The frustrated young ensign stood at rigid attention, his eyes glued to an imaginary spot somewhere over the left shoulder of his superior officer. He did not move a muscle or even so much as blink as he awaited immediate discipline, clearly expecting the worst.

Surprisingly, for the Imperials had never been known to have velvet-gloved hands, at least not in Palpatine's day, it never came. The officer on deck merely paced around the debriefing room and finally took a seat back at the desk before which he had been standing.

"Did you get the signature of that vessel, Ensign?" he asked mildly. His fingers splayed out on the shining metal of the desk as he waited for a reply. It was not long in coming.

"Sir, yes Sir!"

The ensign opened his mouth as if to offer more, wisely closed it. This was not unheeded by his superior.

"And you have already initiated a trace of it's identity?"

Again came the immediate and affirmative reply, celery crisp. The officer nodded, turned from the ensign, dismissing him with a wave of his hand.

"Two extra watches, over two days," he said offhandedly. "You may go."

The echo of the ensign's boots sounded in his ears as he now opened a line to his superior, none other than the Second officer to the captain himself. A short but extremely informative discourse followed, which ended with:

"A hit and fade tactic was used as the vessel escaped, Sir. This is not something used often by the general populace; found among such riff-raff as smugglers and pirates and so on...."

He trailed; the Second obligingly filled the airspace with an almost offhanded, "Indeed; this is so."

Time crackled along the airways... and the Second returned.

"I have direct orders from the captain," he said without preamble. "Proceed with Chalarian-Echo, phase one. This system is becoming far too... busy for one that is supposed to be not only off the charts, but devoid of life!"

The link snikked to a close as the officer on deck rose from the desk, and from the debriefing room proceeded to the bridge. There he began implementing the delicate maneuvering of the immense super star destroyer into its own particular position in the blockading of Khar Delba and K'eel Doba. He smiled as the Relentless began moving out from where it had been lurking, taking her sister-hounds with her, and finally settled nicely into a high orbit around the extremely tilted planet of Khar Delba. He flipped on a connection to the outside, his lips now quirking as he watched the others begin placing themselves in exactly calculated positions from not just Relentless but from others, forming a gridwork of gleaming death which slowly but inexorably began to close about the planet like the jaws of a vise enclose what it grips. Elsewhere, K'eel Doba was being similarly blockaded.

A bulkhead broke in two as a door whooshed open, spilling Captain Landarian onto the bridge. He strode within and came to a stop, tall and firm, before enabling another switch to display what the officer had been watching onto the general screen. The officer on deck could see his captain's chest swell with pride as all hands jerked their attention briefly to take in that beautiful sight, then returned immediately to their individual tasks to make it so.

The Captain nodded in satisfaction and remained silent. He had his orders...

...which he proceeded to obey. He moved over to the communications officer, and leaned over his shoulder, his fingers busy on the gleaming board in front of him.

"Get me a link to Lt. General Tarnus, at this frequency," he ordered, rising up and giving his uniform jacket a jerk to straighten an imaginary wrinkle.

The ship came out of hyperspace, and Phalomir eagerly looked out the viewport. He stared briefly at the ships orbiting his home world. Ominous and looming, he felt at first a slight fear, then a profound animosity at the beings that would dare intrude upon the masters of the galaxy and challenge their authority over the home planet of the Sorcerers. His thoughts rocketed, ranging from squeezing the life out of the metal monstrosities to totally obliterating the lot.

But it was the Eye that acted.

Phalomir felt a heat rise suddenly within him, his arms involuntary reaching outward. A fiery red energy shot from his hand, through the ship’s hull, and somewhere down to the planet. A strange rippling appeared before the ship and the scenery instantly changed to white whirling of snow.

The ship began to spin as Shayla yelled a disconcerted yelp.

Phalomir collapsed in his chair, gazing at the small hole in the hull, the mighty exterior winds whistling though it.

"Um... can you land it now?" he asked.

"What did you do back there?!" she managed after she stabilized the Supernova. But she never really listened for the response...

...not at that moment anyway. Instead she went to work at starting the landing procedure, praying all along to the gods that her piloting skills hadn't gone to heck over the course of the last couple of years...

Ugghh....

A searing flash of red lanced down from nowhere, ripping into the body of the Dark Lord of the Sorcerers, grasping hold of his essence and taking it under its wing. That which he had taken such pains in learning to control shot back, sending him stumbling back against the glowing crystal he had been idly watching. His horns made a terrible screeching sound as they struck that crystal, the sound reverberating in cadence to the grunt which involuntarily escaped his lips.

Gasping, he turned, his volcanic eyes flying upward, seeking, seeing....

I see it not, but it is clearly there. This cannot be allowed.

Still leaning against the Octahedron, I now splay my hand against it, seeking it's own personal strengths even as She who I once chose used it to bring me forth unto this time. My eyes now explode along with the ravening energies I now channel, reaching outward, sending them back along the exact trajectory from which I had been hit.

Something is hit... lanced like a boil. I sense a distant explosion of sorts, a hazy shadow of a ship comes into my mind, along with an essence of two with whom I have once been acquainted...

"Sir!" His voice rang out stridently. "I am detecting explosions on the surface; and there was a weird energy spike just prior to it! And for a moment I thought I detected that same ship coming back...."

He turned back to his controls as the officer on deck approached and leaned over his shoulder. The superior Imperial frowned, laying a hand upon the console. Indeed, this system was beginning to be a touch wee fiestier than he had ever expected it would be.

The ensign turned his face up to him.

"Shall I send out a probe, Sir?" he asked, his hand hovering.

The officer shook his head.

"We'll sit here and watch. Lt. General Tarnus is due here within the next day; remain at station keeping until his arrival."

"Yessir," came the obedient reply as the young ensign turned back to his post. The officer straightened, his eyes meeting those of the Second who had just entered the bridge.

The blast blew through the same point that the previous hold had made, a larger one now there in its place. The energy deflected off of Phalomir’s glowing hand and shot backwards into the ship. An explosion rocked the ship, and an instant mix of heat and cold flooded the cabin as the winds blew strongly through the new opening.

Phalomir looked behind him and saw a ball of fire finishing its short life. He rose and ran to the back, instinctively calling forth the power of Sith magick to extinguish the flames. The smoke was still thick, concealing the damage, and he ran back to the front to check on Shayla and Erik.

...particularly where that smoke is coming from. We might have a fried motivator or hyperdrive...

...or both. Not to mention the electrical systems are probably shot..."

At that Erik trailed, a thundercloud erupting in his brown eyes. For a moment he stood utterly quiet, then he turned and helped his wife to her feet and starting heading for the hatch, assuming that Phalomir would have the good sense to follow.

"I'd just love to know how you propose we get off this frozen rock of a planet now, considering that even if I could fix the ship, I don't have the parts to do so..."

Guess Shayla gave this ship the right name, unfortunately, he couldn't help but think darkly to himself even as he continued to walk, his wife by his side.

"The two who were here have returned, my son," I intone, striding to where he stands all wide eyes and mute questions. I smile, and lay an arm across his shoulders.

"There is... another with them, my dear Aeylmaar," I begin quietly, giving him a fatherly squeeze. "They have sustained damage to their vehicle; however, this will not prevent their arrival here in Choyapenthe. Although--"

Now I cease to speak, stretching out instead with my suddenly restored powers. I frown; I cannot help but think that perhaps coming to this city was not their first agenda. What that is exactly, even the great power of the All cannot divulge.

"Be prepared, my son," I finish with, and turn back to stare into the depths of the Octahedron. But, not having requested a specific scene to be shown, I see only whirling motes of green and gold, which only mirror the sense of unease which so suddenly begins to rise within me.

And he smiled.

They had indeed landed more or less in the right area. He remembered the crooked peaks to the left, the slope ahead, and peak strangely shaped like an opening hand behind. He performed calculations in his head, walked in large circles, and traced a large rectangle with his boot. Finally he looked around once more and grinned broadly.

“This is it!” he called. Shayla and Erik were still too preoccupied to pay him any mind.

He lifted his arms high into the air and closed his eyes. He felt the energies within him combine with those provided by the Eye, feeding him the power and knowledge to perform the task at hand. He reached outward with his powers, as his father had taught him ages ago, which seemed only a scant few years to Phalomir. He felt the energies slicing through the snow and ice, molding over buried rocks, and sensing the proper triggers. Finally all was in place, and he trained his power downward, all of the triggers clicking at once.

The area completely surrounding the ship began to fall downward, slowly descending into the ice and rock as a cargo elevator in a freighter might when unloading. Shayla and Erik finally broke their concentration and turned gazes to Phalomir, whose hazel eyes gleamed with joy back at them.

She fell silent for a moment then, still clearly surprised, not expecting anything like this to say the very least. With effort she tore her eyes from Phalomir to look at her gaping husband. His eyes all but read "Are you taking us somewhere to fix the ship or get a new one?"

She couldn't help but grin a bit in bemusement at this...

...but it was only for a brief moment. Once more she turned her eyes to the gleaming Phalomir, and she arched an eyebrow, clearly waiting for an explanation as to just what was happening.

Aeylmaar stammered, pointing in utter amazement. Directly in front of him, although less than three meters away, the great Dark Lord of the Sorcerers was nothing more than a fuzz-outlined silhouette.

Directly in front of him, the Crystal Octahedron was exploding into a joyous burst of the purest of gold, shining outward in all directions, sending palpable vibrations out, upward, away....

Elsewhere.

The Dark Lord remained motionless. Then he turned around, the movement slow and with great and unspoken import. His eyes pierced Aeylmaar's.

“This is the entrance to my father’s winter home,” said Phalomir. “This is where he performed his greatest work, and where he hid the secrets he wished me to know when the time came.”

The elevator descended further, picking up its pace. Finally it slowed and stopped, bringing its passengers level with a massive hall. Soft light filled the large room. The far walls were carved with intricate runes and images, large tables held many ornate figurines and busts, and books of all sizes lines shelves set into the walls. Several doors were set into the walls.

The temperature was pleasant, the snow already began falling from the ship. Phalomir still grinned and walked to a table, setting his pack upon it. He turned and called out to the couple, emerald eyes twinkling in the soft lights.

“We may rest here and begin work soon. I will prepare a meal! It is good to be home!”

Phalomir let his joy spread through him, feeling truly happy for the first time since… since before he could remember. A soft warmth in his midsection pervaded, however, and one of the many voices whispering around in his mind urged caution, even as the Eye opened to a possible threat lurking somewhere...

...nor could she help from noticing the tingling of some sort of strange and unspecified tremor in the Force, one she felt frequently along with the flashes of red from her vision. She frowned a moment, wondering at the meaning of it all...

...then turned to Phalomir, noting the way his emerald eyes glowed in happiness...

...

...Emerald eyes...? Weren't they hazel before...?

Shayla's brows shot up in surprise. And although it might have been the lighting she could have sworn that, as she followed Phalomir further inside his father's humble abode, there was the shadow of something that looked distinctly like Sith horns on the wall...

“The food here was sealed in various storage units. It should still be edible, I would wager, knowing my father there is some magick in there as well. I will make us all something.”

He bid Shayla to sit at one of the chairs around the small table in the room while he attended to the food preparation. “When Erik is finished looking at the ship, I would like to show him something that might make him feel better. There is a workshop here which he can use, complete with tools and raw materials. I don’t know if he can find exactly what he would need, but I’m sure various materials can be persuaded to bend and contract. My father was not the only member of the family whose blood held magick.” He pulled a block off of a shelf. “Ah, I hope you like blosch.”

He turned back to Shayla and winked, hazel eyes shining brightly.

"And," he added, "I would like to unload the cargo as soon as possible."

She couldn't stand it anymore. An inarticulate cry came from her lips, and she raised a hand. Then she stepped forward, directly toward the fire licking hungrily before her...

...only to step out into a cooling blast of mist and muted greens. From somewhere in the distance, a haunting cry sounded, echoing as though carrying all the cares of the universe along in that one, solitary note. She stood stock-still, cocking her head, letting herself calm down, hearing her own cry echo in harmony with the fading ululation which finally wailed away into obscurity.

Now she turned, striding across the Dagoban surface, her concentration on one goal only. Rustles and grumbles now came from the surrounding gnarltrees, accompanied by the papery whispers of the white spiders; she utterly ignored the sounds which had once brought her such comfort, and hurried on. And finally she came to her goal.

She paused there before the hunched and crooked grove, lifting her face into the palpable blast of coldness which emanated from it. For a moment she pursed her lips, considering what she had found the last time she had entered therein; the way shown had been so simple, so uncomplicated, so certain.

Now the parameters had changed.

Greatly.

Letting out an involuntary little sniff, she tossed back the flaming nimbus of her hair, getting the tendrils now damp with humidity away from her face. Then she straightened her shoulders, and entered into the shadows between the trees.

"You came back," Wicked observed, cocking his head a bit downward to look at her from beneath his brows. The wondrous luster of his turquoise eyes was darkened a bit by something that approached but did not quite touch upon total madness.

"I missed you. Where did you go?"

Graysith worked her lips a moment.

"I returned to complete my destiny," she began but got no further than that. Dark Lord Roan let out an audible snort, crossed his muscular arms upon the broad expanse of his bared chest. It rippled with the glory of the tattoos of his clan.

"Your destiny!" he managed, shaking his head. And while his lips curled into a grin of mirth, the look he shot to her was one of pure malice and disgust. He moved one foot toward her, leaned forward, his lips curling even more.

"By whose authority?" The words gouged her ears like audible icicles. She shivered, straightened, held out her wrist.

"This," she said simply, holding her head high, watching the foursome in front of her with the greatest of care. Wicked licked his lips, Aelvedaar remained inscrutable, Recinis turned his back and Roan seemed to smile....

"No--" The whimper burst from somewhere deep inside her, finally freed from where she had buried it. She stared in desperate disbelief at the unmarred paleness of her wrist. That glance shot frantically toward the other hand; the flesh there was as unmarked as newfallen snow. Hurriedly she tucked her hands up inside the sleeves of her practice doba, even as deep within her breast the Beast lifted its lips in a warning growl.

Now Lord Roan took another step forward. "And you would lead us into a future of greatness!" he spat. He silenced then, staring down at her, beginning to shake as if being exposed to an almost unbearable affront to his person.

Beside him, Darth Wicked shook his head, took a step forward, laid his hands on each side of her face as he had done one day years in the past, taking up her hair and letting his mind flow into hers.

"I tried to teach you...."

"No!" She jerked back, pulling back from his grasp like a mount freeing itself from bridle and reins, took a step backward, another, and yet another. Her eyes shot to Roan.

"Our daughter...."

He merely snorted, once again crossing his arms in front of himself. "You let him kill me," he finally accused, then fell silent for a final time. At this, Lord Aelvedaar's hand shot out, as if he was about to mediate between them.

"The blood will mingle, as will the lines," he said. "This is so, this I have seen, the Triad shall be One. We all know it to be true."

Darth Wicked let out a maniacal laugh, and pulling out his lightsaber ignited it and began slashing at the gnarltrees. Recinis merely began striding away, as if seeking the shelter of the surrounding swamps. Aelvedaar merely shook his head and held his arms out to either side of him.

"Really, Brother, you know this to be true," he encouraged. Roan just let out something which was a cross between a guffaw and a bellow, then cooled into pure determination.

"For that to occur, She has to die. You know this." His brows lowered even further.

Aelvedaar cast a glance to the ground, keeping it there as though the very mysteries of the universe were unfolding right there between his toes. At last he raised his head. Sun met daylit sky between the pair of them.

"Yes," he whispered, then sighed.

Graysith merely shook her head, faster and faster, remaining mute, the Glyph blazing out against the entities within the grove but not succeeding in doing so much as ruffle a hair on anyone's head. Now she wrapped her arms about herself, found herself backing up, still shaking her head. Something rough and prickly slammed into her back; it was the trunk of one of the trees. She uttered a little gasp, sidled to the side, and backed some more.

The heavy mists of Dagobah were all around. Something large and probably very hungry flapped overhead, disturbing that chill, creating a more striking coldness within it. She shivered, cut her eyes to her wrist, where the Tattoo of Entitlement glowed a warm and comforting gold.

Then she opened a Portal through the All and returned to her chambers, the experience weighing heavy upon her heart.

...and particularly at the notice of his hazel eyes.

WHAT was going on here...?

She frowned a moment then, a disquiet rising for a moment within her at the strangeness of it all. With effort though, she calmed herself and pushed the feeling away...

...even so, she took heed of it.

"Of course," Shayla said simply, getting to her feet. "I shall let my husband know at once."

For another moment she stood then completely silent, a wave of curiosity and that something else rising within her once more. "Phalomir..."

She paused, searching for the words, "How is it that I am to help Thoran. I don't belief I have met either of you and I know little of the Sith...

...or at least, I don't think I do..."

“I do not entirely know what your role in this will be,” he said, “but I do know that when I am freed from this body then I will be unable to aid Thoran. The Eye has a plan, I am sure.”

A sudden tug at his consciousness caused Phalomir to pause. A voice wafted through his mind.

She has returned. Go, speak with her.

“What?” he thought. “Who? How?”

He felt himself ripped from the control of Panthar’s body, then the familiar odd sensations of floating, and found himself in a room, or more precisely a living chamber. He glanced around at the surroundings, noticing the décor, the art, and the mirror… which held the image of a ghostly Sith with a surprised expression… his own.

The sound of the glass breaking on the floor and the brandy spilling made him turn…

----------------

Panthar’s turquoises eyes looked up at Shaya.

Sorta like the eyes on some of those Sith...

The thought gave Shayla pause. Could these be the eyes of the Sith who were now trapped in Panthar's body...?

Snapping back to alertness then, she continued with, "I'll also see that the statues which Phalomir requested us take from the Sith Temple are unloaded."

With nothing more than that Shayla then turned on her heel, beginning to head back towards the damaged Supernova and leaving Panthar behind to make his own decisions on what he would do next.

“Frying meat in a helmet may be good for the gander, but the flock sees what it will. I see much in you that you do not, deep is the cut but severed not is the cord. If I were persuaded and hungry, I could help to redo the knot.”

She blinked as she regarded him, knowing instantly who he was, and with great effort lowered her hands simultaneously with the fires which raged upon her forehead. After a moment she succeeded in closing her mouth, clenching her jaw so tightly that her teeth ground together.

Save for those small movements she remained motionless, taking in Phalomir's two-meter height in one nearly disbelieving stare. Then her eyes raked up and down his body, noting the broadness of his shoulders, the shadowy black robe opened to reveal the exotic curlicues of his clan tattoos, the rippling muscles of his chest, the graceful curve of his flattened and spiralled horns...

...as well as the utterly surprised look in his brilliant emerald eyes.

She opened her mouth.

Nothing came out.

She closed it a moment, clenching her fist now, and took an involuntary step backward. Her parting words to Phalomir neoned into her mind, strobing there with the taunting knowledge that she would never follow through with her earlier threat.

And he more than likely knew it. And how does one destroy a spirit, anyway?

Her mind backed away from that quandary into the relatively saner issue regarding the fact that, spirit or no, he was now standing in her bedchamber. Her mouth worked again, and finally words found release.

...but what was this madness he spoke of even still, and why was there something so strangely yet vaguely familiar about him...?

For even as she turned and looked at the humming Thoran she recognized something of his essence, and indeed it was that very thing that she had felt back on Sullust when Panthar first showed up.

But how could she know this one, he had been a spirit for 4,500 years...

