Traya had not felt such a feeling since her time as a Padawan. Fear. Moments ago she had escaped the vast labyrinth and found herself deep within the Citadel. Not even Sith Lords bore the authority to walk these hallowed halls. If found, she would be killed. But she had no intention of being discovered. Slipping into a trance Traya drove out her fear. Fear is dangerous, even to Sith. It distorts clarity, blinds vision, controls actions. And she would not allow the Force to control her. So she kept the fear at bay, using techniques she had been taught as a Jedi. To truly understand the Force, you must have the contrast, to truly master the Force, you cannot afford to adhere to a single idea.

Mindful of her own teachings she drove out the fear and continued to weave her way through the Citadel, towards the undeniable presence of the Emperor. Every step brought her closer to his presence, with every step she could feel his power grow stronger, the air grew colder, the smell of the dark side more pungent. Finally, she arrived in a sunken, circular chamber. Ahead of her a flight of obsidian stairs led to the Emperor’s throne room and either side identical flights led in unknown directions, into dimly lit corridors. The chamber was empty. Still veiled under her cloak of shadows Traya crept down into its centre. The Emperor’s presence was so close, she could almost touch it. But wait!

The sudden presence of a dozen presences filled her vision, as twelve elite Imperial Guardsmen, clad in the same red armour as their prison guard counterparts, but with distinctive, triangular shoulder plates, swarmed the chamber. It had been a trap. She was surrounded, three guardsmen behind her, three at her sides and three in front. They were all armed with jet-black bolt casters, aimed at her, save one. Standing above her and wielding an electrostaff was a pureblooded female, helmetless, revealing aggressive features, raven black hair and burning red eyes. Traya knew that face. It was the face Revan had described in the datacron.

“Reveal yourself assassin!” Captain Yarri barked. “Our Emperor has alerted us to your presence, and we have you surrounded.”

Traya silently cursed herself as she let her cloak fade. The illusion was designed to trick the eyes and the senses, even those with the Force. But the Emperor was far more powerful than any other she had ever encountered; she had been foolish to think she could deceive him. And now she was heavily outnumbered by the Emperor’s finest warriors. She had to stall.

“Only the Imperial Guard and the Emperor himself are allowed this deep into the Citadel.” Traya could hear the capital letters in the purebloods voice. “You will tell us why you are here and then we will kill you.”

“Hardly an incentive to talk.” Traya responded nonchalantly.

The first surges of dark side energy began to erupt within her.

“Silence! You will tell me why you are here, or I shall order my men to open fire!”

But Traya remained silent. Her bottled power growing exponentially.

“Answer me!” Yarri snapped, rapidly growing impatient.

“I was under the impression that you did not wish me to speak.” Traya replied in distinctively calmer tone. The energies threatened to bubble over.

Yarri growled. “Enough games! Men, open fire!”

Her energies were unleashed. Before they could release a single arc of plasma, a powerful Force wave swept them all of their feet, the guardsmen’s fragile bodies slammed against the chamber walls. Yarri let out a startled yelp as she was thrown to the floor.

Traya stalked towards the now unobstructed corridor that led to the throne room. Tentatively reaching out with the Force she sensed that Captain Yarri was still alive, she had only been knocked unconscious. Traya considered snuffing out the captain’s existence, but hesitated. A brief glimpse of the future told her this woman’s fate lay in the hands of another. She slipped past without another pause.

A pair of colossal, black doors towered before her. Sealed tightly shut. She raised a palm to them, and then, calling on the Force, exerted her will on their immense weight, willing them apart. The doors trembled, then shuddered ajar. And as they did so the dark side seemed to seep through like an invisible mist. With an exhausted gasp she broke off. Then, mastering her courage and dispelling all fear, walked into the throne room

Before her, in the vast shadowy chamber, was a cold, black walkway, stained with dim, reddish light and flanked with upturned metal claws. The air crackled malevolently as ribbons of electrical energy rippled between stalactites and stalagmites of metal, menacing contraptions. And there, at the far end of the chamber, seated on a serrated, mechanical throne, was the Emperor. His gloved hands clasped together and his pale, mummified face peering over them. Traya resisted the urge to shudder, to flee, as she stopped before the Emperor staring down at her from his raised dais. They say to look into the eyes of another is to peer inside their soul. Yet his eyes were two black holes, rimmed with the dying flames of a star, they were the eyes of one ravaged by emersion in the dark side for a thousand years. She could not bear to gaze at him any longer, and so she knelt, bowing her head.

