his starfighter with light that held some strange darkness alongside it. He recognized the darkness, sensing the all-seeing eye of his Master. He took a breath, shifting his jaw and purging his mind of any negative thoughts. This is an opportunity, he told himself. A flash of imagination snuck through his mind, a single image of an Arkanian woman drenched in blood. Fun can come later.

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IC: Darth Eschaton
Veeshas Tuwan
The comms inside Valentyn's fighter crackled to life as a transmission reached his position. A not-so-familiar voice, formal and grating, hissed through the ship's cabin. "You are being sent the surface coordinates of where you are to land. Do not keep our Lord Xarxes waiting." The line went silent. Evidently, this individual was subservient to Lord Xarxes as well.

Beneath the ship, on the planet's surface, the blind-helmed Black Steward awaited inside the ice-cave hangar just adjacent to Veeshas Tuwan, awaiting the arrival of Lord Xarxes's current apprentice. Clad in fine dark robes contrasted by his grey boots, gauntlets, and tri-pointed helm, all flesh that remained exposed was haggard and deformed. His teeth were large, bloody, and rotten, indicative of poor hygiene and an even poorer diet. The only thing not intrinsically dark or disgusting about him was the lightsaber that hung at his hip, carved of bleach-white bone-like wood. Despite not being a Sith Sword like the one his benefactor wielded, it was intimidating enough itself and gave off an eerie aura, as the figure wielding it himself did.

He stood, stoically, waiting to deliver the remainder of his master's orders upon the arrival of the Apprentice.

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Darth Kain

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IC: Apprentice Valentyn
Ice Cave Hangar, Arkania

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“I would not dream of it.”

The voice at the other end of the line had made no attempt to respond, and so Val sighed. It appeared that there were quite a few beings in service to the Sith that lacked all sense of humor. And while it was largely a tool to earn the trust of lesser-minded fools, Valentyn had always enjoyed watching one’s mental faculties tremble each and every time he caused even a chuckle. To create laughter breeds familiarity. To breed familiarity is to gain trust. To gain trust is to find the chink in your enemy’s armor. And anyone who was not Valentyn was his enemy. Such was the way of things. Dealing with someone that lacked a good sense of humor meant that he had one less avenue to gain their trust.

No matter. If this fool’s trust cannot be gained, then his fear will have to do. One day.

The starfighter soon broke through the clouds of Arkania, the frigid cold of the dark side penetrating the hull with far more efficiency than even the cold of the weather ever could. Snow blanketed much of the landscape, only leaving bare the sides of distant mountains and impending starscrapers. Val never did much like the cold. But it was something he would have to get used to, no doubt. Discomfort was often the breeding ground for learning. At least, for most beings it was.

He arrived at the coordinates in short order, the Ionizer pulling into the icy hangar and settling at its designated landing zone. The apprentice took one last breath of solitude before the cockpit’s canopy snapped open with a hermetic hiss, and the next breath was that of genuine Arkanian air.

It burned in his lungs.

Regardless, he leapt deftly from the starfighter, allowing the canopy to automatically close behind him as he landed a few meters short of Lord Xarxes’ servant. Now that he had gotten close, recognizing both the signature in the Force as well as the smell, he knew that this was not just a mere servant. This man, this… thing, had earned the title of Darth. And so, when Valentyn landed, he landed in a kneel, bowing his head out of manufactured respect for one that had earned a title greater than his own. For now.

“Greetings,” said the apprentice. “I understand you have my Master’s orders?”

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IC: Darth Eschaton
Arkania
Whelp. I can taste his insolence in the air, his hidden intentions lay bare before me. But surely my master chose him despite this?

Darth Eschaton leered at the genuflecting Kage, regarding him with a twisted mixture of distaste and manufactured pleasure.\. He did not intend to hide his feelings about this one all too well.

"My Master, Lord Drakul Xarxes, bids thee welcome," he rasped through bloodied, rotting teeth. "Come, we must abscond to the Soul Forge."

The cloaked and mantled figure reached out a guiding hand, encased in midnight plates of stygian make, gesturing towards the towers of Veeshas Tuwan. The frosted tips of the once-grand library now stood desolate and course, as bone-white as a sun-stained skeleton. The Black Steward paid no heed to the cold, his movements unabated by the oncoming ice storm. His dark trail billowed outwards as roaring winds beat about the two, giving him the appearance of a wight encased in shadow.

The pair, despite the hostile conditions, reached the entrance to the closest tower, and from there stuck to passageways and stairwells, navigating the darkness by the light of a glowing green lantern that Eschaton had picked up.

In time, they came upon an intricate mosaic in a small room, depicting a Sith holocron held by a gnarled hand. No sooner had they crossed it then they felt a sudden shift as the room before them changed completely. Instead of dirtied stones, the walls were encased in dark marble and the floor with similar stone tiles. Surrounding the space where they had appeared, at intervals around the room, were several caskets, rattling slightly, suspended by chains. In the room's center was a pedestal, an orb of crystal, bloodred wisps dancing within, set atop it. Eschaton bowed deeply beside Valentyn, a deep growl emanating from his throat.

"Welcome, my Apprentice, to the Soul Forge."

The familiar voice came from the shadows, and was soon followed by the figure of Darth Drakul Xarxes, enshrouded by a cloak somehow darker even than the room. He looked down upon his apprentice, awaiting a bow and hail, the proper decorum for such a meeting.

"I shall tell you its secrets in time. For now, however, I wish to learn more of you, and to see you at work. Tell me, Valentyn, what is it you fear most about the Sith and the Jedi? How do you seek to overcome what fears you have? Do you fear me? The Triumvirate? The Empress? Do you fear those in power above you? Or do you fear yourself, or some unattainable goal you long to reach but never can? Unveil your mind to me, willingly, and tell no lies."

As he spoke, Valentyn would begin to feel a creeping presence surrounding his mind. It was not invasive, but held much power, and could surely poke its way through to the Kage's innermost thoughts if it desired.

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IC: Apprentice Valentyn
The Soul Forge, Arkania

The Soul Forge. That sounds ominous.

Val’s breath led the way for him as he followed the disgusting Sith. The air was growing more and more frigid with each passing second. One could scarcely be any colder on this planet, save for any foolish enough to take a dip in one of the many frozen lakes on the surface. It took every ounce of his will to maintain the facade of the brave apprentice, to not violently shiver and retreat back into his ship, where some measure of warmth could be ensured.

Regardless, they had made it to the tower, and were further guided by the emerald light of the lantern that Eschaton had acquired. And from there, after a journey through the dark corridors of this place, they soon came to a room that… well, Val had never seen another quite like it. The room had changed around them, shifting in shape, color, and feeling in a matter of moments. It reminded him of himself, of his outward deception compared to the evil that rested beneath. That change only came in the heat of the moment, on the first downward swing of an axe into the back of his victim’s skull. But this… this was not a change of heat or of passion. The room changed with cold indifference, which eerily matched the aura of the man that had no doubt been responsible for the transformation.

Lord Drakul Xarxes arrived, wrapped in a darkness darker than a moonless night. Valentyn fell to his knee immediately, shouting a proud, “Hail, my master,” before the Dark Lord could begin with his questions.

And then came Valentyn’s answers.

“All I fear of the Jedi and Sith is what I fear of any being that I pass on the street,” he said. “All I fear is their ability to kill me. And yet, with each passing day that I learn, that fear lessens at the same pace as their ability to kill me lessens. With time, I will have no need to fear death, or those that may try to deal it.”

He paused for a moment, trying to think of the right words.

“I fear all of my superiors for that very same reason. Any of you could kill me, and the Order would celebrate with wine and dance. But it is not a fear I allow to interfere in my training. Rather, it is something that I use to further my training. It presents a goal. A goal to one day no longer need to fear you, or the Triumvirate, or even the Empress. And if I one day die of old age, with fear still in my heart for any of you, then I will have failed you. Not only for dying of old age, but for dying while in the clutches of my greatest weakness.”

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IC: Drakul Xarxes
The Soul Forge, Arkania

The master nodded, his hood inclining slightly, yet otherwise remaining motionless as one of the coffins to the side began to tremble more violently.

"Indeed, Valentyn. You do well to show fear where appropriate, especially that you consider how anybody, be they a student of the Force or not, has the potential to sever your life thread. Yet…," he paused, craning his head slightly as though in contemplation. "I feel as though this fear can be tempered further. There was a Sith once in the time of the Clone Wars who made the bold, yet false, claim that Sith have no fear. This is an error. All of us Sith contain fear, however elusive it may be. Exploiting this fear, and forcing it to surface in unexpected ways, is a tool most useful to us. Therefore, I shall let you attempt to do such."

The rattling casket opened, its lid nearly being ripped off by the surprising strength of the one contained within. Though the figure bounded for Drakul, his overgrown fingernails prepared to sink into whatever flesh lay beneath the cloak, he was halted nearly instantly, his body freezing in the viselike grip of the Nightfather's telekinesis. Now still, Valentyn would be able to see he was an Arkanian, or at least used to be. One of his arms was horrible misshapen and bloated with muscle compared to the other, and it bore a strange purple coloring. On the opposite side of his body, one eye was completely red and oozing a viscous, snottish substance. He was dressed in rags, if you could call his state "dressed." In fairness, some remnants of cloth remained, but it did little to conceal his mutated genitalia. Whatever this thing was, it was no longer a man. Its face was contorted in an expression of manic rage, its one good eye fixated and wide at the figuring currently paralyzing him.

"This creature was once an individual of low moral value but high status, sought out by my Zealots and taken in for experimentation when it was found it had been abusing its children. Here, beneath the tundra of Arkania, in this space where sorcerers of old chanted away, I changed him. Now, it is mindless, an animal who clearly does not fear me. See, then, whether you can break him."

A blast of telekinetic force sent the creature face-first into the marble floor, a sickening sound of smashed flesh resounding. Some of the oozing substance could be seen to pool on the floor where its face had been. It looked up, only enough to look ahead before the Nightfather froze him again.

"Go on, Apprentice. Break his mind with yours."

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IC: Apprentice Valentyn
The Soul Forge, Arkania

Picsart_22-02-14_19-50-41-157.jpgThe apprentice paid the creature only a glance of utter disgust. He was not quite so worried about this thing, not really. But he was worried about something else entirely.

His gaze found the all-seeing eye of his Master, and his look of disgust twisted into confusion. Was this some sort of trick? A test of wit rather than a simple test of telepathic might?

“Master, you said this… thing, was mindless. How am I meant to break something that no longer exists?”


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IC: Drakul Xarxes
The Soul Forge, Arkania
The Apprentice is asking the right questions, thought Xarxes. Indeed, it is a greater challenge than expected.

"When a creature turns from intelligent to beastial, it is often, as is the case here, the result of some form of intellect-dampening tool or technique. This one is not missing its original brain, though its mind has been processed to perceive certain things in certain ways, and to have an aggressive reaction in most instances. His mind, however, still contains all its memories, and old habits still lay about. If you can plumb its depths, you will surely see horror, but it will be quite visible to your mind's eye. Infiltrating such a deformed mind, on the other hand, is more difficult than you may first expect. You will see in time what I mean."

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IC: Apprentice Valentyn
The Soul Forge, Arkania

It had felt like an eternity that Val sat there, thinking, watching this repulsive creature be held in place by the telekinetic might of Darth Drakul Xarxes. It was utterly disgusting in every sense of the word, and there was little doubt that what little thought remained in its broken mind was even more abhorrent than its outsides. But Valentyn had no intention of driving through its mind like the head of a spear, piercing the soft tissue of a mushy brain. No, he had to do this intelligently. The only way to break a mind was with a superior one, and mentally attacking an animal like an animal would only lead to a battle of wills. And though Valentyn had no doubt that his will was superior, there need not be a battle here at all. In time, this thing would submit to him. There was little doubt of that.

Valentyn outstretched a hand and closed his eyes, blocking out all distractions of the physical: the biting cold and the putrid stench, so he may remain undisturbed in the dastardly game he decided to now play. He did not want to break down the walls of its mind with a battering ram; he wanted to have it open the gates on its own. And so, because of the broken creature’s fractured mind, a complex illusion would be able to accomplish the task.