With effort, Shayla forced herself back to reality...

...a thing which she had found herself doing all-too-often as of late. " What is this severage you speak of?" she queried softly. And then, even more softly, "And how is it that you know me at all, for there is 4,500 years between us,and even still I have little knowledge of the Sith, let alone knowledge of their peoples..."

She trailed a moment, her greeny-blue eyes growing impossibly more vague. Then she finished with, "...nor do I have good awareness of just what I have been doing and where I have been for over the past year..."

He turned his gaze back to the Lady.

“Forgive my unexpected entrance, my lady,” he said happily. “I was sent to speak with you.” Quiet whispers filled Phalomir’s mind, and he tilted his head faintly as he listened. He then turned a warm smile to the Dark Lady and bowed his head slightly.

She tilted her head down a bit, unable to keep her eyes from making a quick connection with her wrists before they lifted to once again stare steadily into his ghostly green ones. A small exhalation released some of her inner tensions.

"I found... what I was meant to discover," she finally managed, watching him carefully, taking in stride the fact that he seemed to be fully aware of her recent expedition. Time ticked between them; then--

"I assume this is not why you are here, Phalomir. That is to say, I trust I am addressing Phalomir and not his squire?"

It burns...

...it burns...

...the Eye which Phalomir spoke of, burning bright red...

"It is the Eye of which you speak, isn't it?" she queried point blank. "I know Phalomir says it will somehow help you...

...but are you implying that it can somehow help us both?"

She quieted then, her mind suddenly reeling with hope and desire for answers to the questions which haunted her. "If so, what is I must do?" she queried finally, expecting no less than another riddle in response to her queries...

“You are indeed addressing Phalomir, my lady,” he said. “And no, I did not come here to discuss your private meetings. I am here to inform you that I shall be restored in short order, and would wish to meet with you in person. Literally, rather than in this strange form you now see. Our parting, in my view, was on less than polite terms and I wish dearly to rectify that. I seek permission to travel here in person.”

“Also, my lady, there appears to be a rather massive fleet of ships surrounding Khar Delba. I believe Lady Shayla referred to them as ‘the empire’. I required passage through their blockage, and I’m afraid my temper took hold of the situation – or rather the Eye did. Which is the other matter upon which I wish to speak to you. I feel I may owe an apology to someone on Khar Delba.”

Graysith remained quiet, letting a long pause stretch between herself and the ghostly image which wavered before her. Slowly her hands clasped in front of her, raised up, the index fingers together and pointing upward to lay against her lips as she considered his words.

The Empire was here... well. As apparent a threat as they might seem to be, they were easily outfoxed. A hive of womprats was still that, no matter their number.

And womprats crushed quite effortlessly....

She let her hands drop, gazed steadily into Phalomir's eyes. Then she replied with the only response she really could.

"When you are ready, contact me. You know the manner; I will show you the way. And--"

She paused a moment, catching her lip between her teeth for a quick reflection before hurrying on.

"Be frugal with your apologies, Phalomir, for--"

She swallowed, cutting herself off, and turned from him in sudden and silent dismissal. Once again her eyes became lost in the flames within her hearth, flames entirely reminiscent of a certain someone's fiery eyes.

“Stand as the stars in the southern sky, marking territory with their beams. A shroud veils your thoughts, a tree blocks your river, a mist confounds your dreams. Stand tall, stand quiet, stand trusting.”

Thoran reached a hand towards Shayla. His midsection burned lightly, and a soft red glow formed around his fingers, then radiated out until a mist encircled his hand. A red tendril shot from the mist and into Shayla’s forehead, causing her eyes to widen. The red tendril withdrew quickly, carrying with it a white blob of energy. The mist disappated, and the energy blob shot upwards through the ceiling.

Shayla looked at Thoran, stunned. A feeling of release flooded through her as memories which had been held back just out of reach now burst out and into her mind, bringing back the memories which had blocked by the Dark Lady.

Thoran smiled. “Now we speaking on same tablet, no?”

“For what, my lady?” he asked. “My apologies are meant to be just what they –“

He stopped in mid-sentence. He felt a strange tug somewhere within his spirit, followed almost immediately by a bright light as a flash of energy shot from the ceiling and into the Dark Lady. She staggered for a moment, reaching out to catch her balance on a table.

Phalomir cried out in a startled voice. “My lady! What has happened? Are you hurt?”

If the truth were known, she felt suddenly replete, replinished, somehow more alive than she had mere seconds ago. Instantly recognizing that warmly familiar bolt, she could only deduce that it originated in one of two ways: either it was a fresh influx coming from a source unknown to her, or it was something once originating from her own self, now coming back. The implications in either case were disturbing, to say the least, but she couldn't help but instinctively feel this Sith spirit had a hand in it somehow.

At length she managed to control the urge which trembled deep inside her, one quietly insisting she toss back her head and cry out a yowling welcome with the Beast, and raised her head. Her eyes flashed as she stifled a smile, and quietly rose up from the table over which she had been bent. She turned those darkly shining eyes on Phalomir and stared unblinking into his own.

"I am unharmed," she finally whispered, her face impassive. "Although this is a fact I am certain that you already know."

She paused, straightened further, now looking at him from beneath her brows. She tilted her head to one side in apparent curiosity.

...but only for a moment. For with that returned memory came something else; something utterly heartbreaking, something which took her only a few moments to grasp. For not only had her former memories returned...

...but her recent memories were unmarred as well. And with that came the utterly obvious...

Erik had been right...he had tried to warn her, repeatedly. He had been right...

...and something was afoot. But who was there to trust now, and how could she be sure of Graysith's intentions now when there were two sides to every coin...

Two sides...

“I believe we are on the same tablet now,” Shayla said at last. “I...”

Here she paused her look turning vague and somehow... pained. Then she continued. “...I have been betrayed, though for what precise reason I do not know since there are two sides to every coin. Regardless, I know Graysith well and was once her Adept and chosen sister but now...

...aside from blocking all my memories of the Sith, she herself denies knowing me at all.”

For a moment she fell silent at that, her eyes unseeing as memories of the past swam across her mind’s eyes. Then, "She’s up to something, for indeed she does have a sister...

...and the last time I saw her was the last time I was at K’eel Doba with all my memories in tact. Her disappearance, along with Graysith’s denial of her existence, leads me to believe she doesn’t want her sister found...”

Shayla trailed, her eyes clearing as she reguarded Thoran. Cocking her head slightly then, she finished with, “...but then we must first deal with our current predicament, seeing as for the moment we are stranded here on a Sith world. Why is it that you have restored these memories to me...

...and just what is it you want me to do in turn to assist you?”

He recalled hearing the word 'Empire' before that sudden jolt in the Force swept him up. It was a bad reminder of what Romanus had forgotten...

They're probably still waiting for me. I gotta send a signal or...hell, they can wait a little longer.

Romanus sensed two Dark spirits in the room. One was his host, and the other was unknown. This info, along with this sudden attack (Romanus guessed) on Graysith, made him wonder who this guy was...

“False pretense of concern?” he blurted. “My Lady, I have survived for 4500 years in the gut of a crystal, the most loyal companion I have ever held dear has gone insane while keeping me safe, my spirit is trapped within a human who would rather be horizontal with a barmaid.”

Phalomir straightened his head, his voice rising in volume. “I am at the unwilling mercy of a crystal that has plans yet unknown to me! I have been the instrument of death to the Dark Lord of the Warrior clan, and his infernal spirit now stains the purity of my own!”

His eyes widened. “I have viewed the dwindling history of the Sith while dwelling within the bowels of the library! I have seen the treachery which destroyed my father’s name and led to his murder!”

Phalomir’s eyes glowed a bright emerald, lighting the room in an eerie blaze as his voice intensified further. “I am the rightful heir to the Clan of Sorcerers! My body lies on a cold floor as hard as the stone it is itself made of! I am Sith, My Lady! Every fiber of being and thrumming of energy within me screams to reclaim my place and do away with the insanity I have seen on this world! Yet everything I have done I have done for you! You, My Lady! YOU ARE MY HOPE! MY DREAMS!”

With his final words, Phalomir’s expression turned from hurt and rage to one of realization. The light in his eyes dimmed, and he retreated a step back as his jaw slackened.

“My salvation…”

He took another step backwards.

“My love…”

Another step, then a look of astonishment.

“The Force of All is not dealt as a privilege; it is not dealt as a weapon. Those who would abuse its power must be stripped of it. Power wielded in haste and folly must be undone.”

Thoran’s eyes returned to turquoise. “A trick is nice when tricky is needed, but tricks to play on Thoran are tricky too,” he bleated.

“The lady is not knowing why Thoran needs her, not in knowing the parts she is into playing, did not buy the key which door number one fits. Answering her it is simple, for in all of the universe only one answer but lies…”

Thoran felt a tug at his spirit, and control was ripped from him.

Phalomir’s eyes lost their focus as he contemplated these new memories and realizations. Visions of the Dark Lady circled in his mind, and he reached inward for something to say to bring himself back to reality. The outline of a woman stood closer to him now, and he reached out his hand to stroke her cheek.

“I have always loved you…” he said softly.

...but it burst into volcanic life as Phalomir ended in so utterly surprising a manner. Surprise, however, was the last emotion roiling within the soul of the Chosen Daughter of the Sith.

"You lie!" she seethed, her use of the All forgotten, her hand instinctively lashing out to strike the ghostly shape...

...who only glimmered into obscurity, letting her hand swing out in front of herself with such momentum that she spun around, nearly losing her balance in the process. Shuddering with effort, she brought her anger back under control; then her head jerked up and to the side as a familiar sense came rushing into her.

Romanus... he was waiting without the chamber. He wished to be of use to her; indeed, now was his golden opportunity.

She didn't even deign to call out to him, but sent an image directly into his thoughts: an image of the green-eyed spirit who had so recently stood before her.

"If this one should return to K'eel Doba, or one claiming heritage to the Sorcerers, stop him however you wish to do so," she thought out to the black-coated assassin.

"He is counterfeit, a stranger who seeks to worm his way into the ruling clanship. Be wary, my bodyguard, for he has within him a strange power over which he has no real control. It is highly dangerous... but I believe you have it within you to stand against this adversary."

She then pulled away from Romanus's mind, nodding a bit as though he was directly in front of her and could see her affirmation of his usefulness to her. Before leaving his mind entirely, she let a final warm tendril linger.

"Bear with the hardships, stand beside me, serve me well, and your rewards shall be many."

Then she left his mind altogether and turned round on the spot. Her feet made light shusshing sounds against the stone as she began pacing the chamber, up and down, back and forth. She suddenly stopped, once again finding herself in front of her hearth, staring into the flickering fire, her eyes becoming as dark as the thoughts within her head.

Those eyes...

...turquoise...? So much like...

With a start, Shayla stepped back...

...and back again and again til at length she found herself up against a wall where she could go no further. All the while her eyes remained glued to that turquoise pair in front of her.

“Lady Stargazer! I am… I mean, I… Oh bother!” he said, turning and beating his forehead against the wall.

“I fear my time is short. I must return my spirit to my body immediately, then find a way to return Thoran as well.”

He paused, his head bowed and resting against the wall. He closed his eyes and a small shiver ran through his body. He turned his head slightly and opened a single eye towards Shayla, his thoughts reaching both outward and inward. He closed his eye and again faced downward. A stream of tears flowed down his cheek and splattered on the floor. After a moment he wiped his face with his sleeve and turned back to Shayla, who still stared from a distance, her back to the wall.

“I know what he did to you, that thing which ruled the warriors. He is gone, my lady, have no fear. His kind shall breath no more.”

What Roan had done to her? In all honesty, Roan had never done ANYTHING to her. But to others...

With a start, Shayla refocused on Phalomir's words.

"Through Thoran the Eye has restored my memories of the Sith...

...and of Graysith..."

Here she trailed, here eyes defocusing as her thoughts returned to Graysith's apparent turn on her.

It all seemed so unreal. After all, Shayla had always been more than certain that Graysith loved her as a Sister. But now it was almost as if...

For a long moment, Shayla's mind simply played in slow motion, winding back to her restored memories of Graysith...

...memories which she quite suddenly realized were not all in harmony with one another.

Something had happened, that was the only explanation for this...

But what...?

Again Shayla forced herself back to the reality of the moment...

...and to Phalomir's words. "I fear the Dark Lady may have befallen some sort of ill. The fact she denies knowing me at all...

...the fact she set my husband and I on a course to be deemed murderers of a Sith Lord...

...just doesn't fit with who I knew her to be. Do not be too hasty in judging her...

...especially not so soon."

In his deepening rage while confronting the Dark Lady, he was shown a vision. It was crystal clear at the time, but now he had to struggle to remember small glimpses of it. In this vision the Dark Lady was in great peril, and he was forced to make a decision that would save her. He recalled the feelings he had for her, which were very unlike the feelings he currently harbored, and marveled at the emotions that washed over him at that time. If the Eye had given him this vision, what did it mean? Was it a metaphor? Was it a premonition? Had this already occurred in his life or was it a strange memory of things yet to come?

Phalomir continued walking, lost in thought, until the sound of someone’s throat clearing brought him back to the present. He stopped just shy of banging his head on the ship’s hull, and turned to see Erik and Shayla standing nearby.

A supposed Heir to Entitlement... who claimed to have known and loved her. As had Dark Lord Roan once proclaimed, pretending to be the one instrumental to the All becoming alive in her. Whose very spirit now dwelled within the body hosting the purported claimant to Dark Lordship....

A renewing and unexpected blast of All strength coming in from somewhere surprisingly kept hidden from her...

The Eye of R'lous. What indeed was this mysterious object? Why had not Lord Aelvedaar spoken of it? Could it be that he had foreseen a shadow of these odd happenings that day not too long ago when he had secreted himself once more within Phrinnchatka, that horrible day of the demons, when Shayla's All knowledge had been ripped from her as everyone with the exception of the sorcerer had been ripped from K'eel Doba? Had that indeed been a turning point of sorts...?

The clatter of great claws interrupted her musings, and she lifted her head as M'wonBo'o's unique greeting sidled into her thoughts.

"Come to call in hurry being, time to rend and redness coming, I to She in bonding being," His growl brought a momentary smile to her face.

"Come, my dear and most faithful comanion," she beckoned as she opened the door to her chambers and stepped forth into the sconce-lit corridor without. One slender hand reached out to lovingly tweak one of the tuk'ata's face tendrils; he let out a grumbling purr and butted his head against her slight frame, taking care not to knock her over.

"Shall we go?" she whispered then, and with a wave of her free hand opened a doorway through the All. As she prepared to enter therein, she caught a glimpse of a shadowy figure: it was Romanus, standing a few paces down the hallway.

"Do not forget all that I have told you," she said smoothly, a glimmer of promise darkening in her eyes. Then she turned back to the portal she had opened and, accompanied by M'wonBo'o, departed Phrinnchatka and K'eel Doba altogether.

____________________________________________________

The chamber she stepped into was darkened, lit only by the ghostly green light of the Crystal Octahedron. She moved toward it, stared for a moment into its swirling depths, a deja vu flash of a day three years in the past now rushing foremost into her thoughts. With the impact of that memory came an accompanying rush of chill; M'wonBo'o whined as he sensed this and coiled a tendril about her waist.

She smiled and regained control, laying a hand atop his sleek head.

"I am fine, M'wonBo'o," she said aloud... then whirled as the sense of an arrival washed over her.

He stood before her, his eyes like twin lava pools, his great, sweeping horns casting almost mystical shadows upon the darker shadows splayed out upon the walls of his Inner Sanctum here in the Temple of the Sorcerers. For a long moment they stood, staring in silence at each other: her demeanor somewhat apprehensive, his utterly composed.

"There is yet another," she finally said, taking a step backward and letting one hand swing out a bit to indicate the Octahedron. Then--

"Why did you not tell me?"

My hand fists of its own accord. Indeed, this one is not unknown to me.

"It is the Eye of R'lous," I finally speak, finding it surprisingly difficult to suppress my rising anger. For I have come this close; this one shall not stand in my way. I jerk my head around and pin my Chosen Daughter's brilliant violet eyes with my own.

"It is a device created in secret by a sect of sorcerers," I say in simple explanation. Her eyes widen, but she speaks not, allowing me to continue uninterrupted.

"There was much turmoil in the Last Days, much madness and treachery. A sect branched away from the clan of warriors, claiming true lineage to the title of Dark Lordship, using a failed battle from long in the past as justification, and began working in secret using knowledge passed down among themselves. I had been long aware of them, but they too were seeking to control the All, seeking to use it to regain their claim, and with it then destroy the Triad and control all the Sith. Their magicks are not to be lightly dismissed; as powerful as I am, this was all I have ever discovered about this sect. That and their creation of The Eyes of R'lous."

I pause for breath, and turn back to the image in the Crystal. It continues walking with the one I know as my One's Chosen Sister; they appear to be in something of a hurry.

"The Eyes, from what little I could actually deduce to be fact, are devices which act as a control of the All. Much as the Claw of S'slan which I have given you, Jharmeen."

A smile flickers about my lips as I see her reaction to this, my first use of her human name. I continue.

"There was a... a race at the End Times, to see who would successfully use what All knowledge that had been discovered; at least this is what I can deduce from what I now know. It would appear that, while I have 'won,' so to speak, by going forward into the future to find you, they used their budding strengths to travel backward, to place the Eyes where they could later reclaim them."

I pause once more, and turn back to her. She is silent, her eyes growing into huge inky pools in her face, the Rune I have implanted within her a raging star on her pale skin. Once more I reach out to her, as I have so long wished to do.

"It would appear we have an enemy, my dear," I end, stepping forward another step, and yet another, and finally take up her small hand in my own. I stare down upon her.

"I am the true Dark Lord of the Sorcerers," I whisper, and fall silent before the rising rumbles of her Blood-Hunt Companion.

... Sith...?

...approached him.

"Well, unless we've got something to repair the circuitry in the Supernova, I'd say we have a major problem," he said, trying to keep his voice even as he spoke.

Then, "We got you here...

...I hope you intend to get us off this blasted rock in return."

For a moment then he stood silent, leveling a brown eyed gaze with Phalomir. "I suppose you came back looking for these," he ended with, tilting his head towards the Phalomir's statues, which he had already unloaded from the wounded Supernova.

He studied the cylinder on the left, noticing the ridges, the texture, and the patterns around the sides. He then knelt to the closest statue and studied the hole in the chest. He sighed and moved to the other statue. After a careful examination, he placed the left cylinder inside the hole in the chest. He then moved to the first statue and slid the remaining cylinder into that hole.

Phalomir stood and turned to Shayla and Erik.

...and just in time to see that Erik was getting ready to say something...

She called me her bodyguard...

He strolled down the hallway, still grinning. Romanus has finally gained something he long desired: someone to control him, someone to order him around. Many people would have frowned on such an idea, but Romanus couldn't be any happier. He was no longer aimlessly hunting down bandits or wanted criminals for money to waste with.

Romanus had purpose, the one thing he lacked ever since he was kicked out of the Army. He was designed as a weapon and now he's going to be used as one....well, for protection at least.

And she has so much faith in me...

"What can we do?" she asked after a bit, choking on the pronoun even as she tilted her head toward the magnificent Octahedron. That mystical device was still showing events happening elsewhere on Khar Delba; now it showed the human Panthar smiling to himself in a smug manner, the two statues laying before him like completed jigsaw puzzles. Her eyes flicked to Aelvedaar's, and back to the crystalline machine.