“I –” she almost choked on her words. “I am your servant my Emperor, you have my allegiance and my power. My life, is yours.”

She repressed another shudder as the Emperor’s voice resounded across the chamber, echoing of eternal, dark side power. But instead of accusations and condemnations, she received a question.

“You possess great power. I have felt it from the moment you entered by sanctum. You are not of this world, you are not of this Empire. And yet you are here, before me. Why?”

For a moment Traya paused, considering her response. Ever strategy, every movement, had, unintentionally or not, culminated in this one moment.

“I have followed the path of Revan, my former Padawan. That path lead me to the dark side, led me to your Empire, and lead me to you. And now I offer you my power.”

“I have studied the dark side for millennia, what use do I have for your power.”

At that moment she raised her head and gazed up at his face and whispered. “Because my power is not of the dark side, nor the light. The Force, it speaks to me. And I listen. It shows me countless centuries into the future, or the next moment. And I can show you.”

“Then show me.” He demanded, rising to his feet and descending slowly from his throne. Only inches away from the kneeling old woman, he raised his arms, cloaked in heavy black robes, and placed taloned hands lightly on her temples. His touch was cold. Not like the icy cold of Hoth, or the searing cold of a lightsaber, but a cold like the vacuum of space. She fought the urge to recoil, let herself slip deep into the folds of the Force, centring herself in the dark energies of Dromund Kaas. She granted him his vision.

A vast fleet of fearsome warships above a barren, desert world. A lone Republic space station torn apart. A war-torn planet, once lush and fertile, now stained my innumerable obsidian legions and flaming wreckage. A vast temple, once a symbol of light in the darkness, reduced to smouldering rubble, the bodies of fallen Jedi scattered amongst shattered stone, the skies of a vast ecumenopolis ablaze with destruction...

The vision faded.

“Your legions will crush the Republic, and the Jedi shall fall.” Traya asserted.

“You have only confirmed what I already knew to be true,” the Emperor’s voice boomed “my inevitable ascension.”

“I can show you more.” Traya promised. “But I can only do so willingly, do not seek to make me your slave else you will find my visions lacking. We can work together, combined we can conquer the galaxy, master the Force and free ourselves from its shackles. Then we will have peace.”

“Yes. Together we shall be unstoppable, my apprentice.”

But then she had another vision.

A world ripped apart from the inside, sending destructive ripples in all directions. A civilisation consumed by Sith sorcery, cities left lifeless. A vast supernova engulfing a skyscraper-strewn landscape. And the deaths of countless innocents, screaming out through the Force, leaving echoes that never reached their destination. And at the centre of it all, was him.

“No!” Traya screamed as the vision ended. Fear, anger and hate surged over her. Letting go of all control she let them, let them control her, engulf her, and burst out in a savage display of raw emotion. A powerful Force scream sent the Emperor hurtling backwards. Traya turned and fled.

But she did not get far.

The Emperor quickly recovered from the blast and released a volley of deadly lightning towards her, the malevolent bolt struck her in the back as she raced across the walkway, she let out a sudden cry and collapsed to the floor. Unbearable pain wracked her body. She felt the Emperor’s cold presence approach.

“You could have been so much more.” And then all went dark.

Duuklaf was woken by a persistent jabbing in his ribs. Grunting and growling he flailed blindly, but his arms met air as Threecee quickly wheeled out of range, beeping and whistling quietly, but urgently.

