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Darth Traya: Waiting in the Dark


Beniboybling

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My second FanFiction: about Kreia and the missing chapters of her life. I've tried to make my story as succinct with established canon as possible, by basing events on what Kreia knows and says. So I hope you can adopt this story as your new head-canon!

 

(<> signs means the words are spoken in a language other than Basic.)

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A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away…

 

STAR WARS

DARTH TRAYA: WAITING IN THE DARK

 

“You must go where Revan did, into the Unknown Regions, where the Sith, the true Sith, wait in the dark for the great war that comes.”

 

A great darkness has been lifted from the galaxy. Revan, redeemed Jedi Knight and former Sith Lord, has defeated the evil Darth Malak in the belly of the Star Forge. The Jedi celebrate their victory over the Sith Empire and the Galactic Republic begins to rebuild. But the forgotten end to the Mandalorian Wars still burns with the power of the dark side...

 

I

 

An old woman looked out over the ruins of Malachor V from the cockpit of a light Republic corvette. She has gone by many names and many guises, but for now we shall call her ‘Kreia’.

 

Kreia had never approved of naming starships. Her former, more egoistic master however had named this one Oracle, the words where imprinted in Aurebesh on its exterior. The Vanguard-class corvette had become hers after his death. Sleek and fan-shaped it possessed the firepower of a gunship and the speed of a fighter. Perfect for a Jedi. But she was no longer a Jedi. Exiled for her teachings Kreia had taken the starship with her, the faded insignia of her Order and distinctive crimson colours of the Republic a harsh reminder of her past.

 

“Beep boo weep. Twee Twee.” A boisterous astromech droid, 3C-FD, rattled into the cockpit, breaking her trance.

 

“Silence, machine” was the scathing reply. The droid let out a low whistle, then skulked off back into the ship.

 

“Why Revan ever favoured the presence of such mindless machines will forever remain a mystery to me.” She muttered to herself.

 

Revan. The only Jedi to turn to the dark side without a fall. And Malachor, where he had activated the Mass Shadow Generator, ravaging the planet’s surface and crushing countless battlecruisers in its dying grip. Where he cut down Mandalore and stripped the once proud race of their dignity. They are scattered mercenaries now.

 

Arrogant mercenaries.” Kreia thought aloud. “No Mandalorian could ever hope to stand against a Jedi, let this dead rock be a symbol of their failure.”

 

But the planet was not dead, not yet. It thrummed with the power of the dark side and deep within its grasp an academy of assassins, abandoned by their master, watched the Oracle’s descent.

 

“Beeeep reet deeet-deet!” Threecee had returned to the cockpit, expressing the unlikelihood of surviving an encounter with the malevolent lighting storms below.

 

“I told you to be silent.” Kreia was no fool. After Revan remerged as a Sith Lord she went into hiding, fleeing his assassins. But they were not invincible, before death she had coaxed the location of the Trayus Academy from a dying mouth, then extracted the landing codes to navigate the storms from his corpse. And so, guided by the navicomputer, the Oracle descended into Malachor’s depths.

 

*** *** ***

 

“Overseer” A lone figure clad black stood before his master in the centre of the academy. The Trayus Core – shaped like a malevolent claw it hung over a massive geyser of dark side energy. The one called ‘overseer’ knelt in the centre upon a circle of crimson red. It illuminated him and the core with an insidious glow.

 

“Why do you disturb my meditation, acolyte?” The room grew tangibly colder.

 

“I beg your forgiveness Overseer. An unidentified vessel is approaching the academy.”

 

“It navigated the storms?”

 

“Yes, Overseer. Perhaps it is one of our brothers, returned from the war.”

 

“The war is over, acolyte.” The overseer replied harshly. “Darth Revan is dead and Malak has fallen to the Jedi. There are no more assassins, we are the last. Whatever approaches is… something else.”

 

“But if they have the landing codes…”

 

“Do not be so naïve acolyte!” The overseer snapped. “Assassins can be killed, codes can be stolen. Go, meet our visitors and bring them to me.”

 

“Yes, Overseer.” With a low bow, the assassin made a hurried departure.

 

*** *** ***

 

“Machine. Deploy the landing ramp.”

 

“Beep dweet dweet?”

 

“No. You will remain here. An academy of the Force is no place for your kind. I shall go alone.”

 

Kreia’s training as a Padawan had taught her to understand droidspeak. A detestable skill indeed. But a necessary one. For even droids can keep secrets, hidden within their binary codes. And for a droid to have an advantage or her, was a far more detestable. Garbed in earthy brown and green robes, hood pulled over her sightless eyes, she looked out from the cockpit, lit in soft blue. The Oracle had landed on an isolated landing pad, jutting out from a jagged, charred edifice. A narrow walkway led from the pad into the academy.

 

Descending from the landing ramp, Kreia approached. To the naked eye the walkway seemed empty. But Kreia had long since discarded her natural sight. She saw through the Force, and she saw them.

 

“Reveal yourselves assassins” she commanded. “You cannot hide your shapes from me, for I have no eyes to be fooled.”

 

With a rippling whir the assassins decloaked. Four figures garbed in shadowy attire. They gazed out at her through the great, red eye sockets of their macabre masks. The one who had spoken with the overseer, indistinguishable from the others, addressed the old woman.

 

“Your arrival is unexpected. Come with us, our master wishes to speak with you.”

 

Master?” Kreia replied with a subtle mocking tone. “You hide in the shadows yet you are blinded yourselves. I have no interest in what you call ‘master’ now. I have come for what your true master, Darth Revan, left behind.”

 

If the assassins where insulted by this, their emotions remained hidden behind their masks.

 

“Only the Overseer can grant you such knowledge. And only if you are deemed worthy.”

 

“So be it. Take me to your overseer. And from him I shall take what I seek.”

 

*** *** ***

 

“A Jedi.” The overseer exclaimed with morbid interest as Kreia was brought to the heart of the academy. Back turned, he remained knelt in the centre of the altar.

 

“Do not attempt to label me, assassin. I am not shackled by beliefs as you are.”

 

“You are a bold one. But whether you are a Jedi or not is unimportant, you shall embrace the dark side like the rest.” With those final words the four assassins who had led her to this place knelt in a rough circle around her, as if in preparation for a ritual.

 

“Do you feel it?” The overseer whispered. “Do you feel the power of the dark side? The air is thick with it, and you cannot walk about this place without breathing it in.”

 

The overseer began to seethe with shadowy energy, they all did. They became enveloped in a thick, black aura, channelling the dark energies that pulsated beneath them. Channelling them into her. The academy had turned many Jedi, consuming them in dark side energy, even the strongest of wills can be broken, and Kreia was no different. The old woman clutched her skull, writhing in agony as invisible tendrils threatened to penetrate her mind and pollute her consciousness. The pain intensified, if she continued to resist she would surely die. So she did not. Embracing the power of the dark side as they intended she let the energies of Malachor flow through her. But she would not become a mindless slave like they had. She had other plans.

 

Kreia released her energy on the assassins. Tendrils of dark power, Sith lightning, burst from her fingertips, striking each one through the heart. The four assassins who had knelt around her collapsed to the ground, dead. The overseer, who had remained untouched, spun round in surprise to face her. Unlike the assassins he wore no mask. His uncovered face had been paled by the dark side, two lightsabers hung at his waist. But before he could even draw his weapons Kreia unleashed another barrage of lightning. Purple energy wracked every inch of his body, he fells to his knees.

 

She knelt beside him. Now deep in the dark side’s cold embrace, her skin was ashen white and her eyes two black voids.

 

“I have spared you, assassin. And now you shall do something for me.”

 

The assassin gasped a response. “You have… great power. You have… Revan’s power. I will serve.”

 

Kreia rose to her feet. “You shall do more than serve. Your other… murderers. They shall serve me as well, and the secrets of this place, they shall be mine as well. Show me what Revan left behind.”

 

“Yes, my lord.”

 

The Trayus Academy is a place of learning, of ancient knowledge. Left behind by a race of red-skinned conquerors millennia ago.

 

...The Force has deceived you. The holocrons told her.

 

It promises strength, knowledge, peace. It feigns serenity and harmony with life. But these preachings are false. The Force is an insidious God. Indifferent and uncaring. It has no concern for life, as long as the balance is maintained. The Force has betrayed its wielders, making them live in a compromised and chaotic universe – making them live a lie. The Force has betrayed us, we are its tools, in return for power we are given death...

 

She tried to deny their teachings, denounce their heresies as false. But she could not, she had witnessed the Mandalorian Wars. Felt the Battle of Malachor V. Watched Revan and Malak return to cut down the Republic and the Jedi. All this, all this wasteful death, was – must – be the will of the Force.

 

The overseer stood waiting for her as she left the chamber. Her atrophied eyes seemed to lock with his.

 

“Tell me. What do you call this place?”

 

“The Trayus Academy, my lord.” For a moment, Kreia paused, considering his words. Then she spoke.

 

“Traya.”

 

“My lord?” The overseer said with a puzzled expression.

 

“Traya.” She repeated. “I have embraced the teachings of the place, cast of the shackles of my past. I am Darth Traya now.”

 

The overseer knelt before her. “And we are your servants, my lord.”

 

And so, Darth Traya, Lord of Betrayal was born. She who holds the knowledge of betrayal, who has been betrayed in her heart, and will betray in turn.

 

II

 

The teachings of ancient Sith were not all Traya found in the academy. The overseer had shown her a hidden antechamber, and contained within it – a journal:

 

I had hoped to take this to my grave, but I realise now that such knowledge cannot remain unknown. I you’re reading this datacron then I have failed, I can only hope that you have the power to do what I could not. However, I cannot risk such information falling into the wrong hands, weak hands. As a precaution I have stored the knowledge, the location, of the threat I faced in the Unknown Regions in a datacron – now hidden in the Valley of the Dark Lords on Korriban. If you have the strength, you will find it.

 

“Ah” Traya exclaimed quietly. Her voice echoed off of cold, grey walls of the antechamber. She had abandoned the clothes of her Order, the soft red glow illuminated the black robes the overseer had presented to her. “So you did not chase the last of the Mandalorians as many thought you did.”

 

She understood now, Revan had hidden his journal in a place of dark power, for he knew only one with full knowledge of the Force, light and dark combined, could challenge what he found.

