*PSSHK-kktk*

"Carnage, Carnage, this is Alpha-trey zero, flanking speed en route to--

"WHA-!

"Say, Gamma delta, did you catch a power surge... GODS! Where is that ship going?!

"Carnage, again this is Alpha-trey zero en route to flanking position. Target has accelerated and is proceeding toward planet at... well, at a gawdawful rate. Gamma and I are in pursuit.

"This is Alpha-trey zero, out."

*PSSHK-kktk*

“Well,” he asked, “what do we do NOW? Doesn’t this ship have any weapons? I mean, that big thing will get in there if we don’t do some—“

His eyes grew wide as the tuk’ata threw its weight against a large rock it been working on and the entire pile slid to the side. In an instant the beast was knocking aside smaller stones and squeezed its way through the opening.

“Oh, mother of curses…” he said quietly.

He cast his eyes to Shayla and Erik.

"Do SOMETHING! I mean, cripes, you said you were a force user -- use it!"

Panthar let out a short, frustrated scream and spun around, sending his powerful fist into the bulkhead beside him. A small indentation appeared as the ship rocked slightly from the impact. A hissing whoosh came from below the dent and a small hidden door in the bulkhead slid open.

Panthar looked to Shayla, then bent down to peer into the little doorway. His eyes lit up as they landed on the strange yet unmistakable grip of some sort of blaster.

“Well, hey," he whislted. "Um, maybe you should check this out…”

...no, surge forward of its own accord. The energy burst was enough to pin all of the occupants in the cabin into the backs of their seats.

"Goddammit, what is going on!!!!!?????" Jasyn exclaimed even as they continued at a break-neck speed into K'eel Doban atmosphere.

Matt responded by reaching for the navboard, his hands playing about it frantically. K'eel Doba's surface was coming into view entirely too fast.

"Slow the ship down, dammit!!!" Jasyn then hollered.

"I'm trying! Matt said frantically. "Something's going on in the engine, and there's no way I can declerate enough..." He trailed, his focus on the navboard once more. The Vindicator was finally responding by slowing...

...but it wasn't going to be near enough to keep them from crashing.

"Brace for impact!" Matt shouted. "I don't think she's gonna slow down enough unless a miracle occurs!"

"Oh, kriffing Hell...!" Jasyn muttered, even as the [i]Vindicator continued its erratic...

...though somewhat slowed...

...descent to K'eel Doba.

I could sense the artificial gravity diminishing, and it's more natural state developing at a quickened pace.

This is indeed close enough.

My mind is but one thought, solid dirt.

The solid dirt of K'eel Doba that becomes exceedingly closer each passing moment.

I open my eyes to the glorious sight of a falling ship, one in which I feel no responsibilities to go down with.

Part of me still knows responsibility, that part is in the past. In my memory.

A sharp blast takes me from such context.

My awareness returning, the atmosphere is filled with bustle and smoke.

I orb to a ledge near the crash site, far enough to go unnoticed. I bide the victims of the heinous accident to emerge, and await their impending fate.

Ah, hell, but this was so kriffing familiar...

...a little too familiar.

He shifted his weight a bit, his eyes still closed, just to make sure everything was still working. Fortunately, he wasn't disappointed in that regard. But when he finally worked up the nerve to crack an eye open to survey the shattered viewport...

Oh kriffing hell, here we go again...

With a groan, Jasyn opened the other eye and reached for the navboard, one thought playing across his mind invitingly. He never thought he would be thankful Impys were following him in his life...

...but that thought was immediately cut short as he hit the comm switch and noticed that the navboard was totally dead.

A power short...or worse...

Now he simply scowled as beside him Matt Stanza began to stir. "Are we dead yet?" the other man quipped a bit drowsily.

"Not yet," Jasyn replied darkly, "But I'm gonna get the son of a space slug who caused this ship to crash. I know this baby was operating at 110 percent, I checked her out myself. Wherever that fourth lifesign reading came from...

...I have a funny feeling it had something to do with this..."

"Jasyn," Matt started, "Don't get any funny ideas about now. The Imps will be right behind us...

...I don't think it'd be wise for them to get here to you roaming about the ship with a blaster like a madman."

Jasyn scowled further. "Right," he then said. "So let's get the hell out of here and see if we can assess just what the damage is. Maybe we can ahhhh..."

He paused, grimacing at the improbability of his next words, "...fix it before we move on."

Matt shrugged as if reading Jaysn's unspoken thoughts. "Well, we can at least have a look and see just where in the galaxy we are..."

Floating alont, he reclined in his seat and looked at the holonet. Alot of things were going on in the galaxy as of now, one of which was the smuggling lanes between certian planets were cut off.

She eyed the blaster-like object in Panthar's hand, then let her greeny-blue eyes meet his. "You're right, we have to do something. That animal is lethal; I've seen...

... handiwork of its kind before, all too intimately..."

She trailed, her eyes growing vague for but a few moments. Then she snapped alert. "That thing simply won't be enough, however; these creatures are semi-sentient and extremely powerful. And I don't know enough about the weapons on this transport to even dare use them. I just don't know what..."

Suddenly, Shayla stopped mid-sentence, one of Panthar's pleading phrases slamming home.

You said you were a Force user...

... and you are still, Shayla Stargazer, came a mental addendum.

Her greeny-blue eyes refocused once more. Panthar looked ready to jump out of the ship and go shooting after the tuk'ata himself.

"Wait...!" she said then to him, a sudden calmness radiating through her words, "I think I know what to do. That blaster might not be enough by itself but..."

She trailed, pursing her lips thoughtfully for a moment and glancing at the stones which the tuk’ata had displaced at the entrance of the Temple before she continued on. “I have good telekentic ability; it’s always been a strength of mine. Between the distraction of that weapon plus me moving around some of those loose stones and using them as weapons,” she explained, nodding towards the stones at the entrance, “We should be able to buy Phalomir enough time to get out. He’s a sorceror; perhaps he too will come up with something to help himself while we do our part.”

“In the meantime...” then she turned to her husband, “I need you to man the navboard and bring the ship as close to the entrance as possible once Panthar and I get off. You’re going to have to make sure we all get safely aboard.”

Quieting at that, Shayla simply let her greeny-blue eyes rest in her husband's suddenly concerned ones. She was keenly aware that he wasn’t altogether thrilled with this plan...

...if at all. “You’re the only one who knows enough about Sith ships to fly this thing in my absence,” she said softly then, understanding that part of his qualms laid in the fact that he was not going to be by her side while she did this. “Everything is going to be fine; I can do this Erik, I know I can.”

Another moment frozen in silence. Erik’s brown eyes searched hers...

...and then, somewhat reluctantly however, he simply sat in the pilot’s chair. He nodded once in mute response.

I have faith in you, came his thought into Shayla’s mind ...but know I’m gonna be right at your back nonetheless.

Shayla wouldn’t want it any other way. With that she turned again to Panthar, who was then investigating the blaster-like weapon he had just found. “Allright,” she said then, “Unless you have some sort of addendum to the plan...

...I think we better get going...” she eyed the disheveled entrance. “And fast...”

Without hesitation he reached down and clicked on the button along the nav. board, leaning in to hear whatever the message was and respond in the most belligrent, irritive manner, yet that all vanished as he heard the familar voice of an officer in the Empire.

"What?" Za'in said puzzled, as he reached for the comm. unit, readying his finger to press for it's activation. When doing so, he continued on with a response, "I don't have an entrance code, but I am with the Vindicator. Relay my message to them about my presence and they will reassure you that I am not in search for bad deeds but a search on the planet. I'm a historian."

Za'in smiled, looking through his files. Activating the most mischevious elements of his mind he got to work into hacking into his own identification in the highest and lowest areas. Inputting a fake I.D of himself in a matter of seconds, he placed his name as he uploaded it onto all the sources for the Empire, down to the core.

*PSSHK-kktk*

Captain Landarian reared back a bit from the communications station aboard Relentless, and took something of a deep breath. A frown traced a familiar line across his forehead as he pondered the implications of that brief but ominous, forwarded message. Something had caused the Eagle Enterprise's ship to spiral in almost complete helplessness onto the surface of K'eel Doba, and nearly simultaneously with the appearance of the unidentified craft whose pilot claimed to be an historian.

Landarian's frown deepened, and he hit a switch. Immediately information about a particular historian began scrolling across his screen. Everything concise, everything correct, everything corresponding exactly to the known data the great destroyer was able to glean from that little ship. Everything pat and tidy.

Too pat and tidy. And oh so conveniently unmentioned by the Vindicator's captain or indeed, any of her occupants during their brief contact with Imperial forces.

Landarian straightened into a human ramrod, and sniffed with disdain. As far as he was concerned, one and one added up to an entirely too transparent of a two. He reached a command hand forth, now leaning down a bit as he spoke into a ship-to-ship mike.

"Unidentified ship, this is Captain Landarian of the Imperial star destroyer, Relentless. While the codes and signatures you send appear to be valid, unfortunately we are unable at this time to confirm your connection to the Eagle Enterprise ship which has made planetfall upon this world.

"Until that connection is verified, entry is denied.

"Landarian, out."

A quick flick of a finger sent the message winging on its way. Then he turned a thoughtful gaze inward, pondering whether or not Lt. General Tarnus would need to be disturbed in regard to this latest event.

If it were up to me, I'd send down those TIEs to finish the job, he mused to himself as he eyed the communications console thoughtfully. He reached out to it once more, keying in an interception code in order to make direct communication with Carnage's watchdogs.

"Alpha trey-zero, this is Relentless. Continue all cautionary measures, but follow lifesigns to whatever destination they may... reach. This includes any terminal ones; I want an eye on those people as long as they're breathing, but absolutely no active involvement on your part until I speak to Lt. General Tarnus about this.

"Landarian on Relentless, out."

With that he turned, nodded to the ensign whose station he had usurped, and departed from the bridge.

...enough damage, in fact, that he knew there was a 99.99999 percent probability she would never be flightworthy again, and most certainly not right now. Which meant that the worst was confirmed...

...they were all stranded here. So even if they did happen to find Galen, they’d never get out of here, not unless one of two things happened: the Empire picked them up for whatever reason, or two...

Jasyn bit his lip thoughtfully in consideration, then realized that they were going to have to take a few gambles either way if they were going to get out of here at all. It was just a matter of which gambles he was willing to take...

...and which ones he would have to make regardless. How he hated being backed into a corner...

“Hey,” Matt said suddenly, looking up from a gear bag which he had been digging through up until this point. “This location-thing of yours is is picking up a large object...

...possibly a building...

...in the nearby vicinity. Could be a good walk, but it might be of interest.”

“Life form readings?” Jasyn queried curiously.

“Undertermined at this moment. From the looks of things, however, probably not alot. If we were near a main city we’d already be getting readings.”

“Ok, might be worth a look,” Jasyn agreed, “But first, we need to reestablish contact. If the Imps are going to be of any help to us at all...

...or if they would like to make us think they will be anyway...

...now is a time they could take advantage of that.”

Saying nothing more in explanation of his next move, Jasyn raised his wristcomm to his lips after opening a general frequency. “Imperial blockade, this is Jasyn Lancaster. We experienced a power surge aboard our ship; we are currently awaiting the arrival of your escort...” Here he hesitated a moment, “...and the arrival of a second ship piloted by a Za’in Almar, who was going to assist us in our search. My apologies for not notifying you of his arrival earlier; it slipped my mind in my haste to make planetfall. Any assistance you could give us would be greatly appreciated...

...Lancaster out.”

He staggered back a step, not fully aware of doing it, then reflexively caught his balance just as the sounds of crashing stones and massive claws upon rock came blasting from behind. He whirled around clumsily, still half swooning from the shock of new power, just as the massive tuk’ata bore down upon him. Phalomir fell backwards, the enormous jaws and tendrils filling the space in front of him. He tried to call forth a blast of Sith magick, but it was too late. He braced himself for the impact and pain, and as he instinctively closed his eyes to meet his death his mind was suddenly filled with thoughts of the Lady Jharmeen, and was immediately saddened that he would never walk with her again…

But the pain did not come.

Phalomir felt a hot breath upon his face. A wet tendril played softly upon his cheek. He opened his eyes and saw the huge head of the beast hovering inches from his face, yet no attack came. The tuk’ata cocked its head and inhaled a long, slow sniff. It whined softly and backed off a step, giving Phalomir room to stand. Phalomir gazed curiously at the beast, as it in turn seemed to stare back at him. He reached out a hand towards the tuk’ata, expecting to pull it back suddenly, but to his amazement the tuk’ata raised several face tendrils and stroked Phalomir’s palm.

Phalomir smiled.

He now noticed the tuk’ata’s face was bathed in a soft red light, then became aware of the red glow coming from his own face. He held his hands in front of him, the light illuminating them brightly. He touched his cheeks and discovered they were very warm to the touch, and traced along his face until he discovered another warm spot on his forehead.

“There are other trials,” said Phalomir. “Other challenges. I know not where this road shall lead, but I trust the path.”

The tuk’ata growled a deep, low growl. Phalomir turned and proceeded to the lone door he saw earlier at the other end of the grand hall. A soft whine from behind gave Phalomir a strong sense, as if a thought somehow was carried in that sound. I be waiting shall, may truth find you.

Phalomir stiffened and paused, then continued. He reached the door and pushed it open. On the other side was a long, narrow hallway, well lit by burning torches. He walked into the hall and turned to softly close the door behind him. He turned back to the hallway, and was taken by surprise by the change in scenery. He was still in a long hallway, but now it was lit by lamps and glowing spheres. Ornate carvings lined the walls and runes were laid into the ceiling and floor. He felt he had seen this place before, very recently, and as recognition dawned upon him a soft voice echoed in the back of his mind.

Tell her… tell her now… it may be your last chance…

Thus it was that as she rounded a certain corner connecting two labyrinthine corridors she really wasn't paying much attention. It took her a full four or five steps until her sense of unease escalated dramatically, and she came to a halt. She lifted her face, tossing errant tendrils of her hair back, then froze.

He stood before her in equal silence; whether the silence of expectant command or utter surprise, she could not tell. She blinked.

"How--" she began hesitantly, taken aback with herself for that hesitancy. Firming, she closed her mouth a moment, thought briefly, then continued.

"What are you doing here?" she asked at length. "I thought you had gone--"

Again she stumbled to a halt, suddenly aware of the intrusion of strangeness into her peripheral vision. She cut her eyes quickly off to one side, took in the image of quietly glowing spheres, cut them back to Phalomir's still silent form.

Her eyes widened against the dimness, a dimness lit only by those glowing orbs. Without being aware she was making the gesture, she lifted a slim hand to her mouth, as if utterly stunned.

"Where am I?" she whispered at length, taking a cautious step backward. "How did I come to be here? I did not use--"

Again she came to a stop, her eyes shining huge and violet, the Glyph on her forehead now beginning to send it's ultraviolet radiance out to combat the soft red glow coming from Phalomir's face. She took another step backward and halted there, while behind her came that most singular of sounds: the rising ululation of an anxious tuk'ata... a low yet rising caterwaul which was suddenly echoed from the shadows behind the Sith who yet stood so quietly before her.

“My lady, I –“ he began. “I do not know… I was in the temple, and now—“

Tell her, she must know, for the sake of unity…

The soft voice was followed by a sudden, sharp roar inside of his head. The beast within his memories lifted a paw and allowed a small trickle of light to show, filling Phalomir’s mind with images.

He confronts Aelvedaar in the Temple of the Sorcerers. He tried to reason, but the Dark Lord will not hear of it. Using the All, Aelvedaar attempts to send Phalomir into the elseness, but a blast of magick and energy channeled through the Finger of R’lous leaves Aelvedaar in a crumpled heap. At first Phalomir is distressed, but the feeling is soon replaced by feelings of satisfaction… of victory… and he relishes it.

He stands high on a mountainside, two comrades at his side, and faces a group of Sith warriors led by a hooded figure. Using the Finger of R’lous, he channels magick and strikes down all of his attackers.