<“What is it?”> Duuklaf grumbled, clambering onto his haunches. After a long and arduous climb the pair had finally clambered onto the cold, hard, ferrocrete streets of Kaas City. The heart of the hidden Sith Empire was a sprawling fortress of monolithic skyscrapers towering upward towards the lightning filled sky that crackled about their dark spires. And beneath the city’s imposing skyline countless Imperial citizens and slaves ardently toiled under the watchful eyes of their Sith masters. The buildings were pristine, glistening in the rain, and basking in the ominous green light of imposing monuments and colossal insignias. The streets exhumed with order and authority, a subtle rigidity hung about its people like the mist that writhed between the cityscape beneath them. It was nothing like the filthy, crime-ridden Outer Rim suburbia that Duuklaf had seen, and as a life-long slave he had seen many. No, this metropolis was an orchestration of raw power, sever efficiency and dominating patriotism, an obelisk to Imperial might, burning brightly through violent storms of endless night. It was inspiring, even to a mere Abyssin slave.

But Duuklaf was not basking in its glory now; he was huddled in a darkened alley, hidden from upstanding citizens and watchful sentries. The climb had taken its toll on him, inflaming his injured shoulder where a stray blaster bolt had seared muscle. But the time for resting was over, already his wound had begun to heal and his imprisoners had dispatched patrols to comb the city for escapees. And one of them was heading this way.

Duuklaf heard the patrol long before he saw them, and immediately began to search about for an escape route. But the alleyway was a dead end, and to dash into the street would surely get him killed, or worse.

“Did you hear that?” the startled soldier whispered to his counterpart as they marched down one of the cities many walkways.

“I didn’t hear anything; your audio sensors are malfunctioning.” His counterpart replied in exasperation. This was the third time the skittish private had ‘heard something’, and it would be the third time he was wrong. Why did he have to get stuck with the rookie?

“Well maybe your audio sensors are –”

“Wait” he interrupted. “I’m picking up something on my scanners, probably just a civvy.”

“Let me see.” The rookie snatched the scanning device from the other, bringing them both to a halt. “It can’t be, look. What’s a civilian doing in same back alley at this time? I’m telling you Wak, I heard something.”

“All right.” Wak sighed. “Let’s take a look.”

But the alley was empty; the backend to a storehouse was locked.

“See, nothing but cargo crates.” Wak replied, faintly irritated. “Just civvies interfering with the sensors.”

Duuklaf attempted to stifle his rising urge to kill, but his gnawing hunger could not be ignored. He had scaled the wall at the end of the alleyway and now lay wedged between two corners, gazing down at the prattling soldiers. Thinking how soft their flesh must be beneath those armoured shells. But he could not risk detection... and yet he was so hungry! Reason gave way to bloodlust and he dropped down upon his unsuspecting prey.

Their startled cries where quickly silenced as he ripped out their throats and begun tearing apart their armoured hides. Threecee emerged from hiding behind the cargo crates, expressing disgust in a series of beeps and whirs as Duuklaf gorged himself on human flesh.

<“Shut up droid!”> He growled between mouthfuls. <“Duuklaf eating.”> And continued to do so for several more clicks. Finally, when the Abyssin was done, he hid the mangled remains amongst the crates. And under the cover of perpetual darkness, slipped away with the astromech.

Thick storm clouds concealed all knowledge of day and night on Dromund Kaas, and yet some form of night must have fallen for as Duuklaf and Threecee skulked through the streets they found them empty – yet the city was still rife with patrols. But Duuklaf knew where he was going. It seemed an age since the Oracle had swept low over Dromund Kaas, but Duuklaf remembered those brief moments before their ship had been shot down. They were heading for a spaceport, a great, dish-shaped structure flickering with blue light. But that spaceport had been outside the city, and before long Duuklaf was confronted with a great, towering wall of impenetrable durasteel. But Duuklaf had come prepared.

<“Come here droid!”> He snapped. Threecee shuffled timorously towards him with a low whistle. The Abyssin unhooked a wire of fibercord from his belt that he had scavenged from the back alley cargo crates. In a series of deft movements he tied the cord around his abdomen. Then, hoisting the droid upward with one hand he strapped it to his back with the other, tying the remaining cord around his neck and body, and then pulling it tight. Threecee squealed in protest, anticipating another bout of daring acrobatics. But Duuklaf bashed him repeatedly, and the droid fell silent.

Flexing his muscles, Duuklaf prepared to climb. Then, with a short run up, he leapt at the wall and clung to it, digging his powerful claws into the metal. With slow, methodical movements, he began to scale the wall, unseen and unheard. Escaping into the jungle.