 

“Revan never fell to the dark side” Traya whispered with realisation “he found a greater cause that called for such actions to be done.” But Revan had failed, no doubt he sought to reforge the Republic, to make it strong.

 

“He was betrayed.”

 

Stabbed in the back by his apprentice, the fool who failed to see Revan’s vision. Darth Malak, she had watched his savage campaign across the galaxy.

 

“No foresight, no strategy. A blunt weapon, striking out and anything, and everything.”

 

She, she must take up the mantle of Revan, of Dark Lord of the Sith. She must restore his legacy. But first, first she must learn what had happened, what had happened in the Unknown Regions. “The past must be met before the future can be set in motion...” she whispered.

 

Traya could not help but smile upon seeing the results of the Oracle’s transformation. She knew that in the places she would walk, should could not be recognised as a Jedi. And taking one of assassin’s fighters was not an option, for a person such as herself to occupy such a small, cramped vessel was... indignifying. And so she had had the academy’s maintenance droids repaint her ship. Gone was the brazen red of the Republic she had once served, replaced by a cold, dark grey, and its white strips had become a noticeable shade darker. The insignia of the Jedi Order had been wiped off, the last tie to the past life severed. And she was suitably impressed when she noticed the interior lighting, a former light blue, had been refitted with a menacing red.

 

“Dweet dweet reeeet” 3C jittered as Kreia, now Darth Traya returned to the Oracle. She had been gone for weeks.

 

“My appearance is not your concern, machine. Your concern is the operation of this ship, set course for Korriban.”

 

“Dweet reet deet-deet?”

 

“You have not heard of Korriban? I am not surprised, it is a graveyard of ancient Sith lords still whispering in their tombs.”

 

“Beep reet beep?”

 

“No, machine. I shall walk the sands of Korriban alone. I have little patience for your kind. But now, be silent. I have wasted enough time on you and I have much to meditate on.”

 

*** *** ***

 

Korriban. Birthplace of the Sith. Millennia ago exiled Jedi discovered this planet and conquered its native species – the Sith.

 

“Sometimes more harm is done with a compassionate hand than with a clenched fist.” Traya mused.

 

“Reet deet reet?” Threecee buzzed.

 

“There is only one settlement on this barren planet, Dreshdae. You will find a spaceport there.”

 

Threecee deployed his scomp link into the Oracle’s navicomputer, a small extendable arm. Traya was not incapable of piloting the Oracle and sat in the captain’s chair. But she had grown old and unused to the mechanics of a starship, and so Threecee, a capable astromech, assisted her navigation. Although she would never care to admit it.

 

Dreshdae was a cluttered settlement and informal capital Korriban, formed in the aftermath of the Great Sith War. Former disciples of Exar Kun had fled to the Korriban and made it their home, waiting for another to claim the mantle of Dark Lord of the Sith and lead them against the Republic and the Jedi once more. That Sith was Darth Revan, when he returned to the known galaxy Korriban became the centre of his Empire, the academy flourished, the settlement thrived. Truly it had become Ziost’s successor as the focal point of the Sith.

 

It had fallen far since then.

 

The Oracle swept low over the bleached, deserted city of Dreshdae, as desolate and as arid looking as its unforgiving surroundings. Then the ruins came into view. Several buildings lay broken and collapsed, walls charred, smoke billowed upwards from recent explosions. The spaceport however, seemed intact. The Oracle touched down on one of the landing platforms and Traya disembarked alone. She had been to Korriban before, and was surprised by its climate. For despite its arid appearance, the planet was as cold as the corpses it housed. She shivered, both from the weather and the scent of death that lingered in the air.

 

“Ooncha, quali-quali koompa. Dooka rese lampa?” A Twi’lek official garbled to her in his native tongue, breaking her trance. She was no protocol droid, but neither was she ignorant.

 

“My business is my own, alien.”

 

<“Of course. But I must warn you, the situation here on Korriban is... volatile.”>

 

“I gathered as much.” She replied impatiently. “I assume the Sith have turned on one another, again.”

 

<“Err... Yes my, my...”> the Twi’lek became flustered for a moment, looking down at her attire, searching for a lightsaber, but it is concealed within her robes.

 

“I have no time for your prattling. Speak, or leave me be.”

 

<“Yes of course, sorry my, my lady. As I said the situation is most volatile, after the death of the academies headmaster a year ago tensions began to escalate. I believe that after much bloodshed a new headmaster was chosen. But recently the situation exploded.”>

 

Traya interjected with a tired impatience. “My time is both valuable and limited, alien.”

 

<“Of course, of course, my lady. I shall get straight to the point. Recently a group of Sith returned from the war, their leader declared himself Dark Lord of the Sith. He took hold of Dreshdae and –”>

 

The Twi’lek was cut off abruptly by a violent explosion, quickly followed by blaster fire.

 

“Vaaga! Vaaga! Ke impoo tocha toone!” The Twi’lek cried hysterically, so garbled that Traya failed to perceive a word. And then he was gone, scuttling away through a side door.

 

“The traitors are attacking!” A muffled shout escaped the intense sounds of ambush up ahead.

 

Traya reached out with the Force, these ‘traitors’ had infiltrated the spaceport. Sith troopers fired at one another from behind metal pillars. In the centre, acolytes, Sith and dark Jedi locked blades, duelling each other amongst the blaster fire. The attackers, she observed, wore grey military uniform. While the defenders were garbed in dark robes, some wore masks that concealed all but their eyes. The Sith who had fled from the Republic.

 

“They may prove useful.” Traya muttered to herself as she stalked silently and unflinchingly towards the action.

 

III

 

The spaceport was drowned in the thrall of battle; clamorous echoes resounded off the walls and merged together in a deafening roar. The carnage had not yet spread beyond the nearby corridor, and in the small arrival area that Traya stood in merchants and officials cowered behind counters and cargo crates. Two sith troopers, indistinguishable from their blaster wielding opponents, fired at the enemy from the corridor entrance. A large explosion rocked the building, making the troopers stumble.

 

“There breaking throu–” The retreating trooper was silenced by a fatal bolt to the head. The defenders, she sensed, were a stronger force – better trained, better equipped – but had been overwhelmed by superior numbers. More troopers began retreating into the arrival area, diving behind counters as they were pursued by blaster fire. A Sith acolyte was thrust backwards by an invisible force, his body smashed against the far wall. The enemy poured into the area, blaster bolts indifferently cutting down those in their path.

 

Traya observed the fighting from afar, concealing her presence with the Force, but now was the moment to intervene. Throwing of her shroud she raised a hand and released countless tendrils of orange energy upon the attackers. They screamed in unison as the life was drained from their bodies, then collapsed to the floor, empty husks. A group of Sith rushed in behind them, one threw her lightsaber toward Traya, propelled by the Force. Traya twirled effortlessly; evading the blade and unleashing a powerful Force wave as she spun back to face them, blasting them against the walls and leaving crumpled heaps on the ground.

 

A faint moan pierced the deathly silence. Traya approached the sole surviving defender of the onslaught. But as she did so the remaining attacking forces piled into the room. Traya continued unperturbed, the attackers began to choke, clawing at invisible hands around their throats, then fell down dead. The survivor, a female dark Jedi, a human with blonde hair and dressed in a black tunic, displayed both relief mingled with fear.

 

“Who–”

 

“Be silent, Sith” Traya whispered. “Your questions do not interest me.” She continued in the same soft but sinister tone. “I have saved your life. Dispatched your enemies. Now you will take me to the one who calls himself Dark Lord of the Sith.” She spoke the title lanced with hatred and mockery, so much it seemed to sting the Sith before her, who cradled one shoulder scorched by a blaster. A few merchants remained, most near death. But the others did not concern her and she would not waste compassion on them.

 

The academy approach was as charred and as grim as the spaceport. Fresh corpses littered the earth, rusting cargo crates smouldered, a broken protocol droid fizzed and crackled. A group of troopers, led by a commander clad in red, had already flooded the area, heading for the spaceport. They all but ignored Traya, whose powerful aura subtly affected their minds. Only when she spoke as they passed her, did they notice her presence.

 

“There is little you will find at the spaceport, only the dead and the weak.” The squad reacted as if they had seen a ghost, paused, then hurried back to the academy. The injured Sith stared after them, then at Traya in an ever increasing fear and awe.

 

*** *** ***

 

“There is nothing at the spaceport, my lord.” The commander announced upon returning to his Lord. “Only the dead and the weak.”

 

“What do you mean? All dead? Explain yourself!” The self-proclaimed Dark Lord snapped.

 

“I –”

 

The injured Sith, willed by Traya, her mind easily manipulated in its weakened state, hobbled into the light of the academies central chamber and interjected. “Not all dead, my lord. I survived; the traitors overran our position with superior numbers.”

 

The Sith Lord indicated to the commander to leave them “How did they reach the spaceport?”

 

“I’m not sure, my lord.” She replied nervously, aware of her masters swelling anger. “They may have found a tunnel in the shyrack caves.”

 

“But they were all killed?” He pressed.

 

“Yes, my lord. They cut through our ranks, but then – but then, she killed them, all of them.”

 

“She?”

 

Traya stepped out of the shadows. “I must admit, it was not the welcome I was expecting.”

 

“Acolyte! Who is this intruder you have allowed to infiltrate the academy.”

 

“I – my lord!”

 

“Enough, Sith. You have said enough.” The acolyte immediately fell silent, and a cold hush fell upon the academy’s central chamber. Like the order it now housed, the walls were faded, worn. They stank of death and wore the same arid colour of the sands they stood on. Traya would use this place; these broken Sith, drain the last of their energies until all that remains is a barren husk. And then she would cast them aside.

 

“I have gone, under many names, many guises.” She whispered cryptically, yet her voice loud in their ears. “But now I am Darth Traya, Dark Lord of the Sith, and you will kneel.”

 

You, a Dark Lord!” The Sith Lord spat. “Only I –” he suddenly cried out an fell to his knees, as an invisible force wrenched at his gut with a fist of ice.

 

“There is a place in the galaxy, surrounded by mass shadows. It is a place where the dark side is strong. It once belonged to Revan, for he knew the power of such places. But Malachor is mind now.” She reached out a hand, and clenched her fingers malevolently, choking the Sith, lifting him of the ground. “As is its power.”