Should Val be successful, the creature would see the apprentice lower his hand, down to the lightsaber on his belt. In a flash of azure, the plasma would fly across the room, slashing across the exposed face of the Dark Lord. A cry of pain would signal the creature’s freedom, as Xarxes no longer cared to hold it in place. The lightsaber would fly back into Val’s hand before he took hold of the creature, limply holding onto its arm before the two would suddenly vanish from the Soul Forge.

They would be in a field out in the Arkanian wilds, by a hut with a warm fire within. It would see the apprentice panting, the exertion of teleporting them here obviously proving an immense challenge.

“I will not let that monster continue to torture you,” he would hear the apprentice say. “I can return you to your original state. I can return you to your family. Do you want that?”

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IC: The Beast
Dead? Monster…dead?

The creature stared, puzzled, as the world around it shifted, its liberator having caught hold of its mottled flesh, pulling it through into a different environment. The warmth hit its flesh quickly, something it was unused to, the Soul Forge itself being perpetually freezing.

It almost went to lunge at the liberator, but some sliver of its evolutionary state remained, preventing it from lashing out like an animal. The words it said, "family," in particular, resonated with the dumb beast. It let out a snarl, one less vicious than before. Yes, if it could want anything, it wanted release, though its mind could not comprehend this, its body responded positively. Perhaps this was out of instinct from its previous form, not so unlike the domesticated Loth wolves many Sith and bounty hunters alike had tamed. Gingerly, it drew closer to the former apprentice, opening itself to him.

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IC: Apprentice Valentyn
Somewhere More Pleasant Than Here

Were this more than mere illusion, were this creature to truly nuzzle up to his heels, Valentyn would have planted his boot in its face. But there was no hint of malice shown. He was going to help the poor thing. He would heal it. He would reunite it with its family. That is what it wanted. And that was exactly what it was going to get.

Days and days more would pass in a blur. Rigorous tests, alchemical equations, magicks both light and dark; all of it and more flashed before the creature’s eyes like a dream. It would remember pain. It would remember impatience. But most of all, it would remember hope. Hope that perhaps, just perhaps, life could return to normal. Before the fiends in service to the Dark Lord barged into his home. Before they beat it. Before they slapped it in irons and carted it off to the castle. Before the experiments, the torture, the hell that it had been forced to endure. This apprentice would right those wrongs, correct the course of his existence.

It -- no, he… he would remember that it had taken weeks. But he was as he was before. A rough, but still fairly handsome Arkanian. Light hair, light skin, coarse hands. But this was him. The apprentice had made him whole again.

“Are you ready?” he would hear. “Are you ready to return home?”

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IC: The Beast

The creature did not hesitate. The images before it were too convincing and, almost on instinct, nodded. Its gruesome features curled back, a display that was sure to disgust the apprentice.

It never even occurred to the creature that the concepts of space and time, the ability to manipulate molecules on a whim, might not be within the purview of the apprentice. Such was the contrast of the beast's naivete to the cunning and charisma of Valentyn.

It took two steps forward toward the images floating in its head, ready for its dreams to come true…

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IC: Apprentice Valentyn
Home

medieval_house_by_prabhudk_d7uvg00-fullview.jpg

The reforged man stepped within his humble abode. It was warm. A fresh fire had been set in the hearth. It smelled heavenly. Katra was in the kitchen, cooking ish’tn dumplings as she did on every third day of the week. To think, he had once grown tired of her cooking. Now there was nothing more he desired in all the universe. His daughter, beautiful and serene, sat by her brother, older and stronger, at the fire. He was reading her a book. She was listening to every word.

His family heard the door close behind him. The man would outstretch his arms. He had been freed. He was home.

His little girl saw him and screamed. She ran, scrambling along the wooden floor and dashing into her room. His wife, seeing him from the kitchen, twisted from the most beautiful woman in the galaxy to a woman scorned. She grabbed the pot of dumplings, still boiling, and tossed it at him.

Agony enveloped him. It felt as if his flesh was melting away. Boils and pustules dotted his decaying skin, bursting with puss and juice. He fell to his knees.

His boy, his dutiful, faithful boy, pulled the family slugthrower from above the hearth.

Perhaps the melting man pleaded with him. It mattered not.

A squeeze of the trigger took away half of his skull. He fell to the floor.

They were not happy to see the man that had abused them. They had been guaranteed his was gone. That they were the ones who were free. He had no family left. None that would accept him. None that wouldn’t hesitate to murder him for his terrible, unspeakable crimes.

inferno_archive-becf91cdf5140a602f77b5514b518ba7db4db4f6.jpgThe creature kept falling. Melted, destroyed. It fell into a lake of fire. Torture of untold magnitude plagued not its broken body, but its very soul. Its crimes were revisited upon it a thousandfold, and beyond. It was judged, and deemed wanting. This was a hell far more terrible than any it had experienced in life, it knew. Not even the vile Lord of Arkania had been so cruel. He couldn’t be. He could not match the wrath of the judge. Its sins were laid bare. And it paid for them all.

It would awake from its trance in a start. It had experienced all of this, an eternity of damnation, the betrayal of its family… all in a manner of moments. But the Lord of Arkania, he was still here. He was still alive. The apprentice was here. What was happening?

“There is nowhere left in all the universe left for you,” Valentyn purred with the voice of the judge. “Your family does not love you. And death would only be a gateway to an even worse torture that not even your vision could do justice. Lord Xarxes is all you have now. Fear the day that he deems you no longer fit to live. Obey his every command. Pray for forgiveness. And maybe you will avoid the gaze of the judge.”

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THE AFFLICTION OF A FRACTURED MIND
The Trial and Tribulations of Quarzitian Valentyn
A Combo by Christian Oxford and Christopher Young
All art created by MidJourney A.I.

“Of all the monsters I have created, I still regard Darth Vader as something of a minor masterpiece. No, he was not an entirely alchemical creation, but he was my monster nevertheless.”

“Choose someone as a successor and you will inevitably be succeeded. Choose someone hungrier and you will be devoured. Choose someone quicker and you won't dodge the blade at your back. Choose someone with more patience and you won't block the blade at your throat. Choose someone more devious and you'll hold the blade that kills you. Choose someone more clever and you'll never know your end. Despite these cautions, an apprentice is essential.
A Master without an apprentice is a Master of nothing.”


~Darth Sidious


Theme: Elden Ring OST - Opening

Veeshas Tuwan, Arkania

In the depths of the Underforge of Veeshas Tuwan, the location of many a despicable experiment by the icy land’s cold-hearted Lord, a figure stood hunched over an oblong table of midnight stone, clutching in hand a dripping heart and a crooked dagger. The bloody lips of the figure were pulled tightly back in a vicious grin, revealing blackened fangs. A dark tongue, dripping with venom, occasionally licked the dry and cracked lips as he pored over his work, bringing the daggertip to the heart and gently cutting into the flesh, a runic shape carved out by the careful motion of his fingers.
His purpose, to the average onlooker—though no average person would ever find themselves gazing upon the goings-on here—would be unknown, but to a practitioner of Nightsister magicks, it would have great significance indeed. One in possession of such knowledge stood across the dark desktop, watching his magistrate work with intentionality with one gold-glowing oculus. The other was focused on the ornate circular slab of tile that marked the site of entry to the secret laboratory. His unseen eye, meanwhile, perceived the tile’s twin hundreds of meters above them, where his Apprentice had been ordered to stand.
The Dark Lord wore, as in their last meeting, a cloak of midnight black, enshrouding all of his features in darkness, with only the blue-green light of the hanging lanterns shining any illumination upon him. In his hand, he carried the map fragment that Valentyn had previously retrieved, now joined with its other part, complete at last. For Valentyn’s last assignment, he would need it returned to him.

The apprentice had grown used to the cold. As used to it as a Kage could, anyhow. His cloak, dark and warm, hung from his head and shoulders and draped to the icy floor below. A twitch came to his cybernetic hand, the internal wirings adjusting to the change in temperature with electrical pulses to compensate. Valentyn hated the damned thing. It was a reminder of his failures.
But today was yet another day where failure could not be allowed; failure was not in the cards any day that Lord Drakul Xarxes summoned one to Veeshas Tuwan. Green light spilled from the lantern held in his organic hand, guiding him along the dark halls and passageways of this particular tower. With time and more than a little patience on the part of the impatient apprentice, Valentyn came to the all-too-familiar mosaic in a small room. Its intricacies were examined and reexamined with every visit, and yet it always displayed the same image: a pyramidal holocron, glowing crimson, clutched by a gnarled, twisted hand.
He crossed the room to the tiled floor he had been called to stand upon; the place where his Master’s control over the very fabric of space would be displayed, its own mosaic of horrifying power.

That power would manifest in an instant as in one moment, between a shutter in the Kage’s eyes, his surroundings completely changed, and he stood once more in the now-familiar lair of the Dark Lord. The Black Steward hunched close at hand, clutching the bleeding heart, etched with esoteric symbols. His Master stood just before him, his form hidden beneath a cloak of midnight black. He sighed deeply, a strong exhale of a full chest of air, carrying the same weight a command would. Valentyn would come to realize it was his greeting.
“Apprentice,” he began, extending a commanding arm, “you have done well in your training, exceptionally so, over these past few months. You have shifted from a bold but misguided youngling to a capable pursuant of power. In short, you are closer to your full realization as a Sith. Hence…,” he paused as his wrist flicked upward, a small chest quickly flying to float before him briefly before settling in front of Valentyn.
“Here are your belongings which I withdrew from you when this Apprenticeship began. You may use any and all of them in the trial to come.” There was no hint of pride or hope in Xarxes’s voice. Valentyn would know by now to intuit the meaning of the deep tone.
“I am sending you to the location on the star map you retrieved from Rhelg for me to obtain a very specific item. As in the case of Rhelg, your affiliation with me cannot be known, and you must remain hidden as much as possible throughout. While this may not appear the most promising task to you, I can assure you above all that failure to remain hidden will result in the most challenging combat you have faced thus far, and the reward for survival is knowledge beyond what you believe possible.”
Xarxes knew all too well that Valentyn craved knowledge—power—and would very much consider the unnamed prize a reward most beneficial to the young Kage.
Among the items within the offered chest was the star map, now complete, and a single file contained in a holo puck. Xarxes addressed them immediately. “Indeed, that is your intended destination, a hidden place which can only be found by those who already know where it is. It was the home, not so long ago, of a very powerful Force user. There was a great battle there, one which shook the foundations and destroyed much of what was built in the region you are being sent to, but it is likely to have been rebuilt since that time. When you arrive on the planet, you will then open the file to see your target. Once more, you shall be alone. I will aid you not. Is this all understood, Apprentice?”

Valentyn’s face was a twisted array of confusion resulting from the thoughts that ran through his hyper-focused mind. Zero, four, seven, nineteen, eight. Numbers, random. A technique he had learned to prevent any untoward thoughts from getting heard by his Master. Were he not thinking about these numbers, he would be lamenting this task with every ounce of his being. He was a warrior, a duelist, a fighter! Not some lowly assassin who can only survive through stealth and trickery. Nor was he an errand boy, meant to be sent across the galaxy to retrieve every bit and bobble that fancied the Lord of Arkania. What was any of this meant to teach him? To go outside of his comfort zone? Even coming to this damnable planet was more than enough evidence that he was capable of that.
He sighed, taking the items out of the chest and closing it shut. “I understand, Master.” Fourteen, nine, eight-hundred-and-seven, sixty-nine, two. But the apprentice could not help but cast a peculiar glance over at the still-beating heart in the clutches of the Black Steward. “I am not familiar with this ritual,” he said.

ezgif-3-48045623a8.jpgThe hood of the Dark Lord shifted slightly as his vision was cast upon the form of Darth Eschaton, putting the finishing touches on the runes inscribed in the organ. When he had finished, the Steward held up the piece of flesh, revealing its still-bleeding nature. His wicked grin was unsettling, to be sure, but his work had been done carefully, just as Xarxes had ordained.
“This rite,” seethed the sickly Muun, “is one of the ancient dark arts, the likes of which most of the Order has not touched for millennia. I cannot fathom why its completed form is being entrusted to you, but it is not my place to question the authority of so great a Lord as the Nightfather.” He held the leaking heart out for Valentyn to take as Xarxes elucidated.
“This, my Apprentice, is one of binding power. A very specific curse has been placed upon this object which, when activated by the mixing of your blood with its, will allow the shackle to paralyze, albeit momentarily, an enemy. I do not intend for you to die on this mission, as the acquisition of the sought-after relic is far more important to me.” His tone took on a note of condescension, however brief, that would certainly be caught.
“Should you fail in your shadowy approach, I do not doubt that you will be forced to use it in the most crucial moment of combat. I have foreseen such a possibility, Apprentice, so you must not forget it, lest you lose your life.”