He stands on a high balcony overlooking thousands of Sith, all cheering and shouting his name. Phalomir holds the Finger high above his head, daring all who would oppose him, and turns his face to the heavens. The Dark Lady stands by his side, cold and empty, holding a small bundle wrapped in ornate blankets. She looks to him, her eyes void of emotion. As he ignores her she calmly steps forward and falls from the balcony with the bundle still in her arms.

He sits on a throne, alone, in a chamber decorated with the bones and skulls of many races.

The beast within roared again and the images ceased. He staggered back slightly, reeling from the memories of things to come. He looked down at the Finger of R’lous in his hands, the instrument of his success… of his extreme power.

“No…” he said softly.

He looked to Dark Lady, still staring in confusion.

“I have brought this to you, my lady. It is the Finger of R’lous, a powerful channeling device. It will protect you… and it must never again fall into my hands.”

But she remained still, frozen, her feet as rooted to the cold stones beneath them as were her eyes rooted to Phalomir's shining emerald ones. The came closer to her, closer yet, once again filling her universe with their verdant aura, mesmerizing. Something inside her whimpered and leaned forward, even as the Beast whirled in consternation, now on the defense, verging on an attack of sorts itself. Its rumbling growl filled the blank void within her, muscling aside those waves of greenness which had insinuated within her being, pushing savagely against it until she stood once again in coolly aloof assurety, even in the midst of utter confusion.

Her eyes flicked from Phalomir's to the device he held out to her. It was strangely commanding to the eye, even as small as it was: a red-skinned handle hilted on one end by a heavy round stone, wrapped in gay strips of leather amidst which were set jewels of blue and violet; at the other end the device sported a four-sided pointed blade, flanked on all four sides by jewels of deep red. It lay in Phalomir's hand in silent offering, although something about its simple presence negated that image entirely and brought forth a vivid flash of something...

Evil.

Another shudder coursed through her, the Beast let out a challenging yowl; she ignored both, and reached a remarkably steady hand out to the device. Her slim fingers wrapped themselves around the red-skinned handle, and by that one gesture a command of sorts seemed to come to her. No imagery came to her eye or her mind, for they were too full of wonder and of Phalomir's tall form, but the sensation was clearly there. It was as if something more than mere power had been slyly introduced to her, something far greater than the hard strength leadership of either Triad or Unity entailed, something which coiled and writhed as it tried to worm into her, snickering as it went.

Her eyes widened at the intrusion, boring more deeply into Phalomir's own. Therein she read things she didn't know if she wished to see--

Not saying a word then, she merely tightened her grip on the Finger, but didn't pull back or remove it from Phalomir's grasp. Instead she stood there a moment, holding it with him, staring coolly up into his eyes and waiting for what she didn't know.

But that elusive something for which she unconsciously waited was something the Beast must have known, and very well indeed. It crouched back on its haunches, screaming in defiance, raking her with its claws, hunkering over her heart and soul as it snarled forth its dark promise of never, ever letting go.

I sighed inwardly yet again as I ran through this latest information, and finally let my hand drop from my mouth. My gauntlet hit the table with a sharp noise, one soon replaced by the steady rapping of one finger as I pondered our next move.

Sure as there's Treasure on Roon, it never rains but it pours now, doesn't it? I thought to myself, fighting off an inward wince the former exclamation brought forth in me as it now brought forth an image of my gamin-faced erstwhile wife. I settled into my chair then, laced my fingers together to stop the rapping, and cocked my head to one side. I blinked; Landarian nodded imperceptibly, then took an easy seat in front of me.

We exhaled in synchronous and entirely false relief.

"Complely destroyed?" I asked, pinning my lips together in annoyance. The captain merely nodded to the Reborn who approached on sandcat feet to bring us both some cups of caf. He took one from the proffered tray, took a sip, took my attention again with the look which then crossed his face.

My lips tightened.

"And this new one, this... Za'in Somebody, Almar you say? He's assisting them, and he's an...historian???"

Now Landarian's lips mimicked my own; I know the shadows flickering in his eyes were likewise reflections of the ones flitting about my very being. I sat back in my chair, letting the cup I had taken settle to the table with a slight clink.

"I do not believe this; they are clearly up to something. How in Hell's Seven Circles would a-- historian connect with them to come to a planet which as far as the known universe goes doesn't exist except in rumor and myth? And more importantly, why?

"No, my dear Captain, there is more afoot here than meets the eye, I'm afraid. However, we have the means to keep it under watch, if not completely contained if necessary."

I hit a toggle; information about Almar's ship began scrolling across my screen, information brought to us easily enough by our deep-core scanning equipment. He was fairly loaded for rancor, but it wasn't anything we couldn't deal with if necessary. Another flick of my finger, and the screen went dark, revealing only a miniaturized galaxy which rotated slowly there upon my desk.

I lifted my eyes to Landarian.

"Give Mr. Lancaster's comm frequency to the TIEs. Have them make audio contact only with his party. Tell them we will stand by should any... assistance be direly needed, and that is all he needs to know at this time. They are to alter holding pattern Rancor to shadow-dianoga, and remain there as long as there are humans on that world, maintaining that comm-link. Oh yes, since Lancaster's ship didn't seem to associate too nicely with this planet, offer sensor assistance only.

"And as for Almar's ship...."

I trailed a moment, and once more found myself sitting with my hand playing about my mouth as I weighed one side against another. At length I let out a sigh, and focused my gaze on the captain once again.

"Allow him to make planetfall on K'eel Doba, and be prepared to assist should anything try to convert that descent into one less... controlled. He may not leave the surface until given permission, however; I want all tractor beams tripled in output, and the net brought to within 600 kilometers of the planetary surface."

"Eagle Enterprise ship, this is Alpha-trey zero, holding shadow pattern per orders from the fleet. We confirm your life signs and have passed such to mother ship; we also confirm the destruction of your ship.

"Too bad, EE; perhaps your company needs a more qualified piloting instructor."

The pilot smirked behind his helmet at the joke he had made, then grew serious.

"Our sensors indicate an unknown lifesign approximately one-half kilometer from your present position, bearing zero-fiver two N by one fifteen mark thirty W. It appears to be approximately 500 feet in elevation above you, and at this time immobile.

"We offer sensor assistance and shadow during your planetfall; have a nice stay.

"This is Alpha-trey zero, out."

Nodding to himself the pilot barked another order to the other TIEs, and all four ships started to perform a beautifully, if in the eyes of some... lethally... executed ballet across the darkening K'eel Doban skies.

“I like this plan!” he shouted, gripping the handle of the strange weapon tightly. “OK, so we go hit this thing with all we got and he flies in to get us all out, once we get Phal. Hit it!”

Panthar did not wait for a reply, but darted for the hatch control. It opened, and he jumped out, not waiting for the gangway to descend. He hit the ground running and made for the temple entrance at an incredible speed.

Shayla descended quickly and prepared to use her force abilities.

Panthar made it the temple steps and pulled the blaster out in front of him. As he bound up the stones he came to realize he had no clue about how top fire this weapon. He slowed his ascent and searched for a trigger of some kind, but did not find it. He stopped at the top of the steps and took a closer look at the weapon, noticing it was covered in tiny runes. The handle was coated in a soft rubbery material, and the long metal shaft came to a flat point.

“Oh heck,” said Panthar. “I’ve come to kill a monster with a screwdriver…”

A shout from behind made Panthar spin. Shayla was standing near the ship, frozen. On each side of the clearing a large tuk’ata stood, the furthest only 20 yards from the temple steps. Both were keenly aware of the Sith standing at the top of the temple. Panthar felt his head grow heavy, and a strange sinking sensation crept over him. From behind he heard a low, steady growl. He slowly turned back to face the temple, catching the glint of sunlight from a pair of eyes somewhere in the darkness inside.

“Um… nice kitty?” he said quietly.

The tuk’ata emerged from the temple and stood, still and majestic, and eyed Panthar. Panthar closed his eyes and froze in place. The tuk’ata cocked its head, stepped closer, and sniffed. It raised its tendrils and explored Panthar’s face, which remained frozen. The tuk’ata took a step backwards and sat on its haunches. Panthar opened one eye. The tuk’ata made no move. He opened the other eye. Still the tuk’ata did not move.

He watched his fingers tighten on the grip of the device, while his thumb slowly moved down to gently caress the fingers of the Dark Lady. He desperately wished to be done with this device, for behind all of its power and promise lay the cold memories of events yet to come, and an overpowering sense of something sinister emanated from it.

“I… can not… possess this… device,” he struggled to say.

Jharmeen continued to keep her grip on the Finger of R’lous, not pulling away.

Why, Phalomir? the soft voice returned. By the widening of Jharmeen’s eyes, Phalomir wondered if the voice was no longer only in his head. Why do you wish to be free from the promise of leadership of the Sith?

“I do not wish to be free from it,” he whispered. “But I cannot accept the visions of days to come. If ruling the Sith means losing myself, and the lives of those who I would love, then I pass it to another… someone stronger.”

The strange lights along the walls flickered.

This challenge is complete. The voice wafted in the shadowed hall. The Burden and Lordship shall rest upon two, sharing and complimenting. One shall be the heart and spirit, the other shall channel.

The red skin around the grip of the Finger glowed softly. A white mist arose from the upwardly pointed tip and dissipated into the air, and the sinister sensation abated. The glow continued, and the tattoo on Phalomir’s forehead glowed to match. Phalomir watched the soft light illuminate the Dark Lady’s face, then gaped in wonder as the skin around her wrist glowed as well. All red light ceased, leaving an imprint on her wrist identical to the tattoo on Phalomir’s forehead.

Yes, that was skin. And it was red.

--met the tips of her curling fingers and followed along a tangent to where a tattoo lay freshly imprinted upon the skin of her flesh. It was similar in design to the golden one which proclaimed her as Dark Lady, one which another tangential glance told her yet lay reassuringly upon her other wrist. The only difference between the two was that while the first one she bore glowed in shimmering gold, the new one lay dark and silent. A brief and errant thought flicked from nowhere--

What will trigger this?

--only to be quickly pushed away, repressed, handily cupboarded until a time when she could appraise it more thoroughly, more leisurely.

And while alone.

Her eyes returned to Phalomir's even as she pulled back a slight step, carrying the Finger along with her. Questions roiled through her, churning.

What was this device, exactly? How had it come into being? Who was the author of that mysterious, commanding voice, the one which proclaimed the joint leadership in the same tone, one brooking no denial, that she used when acting in the authority her title permitted?

And from somewhere even more deeply repressed, from a dim and dark and deep little place at the very core of her being, a tiny voice raised and screamed loudly enough that she could just catch the very fringes of it:

Why was this remarkable and singular offer extended to her, a human woman, and not to one with at least blood of the Sith flowing in his or her veins?

She pushed that back along with the second step that she took. Stopped in place and stared at the Finger now, noticing for the first time a strap affixed to one end of it, one bearing a hook which fit nicely upon one of the various carrying loops upon the belt of her thrimm. Forcing her breathing to remain steady, she hung it there. It lay against her thigh as if it had been a part of her forever, warm yet somehow carrying with it the sensation of extreme and deathly cold.

Sudden and intimately keen awareness of that device flooded into her, of a possibility of what its purpose might indeed be.

It was The Channeler. Of the All, more than likely. The ultimate means by which that strength could be used... by anybody. No balancing, no learning, no threat by the clouding powers of the Eyes of R'lous.

It was the All, all wrapped up tidily in one unique device. Giving the wielder something which approached absolute power.

Yet what then would control the wielder?

Another thought flashed into her mind, one borne of the stories her father used to tell her when she was a child, stories entwining his speculations about this ancient race with those history had already proven to be true, stories about those dark ones who took the name Sith upon themselves, to the dishonor of that race.

The dark jedi. Who called themselves Sith. Who commanded, not the All, but some of the magicks of the Sith, incorporating that into the Force they already used. Who were thus made into the most powerful of entities existing at that time in the galaxy... and who squabbled and fought over that power until by their own agreement -- perhaps -- it had come to be that only two should exist.

A Master and an Apprentice.

It was only then that she saw something flickering in the depths of Phalomir's eyes, something dark and deep and mysterious and somehow... hopeful. Between the pathway of their locked eyes there then arose other visions, visions only she could see, visions of her daughter ShaRhylla, of her niece JhinDarra, of a certain Dark Lord of the Sith and his own adopted son.

She shivered, and closed her eyes. When she opened them again, they were like twin amethyst crystals, cold, glittering, and adamantine hard. She smiled.

"How strong are you, Phalomir?" she whispered then, letting the smile which came nowhere close to touching her eyes broaden upon her face. The Glyph ravened into new brilliance, while somewhere in the distance there came a beastly yowl.

Though I hope the day doesn't need to be saved... He thought, scratching his head while the other one steadied the ship through the atmosphere and layers that allowed man to live in such a place.

When finally appearing in the sky high above, the beautifully engineered ship's windows revealed the awkward surface of the planet. It wasn't a pretty sight at all, nothing that would be considered a lounge but nonetheless his life had led him here and his descion was already made to help Lancaster.

Gliding above the surface, his engines boosted, keeping him suspended in the air while he took the time to open in his comm link. Placing his finger on the comm unit activation, he placed in the frequency.

...but suddenly, the tuk'ata simply sat back on its haunches, something about the creature's air implying that it was giving Panthar "permission" to enter the Temple. Shayla almost couldn't believe it, but as she had said herself, the animals were semi-sentient. After being around the Sith for such a great amount of time, it was entirely probable that there was some sort of kinship between Sith and tuk'ata, which would explain why the tuk'ata was such an esteemed animal among the race.

The long and the short of all of these possibilities, however, was that it appeared the tuk'ata was going to leave Panthar alone. Her, on the other hand....

Shayla's eyes snapped fully alert, and she was keenly aware that the two tuk'ata that had been flanking her were still there. Even so, however, they weren't moving a muscle.

What were they doing? Waiting for their prey to jump first? "Playing with their food" so to speak? Or was something else going on?

Suddenly Shayla was less than certain about using stones for weapons. An idea was coming to her mind, however. So, reaching out with the Force, she channeled thoughts towards the semi-sentient animals, one at a time, her demeanor and mind utterly calm as she did so.

I am with the other one.

Even as she kept that thought in her mind, she spoke quietly towards Panthar. "I think they are granting you access...

Phalomir thought of the visions he had experienced, visions which he believed were actual memories that he had somehow already lived through. Phalomir seemed to be a living paradox, and his head was filled with repressed images tightly locked away. Yet he also knew in his heart what those images would tell if he were to unlock them.

“Stronger than you know,” he said at last. “You have known strong lords, of that I have no doubt. But believe me, my lady, you have known none stronger than I.”

He took a step forward. He held his hand to his face and touched each of the tattoos in order.

“Warrior, Sorcerer, Armorer. I have the power, I have the desire… I have the strength to carry with me the burden of centuries. The true power of the Sith lies not in magick, not in the All force. It is a combination of those elements and others, and I shall find them all.”

He looked to the Finger.

“However, you are the channel through which the true power of the Sith shall flow. But you need the spirit behind that power, my lady. You need the strength to carry you through the trials to come. You need me.”

He paused, a thoughtful look coming to his face.

Her lip curled slightly.

"I am as strong as I only need to be," she whispered at length.

Daughter indeed....

Then, abruptly, she seemed to pull back, whirled on the spot, and began to leave, heading back to where she had come from, knowing this path would take her back to the Temple.

“My lady,” he said. “Wait.” She hesitated only a slight moment and continued on.

“There are things I have not spoken,” he continued, and followed her down the hallway.

“My memories, some of them were released by the beast within me, and though I cannot explain why, I do firmly believe they are genuine. I have come to you before, in another time, and have possessed the Finger. You and I have stood together, ruling the Sith, but I allowed the device to use me. I alone wielded the power, and was so corrupted by it that I let the one thing that could make my life complete slip from my fingers.”