The Sorcerer merely came up beside her, one hand indicating the image displayed before them.

"It is a simple Sith magick," he finally stated, nodding briefly then letting his hand drop. The sleeves of his robe fell down to cover them as he clasped them before him. "And will separate the one who opposes... us--"

He seemed to hesitate a bit at the word, then smoothly continued.

"--from those innocents who have nothing to do with his agenda. We shall allow him to regain his true form; Jharmeen--"

Again he paused, now turning to Graysith and taking her by the shoulders. She lifted her violet eyes up to meet his, which burned through her like a shot of molten lava.

"Has he spoken with you, told you his name? Acted against you in any manner?"

Graysith blinked, and finally found her voice.

"He called himself Phalomir, son of Trelanicus," she managed in a low voice, then quieted. "I was once struck by a red lance coming from him, and just recently received a rejuvenating blast of All-power whose origin yet remains undetermined."

Aelvedaar only nodded in reply, clearly expecting something like this.

"Take a care, Jharmeen," he finally said to her. "Trelanicus was a most powerful sorcerer; I expect his son to have inherited his natural abilities. He also has possession of at least one of the Eyes of R'lous; your Claw will protect you from any attack he might initiate against your body, now that you are forewarned--"

She swallowed suddenly, feeling a tingling sensation with that object even as Aelvedaar spoke of it. It was as if it were somehow bonding directly with her thoughts, her feelings, her very essence....

Now his clawed hands dug even deeper into her shoulders, pressing there with a certain unspoken urgency.

"--but I cannot say the same thing about your heart. You have been hurt, haven't you, my dear?"

Graysith merely closed her eyes, fisting her hands as another series of tremors raced through her. M'wonBo'o rumbled in a warning manner, lowering his head and pinning his eerie pupilless eyes upon the Dark Lord.

Aelvedaar nodded.

"Take a care, my Chosen One," he again repeated. "For we face an extremely cunning adversary, as well as one who is in possession of an Eye. I feel he will do anything... use anyone ...to obtain his goal. I will watch from here and intervene as I can, but the Eye is powerful.

"As was the charisma of Trelanicus, or so I have heard."

Now the Sorcerer gave Graysith's shoulders a final squeeze, and stepped back.

"Take a care, Jharmeen," he repeated a final time before turning from her altogether to face the Crystal.

Graysith remained still for a moment, silently considering all Lord Aelvedaar had said. Then she reopened the portal through the All and returned to K'eel Doba, a still-grumbling tuk'ata pressed closely against her side.

He closed his eyes and sighed deeply.

“If you are there,” he said quietly, almost whispering, “know this. I make no claims to vengeance, no personal desires to any throne. I only wish to understand what has happened and know my part within the events to come.”

He opened his eyes and looked around again, not entirely satisfied. Sighing again, he turned and kneeled at the largest of the statues. He placed his hands on the arm and closed his eyes once more.

“Well, father,” he thought to himself, “now what?”

The words of the Eye, or his father, or perhaps it was a demon, came wafting back to him.

You must be Sith to return. Thoran’s madness rends his will, his salvation lies within the Stargazer

“I must be Sith to return…” he thought. He let his thoughts drift, remembering the events leading up this point. The flash of red light, opening eyes which were not his yet seeing clearly though them, the starship trips to Sullust, K’eel Doba, and then here, the encounters with the Dark Lord, and the Lord’s true mate.

One Eye to embrace the magick, One Eye with the key to all, One Spirit to feed them, One son to rule

Why had this been said to him? What was the meaning?

His thoughts drifted to the Dark Lady, the one jewel he had discovered since his return from the past. Jewel? Why had that word come to his mind? He had tried to show her respect, understanding, even friendship. Strange circumstances thwarted his every encounter with her, and now he had been shown even stranger visions of feelings he did not harbor, nor ever had to his knowledge.

He was a pawn in some strange game of powerful magicks, an unwilling soldier in a battle that was lost centuries ago. He was caught between loyalty to his family’s name and cognizance of the present situations, and somewhere within he was expected to do the bidding of a piece of rock stuck in his gut! Could this be the fate of one who had traveled through so many years and endured such loss?
Yes, that is the way, boy. Let your anger flow. Use it, control it….

The demon’s voice flooded his mind, searing his thoughts. He screamed internally, blotting out all thoughts with a dark red canvas of power…

Only to find himself sitting in a field of bright flowers, a cool breeze blowing through his hair. The sun was shining brightly, birds sang in the distance. Across from him sat a large, old Sith dressed in flowing robes. The Sith pulled back his hood, revealing the face of Trelanicus.

"This way." his guide said, motioning Romanus to follow. The Jedi followed him across the armory, staring at the armoured suits. They look similar to stormtroopers, but seem to be more imposing. In fact, the faceplates on the helmets were impossible to see through, making the soldier look like a faceless creature...

Hey, I've seen this design before! Back in the old history books about the Sith War...

Finally, his guide stopped in front of a wall that had several compartments sticking out of it. With a wave of his hand, one of the compartments slipped out and landed gently onto the floor. Romanus peered inside to discover his belongings there.

"Huh. Thanks, mate." he said, slapping the guide's shoulder. He then kneeled down to gather his weapons together...

“Where are we? What am I doing here?”

“You are in the Eye, my son. I am here because you called for me. There is much to speak of, and little time.”

Phalomir stared into his father’s eyes. After so long, he wished to run to him and hold him once more. But he remained sitting, eyes staring and muscles relaxed. “Why did you do it, father? Why did you imprison us in the Eye?”

“I did not imprison you, my son. I tried to save you from my fate. The Warriors were arriving, I had no time to both complete the Eye and take you to safety.” Trelanicus looked down. “So I did what I could to accomplish both at once. Forgive me.”

Phalomir’s eyes widened at these words. “The Warriors? But it was the Sorcerers, was it not? And both at once?”

Trelanicus looked up. “The Warriors were the assassins, my son. The House of the Warriors had decayed into treachery, deceiving the Sorcerers and the Armorers, and had entered into secret dealings with another race. A race of dark warriors, users of a force very different from our own magicks. I knew what they wanted, and they would not possess it.”

“Your research?”, said Phalomir.

“My research, yes. But that was just the tip, my son. I had done it. I had broken the barrier and tapped into the power beyond the magick. I had seen the All Force, had touched it. And I feared what others would do with it, so I vowed to never let its knowledge pass to another.”

“The Eye…” wondered Phalomir.

“The Eye is a device, only that. It was created to focus the magick of the Sith, to pull power from the surrounding planets and channel it to the sorcerers. I added my knowledge, and it became more.”

Phalomir nodded. “It is a device to prevent the All Force from existing?”

“I needed to give the Eye sentience. It needed a soul, a mind to keep watch. And a spirit with which to bond.”

“Thoran?” asked Phalomir.

“No, my son. You.”

“Me? What do you mean, father? Thoran went insane inside the Eye keeping me safe!”

“Yes, he did. But it was not necessary. You are one with the Eye, your power is within it, as its power is within you.”

The weight of these words hit Phalomir. His best friend had gone insane for no reason? He himself was the power behind the Eye? What did this mean? More questions, again!

“What must I do now, father?”

“Find the other users of the All Force. Bring them together and tell them, the knowledge will come to you when you need it. One Eye to embrace the magick, my son, is found deep within this planet’s main city. He rules the sorcerers. One Eye with the Key to All rests upon the Graysith – do not look perplexed, you know her already, follow your heart. One spirit to feed them is trapped within the Eye, imprisoned when you defeated the dark lord. Unity shall follow.”

Phalomir waited, but no more words came. “And what of the son to rule them all?”

“I authored only what I have spoken, my son.”

Phalomir stared at his father.

“I do not understand why I am the one who must perform this. You are but an image sent to me from the Eye, you are not my father. How do I know you do not deceive me? How do I know you are not the demon who once ruled the Warriors? How do I know I have not gone mad myself and dream with Thoran? What is the son of an ancient sorcerer doing in these times? Why must I seek people who mean nothing to me? Why should I have my heart and pride toyed with by a human female? I should answer to no-one! I am the son of the Dark Lord! I am powerful! I am SITH!”

The field faded before him, and Phalomir suddenly felt the cold floor beneath his back. Dust fell into his eyes as his eyelids snapped open. His muscles ached, his pulse raced. He tried to clear his head from the myriad of images and sounds, but it was the gasp and sudden elated scream from the human male kneeling next to him that brought him to reality.

He shall not change that which I have vowed will surely be.

...only when she got there it was to find no more statues...

...but instead two stirring Sith forms and one very wide-eyed Panthar. Shayla's greeny-blues widened; she knew this would be coming, but she hadn't expected it quite so soon...

With some effort, she focused her thoughts enough to stretch out with the Force, analyzing the well-being of the three males. The two Sith seemed to be fine...

...but Shayla wasn't certain about Panthar. He seemed very much shocked.

She hurried to him, ready to use her healing abilities if they were needed. "Are you okay?" she queried as she laid a hand on his arm, trying to bring him to some semblance of reality...

He gathered himself and stood, stretching his arms and legs. He shook his head, letting his hair fall in front of his face. Laughing, he ran his hand through the hair and pushed it back over his horns.

Wait….

Horns….

Long hair….

Red hands….

“Much surprise comes when one is feeding from the top, only to find the sow is upside-down,” Thoran whispered in his small human voice.

Thoran felt alone, lost without the company of his liege or Panthar in the human shell. But he was comforted when a familiar voice circled through his thoughts.

Thoran, your destiny lies elsewhere. Seek the key, you know where

“Of course,” he whispered, “and the Stargazer shall be the salvation.”

Thoran looked to Shayla, who was right beside him.

"Oh, hello Stargazer. Our friends have parted from my mind."

He leaned close to her ear.

"Tell me later of the Graysith, but not so they will hear. The large one is not yet ready for this knowledge, and the shorter one is insane. He thinks he is me."

She had thought the All was simply that: all forces, all encompassing, omnipotent, to be used with care and forethought. But apparently it was not indefensible; yet another device existed, two of them, which turned the abilities of her Claw from that of offense to simple defense in their presence.

The Eyes of R'lous... channeled....

Now she paused in mid-step. She blinked, tilting her head a bit to one side as she considered further.

Only the All can stop the All. The Eyes channeled it... apparently sapping that which they needed from the user for the moment, only to...

...return that energy to it's point of origin?

Her head jerked up and her eyes flashed as small clues clicked neatly together.

That blast of All power: a strong one, yet not large. Returning to her... when had she last used this?

Shayla....

Her lips thinned into a hard white line as the certainty of Shayla having her memories restored slammed into her. Possibly the memories of her companions as well, although she doubted this to some extent as the impacting charge of All-strength had not been a large one.

She thought of her goal. What she had planned to attain it, the stepping-stones she had carefully laid down. Many were now ripped from the early foundation; she frowned again and once more started moving down the corridor.

The warriors now followed her. The rebellious sect, however, would not. This had to be discovered, weeded out and crushed. But who were they? Where did they hide? And of greater importance, who were the mysterious dark warriors with whom they had allied themselves during the End Times? Did they still exist in isolated cells somehow kept alive throughout the galaxy and across the yawning gulf of four thousand years? Or were they in turn slain as the dark jedi swarmed over the Sith worlds?

She stopped dead in her tracks. Two tiny clues wrapped around her mind to snap neatly together.

Dark warriors... dark jedi....

Could it be?

Romanus....

Her eyes now flashed darkly, the Glyph raising its unvoiced symphony on her forehead, splashing the stones about her with its eerie violet light.

Another task. He shall indeed prove his worthiness, shall prove where his loyalties lie. For the warrior sect and whatever remnants of allegiance they yet had simply had to die.

Unless....

She smiled to herself as a fresh idea burst upon her. Nodding in satisfaction, she continued moving down the hallway, her footsteps, now sure and strong, now leading her completely out of the Temple and into the waxing light of early morning. Through the quiet streets of Phrinnchatka she glided like a wraith, her destination the Great Library of the Sith.

Which she came upon in but a short time, her eyes flashing even more darkly and her lips pursing in anger to see it closed for repairs.

And that probably was the truth of the matter.

But Shayla didn't have words at the moment to give him to reassure him, for she was puzzled herself.

He thinks he is me? Me who? What is going on here?! And why was Panthar asking to know about Graysith? He wasn't acting like himself at all, rather he was acting more like...

Frowning at this thought, she pinned Panthar with her greeny-blues, her eyes demanding an answer to the question which she was about to ask.

"What do you mean, he thinks he is you?" she queried first. Then, leaning in and speaking very softly so that her next words would be heard by him only, "And what exactly is it you wish to know regarding Graysith, and why?"

“I mean that he thinks that he is me. Thoran is insane, you know. He woke up and shouted that he was in the wrong body. It is sad, really. I feel so elated to be free of them both, yet it pains me to know of his madness.”

The larger Sith was still stirring, trying to rub something out of his eyes. The smaller was prancing about, alternating between holding his head in his hands and mumbling something about cruel fate.

Finally the larger Sith moved to a kneeling position and stretched his powerful muscles. The smaller looked up at him.

“This is all your fault!” he shouted. He ran to the larger Sith and began kicking at him. The larger Sith caught a leg in the air and brought the smaller Sith down to the floor with a crash.

“Thoran, be calm!” he shouted. “You are freed! Rejoice!”

“Thoran? Thoran, my pasty gonads, you big red freak! I’m Panthar! Panthar! Your stupid Eye messed up, you brainless womprat!”

Then she looked back to Panthar, biting her lip in thought. "You know it doesn't matter how much we restrain him," she said suddenly then, "If his insanity cannot be cured...

...then he could be a danger to any one of us at any time."

She paused again, her look thoughtful as she considered something. "I have some healing powers, but healing the body is not like healing the mind. I could at least put him into a healing trance for a bit, if only to calm him and keep him from hurting anyone here til we can think of something to better help him."

With that said, Shayla stood as did Panthar. She walked towards the larger Sith and her husband, who had managed to at least restrain the confused Thoran...

...and knelt right beside the frantic smaller Sith. He looked at her, his eyes full of confusion and anger...

...and perhaps something else as well. For a moment she gazed into those eyes, then closed her own, reaching out a hand to lay it on the forehead of Thoran.

"Be calm," she spoke softly to him, reaching with her healing abilities for those nueral pathways which would bring the Sith to a resting state...

...and remaining there til she was certain she had succeeded.

------------

Phalomir struggled with Thoran, but his strength was much greater than the smaller Sith’s body. Soon Shayla’s healing took effect, and Thoran fell into a quiet sleep.

“Erik,” said Phalamir. “Help me move him to a bed.”

Phalomir stood and looked as his hands. “And allow me to properly introduce myself,” he said, smiling. “I am Phalomir, son of Trelanicus.” He took Erik’s hand in his own, completely enclosing the human’s hand in his own. “I am in your debt and shall be at your service.”

------

Panthar sat on a bed and closed his eyes. He thought to himself.

“The first steps are complete, my lord.”

Excellent. It is time now for you to contact the sorcerer. He no doubt is watching at this moment, it should not be difficult.

Panthar opened his eyes and stood. Looking up, he raised his hands above his head.

“Dark Lord of the Sorcerers! Hear me! I have much I would discuss with you, I seek an audience.” A slight smile crossed his lips. “But only with you, not your chosen daughter.”

Now my eyes flare with anger and I shoot back the emphatic answer, directly into the impertinent one's mind:

"That of which you speak does not concern me, for it is merely ancient dust. Your words neither interest nor beguile me; the Triad is of the Houses Roan, Aelvedaar and Rean."

I silence my thoughts, holding back the brunt of my anger. That is struggling for release, a release which I know would gain me naught, for the Eye is within this one. I have seen it.

“It appears that Dark Lords in this age are taught to jump to conclusions and promote self-worship. I shall then leave you to your own interests, my lord, and take my business to someone who cares for the Sith as a race. The House of Roan has fallen, and I care not for Rean. Good evening, my lord, perhaps I shall call upon you another time when you are less self-absorbed.”

...only to finally notice that Panthar had strangely disappeared. Scanning the room a bit, she slitted her eyes slightly, all the while replaying the events of the past few minutes.

Something was awfully strange about all this. Why would a man stuck in an inhospitable region of an unfamiliar planet wander off on his own...?

Slitting her eyes further, she stood still for one more moment...

...then turned and began to walk at a fast clip, until at length she caught up with Erik and Phalomir, who had just laid Thoran down in a bed. She turned directly to Phalomir, the look in her greeny-blue eyes intense.

"Panthar...he has gone off on his own," she started out. "I have a very funny feeling about all this...

...for even disregarding what he might be doing off on his own, he could be in danger if not for anything but the inhospitable weather in this region."

She paused, pursing her lips a bit as she considered what they could do. Then the answer fell right into her lap.

You're not just a Healer, Shayla Stargazer. You are a Force-user, not truly a Jedi...

...but a well-trained Force-user. Take what you know...

"I'm going to try to find him with my Force-senses," she then said, breaking the momentary silence. Granted, she hadn't ever had any direct connection with Panthar through the Force, but she most definitely knew Thoran and her husband. Phalomir's proximity to her would rule him out immediately...

..so unless there was another in this hideout, the only other sentient life-form would have to be Panthar. So she closed her eyes, easily finding Erik, and then Phalomir. She didn't even bother to reach out towards Thoran...

...for he was right beside her. Stretching her sphere of influence then, she searched for that one other lifeform that had to be close by, for there was no way Panthar had gone far so quickly...

...and in but a few moments, she had found it. She opened her eyes then, locking onto that Force sense, about to open her mouth and tell the others that she had found Panthar and could probably track his location...

...when the strange familiarity of his Force-sense finally slammed home. At this she gasped, her eyes growing wide as she turned to stare at the yet-sleeping Sith. Then she locked gazes with Panthar, her next words utterly serious. "The Sith you see sleeping before you is not mad nor is he Thoran but merely his shell. Of this I am cerain...

...for I have found his Force-essence elsewhere." She paused then, that a foreboding sense darkening her thoughts. "Come, we must find him, for I fear something dreadful is at hand...

...for alredy there is deception in the works."

Saying nothing more than this, Shayla turned on her heel and began working her way down the corridors of this hidden place and towards the Force-essence which belonged to Thoran, knowing that others were no doubt following closely behind her...

Hopefully, those Imperials will at least run an analysis on my host's ship bfore opening fire. he thought to himself. That will give them enough cause to consider firing long enough for me to get down to the planet. Then this fool will have served his purpose. His body is already beginning to fail.

Ragorian's luck held out, and the Imperials ceased fire long enough for him to quickly dart into the atmosephere of K'eel Doba. Within moments, he had landed on the surface of the planet.

Perfect. Now, to begin my seach. After that journey, I am very hungry indeed.

Ragorian set off, using his own senses to "smell" the powerful spirits. He soon picked up a trail, and began to follow it.

Excellent. The hunt has begun.

Something rippled in his mind even as footsteps sounded behind him. He straightened and turned, the fisted hand now going to the hilt of his sword, the other slapping automatically to his chest when he saw that it was The Dark Lady's Chief Assistant, Salandaar, who had come to a halt before him. The aquamarine-eyed Sith bowed his head, slapping his own fist to his chest. Then he broke the respectful silence between them.

"There is an anomaly," he said in his deep yet soft voice, his look expressing more than the mere words ever could. The chieftain nodded in turn, straightened further, and opened his mind to that of his superior. Immediate information flooded him: the knowledge of the Imperial ship, of the being heading on foot across the K'eel Doban countryside toward the capital city, of the aura of powerful magick which encapsulated him.