The runed heart practically fell into the grasp of the Apprentice, blood pouring between his fingers. Questions of how he should adequately contain the vile thing floated through his mind, but he thought better than to ask them aloud, especially after the thinly-veiled insult of Lord Xarxes and the clear-as-day insult of Eschaton. Perhaps there was an underlying goal to their treatment of him. After all, their lack of confidence made him want to achieve his goals with undying vigor out of utter spite. Yes, perhaps that was their goal.
But it would not save them the day he returned the favor for their words.
“The knowledge of such arts eludes me. For now,” said Val, carefully placing the cursed heart into a concealed, sealed pouch in his satchel. Thankfully it was made of sturdy-enough hide to hold the blood without the worry of leaks. Staining was another matter, however. “But I will be sure to use it if necessary, my Master. Any boon given by you would be foolish to squander.” Only now did he realize that, for a moment, he had forgotten his left hand was not of flesh and bone like his right. Strange, how the body claims what is not its out of sheer convenience and forgetfulness.
“Was there anything else, my Lord?”

“You may go, Apprentice,”
he growled after a moment. As he raised his hand to transport the young Sith away, he whispered one last thing into the mind of the Kage.

“Do not, for a moment, consider ending the one presiding over the planet, or you shall not live to regret it.”
And with that, Valentyn would find himself again standing atop the decorated tile at the planet’s icy surface. What he would not hear was Xarxes’s orders to his steward.
“Prepare the room for his return. I have foreseen it, and I shall not allow him rest before finishing his trial.”


* * *

The trek back down to the hangar had felt shorter than the trip up, thanks to the thoughts that plagued Valentyn’s freed mind. Who was it that now presided over this planet? Perhaps it was simply now the property of another mighty Sith Lord, maybe even a Dark Councilor. Whoever it was, they had the protection of Xarxes, and Val was not foolish enough to disobey an order from the actual Hand of Order.
Soon he found himself settled in the cockpit of his Ionizer, punching in the coordinates given by this mysterious Star Map. Once the navcomputer accepted the calculations, the Apprentice reclined in his seat. He recognized this area on the map; it had been known throughout the galaxy as a place one should always strive to avoid.
“The Maw…” he muttered. “What…”
Why did he have to go to the most dangerous area in all the galaxy? And why did he have to wait until he reached this reclusive world to view his target?
To create more challenge than there truly is. The voice in the back of his mind was his own, yet not. It was his thought; it was his brain that fired those particular synapses. But it had not been of his own accord, he could tell. It was a strange sensation, an auditory hallucination within your mind. But it was no hallucination. The words spoken in his mind were as real as any word he could say aloud.
He suppressed the alien thoughts and engaged the engines, lifting off and soaring through the dark, snowing clouds of Arkania and into the starry void beyond. And then, with the push of a lever, the void transcended, twisting and swirling into a cerulean vortex of madness. Hyperspace had always been a peaceful place for the young Kage, a place to gather himself and think without distraction and little worry of delay. Perhaps now, as he knew that within hours he would be soaring past a sea of black holes, it was not quite so peaceful as usual.


* * *

As the hours ticked by and the ship eventually exited the whirlpool of stars into sublight speed once more, Valentyn would become increasingly aware, through the Force, of the invisible depression in space, the event horizons of the region of the galaxy known as The Maw. From what he could recollect, few could pass through this field easily, a star fleet being almost certainly doomed to death, while a smaller ship, such as the legendary Millenium Falcon, might stand a chance. Valentyn was no mean fighter when compared to greats such as Han Solo and the infamous Luke Skywalker, but nonetheless, he knew it was possible, especially with the aid of the Force.
A black hole is not merely the end of time and space, but is a myriad of pain and destruction of life, an end to the very Force behind the event horizon. Furthermore, the creatures which could possibly dwell within—Summa Verminoth, Star Weirds, and more—could easily spell defeat for the young Sith.
Thankfully, while larger ships and fleets were far more susceptible to the pulls and whims of the cosmos, Valentyn’s choice of starship was anything but large. With a steady hand and the Force to back it up, the fighter would be capable of making the trip safely. Of this, Valentyn was certain. Now, whether that capability translated to reality, well, that was something to discern after the fact.
The young apprentice made a few minor adjustments to the pull of the throttle as he pushed through the gravitic fields that dared to ensnare him. With this pace, he would make it to the planet in a few hours, perhaps less if he made it within the star system faster than expected. But he was not going to rush what needn’t be rushed. If a methodical hand were the most applicable to the situation, such would be the hand he used.

Entering sublight from this position was less risky than going straight through hyperspace, but it still meant hours of travel. Not terribly many, but with the amount of small black holes, it could still take some time before Valentyn reached the planet he was destined for. There were only a few around, invisible to the naked eye, but their event horizons could end anywhere. It was up to Valentyn’s proficiency with the Force to assist in the navigation.

Danger had lurked every inch beyond the path destined before him. To tarry or veer from the route the Force had ordained would mean his death. And so he did not linger, nor did he challenge his instincts. It was easy to let the Force do the work. Frustrating, perhaps, if he thought too long on whether or not his skill could do just as well. But there was no need to play it fast and loose here. The reward did not come close to outweighing the risk.
This attitude had, quite literally, carried him far. Soon he found himself on the edge of the star system, the distant, distinct twinkle of nearing planets dotting the view past the transparisteel.

Valentyn had but a few moments of rest entering the star system proper before his comms started to buzz. A transmission was being sent over a closed network, waiting for reception on Valentyn’s end. As the Apprentice decided whether to accept it or not, the comms buzzed to life anyway, a deeply garbled, yet distinctly robotic voice blared through the small starship.
“Requesting identification. State your intention. Any hostilities will be met with immediate disintegration.”
There was no further speaking, just static as the communicator waited for an answer from the Kage.

He had to think, and quickly. This was the home of a powerful Force User, right? And Lord Xarxes had only said that no one could not know Valentyn’s association with him. He had said nothing about Val’s other affiliations. But Xarxes had not specified whether this owner was Jedi or Sith. Whoever they were, they must have had quite a good amount of credits to afford an automated defense system that could detect something as small as a fighter entering the star system. Jedi didn’t carry around that kind of cred.
It was a risk, but this was one he was willing to take.
“This is Knight Vandron from the New Sith Order,” he lied. “I was sent to study the world of a powerful Force user that once lived here.”

Fzzzt! The communication was abruptly cut short, and for a time, Valentyn had little to no idea of what was happening. As he neared the star system’s sole planet, however, something became incredibly clear. A satellite in the orbit of the planet, moving fairly quickly around the celestial sphere, came into view, and from its sides were speeding fighters, headed right towards the Apprentice’s vessel. As soon as they were within range, Valentyn could make them out. They were clearly not piloted vessels, but drones sent to kill him. They weren’t large by any means, but their smaller size meant great speed, and they were approaching fast.
They unloaded their armaments towards him, red bolts of light streaking through the empty expanse of space. Worse, however, was that two of the oncoming fighters weren’t just coming straight toward him at incredible speed, but were showing no signs of slowing or redirecting. These drones intended, he would realize, to collide directly with the hull of his vessel!

The Force was a powerful tool, and the only thing that kept Valentyn alive. He began to enact evasive maneuvers, rolling the ship through the dark expanse of space and narrowly dodging the incoming turret fire. And as the Force warned him of the kamikaze droids, so too did it give him ample time to line up his shot. As the ships moved in closer, Val let loose with a barrage of ionizer cannonfire, hoping to disable them before rolling the vessel out of their collision course. The maneuver proved successful, and the two oncoming droid fighters, taken suddenly in their course, were disabled on impact with the ion cannons, allowing Valentyn’s spinning vessel to evade them nimbly. However, the other fighters, numbering at least ten, were undeterred. While three more adjusted their course to aim for the rear of his vessel, the other seven looped around and split off, attempting to come at him from all angles. And so Val pressed the throttle down, engaging the full speed of his engines as he tried to maintain evasive maneuvers.
It was apparent that the numbers would overwhelm him if he tried to fight these drones. Whoever had this installation made was trying to ensure nothing would touch the planet and live to tell the tale.
Valentyn cursed to himself for the idea that just crept into his mind.
Focusing his shields on the rear, the young apprentice hit the afterburners, gunning it for the atmosphere. That’s as far as he would have to make it. He had to.
The engines roared through the vast expanse of space as the planet before Val grew larger, the vessel pushing its limits to outrun the drones or else to feint them. The oncoming cannonfire did not cease for an instant, but the rear shields were holding steadily due to their inconsistent aim. The occasional glancing bolt would not harm his ship, but the smaller-sized ships soon imitated their quarry, accelerating even more swiftly than he.
Clouds were what first greeted his arrival to Vitae. Then the flames of reentry. And finally, the sudden blast of a drone slamming into him. The Ionizer spun out of control. The console frantically beeped, warning its owner of his impending doom. His heart raced, but not nearly as fast as his mind. It seemed that a million thoughts had passed through his brain in a single second, each screaming at him to act.
His hand fumbled for the lever to his right, pulling it with a sudden jolt. But the crash appeared to have done more damage than he’d feared. The emergency ejectors had failed.
And so he braced, using what power he had in the Force to shield his body from whatever horrors he was about to endure. He first felt the ship skim past a tree, then slam through the trunk of another. The third impact was the ground, and it took every ounce of his will to stay conscious as the fighter skittered through the mud and dirt, finally crashing one final time into the base of a tree too strong to be felled even by the mangled remains of a starship.
The apprentice slammed his fist onto the canopy latch, forcing the cockpit open. The choking smoke did little to deter him from growling, “Another happy landing,” before beginning the slow crawl into the mud of whatever hell his Master had sent him to.