He caught up with her, but stayed two steps behind, matching her speed.

“I will not allow that to happen again. You shall bear the device, but you shall not wield it alone. I sense something within you, the Finger already feeds upon your desire for power, your need to rise above those who have used you and so easily discarded you. I have traveled across ages to find you, to begin a new line of time, and I will not allow my failures to befall you.”

He stopped.

Thoughts whirled about in her head.

She had the Claw... she had the Finger now. Everything she needed, all the devices of pertinence. She now bore the marks of two clans; did not her own daughter bear warrior ones as well? And as for JhinDarra, well... her niece could establish clan leadership through marriage just as easily as she, Jharmeen, had done. A new Triad in the making, consisting of a different Unity, one of blood kinship.

One with the barest hint of actual Sith blood being involved; could it be that this disconnection was what that race needed to lead them? A distancing of bloodlines, bloodlines which produced heirs and claimants to then lead to squabbles and discordance. Was that what had reduced the Sith from their nobility; would removal from this be the key to their prosperity?

As well as to hers...?

She blinked, her eyes dark. Yet she couldn't entirely dismiss the tone in which Phalomir was making his case. It was almost beseeching, imploring, as if from somewhere deep within himself he was begging....

A distant howl came into her ears; M'wonBo'o, uneasy that his mental link with his Mistress was so intruded upon. Raising her face then, she turned quietly around, and stared up into Phalomir's face. Overlaid upon it were the gentle features of another Lord, another one emerald of eye; that ghostly image seemed to smile, and call forth that within her which was her true nature.

For the briefest of moments she allowed herself to soften.

"You come from a time yet to be, and speak of events yet to come as though they have already occurred. How am I to know whether what you say now is what would eventually prevent those dire occurrance from happening... or if those words are the ones which open the door to their eventual arrival?

"How can I trust you, Phalomir? Your very existence here is a paradox."

She paused, wondering about this even as she waited to hear his reply. And as for the implications in the other words he had spoken....

She shied away from that like a nervous colt.

Jasyn frowned, looking over to Matt. "Have I mentioned that I really don't like this?"

Matt shrugged, then replied. "Well, it did get us onto the planet. We'll deal with what happens when it happens. Now about that lifeform reading--"

Matt's words were cut-off by Za'in's sudden...

...if somewhat disturbingly well-timed comm.

Jasyn lifted the wristcomm to his lips. "Not sure exactly where we are, since we've crashed. We believe there's a large building somewhere in the vincity of our crash site...

...and other than that..."

Jasyn paused, glancing up to the showy display the Imps were putting on. He scowled.

Better pilot instructor...

"...there is an escort of Impy TIEs over our current position. If you got through the blockade the legal way, they'll be expecting you. Hope to see you on ground soon, we're gonna start moving in the meantime, however."

Turning to Matt and Dash then, Jasyn nodded in the general direction the Imps were finding a lifesign. "Shall we have a look?" he then queried.

"Can't hurt..." Matt started. "I hope..."

Jasyn frowned in response before opening a comm frequency to the Imps. "Allright, we're heading over to check out that lifesign, and sensor readings and shadow are greatly appreciated. Considering how we just crashed, there's no telling what the kriffing hell is out there."

Saying nothing more than that, Jasyn began towards the unknown lifesign with his commrades right behind him, unconsciously pulling at his blaster as he did so.

That bad feeling of his wasn't getting any better...

The inability to control the situation and understand everythign had become quiet awkward for him. He had normally understood things when he had jumped into it, but this time he had headed head-first onto the world from the blockade and without a clue of what exactly was going on.

But, that is the path I always travel, wait and give in to... it.

This had become complacent so long ago, yet there is hope this time is different. Thanks in large part to these ancient beings known as sith.

With a supercilious gaze, I appear before the converging convoy lead by the apprehensive pilot. For which I can only presume, he clutched to his mortal weapon as a baby does his rattle.

Yet another man appears from nothingness, this time to the rescue.

With zealous Jasyn Lancaster in the lead by more than a meter, he was the only man threatened by the rock slide.

Jasyn is plucked from the peril of danger, this time. Plucked by a being from above, for soon Jasyn himself would be aware.

Orbing, we reappear in a nearby city, Jasyn and myself. In a back street so not to be noticed. If there was any chance of that was to be determined later.

Somehow, with all the evil I have inside me, it comes back to me as the cry of a heartbroken man.

My eyes turn black coal, to the firey depths of Hell. Another energy ball comes to my command.

"Anyone else feeling heroic?" Deep as a voice, and ground shaking, their imaginations could comprehend.

Rolling my eyes, I shake the evil monkey off my back. I give an uncomfortable laugh, as if hoping they might be of use to me.

"We seem to have gotten off on the wrong foot, my name is Kale... Kale Mallord." I hand them a business man's smile, reluctantly extinguishing my trembling hand of energy and fury.

“Well,” he said quietly, “I guess if it’s letting us in…”

He took a tentative step towards the temple entrance. The tuk’ata moved its massive head slightly and a large face tendril nonchalantly whipped from under its chin, knocking into Panthar and sending him back a step. Panthar frowned and took another step forward. Again the tendril slapped into Panthar, knocking him back. Panthar huffed and turned to call out to Shayla.

...then there was that crazy-looking man with something or other blue blasting forth from his hand...

...a landslide of sorts...

...and then...?

Jasyn blinked, shaking his head a bit to clear the strange blue fog clouding his eyesight. As the fog dissapated, Jasyn's brown eyes fell upon a dark-blonde headed man dressed in...

...golden robes? If he hadn't known better, Jasyn would have thought that perhaps this was the vision of one of his drinking binges. He blinked again, just to see if the image in front of him changed...

...but it didn't. And now he was becoming increasingly aware of the fact that neither Matt or Dash...

...or that looney-looking guy for that matter...

...were anywhere around. Instead, he was in an apparently abandoned alley, with him. Jasyn's eyes widened suspiciously, and he reached for his blaster, taking a step back.

"Where the hell are we, where the hell are my buddies...

... and who the kriffing hell are you...?"

Shayla pursed her lips for a moment, considering Panthar's question. Tuk'ata could communicate telepathically, though it was difficult for them to do so with a human, particularly one that they were not bonded with.

"Perhaps I can," she said quietly and thoughtfully in late reply to Panthar's question. He cocked his head in her direction, quirking a Sithly brow. "It's almost as if the tuk'ata is trying to warn you off...

...or perhaps protect you..."

Shayla trailed at that, frowning. "They can communicate telepathically, but they are difficult to understand. I do have some experience with their kind, however. So perhaps..."

Falling completely silent then, Shayla stepped forward a bit. The tuk'ata which had been flanking her all remained where they were for the moment, as if waiting to see just what she might do. But, as she then ascended the steps to the Temple to join Panthar, they moved in slightly. Remaining calm, she took careful steps towards the tuk'ata beside Panthar.

As she approached the tuk'ata, as it had with Panthar, reached out its face tendrils to investigate Shayla's face. Shayla closed her eyes...

...and in the same moment reached out into the mind of the great creature, who then once more sat back on its haunches and regarded she and Panthar both. With all her effort, Shayla stayed with the mind of the apparant "leader" of the pack.
We are with the one inside this Temple, and we need to get inside to find him, she thought.

A few moments of quiet passed, and then the reply at last came.

Only the One enter may til he finds self within...

Shayla's eyes snapped open, but she didn't release the link she had with the tuk'ata just yet.

"I don't think they intend us any harm," Shayla then stated almost unnecessarily, "From what I understand, however, Phalomir has been expected...

...and that we will not be granted entrance until he completes whatever it is he must here."

Shayla quieted once more at that, then "spoke" once more to the tuk'ata. We must wait to enter until the One completes his task? she queried.

More silence. Then, Enter you shall...

...sacrifice there must be...

And it was in that moment that a familiar vision flashed across her mind's eye, one of a dagger held in the air by a strong red-skinned hand. The hand, the dagger still in its grasp, began to fall seemingly towards her as the scent of sweet-smelling flowers nearly overpoweresd her. Shayla took a step back, suddenly feeling very faint...

...and very much afraid...

"...as to your other questions, my name is Wyatt Mathews, and I am your guardian. An angel, to be more exact. We're not far from your party, I'm sorry I couldn't do more... more will be explained later, you'll have to trust me on that. You must pay close attention to what I'm about to reveal, understand?" He stopped at that, apprehensively waiting as if in the midst of battle.

...if not sooner...

...believe that you are the bloody Ghost of Khaandon."

He paused at that, his hand still on his blaster. "If you've got something to say to me, you'd better make it quick, cause there is no way I'm leaving my friends down there with that looney, whether they give him an advantage or not...

...and for whatever the hell reason that they do. Unless, of course, a guardian angel is going to drop out of the sky for each of them too..."

Jasyn trailed, the sarcasm in his last statement easily discernable as he reached down and punched an SOS signal on his wristcomm, one which he knew very well would be picked up by the Impys flying overhead...

...and that alone was enough to disturb him, to say the very least. Ever the proper businessman, however, Matt decided to take it one step at a time. He could only pray that whatever had happened to Jasyn...

...and hadn't there been another figure in that flash of blue light which appeared before Jasyn disappeared...?

..that he was alive and well.

"Off on the wrong foot indeed," he said then coolly, his eyes still only for Kale Mallord. He wasn't particularly thrilled with the idea of possibly making this guy mad again...

...nor was he of being around this guy any longer than possible. Seemed one or both might happen whatever he said, however.

"Unfortunately, it doesn't work that way." he says, shrugging off the sarcasm laden comment moments before.

"C'mon, lets go, we don't have much time."

Wyatt extends his arm, takes Jasyn by the shoulder.

On a high ridge, a few dozen meters from the crash victims of the EE vessel, they rematerialize.

"Did you have a plan?"

Broad grin, I continue.

"...about your friend, seems he has an admirer. Believe me, I hate when they do that." I laugh. It's been so long, insincere and abbreviated.

My senses sober,"Now, Matt, what information regarding this world are you willing to surrender to me?"

No more smiles.

"Depends on what exactly you want to know about it," he said in an as-a-matter-of-fact tone. Then he fell silent, his green eyes intense as he waited.

I approach him with purpose, coolly.

"Were those your last words, Matt? Like it or not, you will help me."

I stop before him, alloting him a 2 foot cushion, and no more.

Twin faces duck down....

He turned to his sister with a snort.

"You and your stars!" he whispered as quietly as the footfall of a butterfly, yet in a tone which managed to sound both derisive and disgusted at the same time. "I told you it wasn't a meteorite!"

The young Sith's sister, a charming lass no more than the equivalent of perhaps eleven human years in age, stuck out her tongue at her brother. She glared at him, and tightened her grip on the bow she carried.

"You're so smart!" she mouthed back silently. "What are you going to do now?"

The young male straightened, trying to make himself look imposing. His fingers curled around the haft of the short spear he carried.

"We can take them, don't you think?" he queried with his eyes and by the mere fact that his fingers did curl about his spear. His royal blue eyes gleamed in the dimming light.

His sister shook her head, her long white hair tangling about her horns. She made a gesture with one hand, and slowly began to creep back down the side of the slope. Her movement didn't so much as allow for one stone to slip, so steathily did she descend.

The unspoken need for silence fled from the youngsters the moment they reached flat ground. With a swiftness belying their age, they took of at a dead run, haring off pellmell to the nearby city in which they lived, and from which they had gone forth to find "an adventure."

Little had they dreamed that such would come to them, but indeed it had, with a rapidity which had them still blinking as they ran...

...a rapidity matched only by the swiftness in which their parents, and soon thereafter an entire squad of heavily armed Sith warriors, responded to the hue and cry they raised about the strangers the moment they got home.

It wasn't long before those warriors returned to the crater and leaped upon it as though wishing to feed. Spears pointed threateningly, scowls evident on every visage, they ringed the strangers who dared to set foot upon their world.

A spokesman raised his voice.

"Why are you here?"

He fell silent, and the Sith moved in a step closer. Behind them came, at last, the slight patter of stones as the young brother and sister hurried up the slope, eager to see what would befall those who had fallen from the skies.

"Are they sith?" I articulate for his ears only, mute as a Shakespearean soliloquy.

"Hold there, you!" he said in an authoritative tone, putting emphasis on his words by the very special manner in which he moved his spear. His eyes hooded, and he stared at the men.

The man only stared back.

The Sith warrior scowled more blackly.

"I asked you a question," he finally growled, and shook his spear again to underscore the unspoken meaning inherent to his words.

"You are the ancient being known as sith, are you not. I've come to offer my... talents. In exchange for your help, of course."

"You are scarcely in any position to be speaking thus," he finally said, his eyes dead, his voice deadlier. "We seek no assistance from any other than the Sith-- with one exception! Our talents are to remain for us alone; we need not the likes of you.

"But then, this is not my decision to make here. You would do well to explain further just how it is you came to be here."

He paused then, cocking his head a bit to one side while he took in the dully colored eyes of the strangers, their even duller skin, the way that discomfort seemed to hover over them like a shroud.

Hopefully, the monarchy isn't as egotistic as this one. Or myself, for that matter.

He settled for another glare. Indeed it was lucky for the strangers that they had come to K'eel Doba and not its sister planet; the glare of a warrior at its best can incapacitate its receiver, sending him to his knees in fear. But the glare of a sorcerer can kill.

He ground his jaws together then, curling his lips to show off his rather intimidating fangs.

"I can take you to her," he snapped, suddenly wary of the direction in which events had proceeded.

"But I won't. Not until I have more to tell her of your sudden arrival here; otherwise she would expect we handle matters here, between ourselves. Her time is too important for trivialities."

Another gleam came into his eyes then, darkening them even as the very air about them seemed to lose its light. Their sun, never one for sending much out in the way of brightness, was slowly but inexorably approaching the horizon; the warrior leader wanted this matter over and done with as quickly as possible. It was fast approaching his time to dine, not to mention the fact that it was way past his children's bedtime.

"...while there is yet a proposal standing." Bellowed my demonic admonish.

He let a sly grimace cross his face.

"As I said, She has more important things to do with her time than to be interrupted by the likes of you."

Now all humor fled from his face, which smoothed into utter and deadly seriousness. The other warriors sensed this sudden change and in one smoothly executed maneuver closed ranks, coming in together shoulder to shoulder, one foot forward, the other back and loose, spears pointing in a ring of death into the face of the strangers, two of whom had yet to even speak.

They held their stance in rigid silence, while behind them came a soft inhalation of breath...

Orbing myself from this convergence stands alone, but leverage was my final agenda.

I return behind the warrior pack, amongst what can only be described as children of the sith.

Two of them, in fact.

"Am I of importance, now?" The young man, the sith, shadowed by my weapon of choice: Matt Stanza's blaster.

She raised her bow, a dull-tipped target arrow finding haven against the rough gut string, now pulled taut. She snarled a challenge, then let fly the arrow.

Brother was right! We can take them, she thought even as her small hand flew to the quiver on her back, retrieving and stringing yet another arrow. It's feathery tip found a seat against her cheekbone as she waited, watching the first arrow fly and strike her mark smack in his thigh.

She smiled, pearly fangs peeping forth from pink lips.

I have been accustomed to pain, in any and every degree. But this was different, this was pain by surprise.

The blaster falls silent, on the ground.

Bellow.

This arrow could not stay for long, and it didn't. Thrusting it to the afore mentioned ground beneath my feet, I come up ready for battle. Ready for blood to be spilled.

An energy ball forms in my trembling hand.

She's a female. A sith, but a female sith.

That would turn to be an afterthought, as my destructive instrument made clean contact with the sith female.

I almost hoped it wasn't leathal, that somehow this was differing from the conventional foe.

Almost.

The roar split the dusk like a knife blade, seeking to defend and protect.

Too late.

The disbelieving father watched as his brave little child was engulfed in St. Elmo's blue, writhing and shivering before disappearing before his very eyes. Stunned, he paused the merest moment, his warriors ringed with him, before he threw back his own head and released yet another roar.