The chieftain bowed.

"It shall be done," he said simply. Then he turned and left, giving out a call to his men as he did so....

Later....

The chieftain stared down into the tall grass, the early morning breeze freshening against his face. There on the the ground lay a body clad in strange garb, the shell of it strangely desiccated, a sword laying quiet at its outsplayed hand. The chieftain's aide took a step forward, reaching out to pluck up the weapon to hand to his superior, but was detained.

"No," the Sith chief said. "There is strong magick in this; can you not feel it? Do not touch it with your skin; here--"

He turned away and picked up some branches laying nearby. Returning, he ensnared the sword's basket hilt with the branches and lifted it from the ground, taking great care not to touch it in any manner. He held it in front of himself, cocking his head from side to side as he scrutinized it, his blue eyes widening to see the dark splendor of it. It was so beautiful, so strong, a weapon worthy of a warrior... no, not a warrior but a Lord... all he had to do was to take it up....

He jerked suddenly, his eyes narrowing as reflexes nearly won over by flinging the sword away. Instead, he shuddered, and with great effort got himself under control.

"Dark magicks indeed," he muttered. "This should be taken to the Lady."

"Aye," his aide assented, turning and directing the others to burn the body of the human and make arrangements for the scrapping of the ship. The remainder of the party headed back to the Temple of the Warriors with their booty, and soon reached the Receiving Hall. The Dark Lady was not at the moment present, but Salandaar assured them she would soon be with them.

Such a dark irony in her needing the library now....

She knew the information was there, and that she could seek it. But without the Revealer the seeking of the particular information she wanted would take an enormous amount of time, even with the Librarian performing his perfunctory weeding of all incoming data.

There was simply too much; the Revealer was needed, and the trembling Librarian assured her that it would not be ready for use for several weeks at the very earliest.

Thus her mood was something less than desired, and became increasingly moodier the closer she came to the Temple. All she could think of was her plan, the role her Sire would have to play in that plan, and the possible foiling of it all by the sudden arrival of the ghost-ridden Panthar...

...who had destroyed a Dark Lord of the Warriors as if he were a kitten...

...who held within him the raving soul of the mad Thoran, yet the calming strength of the one called Phalomir...

...who warned of dark warriors who very well might be the dark jedi who had brought the Sith to their collective knees and beyond.

She found herself moving amidst the tall cool shadows of the pillared Grand Foyer without really knowing how her feet had carried her there. Her stomach gave a sudden growl, and her tongue peeked out to wet her lips. She couldn't remember when she had eaten last, and when she had gained any true rest, let alone sleep.

She had just made up her mind to get some food and then retire to her chambers when Salandaar hurried up to her.

"Milady," he said, going quickly to one knee and bowing his head over the fist he laid across his chest. She murmured a reply to which he quickly responded by rising. Before she could say anything further, he briefed her on the latest happenings within the Temple.

She could scarcely keep from exploding.

And now this!!!

Saying nothing further she quickened her pace, striding past Salandaar who leapt out of her path only to follow half a stride behind her. In moments she gained the Receiving Hall and swept inside. She paused just inside the door, watching as the ring of warriors jerked their collective heads toward her, and then widened that circle that she could see what lay amidst them.

It was a sword.

She frowned and moved forward, and soon passed through the ring. Coming to a halt in front of the sword, she stood in silence, staring at it. Something seemed to ripple up at her from it, something dark and wonderful and beguiling and seductive, something which seemed to beckon and offer and wait....

She jerked, her eyes darkening, the Glyph flashing an incandescent warning on her brow. Her eyes cut up to meet those of the chieftain who had found the sword; he fell to one knee, and went into a quick explanation.

Graysith approached the sword and nudged it slightly with one toe....

Ragorian reached the Lady's mind, and slowly, ever so slowly, began the process which allowed him to control a host. He bagan to let his spirit flow through her mind, chuckling, and waiting for control to be his.

But, strangely enough, it did not come.

Ragorian focused his attention on the part of his spirit he had sent to take over the Dark Lady. To his surprise, it was not taking over, as it should be. It was struggling. Struggling with the mind of one he had designated for control.

How can this happen? he roared to himself. This has never ocurred before. Never before has one been able to put up a resistence to me. How can she?

Ragorain, belaid with anger and surprise, pulled himself together and prepared to do something he had never done before: fight for control of a host. Gathering his entire spirit and power to him, he launched headfirst into the corridors of the Dark Lady's mind, preparing to combat her resistence with all he had.

"NO!!"

Grimacing with effort, the Glyph raging upon her brow, she jerked away, preventing him from touching her.

"Touch me not! And touch not the sword...."

For a quick moment she pinned a pained gaze upon Salandaar, held it there a few agonizing seconds. Then she could bear the struggle no longer; closing her eyes she quieted within, and let loose the Beast who slavered and yowled deep inside her. That sentient part of her spirit, that awareness which made her who and what she was, fortified with the knowledge and strengths she had gained from all her teachings from one Dark Lord after another, now bowed in homage to that which was more powerful than all the Sith magick ever developed or put to use throughout that culture's aeon-long history:

The All.

The Beast reared up within her, sending a flat pewter gaze to the one who dared usurp his Lady's mind, who dared to attack, who had not the courage or integrity to speak but had to act like the mindless creature it more than likely truly was at heart... and mindless creatures were things the Beast was well acquainted with. It howled, scrabbling, reaching, clawing...

...and found its cunning adversary lurking along neural pathways, seeking cellular sanctuary, striving to gain control.

It didn't stand a chance. Nothing could resist the All, for it was all known forces in the universe. Beyond it's simple immensity there existed...

Nothing.

With a mighty incorporeal raking swing, the Beast reached into Graysith's mind and nervous system, scrabbling up the interloper as easily as a farmer gathers in the wheat from the field. It's curving claws closed over the essence of this thing, and it cocked its great unseen head to one side, drooling as it licked it's lips in anticipation of the kill. It opened it's jaws, and raised it's paw to its gaping maw...

...and was halted.

"No."

With a yowl of disappointment the Beast restrained itself, glaring at the dark essence trapped within its clutch. Then it raised it's head, let forth a final caterwaul, and thrust every lick of the darkness out of the Chosen Daughter of the Sith, the action guided and fueled by the All. Pathways opened between molecular bonds, encompassing bits and pieces of time and space...

...and the dark entity suddenly found itself back in the sword where it had come from.

Graysith staggered, her motion unseen for the brilliancy of the Glyph that was still exploding in fiery radiance on her forehead. Bit by bit, however, it's ultra-white light began to die down, until at long last it had reached its normal resting state. Within her breast, the Beast gave a final disappointed howl; then it too settled down to wait until it was next needed.

Graysith blinked, blinked again... and at last allowed Salandaar to come take her by the arm and guide her to the dias upon which the Receiving Throne was placed. She sank down upon the lowest step, waved away his attempt at ministrations, then waved the others away from the sword.

She stared at it for a long moment before finally finding her voice.

"If the entity who lurks within this piece cannot find the honor to speak, this sword shall be destroyed. You do hear me, do you not?"

She turned to the warriors, motioning them to back away as she then slowly raised her Claw-bearing hand and pointed it at the quiescent weapon. It lay there innocently enough, not appearing to do anything; she took this moment to run a mental self-diagnostic, finally nodding to find she had been thoroughly cleansed of its foul touch.

Pushing all emotion aside and reaching for the coolness of logic alone, she touched upon that great power given to her by her Sire, and in moments had heated the stones beneath the sword to where they rapidly expanded, raising the sword upward. Suddenly taking that energy away, the stones subsided, leaving the sword momentarily suspended in mid-air.

It was all she needed; quickly she reduced the energies of the air beneath the sword, slowing the molecules, making the air denser and more supportive. Likewise, she made a dense cushion behind the weapon, giving that extra energy to the air otherwise surrounding the sword.

The net effect was that the sword began to move, something in the same manner as the wings of flying things move through the skies of a planet. She followed the sword out of the Receiving Hall, through the Foyer, and outside into the courtyard. There she paused, letting the sword hover, clearly letting the entity inside it realize that unless it chose to act in a civil manner with her she would continue that upward guidance until it entirely left K'eel Doba and was sent out into space beyond....

“What are you saying, Shayla?” he asked.

Shayla led the group through a great number of twists and turns, letting the force guide her. Thoran was apparently on the move. The group turned a corner just in time to see a door slam shut at the end of the hallway. It was heavy door, larger than the others that stood along the hall. Phalomir felt a heavy pain in his heart, as a sudden deep sorrow welled up into a ball of despair inside of him, held in check for the moment only by the massive confusion that still confounded his thoughts.

He glanced at Shayla, whose expression echoed his own. He then sprang forward into a full run, his powerful legs carrying him to the end of the hallway and up to the door before the others could react. He tried the door control, but nothing happened. It was warm to the touch, and Phalomir’s first thought was that the other side had been subjected to an energy blast.

But why? If this was indeed Thoran behind the door, still in Panthar’s body, why was he acting so strangely? Yes, Thoran was insane from his years of imprisonment, but to this point he had done nothing but try to assist Phalomir. This was very different.

He took a deep breath to shout at Thoran. His effort was cut short by the muffled sound of an engine, and the rumble of a large door opening. Phalomir stepped back and kicked at the door. It was very solid, and made no movement. Shayla and Erik made their way to Phalomir.

“It is Thoran! I do not know what he intends, but he appears to have found a hangar. I think the door controls are blasted from the other side.”

Phalomir continued to kick at the door.

“I have a bad feeling about this!” he said. The sound of the engine grew suddenly louder, and then quickly faded.

But first, the business at hand. If the Dark Lord would not hear him, he had no choice but to seek out old friends. He hoped the Eye would remain dormant for the time being, he could ill afford its interference now.

“We are free of the hangar, my lord,” he said.

The voice in his head was low and dark.

Very good. We shall soon pay a visit to an old friend. He shall be very… surprised. For now, locate a reasonable place to rest.

“Yes, my liege.”

He sat up in his bed and looked around. This didn’t seem like his bedroom, but he was still disoriented. He was sure the memory of his location would come to him shortly. He stood and stretched. Hmmm…. This was a strange feeling, had he been working out more than he thought? What strength! He glanced at his hands, noticing the muscles ripple as he flexed his red fingers… oh no. Oh no! No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no! It wasn’t a dream….

Defeated.

He had been beaten, no, trounced, at the one skill that had kept him alive and sane all these years. Instead of taking over the Lady's mind with the swift and merciless strength he usually did, he had been a victim of her swift and merciless strength that tossed him out of her mind as easily as a kraayt dragon spitting out a bone.

How? he thought. How could she have done this? I have never met a being who could put up even the feeblest resistence to me, and this one, this Dark Lady, she has made me look like a fool at my own game!

Eventually, Ragorian stopped his wondering and focused his attention on the Lady. She was emanding that he speak, or he would be flung into space. That was a difficult predicament for him. The only way for him to communicate with a living being was to either speak through a host's mouth, or if a being held him in its hand, and allowed him to talk to its mind. Conveying this message to the Lady would be difficult indeed. Ragorian could create images in his head and send them to others who knew of Sith magick, but it took a great deal of concentration. He began to piece together images as quickly as he could. First, one of himself, a sword. Then, a human with a mouth closed, hand over it's mouth. Next, a human holding him in it's hand, then the human talking to another human. Finally an image of her, the Lady, holding him in her hand, seperate from the others. He strung them together, and sent them off.

There. She should be able to piece that together. Of course, she may have completely closed her mind, which means the images shall not get there at all, and I shall be condemned to drift endlessly. Nothing more I can do, however.

Ragorian settled himself to await the Lady's reaction.

Pausing then, Shayla considered, truly at a loss as to this strange shift in Thoran's behavior.

Had his madness gotten the best of him? What could he possibly be up to? He certainly managed to slip away from everyone else rather stealthily...

...and how did he manage to stay in Panthar's body when the switch had taken place anyway? He didn't even have control of...

Suddenly, Shayla's eyes widened and she turned to Phalomir, the look in her eyes intense.

The Eye had been in Panthar Dantares' body...

"The Eye..." she finally said aloud, her look darkening even as she did so, "...is it still in the body of Panthar Dantares, as it was? For if it is...

...I have a feeling Thoran has other plans for it..."

“Yes, the Eye was indeed still within that body. What in the heavens has happened to Thoran?”

Phalomir thought for a moment, then his eyes flashed.

“The Dark Lord! He must have taken control of the Eye somehow from within. This is the only possible explanation. Oh, poor Thoran! He is again a prisoner.”

A look of grim realization came over Phalomir, as he sighed softly and looked woefully at Shayla.

Graysith cocked her head, considering. What the message entailed was clear enough… up to the point showing her holding the sword, for until that moment it spoke of nothing but an honest intent to parley. But beyond that, what the sword would have to say would be private between them if she did choose to once again hold it in her hand, that image suggestive of either something not quite as open and honest…

…or else something too important to allow any other ears to hear of it.

She finally spoke.

“Your attempt at communication is understood. But I hold no secrets from my peoples.”

Turning, she nodded to one of the warriors, who bowed his head before gingerly approaching the quiescent weapon. As the warrior came to a halt she turned to Salandaar.

“If this warrior should act in any manner harmful to himself or to us, kill him,” she murmured in a chilled whisper. Watching the warrior stoop and pick up the sword, she raised her voice.

Rogorian stopped and cleared his head. Fool. he chided himself, This is not your body. You have not rejoined the Sith. Stop getting wrapped up in emotion.

Ragorian silently cursed himself. The Lady would have definatly seen the look of pure joy flit across the Sith face. He had again shown weakness before her. He would have to clean up his act. Opening the Sith's mouth, he spoke.

"Greetings to you, Dark Lady of the Sith. I must first ask forgiveness for my rude intrusion into your mind. It was completely uncalled for. My excitment at feeling such such a strong spirit simply took hold of me. Ah, that explanation shall not do. Let me tell you my story."

"My name, as you know, is Ragorian. I know I do not look it, but I am a Sith. Or, to be precise, the spirit of one. The essence of one. I was a rouge sorcerer on my planet. I simply did not agree with the government, so, I practiced against them in secret. But, I was not as careful as I should have been. I was found out, and sentenced to be executed."

"I was afraid, terribly afraid of death. I wanted to live above anything else. So, as the Sith soldiers closed in on me, I used an ancient, dark spell that flung me from my body and into the sword you see before you."

"I had escaped execution, but in doing so I had doomed myself to exile and lonliness. For thousands of years, the sword remained in that cave, untouched and alone. It was all I could do to keep a hold on my sanity."

"Then, a hundred or so years ago, I was found by a human archaologist. When her hand touched the blade, I, without thinking, sent my spirit pouring into her. And so, I found that I could still use my power to posses others. Immediatly, I began travelling across the galaxy, taking new hosts as needed. I find that my spirit burns bodies out rather quickly. This warrior is tougher than most. He should last a reasonable amount of time."

"I was searching, you see. Searching for a way to return myself to my body and powers. I found that way unexpectedly. When I was attacked by a group of thugs on one of the planets, I killed them. As the died, however, I somehow consumed their spirits, and, in doing so, regained a small fraction of my powers."

"I have been wandering the galaxy for years now, taking lives and consuming spirits. Recently, I sensed a group of spirits stronger than any I had ever felt before. Those were here. I used an imperial agent to bypass the blockade, then landed here and departed in seach of them. Before I could find any, though, my host collapsed, and your guards found me. That brings us to now. Again, I am sorry for my intrusion into your mind. Your spirit simply called to me."

Ragorian paused, drawing breath through the nostrils of the Sith warrior.

"Now, is there anything you wish to ask me, having heard my story?"

Shayla sent him a look, then turned to regard Phalomir once more. Though she too was concerned with the possible danger of what the Sith was suggesting, somewhere deep inside she knew she couldn't turn her back now...

...for she was well aware of what the Dark Lord might have in store if in fact he had siezed control of the Eye. Graysith could be in danger...

...and though she may have changed in her feelings towards Shayla, that most certainly did not mean the reverse was also true. True compassion for another was not for the feint of heart...

"Yes, we must at least warn her," she then replied to Phalomir, her look utterly serious and utterly concerned. "We will need a ship...

...so we've gotta get in there," she finished, motioning towards the door. "I have telekentic ability, but if the door is simply jammed that may not work. Any ideas?"

"How kind of you to divulge your past in its entirety," she said sweetly; then she snorted in derision. The tip of the Claw of S'slan glittered hungrily as she aimed it not at the warrior, but rather at the gleaming metal of the ancient sword he held.

"You seek a body that has long crumbled into the dust from which it came," she said, never taking her eyes off the sword, trusting that Salandaar would leap to her defense if the warrior so much as blinked. "If it is a body you seek to emplace yourself within, I'm afraid there are none to be found."

She paused a bit, cocking her head before heading off onto a new track.

"Why then are you here?" she finally asked. "Rogue sorcerer which you are, one in defiance of the ruling clans and leadership of the Sith; why should I allow you to remain alive -- such as you are -- since your presence is nothing but a clear danger to me? History has shown more than not that those rebelling against the ones in power are not so much rebelling against what that power represents, but rather because it simply does not represent the personal desires of those in rebellion. And rebellions cannot exist unless lead by one champion."

She leaned forward a bit, smiling sugary sweet as she let the nuances of that statement sink in.

"And what good is a fine Sith weapon which turns against its wielder?"

"No, my lady. I was not clear at all on my goal. I do not seek my own, original body. I seek to gather enough spirits so that my powers may be strong enough that I may construct a new body for myself. My apoligies for not making this clear."

"As for my rebellious nature, that shall not be a problem. I do not have anything against you. It was simply the government of my own planet, so long ago, that I held contempt for. It was run by a load of egotistical fools. Nothing like your monarchy, I hope."

"I see no reason to destroy me. The thousands of years I spent in isolation have quelled my violent side. I know now that I am no match for you, so I shall not be foolhardy enough to attempt to enter your mind again. Also, no body I could take would be able to endanger you physically, what with the many warriors you command. Thus, I am hardly a danger to you."

"Though, if you wish me gone, I would be happy to oblige. Sadly, though, I have no host, and without one, I am crippled. If you have any prisoners or rebels, I would be glad to use one of them. I sensed other powerful spirits on this planet, aside form yours, and my hunger for them grows as we speak. If they are freinds of yours, I shall leave this planet as soon as possible. If they are enemies, however....it would be a useful way to eliminate them."

A slow smile began curling upon her lips.

"You speak enticing words, Ragorian," she began in a somewhat milder tone of voice. "Indeed I can see where your rather... unique abilities could be of some use to me. However, you must make a promise to me that none of the spirits you seek to consume will be Sith. Rebel, criminal or no, I will not dishonor any in this manner. The Sith are a strong and powerfully magickal race, and a proud one. It goes against their nature to be controlled in the manner in which you are now controlling this warrior.

"Surely you recall this for yourself, from the time when you walked your world as Sith."

And which world would that have been? she couldn't help but wonder. Khar Delba was a strong likelihood, but somehow unlikely, judging from the words this spirit spoke. One of the lesser worlds, not of the Diamond of the Sith? At some point perhaps the spirit would regale her with more of his story. In the meantime....

She stopped her musings to take a moment to scrutinze the Sith who was holding the sword. At a quick glance he seemed to be no different than usual, but a more discerning eye could pick out the strain in his own, the tension in his bulging muscles, the beads of sweat beginning to spring upon his horned brow. A bit of her smile faded away at that, and she pursed her lips.