* * *

Vitae, the Jungland Wastes

The burning wreckage, a mass of metal entwined in now-collapsed vines and smoldering greenery, showed no signs of life save the shielded pilot crawling from the shattered cockpit window. Despite the destruction behind him, Valentyn remained relatively unharmed, the Force being a powerful ally. As he picked himself up and stood in the mud the crash was sinking into, he finally got a chance to look at his surroundings. Above the crooked jungle trees and sprawling vines and bush, a rising volcanic peak stood, its mouth emitting faint smoke but not much else. Taking a brief moment, he realized there was nothing else that could act as a landmark above the remaining treeline.
He felt his pouch, noting that the relics given to him by his Master remained intact. No sooner had he done this than he began to hear the faint screech of engines from above. Peering towards the dimming sky, he caught a glimpse of the dark shapes steadily approaching, slowing their descent as they perceived the crash site.
Fear drove his mind into a panicked frenzy. He dove into the trees, sitting at the base of a trunk. All that filled his ears were the engines of the dreadful drones and the pounding of his heartbeat. Fearing they could track him by his heat signature, the apprentice put his survival above whatever hope of cleanliness he had. He took a handful of cold, wet mud and slathered it on his neck and chest. Then he took another scoop, covering his face. He breathed in the dirt through his nose and sneezed, but he refused to slow down. Next came his hands, then his clothes. Anything that could implicate him as a living, breathing thing he buried in the sludge of this jungle.
The drones neared, and he stopped. His breaths grew shallow. Anticipation filled his veins like adrenaline, energy spreading across his muscles and ready to explode if the drones drew too close. The viscous half-solid fluid clogged his nostrils and found its way into every crack and crevice in his skin and clothes, but its purpose had been served. As the drones came closer into Valentyn’s half-muddied vision, brilliant-blue rays–obviously scanners–began emitting from their optical lenses, focusing on the wreckage and surrounding devastation. It was, luckily for Valentyn, not a bio-scanner, but an optical one. As the light passed over the mud-covered form of the Sith apprentice and continued on, he knew he was in the clear. Moments later, the drones were garbling in a droidspeak dialect the Kage was unfamiliar with, and shortly thereafter, they turned, flying back towards the satellite, which only now did Valentyn realize hung just above the volcano in the distance above the treeline.
The apprentice suddenly recalled the holo-puck Xarxes had given him and instructed him to open upon landing. While this couldn’t properly be called a landing, setting foot on the planet’s surface would have to be considered sufficient completion of that step. The Kage reached into his pouch after brushing his muddy hand against a tree, withdrawing the puck and activating it. An image of a mansion, though simpler in appearance than many of the fineries Valentyn had seen Sith Lords use in the past, rose into vision, accompanied by the grating growl of Drakul Xarxes.
“Apprentice, this is the home of a very powerful Force user and his closest allies, located on the planet Vitae. This place is of great importance to a few, I being one of those, and it is imperative that your presence remain unnoticed if possible. No permanent harm shall come to any you encounter here, but you may disable them if necessary."
The image of a woman appeared on screen, one of beauty the likes of which Valentyn had never seen before. Most noticeable about her was, despite the shimmering blue of the image and her apparent age, the Kage could tell that her shoulder-length hair was completely white.
“This woman is the primary danger to you so long as you remain here. The item I provided you with can be used to disable her long enough for you to defeat her should she discover you. Otherwise, you must locate this item.”
Another image appeared, this one of a strange sphere, glowing with runes not so dissimilar from a Sith holocron, though this was darker. “This is the item you must attain and return to me swiftly. It is, above all, imperative that it remains unopened. The relic is kept in a lockbox, though where that lockbox is within the manor is unknown. It will emit a unique presence within the Force, however. I have no doubt you will be able to sense it once you are near.”
Valentyn sneered at the hologram. Something else that my Master is too cowardly to take for himself.
“This will be your greatest challenge yet. Do not fail me.” The puck stopped, its projected images fizzling into nothingness. He slipped the device back into his pouch, sighing and leaning back against the tree. The bark was strangely patterned yet smooth, alien even to a non-human in a diverse galaxy. In fact, everything on this world seemed strange. The volcano looming just beyond this bustling jungle, the sickly sweet aroma of the vegetation, and even the air he breathed seemed like no other in the galaxy. There was a certain… warmth to it. Like he was home, and someone didn’t want him to leave.
Were such feelings welcome, perhaps he would have been tempted by this planet’s offer. Instead, for Valentyn, it simply made him all the more uneasy. Whatever manor he had to find, whatever woman he had to defeat, and whatever item he had to retrieve would have to be done quickly. The Force here felt like a taut string, ready to snap away at any given moment.
The stench of the mud on his flesh and garments was starting to irk, and the faint shape of black smoke coming from the volcano on the horizon snapped him from his thought. The tension hanging beyond the visible spectrum was tugging in the direction of that distant mountain, and the sense that his destination lay in that direction was unignorable. The sky above was beginning to turn a slightly darker shade, and there was little doubt that the jungle would become markedly less welcoming as the light faded.


* * *

A river of what appeared to be standard water stood but meters from the edge of the treeline leading out of the jungle, running nearly like a border between safety and danger. Despite preliminary sensing, no animal life was detected in the water in this part, but the feeling of danger was ever-present on the planet.

Of course, it’s dangerous here, he thought. Xarxes wouldn’t have sent me here if it was going to be a pleasant trip. But anything would undoubtedly be more enjoyable if he was clean of this filth, that was certain. And if he were going to be traipsing around some manor, he wouldn’t want to be tracking mud on the floor. Not only would it get him caught in a heartbeat, but it was also bad manners.
And so the apprentice went to the water’s edge, kneeling and scooping a water-filled handful before splashing his face. Again and again, the water weakened the thick layer of mud on his flesh, getting the worst of it off before he moved to his arms. There was a strange sensation in the air that kept him on edge, however, keeping him from feeling too safe here at the water’s edge. Any animal could come for a drink at any moment. But… why did he feel like the danger was coming from the water itself? He wasn’t bathing himself in poison, was he?

ezgif-3-3bbae35d91.pngHis middling skill failed to warn him in a timely manner as his leg was snatched up by some tentacle or other, sending him flying into the air upside-down, suspended by whatever foul creature had attacked him. In the midst of such motion, Valentyn would catch the sight of the border he had knelt on, a large bluish-green shape emerging from beneath the dirt and water alike before snapping its jaws.
The shape came into greater detail as the thing held him steadily above it. Several long tentacles wriggled at its base, while the large shape he had caught emerging now revealed itself to be some sort of head, wide and mostly flat. It now began to part more slowly, the eyeless thing revealing a purple juice spurting from the inner folds of the jaws, a line of a bone-like substance, similar to teeth, lining the top and bottom. At the back of the split was a dark chasm of mixed green and purple, a chasm which Valentyn could very easily tell the purpose of.

Fear was the catalyst for his survival. It sharpened his focus rather than dulling it, the pounding of his heart deafening him to all else but the vile thing attempting to devour him whole. It was a plant of some kind, obviously carnivorous. Perhaps it was why he had seen no animals treading near the water’s edge. If only he were as wisened as those beasts in the fauna of this hell.
His lightsaber flew to his grasp, and his first instinct was to cut at the tentacle that held his leg. But he knew he was being held precariously right above the creature’s jaws. He would fall into that maw if he were dropped so suddenly.
And so he dropped his lightsaber down into the chasm of its mouth, activating the blade mid-flight and spinning it with a small application of telekinesis as it fell, turning it into a whirling dervish of death.

The vortex of blurred cyan light proved successful, spinning its way into the plant’s “throat,” eviscerating as it went. The green and purple flesh was turned to burnt pulp as the saber connected, turning its lips to juice. A squeal erupted from the writhing beast, its startled and pained state causing it to drop the surprisingly calm apprentice to the ground. However successful the maneuver was, however, this was a plant, and a plant had no brain. Its many vines continued to whip about, coming dangerously close to connecting with the apprentice’s body, though his prone state saved him.

Despite falling into the shallow river, Valentyn rolled, turning and turning, until he felt dry ground again. He got to his knees, calling forth his lightsaber from the scorched insides of the writhing creature. It may have still been moving, but he doubted it could leave that river if it even wanted to.

The violent tendrils began hurtling toward Valentyn, some slamming down towards the earth from above, while others whipped around, thronging about the apprentice like flies descending on a rotting carcass. The squeals of the plant thing did not cease, intensifying into a high-frequency pitch that brought more than mere discomfort to a beholder.

Moving with a dancer’s grace, the apprentice stepped backward, blade bobbing and weaving around him. Soresu was an elegant lightsaber form, and he had certainly been practicing. He continued to back away further from the river, away from the vile creature’s reach. Any tendrils that would make contact with Valentyn would get sliced off first.

And sliced they were. Though many came close to touching him, they only did so after the azure blade had severed them from the main body of the creature. Short work was made of the plant, whose many tendrils began to dwindle as the apprentice spun his saber through them. In less than half a minute, the plant, moved completely by instinct and no sense of self preservation, remained with but a handful of writhing tentacles, its whine intensifying far beyond simple irritation.

Only now, as his blade danced back and forth, did his mind truly clear of distractions. This was a plant. Plants were not killed by severing their limbs or cutting up their insides. No, they were only dead when their roots were pulled from the ground and left to rot. And so Valentyn, now free of the creature’s tendrilous range, called upon his power in the Force, raising his hands like a composer orchestrating a symphony of savage carnage. He pulled at the plant’s roots, wanting to pull the entire creature out of the earth and toss it aside like the insignificant obstacle it was.

The trunklike roots heaved under the strain of the telekinetic grip, the semi-sentient creature realizing what was happening, yet powerless to stop it. At first, only writhing, wormlike roots popped from the soil, but they were quickly followed by great trunks of wood like X-Wing engines erupting from the ground. The plant’s whines shortened, intensifying in a display of fear and panic as one by one its lifelines were pulled, until the whole of the plant emerged, a massive, tangled mess of twisted wood and fibre.

The howls ceased as the now-limp clump of roots and green-blue sinew was tossed aside on the stream’s bank. At last, the air was silent.

It was a beautiful song, the silence. Only the screams of his victims were a sweeter tune for young Valentyn. With the plant dead, and his muddy exterior now soaked, it was clear that any further delays were only going to be met with monsters and mayhem. Such was the standard for a hellhole like this. It would do him well to get a move on. The sooner he got this artifact, the sooner he’d be free of this place, and of his apprenticeship to Lord Xarxes.



For a Force-user’s home protecting a powerful artefact, the place looked relatively unprotected, but the unique Force signature Xarxes had mentioned had led Valentyn here. There was no doubt that this was the place. Passing through the lush foliage to get a view of possible entrances, Valentyn would notice that, with the exception of two security cameras in the rear, there were no sensible external defenses. Still, it was not unlikely that whoever the white-haired woman was, she would pose a threat herself, and so the apprentice chose to not be seen.

Valentyn took stock of the house’s architecture, noting that it was a fine if simple design. There were plenty of glass windows, and while they offered many places of entry, they offered just as many places to get spotted from. There were three floors for the main building, which was attached to a large, permacrete landing pad that hung over the edge of the cliffside. Above that landing pad was a balcony on the second floor, and from here it appeared that it led straight into one of the estate’s bedrooms. No one was inside that room, at least, not that Valentyn could see or sense. And with no cameras in sight, that made the balcony the most likely spot to enter from.
And so he crept to the landing pad, staying out of the line of sight for the windows there, and gathered the Force in his legs. The energy exploded, sending him upward and onto the railing of the balcony. He climbed over, his lime-green eyes scanning around for any sign of life or recognition of his presence.

There was none. Valentyn’s assumption had been right that there were no cameras up here, and if there had been any hidden, they showed no sign of alarm at his presence. Likewise, the silence around him gave him all the assurance he needed that, at least for now, there was nobody with their sights on him. The glass doors ahead of him did not seem secured in the slightest, nor was there anyone on the other side. Within the building, Valentyn could see a well-decorated bedroom, with some fairly simple but undoubtedly expensive furnishings. To one side stood a doorway, leading further into the compound. The glass door itself was clearly meant to be automatic, but did not react to Valentyn’s presence. Perhaps it was disabled.

Strange, thought Valentyn. Do they know I’m here? Or are they so ignorant as to believe that the remoteness of this world and a few drones would be enough to keep them safe?
The apprentice made his way through the bedroom, noting that only one side of the bed had been used recently. The rest of the room seemed relatively untouched.
A sliding door opened to a hallway, empty of anything but two doors on either side, and a staircase leading both up and down at the end of the corridor. He pressed his ear to the left door, listening for any sign of movement, and simultaneously searching through the Force for any signs of life. There were neither, and when he opened the door, he found himself staring into quite the ornate bathroom. A large, triangular tub sported water jets and other spa-like amenities. The mirror above the sink seemed to be polished to a perfect degree. Even the toilet looked like something out of a holomagazine. But there was no one here, and certainly no powerful artifacts.
He made his way to the other door, the one across the hall. He heard no sound when he pressed his ear upon the door, but the Force… it warned him of something else. Something was alive in there. Something powerful.
The woman?
No, this was different. This wasn’t the honed blade of a seasoned Sith Lady. This was something more primal, more unfocused.
Curious, he opened the door, peeking inside to find… a crib. And inside it, a babe sleeping on its stomach.

It was pathetic. Completely defenseless, utterly useless, totally vulnerable. But it was not the target of Valentyn’s expedition. The sight set an alarm off in Valentyn’s mind. One of the fundamental rules of nature: where there is a child, not far will you find…
SNAP-HISS
The wave of telekinesis caught Valentyn by surprise, sending him crashing through the opposing wall and into a kitchen area, smashing into a cabinet full of cookware. Dazed, he looked up, the white-haired woman from the hologram moving slowly towards him, her ruby-red saber humming in her right hand. Her face bore a visage of malice, raw fury emanating from her like a fiery aura.
“Do not…approach…my son!”
Valentyn would hardly have time to react as a burst of Force Speed closed the distance between the two of them, and his eyes next beheld the Sith lady’s lightsaber curled back, preparing to strike him with a heavy swing.

The apprentice was only saved by the ignition of his blade proving faster than her swing. Azure met crimson in a violent clash of sparking plasma, the sabers locked with equal measures of force and intensity. One was powered by the need to survive, the other the need to protect.
“What…is…he?” Valentyn demanded through gritted teeth.