This one was of challenge.

Spearpoint raised and deadly, he rushed the strangers, followed by the others. In passing his strong hand left the haft of his weapon only long enough to push his remaining child from his path.

"Run, boy!" he whispered fiercely; then he and his men were upon the three, and all hell seemed to break loose.

This time, I manage to place myself with the distance the young sith man had just traveled moments before.

"I can hunt this one down, as well." I shout back to the pack of blood thirsty sith.

He came to a halt... the spearpoint imbedded firmly in the chest of the dark entity.

His royal blue eyes widened in utter surprise at his unexpected victory... if victory of any sort it could ever be called. He had seen the stranger disappear and reappear as if by magick; was this thing something called forth from the sorcerer's clan? His father had mentioned something once to his mother, something about the clans all separating....

He didn't bother thinking further, but let his look of shock change into one of determination. Gnashing his fangs, he leaned his entire, wiry weight into his weapon and shoved against it with all his strength until resistance gave way as the bloodied point burst forth from the man's back.

His frozen eyes stared into hell....

Couldn't allow it to happen.

Though warrior he was, and for the most part disdained the use of magick in any way, shape or form, relying instead upon his own prowess and physical abilities, being Sith he did have a certain magick inherent in him. With a mighty growl he reached out into those hidden talents, and brought forth an orb of blue lightning of his own. This he released directly into the stranger's face, relishing how the bolts sharded down to enter the wound created by his son's spear, which in turn had been knocked loose by the energies and lay, charred and smoking on the ground.

His son lay about five feet away, propped on his elbows, shocked.

"RUN, BOY!" his father yowled, preparing another orb of energy even as the warriors turned in mass to descend upon the one who had been wounded.

The boy nodded, scrabbling backward, and soon gained his feet. He fled into the darkening shadows, fleet and small and unseen, twisting and turning, jigging and backtracking until he reached the city and fell at the feet of the first citizen he met.

There, sobbing, he let out the terrible tale of what was happening away in the wilderness of K'eel Doba....

Yowl I.

Another hit, tingle and annoyance.

Unable to relish my appetite, I must take from this place. Leaving the pack leader with one last longful glare, we both knew this was not over, I would be back...

...for his son, and anyone else in the path of evil.

I emerge where I might recover my strength.

It would take more than a spear through the midsection to conquer the evil within, and the following hit to the body surrounding.

Albeit, not a whole hell of a lot.

Any softness she might have been extending to the quiet Phalomir disappeared in a fraction of a second, replaced by adamantine hardness. Her lip curled dangerously, and she tilted her head a bit to one side.

"I must depart now," she whispered then, and raised an arm in preparation. She paused for just a moment longer, allowed her violet eyes to penetrate his green ones, rushing therein as if diving into the refreshing coolness of a quiet and secluded body of water.

A heartbeat....

But at length pounding hearts lessened their wild beating, snarling visages resumed their more natural mein, and they ceased their search to congregate at the site of the one to speak for them, one who came shudderingly close to giving his life in this mad and unexpected foray into evil.

Another warrior took it upon himself to direct his fellows. They bent down mutely, laying their hands upon their unconscious comrade with the greatest of honor, and raised him up between them. After a moment or two, another Sith bent and retrieved his spear, as well as the charred remnants of the one belonging to his son.

The little entourage headed back to their city, solemnity shrouding them like a miasma, but a fog illuminated only by the small delight that at least they bore with them two captives: a blue-skinned individual and a red-haired man, both of whom had fought bravely.

This was something the Sith honored, even in an enemy. Thus it was that they didn't kill the two men, but brought them along with them instead, watching them with hawk's eyes, waiting to see if they would suddenly disappear from sight as well.

Nothing untoward happened, and they soon entered into the outskirts of the city, a portion of which was soon filled with the resurgent wails of shock and despair and disbelief.

“Wait!” he shouted, just as the portal closed and vanished.

“Always too soon,” he sighed. “And never are we finished.”

“Oh, you’re finished,” came a voice from behind.

Phalomir spun to face the newcomer. He saw nothing but the flickering shadows dancing along the hallway, created by the soft light from the strange spheres along the walls and set into motion by the torchlight that accompanied.

“Who are you?” Phalomir asked calmly.

A movement from a shadow caught his attention.

“You know me,” came a low, smooth voice. A figure appeared, obscured by shadows – almost unnaturally. The figure appeared to be Phalomir’s height, and the dim light betrayed the outline of large horns jutting from the being’s forehead.

“Do I?” asked Phalomir. “You appear to be Sith, but I am afraid the voice is not familiar. Perhaps you could refresh my memory?”

A raspy chuckle came forth. “Yes, you should be afraid, especially if you require me to refresh your memory. Surely you do not expect me to believe you have forgotten me? Forgotten how you stole from me my proper birthright? Forgotten how long I hunted for you? Forgotten how you pleaded when I slew your family in front of you? Forgotten how you escaped my through time, and have been running like a cowardly mongrel ever since? DO YOU?”

The figure stepped from the shadows. He was indeed a large Sith, Phalomir’s size. A long scar ran the length of his right cheek. His gray eyes bore deeply into Phalomir. His horns showed signs of damage, the most noticeable was a large chunk missing near the base of the left horn. The Sith placed a hand to the damaged area.

“Have you forgotten how you did this to me?” he asked. “Well, my brother, I have not. And you shall suffer more than you have ever suffered, as will those you travel with… and especially her.”

Phalomir felt suddenly afraid, a strange sensation that overwhelmed him. He still had no idea what this person was talking about, but if meant to harm Panthar, Shayla, or Erick then this ended now.

Phalomir took a battle stance.

“Whoever you are, you will not pass me,” he growled, “to harm those outside.”

--quite literally--

--broke lose. He hadn't any idea how long he'd been standing there gaping after it was all over with, his heart torn in a million different directions.

Matt and Dash were captured, and probably headed to the main city. They'd probably be taken to that Graysith character, who would do gods knew what to them when she found out that they had returned after being told to leave. And on top of all that, Galen was out there missing somewhere, possibly on this very planet. And he was...

...undetected and free, at the moment...

...might play to his advantage, but what about his buddies who were captured now?

"So much for what plans I may have," he said then darkly. "The best thing at the moment I can think of is to alert the Imps to their capture. But--"

He paused a moment, pursing his lips in thought, "I've still got a reason I'm here, aside from bailing my buddies out, and perhaps being undetected will play to my benefit. I'm here looking for someone; someone whom has seemingly disappeared from existance but just may be here since it's the last place we know she went. Problem is, Dash was the one whose senses we were using to seek out places we thought she might be..."

Suddenly Jasyn trailed, glancing upward as he noticed Imperial TIEs cruising overhead. He made a decision, and reached for his wristcomm...

"Imperial escort, two of my buddies have just crossed with a squad of Sith guards and have been taken captive; I have been seperated from them but I believe they are being taken to the main city here. Our seperation and their capture occured when we were investigating the unknown lifesign and crossed paths with some crazy dark-eyed lunatic who can apparently disappear and reappear in various places. His location at this point is unknown. Question for your sensors: what sort of lifesigns and technology are you picking up just west of my current location? My equipment picks up little in the way of either, can you confirm this please?"

At this Jasyn fell silent and waited for the Imps to answer, expecting them not to care about Matt and Dash's capture. Meanwhile, however, he eyed Wyatt curiously, his thoughts suddenly returning to the nerve of that dark-haired crazy. "Who the kriffing hell is that disappearing guy?"

...and not because they had been captured, again. Though both he and Dash had fought their hardest, the ill-fated outcome to their battle didn't come as a surprise to him. But the utter cruelty of that dark-haired guy had him floored.

It was truly only the face of evil that could purposefully harm...

...and kill...

...an innocent child.

Matt frowned slightly at that, still walking amongst the deceptively calm Sith. Somehow Matt knew deep down that their hearts were heavy...

...how could they not be?

It was only when the point of a spear nudged him that Matt realized they were being lead to a stop outside a familiar temple. He'd been here once before, to his knowledge...

...and according to Aaron Barnes he had been here many more times than even that. As the Sith warriors around him barked various orders back and forth, Matt simply waited, wondering just what they were going to do with he and Dash. He didn't dare utter a word yet until it was requested of him; he didn't want to appear in any way like the dark-haired man who had approached these Sith with such an air of arrogance.

Aaron had said that the Sith were supposed to be an honorable race of peoples. Thusfar Matt could say he totally agreed even though he'd been captured twice by them...

...and he most certainly hoped that his assessment remained accurate...

A movement to the left caught his attention, and Panthar shifted his gaze to the tuk’ata on that side. It had lifted its head and seemed poised in a listening stance. It suddenly spun around and roared, as the space behind it seemed to open and a blast of white energy burst out of the strange vortex hovering in the air. The tuk’ata exploded into a ball of red.

A lone figure stepped from the vortex, and the air returned to normal. Panthar’s jaw dropped and his eyes widened as he realized he was looking at his own body.

“Um, Shayla…” he said, not turning. “I think I’ve found Thoran…”

“You would kill me, my brother?” the Sith said. “Then do it, for I shall surely do the same to you – when the others have suffered enough. But know why you do it. Is it for them? Or for yourself? Or for her?”

Phalomir hesitated.

“Oh yes,” the other Sith continued. “I see it. It is for her. After all this time, after so many attempts to make contact, to see you fail when you are so close… this is indeed exquisite!”

Phalomir felt the heat rising within him. The skin on his hands glowed softly.

“Ah, yes, I feel the hate within you,” said the stranger. “Let it well, use it. The humans outside are already dying at my hands.”

Phalomir twitched. Something was not right – he was ready to strike this man down, but something inside him held him back. There was more to this than what was apparent, and patience would prevail.

“And then I will have my way with her. She shall plead for mercy, her powers useless. I will make her beg like an animal – first for pity, then for death. But it will not come, not until you have witnessed her utter and total defilement. Only then will I kill her, slowly. And you shall watch it all, helpless!”

An image of the Dark Lady flashed through Phalomir’s mind. Her eyes wide, the years of pain reflected in them. All logic left him, leaving only the powerful driving force of his love for her and a primal instinct to protect.

A searing cone of red energy blasted from Phalomir’s hand, driving into the Sith before him. The Sith screamed and instantly brought forth a blade from behind his back. Without thinking, Phalomir was upon him. He grabbed the blade hand and brought his knee up hard from under, hearing the bones crack. The blade dropped, Phalomir swooped down and in one motion grabbed the hilt and brought the blade up, splitting the Sith’s midsection open. He was covered in a warm splattering of red, and relished in it as the figure before him fell to its knees.

And smiled broadly…

“Yes…” the Sith said hoarsely, blood bubbling from his mouth. “Now that is the Phalomir I know… We shall meet again...”

The Sith fell to the floor in a pool of blood – and vanished. Phalomir looked around and found he was in the temple hall, light from the entrance casting shadows on the blade in his hand. He felt calm – released.

Could it be him, returned?

Her thoughts flew to ShaRhylla, lingered there. Returned to the warrior, who had quieted, the tale he carried having been borne.

Suppressing a sigh, she pursed her lips.

"How far away?" she finally asked.

Salandaar blinked and tilted his head as he thought. "Two day's hard travel," he finally related, nodding to confirm his own assessment. He raised his head, straightened his stance, and stood ready for whatever orders his Lady might then issue.

They were not long in forthcoming.

"Send a full squad and retrieve those who have been taken captive. Bring them here, to Phrinnchatka, to me. If anything untoward should befall them in the meantime, let me know. Use communication devices, and heavy armament.

"I must give some further thought to this strangeness that has descended upon our people."

The aquamarine-eyed warrior closed them as he bowed, a fisted hand upon his chest. Then he left to see to the implementation of his orders.

Graysith watched him go, then continued her walk through the shadowy corridors of the temple. With no real destination in mind -- she was far from hungry or tired -- she moved like a wraith, letting her feet carry her hither and yon, turning here and there as she came to intersections, occasionally coming upon stone stairs leading down, always down. Not realizing her familiarity to this particular section of the temple, she kept walking, heading deeper and deeper into its mysterious bowels. The walls grew dank with moisture, heavy with eerie mosses and clinging vines. The air grew musty with the scent of ages.

From somewhere amidst the swirl of the myriad years this place presented, there came a shining sense of other years, massively hovering around like a dimly seen enveloping cloak, years coming not from the past, but from the future....

She paused, wondering at the sudden warmth she felt, here beneath the earth, surrounded by dripping stone and dimming light. Gasped reflexively as that warmth suddenly transmuted into glacial ice.

And there and to that, she sank to her knees and remained mute.

He drew his hand back and prepared to launch the powerful ball of energy. A glimpse of movement to his right brought Thoran’s attention to the other tuk’ata bearing down on him, and the energy blast meant for the Sith was redirected at the last moment. The tuk’ata exploded in mid-strike, sending blood and entrails flying into Thoran. He wiped his face with his sleeve and turned his attention back to the pair on the temple platform. He resumed his grin and once again felt the power flowing into his hand, helping him ignore the tuk’ata’s blood dripping from his hair.

"Look, Mr. Guardian Angel, unless you've got something kriffing impressive to fight against the Sith with, I'm gonna use all the help the Empire is going to give me...

...for now, at least. And if that fails..."

He paused a moment, reaching for his blaster, unholstering it, and waving it in the air for emphasis, "... this is the best guardian angel a guy can have."

At that Jasyn lowered the blaster, but didn't reholster it. Pursing his lips, he considered his next move. He knew where Matt and Dash were probably going being taken...

His brown eyes refocused on Wyatt once more. "Look, you do whatever the kriffing hell you want to do...

...I suppose you will anyway since you're an angel and all...

...but I'm going to check out that urban complex before I do anything else. I have an advantage now...

...and I plan to make use of it..."

With no further ado than that, Jasyn put his wristcomm to his lips once more. "Can you confirm the exact location of the urban complex 150 clicks from my current location?"

...and simultaneously struggled through a strong mind to the sleep center of Thoran's...

...and Panthar's...

...mind. The fact Thoran was in a human body made this task only somewhat easier...

...and in the space of less than a moment Shayla could feel Thoran falling unconscious. Only then did she open her eyes and turn to Panthar, all the while keeping a probing link on Thoran's mind to make certain he was fully unconscious.

"Hurry!" she exclaimed, "We've gotta get inside and get out of here..."

Thoran, what are you doing? Finish them!

The Dark Lady. Jharmeen. Her safety was threatened.

But why did he care? What was this strange hold she had over him?

What did it matter?

He strode towards the opening, his long legs closing the gap quickly. Soon he burst from the temple into the daylight, the large tuk’ata seeming to stand guard at the entrance and preventing a very agitated Shayla and Panthar from entering.

A quick look around showed Phalomir a strange scene. In the distance the ship hovered, piloted by Erik. On the ground near the temple lay a human body, and close to it lay two piles of bones and flesh and gore. Phalomir’s eyes shot to Shayla’s.

“What has happened here?” he asked sharply. He shook his head, there was no time.

“Never mind,” he said. “We must depart this place now. Explain to me on the way.”

He paused briefly to stroke the tuk’ata behind an ear.

“I shall return for you, my friend. In the meanwhile, guard the temple and keep safe the—“

Then reality returned in the form of grunts and heavy breathing. She groaned but managed to turn her head to the sound; gradually the blur filling her vision sharpened and vague shadows took form.

Her head spinning, she could only lay there in an inelegant heap, and watch as Phalomir and what appeared to be Panthar rolled about together mere meters from where she was, the only parts of her body capable of movement for the moment being her eyes, which widened further with every passing second.

*PSSHK-kktk*

The tendril entered into her being on the merest wisps of memory, as if the sound it carried was that of the tread of the mist upon a quiet pond, and entirely too loud to bear.

She blinked... shook her head, tried to focus on the pair yet rolling and scuffling on the stone floor in front of her.

"...I know not if our thoughts are still bound... But if My mind reaches you now... I need to speak with you... Come to me when you have time..."