How long had she been imprisoned here? She could not remember. Traya had long since lost track of time. Suspended in a containment field within a dark chamber, Traya had been subject to an assailing of the mind at the hands of the Emperor. He had imprisoned her here, after her betrayal. She was weakening, and his attacks were relentless, but somehow she had managed to cling on to her sanity, and deny him a vision.

But she could not last much longer.

The Emperor was absent, for now. But she still had no means of escape, only a plan. Carefully, wary of altering her captors, she reached out with the Force.

“One-eye.” She whispered across a transcendent plane.

<“Master?”> She heard him think.

“You have escaped the prison? With the droid?”

<“Yes, master.”> The Abyssin replied with an air of triumph. <“Duuklaf escaped the prison, escaped Kaas City. Now he heads for the spaceport.”>

“There has been a change of plan, one-eye. Listen carefully...”

His master’s instructions had been clear, and now Duuklaf bounded through the undergrowth towards an immense electricity spire, its apex crackled violently as arcs of violet lightning challenged its dominance of the skyline. Duuklaf dropped into a crouch metres away from it, the tower was guarded. A pair of heavily armed war droids stood sentry. Walking turrets, blaster cannons for arms and micro-missile launchers mounted on their plated backs. The machines shifted subtly on their tripod legs, the red visors of their droid brains lazily scanning the area for potential hostilities. Duuklaf forced himself to pause, assessing the situation. These droids possessed no throats to be torn out, or pulpy flesh to be bitten into, no fear or pain to feed his power. All they had beneath their duraplated skin were mechanised parts, whirring generators, a mess of wires, and reams of programming. Then he had an idea.

<“Droid.”> He hissed at the astromech still tied to his back. <“Duuklaf jump on big droids back, you melt their heads with... whatever.”>

“Beep dweet deweet!” Threecee expressed his concern at the daring plan, but Duuklaf interpreted it as affirmation and launched into action.

The droids were not advanced enough to match his breath-taking speed, by the time they had begun firing at the green blur, Duuklaf had jumped clear, and landed on top of a metal head. The assault droid began to shake and swing erratically and Duuklaf quickly grabbed hold of its twin missile launchers, forcing them upwards. The droid tried to bring its turrets to bear but only succeeded in firing aimless missile whistling into the sky. He could hear the other droid scuttling about behind him, attempting to get a clear shot. But Duuklaf pulled and tugged at his mount violently, forcing the machine to lurch out of the assault droids reticules.

A high pitched electronic shriek rang out as Threecee pierced the droids brain with his welder. The droid went berserk, spinning and staggering about aimlessly on its tripod feet and firing missiles in all directions. Duuklaf seized the opportunity, with perfect timing he leapt over the volatile missile launchers, swinging onto its back and slamming his claws down hard on the turrets. A volley of squealing projectiles buried themselves into the brain of the other machine. In a splutter of sparks it slumped to the ground, Duuklaf’s mount followed shortly after.

But the sound of blaster fire and sight of missiles salvos scorching the sky must have alerted the distant city. Duuklaf could smell reinforcements approaching, here them tearing through the undergrowth.

<“Hurry droid! Overload the spire!”> He growled kneeling down so Threecee faced the spire’s controls.

Threecee let out a sharp cry of alarm.

<“Do it now!”> Duuklaf roared.

The droid, more terrified at the prospect of an angry Abyssin that an exploding electricity spire, inserted its extendible arm into the control panel. It quickly sliced into the weakly protected spire, flooding its systems with false data, as a former servant of the Jedi Order, he was trained to be the best, then proceeded to thrust its power conduits into overdrive. The panel fizzed aggressively and Threecee quickly retracted its smouldering arm like a human stung by a fire wasp. Then the astromech began to squeal loudly, in anticipation of what was about to happen. But Duuklaf needed no reminding and broke into a sprint.