The crimson saber curled back with its wielder, creating space between herself and the rising apprentice. Her fiery eyes bored into him as her empty hand shot out, a burst of crackling energy arcing towards Valentyn.
“A trespassing dead man won't need to know!”
The lightning was strong, far stronger than any Valentyn had felt before, and as it caught his saber, he struggled to hold it back.

Knowing that holding his blade against this torrent of energy would prove fruitless, Valentyn’s eyes turned to the pots and pans that were scattered about from the crash. Invisible hands sent them floating just a moment before flying towards the Sith Lady. Not a lethal attack by any means, but he had no intention of killing her. Not yet, anyhow.

The woman was not unprepared, yet seemed to lack the focus to multitask, and thus her lightning ceased to allow her freedom to divert and slice through the flying metal.

With a dash of his own preternatural speed, the apprentice ducked out of the kitchen and back into the main hall, trying to create some separation between himself and the angry mother. Whatever he had been sent here to find had certainly not been that child of hers, but it wouldn’t matter to her either way.
Sorry to break in. I certainly had no intention of harming you or your children. But would you pretty please hand me over the priceless artifact in your possession? That would be very helpful.

Sure, that would go over well.
No, if he was going to get that damned thing without killing her, he was going to have to bargain. And there was something she valued far more than any artifact just another door down…

The Sith lady tore after him, whipping around in pursuit. A haphazard blast of telekinetic narrowly missed him, but the damage it caused to the wall in front of Valentyn raised the stakes. The power disparity between them was great, perhaps too great for him to compete with. Treachery was the only way.
The sight of the splintering metal from her telekinesis caused Valentyn to pause. He could hear his heart pound within his chest. Come to think of it, he could hear another heart, pounding in the pouch at his waist.

His blade dissolved back into the hilt as he dove into the baby’s room, scooping up the child and placing the end of his saber against the small of its back.
“Don’t come any closer!” he warned.

The woman stopped in her tracks, a look of mixed rage and horror overcoming her expression. Her saber remained raised, ready to strike at the intruder, but as she weighed the odds of her speed, she seemed to realize that the apprentice had moved too quickly. Her saber deactivated, but remained in her grip. “What do you want?” she seethed through gritted teeth. She was more than ready to act if the intruder did so much as twitch his saber arm, but in her current condition, she didn’t know if she could act quickly enough.

“The sphere!” Valentyn spit. “The damned glowing sphere, the one in your possession. The Order wants it. That’s all I came here for.” He made sure not to specify which order, just in case his affiliation was not yet known to her. Though she’d probably have an inkling, considering he had a now-waking infant as a hostage.

Abaddon’s eyes widened. While the presence of the Eye was mostly secret, there were those who knew of it, and there were definitely those who had studied it and could have ascertained its location, even among the Jedi Order. While the behavior displayed by Valentyn would normally be considered Sithly, Abaddon had learned from invading Jedi in times past that the modern tactics of each order were not all that distinguishable from one another.

Kain would never have wanted her to give up the Eye, surely. It was too powerful, too volatile. If it was taken by this interloper, there was no telling what her enemies would be able to do, and with the sort of power found within, there was no telling what sorts of unnamed destruction her could return to wreak upon her and her son.

Her son…

He was more important to Kain and to herself than the Eye. There was no more internal debate. A tear crept down her face as she stoically responded. “Very well,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll get you the kriffing sphere.” She turned, approaching the mirror hanging above a dresser. A wave of her hand uncovered the illusion present here, revealing a safe with an intricate lock behind it. Her fingers moved dexterously, interweaving the key to the lock telekinetically. With a loud CLICK it popped open, the safe doors splitting to reveal, nested on a small pillow, a spherical Holocron of sorts. Abaddon stepped back, now looking at Valentyn, waiting for his move.

Were he not trying to appear confident and immovable, he would have let out a sigh of relief. He could feel through the Force its untameable energy, its eldritch mysteries, its celestial power. This had to be the artifact that Xarxes desired. And now that he was in arm’s reach of it, he wanted it. The Lord of Arkania had forbade him from using it, but… would Xarxes be able to stop him if he did?
Greed washed over his mind like a sea of gold.
He hooked his lightsaber to his belt, still holding on to the child, and called the sphere to his grasp.

As soon as the polished surface of the holocron touched him, his body lost all sense. His vision blurred into a nightmarish void, silent for but a moment. An emerald burst of flame covered his vision, a great dark pupil at the center, staring into the depths of his being. A demonic groan echoed through his ears, the word “surrender” reverberating through his essence. A sense of dread overcame him, hopelessness as the penalty of power…

And then it dissipated, and Valentyn found himself once more facing the snow-haired woman, her child in his one arm, the holocron gripped in his other.
“You have what you want,” spat the woman. “Now give me back my son!”

He looked down at the child now. It was beginning to cry, struggling to reach for its mother. Valentyn felt no pity for the thing, no human aching of the heart to see such a helpless creature. He would have had no qualms about dropping it to the floor and crushing it into a thick red wine. But the sneaking suspicion that such an act would get him killed was enough to stop him from giving in to such sweet delights.
He extended the baby to its mother, keeping sure that he had a firm grip on the holocron. “Here,” said Valentyn. “Take him.”

If Abaddon hadn’t an ounce of doubt that she could both save her child and kill the intruder, she would have taken the chance here and now. Yet her spirit was not settled, nor had it been since Kain’s passing, nor the desolate encounter with the demon who had marked her so. Had she been at her best, Valentyn would have fallen before he reached her baby’s room.

Such was not the case today. Abaddon had weighed the risks carefully, and losing her son was not something she was willing to risk to preserve one of her late husband’s most prized artifacts. Between the Eye and their son, the choice was easy. Revenge against this invader would not result in a pleasant outcome for anyone, and for this reason alone was Valentyn allowed to leave unimpeded. Abaddon’s emotions were locked behind a steely visage, revealing none of her inward thoughts. She took her child gently and, seeing that he was safe, returned her gaze to the intruder.

“Leave us. I don’t care how you do. But go, or you will die here.” Her saber was once more in her hand, though it remained holstered to her waist and unignited. She began to step back, gathering her strength within her should Valentyn attempt to do any more harm than he had already done.

It only took a split second glance into her eyes to realize that she was holding back every ounce of her fury for the sake of her son. A second longer in those eyes revealed something else entirely. There was a mania that rested inside her, one of lost knowledge and lessons of madness. She had seen inside the Eye. She had perused its contents before.
This woman held the knowledge he seeked, and if he was forbidden from opening the device, then she was the key to the best path. One where he gained the power he sought, and where Lord Xarxes does not become an enemy. At least, not for a while yet.
She would not give that information willingly. But he could take it. He just needed her to be in a more… agreeable state.
He placed the sphere in his bag, and retrieved something else. A still-beating, rune-engraved heart, dripping with blood. “For the damage to your home, and for the stress I’ve caused, I offer you an artifact in trade,” he said.

The woman was astonished. How could this stranger, this impudent whelp, who had resorted to the lowest trickery to obtain what he came for, now offer a gruesome organ as recompense? She stepped forward slightly, venom still displayed in her image. “How could you possibly expect that thing to pay for the wrongs you’ve done to us? Leave. Now!”

“Oh,”
he said, “you don’t know what it is? I’m surprised.” The apprentice focused the Force in his free hand, fighting against his baser instincts as he worked to telekinetically pull apart his own flesh. “When drenched with the blood of an enemy, this runed heart acts as a gate. A way to speak to the dead. Is there truly no one you would wish to talk to one last time?” The palm of his organic hand began to tear, blood starting to rise to the surface.

Abaddon’s whole mindset began to shift. The silver tongue of Valentyn was having its way with her. Could he be telling the truth? Would she be able to see Kain again? The possibility sounded too good to be real, but her love…her need to speak to her husband again was too great. Tentatively, silently, she reached out her hand for the throbbing organ…

Valentyn placed the heart in her grasp, dripping the blood that now spilled from his hand onto it. The blood of the runed heart mingled with the blood of the psychotic Kage. His maw turned into a savage grin. “There you go,” was all he needed to say.



The room’s atmosphere turned black, streaks of red and white arcing from the heart within Abaddon’s grasp, racing to the floor surrounding her. As Valentyn stepped back, the streaks formed runes of esoteric origin, a ritual used to capture and cage. They flashed and blurred erratically as the crimson cords bound Abaddon in place. She attempted to let out a groan of anguish, but her mouth was gagged by one of the many tendrils. Unable to do anything but watch, Abaddon stared at Valentyn, her baby still clutched in her arms, unharmed by the crimson chains.

The Quarzitian Psycho outstretched his bleeding hand, aimed at her panicked, fluttering eyes. “You have seen into it,” he snarled. “You have perused its contents. My master forbade me from opening it myself, but your mind has everything I need.” He pressed on his powers of domination and control, attempting to rip the knowledge from within her skull. “Give it to me.”

The emerald eye erupted in his mind as Abaddon’s undefended mind was laid bare for him to behold. Unlike his Master, and Abaddon too, who had to pass through the Gatekeeper of the Eye, Typhojem’s guard did not stand in Valentyn’s way. The great eye gazed upon him, its vertical pupil of pure inky blackness was desolate, uncaring, menacing. The peridot flames which stretched forth from it seemed to lick at his psyche, and as they touched the Apprentice would feel himself grow stronger, less fearful…more confident and powerful than he ever had been…

The fire surged into his body in this imaginary planescape, the Eye slowly dissolving as its flames were consumed in the mental vision, until nothing was left but blackness and…cold.

The all-consuming cold which only the pits of Arkania had yet yielded upon Valentyn. He coild feel himself losing sense in his fingers, outstretched towards the shackled Abaddon he could not see. From this icyness, frost began to creep from his feet, crawling skywards in odd patterns, forming shapes which towered over him. An eldritch tome manifested from the ice, one which bore the symbols of cults long past and knowledge undisclosed to any living being. Valentyn felt his blood run cold, and in that moment, he felt as a corpse would.

From the pages of the book erupted three hoarfrost-covered crones, towering creatures of ugliness and vile wickedness, poring over the book, weaving a cerulean thread through its pages. The thread trailed off far, far into the distance, and gazing at its end, Valentyn beheld a young girl with raven hair, slightly tanned skin, and a look of absolutely sorrow upon her face. The thread surrounded her, but did not end there. As his vision carried him further, his mental body turned, following the thread. It wound around Abaddon as the crimson cords did presently, but did not find purchase in her. Instead, Valentyn watched with freezing dread as the sapphire thread wrapped its way around his waist, a needle piercing through his heart. His body felt stiff as a cadaver as he looked up, beholding the three Crones once more. They cackled as their threadwork became faster and more frantic. The thread’s length began to shorten as more and more of it was pulled into the pages of the book but the Crones, until Valentyn found himself being tugged up, up towards a doom which, for the first time in a long time, he feared.

He tried to move, to cry out in anguish and terror, but the icy magicks which paralyzed his mentaslity were unrelenting, and he remained silenced. In a flash, as the Crones’s needlework reached its perigee, Valentyn was pulled into the enormous pages of the arctic tome, which shut itself upon him, sealing him off from all light.


* * *

He could not tell the nature of his prison when light returned to him.

“Where am I?” he called out into the darkness. “What’s happening to me?” It was not the voice of a man demanding to know his place in the universe, as his voice had been moments before Abaddon took that damnable heart. This was the voice of a child, a scared little boy realizing how horribly wrong this had all gone. He whimpered as the unfamiliar spectacle surrounded him, enveloped him, becoming more and more real with each passing moment. This was no dream, no horrible vision of nightmarish hell or everlasting damnation. This was real. As real as the flesh on his bones, as real as the hatred that fueled the blood running through his veins.
And that terrified him.

ezgif-3-677a68b38f.pngThe vision of Abaddon came over him, the Crones hunching over her as their threads continued to weave, until one, trailing off much further than others, revealed its attachment in a radiant figure of pure white, piercing the darkness. But as it approached, for it was sewn with the thread, Valentyn saw that it was not light, but ice which emanated from the figure. Its pure chill radiated off of it, and every step it took as the Crones wove it to Abaddon left a trail of icicles, falling down, down, down into the inky abyss below.
It vanished, suddenly, as Valentyn’s vision began to shake. What was happening? Had that been real? A hallucination?