Now a gasp dripped from her lips, as that unexpected voice strengthened within her, bringing with it the certainty of who it was who had sent it.

Their Link. In the time since her husband had left in the night, on the eve of his battle with Dark Lord Roan, she had forgotten it; repressed it, pushed it down and deeply away, thinking it unnecessary as each visit to that gnarltree grove on Dagobah had seemed to assure her....

Blinking again, she tossed her hair from her eyes and propped herself up on her elbows. On her forehead the Glyph began to raven; part of her tensed with the conviction that its radiance would be immediately followed by another red blast from Phalomir; or would it yet be directed at her from the body of the other one? She raised herself up a bit higher, freeing a hand to grasp the rounded end of the odd device Phalomir had given her, somehow startled that it very much did hang upon her thrimm where she had thought she had placed it.

A final niggle....

"I shall wait as long as need be... But please Jharmeen... Come to me one last time..."

A growl rent the air of the corridor, joining with the noises made by the grappling pair, coming from somewhere deep within her throat. Within, the Beast's eyes glinted, a massive paw rushed down to squelch a tiny spark which dared try to flicker into life before it.

A spark representing what... something. A feeling. Emotion?

Which?

And for who?

Light from the dismal sconces marring the walls gleamed from her suddenly bared teeth, and she found herself on her feet and rising. Then she remained still, her face ranging like a hunting animal, seeking, sensing, half ignoring the fighting pair, yet all the while keeping a wary eye upon them.

The Beast, sensing victory of a sort, threw back its head and yowled again, for the barest of moments losing command of its eternal, internal realm. From without its razored toes there came the barest flicker of light; it flew along the Link like a moth following a flame.

And far away and to somewhere else came a single, albeit coolly issued word.

"Recinis."

And the sentience inside the human before him had something to do with it.

Phalomir growled deeply and glared at the human, inhabited by his “friend” Thoran.

“Phalomir,” said the man. “We meet again so soon.”

The voice was different, somehow reminding Phalomir of someone other than Thoran. He thought hard – the stranger in the temple!

“You are not Thoran,” he said. “Who ARE you? Where is Thoran?”

The man frowned. “Thoran is sleeping. He -- underestimated -- the powers of the force user. That shall not happen again. But as for you, my old friend, I know your abilities well, and I shall delight in taking my revenge upon you.”

The man glanced behind Phalomir and smiled widely. “And I shall take it now.”

In an instant the man twisted his body sideways and jumped to the wall of the mossy hallway at an incredible. He seemed to walk up the wall, bringing a hand up and blasting Phalomir with a blast of bright white energy. Phalomir yelped as he was hit full force by the blast and was sent flying backwards several feet, sprawling backwards on the damp ground. He shook his head and jumped to his feet, sending a blast of his own back at the man as he lighted to the ground. The energy caught the human in the chest, but the blast seemed to simply enter the man and disappear. The brief moment of confusion was enough to keep Phalomir from noticing the air next to his head whirl as a small portal opened. The blast of energy emerged from the portal and smacked into Phalomir’s chest, knocking him to the wall.

Phalomir tried to stand, but the force from the last blast was too great. He stumbled back and leaned against the moss covered wall. The man smiled again.

“You cannot defeat me, I know you too well. And now, my old friend, you shall watch her die.”

Phalomir glanced to the area the man’s eyes were staring. His face went a pale red as he saw the Dark Lady struggling to her feet. She was suddenly everything to him, all of his thoughts focusing on her… all… he could not defeat this man alone, and he was sure she could not as well, but together… with the Finger, which she held in her hand.

“My lady!” he cried, forcing his legs to move. He picked up speed, and reached her just as another blast of energy slammed into him. He focused on the Dark Lady and reached her, grabbing her arm. Her eyes seemed distant, her teeth were bared.

“We can only defeat this being together. I send you my magick, channel it with your All Force…”

Her focus was on the Link, to another place, taken for the moment by another being.

Yet cold and distant as well.

It was the Beast who saved... well, perhaps not her, not Recinis, not anyone at all. Not intentionally, at least. It threw back it's massive head and let out a great, ripping snarl, sending its talons rending through Graysith's torso in a strange form of incorporeal reality, reaching outward in one final instinctive thrust to save...

Itself.

Directly ahead, a human fell back before the onrush of sweeping claws, claws unseen and weirdly enough, unfelt, though not undeadly...

...while far away and elsewhere, another Sith fell back as hot air blasted across his face, and something strong and unyielding formed from thin air to send him flying from his perch to land, face down, amidst the leaf-strewn dirt all about him.

Redness gradually faded from her eyes. Her breathing returned to something approaching normal. She cast her eyes down to her hand with a calmness entirely out of proportion to the situation, and gave short speculation to the red-skinned fingers now grasping her there.

Hands of a Sith.

Now she let her eyes rise up to meet his, eyes somewhat unfocused as their owner struggled to gain his feet, to reacquaint himself with alertness. They paused but once in that rising to take in the quiet form laying as if glued to the mosses of the corridor. Even as she watched more green, fuzzy tentacles of it reached out, laying root in the pores of pale and vein-traced skin of one arm.

She watched that cold progress with a coldness of her own, before allowing her gaze to continue along its former course, finally ending in a sea of vibrant green.

She had seen green eyes such as this before, indeed.

She used to drown in them.

So in silence, she merely waited again, just to see what the tide would carry in upon it.

“My lady… I… Are you injured?” he asked softly.

His vision swam once more, but he staggered only slightly.

“I need you,” he whispered. “I can no longer deny my feelings, and I no longer care of my past and unknown future. My only concerns are my feelings for you.”

Not able to focus on the Dark Lady’s reaction, he threw caution to the wind and continued.

“My lady,” he said quietly. “I pray to all that is sacred that there is some small spark of love left within you -- a small seed. I wish dearly to find that seed and nurture it, my lady. I want to grow it, to see it sprout within you and ease your pain and loneliness. You need someone to understand you, to serve you, to love you – and be loved by you. I wish above all that I could be that person.”

His vision grew dark and he felt his legs grow weak.

Cool eyes of turquoise enveloping her as hands enveloped her face, an essence filling her every niche as something strong and dark and compelling rushed in to take her....

Cooler eyes of gentle green, eyes bearing this thing as a gift, yet eyes belonging to one who took that gift with him as he left, which in turn made the rending from her being of that remaining thing something having not needing much in the way of consideration....

The cooling body of a tiny sprite, a living thing formed of herself and Recinis, formed in the light of this thing, and left to the dark defended by it only....

Eyes anything but cool for the ardor within them, the vehemence through which they spoke, offering her yet again this thing so many had offered, and she had so many times taken.

Only to lose it.

Again and again and again.

She shuddered.

Once.

The Beast let out a deafening blast, one blinding her to the truth in Phalomir's words, letting her only see the past pathways along which such words had travelled.

And to what ends.

She stared at him, fighting.

Her lips trembled.

Then, taking her cloak about herself in the only defense she really knew, she turned to depart back to the only love she ever felt she would ever really hold.

That for the Sith, and the life to which they had been restored.

The final caterwaul of her inner being deafening her as well to the tentative "Jharmeen?" which echoed along the link she yet maintained, only to fade into silence.

Unanswered.

He staggered forward and grabbed her, gently turning her to face him.

“Do not run from me, my lady,” he said. “I cannot bear it again. Don’t you see? I am incomplete without you. As you are without me… Sith magick is the one hand. The All is the other hand. Together, hand in hand, we are complete. The Sith need you, my lady – but The Sith need me as well – and I need you.”

A pinhole which flickered and brightened, striving to burst into flame.

Nothing.

Another set of eyes suddenly swam into her vision, a pair the color of freshly extruded lava, heated and fiery and the most powerful she had ever seen.

They seemed to be watching her from somewhere. They seemed to be...

Smiling.

She shuddered again as strength flowed in from an unseen source, and straightened in Phalomir's hands. Whatever spark there was yet within her, whatever that spark might possibly represent, was squelched into obscurity by the swooping of a massive paw, the deep rumble of vicious satisfaction.

With a strange kind of objectivity, as if she suddenly was removed from herself and could view the proceedings from the dim eyes of the one still adhered to the mossy wall, she stared up at the Sith, meeting his heat with steady coolness, like the splash of water which ultimately would douse any flame.

Objectively, too, was how she suddenly found herself viewing past incidents, past memories, past loves and pains.

It was as if they didn't even matter to her any longer.

Nothing mattered to her any longer, other than the destiny for which she had been chosen. And the one which she had then chosen for herself.

Unspeaking, she stood there, strangely cold and aloof and silent, and simply....

Waited.

Phalomir straightened a little, staring into her eyes. "The beast..."

...and something else entirely as Phalomir disappeared with Thoran in the body of Panthar Dantares. She wasn't particularly worried about the towering Sith...

...oh no. For here they had risked their very lives to go after him, only for him to then blow them off.

And why was it that it was necessary to follow after Thoran at this point in time? Why had he left them behind to whatever fate awaited them here, and with no explanation whatsoever?

Shayla's eyes darkened, and something flickered deeply in their depths as she whirled quickly on her heel to face Panthar. Her eyes slitted even as she spoke her next words. "We are being used my friend; used as pawns in a game which your buddy Phalomir is determined to win."

Shayla fell silent, her eyes growing impossibly darker. "I'd be surprised if he so much as thinks about us again, especially if he gains what he seeks to from Thoran."

She paused at that then, her eyes defocusing and turning vague at the mention of Thoran's name.

Somehow, even though he was gone, she could still feel him deeply within herself...

She shuddered at the thought, knowing that along the remainders of that link she had was the ice of something horribly evil.

But was that evil of Thoran or of something else? Or was it of someone else?

"You know..." she started then suddenly but extremely quietly. "I'm not so sure we should continue upon this quest any longer...

...not unless we are all ready to face something or someone entirely evil and deadly..."

Quite a walk indeed...

...mountains, foothills, glaciers...

...oh how he hated the cold.

His scowl became impossibly blacker, and he couldn't help but raise the wristcomm to his lips to make a returning statement. "Well, I fully intend to get to that complex, and unless someone happens to give me a lift, walking is the only option I have left..."

...isn't it? came the final mental addendum.

Saying nothing more then Jasyn began walking towards the remainders of the Vindicator, his thoughts set upon getting some equipment and rations out of the wreckage before he headed onward. Only a few minutes later he began heading off, a pack on his back, towards the coordinates the Imperials had given him. And about that time one final little black thought prompted Jasyn to lift his wristcomm once more. This time he dialed in the frequency for Za'in Almar and uttered one highly irritated statement.

"Where the kriffing hell are you Almar? I could really use a lift about now..."

She felt a strange anticipation... and an even stranger dread. Her eyes widened, stared unseeing past Phalomir's shoulder; her jaw dropped and softly whispered words issued from her lips as if uttered by a voice entirely alien to her, words suddenly and strangely non sequiteur, issued belatedly as if having been prevented from being spoken at an earlier, more appropriate time:

"What do you need in me, Phalomir?"

That small voice silenced then as another and far more overpowering one roared out from even greater depths within her psyche, that roar a challenge and defiant proclamation and dire promise all rolled up into one great and fetid blast.

He found himself in a dimly lit hall, strangely colored eyes peering at him from the darkness.

“I need her,” he called out. “The Sith need her. Us.”

There was no response.

“I am typically not a patient man, but for this – for her – I will stay here forever. Speak with me, know me. Please…”

There was a slight movement in the darkness before him.

“Parts of my past are still a mystery, but I feel this more strongly than anything I remember. I have the power of the sorcerers, of the armorers, and of the warriors, and I have Sith magick flowing through me. Yet I feel so incomplete – she is the only solace I take. She has accepted the channeler, and through it my powers and hers may combine and rule the Sith through the storm which I somehow feel is approaching.”

He paused.

“Yeah,” he Panthar. “This is one messed up cluster nugget of a stink hole. Where the hell do we go from here?”

As if in response, the tuk’ata dropped its tendrils and turned towards the temple opening. It entered, then turned again to stick its head out, looking directly at Panthar and then to Shayla. It whined and turned again, disappearing into the temple.

Panthar looked at Shayla.

The words echoed in Shayla's mind even as the tuk'ata continued to look from her to Panthar and back. An involuntary little shiver then swept over her as she recalled the images the tuk'ata's thoughts had inspired in her. She folded her arms then against herself as if trying to push away the cold. Her greeny-blue eyes remained distant.

"I..."

"...I don't think we have a choice. Enter we must..."

She trailed.

Soon the winds – and the roar – subsided. The beast looked down at Phalomir, seemingly expecting him to withdraw or cower. Instead, Phalomir met the beast’s glare with a defiant stare of his own.

Phalomir noticed the small ember glowing under the beast's paws and narrowed his eyes.

"What do you hide from me? What do you fear from me? I had hoped you were here to protect, to serve the Dark Lady,” Phalomir said slowly and deliberately. “I had hoped to convince you of my intentions and make peace with you. I believe my hopes were in vain, yet I cling to them. But know this, beast, that I have little left to live for, knowing that my life must be intertwined with hers.”

Phalomir felt energy flowing though his spirit. A large blade appeared in his right hand, and a shield in his left. A red glow softly covered his body.

“Yeah, well. I guess as an archeologist I should be excited about entering this temple. The problem is, as a living being I am really less than thrilled.”

He sighed and turned to the ship. He waved to Erik, as if waving goodbye.

I smile broadly, and wait, spreading my arms out to either side of me.

“I do not know you personally, Lord Aelvedaar, but know that I respect your title, and you.”

Phalomir’s eyes narrowed once more.

Shayla...?

She hesitated, then replied, drawing all the strength within herself as she did so. I need you at my back, I need you as my strength. Somehow I know I must face whatever lies ahead...

He never responded to this...

...not verbally anyway. Instead he reached out with the Force, his aura somehow enveloping within her own. She closed her eyes but for a moment.

Thank you. I love you.

And with nothing more than that, Shayla opened her eyes once more, all worry and dread carefully hidden away far within her psyche as she looked one final time to Panthar.

"He will keep watch for us," she said simply, and with no furthur ado she followed the tuk'ata inside the grand Temple through widing passageways, unheeding to whether Panthar was following her. At length they came to a grand stairway which spiraled downward and downward til it stopped at a grand entrance decorated with Sith runes and writing. Shayla glanced back a moment in hesitation, then looked once more to the large wooden doors.

Something...something was pulling her inside there...

And with that she simply reached a long-fingered hand out, pushing one of the great doors open and entering quietly therein. The room which she found herself was a circular one ringed with glowing candles, much like a couple of other rooms she recalled in her past. But Shayla didn't recall ever being in this one room before...

...or did she...?

Almost on instinct, Shayla stepped into the center of the room, closing her eyes and sensing outward with the Force, wondering just what may have brought her to this place. And it was in that moment it happened...

...and a link quieted only moments before seemed to spark into strange life. In her mental mind's eye, Shayla saw nothing but black...

...and in the center of that black nothingness she saw a red-skinned Sith, his hand beckoning to her as it had once in a memory she still could not place. The pull on her soul became increasingly greater...

...and the image of the Sith shifted to that of a man, of Panthar Dantares.

Thoran...? Shayla whispered in surprise, though whether she did so aloud or simply in her mind she was uncertain...

...not that it mattered. For in that moment the pull through that link became even greater til at length Shayla could barely contain it. Eyes still closed, she reached both hands to her temples and shut her lids tighter, fighting against the sudden grip something had upon her mind. She reached for the Force to pour healing energies into herself, and the weight subsequently began to subside, bringing her a moments release in which she relaxed her stance a bit.

But then something reached out once more and grabbed her, the image of Panthar aka Thoran returning to her mind's eye. And in that agonizing moment the lights in the circular room flickered and Shayla screamed, her body then turning to jelly as she fell to the floor completely unconscious.