Then she took a quick step forward, coming to a halt in front of the warrior. To her left, a nervous looking Salandaar coiled, ready to leap forward. She raised a hand to him, halting him in his tracks.

"My strengths, which so easily have overtaken yours, are in turn shackled by one against whom your... talents..." A brief smile flickered upon her lips at this thought. "...may indeed be useful. Perhaps something in the way of an arrangement can be made between us."

Now she turned her head, directing her eyes straight into Salandaar's aquamarine ones. He flinched, obviously distressed at what he knew was coming. She turned back to the warrior, overlooking her aide's momentary weakness for her sake.

The voice she spoke with was cold, low and musical, like the ringing of a glacier as icebergs calve into the sea.

"I shall provide you with the sustenance you crave, and you shall provide me with that protection I need against the one who impedes my powers," she whispered.

Then she reached out a pale hand, and gently plucked the sword from the grasp of the warrior.

He jerked, his knees buckling as he staggered from the sudden release. She in turn sucked in a gasping breath the moment her hand touched the still-warm grip, but the contact only strengthened her resolve. Her fingers coiled even more tightly around the sword and she fell silent, waiting to hear Ragorian's reply.

About your proposition. I would be happy to provide my services to you, even more so for your promise of sustenance. Now, who is this being who shackles your powers? The one I shall be protecting you from? Do not hold back any details. The better I know him, the easier it will be to battle him.

Phalomir closed his eyes and brought his hands together in front of him, palms out. He slowly parted them. A rumble sounded from the door, followed by the sounds of metal tearing. His eyes flung open and the sounds stopped.

“That was interesting,” he said.

He repeated the actions, concentrating harder this time. Soon the sounds of tearing metal again sounded. A soft red glow faintly gleamed from Phalomir’s skin, and the door slowly began to slide open. In a few seconds there was enough of a gap to allow a person passage. Phalomir stopped and quickly leaned for the wall, catching his breath.

“Well, I must say it is good to be back in my own body. However, I do not think I could have done that feat 4500 years ago. Something is definitely different. I must rest a moment, please feel free to explore the hangar. I do not know what lies within, but knowing my father, there should have been at least two transports.”

Phalomir sat and leaned his back to the wall. Closing his eyes, he explored his mind and body for possible explanations for this power he felt. His father had spoken words to him during the last strange encounter, what were they? “The Eye needed a soul, a spirit with which to bond… You are one with the Eye, your power is within it, as its power is within you.”

Phalomir let his thoughts drift further, becoming oblivious to the actions of Shayla and Erik. He caught a small tendril of power lying in the back of his mind, and traced it along the darker corridors of thought. It wound its way innocently around entrenched memories, through cracks that had already begun filling themselves, and finally led to a door in Phalomir’s mind. With hands of pure thought, he reached for the knocker and rapped upon the door. It slowly opened, revealing a darkness beyond.

Phalomir looked into the darkness. He felt this was the correct connection, the thread of power the Dark Lady had left within him before his departure from K’eel Doba. But something did not seem right. He called out softly.

“Lady Jharmeen?” No response.

“Dark Lady?” No reponse.

Phalomir wondered at this. Then a sudden thought leapt to him.

“Graysith?” he whispered.

A low growl sounded from the darkness, and a pair of glowing eyes slowly opened on the other side of the door. Phalomir tensed.

...but Shayla could guess before she ever glanced at the controls that this ship wouldn't have nearly the capabilities that the Sith fighters she knew did. After all, Phalomir's father lived in a time before the any of the Sith had control of the All. But even so, the ship still had that greeny-gold color...

Almost entranced by that eerie color, Shayla reached out to run a slender finger on its surface, gazing into those greeny-golden depths as once more a lifetime of memories came crashing foreward.

I can show you your true potential...

Inexplicably, as Shayla continued to gaze inward as well as outward, her eyes rimmed with tears.

What had become of what was? Was it all a ploy? A deception to meet some goal? She couldn't believe that, not even after all which had occurred. She just couldn't...

"Shayla, there's no hatch," Erik's voice came wafting into her thoughts. But she couldn't bring herself to respond to him, not just yet.

"Shayla?" came Erik's voice again, this time also accompanied by the touch of his hand on her shoulder. "Are you allright?"

Reaching the back of her hand up to her eyes to first wipe any signs of tears away, she then turned to regard her husband, clearly reading the concern upon his face. "I...I'm fine..." she said, her voice trailing.

For a moment Erik locked gazes with her and didn't speak so much as a word. "The hatch...?" he queried then, nodding towards the ship.

"That's something I think our friend Phalomir will know about," Shayla replied, making an extra effort to clear the remnants of memories from her mind...

...at least for the moment. Then she looked to Phalomir, at first not noticing his faraway look. "We'll need your help to get into the ship," she started. "Can you..."

At this Shayla once more trailed, finally picking up on the look in the Sith's eye. Stepping a little closer, her husband on her heels, Shayla reached out a hand and placed it on the sitting Sith's shoulder. "Phalomir?"

Smiled.

Deep inside her very essence, the Beast was upon its feet, it's raging eyes glaring upon its flat pewter world and at the second usurper who dared to trespass within. It lowered its unseen head and glared balefully at the tentative approach of Phalomir into the mind of his mistress.

Now Graysith smiled, actually showing pearly teeth in the process. There was something of that smile which chilled to the bone; Salandaar drew in a breath, then steadied as the Dark Lady continued to remain absolutely silent in front of him, the sword held loosely in her hand.

"The shackler of whom I spoke is here with us now, my ally," she sent a soft tendril whickering into the sword, taking up the spirit therein and gently guiding it in the proper direction.

"Here is sustenance of which I have spoken; take and eat... and if you cannot from a distance, sample him that you will know him when he comes.

Phalomir felt a brief wave of fear passing quickly through him. He thought he caught a movement to the right of the eyes, a flicker of some other color in the distance. The eyes before him seemed to grow even wider, and a new sense of urgency overtook him as Phalomir grabbed for the door. The eyes before him narrowed and grew suddenly nearer, as if something was leaping for him.

“Perhaps another time!” he shouted as he quickly swung the door shut and slammed it into place. A massive thud shook the door as Phalomir threw his spirit’s weight against it. He focused his energies and row upon row of locks and barricades materialized on the door. He sighed.

A hand shaking his shoulder brought Phalomir back to consciousness. His eyes snapped open, startling Shayla. Phalomir’s hand flew upwards and caught Shayla’s wrist.

Why did it matter if Jharmeen was Graysith, anyway...?

Something of a barrier rose in defense as the moment froze in silence, Shayla's widened eyes only for Phalomir.

"Tell me," he called to his guide (and guard), "Do you still wear these or are they just souvenirs?"

The Sith walked forward beside him, lifted the gauntlet away with his claws, and set it back into place. "During the Sith War, these were originally designed for the thousands of humans that swarmed our ranks. Eventually it was modified to fit other humanoid species. This," he tapped a claw on the suit's faceplate, "Is one of the first copies. We only wear our armour in times of war. Now I believe you wished to see the Lady...?"

Romanus nodded in response. "Yeah, show the way."

...and the invader vanished. Just left. Roaring in anger, Ragorian whirled around the spot where the invader had been. Pausing, he sniffed. A delicious scent alighted his nose. It was the afterscent of the invaders spirit. Never had he sensed one so rich and delicious. But, there was also something....strangely familiar about it. Withdrawing, he went back to where the Lady was waiting.

Lady, he said., the warrior is gone. He fled when I approached. But, I did catch a sense of him. You were correct on him being sustenence for me. He would be immensely fulfilling. But, I also sensed something strange about him.

Ragorian paused, considering. Then he voiced his question.

The edge keened as she brought the grip horizontal with the floor on level with her eyes, then in a twisting move quickly slashed it down and away, pointing the tip out to the side and down. She completed the move by bringing it about to her other side, there to slide it into its scabbard, which of course was not there. She nodded to herself in satisfaction, holding the sword against her left hip as though it had been sheathed, and held that pose for a short time.

Then slowly bringing the blade back up before her eyes she let her mind waft gently back into the spirit inhabiting it.

"Yes-ss..." The sibilant broke from her lips in a low whisper and hung on the air. Her eyes darkened a bit, and she silenced.

"The invader is Sith... and one who has approached me before in the guise of a human. There is another, his squire who is quite mad...."

She hesitated, momentarily loathe to reveal all to this spirit who not too long ago had attempted to usurp her own mind. Finally decided it was simply his nature to do so, and continued.

"They come from the past... 500 years according to your time, but 4500 years considering the Sith now inhabit this, their own future. There were two Sith who by magickal means slipped into the body of a human, much in the same manner as you now inhabit this fine weapon. They bring with them the Eye of R'lous; it is this device which shackles my powers. It is ensconced within the body of the human, and must be destroyed."

She paused again before taking the final plunge.

"I have already been attacked by this Sith who is not of my people, but of their past; thus he is under no allegiance to me, and is considered rogue and enemy... and in this one case, offerred freely to you."

She smiled inwardly at her use of the adjective "rogue," then moved smoothly on.

"The Sith claims to be the son of Trelanicus; perhaps you have heard of this sorcerer?"

“I tried to contact the Lady Jharmeen through the link we shared on K’eel Doba. I feel she no longer wishes to communicate with me, she would not answer to her name. I called out to the name Graysith, and was attacked by some sort of beast.”

Phalomir sighed.

...just what makes him a more valuable member of the universe than Jharmeen Qu'taro? She is the only sister I have ever known, blood or not."

Shayla fell silent, something akin to anger boiling just under the surface of her deceptively calm exterior. "Jharmeen has suffered much ill, and I still believe there is something beyond what you have diagnosed as psychosis going on. Small minds see only the smaller portion of what is always a much bigger picture..."

Again Shayla trailed, her look still dark. A moment hung in utter silence, then she finished with, "If you will not warn the Lady of the dangers which are most certainly headed her way...

...then I will...

...and the rescue of Thoran will be in your hands alone."

Ragorian searched his mind, streaching to remember back to the years before his imprisionment. Examining old memories that he thought he had forgotten, he searched for a mention of the name Trelanicus. Suddenly, Ragorinan heard a small whisper, barely audible, that was indeed speaking about Trelanicus. He dove into the memory, submerging himself. A few minutes later, he pulled himself out of his vast pool of memories and brought his attention to the Lady, who was waiting patiently.

I did indeed know Trelanicus. He was a sorcerer, like me. We were freinds, but also rivals, each striving to have the most powerful magick. He delved into the study of alchemy, spending many years reseaching, attempting to make some sort of stone. I asked him many times about it, but he would say nothing. He left our world to continue his reseach, and I only heard from him in monthly letters. Then, he stopped responding for some reason. I was curious, and attempted to find out why. Eventually, I found that he had been schedueled to be executed. I also heard a mention of this Eye. Trelanicus was quite powerful and wise, and if this stone was his life's work, then it would be powerful indeed.

So-oo... she thought to herself grimly. Another Sith Lord with an apparently nonexistent son....

She grunted, pushing all thoughts of Recinis from her mind with that, and focused on the patiently waiting Ragorian again.

"Indeed," was all she said, the tone she conveyed entirely noncommittal. Then she smiled.

"Then it should not be an issue with you in... assisting me against possible further attack from this supposed son of Trelanicus," she directed to the sword. "That is, if this Sith is truly not the son of that sorcerer.

"But if he is--?"

Nevertheless, I am indeed willing to assist you against this enemy. Indeed, my mouth waters at the thought of consuming his sole, for it is rich and ripe with age. Do you know when this enemy will be with us?

"I am not certain as to the exact time," she finally admitted a bit reluctantly. "But he will come.

"As will others, undoubtedly. Several have come with unexpected... serendipity to K'eel Doba, even after once being kindly invited to depart. You may keep alert for their arrival as well; I do not wish to be further disturbed by any interference on the part of any other."

Her smile strengthened as she sent images of those who had come with Panthar/Phalomir into the essence of Ragorian: Shayla, Erik, Dash, everyone.

"Some are jedi, ones who wield a power known as The Force; this is unknown to you, more than likely, and is the power used by those now described as dark jedi in the over-running of the Sith worlds and the destruction of their civilization, four thousand years ago. Be wary, my friend; however, I feel your magicks may be strong enough to counteract its abilities. Personally I believe the Sith could have rallied against the invasion of the dark jedi had they not been so consumed by internal squabbles and intrigues."

She quieted, momentarily losing herself in the depths of the gleaming blade and the reflection of her violet eyes which glimmered there. Then she lifted her voice in command.

A strapping and quite muscular Sith warrior appeared as if by magick. He clapped his fisted hand against the opposing shoulder, bowed his horned head, and waited in obedient silence.

Graysith curled her lip in satisfaction.

"Use this one for the time being to mobilize yourself, my ally," she said, gracefully flipping the sword in her hand and extending the grip to the warrior. He tilted his head once more to her, then reached out and grasped the weapon in his clawed hand. His brilliant lime colored eyes widened for a brief moment as Ragorian's spirit flooded into him; then they seemed to fill with darker knowledge and narrowed slightly. He trembled briefly, then remained motionless.

"That is, until you come into the presence of another one who allies with me, and who is my bodyguard. He is strong, a wielder of this Force I spoke of, and I feel he is... in the market for a fine weapon to use."

Her smile darkened further as, laying a trailing finger upon the very tip of the glimmering blade, she allowed an image of Romanus to flow into Ragorian.

"But remember your promise: harm him and this warrior not," Graysith finally finished as she then took a small step backward and clasped her hands in front of herself. Upon her forehead, the Glyph raged like a tiny sun, warming those present with its energies, then reduced its glare to its customary ultraviolet glow.

Ragorian paused for a moment, considering the new information and images the Lady had given him. Jedi......he had heard that word before. Many of his hosts had at least heard of them. He paused, remembering stories he had heard about them and their...Force. What was this Force? Ragorian decided to research on it later. He nodded to the Lady and Salandaar, then walked off in search of Romanus.

Eventually, he came across a Sith guiding a man down a corridor. The man was indeed the same one as the image the Lady had sent him. Clearing his throat, he stepped out in front of them.

“Jharmeen has suffered much ill? Well, my lady, for that I am truly sorry. But you must realize that I AM looking at a much bigger picture. We are all victims of much ill, I feel no special tenderness for Jharmeen. She seems more than capable of handling her own turmoil, and if not… then she go straight to the deepest pit and wallow in her own self-made strife. I feel nothing but apathy for this woman. And if Jharmeen is truly your sister, then perhaps you are better served in discovering why she has so steadfastly tried to make you forget that!”

Phalomir stood in one quick, surprisingly graceful motion. He looked down to Shayla, bringing his full height into his statement.

“And what makes Thoran a more valuable member of the universe than Jharmeen Qu’taro is that he is NOT Jharmeen Qu’taro! His madness was caused by his devotion to me, and I must be committed to finding him.”

Phalomir’s face softened.

“I am plagued by prophecies, voices, and memories of places and people that I am unsure are real. I must rely on what I DO know, and what I do know is that the only person who I would consider my brother is out there in a human body with a powerful crystal in him. And I do not trust that crystal. Finding Thoran will remove the danger to Jharmeen.”

And if what I speculate is true, thought Phalomir, the crystal is not the real danger to Jharmeen.

“I am going to retrieve Panthar Dantares. We all have a stake in this, and many dangers await us once we leave this facility. Remember your 'Empire'?"

She turned luminous eyes upon him, chewing a bit on her bottom lip as she did.

"We have found an ally in the spirit inhabiting the sword, Salandaar," she opened, staring steadily up into his aquamarine eyes. He in turn made no reply but merely nodded in acknowledgement of the obvious. The Lady Q'utaro let out a small sigh, and then went on.

"There is a puzzle that has been laid before me, my friend, one that I cannot lay aside else it grow into proportions too immense to be easily dealt with. I must depart for a short while to make my own investigations; my friend...."

She paused again, and then turned to fully face the towering warrior.

"I leave the Temple in your capable hands. Should you need defense against anything your warriors cannot handle, as unlikely an event as that would be, seek out the one called Romanus. I expect he shall be carrying the sword in hand; between the three of you I have no fear for Phrinnchatka or K'eel Doba."

Now a genuine smile curled upon her lips.

"M-my Lady," Salandaar stammered, beginning to fall to one knee but was stopped as Graysith held out a preemptory hand to lay upon his shoulder.

"I shall return as soon as possible, Salandaar. Take care of the Temple, and watch out especially for the Daughters."

With that she gave Salandaar's shoulder a squeeze. Then she let her hand drop to her side, took a step back, and nodded. The corridor the pair were traversing became awash with the glory of the All as the Glyph on her forehead burst into brilliant life. And when that fire died down it was to disclose a solitary Salandaar who stood in contemplative silence, watching the shadows grow even as the light diminished.

-----------------------------------------------------------

Graysith's long hair whipped about her face like living fire as she stepped out through the portal she had opened. The wind that took those strands to play with was hot, as if coming from a furnace let run too long. She squinted, holding up a hand before her face, protecting it from the grains of sand carried forcefully by that wind; although her face came to no harm, the back of her hand was soon peppered with tiny specks of black which ran red with her own blood.

She paid the slight injury no heed, but merely drew up her hood about her head, closing it about her face to further protect it. And during the entirety of this minor adjustment her eyes never left the sight they had focused upon the moment she had stepped forth onto the desert of K'eel Doba.

Before her there towered a veritable cliff of sandy rock, the layers displayed by erosion of eons clearly telling the tale of what had occurred in that one small portion of the planet throughout millennia. She gave the tell-tale sediments no heed either, but locked her eyes on a small dark hole hidden behind a certain outcropping in that sandstone. It was an entrance to a cave, a very particular cave, one which once held a small fleet of Sith fighters, one whose rear areas were utterly destroyed...

...but one in which a certain little room off to the side held particular meaning to her.

She blinked, took in a fortifying breath, and stepped out of the hurricane winds and into what she hoped would explain her destiny, as well as what steps she would now have to take to ensure that destiny would indeed come into being.

...but even still, she just couldn't let go. Her mind and her heart were torn between what seemed and what she had been lead to believe up until then, the damning question that had been floating in her mind surfacing once again.

Had it all been for nothing other than attaining a specific end? Had she been nothing more than a tool...?

"Very well," she managed, blinking back tears which were trying to form in her eyes. "But know this: I do not for one second believe that Jharmeen Qu'taro is simply psychotic. The Jharmeen I knew had much love..."

...and likewise much hate, Shayla, remember...? a little voice filled in.

"...and love is not something which one turns off with a switch. Something has happened to her, and it would do you well to consider that perhaps Thoran...

...and yourself...

...aren't the only victims here."

Shayla trailed for a moment then, her look turning utterly impassive. "Now if you would kindly show me how to get inside this transport," she then said, waving towards te greeny-golden ship, "I'll get us warmed up, and my husband will help you retrieve Panthar Dantares."

The freedom ended abruptly with the return of the rough voice to his mind.

I am ready, my servant. Our friend will no doubt be very… happy… upon our arrival.

“Yes, my liege. May I ask what to expect?”

You may. I sent her away to wait for me, and now the time has come for my return...

Indeed, I look forward to visiting many old friends...

...and that his hadn't. For a long time, Erik stood silent, at an utter loss, suddenly feeling totally out of the game. But finally he could keep silent no longer; after all, his wife was talking about going into a highly risky situation...