 

“I am your servant – my – my lord” he gasped. Traya released her grip and he collapsed to the floor, panting heavily.

 

Traya watched him silently from beneath her hood, as he struggled to his feet.

 

“What is your will, my lord?” he muttered with a bow, wincing as he did so.

 

“I have come here, to Korriban, for a purpose. There is – a datacron, left behind by Darth Revan, what do you know about it?”

 

“Revan? He was a traitor to the Empire! Lord Malak was most displeased when he learned Revan had escaped Taris alive. He promised a –”

 

“Be silent!” Traya interjected. "You will spare me your prattling. If you cannot assist me in this matter, you are of no use to me.”

 

“My Lord, if I may speak.”

 

Traya titled her head to one of the other Sith present in the chamber, except he was dressed in military uniform.

 

“I trust you have something of use for me?”

 

“Y-yes, my lord” he stuttered. “There is an Abyssin who lives in the Tomb of Ajunta Pall. His name is Duuklaf. He has lived here for many years, he knows everything about the tombs, he must know of the datacron you seek.”

 

“How do you know his name?” The Sith Lord growled interrogatively.

 

“I – he helped me during my training as an acolyte” he muttered, head bowed in shame.

 

“Weak fool!” The Sith Lord spat, but before he could continue he was interrupted as a clattering sound echoed the arrival of a Sith commander, he saluted his Sith master.

 

“My lord, the traitors are attempting to take the Valley of the Dark Lords. There throwing everything they got at us, we can’t hold out much longer.”

 

Traya scowled. “If the traitors managed to take over the valley, the Abyssin may not survive.” She angled her head towards the Sith Lord. “You will ensure this does not happen.”

 

“Of course, my lord. They shall not take the Valley.” The Sith Lord promised.

 

“I shall extract the Abyssin myself.” Traya replied nonchalantly, and without another word strode out of the chamber towards the academy’s rear entrance. The signs of battle where all around her as she walked the long corridor. Troopers rushed in either direction, some carried weapons, others were escorted by Sith. When she entered what seemed to be a training chamber, the scene was much the same, Sith and troopers alike flooded out of the academy. Traya walked among them.

 

Like ants they poured out of the academy and scuttled into the Valley of the Dark Lords, insignificant lives charging into battle, to meet their deaths – such was the way of the Force. Blaster fire was audible ahead and as Traya emerged into the Valley, she witnessed Sith cut one another down amongst the tombs of the dead, soon the sands would be their graves.

 

Shrouding herself with the Force, Traya strode across the battlefield towards the Tomb of Ajunta Pall. Sith troopers crouched around the entrance, firing at a Sith acolyte dressed in grey uniform. Her lightsaber was a blur of energy, meeting every bolt with a satisfying twang. Raising a palm Traya released a burst of energy and the acolyte was flung across the Valley, her body smashing against a broken pillar. Traya watched as the troopers quickly recovered from their initial surprise and charged back into the fray, accustomed to blaming such phenomena on a mystical energy called ‘the Force’. Their naivety sickened her.

 

The doors to the tomb slid open with rattling and clicking as ancient mechanisms stirred to life. Inside was an inky abyss, it stank of musty death. Antique red glow strips permeated the darkness casting faint light on tiny specks of dust. Traya pressed forward, probing with the Force. She sensed the small minds of prowling Tukata, by they were few. One mind however stood out amongst the rest. The Abyssin was not difficult to find, as she had expected, he came to her.

 

As soon as she reached the end of a narrow walkway the creature sprang from hiding, emerging from beneath reburied earth. But Traya was not caught off guard; she had sensed his presence long before and only a fool would fail to notice the irregular pattern of the patch of earth he had hid beneath. So instead of sinking his claws and teeth into unsuspecting flesh, the Abyssin found himself suspended in the air by an invisible force. His single yellow eye wide in surprise.

 

“Are you truly so dead the Force, one-eye. That you cannot feel my power? Surely even a race as crude and brutish as yours can recognise a threat when they see it?”

 

The Abyssin let out a series of angry grunts and growls, his native tongue. The words sounded as if he were gorging himself on flesh as he spoke. Traya did not understand the words as he said, but it was not difficult to peer into his primal mind to perceive his meaning.

 

<“Do not call Duuklaf one-eye, witch! Release it!”>

 

“No, one-eye. I shall not release you, you are my servant now and you shall obey.”

 

<“Duuklaf shall never serve an old witch like you!”> He growled defiantly.

 

“Perhaps you will not, but wait...” As she peered into his mind to comprehend his words she had sensed, something else. Now she peered deeper, sifting through his thoughts, his memories, following the current to its source. The creature roared and writhed in futile resistance.

 

“I sense no fear in you only... anger. Ah, and with it... discontent. But why? You have the blood to fulfil your hunger, and yet... you wish to leave. Ah, the spirits of this place. They haunt you.”

 

The Abyssin stopped struggling. <“You, you can help Duuklaf leave this world? Leave the demons behind?”>

 

“I doubt you have encountered anything worthy of the title, ‘demon’. But in your understanding of it, yes. I can help you escape, but you must aid me in return.”

 

<“Duuklaf will do anything, anything you ask. To be free of this place.”>

 

“Good, good.” Traya muttered slowly, releasing the Abyssin from her invisible grip.

 

“Tell me.” she continued as he staggered to his feet “What do you know of the former Dark Lord, Darth Revan?”

 

IV

 

It seemed that Duuklaf knew much of the former Sith Lord, he had witnessed Revan come to Korriban not long after the onset of the Jedi Civil War, and enter the Tomb of Ludo Kressh. A tomb buried deep within the shyrack caves.

 

“And you did not follow him?” Traya asked, perched on the stub of a broken pillar, while Duuklaf crouched beside her.

 

<“No, that place, that place the demons are strong, too strong – Duuklaf dare not follow.”>

 

“A wise choice.” Traya mused. “The spirits of that place would have driven you to madness.”

 

<“But you will help Duuklaf escape them, the demons? Yes? Yes?”> he replied with the eagerness of one whose mind was close to breaking.

 

“If I find what I seek, then yes. But tell me, one-eye. How do you know so much of the tombs of Korriban?”

 

The Abyssin’s expression furrowed.

 

<”You think Duuklaf a beast? You think it a primal thing that hunts and kills? It is not, like you, Duuklaf is sentient. Duuklaf tire of killing and hunting, so it watch as well. Duuklaf sees much with its one eye. It see all that happens on Korriban.”

 

“If you know so much of the planet, tell me what else you know of Revan.” Traya demanded.

 

<“He come to Korriban before Duuklaf. Before the war, Duuklaf only hear rumours. Duuklaf was not here when Revan first visited, before the academy was built. That time he comes with another, Malak. But many years later, Revan come to Korriban a final time. But he is changed. The Sith, they do not recognise him. He does not call himself ‘Dark Lord’. He does not wear his mask. But Duuklaf knows him, he hears one he brought with him call him Revan. He drives off the demon that lived here, that haunted Duuklaf, Duuklaf is in his debt.”>

 

“Drove off?” Traya inquired. “Your meaning escapes me, one-eye.”

 

Duuklaf shifted uncomfortable, he had not yet grown accustomed to his new name. <“The demon, he speaks to it, he calms it, then it goes away.”

 

“Incredible.” Traya whispered. “He redeemed Ajunta Pall, the first Dark Lord of the Sith, to the light.” Then she spoke louder, in a disdainful tone. “To have fallen so far, and yet to turn from ones nature, is a pitiful fate indeed.”

 

A muffled explosion sent faint shudders through the tomb.

 

“It is not safe here, we must leave.”

 

The battlefield had changed since Traya had entered the crypt. Bodies littered the earth; both sides had suffered heavy casualties. Tomb entrances had been collapsed, and the site of years of Sith archaeology had been trampled. The Abyssin, unperturbed by the chaos before him, grunted at the site.

 

<“The Sith, they are too eager to uncover Korriban’s secrets. Duuklaf watches them, much is lost in their clumsy excavations – look now, their efforts have been undone.”>

 

“Indeed.” Kreia mused. “Come, one-eye. There is nothing more for us here.” And she departed with the Abyssin as silently as she had arrived, like wraiths.

 

*** *** ***

 

The Shyrack cave was wreathed in musty darkness. There was no light, but the Abyssin had adapted to the dark and Traya had no sight to be blinded. But she saw, through the Force.

 

<“This way”> Duuklaf grunted, beckoning with a green-skinned appendage, two pincer like fingers twitched in a curling gesture. The creature was dressed in a faded, tattered tunic, and leggings that stretched over his muscled legs. They left his clawed feet bare, which clattered against the rocks noisily, breaking the deathly silence of the place.

 

“Be silent, one-eye!” Traya whispered harshly. “There are many beasts here, and it would be best not to disturb them.”

 

Duuklaf growled. <“Do not tell Duuklaf to be silent, witch. If beasts come, Duuklaf will eat them!”>

 

Through the darkness an invisible tendril wrapped around the Abyssin’s thick neck.

 

“Still your tongue, one-eye.” Traya hissed. “Remember your place.” She released him from her grip.

 

Duuklaf gasped, rubbing at his neck. <“Yes, master. Sorry master. This way.”> He pointed into the abyss and they continued deeper into the cave, Duuklaf taking special care not to make a sound.

 

*** *** ***

 

Before them, buried within the dusky cave walls, was the Tomb of Ludo Kressh. The uninviting entrance was of ancient design, gray and angular. A dark, rhombic corridor lay within, illuminated by antique glowstrips.

 

“Ah, the Tomb of Ludo Kressh. You are right, one-eye. It seethes with the power of the dark side.”

 

<“Duuklaf will not follow you.”> The Abyssin growled with grave finality.

 

“I did not expect you to. I sense whatever awaits me in this tomb, I must face alone.” And so she strode forward, leaving Duuklaf behind.

 

The tomb was cold. But alive with the echoes, likes distant screams. Traya soon found herself in a chamber, shrouded in mist. The door slid shut behind her and through the Force she saw the mist clear, five Jedi stood before her.