He was outside now. A cool wind brushed against his cheeks, feeling as if that cold figure was caressing him in the most sinister of ways. Had he anything in his stomach, he would have been vomiting right now. But he was empty. A void of everything. He barely felt alive. The only sign he even was, was the pain that wracked his body. Everything was spinning. He hadn’t even realized that there was a ship ahead of him.
It was a small craft, though Valentyn knew not the model. It’s not like he would be able to tell what it was even if he was an expert, not in this state. But he was conscious enough to realize that this was no place to linger. He stumbled forward, leaning against the cold durasteel.
Failure…
His eyes darted around him. He was alone.
This is what you deserve.
“Leave me alone!” he screamed out into the jungle beyond the landing pad.
We can never leave you now. This is what you wanted.

As Valentyn jumped into the vessel, firing the engines, he could not tell whether this effect was killing him, or whether it was a hallucination he could not avoid. Was it even an illusion? Thoughts swirled in his head, accompanied by the wicked howls of the creatures plaguing his psyche.
Taking off, he briefly questioned himself. Could he return to his master? What would Xarxes do? The weight of the Eye seemed to increase in satchel at his side. Was this the right move?
The console holocommunicator seemed eerie to look upon in that moment.

As the ship made its way out of the atmosphere, past the security station that seemed to pay this vessel no mind, Valentyn fumbled over the controls to prepare the calculations for hyperspace. His senses seemed to be returning, slowly, but the voices were not going away. He knew they weren’t real. He knew it was an illusion, some foul game being played on his psyche. That didn’t make it any easier. That didn’t stop the queasiness or the headaches or the chest pains or the--
The calculations were set, thanks in large part to the computers of this vessel already doing most of the work for him. The lever was sent forward, though Val didn’t remember doing it. A lurch was the only warning before the ship was slingshotted forward, catapulting him through the cerulean vortex of hyperspace once again. He would call his master when the ship reached the Perave system. Until then, he would do naught but rest. And though the voices would not quiet themselves, perhaps he could ignore them if he were unconscious.


* * *

The Perave System, the vicinity of Arkania

Theme: Ninja Tracks - Darkness Awaits

He was wrong. His dreams were unending nightmares of his past. No, not his past. Their pasts. Every sour memory, every insult, every sad day, every bad day. He could not escape them, no matter how hard he tried. They were a part of him, now and forever.
This is what you wanted…
With the ship finally arriving in the outer reaches of the Perave System, only minutes away from breaking Arkania’s atmosphere, Valentyn activated his comm system. Lord Xarxes would be on the other side any moment, no doubt awaiting news of his apprentice’s success. If you could call it that.

The cerulean figure of the hooded Ar’Adas shimmered into existence, the hidden eyes gazing into his Apprentice’s being. More so now than ever, the figure evoked a sense of terror, a terror which could become all the more real if Valentyn did not speak correctly.
“Apprentice,” he spoke gutterally, “I was beginning to wonder if you’d ever contact me. Are you at all injured?” Though low and imposing, his voice carried a note of concern, if not for the Apprentice then for the relic he carried.

“I will survive,” said Valentyn. He was not quite so sure he would, amidst so many souls lost in his fragile mind. “I have it. No one was killed for it.”

The Dark Lord’s invisible expression did not change. The only indication Valentyn had of his mood was a long, deep sigh, the shoulders of the cloaked figure dropping slightly. “Good. Well done, my Apprentice. Approach Veeshas Tuwan with haste. We must treat your wounds before we proceed.” There was genuine concern, even pride, in Xarxes’s voice, and yet there was a twinge of something else. Skepticism, perhaps? Or caution. Regardless, Valentyn would not have the opportunity to inquire further as his master’s form vanished as the communication fizzled out.


* * *

The apprentice’s journey from Arkania’s orbit to its surface was little more than a blur, a dream. Or more accurately, a nightmare. The hangar seemed much smaller than he remembered, perhaps because the ship he had stolen was a bit larger than the Ionizer. Right, the Ionizer. His ship. He had lost it. He’d forgotten.
Failure.

Worthless.
Liar.
“Quiet!” he shouted, smacking the side of his head. They did not obey. They laughed.
He made his way off the ship, making careful steps down the boarding ramp to avoid tumbling over. His stomach felt like it’d crept into his throat, acid and bile just eager to leap out of his mouth. What was happening?
The bitter winds did not show the Apprentice mercy either, buffetting him roughly as he approached the ruins of the once-great library, seeking the mosaic circle once again. The voices did not relent as his surroundings suddenly changed, finding himself once more in the green-lit sanctum of his Master.
There was, at first, no sign of the region’s lord. In fact, the place he stood in now had been remodeled in the last couple days. It now stood mostly empty, save for the lines of vaults lining the walls, occasionally jostling as the poor souls within them struggled in their bonds. The only other object of note was the smoky crystal sphere, which sat on its pedestal some ways away from Valentyn. It was, however, surrounded by a grate, supposedly to protect it from interference.
“Ah, you’ve arrived.”
Valentyn whipped around to see the looming figure of Darth Eschaton, his blackened teeth leering at the Apprentice from behind cracked and bloodied lips. His eyes, hidden by the headrest, were most certainly glowering at him.
“Our Master has requested that I dress your wounds. Are there any serious injuries which must be healed?”

“None physical, no,” he said. Wait, had he said it? Did he say that aloud? Or was that just one of the voices imitating him. He repeated himself aloud, just in case he’d been tricked. There was no fooling Valentyn, no! He was the master of his mind. No one else!

The towering Muun cocked his head, perplexed by the manner of response. “Impressive. Encountering Lady Abaddon and surviving is not one many can say, especially not one of your meagre skill. Lord Drakul Xarxes must have been confident you would succeed to send you on such a mission.”
There was a hint of ire in the Muun’s tone. Perhaps of jealousy, even. “No matter. If there are no injuries to attend you, it is time you bring the fruits of your labor to our Master. Follow me.”
The Muun turned, treading deeper into the darkness beyond the many sarcophogi lining the walls.

He despises you.
I know Eschaton hates me, thought Val.
Not him. Xarxes.
They all hate you.
We all hate you.

Quiet! Valentyn demanded in silence. He followed the Muun, trailing behind him. Thoughts cascades through his crowded mind, fantasies of driving an axe into the back of the Darth’s head. The apprentice smiled. Some part of him still remained. But it was drowning. He was drowning. Eschaton wouldn’t be able to help him, to save him. Perhaps Lord Xarxes could.

Would he though?
The dreadful thought rang through Valentyn’s mind as the Muun led him into a dark room, lit only by red flaming lanterns. The floor was all stone tile, and each step of the Apprentice’s boots echoed through the cavernous space. The Apprentice realized, looking at where the lights of the lanterns ended, that it was, in fact, a cavern. The space must have been connected in some way to the underside of Veeshas Tuwan, perhaps connected to the library in another way.
Letting his senses carry him, he could feel the presence of another being. A deep, heavy breathing of a creature far larger than a humanoid, and a rustling of chains.
Eschaton bowed to the blackness, and from it emerged the fully-armored figure of the Ar’Adas, his sword at his side. Only his face remained uncovered, the mask held in his empty hand.
“My Lord,” the Muunic Sith announced with grandeur, “your Apprentice has returned from his journey.
Xarxes stepped forward, gesturing to Eschaton to step away as he came forward. He stopped before Valentyn, a rare, pleased smile on his face. “You have done extraordinarily well, my Apprentice, and you are here in one piece. Most impressive. You even managed to get away from Abaddon, and without killing her. I am impressed.”
Despite whatever doubts Valentyn may have had, he got the impression that his Master was speaking in earnest.
“Do you have anything exceptional to report on the task?” the Dark Lord posed.

Valentyn fell to a knee. Not out of respect for his Lord, but because a sudden pain shot through his skull like a lightning bolt. His skull felt like it was going to explode, like his eyeballs were going to fall out of their sockets.
“I…” Could he tell his master the truth? Could he afford to lie now, when a lie could very well guarantee his demise? Or would the truth do the same? “I drained knowledge from her mind.” His voice was little more than a whisper, though no doubt loud enough for the All-Seeing Eye to hear. “She was powerful. I wanted what she had. I didn’t know that she was not alone in that mind of hers.”
The Dark Lord frowned, the pale flesh stretched across his skull creasing as he pondered this revelation. Conversations he had with Kain months prior now resurfaced. That was why Kain’s speech had been so veiled, and why he had been so secretive about Abaddon’s condition. There was only one solution now, if the consequences were as Xarxes was predicting.
He raised his empty hand, Valentyn’s body being thrust upward and against the cavern wall, his body awash with light from the flames. He replaced his mask, his voice taking on a depth his Apprentice was now accustomed to. “You must be cleansed, then. Do not resist, or it will be more painful for all of you.”


FinalTrialXarxes.png

Valentyn did not resist, despite the pain, despite every urge to. But they certainly did.
He cried out as invisible claws raked through his brain, cutting through the grooves and turning them into rivers of blood. His eyes began to turn a shade of bright crimson, blood flowing from his tear ducts. It was killing him. He was dying.
He’s killing us!
The apprentice’s hand shot forth, strung along by an invisible marionette. A scarlet fog began to seep out of the palm of his hand, pouring forth and spreading like a cloud of malevolent smoke. All it touched it corrupted. Cracking and peeling stone, staining the very air with the stench of blood and rot. It flowed toward Xarxes, and an otherworldly laugh echoed throughout the chamber. Not through Valentyn’s tightly-shut maw, but through his every orifice.
The indomitable Lord released his hold on Valentyn, focusing his telekinetic powers on buffetting away the toxic fog. A blast of Force shot from his palm, moulding the smog before him to clear a circle of safety. He drew his sword from its place, the frigid blade shining immaculately in the red glow of the room. His Mqaaq’it cut through the rot, finding the mobile body of his Apprentice once more. Reaching out with his telekinetic grip, he flung the body through the air, arcing it over him to an area untouched as of yet by the rot, which he now moved swiftly toward.
Valentyn fought against himself, pulling his arms to his sides and clicking his heels together. His muscles began to tear at the opposing forces, and though he fought with all his might, the monster inside was as clever as it was cruel. The rot began to seep out of his pores, spilling forth all around him, a shell of mocking miasma.
Xarxes would have preferred to not step into the mist, knowing that the lightest consequence would be to need a serious repair to his armor, and the worst case would be a badly burned set of lungs, given the sealed environment of the suit. Rushing forward despite the mist, he concentrated deeply, pulling all of his strength to this feat. As he drew towards the mist, entering it, it passed by, never once touching him as the Aura of Freedom around him shifted it constantly, never letting it come into contact with him.
The bull rush of the Dark Lord resulted in his shoulder connecting with the Apprentice, sending him flying back, rot still spilling out of him, but Xarxes held his own, his Aura not fading as he took stance once more.