...and for reasons he didn't for the life of him understand. He knew she had somehow been linked to this Graysith person according to Aaron Barnes, but aside from that...

"Shayla..." he spoke up, interrupting the question she had directed Phalomir's way. "How do you know Lady Jharmeen is Graysith? And what is this of her being your...

... sister? And of her suffering much ill?" He paused at that, directing a pair of puzzled browns in his wife's direction. "And why is it you know of these things...

...and I do not...?"

At that he fell completely silent once more, his brown eyes locked upon her greeny-blues as he waited, clearly wanting some sort of explanation for this puzzle which had so suddenly presented itself...

Without looking at the ship, Phalomir turned back to Shayla and Erik. He strode quickly to them, then past them, and continued down the hall.

“Where is everyone?” he shouted. No reply.

He walked to the door and tried it. It was locked.

“Hey! Let me out!” He balled his hand into a fist and pounded on the door. Instead of the thud he was expecting, his fist left an indentation into the metal. He looked at his hand, nothing seemed broken and he felt no pain. A sly smile came to him and balled his fist once again. He drew back his arm and sent his fist flying with all of his might into the door. The fist made a dull thud as it crashed into the door, but the sound was quickly overwhelmed by the tearing of the metal hinges and the crash of the door as it hit the floor outside the room.

Panthar again checked his hand, no damage. He shrugged and stepped towards the doorway. The door was suddenly blocked by the immense body of Phalomir, who sent a gloved hand flying up and caught Panthar by the throat. He lifted the human in a Sith’s body a full three feet of the ground, with Panthar desperately grabbing the arm that held him.

“Now we talk,” said Phalomir, “and discover exactly who it is that inhabits the body of my friend. I ask one question, if you answer it incorrectly then you die now.”

Panthar stared in astonishment.

“Who was Dark Lord of the Sorcerers three generations before Trelanicus?” said Phalomir steadily.

Panthar struggled, searching for an answer. There were no memories he could access, no thoughts of other beings, no traces of anything except his own consciousness. He tried to remember anything that he might have been told while on the other planets, but all he could recall was the image of the dark lady. Her red hair, her slender figure, her…

Phalomir’s grip tightened, and Panthar could feel his wind being cut off.

“Tell me know or die,” Phalomir said calmly.

“I… It was… Uh… I… I DON’T KNOW!”

Phalomir stared into Panthar’s eyes for a moment, then released his grip entirely. Panthar fell to the floor choking.

Her brows lowered like thunderclouds as with a little snort she released her hair, now bringing her hand around the back of her head and down to the collar of her cloak. She grasped hold of the material, fingering its silkiness, clearly remembering the last time she had strode into this very same chamber...

...only it had not been from the main entryway now behind her. There had been another chamber, a smaller one, one from which a distinct reddish glow had beckoned to her even as her father's cries of astonished glee had resounded from yet another chamber ahead of her. How clearly she remembered halting in her tracks, considering the eerie glow, struggling briefly to continue on and see what her professorial father had discovered only to restrain herself in mid-step.

And then taking that fateful turn. Into...?

Her frown deepened as she stepped forward in what she was certain was the right direction. The Glyph on her forehead blazed into life, revealing a certainty of its own as she approached the rock face and laid her hand upon its cool surface.

Nothing happened. The rock was... rock.

Impossibly, the frown increased a few more degrees until her face was nothing but a tight knot. This simply couldn't be. It had been here, right here in this place; she would bet her life on the fact that the chamber into which she had at the time stepped was in this very spot, drawn there inexplicably by an unknown light as well as by a haunting sort of song heard only on a cellular level. Only now there was only rock.

Deep inside, the Beast rose to its feet, growling its wariness at what was not. And the Chosen Daughter had to agree with its assessment. The fact that the chamber did not appear to exist any longer didn't faze her in the least; what caused her concern was the fact that there did indeed exist certain beings with the ability to alter physical reality from one aspect into another.

And the pressing question in the matter was... why.

Closing her eyes now, she tried to relax, hushing the grumbles of the Beast as she reached out with the All to determine if there was anything remotely resembling an answer to her myriad questions. Nothing came of it; for once the All refused to reveal those answers which she sought. It was almost as if the power was being...

Leashed.

Graysith let a small snort escape her as she dropped her hand, her eyes darkening dangerously. Then she took a step back, opened a Portal, and within less than an eyeblink returned to the Temple in Phrinnchatka.

That was my world, and had been for who knows how long. Judging by the way my head spun -- not to mention the duration of that strange dizziness -- I could have been here days, or even longer. I simply had no way of judging the passage of time, other than by those presumably evenly spaced moments when that stubborn, metallic door would quietly open to reveal a tray-bearing Kaminoan coming to feed me. By now I knew better than to try to escape; my first two attempts at that had ended with a sharp pain coming from seeming nowhere, one which had pierced a miniscule spot on my throat to produce immediate blackness which had at length been followed by a slowly obtained and nastily sustained period of dim fuzziness.

Hey, one can't fault me my efforts in this; I really had thought that the dart administration -- for obviously it was that -- would be easily outfoxed once I became aware of the presence of the dartgun. But no, these Kaminoans were masters of their art; the second little arrow hit faster than the first, and had kept me out even longer, although that might have been my imagination.

Be that as it may, I learned not to try anything against my captors, and reduced my efforts to simply begging, bribing, and promising wonders if I were allowed to be released. Of course this got me absolutely nowhere as well; if anything, it provoked an expression close to terror in their large, expressive eyes, and prompted an immediate departure from my holding cell.

A holding cell which I was beginning to become all-too acquainted with, unfortunately. Nothing else to pass the time around here but to contemplate those annoyingly white walls and gleaming floor.

So now here I was, staring and thinking, wondering where in Khaandon's Great Universe that I have been whisked to; Kamino? That would have been my first guess, but who knows. I well remembered a place on a planet far from that water world where we had found the remnants of a Kaminoan lab; sighing a little I returned to my bed and plopped myself down upon it again.

Is this where I was? Somewhere else? Knowing the power of Roan, too aware of his abilities, I knew that I could be literally anywhere in the galaxy.

Anywhere at all.

Or could I?

Was there a limit to the range of his strengths? Was he restricted by distance or any other physical parameters; surely this strange power couldn't be the proverbial Magic Wand enabling its user to perform any task he desired?

Or she....

I jerked away from that thought, striving to place my thoughts back on track. My efforts were suddenly interrupted as the metallic door whooshed quietly open, sending little currents of air skirling about my feet. I raised my head and just sighed to see the try-laden Kaminoan standing there. Then I frowned.

There was something... different about his bearing, something which seemed to exude an aura of...

Concern.

He strode past me with the tray and set it down on the floor next to my feet. I didn't bother to move a muscle other than to turn my head and will his eyes to focus upon my own. Surprisingly enough, he obliged for a fragile second or two, and oddly enough in that brief moment it was as if we were suddenly bonded somehow, connected by a commonality which I was suddenly very certain of.

Then again, maybe that was my imagination as well, but I really didn't think so....

The Kaminoan straightened smoothly to his full height, then turned and departed. The metal door closed in his wake, but this time that door wasn't closing on rising feelings of hopelessness on my part. Instead a little tingle was beginning to erupt within me, one which began quietly enough and then gradually increased in intensity.

One which told me sure as there's Treasure on Roon that the paradigms had somehow been altered, that we were suddenly in this together, wherever the hell we were, both of us captives more than likely. The look in his shining eyes had been that unmistakable.

For the first time in who knows how long I felt a little smile come to my lips. I let it linger and broaden as I reached to my tray and picked up a piece of the usual fare, something wholly manufactured and undoubtedly extremely nutritional, judging by its taste. The cardboard texture and aroma was utterly ignored, however.

The future suddenly didn't look quite as grim. How could it, when one's bodyguard suddenly switches rontos in midstream, and obligingly enough, just happened to be a rider holding the very latest in technological know-how?

Just the slim promise of leaving this stark place was enough to reduce the tons of rock I had been carrying on my shoulders to a burden of perhaps a few kilos at the most. Positive that we'd get out of wherever we were, I nodded to myself and quickly devoured the nutrients.

Then I scrambled to my feet and began, albeit somewhat creakily, to run through some training and resistance exercises I knew. I wanted to be more than ready when the Kaminoan came back to announce a sudden change in plans, which I just knew was going to happen at some time or another....

((OOC: Follow Galen into Out of the Frying Pan in the "Jedi/Sith" forums, thank you.))

Doesn't he remember a damn thing? I told him I had memories blocked, memories which were only restored by the Eye...

...and through Thoran...

Frowning at this thought, Shayla continued to stare at the point where Phalomir's back had departed altogether. After a few more moments of this, she then forced herself from her thoughts and turned to regard her husband, whose look was still clearly confused.

Her look softened.

She had told Phalomir of what the Eye had done...

...but she hadn't been able to share that information with the one man she had chosen to spend the rest of her life with. The one man who had been there all along and yet could not remember it as she now did...

Stepping closer to him, she wrapped her arms about him, her look a cross between apology and concern and perhaps something deeper. "You still don't remember much of our recent past, do you?" she queried simply.

Erik's brown eyes defocused a for a moment, then refocused on her. "No, I don't," he said quietly, his eyes searching hers for some sort of answer.

"Through the Eye Thoran was somehow able to unblock the memories which I had lost...

...memories of Graysith and Jharmeen Qu'taro...

...and memories of the Sith."

She fell silent once more at that, her eyes only for her husband. He simply nodded, but Shayla sensed a struggle of sorts within him...

...a pain at not being able to completely remember at least a year's worth of memories he should have had with her. She reached up to kiss him lightly on the cheek, then leaned back a little. "I know it is difficult to not be able to remember...

...but perhaps that will be rectified in time; I will do my best to fill in any missing memories for you in the meantime. For now, you must believe me that Jharmeen Qu'taro once loved me as a sister...

...and that, with that knowledge alone, we must warn her regarding the probability of Roan using Thoran. I'm certain the Dark Lord would love to to undo her, even after his own death."

After a quiet moment, Erik replied with, "Allright then," he said, motioning towards the beckoning opening hatch of the transport, "Let's see if we can get this thing warmed up before Phalomir and Dantares return..."

A smile crossed Panthar’s lips. He sucked in a deep breath and let rage flow through him. A vicious whisper coursed off his tongue.

“You dirty son of a – “ he hissed as sprung upwards, aiming two powerful fists at the back of Phalomir’s head.

Panthar felt raw power surge through him and brought down his fists as hard as he could towards the giant being in front of him. Sucker punch from behind or not, this was going to feel good and help make up for the turmoil this whole situation had brought Panthar. Every ounce of pain he had been put through, every helpless moment of violation he had felt, was all wrapped up in that one strike.

The fists came down hard, connecting with the nape of Phalomir’s neck. A bright red flash of light emanated from the contact point, and massive bolts of pure pain rocked through Panthar’s body. He was flung backwards at an incredible speed, crashed into the wall behind him, and sank to the floor.

Panthar’s vision blurred and darkened. He struggled for consciousness, and dimly saw Phalomir turn and look down. Strange echoes rang in his ears, and he saw Phalomir’s lips move. A distant voice followed close behind.

“Do not toy with me, human,” Phalomir’s hollow voice rang. “For if you harbor any hope of returning to your own fragile body, you shall play the role of the one whose body you inhabit. To all others, you are Thoran. Now gather yourself and follow me, we leave this hall of useless memories immediately.”

What in the Universe was going on? Was something going on with the Eye? After all, the flashes of red she had been seeing in conjunction with these bursts of power were reminiscent of how Panthar had described the Eye...

...was the Force trying to warn her of something? Or trying to help her remember something? What?

With effort, she jerked herself from her thoughts to at last answer Erik. "I keep getting this vision of red accompanied by some sort of burst of power...

...I had that just now."

Even as she said this, approaching footsteps indicated the imminent arrival of Phalomir and Panthar. Shayla looked back to see them as they entered the cabin...

...and was surprised to see Panthar-- in the body of Thoran of course-- looking like he'd just been rancor-whipped or worse. She couldn't help but stare, an eyebrow arched, as he struggled to get into the passenger's seat. Then her greeny-blue eyes shot to Phalomir, locking on him. For the barest of moments she hesitated. Then, "This transport is quite a bit different than the Sith ship I have flown, but even so I think I've figured out the controls fairly well. So--

--unless there is something futher we need to discuss--

--let's get going."

With that, Shayla turned back to the navboard, her fingers playing across it and bringing the transport up and out of Trelanicius's hidden abode, there to begin soaring through atmosphere as the cabin echoed in silence.

"And by the way," Shayla stated suddenly, breaking the quiet and turning slightly to eye Phalomir, "I think I should remind you that couldn't tell you about Graysith the last time we were on K'eel Doba because, until quite recently, those memories I have of her...

...and everything I ever knew of the Sith race...

...were blocked."

Before Phalomir ever replied, Shayla turned back to the navboard, her fingers going to work once again as she then completely changed the topic. "Shall we do a short hyperspace jump to cut our travel time...?"

What possible explanations could be offered for Thoran? Why did he not transfer back to his body? Why did Panthar make the jump instead? Was Thoran indeed under the influence of the demon? Or worse, was it the Eye itself that had engineered this?

Phalomir reached out softly and felt the Eye, somewhere near in the grand cosmos, and knew then he could find a way to seek it. Perhaps Thoran could wait, for maybe it would be of benefit to gather allies and information before finding Thoran, regardless of who was responsible. With this thought his mind turned towards the Dark Lady, and he shuddered.

"The Empire will be waiting regardless of where we head next," she stated simply. "You were able to assist me in evading them before somehow...

...I was hoping you'd be able to do so once again, though not quite so...

forcefully."

She paused for a moment then, considering Phalomir's mention of a plan...

...and realizing that she hadn't the first idea of how they were going to proceed. Up until now she had simply been following her heart. "As for a plan," she then said aloud, her eyes distant as she thought, "I can't say I have one. If the spirit of Roan is working through Thoran to accomplish his own goals, I can't say that there is anyone who might be able to thwart him excepting Graysith..."

She trailed a moment, a thought then occuring to her, "...or perhaps the Dark Lord of the Sorcerors and his heir," she continued. "But then, I don't know if we can trust them at this point. Graysith has recently come to believe that the Dark Lord dabbled in deception to attain his own agendas, but..."

Again she trailed, her eyes still distant as thoughts whirled in her mind, "...even so this may be something in which he may assist. I do not believe Lord Aelveedar would want any harm to come to Graysith, regardless of his own desires...

...and there is no one else who has the capability to help us...

...not even all the Jedi in the Universe."

Romanus felt a little fatigued, the day's weariness finally catching up to him. But he couldn't sleep yet...not until he asks her a question...

"What are you, exactly?" Romanus asked, his face strained from trying to figure out that question by himself. "At first I took you for a Sith lord until I started to sense something different about you, like the Force itself was...uncertain."

The assassin took a step forward before continuing. "And then, unless I drank too much of that brandy, you start dissappearing and reappearing out of nowhere. No Force-user I've seen can carry that kinda power."

He wandered deeply into the cave system, easily avoiding obstacles and making snap decisions when presented with intersections. Eventually he came to a cavern and paused.

The cavern pulsated slightly with a red hue which seemed to emanate from the very rock. The walls were clean and glistening with moisture, and indeed the temperature in the cavern was tolerable, almost warm. Thoran walked to the fall wall of the cavern and knelt before the lone object resting in this large cavern.

The object resembled a block of ice, just over 5 feet tall and 3 feet wide. Thoran gazed at the figure frozen inside, smiling as he took in her beauty. He let his gaze move along her slender figure, her long red hair, and finally stopped to stare into the violet eyes, still brilliant even in this frozen stasis.

“This is amazing, my lord” he said after a time.

Is it not? I warned you to be prepared for amazement.

“How is this possible” asked Thoran.

But then, perhaps confront is too harsh a word, the thought brushed through her mind. This is indeed now my own chosen ally and bodyguard. And a leader retains his allies by showing faith in them. Either that, or through great force and fear.

She cocked her head a bit to one side and stared steadily into Romanus's dark eyes. The only movement she made was in the clasping together of her hands; they locked together within the sleeves of her robe in a motion denoting nothing but utter calmness and serenity. He in turn remained silent before her, his attitude neither subservient nor overbearing, his features matching hers in impassivity.

Only his eyes seemed a bit darker than usual.

A smile flickered across her lips.

"I am who I said I am, Romanus," she began, letting the opener linger in the dim stone hallway. From somewhere in the distance there came the briefly crescendoing sound of footfalls which then faded away, as some minion went about his or her business within the Great Temple of the Warriors. "The wife and consort of Recinis Q'utaro, then Dark Lord of the Warriors of the Sith, a union which has by law conferred unto me the title of Dark Lady... a title which I have retained by defeating the Lady Roan in her Challenge of Entitlement.

"Other than that...."

Now her voice trailed, her violet eyes grew vague as images of over three years involvement with the Sith rose up to beat against her vision. She was not stupid; only a dolt would have accepted that as answer-- and Romanus was no dolt. The concern of exactly what to reply diminished then, as wave after wave of memory came flooding over her: the day she had discovered that chamber in the cave; her killing her own father; fleeing the deserted planet for its sister Khar Delba and there her fateful meeting with Darth Wicked; her returning Aelvedaar to this time, rescuing him from his own death in the distant past; Aelvedaar's rescuing her in turn from Wicked's betrayal and her subsequent training by that powerful sorcerer; her involvement with Gouyen Chee; the hunt for Galen; the abduction of Shayla and teaching her of the All; her entanglement with Ankrist Roan; the birth of the Daughters; the entrance of the evil that was Entaris; her meeting Recinis, the only real love she had ever known in her life, and his apparent betrayal as well; the return of the Sith; her ensuing flight to Dagobah and what she had learned in that twisted and cold grove of gnarltrees....

On and on the images came in a rush. It was almost as if she were dying, and the last three years of her life were flashing in front of her eyes. But through it all, there remained one solid assurety, one thing she had been able to rely upon no matter what happened, no matter how the paradigms changed or what new challenges Fate had tossed her way throughout those three years.

And that was her loyalty to the Sith.

And now, for the first time, deep down inside of herself, she suddenly found herself wondering...

Why.

Who was she? A human female unable to return to her own kind for the murder of her father. The wife of an ex-Dark Lord, yet still remaining a Dark Lady herself. One holding a strength given to her purportedly to return the Sith to a future, a future they were cheated out of over 4,000 years in the past. A strength she had thought was omnipotent... but one she was suddenly finding to be somehow channelled. Leashed. Not subdued, but...

Muzzled.

That realization brought home the stark reality of exactly how little she really knew about this ancient and noble race. What she knew was simply a bit more than the universe in general: that the Sith were powerful and magickal... only in their end days they had discovered the All, and had chosen her as their implement.

Graysith suddenly found herself staring blankly into the eyes of the quietly waiting Romanus, one slender hand raised to lay lightly upon the gently glowing Glyph. It had remained quiescent within her, as had the Beast, who instead merely raised its huge incorporeal head to keep a wary watch over events.

"I am the Lady Q'utaro, Dark Lady of the Warriors," she began once again to rattle off the titles. "I am...."

She paused for a moment in sudden loss. For who she was was someone only in connection to another. On her own two feet, she was merely Jharmeen JhinDarr Q'utaro.

So be it.

She straightened imperceptibly, her eyes darkening. Now a smile of an entirely different sort curled across her lips, and she stepped back and to the side. One hand swept out indicating the door to her private chambers.