The smile fades from my lips. I straighten, clasp my hands afront myself, let them lay quietly against the richness of my robes of estate, even while my eyes seem to flicker from magma to pewter, iron to fire, back and forth, back and forth....

It wasn't a place he was interested overall in terrian either, though their was a possibility that resources for smuggling would be useful. It wasn't a planet on the mapping so anything could be down there...

Replaying all the thoughts of his first shipment as a smuggler over again in his mind he felt them suddenly blast into oblivion as the alerting beep came from his nav. board. Pulling his hand up from the side of his seat, he pushed at the button activating the message.

Listening as Jasyn irritively spoke, a grin grew on his face. It seemed the frequency also triggered a location to the ol' brown-eyed man. Staring down at the screen as it uploaded the area on the surface Jasyn was in, he pulled his head activating the comm. unit on the nav. board. Entering the frequency with his free hand, he began with his message.

"I'll be there as fast as I can rich-boy." The dark skinned smuggler chuckled. "Just hold onto those credits of your's youngling."

Rich boy??? Who did this kid think he was? Granted, he was a fairly well-off employee of Eagle Enterprises, but he was no millionare, was no Aaron Barnes. Certainly was no Terrin Danner...

That little thought prompted a different sort of dark look deep in Jasyn's eyes.

Maybe he didn't want a lift from this Za'in fellow after all...

Looking up from his wristcomm then, Jasyn lifted a hand to his eyes to block the sun, gazing at the terrain ahead of him. He hadn't been on the move for long, but even then he was beginning to see snow-capped mountains far in the distance, prompting him to shiver a bit just at the thought of just how cold and inhospitable that particular area probably was.

Kriffing hell, if he wanted to hide someone in the last place anyone would ever think of or dare go, somewhere like that mountain range would be the it. A place almost entirely inhospitable...

...and extremely difficult to even pass through in one piece. Someone could get themselves killed trying to pass through there...

“Of course I do not wish her to go mad,” he said softly. “But this seems so… wrong. All of my focus, all of my being centers upon her – upon ruling with her. Why? Why would I feel this so strongly if it were not meant to be? Can’t you understand, she is my purpose!”

He flashed to when he first became aware of his surroundings, occupying the body of Panthar Dantares. He was in a cave, surrounded by skeletons and small stones carved with runes. He shared the body with the spirit of Thoran as well – memories of a false childhood with him so vivid.

He thought of his conversations with the Eye, and with the Revealer. One son to rule them all… Prophetic words formed by the Revealer during his strange time within it… To the Dark we were led by Mir, Through the doors of time we escaped, To the Dark again by progeny. A strange encounter with Roan, the last of the line of Mir, power blasting forth from Phalomir to send Roan into oblivion. Phalomir carrying off Jharmeen as a dark voice whispered to him in time she will understand her legacy, protect her, my son.

That voice…

“It was you,” said Phalomir, wide-eyed. “The voice of the Eye… it is you…but not you… no, not you…” Phalomir heard a snarling from deep within his own spirit, claws raking at him as he attempted to push aside his own beast – that which guarded his memories from him. At last, images trickled forth, winding their way into the mind the pair of sorcerers now used as their own viewscreen.

A young boy, Phalomir, learning the art of channeling his inherent magick. Voices… He is stronger than I, he has his great-grandfather’s spirit… an older, wavering voice… He shall need it, pray he does not have his grandfather’s lack of wisdom…

Phalomir looked to the sorcerer in front of him, taking in the features of his face, his eyes. His hand, now empty of a weapon, went to his own face.

He winced and again tried to access his hidden memories. The beast roared its defiance, but Phalomir pushed harder. Savage claws raked at his spirit, but the strength of his quest for knowledge was too great. The beast toppled backwards, revealing a door. Phalomir reached inward and pushed the door open, the beast whimpering and whining. The door opened onto a vast hall, dark and empty – save for two sets of eyes glowing in the darkness: one turquoise and one yellow.

The images of the eyes now peered from either side of the sorcerers, displayed as if on a giant holo-board. The glow from the eyes cast an eerie hue upon them, the bright turquoise and yellow reflecting strangely off of Aelvedaar, whose expression betrayed the slightest hint of curiosity. Phalomir looked at his hands, one now glowing a soft light blue and the other a bright yellow. He brought his hands together, the colors combining into a bright emerald color.

Phalomir’s eyes snapped back to Aelvedaar.

“Yes, I do,” he said.

He let his hands fall to his side.

Crocodile tears flood my eyes as I once again hold out my arms. Molecules whirl and combine; I can feel myself spreading out as if upon a great and unseen solar wind. Toward the end I look down; the mote is safely speared upon a slash of darkness....

The Beast reared back upon its hind feet, raising up to its full height, forelegs reaching out and raking, eyes glaring, claws extended and sweeping.

A realization came to Phalomir through the emptiness he felt.

“You don’t know,” he said slowly. “For the first time in your life, you don’t know the answer.”

The violet eyes widened. A discernable focus entered him, lifting his spirit.

“She is the one who called me… all along, it was her…”

The blade and shield rose, and as if watching himself from afar, Phalomir approached the beast.

*PSSHK-kktk*

"EE, this is Alpha-trey zero. Ahh-- I read myriad lifesigns all over that blasted range; I would say this planet is rich in wildlife. But no signs of unnaturally formed complexes or humanoid lifeforms, if that is what you meant.

"I would suggest you watch your step; hope you're armed, buddy."

He snickered again, and jerked the TIE into a barrel-roll, just for fun.

"This is Alpha-trey zero, out."

More than she literally expected.

Her body jerked as a spasm burst through it; then her head fell back, flaming hair waterfalling to the floor as she went utterly limp in Phalomir's grasp. Slowly she began to ooze to the floor, overwhelmed by what her inner focus was revealing to her.

The Beast, too, shuddered once, spasming, its great head jerking, its flat visioned eyes darting suddenly about, not to seek refuge but to seek the intruder, the sudden danger, that which threatened its wonderful, beautiful pewter world. Its forepaws reached out in reflex, raking across Phalomir's face without realization, sending that Sith stumbling backward by the force of the unintentional blow.

Two sets of those eyes upon the walls of Jharmeen's mind narrowed.

The violet pair filled with tears.

The Beast regained its footing, its focus; rearing up to a height unnaturally out of proportion, it roared again and descended upon Phalomir, every aspect of its being dripping with menace.

Tears flooded the floor, making it slick.

The pooling of tears soaked through his clothing, and a strange electrical sensation swept over him. He felt the powerful magick within him flow hotly, and the sensation from the tears seemed to trickle through his skin and mingle with the power inside of him.

Against which the Beast lay as well, stunned.

The mote exploded....

Images unscrolled before her, dreamlike. Indeed, some would wonder which is dream, and which is reality. Perhaps one's reality was in fact defined by one's dreams...

Every atom within her body forced her to keep her gaze steady as the image in her direct line of sight shifted its focus.

From:

The image of herself, seen as if in third person, kneeling over the fallen but yet alive body of a white-haired human male, one who didn't even try to defend himself so shocked had he been by her attack upon him. He just lay there, stunned by the fact, stunned by the blow which placed him there, too stunned to prevent those following ones which rained down upon him in a flurry of death....

To:

A face she dearly loved. One she missed as dearly, if not more so. Blue-grey eyes wide, more in wonder than in shock; the roadmap on his cheeks offering her a pathway to a time and place she suddenly dared not remember; a blur coming from one side, a shadow of descending death, and the bloodied rock slams into his forehead, the hand gripping it hers. The rock swoops up and away, out of the field of view; the eyes in front of her close in pain; now the rock appears again... and again... and yet again....

A whimper....

... as the image shrinks, moves away and down, as if the eyes beholding it are rising up above that image. A quick blurring passage of rock and sand and shimmering heat-echoes rising from a desert landscape, marred by the sharp definition of shadows and the movement as small bits of stone skirl across the hot ground. The image swings back, as sharply defined by the blood and the death which reveal it to her, slamming it home, deep into her being, slicing as assuredly as the raking talons of the Beast within, which having fallen backward now scrabbles to its feet, filling her psyche with quite another type of roar, it's eyes flashing about itself as desperation grasps an inexorable hold upon it.

A sigh breezes through it all, mimicking sounds voiced by human lips, a sigh which at length did indeed gain voice, one loud enough to bring Jharmeen back out of herself to the realization that she was laying in Phalomir's arms on the cold stone floors of that hidden corridor of the Temple, the body upon the wall silent, as silent as the mosses which enshrouded it....

...as dead and utterly silent as the remnants of the Glyph upon her brow.

It strikes her then. How could it not? After three years of its steadying presence, how could she not immediately but notice its chilling absence there?

She raised a pale and trembling hand to her forehead. Stared up into Phalomir's opening eyes. Her whisper chilled the damp air of the corridor, borne there by the pain and shame and self-hatred now flooding her being, a collage of despair offerring her but a razor's edge hold upon suddenly tottering sanity, an edge rapidly dwindling, shrinking, even as she cried out in a whisper more chilling for the emotional state projecting it...

"What have you done?"

During that brief touching of lips, he sent his spirit into her mind once more. Instead of a dark, stone hallway he now found himself in a circular cavern, a rainbow of lights streaming in maddening circles about him. He traced the source of the streams to a spot on the floor, and bent down to it. Grimacing, he opened his spirit to the streams and let them flow into him, coiling with his own being, until the entire mass was within him. Struggling then to maintain himself, he focused on his love for the Dark Lady. It grew within him, forcing the mass of madness into a tight ball, then sprang forth from him and flowed into the hole left by the rainbow streams.

He stood, gripping the ball of madness tightly within him, and let a strand of energy remain connected between him and the bright ball now replacing the rainbow. He retreated from her mind and released his grip upon Jharmeen. He could feel the madness now within him already trying to free itself, but he remained in control.

Yet strength was there to face that particular horror.

She turned her eyes to the grimacing Phalomir. Watched as he forced something of a smile to his face, then slid down against the wall propping him up until he hit the floor. Their eyes held them together then, and she scrabbled over to him on her hands and knees, all propriety forgotten.

The Glyph on her forehead was as cold and as barren as was the fear suddenly rising within her.

Trembling, she reached out her hands to Phalomir, cradled his head against her, rocked back upon her knees and held him.

All the while wondering just what in the universe she would now be able to do.

The master… he was gone? No, he was here, but very weak. But there was something else there… a link of some kind… to… a woman? Shayla?

Yes, it was Shayla. But how… why? For now it did not matter, the master was weak now and he needed to escape this predicament. He followed this link to Shayla, and felt healing energies flowing upon it. He grabbed hard and sucked all he could from her, feeding it into the master. Soon he could feel the master gaining strength, and suddenly the plant growth seemed to shift its very molecules and he was free. A portal opened before him, and casting a last look at Phalomir and the Dark Lady, he stepped through.

--

Thoran stepped from the portal, and ran hard into Panthar, taking the Sith by surprise and knocking him backwards. Before Panthar could react, he grabbed Shayla’s limp form and stepped back through the portal, snickering at the deafening roar from the tuk’ata.

--

...but a sense deep within her warned her that now was most certainly not the time for that. She groaned, her eyes fluttering til at length Shayla managed to force them to remain open.

Directly in her line of sight was Panthar Dantares; or rather, Thoran. With a start, Shayla sat upright, her greeny blue eyes suddenly wide and very alert. They were surrounded by utter darkness, and Shayla instinctively stretched out with the Force to inspect the surroundings she could not see.

She came up with a vaguely familiar void, one only interrupted by the being who stood in front of her. Everything else was simply gone, gone from existence. Just like when...

...realize your true potential Shayla. You still have yet to discover it, haven't you...?

Shaking her head to clear the memories bouncing therein for the moment, she focused steady greeny-blue eyes upon Thoran, standing as she did so.

"Why have you brought me here? What is it that you want from me?"

…then quieted as it was met by a rushing warmth of equal intensity, coming from within as if to protect her.

Blinking, she tightened her grip about Phalomir and took a deep breath. She reached within then, actively seeking that with which she had become so familiar with over the years, only to find it unwilling to respond. A strange emptiness seemed to reside within her instead, the middle of which reflected a scene as if it was the shining surface of a pond.

The scene, repeated over and over like a visual mantra to hell, of the rise and fall of the rock which killed her father, a rock guided by her own hand.

Immediate knowledge flooded into her then; she bit her lip hard enough to bring blood, but managed not to voice that which then fought within her: the stormy approach of anger and fear, directed toward the man she yet held in her arms.

How could she give voice to the sharp whiplash of that heated emotion? For so clearly did she feel the responding warmth he had placed within her essence, a warmth that protected, offered her haven against the madness she knew she would otherwise have descended into. Indeed, she had been nearly engulfed; she shuddered as fresh memories of that hideous experience replaced the killing scene in the pool of her memories.

She trembled again, knowing what had occurred and why. Tears came to her eyes with the twin realizations of what Phalomir had done, first unwittingly toward her, then determinedly for her. She opened her mouth to cry out, but stopped.

Another warmth captured her attention. It lay upon her thigh, filling the air about it with the color of blood.

Knowing she could not use that mystical device she had so recently accepted she bowed her head, and at long last let loose the tears which had managed to be held at bay throughout it all.

Dammit, with the sky-show how could Za'in kriffing miss his location?

At that, he raised his comm to his lips for yet another time, this time returning to Za'in's frequency. "Look, kid, whatever you are doing, I'm on the move. If you can't find a bunch of showy Imperial TIEs for yourself...

...well then, that's your problem I suppose. As much as I'd like a lift, I haven't the time to continue to wait on you."

With that, Jasyn snapped the comm-frequency to a close, unholstered his blaster, and gave the mountain range ahead one final appraising look.

Didn't look so bad, he tried to tell himself, warring with the other black thought that had been floating in his mind since the Impy had reported the lifesigns in the range. What if one of those damned creatures that Aaron had said killed Terrin was up in that range...?

Jasyn bit his lip at the thought, then his look hardened into one of determination. Then so be it. If anyone was going to get to Dash and Matt...

...and Galen for that matter, he had the best shot at the moment. And he damned well was gonna take every advantage he could get.

A smile grew on his face as he laid back, the seat's fabric comforting him as he heard the disturbing sound of restlessness from the comm. unit on the navboard. Obviously it was Jasyn, it wouldn't be plausable for it to be anyone else, but the reason behind the message was impatience. Their could be no other explaination, atleast not one that could Za'in could think of, which made it all the more annoying.

"Brown-eyed impatient bantha fodder." The young smuggler mused angrinly. "Lucky I'm being patient with you..."

The once EE employee continued on, the body of his ship dodging a few obstacles in his path as the distance between the waypoint became less and less from the visuals given by the holomap. It hadn't uploaded much information of the land, but it did have the capability to still find a specific waypoint on the forgein world.

When finally arriving, his eyes greeted the new figures of darkness lying motionless in the sky. The skyline was filled with TIEs, ready to proceed with anything that Jasyn requested.

Or so I assume... Za'in thought, the words ringing in his head with a worried tone.

Bringing the best combination of hardened material and interior smuggler designing to the ground, the Eagle cried out it's last cry before it came to the skyline once more. Bringing the repulsorlift to highest level, the ship floated motionless above the ground as he prepared the landing gear. Clicking a few things inside the cockpit, he brought the swoop helm from his head and brought the ship down with his open hand.

Feeling the shattering sensation drill through him as he hit the surface, the sound of a thud rung through his ears, bringing a frown to his face. It wasn't a mechanical injuring landing, the ship was far too strong for that, but it was earth injuring. Their possibly could be a crater welcoming him as he brought his head outside of the cockpit to scan the landscape for Jasyn.

When finally bringing the courage from within to his head, he popped the cockpit door at the ceiling open, bringing his head out. Satisified with the flat land below, he continued on with eyes hitting every grain of sand in the vacinity until he found a silhouette of a humanoid standing ahead.

"Jaysn!" He called.

“My lady, I –“ he started, then stopped, sighing. He struggled for words, and for the strength to say them.