“If you’re going to try to kill me, do it with some class,” he barked at the demons puppetting Valentyn.
The mutant challenges us.
Val’s body shot upward, planting him back on his feet in an awkward, unnatural state. Crimson lightning cracked from the apprentice’s self-restrained hands, palms opening as the bolts shot not for Xarxes or that impenitrible armor of his. In fact, the lightning never even came close to him. The bolts zoomed past, further into the cave, twisting and turning with accuracy that no normal mind could replicate. Within a second, the bolts struck something further in. Something large. Metallic.
Chains are broken…
Xarxes scowled. Saalohkonir! The roar of the creature shook the cavern. There was no telling what else the demons were plotting, but if all went well, nothing bad would happen involving the Arkanian Dragon. They were, after all, semi-sentient beings, and Saalohkonir was loyal. At least, that’s how he normally would be.
There was one solution he could think of now, if he could only get into position. His organic eye zeroed in on its target, and a searing burst sundered Valentyn’s satchel from his shoulder, causing it to fall. He could hear the thunk of the Eye of Typhogem as the satchel hit the ground. Charging forward once again, he sought to, at the very least, disable the body of his Apprentice.
Pulled by an unseen force, Valentyn was shot upward like a blaster bolt, smacking into the ceiling of this cavern. He groaned, and a laugh escaped past his open lips. The invisible hand ground him against the rock, pulling him along it at breakneck speed. His flesh tore and pulled at the cold stone, breaking open as he was pulled towards the direction of the dragon, towards destruction.
The will of Xarxes mustered the Force to him, and he once more outstretched his hand, fighting against the puppeteers. He dropped his sword, summoning the Eye to him. Unlike Valentyn, he had gripped the cursed item before, and had conquered its Gatekeeper. He worked without fear, with utter determination, pulling his Apprentice toward him once more.
A cry shot out from Valentyn. One of pain. Of misery. This was not the voice of some malevolent creature pleading control. This was the voice of his apprentice. And the pull in two directions, one against the ceiling and the other way, was beginning to tear Valentyn apart. His bones began to crack and contort. If Xarxes continued to apply this amount of pressure, he would succeed in his battle of wills, no doubt. But his apprentice would lose his life.
Realizing what was happening, the Dark Lord relinquished his hold, but not his battle. He knew precisely where Saalohkonir was, and in that instant, he vanished from his current place, using the seldom-used power of Teleport to arrive at his Apprentice’s destination, prepared for the choice he would have to make now, and the extraneous effort it would cost him. He stood without a sword, only the Eye…and the Force.
The demons laughed as they ground the apprentice into meat, pulling him along until he was in sight of the dragon, and now the Dark Lord. Beasts of its make were powerful and intelligent. No doubt that this creature had been a boon for Lord Xarxes in all of his battles. But that would end today, if the demons had their way.
They extended invisible claws to the dragon’s skull, hoping to burrow into its mind and make roost. A new pet, a new home, a new monster.
Indeed not. For in that moment, the Dark Lord reached out, harnessing the power of the Eye to probe into the mind of his Apprentice. While they were preoccupied attempting their takeover, he would defy them, and they would come to fear him should his will prevail.
“Release him, foul ones!” His voice resounded through the cavern. Despite the confidence with which he spoke, the mind of his Apprentice was not easy to burrow into, even with a choir of demons it.
Intruder.
A new voice!
Valentyn’s mind recoiled as Xarxes, further empowered by the Eye, broke through the rusted barriers of his thoughts. The demons had been so preoccupied in their attempt to overcome the dragon that they had not thought to shield the claws still attached to Valentyn. The Lord of Arkania eradicated every block the apprentice had in place, and in moments, the young Kage’s mind was open entirely to him. The demons still lingered in the shadows, hissing insults and demanding Xarxes’ eviction. But he had a foothold. He would not be made to leave unless he wished it.


* * *

The Mind of Valentyn
Theme: The Temple of Lilvani - The Witcher III, Hearts of Stone

FinalTrialXarxes3.jpg

Xarxes’s mental projection stood amidst a crowlike murder of howling spirits, their voices taunting him, yet unable to hold back their hatred for his presence, his invasion.
This mind belongs to usssss!
Leave! Let him suffer for his sin of greed!

“You are not the arbiters of judgment.” The Dark Lord’s voice was but a whisper, yet it echoed loudly in this mental plane. “Now, you face me. I, Order.”
He reached out with telekinetic force, gripping a bundle of the spirits flocking about him, pulling them forward only to be battered by the fist clenching the Eye. Where each was powdered, another rose to take its place. Brute force would not work here.
Outside, Xarxes furrowed his brow, concentrating deeply on his Apprentice’s mind, seeking any vestige of him that remained tethered to himself.
“Wake up, Valentyn.”
Another voice echoed beyond the swarm of spirits. One far less hateful. One far more familiar.
“M-master…”
No, quiet!
Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!
“Where are you?”

He was close.
Xarxes raised his hand, the power of the storm surging through him as tendrils of brilliant white lighting sprung forth, each finding purchase in the form of the demons swarming about. Perhaps this would not end them, but it would most certainly clear the path ahead. The power of the Eye strengthened him further. If the will of the All-Seeing were extraordinary before, even the demons of Chaos would tremble and cow before it now.
He marched forward. Slowly, deliberately, making his way towards the source of the voice. Where he tread, the spirits scattered, surging behind him, but not approaching. He would pummel one as it tried to approach, scattering the form of its face across the mental hellscape, paying it no mind as he walked towards his goal.
Past the wall of wailing spirits, lingering in the darkness, was a spotlight. And at the center of its light rested two figures. One was Valentyn, no doubt, resembling the young Kage in his usual state. He was kneeling on the floor, whatever the floor was.
The other being was something else entirely. It sat atop three, shelled legs like some strange crab, with the torso of a man. Its arms were long and thin, with claws adorning its gnarled fingers. Its head began as a man’s at its jaw, then became something terrifying the further you looked up. It looked like its head was one, long tentacle, or a single, veiny lekku that stretched high above the rest of it. And this creature, this horror… it was grinning.
“The mortal mind is a fragile thing,” it said.
As Xarxes cut through the swathes of demons, he came to face the hideous creature. Its twisted face was contorted in an evil rictus, a perpetual smile of maniacal glee. The All-Seeing, however, was not afraid. He had gazed upon far more unspeakable horrors than even this, gazing upon the secrets within Typhojem’s very Eye. Raising a hand, he removed the faceplate from his helm, revealing his steely gaze to the demon.
“You seek to take that which is mine: the life of my Apprentice. Surrender now and your death will be merciful.”
“I am not the demon that has hold of his mind,”
said the creature. “I am that which gave him back the life he so carelessly lost on my world.” One of its hands patted the young Valentyn on the shoulder. He didn’t budge. “This demon is a younger thing, and it’s made use of the knowledge that Valentyn stole. Every man, woman, and child he’s murdered, every single one that he stole their thoughts from… the demon has given them voices. They are simply puppets to the demon’s whims, and they have no power outside of this place. No, it is the demon that attacks him—and you—in the material plane. Heed not the spirits you see flying about. They are mere phantasms.”
The pieces fell into place quickly for the All-Seeing, recognizing at once the place of origin: Rhelg. “So, you are the one that helped my Apprentice infiltrate Rhelg to find the map to the Eye, hm? It appears there is still much to teach him about talking to strangers.” The sarcastic comment was unusual for Xarxes, but given the immense service Valentyn had carried out for him, in conjunction with the heretical appearance of the aberration and his fearlessness before it, he felt no qualms about showing how unseriously he took the eldritch horror.
“The demons are a non-issue. You, on the other hand, are a trespasser here, and I do not tolerate those who interfere or tamper with my property… or my wards. In time, you will be dealt with. For now, I will liberate my Apprentice from these haunting figures, and allow him free reign of his facilities again. Kindly permit me this uninterrupted extermination, and I shall grant you ample time to face us in a more gratifying way for all of us.” His tone was not a bargaining one, but of one who had the upper hand. His impregnable mind and steely exterior would prevent intolerable probings to his true feelings, which were ones of ire and annoyance at the presence of the abomination.
The creature’s smile did not fade. In fact, it seemed even more amused now than it had been before. Perhaps it viewed Xarxes as insignificant, another child in a long list of children that would crumble to dust before the entity would even think to blink. Or perhaps this was the most entertainment it had in centuries.
“Feel free to cleanse your poor apprentice of his true trespassers all you want. I will remain regardless, keeping that heart of his beating while you free his mind.”
A reluctant allegiance was an allegiance yet, and Xarxes knew the creature could wait. Beneath its gleeful demeanor, the Nightfather sensed no deception. Beings that could generally annihilate all others were, after all, above such measures. With a curt nod, Xarxes shifted his focus back to the cyclone of wailing spirits. His mental projection stretched out his arms, calling to him the power of the storm. The mental onslaught he unleashed would be devastating, but with the horror protecting his Apprentice, he knew no harm would come to him.
The skies above the mindscape began to dim with inky blackness, the writhing masses of spirits, howling obscenities and taunts his way, began to cower in fear as silver lightning arced through the sky, illuminating the mindscape as each bolt struck home. The mental battle was overwhelming the spirits, too confused and shocked by Xarxes’s domineering actions.
ezgif-3-7950c99bd2.pngWith the demon’s attention elsewhere, Xarxes was practically unimpeded as he quelled the voices in Valentyn’s head, dominating him with his sheer might. The swarm slowed to a snail’s pace, nearly freezing in place entirely. Their anger and fury, which had been empowered by the demon’s will, had been stamped out. Like peasants failing a rebellion, they began to whimper. To beg and plead for mercy from their Lord.
Xarxes realized now the nature of these phantasms, for he himself had encountered them before in the form of his mother, which had lingered past her death. Though the nature of that spirit was far stronger, the principle remained much the same. Some of these were the voices of innocents, ones that Valentyn had drained purely to gain power for himself.
Such torment was the price of greed. Such was the reason Xarxes only took what was needed, and only from those who were deserving. This was yet another lesson his apprentice needed to learn. No matter for now. In the meantime, the howls of the spirits were fading in his ears. Not because they were diminishing in numbers, but because he was sensing the presence of something more powerful. Not like the aberration, but infernal in nature. A creature of Chaos.
Xarxes saw it now, at the epicenter of the spirit vortex, a horrifying being of abstract proportions and shapes. It appeared as many of the abstract spirits Xarxes had heard of but never seen, something akin to the amalgamation of the fundamental geometric figures, and yet it was all wrong. It’s crimson form was, indeed, a nightmare, and while unrecogniazable as a being, Xarxes could sense the faintest hints of who it had touched. Valentyn, and another. Abaddon.
Reaching towards it, the astral Xarxes tightened its grip around the Eye, drawing its power to sense through the creature its intentions…
Saalohkonir!
Indeed, it had set its sights on the dragon, only metres away from Xarxes’s real body. Its hold was growing, and if it did, Xarxes had no intention of killing his beloved pet. No, there was another way to defeat a demon.
Xarxes dug deeper into his Apprentice’s mind, simultaneously reaching into the demon. There was something else here, something that Valentyn and Abaddon had both seen that concerned the demon. He need to find it. He needed to find it now!
The mindscape shifted. The spirits were gone, as was the demonic shape. An eldritch tome appeared before the Dark Lord, one which bore the symbols of cults long past and knowledge undisclosed. From the pages of the book three women appeared, all craven and all menacing; towering creatures of ugliness and vile wickedness, poring over the book, weaving a cerulean thread through its pages. The screech of the demon echoed through the room, as did the laughter of the crones. They were trapping it, he would realize, sealing it within the book so it could be used as a weapon when needed. And it had been a weapon they needed when Darth Kain fell into their grasp.
If something such as this had presented a challenge to Kain, Xarxes realized, then the challenge ahead of him would be even greater. He, unlike Kain, did not possess the power to end worlds on a whim, but he did bear great mental strength, more suited to the combat of the mind. And if the demon could be trapped before, it could be once again. He did not have such a tome, nor the enchanted thread the Crones were using. What he did have was a relic more powerful than that which they bore. He had the Eye of Typhojem, possessed of a Gatekeeper even demons would tremble before.
He knew what he had to do, if he wanted to keep Valentyn safe. The voices of the slain were quelled for now, and his Apprentice could be trained to suppress, as once he had suppressed his mother. Without another thought, he released his hold on the Apprentice’s mind, returning his vision to reality.