 

A familiar voice pierced the silence “We have summoned you here because of your teachings. Because they are a danger to the Order.” It was the voice of Vrook Lamar, a Jedi Master.

 

“Ah” Traya exclaimed quietly. “The Jedi Council. My exile.”

 

“You teach the rejection of compassion for the weak. When it is the weak we are sworn to protect.” Master Kavar. “You teach detachment from the Force, when it is Force is our ally. These are not the ways of the Jedi.”

 

“They are the ways of the Sith!” Atris, the Jedi Historian, the fanatic. Her voice was brazen, and lacked the harmonious calm of the Council.

 

“Assertive, confident. As ever.” Traya whispered.

 

Lonna Vash, Zez-Kai Ell. All the Masters of her trial were present. Vash interjected with a calming tone. “No, Atris. She is not Sith.”

 

Zez-Kai Ell completed her sentence. “But your teachings will cause the fall of others, and that we cannot allow. Already your Padawan has left the Order to fight in the Mandalorian Wars, and I fear he will only fall further.”

 

I was not the only one who taught him. Her anger was beginning to rise.

 

“Those who followed Revan into war are traitors to our Order!” Atris interrupted. “They defiled the Council’s wishes, they are no longer Jedi and neither are you.”

 

But Traya would not listen to the Council’s scathing remarks any longer. Atris’ in particular.

 

“How can you possibly know of what you speak?” She bellowed. “If you do not open your eyes and see. If you do not see what Revan saw, if you hide from the galaxy behind temple walls?”

 

“We have seen enough.” Vrook interrupted. “The Mandalorians seek to goad us into battle, to answer such a call to war would oppose all that we represent.”

 

“And what is that, Vrook?” she said with disdain. “How will the Jedi respond to the war that lingers on their doorstep?” She knew the answer.

 

But it was Zez-Kai Ell who responded, who took the bait. “We must meditate, we need time to examine the threat. It is not the Jedi way to rush into battle. To take the easy path, that is the path to the dark side.”

 

“Ah.” She exclaimed with an air of triumph. “So you will do nothing? Apathy is death. Worse than death, because at least a rotting corpse feeds the beasts and the insects.” Her words, echoed through the tomb, and spirits heard them, and they remembered. “And it is your apathy, your inaction, that shall lead to the deaths of countless. It is your fear, fear that the Sith War will repeat itself, that shall lead to the Battle of Malachor V, to the rise of Darth Revan and your own downfall.” The council was silent. “And so...” she said in an ominous drawl “your actions shall come full circle. And the Jedi shall be shattered. I will assure it.”

 

“Enough!” Commanded Vrook. “We did not summon you hear to debate. You are exiled and a Jedi no longer. You will surrender your lightsaber to us and leave this place.”

 

“No. No Vrook.” Her words dripped with disdain. “You have taken my students from me, you have taken my teachings...”

 

From within her robes she summoned her lightsaber, ignited it, crimson red. “You will take nothing more!”

 

Atris ignited her blade, an icy blue. “Do you see now, Masters? She is Sith.”

 

“I see that now Atris.” Vrook replied. “I see how far she has fallen.” He ignited his own green blade. “We have no choice but to destroy her.”

 

Traya sprang into battle. The apparitions were no match for her prowess. Her lightsaber twirled and danced around them. It struck down Master Vrook, Master Kavar. It felt good, a final rejection of their judgement. Soon only Atris remained, assertive, arrogant Atris. So devoted to her beliefs, yet so blind to the truth, so unwilling to let go. To cut her down was the most satisfying of all.

 

And when it was done, when all the apparitions had been banished. She felt, at peace.

 

Peace is a lie.

 

But she was not Sith, not truly. To dedicate herself to one teaching would make her as foolish as Atris. But there was truth in the mantra, she sensed many more challenges awaited her in the tomb. And so she left the chamber, leaving the past it held behind.

 

V

 

Kressh’s tomb was a series of chambers and passageways, swarming with shyracks and their brood. But they fell easily to Traya’s blade and she pitied their weakness. An entire nest had embedded itself in the second chamber, she butchered them all. But like weeds, she knew they would return.

 

But the third chamber, the third chamber held no shyracks, no enemies as tangible. Like the first, this chamber was wreathed in a pale mist, wreathed in the Force itself. It was larger, and dominated by a gaping chasm. A thick bridge crossed the gap. And like a dream, shapes began to form. Two guards dressed in Republic uniform, a bright red with yellow accents, stood either side of the bridge. And on the other side...

 

“Revan.” Traya gasped with utter disbelief, enthralled within the vision. She crossed the bridge, slowly, trance like. As she glanced at the ancient stone it seemed to shift beneath her feet, becoming smooth durasteel plating. And the once empty chasm became abuzz with control panels, terminals and crewman. The figure before her, back turned, was garbed in a warm brown, the robes of the Order she had helped him to leave. His hair was long and as dark as the wroshyr trees of Kashyyyk. And his face, gaunt and angular, illuminated by the soft blue glow of a holoterminal.

 

Traya suddenly stopped short before him, catching her breath. For the planet that hovered behind him, labelled in clear Aurebesh, was Malachor V.

 

“So.” Revan turned to face her, his face one of serene calm, a mask to his emotions. “After all we have been through, all we have endured, you abandon us in our final battle.”

 

Traya was stunned by his presence, his words – but not speechless. She remembered this moment, remembered what she had said aboard Revan’s flagship, vividly. It was a painful memory.

 

“Battle?” Her words were not laced with disdain, but with sorrow. “Thousands of starships torn to pieces, billions of lives extinguished. An entire planet devastated. A whole ripped in the Force. All this, at the nod of a head... this is not battle, this is slaughter!”

 

“It will leave the Republic safe.” Revan replied with adamant conviction.

 

Traya sighed. “All Malachor will leave is an echo, an echo that will scream in the minds of countless. An echo the galaxy will hear for a long, long time.”

 

“It is the only way we can win.” Revan insisted fervently. “It is the only way we can defeat the Mandalorians!”

 

“You are wrong.” Traya breathed harshly. “This is the will of the Force, you must fight it!”

 

Revan’s brow furrowed. “So you will do nothing.” It was a statement, not a question.

 

No! No, we must – ”

 

His face contorted into a scowl. “If you’re not with me,” he said darkly “your against me.” He ignited his lightsaber, it burned red. It’s insidious light irradiating not an earthy brown, but a callous black. The garb of a Sith Lord.

 

“Have you truly fallen so far?” Her mind was a blur, reality and illusion became one. Suddenly everything was real. His face, his robes, the crimson blade. She parried, thrust him away with the Force. He passed through the terminal, it fade into nothing, he struck the wall.

 

She ran. She could not fight him, she could not face him. So she ran passed Revan, ran into the corridor and sealed the chamber doors shut.

 

The old woman fell to her knees, exasperated. She thought she was strong enough for the trials, stronger than the dark presence that enveloped this place. But she could feel its insidious tendrils piercing her skull and burrowing into the recesses of her mind. The vision had been so real.

 

“No, no. Just a vision. He was just... a vision.” She muttered to herself, forcing the darkness out of her mind. Traya rose to her feet with new confidence.

 

“I will not succumb to your apparitions, Kressh!” She proclaimed into the darkness, her voice echoed through the corridor. “I am stronger!

 

*** *** ***

 

Another chamber, another vision. Five figures knelt before her in a semicircle. She recognised the assassins she had encountered – killed – in the Trayus Academy. But there was one she had spared. The overseer knelt in the middle.

 

“Just another vision.” She muttered.

 

“You have faced the dark moments of your past, Traya. And now you must face the present.” The overseer rose to his feet.

 

“We know of your plans, we know of the pain, what death you intend to bring to the galaxy.”

 

“What do you know of me, assassin?”

 

But the vision would not be interrupted. “You have been corrupted, twisted.” It breathed in a harsh tone. “You seek to bring life to the galaxy, peace. And yet you will cause such death, you will eradicate the Jedi.”

 

“It will be a necessary sacrifice.” She replied calmly.

 

“Ah, sacrifice. The pardon for atrocities across millennia. Was it not Revan who justified his actions during the Mandalorian Wars as ‘sacrifice’? Was it not Revan who justified the activation of the Mass Shadow Generator as ‘sacrifice’? You have tainted him Traya, with your own bitter curse.”

 

At this, she faltered. “Revan did not comprehend the full extent of his actions.”

 

“And you do?” The overseer replied mockingly. “Your actions will reverberate across the galaxy for centuries, echoes will never reach their destination. But you will learn this, through fire and blood.”

 

The overseer ignited dual, crimson blades and prepared to strike. But Traya was ready. As the other assassins leapt to their feet she released a powerful blast of dark side energy she had been building from the start. They were thrown against the all corners of the room, fading into nothing. Traya strode out of the chamber, shaken, and determined to leave the tomb as quickly as possible. She wanted no more questions, no more confrontations. She quickly found herself in a small chamber; in its centre lay an ancient sarcophagus flanked by tattered flags.

 

But it was not the coffin she was looking at, it was the figures in front of it.

 

On one side, a corpse like humanoid. Its skin cracked, marred and shattered. Ravaged beyond recognition. One eye swollen, a pale white, the colour of its grotesque skin. On the other side, a taller figure, garbed in black. It felt... hollow. Through a pale mask there was nothing but blackness, a void. But behind the ghastly figures, stood a woman. She was beautiful, wreathed in white robes. Her hair glistened silver, her skin was a perfect pearly alabaster. Her eyes a crystalline blue, as deep as the oceans of Manaan. Then she was gone. And the monsters were upon her...

 

<“Master? Master!”> A growling, grunting sound awoke her. Duuklaf.

 

Traya brushed away the Abyssin’s clawed appendage attempting to help her up. “Unhand me, one-eye. I may be old but I am not yet infirm!”

 

Duuklaf snuffled and growled softly, backing away as Traya climbed to her feet. She was still in the chamber, but the visions were gone. She did not care to think what had happened, she had no memory of it.

 

“The datacron, master. Duuklaf has it.” He clutched the dusty device in one claw.

 

“I am surprised you dared to venture this far into the tomb, one-eye. I had thought you too afraid to brave such dangers.”

 

<“Duuklaf is afraid. But master not return for long time. Duuklaf come looking, Duuklaf know secret passage, shortcut to the final chamber.”> The Abyssin beamed.