“This is a tremendous loss, and a terrible realization you face. But please listen... You are freed from those who have used you, and would continue to use you. The All is not gone from you, I can sense it within you. Only the ability to wield it has left your grasp.”

He gently stroked her forehead.

“Perhaps you will hate me for what I have caused. But I swear I shall devote my life to you – to protect you, to serve you… to love you if you allow it… and I shall find the means to return command of this power to you.”

He glanced down at the Finger of R’lous.

“The Finger calls to you… we are bound through Sith magick, the two of us. Through me perhaps you may draw upon power to channel. It is yours, if you wish it.”

He closed his eyes and held her trembling head.

They were trapped in space, unable to pass through the blockade, jharu winced suddenly.

"Sir!" he cried out, now reaching out to dance his fingers along his board, homing in on the blip which showed so steadily, and which gave off such a strange signature.

Er, lack of one would be a better way of putting it, he thought as he turned in his seat.

"There is another one of those weird ships out there, Sir. Shall I raise a hail?"

The Officer on Deck came over to him, pursing his lips at this latest event. Not deigning to bend over the younger man's shoulder, he instead came to a halt behind him and looked down his nose at the boards. He studied the blip for a long moment; then....

"Matt and Kelderon have been captured by the Sith," Jasyn said simply. "The Impys have given me the coordinates to the probable destination their captors are taking them, and it's over that mountain range," he continued, giving Almar the coordinates. "And by the way--" he then added, "--the Impys mentioned some areas on planet which their sensors could not read, so you better fly carefully. Who knows what may be out there..."

Jasyn trailed, his eyes turning a bit vague for a moment. Then he continued with, "If you could just get us over the mountain range, we can land and then walk the rest of the way; I don't want to attract attention while we are undetected."

Jasyn paused then, pursing his lips thoughtfully before he added one last thing. "And if you could get us a good sensor reading of the planet while we are in transit...

She did not know what to say.

She did not know what to feel... other than a trembling admixture of shock and fear, something akin to desperation brought on by a sudden sense of being cut off from the universe.

It was as if she was once at the top of a mighty peak... and had abruptly fallen from it. No; with the knowledge of the true intent of he whom she called her Sire, it was more as if she had been pushed. Yet, strangely enough, she did not feel as if she had struck bottom; something within still struggled, still remained defiant, fighting to remain aloft, to fly....

She opened her mouth. No words came out.

She could only stare into Phalomir's eyes, which grew sharper and clearer as the tears standing in hers finally began to dry. Then she closed them altogether, and reached inside once more--

At least this sort of self-inspection yet remained to her.

--to find the Beast, now somehow gentler, less vicious, although no less alert, crouched within. Its shining pewter eyes were affixed to a flickering mote, which lay shimmering at its feet. Every so often it would raise its lips in a silent snarl, but it made no effort to pinion that mote with its claws. Instead it flexed its claws as would a contented cat, in and out, in and out, and upon occasion would let forth that silent growl.

One interspersed with a whine, equally as silent.

Focus returned to Jharmeen Jhin'Dar Q'utaro as, opening her eyes once more, she found Phalomir's eyes very close to hers. Suddenly she became aware of his hands on her face; she flushed, but didn't move.

She didn't know what to do.

But within, a feeling began to stir. Which one it was, exactly, yet remained to be seen. At the moment she was in no condition to examine it too closely. But its eruption into hesitant life brought with it sudden words, words in seeming non sequiteur but words nevertheless terribly, terribly important.

"I-- I feel so empty... so alone...."

He studied the confusion on Shayla’s face.

“The master knows you. The master says we can trust you…”

He raised an eyebrow.

“Well, dung soup!” Panthar exclaimed. “What in the name of the constipated sisterhood do I do now?”

He stood and brushed the dust from his clothes. He stopped as a thought hit him.

“Erik! Oh, lord of lint! He needs to know.”

Panthar turned towards the opening and quickly moved towards the daylight. The tuk’ata remained still, a knowing look dancing in its eyes.

At that she fell silent, her thoughts now spreading to Thoran's other words.

We want the same thing...

...the master knows you...

Something deep within cried out in warning.

Just who was this master? And how did he know her?

Shayla firmed. "I don't know what you want, and I certainly don't know this master of yours. How can I know what he wants if I don't even know who he is...?"

At that she folded her arms, her greeny-blue eyes pinned to Thoran as she waited in obstinate silence.

Beneath that cool touch she could feel his heart beating, strong and steady.

"No, it is not that," she began, floundering for words. A sudden flush forced her eyes away from his, and she found study in the intricate designs woven into his robes. As her eyes fell, she could not help but cut them to the hand which lay upon him, and take in the wrist.

The Tattoo of Entitlement yet lay there, a promise in gleaming gold. Yet the one who had laid it there, who had promised never to leave her... had done just that. Twice.

Her Sire had shown his true colors, had abandoned her once he had used her to his designs.

What assurance had she of Phalomir's words? None, really... other than, perhaps, the fact that the All, in now being beyond her reach, was likewise unavailable to be used through her. And then again, perhaps merely the warmth he had laid within her, which yet screamed out of his integrity in the matter. That was something she felt inside, no matter how she might try to ignore it.

Trembling again, she slowly raised her eyes to his, and let them seek a haven in verdant green, silently crying out without really knowing it of her deep-rooted need for....

...particularly not since something had begun to feel entirely wrong...

...and perhaps empty. He remained at his post however, fighting with his baser instincts until at length he could stand it no longer. He reached for the controls, planning to start the landing procedure...

...when, out of the corner of his eye, he spotted the Sithly Panthar coming out of the Temple and waving an arm towards the ship. Something about this made Erik feel even more strongly that something was amiss...

...so he hurriedly put the ship down in front of the temple, reaching for the controls to extend the hatch only a second after he had touched the ground. And at that he was on his feet, nearly running for towards the open hatch.

“Nothing is ever done by accident,’ he said flatly. “And if I were attacking you, you would be dead. No, dear child, I was attacking the beasts that threatened you. And save you, I did. I would have saved you from the other one, but you sang me to sleep and the master fled before that murdering Sith you call Phalomir could reach us.”

Thoran shuddered.

“I…” he started. “The… I…” He finally shook his head and let his eyes grow wide.

“My life is yours, my lady,” he said slowly. “You are my destiny, and all I am bound to. Together, ruling, until the end of days…”

He closed his eyes.

She paused then, unable to totally escape the concern trying give itself voice deep within her. "Just what has Phalomir done to the Dark Lady...

“Believe me or not, the facts remain. If you will not come to the aid of the Dark Lady then I shall do it alone.”

He relaxed.

“No, you are correct. How can you trust me?” He sighed.

“I will tell you everything. But you will find it difficult to believe. I am Thoran, of the ancients, serving my master the Dark Lord Trelanicus. We have been hunting the criminal Phalomir for what seems like eons, for his past and future treachery against the Sith. He has plotted in the past with the race of warriors, who came to be known to your people as Dark Jedi. And he shall plot in the future with another race too terrible to speak of. This will cause harm to much more than the Sith.”

He shifted.

She jerked reflexively at that, and let a slight gasp escape her lips.

"I-- we must go from this place, and warn the warriors..."

Of what?

Confusion flooded into her then, and she paused in that reflexive withdrawal. Her eyes widening, she turned her face back and up to Phalomir's, seeking advice from another for the first time in so long a period of time she really couldn't determine it.

"How do we rule together, Phalomir?" she finally whispered as, thrilling to another cascading sheet of tremors she raised the tattoo-bearing wrist up between them.

“Warn the warriors?” he asked. “Of what? That the Dark Lady does not wield the All? No, my lady, that is not a requirement of leadership. It rests within you, and will once again come to you.”

He brushed a long red hair to the side as it fell in front of her eyes.

“I am the bearer of all three clans, and – if reality serves me – the now rightful Dark Lord of the Armorers. The warriors are without a Lord… the clans can be joined between us, with a link to the Sorcerers living within the two of us.”

He saw the doubt in her eyes.

...to when she found the Unity statue, buried amidst the old furnishings in a hidden storage room of the Great Temple. And how her first instinct had been to bury it deeper.

...to the vision in the gnarltrees. The ultra-reality of that vision, the solid assurety it had presented her with, not so much in words but in feeling, in how she reacted on a gut level to the words Aelvedaar and Roan had bandied about.

Unity.

And She would die.

She thought somehow it would be Shayla's life that would be forfeit, that the link with the mad Thoran had been what would lead to this terrible event if any footsteps continued to follow along the pathway leading to the uniting of the Sith. Even now, even after just living through the betrayal of Aelvedaar, of knowing the devious nature of Roan, she still believed that what had been presented to her in that shadowy little grove had been true.

Unity.

And at what price?

A thought struck her then, and a certain hardness came into her eyes. It gave her the strength to lift her chin, to set her jaw.

Unity. If this were so, why would Phalomir need her? He did, after all, bear the marks of all clans, and she did not, at least for the moment, have use of the All for him to unite with. If he joined to rule with her, would that negate the unity as they would be presenting a dual front to the Sith?

She shook her head, and took a step back. The Beast uttered a soft whining moan at her conflict, and eyed the mote inside her warily.

She was suddenly too aware of how badly she needed to curl up somewhere and rest, to inspect herself, to find reason for the madness her life had become over the last three years, and give careful attention to that first action she had taken upon that roller coaster ride... even though she desperately wished to shy away from that particular memory forever.

He bowed his head, then raised it slowly to her.

"Then rule me," he said.

It suddenly struck her strange how this one, who had appeared so suddenly, and in so strange a manner, had managed to so swiftly take on the tattoos of all three clans.

He was the one who killed Lord Roan, an insidious little voice crept up to whisper in her inner ear.

She shook her head again, shook away that thought. Pinned her eyes on Phalomir.

"Perhaps," she said vaguely, then with some effort rose to her feet. She couldn't help the hand which rose to touch her forehead; with more effort, she lowered it and clasped the two in front of her.

"It is time to return to my people... to our people," she amended abruptly.

That Sith, beckoning to her...

...what was it that happened that day?

Shayla furrowed her brow, puzzlement clouding her eyes now as she struggled to remember.

In that moment Shayla saw herself, a very young girl, her greeny-blue eyes full of wonder and curiosity. She cocked her head and got to her feet from her resting position on the apex of the mountain she had climbed, slowly coming to the apparition of the Sith which she saw. The closer she came, the greater the need to understand swept over her...

...and she suddenly found herself reaching out a hand. The Sith apparition took it in his own, seemingly preparing to lead her somewhere as his mouth moved in muted words.

But where?

Shayla's eyes grew impossibly more vague as a snippet of the apparition's words slipped into her mind.

"You still do not yet know your true potential, and shall not for quite some time to come..."

That sequed into yet another memory, one of the apparition of Master Skywalker trying to convince her from leaving the Praxeum as a young adult. He had eventually conceded to her...force was not his method of teaching.

Sometimes it takes leaving here to discover your true potential...

At this thought, something deeply rooted in Shayla simply ached. For she had believed she had found her true potential once upon a time, and it was only when she was assisting the Sith...

...and only when she had been working side by side Graysith as a sister.

I can show you your true potential, came Graysith's words echoing in her mind. With effort, Shayla shook herself from her thoughts, unable to fully believe her vision of the Sith apparition against memories which she was certain were real.

"If what you say is true," she said then softly, her greeny-blue eyes locking on Thoran, "Then why me of all people? I am not a Sith, and am merely a Force user. And furthermore..."

She paused in momentary hesitation, then continued, "How can I yet believe a word that you say? It is evident from how you have deceived Phalomir that you are able to toy with a person's very thoughts; how am I to know that is not what you are doing at this very moment? If I am to believe what you tell me about Phalomir causing harm to the Dark Lady...

...I must see it with my own eyes."

he sat pondering for sometime, his mind blanked. The empire was quickly becoming a great annoyance to the universe. he had had little contact with them, but they had been there in every small manor to get in the way of the things he had to do...

then on a random thought he quested outwards
"lord aelvedaar, I require passage to K'eel doba... At one time i'd thought nothing in this universe escaped your hearing and sight, if this is so, i ask for your help...

Continuing on with the works in activation of the boost, the engines hummed with sounds of the Urika jungle. Pushing forward, Za'in swirved the ship from side to side before attaining balance over the trees and other obstacles that could cause ship injuries.

“My lady,” he called out. “There is no ‘perhaps’. If ever my ambitions come before you, then those ambitions end now. There is a price I am unwilling to pay.”

“Believe me or not. I do not intend to waste my energies convincing you of things you already know in your heart. The master told you on that day that you would be called upon, that destiny would find you.”

He closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them again.

"Impossible!" the whispered word burst explosively from her lips.

"How could this be so? You have but only recently come here to K'eel Doba, you have but met me yesterday, you don't know me! How could--"

She interrupted herself at that when the trajectory those words had been taking picked yet another lock in her memories. A little door opened, revealing a turquoise-eyed human. Tall, his face darkened by years of exposure to the stars and framed by his long ashen-black hair, his strong hands clasped in front of the glory of his robes of scarlet and gold, turquoise and black, Darth Wicked seemed to cock his head in amusement at the irony she was now spouting forth. He even went so far as to smile.

Behind him, a shadowy green-eyed figure could be seen. Red-skinned it was and horned; clearly it was Sith. This image smiled not, but instead bore an expression of deep sadness upon his attractive features.

Graysith jerked back, drawing away from yet another inner perusal to focus upon Phalomir. The look on the Sith's face was so similar to the one she had just seen in her mind that she blinked in surprise. The warmth within her seemed to flare up then as from nowhere there came the icy descent of bitter cold. It flowed down within her, slowly yet inexorably, like the toe of a glacier making sudden conquest of surrounding territory.

She blinked again and shivered, not willing to see that battle within. The Beast let out a soft and ladylike whimper, but did nothing other than watch the conflict.

Not knowing how else to continue, she put forth a foot to leave then... but stopped. Calming defense against that strange inner conflict materialized in the form of a dodging thought; she turned swiftly back to the waiting Sith.

"Whether or not you love me has no bearing on the issue, Phalomir," she finally said, finding the strength within to strengthen her voice. It bore up her head until she seemed to be somehow looking down her nose at him, even though he was much taller than she.

"You seek to rule the Sith. In this you are a danger, both to them and to me, for the Sith need the stability to which they have been accustomed if they are to find a proper place in this time into which they have been brought.

"Lord Roan was in error in separating the warriors from the others. This error must be rectified.

"There will be three Dark Lords to rule, Phalomir. Only the future will determine who those Dark Lords will be. Know this: I will fight against this Unity with my last bit of strength and resolve, even if it leads to my death; the Lordship shall be taken according to Sith Law and by their constraints; this--

She held up her right hand, displaying the Tattoo of the Warriors, fighting all the while to ignore the flaring warmth of the one emblazoned on her other wrist.

"--assures that at least the warrior clan has traditional leadership... though I am not Sith by blood."

Her eyes darkened at that as the designs she had momentarily put to one side returned to her with a vengeance. She smiled.

"I am, however, Sith by choice... both theirs, and now mine. I will fight you, Phalomir, and any other who believes he or she can take away their accustomed way of life.

"You may have taken use of the All from me, Phalomir, but you shall not take away my place among my people.

"You shall not have the Sith."

"Sir, the ship refuses to respond to our hails," he announced, falling silent himself at the sound of approaching footsteps. The noise of boots striking shining deck came to a halt directly behind him. He shivered and straightened into a ramrod, knowing without looking that it was the Captain himself who had approached him.

He was not mistaken.

"Oh really," he said dryly. Then--

"Keep sending, Ensign." The Captain's soft but rich voice issued the order almost as an afterthought.

"If this ship seeks to enter planetary atmosphere, it needs to reply to our hails. If no reply is forthcoming within the next fifteen standard minutes...."

A pause.

"Shoot a warning over her bow. And send this information to Lt. General Tarnus's ship."