Even with an astromech strapped to his back the Abyssin moved with incredible velocity, covering several metres within seconds. A series of shouts echoed through the jungle, followed by a volley of crimson blaster fire. But Duuklaf was too quick, and the volleys were soon silenced as a bolt of angry lightning ripped through the trees, setting them aflame. More followed, pulverising all they touched. The noise was deafening and the explosions threatened to send Duuklaf flying. He was caught in a thunderstorm of destruction as the jungle lit up around him. Behind him the tip of the spire was aglow with purple light, erratic bolts of lightning spewing in all directions and a wailing scream emanated from it all, nearing a violent crescendo. Duuklaf threw himself forward, diving of a ledge and into a shallow stream. The astromech’s cries mingled indistinguishably with the howling electrical explosion as the spire shattered completely, showering half of Kaas City and the surrounding jungle in lightning. Distant rumbles echoed the destruction of innumerable spires and hyperspace beacons, overloaded as the primary spire sent earthquaking ripples through the planets power grid. Duuklaf could only imagine the utter destruction the explosion must have wrought.

Traya felt the Citadel shudder as its generators exploded. She heard the cries of countless lives extinguished by flames as violent electrical blasts lacerated the cities towering skyscrapers, rebuking their quest for the skies. In her mind she could imagine the ruined city, the smouldering wreckage, the scorched bodies, the wails of pain and anguish. But they were necessary deaths.

The power in the prison failed abruptly, plunging the cell into darkness and releasing Traya from the containments field’s grip. A pair of guardsmen rushed into the chamber, armed with bolt casters, ready to open fire. But Traya was ready too; bursting from a sealed weapons rack her lightsaber flew into her waiting palm and decapitated the startled guardsmen with single strike. Their bodies toppled to the floor in a grim chorus. Moments later the emergency power supply activated, and the entire prison was bathed in a dim, red glow. Ironically far brighter than it had ever been before. But they would serve no purpose, for Traya had already escaped into the corridor and vanished into nothing.

But she was soon forced to slow her advance. She could feel the Emperor’s presence, he was close. And the guardsmen, guided by his omniscience, where getting even closer. Yet Darth Traya was a master of guile and deception and evaded them with ease.

It did not last for long.

As she burst onto the landing pad, batting the durasteel blast door apart with the Force, she was faced with an entire squad of Imperial guardsmen armed with advanced blaster rifles, open firing at their invisible foe. Traya was caught completely off guard, she had not sensed them... but of course, the Emperor had clouded her vision. Concentration lost, her illusion faded, and her lightsaber transformed into a crimson pinwheel, deflecting and redirecting the hail of blaster fire. She sensed more coming in to flank her and leapt up high, then plunged down into the centre of her attackers, releasing a powerful force wave that sent them hurtling in all directions. Several unfortunates were tossed into the canyon below, and with a series of jabs and thrusts she dispatched several more, then backed away to the edge of the empty landing pad as the reinforcements pushed the assault. A hail of lightning kept them from overwhelming her position.

To an observer she must have seemed an iridescent blur, expertly deflecting the flurry of incoming fire. Any guardsman that attempted to charge her were quickly cut down or thrust into enemy fire. Spontaneous bursts of lightning spurted from her fingertips, lacerating her attackers with violet energy. She could see, countless fractures – and she exploited them. Redirecting a bolt or unleashing a dagger of lighting at the right time, at the right moment. Another attacker felled. But she was running out of time, her attackers were adapting, learning, it was only a matter of time before they launched an attack she could not avoid.

“Duuklaf!” She bellowed through the Force. “Hurry!” She could feel his presence faintly, a distant glow growing brighter and brighter.

Another presence entered her vision, a more powerful presence. A Sith sorcerer, garbed in elaborate and imposing attire, emerged from the hailstorm blaster fire. For a brief moment he observed his enemy, glowing yellow eyes leering from within a hooded, cage like mask. Then unleashed a powerful chain of purple lightning at her. Instinctively she raised her lightsaber to absorb the attack. It was too late when she realised her mistake.