 

But Traya was not impressed. “And you did not think to inform me of this ‘secret passage’?” she scowled.

 

Duuklaf flustered. <“No, no master! No – Duuklaf mean yes!”> He continued to fumble over his grumbling dialect. “Duuklaf thought, master didn’t need shortcut. Many acolytes enter the tomb, test themselves against the demons. Strong acolytes survive, grow stronger. Weak acolytes die. Master is strong, and now – Master is stronger!”>

 

For a moment, Traya simply observed the shuffling Abyssin. For such a brutish creature he possessed a remarkable spark of wisdom. Then smiled faintly.

 

“Then show me the secret passage, and we shall be on our way.”

 

Hope your enjoying it so far - see page 3 for further chapters...

Edited by Beniboybling
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It just got real! :)

 

I don't know if you saw in my fan-fic, but I think you should write KOTOR 2 from Kreia's perspective. That would be flippin' awesome!

 

(For those that don't know, I don't curse. Find it distasteful to be honest. :D)

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It just got real! :)

 

I don't know if you saw in my fan-fic, but I think you should write KOTOR 2 from Kreia's perspective. That would be flippin' awesome!

 

(For those that don't know, I don't curse. Find it distasteful to be honest. :D)

Neither do I, lol. Although it's BioWare's fault that I keep saying gosh darn!

 

A fanfic on KOTOR 2? Interesting idea, after this I plan on doing one on her reign as a Sith Lord so maybe that could be number 3, definitely something to consider.

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:D I was hoping someone would pick up on that KOTOR reference, glad it made you laugh.

 

It was actually kinda obvious. Pretty much every Sith Lord says it. I think one says it on the Star Forge. Can't remember, though.

 

Loving the story so far! :)

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The story continues...

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VI

 

The sounds of battle echoed in the distance, muffled by blankets of sand and walls of stone. Traya ignored them, for as she strode toward the Sith academy, Duuklaf lumbering along behind her, she resided in a state of meditation. Reattuning herself to the Force and centring her mind, cleansing the tombs influences, of doubt, of fear.

 

Her concentration was broken abruptly.

 

A was violent clamouring greeted her senses as the weathered, rusted doors opened up the academy. The former training ground had been transformed into a battlefield as both defectors and their Sith superiors battled one another. Amongst the fray all sides where indistinguishable. A bloodbath had erupted within the sarcophagal walls as soon as their Master had left them to their own. Traya’s initial surprise curdled into disgust at their pathetic infighting.

 

A fleeting vision of decaying corpses, scattered in barren sands. Within a year Korriban would be as dead as the ancient Lords it housed. There was nothing more for her here.

 

Leaving the academy in chaos, Traya slipped away unnoticed and re-boarded the Oracle. Duuklaf followed behind her with a lurching gait, clutching the datacron in a smooth, green claw.

 

“Beep reet deet!” Threecee squealed upon seeing its master return.

 

“I thought in my absence you might have programmed the concept of silence into that empty plating of yours” Traya sneered. “It seems I was mistaken.”

 

“Boop bop beep beep?” The astromech inquired in a soft monotone.

 

“The Abyssin is none of your concern. I suggest you return to piloting this ship.”

 

And Threecee did so without another whir or a click.

 

*** *** ***

 

Traya knelt on the floor of her chamber, the grey plating now bathed in a reddish glow. A holoprojection towered in front of her, a tall, masked figure. Revan. Or at least an image. The datacron had only held two things within its tiny banks. The galactic coordinates to a mysterious planet called ‘Dromund Kaas’... and this.

 

“...it was above Malachor V that my quest to find the Sith, the true Sith, began.” The holorecording continued.

 

“As the once proud leader of the warmongering Mandalorian clans lay broken and dying at my feet, he revealed to me a disturbing secret. In the prelude to the Mandalorian Wars, Mandalore had been approached by a red-skinned man, a Sith pureblood. The man claimed to be the emissary of a powerful Sith Lord. This man manipulated Mandalore with the dark side, prophesying a great victory for his clans over the Republic and its Jedi protectors. But it was all an elaborate ruse, a test of the Republic’s strength. The Sith never intended for the Mandalorians to succeed, but to weaken the Republic’s foundations for their own invasion. One that surely would have destroyed the Republic entirely... It was on Dromund Kaas, adopted homeworld of the hidden Sith Empire, that I discovered the existence of a powerful Dark Lord known only as ‘the Emperor’. For months we spied on the Sith, under the guise of mercenaries. The Empire, so self-assured in their own safety, suspected nothing. It was only when we began meeting with member of the Emperor’s personal guard, Captain Yarri, that we were unmasked. A pureblooded female with raven black hair and burning yellow eyes. I mistook her determined persona and aggressive appearance as the marks of one forged by hatred for the Emperor. I was wrong. For though we did not know it, this guard we had suspected to be an enemy of the Emperor was in a fact his closest pawn. She had been reporting our plans to the Emperor himself. It was only when we entered the Emperor’s throne room that we realised our mistake, he was ready, and we were overwhelmed by his power. We became slaves to his will. The Imperial Guard cannot be trusted, least of all her...”

 

Time passed unnoticed as the holorecording continued, cataloguing Revan’s discovery of the Star Maps and the Star Forge itself, and him gathering the will to wrest free of the Emperor’s control. But the recording ended there, it said nothing of where he walked now... but why should it?

 

“I fear Revan has forgotten much of his past...”

 

After the Jedi Civil War had ended, Revan had disappeared into the folds of the Republic and rejoined the Jedi. It sickened her, the Jedi have brainwashed him. Exploited his amnesia and twisted his fractured mind to their will, enslaved him.

 

Suddenly she was enveloped in a vision. Revan amongst... Mandalorians, surrounded by frozen wasteland. A tomb, a datacron. A mask. The mask of Mandalore, the vision warped, shifted. A lush, fertile world... but somehow, dead. The vision ended in a flash of light, for a brief moment she glimpsed a storm covered world, coated in shadowy jungle.

 

“Dromund Kaas.” She said aloud, the vision had whispered it to her. The Force had shown her the future. Revan would remember. He would leave the Jedi, the Republic, in search of the past – as she did now. It would take him deep into the unknown regions, in search of the Sith, the true Sith...

 

For a moment Traya paused, she realised that here, before her, within this datacron, were the answers she had sought for years. She had found them, she had uncovered Revan’s fate. She knew now what had happened. He had become enslaved to the Emperor’s will, but he had broken free and turned the power the Emperor had given to him, the power of the dark side, against his former master. She had the answers, and yet why did she hesitate?

 

“Revan failed, the Sith still live, the Emperor still lives. And only I have the knowledge to stop him.” But she was Darth Traya now, was it not her role to betray the galaxy to its deserved fate? The Sith Empire would destroy the Republic, the Jedi – all she could have hoped for.

 

“No... no. My fight is not with the Jedi, or the Republic. But with their beliefs. Jedi, Sith, they are no different. The cycle of destruction, of death, it must end.”

 

She sensed Revan would return to Dromund Kaas, it was inevitable. And she would be there, waiting for him. Together they will destroy the Sith and reforge the galaxy, and prove her teachings true.

 

VII

 

Soon after programming the coordinates of ‘Dromund Kaas’ into the navicomputer the Oracle dropped out of hyperspace above the stormy world. The planet was a turquoise jewel, exhuming of the dark side, of power. An angular space station hovered in orbit above its surface, surrounded by unfamiliar dagger-shaped vessels. And yet all was strangely, quiet.

 

The silence was broken by a mild beeping from Threecee who was piloting the ship. There was interference on the comm channel. But Traya remained silent; a distinct sense of unease had taken hold of her. An imminent danger was approaching, but there was no use hesitating.

 

“Continue our descent.” She ordered. And the Oracle continued to plunge towards the planet, past the spacedock, into the planet’s atmosphere. Traya gripped the plated arms of her chair. Duuklaf, sensing the tension, hastily strapped himself into his own seat. The ship became engulfed in purplish storm clouds, the view from the cockpit wreathed in a sinister veil. Threecee let out a long, low whistle.

 

Then the mist cleared. Unveiling a volley of turbolaser fire, heading directly for their ship.

 

“Machine! Evasive manoeuvres!” Traya cried. But it was too late, immense globs of particle beam energy buried themselves into the Oracle’s hull. The ship shook violently in response, a farrago of blaring sirens, flashing consoles and Threecee’s high-pitched binary wails seized the vessel’s insides. Smoke and flames streamed past the transparisteel window. But Traya was blind to all this, her concentration absorbed in the Force as she wrapped the Oracle in a protective cocoon. And while Threecee desperately attempted to regain control of the damaged ship, Traya guided its turbulent descent.

 

Trees cracked and groaned violently as the Oracle tore into the undergrowth of Dromund Kaas. Branches shattered and trunks split as the ship ploughed into the earth, carving a long, deep gouge in the earth and scattering the ground with debris. The Oracle’s hull moaned deep and metallic, echoing the pain of the trees, as it slid to a shuddering halt. Abruptly Traya broke her trance, and the smell of smoldering metal flooded her senses.

 

Clambering from the shattered cockpit, Traya, the Abyssin and the astromech surveyed the wreckage of the broken vessel. The turbolasers had burned holes through its hull and the trees had left ugly scars across its face. No doubt the hyperdrive had been damaged beyond repair, and the engines had cracked on impact, leaking fluid into the shredded soil.

 

“Beep dweet dweet bop bop.”

 

“I am aware of the ships unspaceworthy condition, machine.” Traya snapped. “It seems we must find an alternative means of transportation.”

 

<“Master!”> The Abyssin interrupted. <“Duuklaf sees ships approaching!”> Traya followed the direction of his outstretched claw. Two grey transports were bearing down on their position.

 

The vessels swept low over the forest like a pair of majestic thrantas. No doubt within their bellies a cargo of warriors and soldiers prepared themselves to kill and capture. But Traya had come too far to be thwarted by such lowly life-forms. Stretching out with the Force she clasped a great, invisible hand around one and wrenched it from the sky. It shuddered and lurched under her will, careering into the other craft and exploding an ion engine, engulfing its own shattered wing in flames. The dark blue sky become ablaze with flames and smoke as two smouldering vessels plunged towards the earth. One vessel, its engines completely burned up, simply fell from to the ground like a rock; a muffled explosion erupted from the treetops. But the other managed to stay in flight, its shattered wings steering it directly... into them.