Arkania, Veeshas Tuwan

The roar of Saalohkonir was all that filled his ears the moment he returned to the physical world. His dragon, massive and fearsome, was beginning to thrash about against the invisible foe as it began to take more and more of its mind. Fear made the beast act so rashly, its tail whipping about and destroying anything in its path. The cave would soon begin to crumble if such damage continued, and the low quake in the very earth seemed to support this assumption.
His dragon was still his, but not for much longer. Not without his intervention.
The mind of a semi-sentient creature was difficult to master. They had to be worked differently than something either wholly stupid or wholly sentient. They could listen to reason in some cases, but not all. Saalohkonir was in a different field. The mind Xarxes had probed before was strong, if not like a humanoid’s, but it fought the demon with the ferocity only a sentient being could muster. He willed himself to not be overcome, but a demon is not so easily resisted.
Xarxes still bore the Eye in his hand. Behind him, he could sense the body of Valentyn, safely on the ground, slump over, twitching slightly. He would be fine for now.
A gauntleted hand shot towards the thrashing beast, contending with the demon for its mind. He probed deeply, finding his foothold in the mind of his pet. He could feel the demon’s presence, its wild battle against him for the fate of all three creatures present. He would not let it win.
In his hand, the Eye began to glow a sickly green, not so dissimilar to that found in the magicks of the cults of Dathomir. His voice echoed through not only the cave, but through the mind of the dragon, a vengeful order to the demon plaguing them all.
“Begone, vile one, before my mercy reaches its end!”
Whatever capacity the demon had to retort with words had seemed to not make it in the transfer from Abaddon’s mind to Valentyn’s. Perhaps it lost the ability to speak when it was fused with Kain’s widow, its mind reduced to little more than a cruel parasite. All that Xarxes could perceive would be the clearest of intentions in its presence. It would not begone without a fight, no more than one could convince a scorpion not to sting. This was its nature. This was its way.
The demon continued its gambit for the dragon’s mind, its will combatting that of the All-Seeing one. As expected, its will was strong, stronger than most any Xarxes had ever been pitted against. For a moment the strength threw him off, his steely exterior shifting to one of surprise. But the moment was fleeting, and he continued his fight, recalling to himself the motions of the Crones.
His extended his other hand, the Eye now hovering before him. With some remnant of his will holding the door to Saalohkonir’s mind, and the presence of the demon within, he touched his fingertips the the holocron, willing intently on what was to follow.
His previous victory over the Gatekeeper proved useful, as a green flaming thread emerged from the glass, clenched between his fingertips. The Dark Lord smiled, then laughed, his guffaw echoing through the mind of the dragon.
The animalistic nature of this demon had not obscured the emotion that Xarxes now sensed pouring out of every intangible fiber of its being: fear. It recognized those motions, those intentions. Stuck between Valentyn and Saalohkonir, the demon was vulnerable. It realized that now. The creature, once the feared and predatory Envilyn, wailed in horror as history began to repeat itself..
The interaction with the Eye, the threading of the emerald cord through the air, began to pain Xarxes too. Though he was strong, he had spent much energy in this battle, and the Eye’s Gatekeeper could sense it. The voice of the dweller resounded in his mind as the thread continued to weave.
I could take you now.

I could chain your spirit here too.
You could be made mad, just like your Apprentice, like your mother…

You could succumb to me…!
Drakul grit his teeth and tasted blood. He fought the bile building in his throat, forcing it back down as he croaked a response.
FinalTrialXarxes2.png“But you won’t. You have a greater prize being offered you.”
The Gatekeeper let out a grunt of agreement. One day, Xarxes. You wanted the Eye, and now it is yours. Go, shower me with this gift, but know that I will be waiting for you.
That was enough for the Dread Lord. The demon’s wails became louder as an ethereal crimson began pouring out of the dragon’s maw and eyes, the body going still, exhausted by the effort against its invader. The eye burst into brilliant emerald flames, licking at the working hands of the weaver, heating his gloves to glowing white. Xarxes howled in agony as he felt the flesh of his hands fuse to the gauntlets of his armor, being pulled away with every creak of his metallic joints. He could feel the blood boiling beneath the metal, watched as it spilt from the joints in the armor, fizzling as it hit the cold ground below. But he did not cease his motions, despite the anguish it cost him.
Every ounce of pain he felt was felt tenfold by the demon, its howls of agony filling the entire cavern and echoing across all of Arkania. Perhaps some would think it a foul wind, some strange sound to be dismissed and never thought about again. But for Xarxes, and even the unconscious Valentyn, the mournful wail of a devil’s cry would be etched in their minds forevermore.
Glimmers of its true, twisted shaped glitched into and out of existence as it was forced into the Eye, once more a prisoner of a being more clever than it could manage. Typhojem’s Gatekeeper’s laugh resounded as loudly as the demon’s screeching, tolling through Xarxes’s skull like that of a funeral bell. Images of terror filled his vision in the moments before the the last of the demon’s essence was drawn in, the cost of this service. In an instant, the flames faded, the Eye flashed a stark crimson, and then faded, falling into the Nightfather’s palm.
He sank to his knees, exhausted. His head weakly turned, taking in both his unconscious Apprentice and the sleeping dragon, before his vision started to fade. The last thing he saw was a figure in black approaching, its long gait hobbling quickly towards him.
“My Lord!”
And then all was dark.


Arkania, Castle Adasca

Amaunator Adasca woke, groaning. His vision slowly adjusted to the dim light of the rising sun cascading through the curtained windows. It was morning, and early at that. The sun rarely shown this brightly on Arkania, but the weather was pleasant today, and there was no sign of a storm outside.
He raised a hand to his temple to nurse his throbbing headache, recoiling as he felt the roughness of his flesh. He looked down, eyes narrowing to get a good look. His hands were blackened, scarred, much of its flesh torn off. He hadn’t yet healed from the heat of the Eye’s flames.
He heard a humming, the soft sound of a woman approaching the door to his chambers. A hum he recognized immediately. As the porcelain figure entered, her humming ceased, replaced by a gasp of mixed surprise and relief.
“Beloved…!”
Amaunator smiled softly, wincing at the effort. “Yes, my darling. I’m awake.”


* * *

Xarxes strode through the halls of his citadel, wearing a casual robe of crimson and gold. The only notable difference to his normal casual attire was the addition of burgundy silk gloves, masking the presence of his notable injuries. Beside him walked his wife, the immaculate Alcina Adasca, wearing a light-fitting toga fastened at the waist with a golden girdle. Her raven hair cascaded freely past her shoulders, something the snow-skinned woman would not have often done, had she not been seeing her husband for the first time since before he’d sent Valentyn to fetch the Eye.
“How is he?”
“He is recovering well, though he has only woken up twice in the last three days, and only for a few minutes each time. Whatever he went through greatly fatigued him, as it did you.” Her voice was sweet, full of concern, as a matron caring for her patient.
It had been half a week since the events under Veeshas Tuwan. Most of it, Xarxes had spent sleeping, as had Valentyn, apparently. Indeed, as they walked into the guest ward, which had been furnished to act as a temporary infirmary, the Kage was still asleep, a soft expression on his face. Next to him on a dresser was a chest of dark wood, its contents known to all present.
“Magister Tassak was quick to transport you both here as soon as he found you. He said you’d encountered something the likes of which he’d never seen. Was that the source of the dark power I felt?”
The Arbiter of Arkania nodded. “Indeed. A creature from the depths of Chaos, its roar stretching across the whole system. But it’s gone now. It cannot reach us, and will never harm us again.”

Perhaps it had been that familiar deep, booming voice that had done it. Perhaps the Force had willed it happen now. Or perhaps it had simply been chance. But the eyes of Valentyn crept open. They had returned to their vibrant yellow-green, small pupils warily cast around the room. It was quiet, beyond the voice of his Master. No damned spirits wailing lamentation, no cursed demons spitting malice. There was a serenity to the silence, one that Valentyn had not realized he could miss. But he certainly did now.
“Master…” His voice was naught but a whisper, his throat hoarse and ravaged during the events of his possession. A small pain compared to that which he felt across the rest of his body. “I feel like I’ve been run through a cheese grater.”
Xarxes smiled. “You’ve been through worse than that, Valentyn, and you’ll be through much more.” He circled the bed, laying a hand across the surface of the locked chest. It burned to the touch, and he pulled it away hastily. Nursing his palm, he continued. “You’ve fought more in one day than most Sith fight their entire lives. You’ve much to be proud of.”
He nodded to Alcina. She bowed slightly, smiled to the two of them, and then exited, leaving the Master and Apprentice alone. The former’s face grew to steely seriousness, as was usual.
“Apprentice, there is much left to be done, for both of us. What I saw in your mind…you never made mention of it before. It is natural for an Apprentice to keep secrets from his Master. It has been common practice among Sith since the beginning. But some things are best to be talked about, and an encounter such as that is one of them.”
Valentyn’s gaze did not fall from his Master’s, as most who were caught in a lie would do. There was a coldness in Val that couldn’t be cured by quelling voices or expelling demons. Though perhaps it was that lack of empathy, of morals, that made him such a fearsome Sith.
“I died just trying to make it onto Rhelg,” he said. “Rebels had hijacked the ship I was on. They were going to ram it into Lord Sedicious’ palace. I stopped it, but I landed in the ocean during my fall. I drowned. Then I woke up on the beach with… it standing over me. It gave me an offer. If I retrieved a book from Sedicious’ vault on my way to get your map, it would let me live. Said it wanted to use the tome to help manipulate the people on Rhelg and retake the planet for its kind.”
Xarxes frowned first, then his expression softened. “I wish you had spoken of it sooner. I sensed something off when you first returned, and I blame only myself for not investigating further.” He began to pace around the room, index finger to his chin. “We must be vigilant, and tread carefully. I am not fond of this creature. I spoke to it while you were being tormented by the demon. This abomination has its own plans, and its own means, but part of it has stuck with you, and I sense its presence is far-reaching. That tome…did you give it to the creature?”
“That was the bargain,” he said. “Otherwise I wouldn’t have made it off the planet alive. Perhaps I didn’t, really.” Valentyn paused, remembering, pondering. “It said that if it left me, I would die, instantly. That it was a part of me, the part that kept me alive.” His eyes widened with a certain perverseness, perhaps even madness. “But if I hone my knowledge of the dark side, maybe I can find a way to survive without it. Immortality comes in many forms. Hell, I’ve seen glimpses of it in the demon’s memories, of the pages in that book those witches held. If I can find a way to survive without this entity, then we can destroy it. Together.”
“Are you certain this is a task you feel drawn to, Apprentice? I but glimpsed its power over you, and it was clearly stronger than the demon I captured. This will take time, effort, and secrecy. No one knows the Eye now rests with me, nor even less how the star map was taken. This tome…I will have Eshcaton and the Nightsisters look into it. There may be some ancient magicks that will be of use to us in this endeavor. But for now…”
Xarxes extended a hand, a blade appearing in it. This one, however, was not the arctic blue-white of the Sword of Order, but a bloodred crimson, like a lightsaber’s blade. It was an elegant weapon, its hilt crafted of fine obsidian metal, fitting perfectly in the burned grip of its master.
“If you have the strength, Apprentice, kneel.”
Were it not for the Force, perhaps he wouldn’t have had the strength. But that hadn’t mattered. Valentyn pushed himself off of the bed, sitting up and groggily reaching for his head to steady the sudden nausea. He shook it off quickly, falling to a knee on the floor. Every single part of his body felt like it was on fire. But he didn’t care. Not now.
His Master placed the flat end of the blade on his right shoulder, then on his left, before bringing the sword up in a salute. “For exemplary performance in the field of battle, besting an opponent well beyond your strength, and for overcoming insurmountable odds in the war for one’s own mind, I, Lord Drakul Xarxes, by the power invested in me by the will of the esteemed Empress Hesper, and with the full will of the New Sith Order, I do hereby dub thee Valentyn, Knight of Sith, Seeker of the Erudite.”
He set the tip of the sword on the ground, resting it there. “Now, rise, my Apprentice. It will soon be recognized by the whole of the Order that you have ascended the ranks. You should feel proud, as I am proud of you.”
Shakily, the apprentice-- no, the knight stood. The words of his master permeated through the walls he had placed, the barrier between morality and amorality, between empathy and apathy. I am proud of you. Words that he had never heard, he realized.
Perhaps Valentyn would not need to kill Xarxes after all. “Thank you, Master. I did not think it at the start of my training, but I had much to learn from you. It may have taken a Master like you to get through to… someone like me. I am honored to be part of your legacy.”
Xarxes sat on the side of the bed, laying the sword across his lap. Finger by finger, he gingerly pulled off the silken gloves, revealing the charred, blood flesh beneath. “I must apologize, Valentyn, for being what you must have thought me most of your apprenticeship. I treated you as an errand boy, someone I could form and use for my own ends. In many ways, I let my past wounds shape my actions. Seeing you tormented so, however, recalled my roots to me. I, too, was tormented by a spirit within me, one which I took into myself willingly. None…none should have to suffer that way. In many ways, you and I are alike, perhaps merely at different stages of our lives. I am a lot older than I appear.” He chuckled slightly, then grew solemn.
“Valentyn, when we set out to face this demon, I cannot promise you victory. What I can promise is that I will be there every step of the way, to the bitter end. I will not allow you to succumb to this alone, not when it was my orders that led it to happen in the first place.”
Knight Valentyn grinned. “To the bitter end.”


~Fin~

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