Her eyes had never left Romanus's.

"I am the Chosen Daughter of the Sith," she announced, nodding her head a bit yet again toward the richly gleaming and carved wood. "A great gift has been given to me; let me tell you more of it..."

The overly chastened Ensign's voice rang out across the bridge in unsuppressed excitement. "There is a ship approaching the Khar Delban thermosphere from below!"

His hands danced of their own accord across his panel, bringing to life the image of a strangely designed and yet slow-moving ship. It looked like some sort of exotic insect, glimmering there against the brilliance of the Khar Delban day.

The Ensign cocked an ear as the Officer on Deck approached and bent over his shoulder. He held his eyes to his board, though, grimly determined not to let this one slip past his notice or evade his actions. Too many ships had blithely come and gone upon these unexpectedly alive worlds; by now their teeming life was something of a natural event as far as the Empire's concern went.

What was of concern was what was happening upon those worlds. Which was why the order had been greatly and repeatedly stressed to belay and tractor in any departing ships from any of them. That was the first of Lt. General Tarnus's commands upon his arrival aboard; the Ensign vowed and declared to himself that he simply was not going to screw up again.

He gritted his teeth, the transport's coordinates already computed and locked into the tractor controls computer. His hand hovered over the enable sigil.

He waited.

He didn't have to wait long. A comradely hand dropped on his shoulder, gave it a squeeze. That hand belonged to an officer who well knew what this particular young man had been through lately; a sort of unity passed quietly between the pair.

"Bring them in, Ensign," the Officer's quiet voice commanded.

"Aye, Sir!" came the automatic response, even as the Ensign hit the enable switch. The tractor beam ravened out from the belly of the monster SSD, cutting through the upper atmosphere and latched onto the strange ship like a rancor snatching his dinner.

Bit by bit the ship found itself being dragged away from the planet toward the ominously waiting super star destroyer.

The Ensign smiled and sat back with a little sigh.

...but to no avail. Realizing there was zero percent of escape, Shayla forced herself to relax, sat back in the piloting chair, and shut down all systems before damage was done to the transport as the tractor continued its pull on them. As the transport's engines whirred into silence, she leaned the rest of the way back, sighing in utter defeat. For a moment the cabin hung in a heavy silence...

...then in a swift motion, Shayla swiveled around and let her greeny-blue eyes lock on Phalomir. "Well, dammit, do something!" she spat, recalling once more how he had dealt with this situation before. Then, with an air of utter sarcasm, she finished with, "I highly doubt we can tell the Imps we've just been visiting friends..."

Indeed, her use of the All had assured the latter.

The smile widened in amusement when Romanus came to a stiff halt just inside the door.

"Oh really, Romanus, I won't bite," she began, turning away from the fireplace and going over to the doorway leading to the balcony. Even though she did not exit the room for that balcony, she could clearly see the glory that was Phrinnchatka spread there below; she hesitated a moment before reaching suddenly out to the rich draperies with both arms, and in one swift move closing them in against the final source of possibly prying eyes.

She turned smoothly round and faced the dark assassin.

"The Sith, as you can see, are an ancient and powerful race of beings, one of the most magickally endowed in the entire history of the universe," she began without preamble. She blinked and once again folded her hands together in front of her, but never took her eyes off of Romanus's.

"Over four thousand years ago, what the galaxy has come to understand as Sith came in the form of rogue jedi, who used the dark side of the Force to overcome this race of beings, who..." She paused for breath. "...who, as with all powerful and overly self-assured races, degraded to the point where that was allowed to happen. In those frantic end-times, some of their sorcerers finally learned to harness what has been come to be called the All; it is this power which enables me to perform acts the mere Force cannot do."

Pausing again to lick suddenly dry lips, she approached Romanus and came to a halt before him. For a moment there was no other sound than that of their breathing, and the crackle of the flames in the fireplace.

"The All is not so much another force, as it is all forces, Romanus," she continued. "The Force is but a portion of it; indeed, perhaps the Force and the All are one and the same, and as with the Force it is but a matter of perspective in how it is tapped into and utilized.

"For in this day and age, there is dark and light. Black and white. Good and evil, Romanus; this is what makes the Universe tick, what separates us from each other, what gives us our perspective on life and how to live it. The All is above it all; it IS both good and evil, both dark and light; when one can see beyond the here and now into the Greater Picture, one can step above this simple demarcation and thus use the powers which exist there quite naturally, powers with can be used by those with true understanding.

"As well as powers with allow for the manipulation of space and time. In this respect, it truly is all known forces which exist... and can thus easily overtake the punier portion of itself which has since come to be known as the Force."

She paused again, now inching even closer to the assassin, and went so far as to lay a hand upon his chest.

"The Sith are by nature a magickal race, Romanus; it is this ability of theirs with which they rose to their earlier omnipotence. Only the Dark Side of the Force, along with their concurrent degradation as a civilization, enabled the dark jedi to overcome them, and take their name upon themselves.

"But the Sith have returned, as you clearly know, Romanus. Inherent magicks and all. And with them they bring their knowledge of the All... and the ability for certain of their race to use it."

She inched even closer, and laid her other hand next to the first. Volumes swam in the depths of her eyes, which bored up into those of Romanus. She continued.

"It is this power that I wield; it has been emblazoned into me across the eons by their most powerful sorcerer, Dark Lord Aelvedaar. Furthermore, it is now part and parcel of my being. It will leave me not. But there is one who has the ability to somehow dampen my use of it; it is this creature that I need your assistance with, Romanus."

She paused again, closing her eyes and now reaching up to lay cool fingers against Romanus's temples, and through that connection allowed the image of Panthar Dantares to flow inward, as well as images of the red glow that had emanated from his body, and the essence of the other beings inhabiting it at the time. For a lengthy moment she remained still; then she opened her eyes.

His were very close to hers.

"The Sith once controlled the galaxy... and now can touch the power that can overcome the Force. They can quite easily rise to omnipotence again, Romanus; the Empire is but a child before them, as are the pale jedi. They will indeed rise to lead once more, my friend. The Sith will control the galaxy; perhaps even the known universe.

"And those who control the Sith will as well."

A wry smile crossed Phalomir’s lips.

“And is not wise to keep one’s enemies close?” he chimed.

“Which reminds me, Thoran,” he said, turning to Panthar. “As my squire, you shall be required to attend to my needs. Do not forgot that, ever.”

He then turned back to Shayla.

...but rather very much aware...

...of my association and..."

She paused, something vague yet somewhat sad flitting across her eyes, "...former position with the Sith. My name...

...and probably my face...

...will be recognizable to them, if not immediately then certainly shortly after we have landed and they've contacted authorities higher up. I'm uncertain what they may do once they do realize who I am."

Here she paused, her greeny-blues once more only for Phalomir. After a moment, however, she turned back to the viewport even as they touched down in what had to be the main hangar bay of a rather inpressive SSD.

Well, Shayla thought darkly even as she felt the ship lock in place, probably held down by a tractor beam, At least this isn't the first time I've been aboard an SSD, though gods know the last time was under much friendlier conditions to say the very least...

"We might as well face what will be," she then said to everyone, "After all, doesn't look like we'll be going anywhere."

Even as she said this, she reached for the control which she now knew opened the hatch of the transport. Even as it yawned open, Shayla stepped forward, trying to remember all those things about Jedi-calm from her years in the Praxeum with her brother as the others in the transport began to join her.

Sometimes there are just things you can't avoid, she reminded herself. It's what you do during those times that counts...

"Perhaps I chose you for that reason entirely," she whispered at length, still staring up into his eyes. "There is a great strength within you; this I sense clearly. The sword--"

She paused, her eyes flickering down to the assassin's concealing coat, where the weapon now lay snugged closely to his side. She turned those luminous, violet eyes up to his again.

"The sword likewise has within it a great strength and ability, one which recognizes its twin in you, and thus remains docile in your grasp-- docile to you, or to me, that is."

She stood there a moment, pondering briefly as to how much more she should say. At length--

"There are none like you in the galaxy, Romanus," she breathed softly. "The Sith fell once before the power wielded by the dark jedi; I sense a dark strength within you which far overshadows that. Remember, not all Sith can utilize the All... as far as they are concerned, it is virgin to them. And--"

Within Romanus's clasp she wiggled the finger encased by the Claw of S'slan. It's razor tip raked every so gently against his palm, drawing a thin red line there.

"For the most part, this will hold at bay those who do manage to use this newfound power. All but those I have already introduced to you."

She paused again, remaining quiet now. Time ticked on, the suddenly pregnant silence accentuated by the sound of the fire, by their soft breathing, by the beating of hearts.

She made a final consideration.

"The Sith have been governed throughout their history by what they call The Triad: by the Dark Lords who in turn lead the three existing clans of Warrior, Sorcerer and Armorer. From information I have received, the warriors have recently withdrawn from that, declaring autonomy, vowing to swear allegiance to one Lord and Lady only, not to three."

Another silence fell, in which she took the tiniest of backward steps. Gently she removed her left hand from Romanus's grasp, held it up. The golden Tattoo of Entitlement gleamed upon its wrist in the firelight.

"I am not Sith, yet I am Dark Lady of the Warriors, the most powerful of the Sith clans. This is the clan who will rise to the forefront as the governing body of this civilization, in turn easily the most powerful in the known galaxy. Clearly, whoever controls the Warriors will control the Sith. And whoever controls the Sith will eventually control all."

She waggled the Claw again for emphasis, then allowed that hand to drop. It disappeared in the folds of her cloak, which yet dripped like liquid fire-emblazoned smoke from her other arm, still raised and held in Romanus's grasp.

"While they break away from standing tradition, the warriors still hold certain things dear, Romanus."

She let those words draw her yet closer to the silent, black-coated being. The image of the increasingly loyal Salandaar flashed across her mind, only to be immediately dismissed.

"They admire and respect strength, and they expect to be led by a Lord and a Lady.

"Dark Lord Roan is dead, leaving me as sole... director over these warriors.

"And I do not at the moment have so much as a consort."

Now she pulled her remaining hand from his grasp, and took another small step backwards. She just stood there a moment, finally concluding with:

"I first chose you for the strength I sensed within you, for the inherent abilities I know you possess, for the sheer uniqueness which is you. I sent the Sword into your possession to assist you in what challenges that may rise against you... against us.

"I now make another choice in your favor, Romanus, should you desire to accept it. I do so because..."

She paused, clasped her hands together again, stood quietly staring up into his dark eyes. In doing so she lifted her face upward a bit, the movement causing the hood of her cloak to fall backward, revealing the flaming thickness of her hair.

"I desire the best, and you clearly are that. You intrigue me."

The Reborn Guards who had brought the three saluted respectfully as they handed them over, then took a step back. They looked casual enough... but I well knew of their abilities, as well as of the blinding speed in which those abilites could be called forth. Even though the two red-skinned beings towered over my guards, I didn't hold so much as a drip of trepidation.

My Reborn were that good.

I swallowed the last of my surprise, but outwardly remained absolutely calm, stony in my entire aspect. Gods but I love this armor; it certainly was handy for sending little ripples of aforementioned trepidation skittering up and down the backs of whoever I chose to plant that enigmatic visor upon. While the tallest of the Sith -- for of course I recognized them as that right from the start -- didn't appear cowed in the slightest, his companion's borderline panic filled the room like some dark and thick miasma. His eyes were widened and dilated, his breathing heavy; clearly he was beyond trepidation and into a realm approaching terror.

I smiled behind my helmet.

Let him stew.

Ignoring the taller of the two then, I turned my head minisculely to the side, pinned that visor upon an entirely too-familiar figure. She stood there quietly enough, but there was something I could yet sense oozing from her. Not fear exactly, but...

Worry? Concern?

Sadness....

I worked my jaw a bit, considering them, letting the silence stretch out while I took this in and stowed it for future use. Inside my helmet, I jawed open a private link to the hangar bay.

"Sir," a tinny voice crackled in my ear.

"I want that ship our new... friends arrived in gone over with a fine-toothed comb," I ordered, knowing my words were only heard by the soldier on the other end of the link. "Every lick of it, every system. Do not waste the time you have with it, and see that your men are thorough."

Indeed, the fact that this ship had fallen into our hands was invaluable; the fighter I had managed to appropriate from Seus remained stubborn to our best efforts to reveal its secrets. This ship however, in being vulnerable to our tractors, offered a chance to understand the almost mystic technology of this race... which in turn could possibly open the door into the creation of an entire fleet of their fighters.

I flicked the link off in the wake of responding affirmation, and directed my full attention to the trio before me. Deciding that enough time had passed, I leaned back in my seat, now flicking an open channel to the room in general.

"I see you are still gadding about with your... friends, Ms. Petrolu," I began, the tone of my voice approaching -- but not quite reaching -- joviality.

"May I ask what it is that has brought you back into this system, or--" I hesitated a hair's-breadth.

Just like that... he thought, still disoriented by this sudden turn of events. The Sword that rested in his coat was forgotten as he looked deeper into Graysith's eyes. The full realization of the position he is in, the kind of power that was laid out before him, struck Romanus with a fullness he never felt before...like he finally reached the end of some long journey.

The moment passed, and Romanus smiled, confident of what he is about to do...

“I am responsible for this party,” Phalomir stated boldly. “You shall address me and only me. I shall be pleased to hold discussions with you, but not as a captive. Kindly state your reasons for abducting my group, then recite your apology and prepare for our release.”

For the slightest moment, Phalomir's eyes seemed to flash a bright green. Below his robes, Phalomir's skin glowed softly.

Far away, on a Sith world, in a softly-lit chamber, a tender moment was interrupted by a sudden weakness in the knees.

Then she reached up a hand and laid it lightly upon the one which touched her face with the grace of a bird, one whose killing strength seemed to be suddenly masked by that gesture. She let her eyes flow into those of Romanus, drawing him closer yet.

"Anything you desire," she whispered at length, quieting then, poised upon a shivering edge of expectation which was suddenly shattered as something struck her unexpectedly, sending her knees to shaking in sudden refusal to support her weight.

It was all I could do to keep my demeanor calm, to remain unmoving as the supercilious words came floating into my ears. But then, after consideration, it really was all I could do to refrain from laughing, from returning that arrogance with similar fare.

I sniffed, raised a finger minutely. Behind the party -- a party of four I suddenly discovered, now seeing another familiar face straining around from behind the two towering Sith -- my Reborn tensed visibly, ready to spring into action with their unique talents, talents gained from their introduction into the Valley, doubled from the norm, dark talents once used to defeat the very race of which these two red-skinned being were representative.

Behind my visor I stared coldly at the larger Sith, who was standing with his arms crossed, the very epitome of strained effrontery. If I myself looked hard enough, I'm sure I'd see his bruised ego hanging there on his arm.

I let the moment stretch out into an uncomfortably lengthy one. The Reborn inched their fingers toward their lightsabers. And finally --

"As I was saying, Ms. Petrolu. What is it that has kept you so involved with these people... people who, I might add, seem to have suddenly erupted into being from thin air?"

As if I hadn't a clue as to how that had occurred!

But though my words were directed toward the young blonde woman, my eyes never for a moment left those of the Sith.

Then she glanced over to her husband, who was standing somewhere behind Phalomir with a frown on his face. Shayla didn't even have to guess to know he was probably thinking something very similiar. At that she turned back to Tarnus, whose visor was still locked on Phalomir. She opened her mouth to reply to his question...

...then simply closed it. Suddenly she was entirely at a loss as to what to reply at all; she had been a Sith adept, a Chosen sister...

...but the words which were suddenly registering in her mind were had been.

Her eyes grew vague a moment, and her hesitation in answering the former bounty hunter's question was probably obvious. But perhaps a realization of sorts was starting to spring somewhere deep within Shayla's psyche...

...so deeply that perhaps she wasn't even entirely aware of it...

... yet.

At length her greeny-blue eyes snapped into focus, and she answered the only thing she could, really. "It's Mrs. Petrolu-Kartan,," she started. Then she continued with, "And I'm here because of loyalties I still hold due to things in the past...

...and also because I'm still looking for some answers regarding those things in the past."

Even as she said this then quieted, a small voice deep inside whispered: It's in the past, Shayla...

...let it go.

But she didn't quite hear it...

...not just yet.

At the very least.

I nodded once, ordering those guards to back down, and slowly stood to my feet. Again I let a long moment pass between us, relishing the way the smaller Sith's brilliant eyes were flicking back and forth between Ms. Petrolu--

All right, all right. Ms. Petrolu-Kartan!

--the towering Sith, and myself. In one smooth motion I leaned forward, splaying my fingers out on top of my desk, and for another moment more simply regarded this arrogant so-and-so.

You could cut the tension with a knife.

Still staring the Sith straight in the eye, I continued as if nothing had happened.

"Perhaps if you would be so kind as to divulge those events of the past of which you make mention, you might find the Empire willing to assist you in resolving those issues, Ms. Petrolu-Kartan," I said smoothly.

The smaller of the Sith seemed to wince at my words.

...or how to proceed. And she didn't know if she could trust this guy, or his new Empire.

"It appears as if..."

Shayla trailed, her eyes turning vague.

Appears, Shayla? It is, and you're trying your damnedest to deny it...

"...I no longer hold the place I once did with the Sith. Even so, my former Teacher may be in grave danger...

...danger which she may not be entirely aware of. I can't simply sit by and let something happen...

...and I have to warn her, if not for the fact that I'm simply concerned...

...then because I need to know if there is anything left of what once was...

...and of what I once held so close to my heart."

At that, Shayla fell silent, knowing Phalomir was probably steaming at the fact that she was saying a word after his display...

...but frankly not caring at the moment. After all, if he could ignore her ...

...then the boot could be placed on the other foot...

So, it has to do with her, that sister of Galen; that's all which occupies Ms. Petrolu's mind, I thought, even as the words of the Sith flamed out over her head to entirely sizzle them into obscurity.

I remained where I was, poised over my desk, stone-still except for another slight nod to the Reborn who had seemed to draw in a united breath, once more reaching for their weapons. Once again they backed down, still on guard, giving me a few precious seconds more in which to think.

Dammit, who the hell was this guy anyway? The words burst across my mind from nowhere. His dress isn't anything remotely as elegant as what I have seen adorning what Sith Lords I have met on K'eel Doba, yet he acts like one of them... actually, his attitude reminds me a helluva lot more like that dark slimeball Desolist who Galen and I had tangled with....

I jerked away from that, and slowly sat down. Quietly I laced my fingers together.

"And just who exactly are you, Phalomir?" I finally asked, formally acknowledging the giant Sith by my first use of his name. "Do you think you have answers to those questions I may ask, considering you are not of this timeframe?"

Panthar couldn’t stand it any longer. He threw his hands in the air and let out a short exasperated scream.

“Oh, will you all just stop it?!” he shouted, ignoring the looks from the guards. “Look, these bozos are up here because they don’t trust the Sith. Phal, you are up here because you don’t trust the Sith! Looks to me like you all have something in common! You’ve got conspiracies, dark lady babes with secret ultra-powerful do-wizzers, and dumbos of all sorts wanting to rule the galaxy again! And don’t forget your good buddy who is off with you-know-who’s sweet ass! Literally! For crying out loud, just tell each other what the freakin’ heck is going on and DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT!”

Panthar stopped and looked at the several pairs of eyes... and one helmet... now staring at him.

I blinked, turned my head back from the panting shorter of the two, and planted my visor upon the growling giant of a Sith.