 

Duuklaf and Threecee had already made a break for the trees; Traya spun to watch them flee and in a split-second knew they would not get far enough to escape the imminent blast. Thrusting out with the Force she swept them off their feet, sending them careering into the shadowy undergrowth. Propelled by the Force she rushed after them, and at the last moment launched herself high into the air as the doomed transport collided with the remains of the Oracle, engulfing the air behind her into a blazing inferno. Traya landed perfectly amongst the forest, amongst the crumpled forms of an Abyssin, and an astromech tangled in vines and beeping hysterically.

 

“Get up!” She demanded, unimpressed with their dishevelled condition. But more impressed when Duuklaf, no doubt recovering only from the deafening sound and shock of being flung several feet into a forest, rolled over and sprang to his feet in a matter of seconds.

 

“What now, master?” He inquired eagerly. Despite having devoured almost all of the ships food supplies he looked, hungry.

 

Traya turned her head to gaze at the distant lights of the Citadel they had intended to dock at. Kaas City, even from such a distance and surrounded by forest, the towering metropolis was still visible.

 

“We shall continue to the city on foot. Come, those explosions would have been seen, reinforcements will arrive soon.”

 

“But why did they shoot us down, master? Master says many ships come to Dromund Kaas. Master says we slip by unnoticed.”

 

“Although it may seem it, one-eye” Traya interrupted. “I do not possess knowledge of everything. For now we have no choice but to follow the will of the Force.”

 

How she detested that word! Ever since uncovering the ancient Sith teachings on Malachor V, her hatred for the Force had surfaced, boiled over. It had always been there, she suspected. Buried beneath the teachings of the Jedi. But despite her feelings, in times of darkness she had no choice but to follow its will.

 

At times it may guide us, but it will always bind us. That cannot be forgotten.

 

Her thoughts were interrupted by a cacophony of inhuman cries emanating from the jungle. With no more warning hulking monstrosities burst from the trees, a green, horned creature with a great plated head charged towards them. A great muscled gundark, skin a violent red, charged with it amongst a pack of scaly vine cats with teeth like vibroblades. But before Traya could even draw her lightsaber, Duuklaf leapt into the fray. In seconds he had torn two of the vine cats to shreds, ripping out their throats with powerful claws. The gundark halted its advance and began swiping at the Abyssin with its massive claws. But Duuklaf was agile and slipped past his brutish attacks and leapt up onto his back.

 

Traya’s vision of the brawling Abyssin became obscured by the boned cranium of the charging yozusk. But she did not flinch or flee. In an instant she saw a weakness in its defences, a tiny gap in its armour. She stepped to the side, a flash of red. The beast was cut down in a single stroke. Two vine cats leapt over its corpse, and in two more movements of her lightsaber, they joined it.

 

The gundark had been felled, and Duuklaf had begun gnawing at its flesh, its eyes gouged out and throat torn apart. Traya was impressed.

 

“You must have been a legend amongst the Sith on Korriban, one-eye. I expect you feasted on the flesh of many an acolyte.”

 

The Abyssin grunted a <“Yes, master.”> In between gobbets of flesh.

 

“Dweet reet deeeet!” Threecee rattled in the background, clearly startled by what had just transpired.

 

Traya turned to regard the droid. “At the present moment your skills as a pilot are no longer required, so I suggest you remain silent. Unless you desire to be abandoned in the jungle, for the beasts to find you.”

 

There was no mirth in her tone, for she wanted nothing more to do exactly that, but she sensed the astromech would prove useful in time.

 

“Enough eating, one-eye.” She said, moving towards the forest. “We must reach Kaas City quickly.”

 

*** *** ***

 

The jungles of Dromund Kaas were deadly to all but a few, but to Traya and to Duuklaf the beasts that stalked its trees did not pose a threat. The same could not be said for Threecee who insisted on rattling ahead of them, determined to be of use after the loss of the ship and Traya’s scathing words. A small extendible sensor twirled about atop its dish-like head, his built in navigation systems, guided them towards the sparkling city. The bumbling astromech would repeatedly become ensnared in the vines that coated the denser parts of the forest, like nests of sleeping snakes. And the droid would buzz, click and whir hysterically when an assortment of beasts leapt out from the jungle, whizzing in the opposite direction at the first ruffling of branches.

 

And so, Traya was hardly surprised when with a startled “Dweeet!” the astromech disappeared altogether. She suspected, almost eagerly, that some creature had swept it up with its claws and was currently reducing the infuriating astromech to second-hand scrap metal. But that was not the case.

 

“It would seem that our machine has stumbled across something” Traya mused with an edge of humour, as she gazed of the ledge Threecee had dropped off. The droid’s sojourn to Kaas City had ended abruptly with a short cliff, directly below them was a ledge, jutting out halfway up the cliff side, and sloping downward on one side to meet the earth below. And atop it a smooth, stone statue, a robed figure, sat on a throne.

 

Traya jumped down onto the ledge, her descent softened by the Force. Threecee had landed in a noisy heap beside the statue and was attempting to right itself with little success. Traya made no move to assist; instead she gazed up at the imposing grey statue of what could only be, the Emperor. Violet flashes of lightning lit up the clouds and cast sinister shadows across its intimidating face.

 

<“Duuklaf wonders what a statue is doing out here in the jungle, with no one to see it.”> The Abyssin had climbed down onto the ledge and gazed up at the imposing monument with her.

 

“Indeed” Traya mused. Reaching out with the Force she sensed at once something more to the statue than a symbol of reverence to the Emperor. Whatever it was had been shrouded with Sith magic, she felt it. But the spell was not malevolent; it was subtle, unnoticeable to only the sharpest of minds. But she had such a mind; she could see its weaknesses, its fractures, shatterpoints in the impenetrable. With a single push, the shroud collapsed, and its secrets were revealed.

 

“There is something else here.” She whispered, then summoned the Force and thrust it against the statue. The figure groaned deeply, stone grating against stone, as it slid backwards, revealing a passageway. A set of stairs leading into a chamber below... She could sense a dark presence emanating from within. There was something here, something she needed.

 

“You will wait here, one-eye. With the machine.” She paused at the threshold. “Be on your guard.”

 

<“But Master!”> Duuklaf protested.

 

“Do as I say!” She hissed in response. Then descended into the passage, alone.

 

VIII

 

Traya found herself walking through a wide, twisting corridor of ancient design. Illuminated by a sinister green glow she gazed about its corridors. Twisted metal pillars scored obsidian walls. The ceiling was coated in warped, grotesque facades of screaming faces and sleeping demons. But the light was dim, and even with the Force as her sight she could not peer into the fathomless shadows that festered in every corner, every crevice, leaving dark stains on the walls.

 

With a sudden gasp she whirled around, igniting her lightsaber.

 

For what seemed like an age she stood there, like stone, transfixed on a dark space, breath caught in her throat. She had seen something. For a moment the shadows had moved, shifted. She had seen a tall, dark spectre drift past in the corners of her sight; she had glimpsed a bone, white mask. But she no eyes to see the light, no eyes to be tricked. What she had seen, she had seen through the Force. And it had seemed faintly familiar.

 

With a brief fizz her blade was sucked back into its metallic hilt. The dark side was strong in this place, and at times it manifested in corporeal forms, she must not be fooled. The shadowy corridor soon opened up into a larger chamber, and at its far side rested a sarcophagus, vertical to her. Suspended on thick chains above it, were large, green, glowing crystals, clasped in black claws. She could sense Sith magic resonating from them.

 

“Force crystals.” She murmured. Imbued with the power of the dark side, but what their purpose was she could not fathom.

 

Whatever she needed here, it was in that ancient coffin. For a moment she wondered if it housed the body of the Emperor himself. But dismissed the notion, the Emperor was alive, she could feel his presence. It was in the storms themselves.

 

As she grew closer to the sarcophagus the air seemed to grow colder, and the crystals seemed to glare. As she reached the coffin she found it strangely devoid of any markings or patterns that commonly adorned the resting places of Sith Lords. She glanced at the crystals for a brief moment, and reflected back at her she saw a face. A cracked, ruined face. A broken face that burned with hatred and pain. She gasped, like she had gasped at the shifting spectre, and let her hands fall on the sarcophagus to steady herself. And then all went black.

 

*** *** ***

 

Traya found herself caught in a battle of wills with a foreign entity. The moment she had touched the sarcophagus a powerful presence had assailed her, attempting to drive her from her own consciousness. But Traya fought back, through nothing other than sheer will she struck out at the intruder, pushing it from the depths of her mind and forcing it out into the open.

 

She was no longer in the crypt, but on an otherly plane. A thick, purple darkness extended in every direction. Dark, wispy tendrils weaved through the inky cloud like lost spirits. But she was not alone, before her stood another. A human female garbed in dark orchid and black, the robes of a sorcerer, ancient and unnatural. Thick, black, matted hair streamed from her cowl, pulled over a delicate, pallid face. Her eyes burned yellow.

 

“I am beaten.” She confessed, the words dropped from her black lips in a hoarse whisper. “You have beaten me.” She raised her hands, edging slightly away in a gesture of peace.

 

“Who are you, spirit?” Traya demanded. “And why do you assail my mind?”

 

“I am Darth Lokess.” She proclaimed proudly, regaining some composure. “Once a member of the Dark Council, now an imprisoned spirit, shackled by my Emperor for plotting against him. I had hoped to take control of your mind, take your body, so I could take my revenge. But I see know what you are stronger. How many years have passed? The Sith have grown more powerful since my death.”

 

“I am not of your Empire, sorcerer. I am Darth Traya, Dark Lord of the Sith. I lead the battle against the Jedi, while your Empire hides, cowers, waits in the dark.”

 

“You are a pretender!” Lokess spat. “Only the true Sith, the descendants of the ancient Dark Lords, can lay claim to such a title!”

 

“And yet you betrayed your own Emperor.” Traya rebuked.

 

“He was unfit to rule!” She retorted.

 

“How so?”