A sharp pain erupted in her chest as a blaster bolt found its mark. Thrusting out her free hand she released a Force wave, flinging the guardsmen backward and breaking the sorcerers attack. In that brief moment of reprieve Traya caught sight of a pair of guardsmen emerging onto the platform, one carried a rocket launcher. And in a second moment she felt Duuklaf’s presence rapidly approaching, drawing closer. She saw the sorcerer stare at something behind her and she stole a glance backward. A dagger shaped Fury-class interceptor was bearing down on the platform. The vessel unleashed an erratic volley of laser fire from its forward cannons, engulfing the platform in flames and rubble. Realising the vessel was not piloted by an Imperial the sorcerer unleashed a desperate blast of lightning at Traya, but she deflected the bolt with ease and redirected it, striking the sorcerer in the chest and sending him sprawling backwards. Then, reaching out with the Force she wrapped invisible tendrils around the landing pad’s supports and ripped them apart. The platform creaked and groaned, shuddering downward, throwing guardsmen to the floor or over the edge. A whining projectile, misaimed by a floundering guardsman, plunged into the canyon with them. Traya flipped away in from the chaos with a backwards somersault, landing perfectly on the Interceptors extended boarding ramp. She watched as the sorcerer attempted a hasty retreat, scrambling back up the collapsing platform. But the Interceptor let loose another volley of laser fire, carving apart the flagging landing pad and sending its remains down into the canyon.

And as the Interceptor pulled away, Traya took one last glance at the smouldering city. Then the ramp closed shut.

No longer entrapped in the folds of battle, Traya felt the sharp sting of pain as her mind reminded her of her injury. The well-aimed bolt had dug deeper than she thought. She stumbled through the red lit ship and into the cockpit where Duuklaf and Threecee awaited her. The droid operated the controls. Traya collapsed into an obsidian chair as the vessel rocketed out of the planet’s crackling atmosphere, and into the blackness of space... into an Imperial blockade.

It seemed that several more vessels had dropped out of orbit since they had arrived at the strange world. And now a wall of cold, grey dreadnoughts stood between them and hyperspace. Traya estimated the vessel would be fast enough to outrun its fighters, but not without an organic pilot. She glanced at the astromech who beeped and whirred at the incoming warships. And she glanced at the Abyssin, who started dumbstruck at the imposing sight ahead.

“One-eye!” She croaked. “You must pilot the ship, I am – injured.” A hand clutched her side and she let the Force ease her wounds. But the darkside could only do so much.

<“Duuklaf? But – but Duuklaf is no pilot! Duuklaf just a slave, a brute!”> He protested.

“Do not worry, Duuklaf. I will guide you.” She said in a hushed tone, slipping into a trance.

Duuklaf felt her mind creeping over his, he turned to the controls, seizing them with his crude claws. They were alien to him, yet Traya guided his movements. The ship was suddenly thrust into evasive manoeuvres as the dreadnoughts open fired and a flurry of fighters swooped towards them. A burst from the sublight engines thrust the Interceptor into full throttle, into the heart of the blockade. Turbolaser batteries, docking bays, steel plating and angular command towers rushed by in a metallic blur as they weaved and bobbed through the wall of battlecruisers. Starfighters swarmed about them, the viewport became awash with laser fire. Duuklaf instinctively fired the forward laser cannons and a pair of fighters exploded in front of them, engulfing their vision in flames. And as the debris and fire dust cleared, they were left only with glistening dots. Duuklaf thrust the hyperspace lever forward and the stars stretched impossibly as the ship jumped to lightspeed.

They had set course for Malachor V, the planet’s coordinates burned into Traya’s memory. And now she sat in one its hollow dormitories, deep in meditation. She had not had the time to reflect on all that had happened since she had discovered the broken planet. Her plan to use the Emperor’s power to deafen all to the Force, had failed. For she had realised now he would only become a greater blight on the galaxy than the Force ever was. He must be destroyed, that she could say for certain, but it was not she who would destroy him. Perhaps it would be Revan, or perhaps... another. Her mind drifted, drifted to her visions – her sightings. The grotesque corpse and the chilling spectre, she recognised them now. They had been in her vision, in the Tomb of Ludo Kressh. They were important, she knew it. They were her future. She had to seek them out, or perhaps they would find her first. She could not say.

But as Traya meditated. As the ship drifted through the silent, blue tunnel of hyperspace. Another vision, another image, lay forgotten in the recesses of her mind. The image of a woman, with glistening sliver hair, skin a perfect pearly white, and eyes a crystalline blue. But in time... she would remember.