"Perhaps you would be so kind as to open this particular hand," I said smoothly, leaning back and making myself comfortable. For after all, I had all the time in the universe.

“As I said, I am Phalomir. I am the rightful heir of the Dark Lord of the Sorcerers. At least, I was. Several -- years -- ago my father was murdered in a conspiracy that was rooted in the very heart of the Sith government. I was removed from the Sith for a time and do not know nor understand the current ruling bodies. I seek answers, as I suspect you do as well, but for other reasons. Ms. Petrolu has had dealings with the current dark lady of the warriors, one of the ruling bodies I do not know nor understand.”

I smiled behind my helmet. The shorter Sith looked somehow... lost, while Ms. Petrolu-Kartan and her significant other merely exchanged wary glances. As for the glowering giant....

My armor creaked slightly as I settled myself deeper into my seat. One finger flicked out and snagged a particular switch, then I returned my full focus to those in front of me. In particular, to the self-proclaimed heir, who simply swam with scarcely contained impatience.

"The Empire?" I returned, lightening my voice and cocking my head a touch to one side. I leaned forward now, suddenly earnest.

"We are the current governing body of the galaxy your planets are revolving about in, my friend. You are speaking to the third in command and emperor-- I winced inwardly at the term. Drat, that wasn't me, wasn't what we were all about, but semantics are semantics after all. "--pro temp."

The foursome jostled a bit as from behind one of my Reborn appeared with a laden tray held in his armored hands. He came silently forward, and set it down on the desk. Straightening, he snapped off a smart salute, turned crisply, and departed from whence he came.

I could smell the aroma of the tray's contents even through my helmet. Sighing a bit, I settled myself yet again, and raised a gloved hand to indicate unassuming chairs that ringed my ready room.

"Please take a seat and share a cup of tea," I said, finishing inwardly with:

While your mind wraps around the fact that things just ain't the way they used to be.

Gradually the unexpected weakness faded; the Glyph flared in avowed vengeance as renewing strength flooded into her, lighting Romanus's face in its eerie ultraviolet glow. Graysith straightened in his light but solid grasp, let out one small and shaken sigh, then turned her face up into his.

"I have felt this before, Romanus," she breathed, staring directly into his eyes. "And I know who holds what it is that does this to me.

"Clearly, this reveals but one of the reasons I need you as bodyguard to me... and more."

She paused, now under complete control of herself again, and merely stood quietly, still snugged close to the dark assassin, still staring up and deeply into his eyes.

"How do you answer, Romanus?" she breathed, her voice very soft and low...

But I wasn't created for this! A bodyguard I can do but this is something I'm not--

Staring into her eyes and holding her in his arms made Romanus lose his train of thought. A second later, all reason escaped him as Romanus went forward and kissed Graysith on the lips. By then, all worries and all doubts were gone from his mind, and all he could think about was her.

But Romanus ended the kiss only a moment later, just so he could ask one last question. "Will that answer suffice, milady?"

“Very civil of you,” said Phalomir. “You have my gratitude.”

He took another sip and smiled slightly.

“Please forgive my levity, but not having seen what I have already seen, I would have responded to you with a quote much along the lines of ‘thank you for ruling our galaxy during our absence, but your services are no longer needed.’ If you have a prior association with Ms. Petrolu, then I must assume you already know something of the Sith. And if that is true, then I suspect you would expect to hear such a response.”

Phalomir took a longer sip and emptied the cup.

“However, since my return to the Sith I have encountered a number of people and things I do not particularly care for. I do not understand how the Sith lost rule of the galaxy, and I am not convinced the Sith of this time are worthy to rule again. It is enough that the warriors are led by a human, I hesitate to think of the state of the other clans. I wish to travel to the clans and learn of the situations in each one, then rectify the problems. Perhaps, if your empire is strong, we may find ways to assist each other.”

Phalomir lowered his head slightly.

And preferably later. There was, after all, a time and a place for everything.

Her smile deepened, her eyes darkened with more than words could express.

"It is a start, Romanus," she breathed, reaching up to twine her arms about his neck.

Nay, she is not a clone. She was plucked from death across many years, from a time now past but once far into the future.

“But how, my lord?”

When one has mastery of all things Sith, one will understand. You need only understand that in my time, many such things were possible. But, my son, there is more to amaze you. Another long lost friend of mine – of ours – plucked from death. He is a from a time still to come.

Thoran smiled and walked past the icy crystal. A smaller chamber lay behind the strange fixture. He walked inside, the light stick further illuminating the softly glowing red walls. He stopped and saw a similar crystal object inside, this one much larger. It contained a large male, apparently Sith. He stepped closer, and using a nearby stone as a stepping stool wiped the dust from the top. He immediately recognized the face.

“Oh, my lord, this is indeed a surprise.”

Magnificent, is it not? Yes, soon the arrogant brat will be beside himself in envy.

An eerie chuckle resounded in Thoran’s head.

Now we must retrieve a device.

The voice caught Phalomir by surprise, causing him to flinch slightly. It wafted through his head in a hollow echo.

Phalomir, my son. You are in grave danger, as is the entire race.

“Father?” thought Phalomir, trying to not send visual signals to the helmeted figure.

Yes, Phalomir, it is reasonable to call me such. But listen, my time is short. The Eye harbored more than you and Thoran, another sat quietly with you, hiding, manipulating Thoran. It now seeks to finish its work, it was the author of the final line of prophecy. ‘One son to rule them all’, and I fear I know what it means. Find the Armorers, the old ones will know of this demon, and will know what to do when the son of Trelanicus comes to claim the Finger of R’lous. Remember, the demon possesses the Eye, but you possess its power.

Warriors led by a human??? Oh Galen my dear, it would seem your sister holds many of your own endearing qualities, doesn't she -- qualities she has managed to keep well-hidden for some time. But--

Hadn't she been connected to that other Sith, the one referred to as Recinis? What had happened there? I thought it was the other guy, the bigger, mystical one with the sweeping horns, who was running the show on K'eel Doba; what's with this sudden switch to this Graysith, my ex's dear sister, the one who had been hunting us so stringently for so long only to suddenly switch rontos in midstream -- and then now climb back aboard the same mount???

I drew in a deep but quiet breath, focusing outward again, and let the image of the quiet Sith come fully into my vision again. I blinked with the sudden realization that he was still quiet -- too quiet.

What's with that? He's certainly changed the steed he came galloping in on as well....

Pausing to take a sip of my cooling tea through my drinking straw, I reflected further on the words Phalomir had spoken.

Work together, ey?

I worked my jaw, and set my cup down. My armor creaked as I leaned forward once again.

"I agree with you in the abilities of your people, Phalomir," I began cautiously enough, for who the hell knew how he would react upon discovery that not only had his people been eradicated for four millennia at the hands of the dark jedi... but that those very same entities were now the foundation of the Empire and it's governship. While it would be all-too easy to flaunt the fact, I didn't want to face an altercation here.

Something told me that this was a situation to be handled far differently than the one on Tatooine....

"But...."

Again I paused in self debate, now letting my eyes shift back to the quiet Ms. Petrolu-Kartan and consider the words she had spoken in a new light.

She had fears for Graysith, with whom she had been closely affiliated... now she was ousted for some reason, yet held these same fears. This Big Guy was grumbling about the leadership of this selfsame woman....

What, as would be how my charming ex would have put it, in Hell's Seven Circles was going on in these newly-alive worlds of the Sith??? And upon further and more worrisome consideration:

How would it impact the Empire?

I really had no concerns about our own strengths. But after such a basically bloodless coup, we did not need another equivalent of the Rebellion of Old to come blasting forth, giving fuel to whatever smaller fires that might yet be smoldering to a quiet death on those planets we had taken. Governmental changes take time for people to recognize, and along the way Actar wanted nothing so much as the people to realize that we really were here for their own good, and that we had shown our good will by the remarkably low number of deaths that had occurred in our coup.

I put thoughts of that carefully to one side, and focused once more on Phalomir. The others waited, taking quick little sips of their tea and looking extremely uncomfortable.

I nodded, coming to a sudden decision. There comes a time for honesty in every diplomatic confrontation, and now was certainly that.

"The Sith were defeated and erased from the galaxy over four thousand years ago, my friend," I announced, not moving other than to set down my cup and settle once again in my chair. "Those using a power called The Force defeated them... defeated you; they took your name upon themselves, and for a time rose to command the galaxy in turn.

"It wasn't pretty."

I paused, thought a bit. Damn, I wish I knew more than what I learned in school, the general history and all.... But then, school had never been my strong suit.

"As you said, ships and mere soldiers alone would not suffice to overcome you. But the Sith..." I interrupted myself, shook my head at the slip. "...excuse me, that is dark jedi did indeed have the strength to overcome your, ahh... inherent abilities.

"Abilities I assume you still command?"

I folded my hands together upon the table, wondering what in all the galaxy would be dire enough to offer danger to the one I thought untouchable, and once more found myself toying with accepting this Sith's offer of working together. For I had seen Graysith in action... there was little to stop the power she held.

But perhaps the strengths of the Reborn combined with those magicks...

...and didn't this guy say he was son of a sorcerer?

Not quite ready to acknowledge his offer of alliance, if it could even be called that, I simply picked up my cup and took another sip of my tea.

Phalomir relaxed a bit more.

“That is not entirely unknown to me, although I appreciate the information. As for my abilities, please understand, as difficult as this may be, that I am from a time even before the fall of the Sith. Before the treachery which led to the fall of our reign, the Sith were… different. More secure, more united. My abilities are… greater.”

Phalomir considered his next words.

Yet it would be utter folly to ignore this Sith and what he was saying, that much was crystal clear. For if there was something dark on the horizon, dark enough to threaten the incredible powers Galen's sister now held...

...then that darkness was certainly to come sniffing our way.

And that was something I simply could not allow.

I made another decision. Setting my cup down, I rose to my feet. For a moment I just stood there, staring at the foursome for a final last few moments through the darkened lenses of my T-visor. Then I quietly reached upward and removed my helmet.

The scar running down from my left temple jumped and quivered as I clenched my jaw, focusing my icy blue eyes directly into the brilliantly green pair before me.

"I believe an arrangement of sorts can be made," I said simply, pausing a fraction before reaching out an armored hand. I stopped, studied that hand a moment; then I pulled back my arm, quickly removed my gauntlet, and stuck it forth again in the universal symbol of friendship.

"While I am afraid that I cannot accompany you personally in your ventures--"

Although gods knew I wished I could, for somewhere mixed up in all of this was my baby girl, I was sure of it.

"--I can offer you whatever aid and assistance you might require. Please, if you have the time, remain aboard as my guest and... ally; perhaps we might discuss in more detail the assistance you require over dinner?

"If you would be so inclined as to join the Captain and I at his table, that is."

Out of the corner of his eye, Phalomir saw Shayla take in a breath as to speak.

“We are slightly pressed for time,” he said quickly, “but perhaps a moment of rest and conversation would be in order.”

He glanced to Shayla, who glared back.

“Is there a place we may freshen ourselves?” Phalomir grinned. “I trust our ship is not available at the moment?”

I managed only by stint of great effort to mask my immediate reaction to his mention of his ship, at least for the most part. After all, hadn't I gadded about the galaxy with Galen in another little ship of Sith origins--

Which was undoubtedly a far, far newer model!

--a ship which, with a start, I realized was yet held in Imperial hands.

I paused a moment to reflect.

Maybe not quite yet. Let this guy prove himself first. After all, that's the only one you've got....

Realizing that a tiny bit of humorous disdain was shining in my eyes, I let it swell into pure congeniality.

"Excellent, my friend," I announced, then motioned to the stiff Reborn who yet haunted the only egress from this room. They nodded obediently, then turned sideways, making a clear path for our sudden guests to pass through.

"My Reborn will show you a place where you may refresh yourselves before dinner, a dinner--"

I held up a restraining hand.

"A dinner which shall consist of light fare. Indeed, if you are pressed for time, far be it from us to be the ones to detain you any longer than is necessary.

"I shall see you at the Captain's table an hour from now."

Then I stood in silence, sending a final look into those brilliantly green eyes, and merely watched as he turned and followed the guards from my ready room.

Only then did I allow myself to sink back into my seat. Pursing my lips, I regained both my gauntlet and helm...

...and proceeded to just sit there in contemplation of what was possibly yet to be.

The Sith demanded strong leadership. The warriors yet bowed to their Dark Lady... but were bereft of a Lord. How long they would continue without an essential male counterpart she hadn't the slightest notion, but she felt certain that any balkiness on their part would now be allayed.

Romanus might not be a Dark Lord of the Sith -- at least not yet, and whether he would or not rise to that position was something only the future could reveal -- but he was now strongly bound to her as consort. That was something the Sith would recognize, if not by her words, then by the emotions which memories of this event would provoke in the dark assassin... and in that provocation relieve them of any anxieties regarding what final adherances to tradition might yet exist.

Her lips curled into a smile as she let her thoughts drift from their present track and back into reliving her personal discovery of yet another of her consort's hidden talents. Perhaps she would come to bask in those particular talents yet again, but for now....

She cut her eyes to where he lay beside her, watching her as she now watched him. Memory of his earlier and oh-so easily sensed feeling of... what she wasn't certain; doubt? ...flooded back into her. Another image flashed into her eyes, one coming from moments recently shared when circumstances had allowed her to view the back of his neck.

The carefully tattooed number 19 invited from her an entire galaxy's worth of questions about him.

She propped her head against one hand, the other reaching out to trace a light circle upon his bared chest.

"Tell me more of who you are, Romanus," she finally said, her voice soft and yet inviting, filling the room with her very essence. "Tell me of how much in common you have with Anakin Skywalker; I know only what history had to tell, and that was generalities: that he was the greatest of the Dark Jedi... but one who returned to the light."

She paused a moment more, sudden understanding rising within her at this realization. If the ability to operate from both light and dark existed in that infamous personage...

Did this capability likewise lurk within her newly-chosen consort?

A dark smile creased her lips, and she traced another circle upon his chest.

"Please," she continued. "It is something I desire to learn about you...."

She quieted then, and for a moment all that was heard was the sounds of the fire in the hearth.

Graysith's life was at risk...

...and they were stopping for a little chat and dinner...

...with a bunch of bigwigs from the Empire...

...who were their new ALLIES?!?

Her greeny-blue eyes blackened slightly.

Correction. Phalomir's new allies. NOT hers.

Deep inside, something which hadn't been given voice for quite some time in Shayla Stargazer rose and gained a voice. It cried out in renewed anger, balling its fists and shaking them as words scrolled across Shayla's mind in blood red.

They had killed her parents...

...all in the name of conquest. Some things would never change...

Pursing her lips, Shayla strained to keep her thoughts from spiraling down to even darker roots. But as the Reborn finally led them to quarters where they would be allowed to refreshen themselves before their dinner at the Captain's table, Shayla couldn't stop herself from turning to regard Phalomir across the way.

She didn't dare say a word. But the look in her eye all but screamed: I hope you know what you are getting yourself into...

“Shayla, Erik, even you, Panthar.” He said to each person individually. “I am taking a risk, but one that I feel may be worth the gamble. Please, bear with me, I feel we may need powerful allies both inside and outside of the Sith.”

He sat in one of the chairs.

"There is so much I could tell you, and so little time in which to do so," Shayla started, her eyes a bit distant as memories continued to play through her mind. "The important thing is that in my experience with her, Graysith had the ability both to love and to hate...

...and to act in whatever manner was most appropriate in the grand spectrum of things, regardless of how others may view it. She taught me..."

Shayla paused, biting her lowr lip, "She taught me to see the shades of gray in everything that happens; to see there is no definite good or bad, that it all depends upon the angle from which you view things. She loved me as a sister; as she would her very own flesh and blood...

"...but once her husband feld without a trace, leaving her in a possibly fatal situation..."

Again Shayla trailed, her look growing impossibly more vague. "...since then, things seem to have changed...

...and it is not only in Graysith that I have seen the change occur. The Dark Lord of the Sorcerors, who once even backed a Sith blood-oath between Graysith and a human, no longer seems to give a damn about humans...

...not since his race of peoples have returned. The Dark Lady, Graysith...

...has broken the link I once shared with her. And even before that but after her husband fled her response to me, as I look back on it, seems distant. Perhaps with the betrayal of her husband and possibly of the Dark Lord of the Sorcerors, the very one who made her Graysith...

...she has snapped. After all, she trusted them both very much..."

And she used to trust you too, Shayla, a small voice whispered deeply inside. She closed her eyes a moment, a pain filling her heart. Then she opened them, and forced herself to continue and not dwell on that thought.

"As for the other Dark Lords, the Lord of the Weaponry Clan, Suranas Rean, is dead. Roan has the heart of a warrior and an unbreakable will; he stopped at nothing to bring the Sith back, uncaring as to what he had to do to make this happen...

...and I suspect he will stop at nothing even in death. His only true weakness may be his arrogance..."

Pausing, Shayla swallowed to wet her throat, her thoughts again darkening as she turned to the final part of Phalomir's question, "The Empire..."

"...it may have changed. But it's still all about taking over the whole galaxy, one way or the other."

With that, Shayla then clammed up, not wishing to divulge any further on that particular note with big eyes and ears probably lurking somewhere nearby. "That, for now, is all I can tell you. Perhaps when we continue on our journey I can elucidate further...

...but now I believe it is time for us to clean up and get ready for our 'dinner' engagement..."

...and is supposedly the true heir to the title Dark Lord of the Warrior Clan. He told us that he did not inherit the title initially because a Sith Sorceror used magicks on him so that he would not wake til such a time as Graysith "needed" him to protect her. Protect her from what exactly, I do not know, for he certainly didn't protect her when she stepped out and risked her own life to face off once and for all with Dark Lord Roan. Instead he took his and Graysith's son and departed, not knowing if she would ever return to us or not.

"But she did...and so did he apparently, for he was there on K'eel Doba when we were and my memories were still blocked. I did not recognize him, but...

...now I'm certain of it. I do not know if he is still there or if he has sought to gain his title as Dark Lord of the Warriors...

...for I do recall him speaking of doing just that in the past..."

She trailed even as she said the words, remembering how she and Erik had been cornered on K'eel Doba for possibly perpetrating Roan's death...

...and remembering Graysith's explanation as to why she let them go.

"He did challenge Roan!" Shayla then exclaimed, "Back when we were on K'eel Doba, and Roan was discovered dead...

...Graysith mentioned that someone had challenged his title and then disappeared after he was murdered...

“It was I who killed Roan. Mostly I. I was in command of Panthar’s body, yet the power came from the Eye, drawn in turn from the Dark Lady. I do not know her husband.”

“Yet you would challenge him for her, wouldn’t you?” said Panthar.

Phalomir shot a darting look to Panthar.

“Hey,” Panthar continued. “Roan challenged you, he would have killed you from behind. You blasted him as part of that challenge. Shouldn’t that mean that you have a claim to the title? Hell, if it were me then I’d be pissin’ a fit!”

“Panthar,” said Phalomir. “I do not believe that is the way these affairs are handled. There is procedure, bloodlines, and…”

“And lots of name-calling and chest beating, yeah, I get it,” snorted Panthar. “I’m just saying, if it were me, then I’d be there yelling at someone to prove me wrong.”

Phalomir stared at Panthar, who reclined in a chair and stared back.

“Panthar, I am truly sorry I brought you into this.”

"Yeah, whatever. Just do what you need to do and get me my body back. I think this one has fleas."