 

Lokess became hysterical. “He had become obsessed with power! The moment the Citadel was complete he disappeared. And now he hides from the galaxy, for fear of losing his power, of dying. It has driven him to madness. But I know what he is planning; I know what he did to Nathema! Alone I could not destroy him. So I convinced the other Dark Council members to overthrow the Emperor, so that we might end our relentless exile and wage war against the Republic, against the Jedi, once more. But it was only half of the truth. I only sought to put an end to his insane machinations!”

 

Traya knew this was what she had come for, the knowledge she had unknowingly sought, she could not contain her eagerness. “What? What was the Emperor planning?”

 

The sorcerers’ expression sobered, then smiled, relishing the possession of forbidden knowledge. “He planned to consume all life in the galaxy, destroy all life, like he did to Nathema.”

 

“But that’s impossible; no being could ever possess such power.” Traya uttered.

 

“No. Nothing is impossible with the Force.” With those words she extended a hand. Traya’s sight became awash with blinding light. And she was plunged into a vivid vision.

 

A pain struck her like ice, gripping her chest. Around her, an empty city. Speeders lay strewn in broken heaps; streets were coated in the thin dust of abandonment. A cold air brushed against her skin, almost real. And everything was silent, dead. She tried to reach out with the Force, but...

 

“It’s gone!” She gasped. “The Force is gone.”

 

“Do you see now?” The voice of Lokess echoed in her mind, an ethereal whisper. “Do you see what the Emperor is capable of? This was once his homeworld, and he desecrated it. This will be the fate of the galaxy if the Emperor is not stopped. A galaxy without the Force.”

 

For a moment Traya was silent. Taking in the magnitude of her surroundings. The Emperor, somehow, had stripped the planet of the Force. Here it held no power, no will it could exert. For a moment she felt her shackles broken, for a moment she was free.

 

“It is beautiful.” She whispered.

 

“What are you saying!” Lokess hissed. “Don’t you feel it? It’s a void! The Force is gone!

 

“Precisely. It is beautiful!” Traya repeated, detached, rapt in what she was seeing.

 

But suddenly the vision ended, and she found herself once more in the purplish abyss. With the shackles of the Force binding her again. And the spirit of Darth Lokess with her bright, yellow eyes ablaze with fury.

 

“You are insane!” She screamed, pointing an accusing finger. “You have the Emperor’s madness, you’re diseased! Like him you wish the death of all living things!”

 

“Death?” Traya responded. “There is no victory in such things. I only which an end to the Force, and the freedom of all living things.”

 

Lokess screamed, surrendering to her emotions and assaulting Traya’s mind once more in a desperate attempt to purge her from her own body. But her efforts were in vain; Traya batted aside her attacks with ease and forced the spirit of Lokess out of her mind, banishing her to the depths of Chaos. She heard the Force crystals shatter, echoing with Lokess’ final screams. Consciousness returned.

 

Traya climbed to her feet, then gazed at the shattered crystals that had once bound Darth Lokess, and at the sarcophagus which now housed a hollow corpse.

 

“To be forever shackled by the Force, I thought you might understand.”

 

*** *** ***

 

<“Shut up! Bucket of bolts.”> Duuklaf growled. Ever since their Master had disappeared beneath the statue Threecee had buzzed and beeped each time a beast drew within half a klick. And Duuklaf was beginning to wonder whether astromechs were edible.

 

But this time the droid refused to be silent, continuing to beep and rattle with alarming urgency. Duuklaf could not understand droid speak, slaves are only ever taught Basic or Huttese. But he knew something was wrong. He could hear a faint, unnatural rustling in the trees. He could smell the stench of sweating bodies and crushed plant...

 

The Abyssin leapt to his feet and snarled menacingly, Threecee fell silent. But it was too late, they were already upon them. Shadowy soldiers clad in red and black armour leapt down onto the ledge and fired stun blasts at the pair. Threecee let out a peculiar whine before his systems overloaded in a web of blue sparks. But Duuklaf would not fall so easily, roaring in pain his unnaturally resistant fortitude fought back unconsciousness. The dark side, funneled into his blood from the flesh of dead acolytes, fed his growing anger. In a bloodthirsty fury he attacked the soldiers, eviscerating and amputating like a deranged surgeon. But as he hacked the soldiers to pieces, more dropped down to replace them and the ledge became illuminated in flashes of blue light.

 

Seven soldiers were killed before the fierce Abyssin succumbed to the stun blasts, and several more injured. Soon after, a muscled Sith warrior emerged from the trees, no doubt he had been watching the battle from afar with sadistic curiosity.

 

Two grey vessels emerged from the endless forest expanse, rising up into the tinted sky with a cargo of prisoners, one Abyssin and one astromech. They lurched forward in unison towards Citadel, the Abyssin had proven himself to be dangerous enough to be sealed with its obsidian walls and there he would be tortured by the Emperor’s personal servants. And the astromechs databanks would be spilt and searched. But unbeknownst to those proud servants of the Emperor, another had boarded the transport. An oversight that would lose them their lives. At her hands, or their masters.

 

 

IX

 

Awaken.” The voice of his master cut through the silence of Duuklaf’s mind, his single eye shot open. His vision was hazy, the blurred room was lit in a dim red and the defining edges of its contents were indistinguishable from the shadows. He was suspended in a containment field. He could feel poisons coursing through his veins, dulling his senses. But his master’s voice was as clear as ever.

 

<“Master?”> He muttered through a numb jaw. A sinister looking, hovering torture droid bleeped softly and drew closer.

 

Do not speak!” She hissed inside his skull. “Only listen. You have been imprisoned deep within the Citadel, the Emperor’s personal fortress on Dromund Kaas. You are trapped within an inescapable labyrinth. But I have followed you here undetected.

 

<“What does master want Duuklaf to do?”>

 

For now – you will do nothing. There are many life-forms here, dangerous life-forms, and I intend to free all of them. Including you. You will escape the prison with the droid, find a ship and await my command. Do you understand?

 

<“Yes master, but...”>

 

Be silent, you know you must do.” And then she was gone.

 

*** *** ***

 

The Citadel’s labyrinth was an insidious maze of pain and darkness. Each mysterious prisoner was sealed behind several metres of reinforced durasteel, yet she could hear them screaming through the Force, she could feel their pain. But she did not flinch as a Jedi would, she fed off their pain, channelled it. But she did not make their pain hers, neither into raw emotion, like many Sith had done before her. Unlike them she saw the importance of controlling ones emotions. For to embrace them fully was to let them control you, to let the Force control you. The mind must remain keen to such dangers.

 

But the dark side had many benefits. It exhumed from this place, from the walls, from the screams. And she channelled its energies into her illusion. To cloak oneself with the Force, without the use of Sith sorcery, was a taxing ability indeed. Through intense concentration Traya manipulated the waves of light and sound that surrounded her, bending them about her presence and so rendered herself invisible, imperceptible even to the most advanced of sensors. It was a rare and powerful technique, but Traya had mastered the ability long ago. For the perceptions of others was just another means by which to manipulate them.

 

The slow, methodical sound of armoured boots on durasteel plating informed her to the presence of a red-clad Imperial Guard approaching round the corner. For a moment she simply waited, and then she struck.

 

Subduing the guard was simple, even before her illusion faded Traya had already begun employing an ancient Jedi technique, Morichro. His bodily functions began to slow, his heart, his lungs. His consciousness quickly faded as the Force pushed him into a trance. The guard collapsed to the floor but Traya slowed his fall so it was almost silent, dropping him softly onto his back. Traya knelt down beside him, sliding of his helmet and placing her hands lightly on his temples. His face was unremarkable, shaven clean of hair and hardened to stone. She would not be gentle, she had not the time to sift through his thoughts and siphon his memories. Instead she violently ripped them from his mind. He did not cry aloud, but she could hear his screams inside, behind that stony façade, as she tore his mind apart and left it shattered. The man was no further use to her, and so she stopped his heart.

 

Traya now held the knowledge of the entire layout of the Citadel’s labyrinth, the prison access codes, the guard schedules, even the prisoner’s individual dossiers. The guard had memorised much. But she had precious time, when the guard failed to report others would come to investigate, the body would be found, and the alarm would be raised. Her newfound knowledge told her she had only a few clicks before that happened.

 

Propelled by the Force and concealed from sight, Traya moved swiftly and silently through the labyrinth, the maze had become clear to her, she did not hesitate. But as the reinforced blast doors to the prison control centre melted away before her, she knew she had little time left and one last obstacle to overcome. A squad seven guardsmen protected the buzzing consoles and flashing holopanels, completely unaware of her presence. Traya unleashed lethal web of orange lightning upon them, Force drain, a technique learned from Malachor V. It ripped past there heat resistant armour and sucked the very life out of them. Those closest died instantly while the others, unscathed, rushed to tackle their now visible foe.

 

But despite their training, they were no match. Even as a Jedi Consular Traya had seen the importance of the lightsaber, she had mastered the elegant form of Makashi, the way of the Ysalamiri. And combined with the acrobatics of Ataru she had become formidable and deflected violent blows from the guardsmen’s’ electrostaffs with minimal exertion. Unperturbed two guards broke from the group and pressed the offense, and she allowed herself to be pushed back towards the door anticipating their attempt to corner her. For a moment, she humoured them. As they backed her into a corner, as they leapt forward for a killing blow. But with perfectly executed footwork she avoided their trap and slashed their weapons in two, then slashed them both across the chest.

 

Three more guards charged into the fray to replace their fallen comrades, attempting to press her back into the corner. But propelled by the Force she leapt clear of their attacks and followed with a telekinetic throw, cutting one down. And another stabbed through the chest as the weapon snapped back into her hand. The two remaining combatants, desperate to end the conflict, rushed at her with aggressive spinning strikes. But even in their desperation the onslaught was perfectly timed, perfectly co-ordinated. In a split-second she realised the first strike intended to aggressively disarm her and the second to disembowel.

 

But she also saw its weaknesses.

 

Instead of falling back on a hasty defence as they had expected, she launched herself into a reckless assault. But her first opponent adjusted in a moment, preparing to parry her incoming blade and knock it from her hands. But instead his staff passed through nothing.

 

Traya had deactivated her blade seconds before impact; the guardsman overextended and received fatal a stab in the back. The second attacker, fazed only momentarily, continued his assault, an aggressive down-cutting slash. But Traya didn't even raise her blade, instead she watched as the guardsmen was lifted inches of the floor and crushed by the Force. He collapsed, broken. She felt a brief smile creep across her face, it had been some time since she had tested herself against skilled opponents – and she was content in the knowledge that her skills were still unrivaled.

 

Traya slipped into meditation, rebuilding her strength and refocusing her mind. She had beaten the clock, only moments ago the guardsmen were scheduled to report in. But to report in here. With only herself and the corpses strew across the room to receive it, they would go unheard. Traya had been faintly surprised by the lack of security the Citadel prison possessed. No holocams, no motion sensors, no auto-turrets. Just the Emperor’s Imperial Guard, durasteel walls and hovering sentry droids. The Emperor was so self-assured in his own power and his inescapable maze that he saw no need for such measures. Or perhaps he wished what transpired here to go unmonitored. Either way, its security would soon be tested to its limits.

 

X

Duuklaf let out another electrified scream.

 

“Tell me!” a purple faced figure yelled, her crimson helmet lay on a metal table beside her, along with an array of instruments of torture. The woman had dismissed the spherical droid, preferring the ‘personal’ touch. Her face had a cruel appearance. Her blonde hair, tied back in a harsh bun, revealed her angular features twisted in anger. She abruptly turned her back on the prisoner, attempting to recompose.

 

“We know you came to aid the terrorists escape.” She said in a more measured tone, her back still turned. “Kaas City is under quarantine, you ignored our transmissions. You intended to smuggle the terrorists, the murderers of Grand Moff Vesh, off Dromund Kaas so they could continue to insult the Empire!” She paused, turning round to face Duuklaf again.

 

“You know where they are hiding. So tell me, where are they!” The demand was accentuated with a powerful electric current that wracked the Abyssin with pain. She had increased the voltage to maximum power, but she knew it wouldn’t kill him. Abyssins had remarkable regenerative abilities and even now her prisoner’s body was repairing the damage the electrical torture had caused. But it could not fight the pain.

 

<“Duuklaf”> He gasped haggardly. <“Duuklaf is no terrorist, Duuklaf don’t care about your stupid Empire.”>

 

“I will make you care!” She hissed in his face, snatching up a syringe from the table. With a fierce jab she stabbed the needle into her victim’s thick, green neck and injected the glowing red contents into his bloodstream. The Abyssin screamed inhumanly as his body began to convulse, froth erupted from his mouth and his single eye rolled into the back of his head.

 

But his screams were drowned out abruptly by a deafening claxon sound. The dim torture chamber became alight with flashing red alarms. But the noises were secondary, Duuklaf’s containment field had suddenly deactivated and the Abyssin crashed to the floor. The guardsmen leapt backwards to avoid collision.

 

The impact of cold durasteel slamming into his face was enough to startle Duuklaf out of his stupor. His body had already begun to push out the poisons; the convulsions were beginning to fade. Pain replaced with anger. Drowned in a tempest of rage fuelled by the dark side. Instinctively he lashed out at the red-booted foot in front of him, gripping hold of an ankle and pulling his torturer to the floor. She let out a wild cry and attempted to roll away, kicking out with a foot, catching him in the jaw. But Duuklaf was fast; as she attempted to draw out her electrostaffs he leapt upon her and tore out her throat. He began tearing at her armour, eager to devour flesh. But his feasting was interrupted.

 

One-eye!” A voiced hissed in his head. “I have given you freedom and you waste it? Foolish beast. Remember what I commanded of you.” Duuklaf’s mind suddenly became awash with knowledge as Traya poured the labyrinth’s designs into his primal skull.

 

“I have given you all I can and shall give you no more. See that you do not waste it.”

 

And then she was gone. Duuklaf leapt to his feet without hesitation. Threecee was being held in another chamber, not far from his. The durasteel door had been unlocked and he slipped into the corridor. It was empty, flashes of red light briefly penetrated the darkness. He could hear the faint clattering of footsteps, cries of alarm, beneath the blaring sirens. Just then two guardsmen rounded the corner and caught sight of the escaped prisoner, breaking into a charge.

 

His primal rage had begun to dissipate but upon seeing the crimson armour of the woman who had tortured him, it burst forth once more. He let out a savage snarl and leapt into action, sense, sight, smell and reflexes all enhanced by his dormant dark side power. But the Emperor’s Imperial Guard were elite killers, armed with deadly weapons, trained to fell the most powerful opponents. They came at him with sweeping strikes, the electrified butts of their staffs bludgeoning his muscled flesh, knocking him to the ground. But Duuklaf was only stunned, moments after hitting the floor he leapt back up. Tackling a startled guard backwards and pinning him to the floor. With clenched claws Duuklaf began slamming his fists into the guard’s armoured chest, armour crumpling under each savage blow, the satisfying crack of ribs shattering and a haggard cry as they pierced his lungs fuelled his fury.

 

The second guard attempted to bat the Abyssin away with a blow to his undefended sides, but Duuklaf spun away so the blow hit nothing but air. But the guardsman had adjusted to the Abyssin’s unnatural agility and anticipated the move. With a rapid spinning twirl he brought the staff back around to strike Duuklaf in the right temple, his thick skull absorbed the impact, but sent him crashing back to the ground.

 

But before the guardsman could deliver the coup de grace a violent burst of energy swept him of his feet and sent him flailing across the corridor. As his trapped in an invisible whirlwind he was flung about the walls like a rag doll and finally crumpled against the corridors end with a sickening crunch. Duuklaf rose up on his elbows to look at the unknown attacker. A maddened Sith Lord, eyes ablaze, skin corrupted, posture that of a bloodthirsty creature. Duuklaf slowly climbed to his feet, mimicking his opponent’s stance.

 

But before Duuklaf could react the Sith Lord thrust out a hand and from it a bolt of purple lightning raced across the corridor and slammed into his chest, sending the Abyssin sprawling backwards in a crackling heap. With a frenzied cry the insane darksider leapt across the breadth of the corridor like a rakghoul pouncing on its prey. But at the last moment Duuklaf kicked out with his powerful legs, striking him square in the chest. The Sith was flung upwards, his body slamming against the ceiling with a crack as his neck was snapped in two. Duuklaf rolled aside as the corpse collapsed to the floor. Through the deafening alarms Duuklaf could hear the fain clatter of Imperial guards approaching, with a final glance he surveyed the scattered bodies, savouring their deaths, then sprang into action. Racing down the corridor, round the corner, and straight into an orange astromech. The droid collided into his legs and sent the Abyssin toppling over him, he hit the floor for a fourth time.

 

“Dweeet dweet deweet! Threecee rattled as Duuklaf clambered to his feet.

 

<”Shut up, droid! We have to go, now!”> He growled, yanking the droid in the opposite direction. The guardsmen were nearing and they needed to reach the landing pads.

 

Moments later the Abyssin and the astromech were caught in a blizzard of blaster fire. As the pair neared the docking platforms they had been flanked by crimson, blaster wielding Imperials. But even blaster bolts could not compete with Duuklaf’s alarming agility. The same could not be said for Threecee who scuttled along behind him, zigzagging down the corridor as stray needles of plasma attempted to impale him. But they could see the platform entrance ahead.

 

“Faster!” Duuklaf cried. Then more painfully as a blaster bolt struck his shoulder, for a moment he stumbled and the astromech shunted into him. In an awkward leap he sprung forward into a forward roll and then slammed a claw on the blast door controls, they slammed shut just as Threecee whizzed over the threshold.

 

With an agonised grunt Duuklaf clambered to his feet and staggered across the open platform the jutted out of the vast Citadel.

 

<“Empty!”> He snarled. For the circular landing pad up head for a devoid of any spacecraft.

 

<“Dweet dweet dweeeeet!”> Threecee rattled, shunting into Duuklaf’s legs. Duuklaf spun round to swat the droid aside but was stopped by the high pitch whirring noise of a laser cutter. Molten white sparks had begun erupting from the sealed door. Duuklaf growled low, then scrambled towards the edge of the landing pad, swinging his head over the side and clutching onto the angular sides. His single eye stared out into the shadowy abyss below, a great rocky chasm, sparsely mottled in foliage, lay between the Citadel and the city itself. The only way to get across was aerially, or...

 

<“Droid!”> Threecee rattled towards him, eager for an avenue of escape. As it drew near Duuklaf thrust out with a claw and grabbed hold of the astromech’s extendible neck. Threecee wailed in protest as Duuklaf yanked him towards the edge. And wailed even louder as Duuklaf flung himself backwards over the ledge, still clutching onto Threecee, grabbing onto the side as he fell, then swinging himself at the platforms slanted support pole. As he did he let go of the edge and flung the astromech into the air. Reaching out with his now free hand he grabbed the pole then caught Threecee in his other claw. Then let himself slide down the pole towards a cluster of rocks below.

 

At the last moment Duuklaf swung Threecee into the foliage and let go of the pole, landing in a crouch on the rock. Threecee began to beep loudly, far from impressed at being tossed about like a huttball.

 

<“Shut up! Shut up!”> Duuklaf hissed. The droid fell silent with a low whistle. Duuklaf’s acute hearing perceived a faint clatter of boot on steel as the guardsmen stormed across the landing ramp, searching for the escaped prisoners.

 

“No sign of the Abyssin or the astromech, sir.” A gruff male voice, distorted by his helmet.

 

“Put the Citadel on high alert, Lieutenant.” A woman’s voice. “And have patrols dispatched to search the city.”

 

“Yes Captain Yarri, sir.” More clattering, and then they were gone.

 

Duuklaf let out a deep sigh. But the welcomed silence was broken by a loud crash as Threecee managed to unceremoniously dislodge itself from the tree. The sound was followed by a quiet beeping and whirring as the droid attempted to right itself. Duuklaf blocked out the sound, he was perched several metres up from the bottom of the canyon. Gazing upward at the glittering city high above him.

 

Threecee rattled up beside him. “Beep bop dweet?” Duuklaf could not translate the droids binary like his master, yet the question did not escape him. What do we do now?

 

<“We climb.”>

 

See page 5 for the final chapters...

Edited by Beniboybling
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