"Aye, Sir!" the ensign replied, flipping the switch which would pause their signal for a short moment, then bring it back into life. As if that signal was a hand waving for attention across the near-vacuum which separated the fleet from that enigmatic little ship.

"I request clearence to land upon this planet"

...yet there did seem to be some truth to his words. For well did she remember Phalomir's "alliance" with the Empire, as did she remember some of his conversation with Tarnus. He'd made his feelings about a human leading the warrior clan clearly known, and he'd been blatantly clear that he was working for some sort of Unity of all the ruling Sith clans. And on top of all that, he'd left she and her husband and Panthar behind to rot once he thought he'd gotten what he was looking for on Korri'sian...

...so who was to say what his next intended move would be? Granted, he seemed to have changed his tune concerning Graysith after his last encounter with her...

...but was this perhaps something of convience, to meet an end of his own? Yet even in the face of all this, Shayla was still struggling to believe Thoran. And after all she had been through so recently with both Phalomir and Graysith, Shayla wasn't so certain she could believe anyone anymore.

"Very well," she then said, "I know that Phalomir intends to bring the Triad of the Sith into a Unity lead by himself, which would make Graysith an obstacle for him."

Shayla paused at this, her mind still whirling with that little niggle of something wrong. Still Shayla couldn't put her finger on it, however.

"Why did you not warn anyone of Phalomir's plot sooner?" she then asked suddenly, a spark of perhaps what was bothering her registering at last. "I'm certain you had opportunities even when both you and Phalomir inhabited Panthar's body, and you did not," she continued. "Instead you played the part of insanity; why the ruse? And just what is it you stand to gain if you should catch Phalomir...

...for most certainly you have ambitons of your own..."

Thoran bowed his head slightly.

“And I must admit, the long wait in the crystal did take its toll upon my sanity. At first, it was a struggle, and not all of it was acting. But when the master regained his strength he was able to help me in that matter.”

He raised his head.

“There is nothing to fight me for, my lady. The triad shall survive, I have no intention of eliminating that aspect of the Sith. However, there is a need for unity within the triad. You see it upon me, and even upon yourself. We join together the spirits of the clans, and add a new level to the triad. My lady, buried within me are memories – or visions, I am not sure – of what will be… what could be…”

He rubbed his forehead.

“I know what I feel for you, my lady. I have felt it for a time longer than you have known me, for I have known you longer than that. It is very hard to explain, and the visions swirling in my head are strands of time freely flying about, waiting for events to determine which strand lands in place.”

Phalomir felt the ball of madness within him tremble, and the cord which bound it stretch slightly. This was a feeling which did not go unnoticed by the Dark Lady.

“I did not take away your All knowingly, and I will focus my life on restoring it. The answers to much lie within me, buried. And within Thoran, and I intend to find those answers when he…”

Phalomir looked to his side and realized that Thoran was missing. He staggered backwards against the wall.

“He is gone.”

Phalomir closed his eyes. The cord unraveled a bit, the pressure building within him, and a slight moan escaped his lips.

"I should never have brought this upon you. Had I known, I-"

Who would fight against who, indeed; and how...?

--when he paused, wincing. He stumbled back a step or two, his hand flying to his head in apparent pain... even as he spoke his final ominous words. Her eyes quickly cut to where the body of Panthar had been adhered within the gray-tendriled grasp of the mosses; indeed it was there no longer.

She turned back to Phalomir, struggling. Every bit of logic she possessed screamed at her to go back to the main part of the temple, to raise alarm, to seek Salandaar and his squadrons, to emplace them within the Temple and without....

But something stopped her. That struggling, tautly stretched connection she yet managed to feel stopped her in her tracks.

He had, after all, removed the ice-fingered madness which awakening emotions had thrust upon her. He did place a comforting bit of himself within her for protection, even as she had done with her last child between herself and Recinis.

He had handed her the channeller, had he not? He did now remain quiet before her instead of attacking her, here and now, deeply hidden away from any prying eyes, when she was at her most vulnerable....

Why? Or rather, why not?

The Beast within whined against the onrush of another fairly recent memory: that of the red blast coming from him to knock her back when he had been sharing ghosts in Panthar's body... and his subsequent actions. She struggled further, letting her eyes go back and forth between the empty wall and the staggering Sith. Something within her told her most assuredly that this was not a moment to retreat from, but rather a nexus of sorts. A point of choosing. A time for decision.

She cast a look down upon her wrists: one tattoo quiet gold, the other velvety black.

No answer there.

Her thoughts reverted automatically to her Sire....

No answer there as well. Indeed, not.

She closed her eyes then as if utterly ignoring Phalomir's pain, as if utterly dismissing the fact that Panthar had vanished as utterly as a morning mist before the oncoming rays of the sun.

Focused within. Wavered.

Realized that, at the very least, events were being put into place against which her warriors, with all their prowess, probably had no real defense. Realized that the only real magickal defense she might have just could be in this Sith, who now was struggling to meet her eyes even though the pain he was showing had to be enormous.

She bit her lip, once more drawing blood. And finally made a choice. One slim hand raised slowly, to point to the empty wall.

"I cannot help but feel--" she began; stopped. Realized the oxymoron she had been about to state; wondered how to continue.

All she could do was take a small step toward him, that hand which pointed now swinging out to him in confusion, while within her that stretched essence pulled more tautly, as if seeking some sort of help from her.

A strange sensation within which, she finally had to admit to herself, she could not discern the tiniest speck of danger or beguilement....

The captain merely nodded, and remained where he was.

The Officer on Deck retured his attention to the console, leaned over the ensign's shoulder again.

"Identify yourself and the purpose behind the clearance you seek," he ordered clearly yet succinctly. Then he flicked the switch to send that order on its way, straightened up, but remained where he was in the event that order received an immediate reply.

Yet in that rainbow, pulsating and writhing, lay a bizarre sort of clarity.

“Do not concern yourself with Thoran, my lady,” he managed to say. “I will find him. You must lead your people – our people. If unity is to come, it will come on its own, I cannot and will not force it… as I cannot and will not force you to trust me, or be fond of me. But just as strongly I cannot help my feelings, my lady, and I shall continue to love you though it be unreturned. I will protect you, as I have promised, and I will protect Shayla.”

Phalomir winced again, but it was quickly replaced by a weak smile.

“Take this, my lady, may it protect you even if someday I cannot…”

He found the thread that connected him with her, and focused on sending some of his magick through it to her. By her reaction he could see that perhaps it worked, and the channeler glowed softly.

“Thoran has the Eye, but I have the Eye’s power… if I can locate him… I can use it against him...”

He closed his eyes and allowed the rainbow to flow more freely within him. The ball of madness was still contained, the pressure eased a little by letting some of it out. He reached outward, seeking the power that the Eye could manipulate.

But it was not to be found…

"He is gone... I do not understand this... I sense another user of the All, whom I dare not disturb at this time... and I feel the power still within you... but I do not sense Thoran as I have sensed him before."

He looked to the Lady. "How could this be? How could he just... disappear?"

Another user of the All?

Another thrill rippled through her as a sudden realization cemented within her.

She knew she had its use – once. Other than Roan, who was dead, the only one she could think of to use this power would be Lord Aelvedaar. But…

But.

The thought had simply never crossed her mind that other Sith from the future might have this ability. If one had used its strength to manipulate time as Lord Aelvedaar had so easily done, and if this unknown personage happened to be one who wished to prevent some event from occurring now, perhaps to alter circumstances yet to come…

There was absolutely nothing she could do to prevent it. For all she knew, this unknown person might even be Lord Aelvedaar; in either case, not having the ability to touch the All any longer, how could she hope to combat? To stop, to prevent….

She jerked her attention back to Phalomir. He was standing there quietly enough, as if waiting for her to say something. She heaved a sigh of despair… and it struck her.

She might not have use of the All… but she was not unaware of it, nor was she ignorant to its abilities. Perhaps she could yet be of some use.

“There are only two scenarios of which I can think in which Thoran would so thoroughly disappear. Either he has learned to create a chronotic shield about himself as a defensive move, or he has removed himself from reality as we know it.\

“It is doubtful whether he has managed the former, unless he is a highly skilled wielder. Lord Aelvedaar is the only one other than myself who can accomplish this—“

A pained look crossed her features, which she quickly tried to squelch.

“It- it took me a great deal of time, and much effort and practice to be able to create this type of shield. Thus, as I said, unless this Thoran has had much practice using the All, and had a Master Instructor, I feel it more likely that he has taken himself away from reality altogether.”

Another pause for breath, before she finished with,

Phalomir closed his eyes once again and sighed. He again felt for the presence of the All, and found it on a distant planet, and assumed it must be Aelvedaar. He did not touch the presence, but used its essence to keep a more focused bearing on what he sought elsewhere. He then reached… inward… and allowed the power of the Eye to touch the wavering madness circling within him. Surely to Phalomir the “elseness” could only be described as a sort of madness, and perhaps he could use his own ribbon of madness to find it.

Phalomir jerked in pain, bringing his head quickly down and to the left, and leaned against the wall. Bizarre images of distorted creatures swam before his eyes, Sith children with eyes much too large called his name and beckoned him to join them in play, eerily mocking his efforts. He felt himself slipping into a downward spiral of despair, leading mercilessly into a pit of nothingness, while the strange children danced around his mind. He staggered, his consciousness slipping away into the realm of insanity.

A thread within him tightened, and a new vision appeared before him at the center of the spiral. It was the Dark Lady, eyes wide with concern. He focused on her and felt the thread pull at his being, drawing him away from the spiral. The madness about him veered, as if a sphere of clarity now grew outward from him. Remaining focused upon the Dark Lady’s image, he reached out for the familiar presence of Thoran. He felt the power of the Eye, riding along the waves of insanity, and envisioned the search for Thoran as if peering through a long, narrow tube. He continued to follow the power until it reached a barrier. He fed into the power more of his own Sith magick, and the barrier gave, allowing him to see the image of a very startled Thoran… and Shayla.

“He has found us!” he exclaimed.

...when at length, something she was once taught and still held to her heart erupted forward into her pscyhe.

There is no right or wrong...

...only what is in the interest of the Greater Good.

This in mind, she eyed Thoran, considering all that he had told her of Phalomir's crimes and of the plot to catch him; all of it seemed rather grandiose, rather farfetched. Still, the idea of him bringing harm to Graysith was troubling...

...yet also waying heavy upon her soul was Thoran's presentation of facts without proof and his demand for her to choose a side now. Once upon a time another had presented her with a new view of all that she knew and believed...

...but that other had given her the freedom to choose, and in her own time.

It was time to stand her ground. "If what you speak to me is true, now is your chance to prove it," she said simply, glancing towards the portal and clearly sensing Phalomir on the other side of it. "The question is, however, whether you intend to give me the freedom to find the truth for myself...

...or if you intend instead to force a role upon me regardless of my personal views so that you may achieve your desired ends. Indeed you are correct; I will play a part in this...

...though perhaps it will not be the part you wish if you do so force me into choosing a side now..."

...and for the first time really giving Almar a chance to contribute. "Allright," he said aloud, his look still thoughtful although it was directed towards the other man, "If you could get some readings on this planet while we're up, it would be a big help in our search for Galen. You should come up with some unreadable spots in your sensor sweep; those are probably the places Kelderon suggested we search first," Jasyn explained.

"Still," he then continued thoughtfully, "Holding someone you don't want found on the very same planet you are seems entirely too obvious to me, even if that the planet is difficult to get into..."

He trailed a moment, pursing his lips once more and realizing deep down how much he needed some other opinions. His ideas were few and far between. "Hell," he then said, "For all I know of these Sith, they could have stuck her on Hoth or Kessel or anywhere in the damned universe."

"Shayla!" she gasped, pain running through her to think how close to death her once-Adept might very well be at this time.

Yet there was the tug on the thread… and along that thread he sent a thought, unsure if it could be felt through the madness. Anything for you… everything for you…

“Yes,” he said aloud. He concentrated on the energies emanating from Thoran, sensed the entity within him, and felt power draw through the hole in time and space, as if it were a misty red vapor being sucked through a tube. His skin pulsated a bright red.

Be my beacon…

“By not acting, you have chosen with me,” he grinned. “I thank you. Now allow me to protect you…”

Thoran called upon the power of his master, focusing the energies of the All with his own powers. The mingling of All and the dark forces within his own being swelled into a bright yellow ball on his hand. He turned his attention to Phalomir and grinned even wider.

Then he felt it… the pulling of the power from him, the strange draining of the All from the ball of energy in his hand… but the Eye still resided within this body, Phalomir had no control over it now…

Unless…

Thoran searched for the Eye within the body he occupied. He did not find its essence…

“Phalomir, you deceitful bastard…” He felt the power draining further, and then let a dark thought enter his mind. He smiled once again, and then thrust the remaining ball of energy right into Phalomir.

Phalomir glowed brightly. He used the power sucked from Thoran and thrust it back at him, latching on to the small portal-like tube and opening it wider until a real portal opened before him. He sent an energy burst into Thoran and held a hand out to Shayla.

By not acting, you have chosen with me...

Shayla gulped, a wave of something rising within her at these words. Then she forced herself to remain alert, her eyes now only for Phalomir, whose hand was extended to her in a undeniable urgency. And once upon a time not seemingly so long ago she remembered another stay she had in the Elseness, one which was ended only with another extended hand, one which was offered but not forced upon her. And yet here it was again...

...the extended hand. And once more, the choice was hers to accept or deny that hand. Much unlike the forced choice given to her by Thoran.

By not acting, you have chosen with me..

Shayla closed her eyes, a brief wave of pain sweeping over her...

...and then she gathered her wits about herself and reached out a hand to accept Phalomir's extended one...

“Yes?” I queried as I rubbed the back of my neck with a towel. That towel came to an immediate halt then, as the major on the other end gave me the lowdown as to what was happening in the vicinity of K’eel Doba.

Recinis? Wasn’t he a bodyguard to Galen’s sister… or something? I pondered, a frown coming to my face.

Where in hades did he pop in from?

And, more to worry about…

Why?

I chewed upon my lip for a moment, thinking. Here was a Sith who, at least at the time we had all parted ways, seemed to be a companionable sort, willing to accept the weirdness everyone had been plunged into at the time. Perhaps it would be in the best interests of the Empire to continue fostering that goodwill…

… especially when every nerve in my body was screaming out my distrust for the other Sith I had become acquainted with, that Phalo-whosis fellow.

“Allow him entry into the system, and give him an escort through the shielding,” I ordered, laying the towel around my neck and holding it there. “Make certain the beams are interlaced again, and at optimum strength.

He brought the ship down quietly into a little landing bay

As they shut down the ship and prepared for exit recinis looked to his son, giving him a brief nod. "shall we be off then?" with his sons approving nod they left. Stepping accross the plateform he approuched a pair of warriors. These two were older then many of the young boy's who made up the latest soldiers for this clan.

The two seemed to gaze at him for a moment, taking in his features, his stance. they looked at eachother momentarily before nodding to recinis.

“Very well, then,” Thoran sighed, the hurt obvious in his words. “Perhaps your chance shall come at another time, dear Shayla.”

Thoran’s eyes met with Phalomir’s. “And now what will you do, Phalomir? You cannot follow me here, for I shall surely trap you. Do you feel strong enough to kill me? To capture and torture me?”

“No,” said Phalomir. “I do not wish to kill you. I only want answers.”

Thoran’s eye sparkled. “Ahh, the poor Sith Lord has still not found the answers he seeks. The death of the Dark Lady was not enough to jolt those thoughts back, eh?”

Phalomir’s eyes narrowed. He cocked his head and studied Thoran, then stepped slightly to the right, allowing Thoran a view of the Dark Lady backing down the hallway behind him.

“She still lives…” Thoran said loudly, genuine surprise in his voice. His eyes shot back to Phalomir. “This will certainly change things… Phalomir, I am impressed, I had thought you to be a slave to your programming.”

Phalomir furrowed his brows. “What do you mean, ‘programming’? What programming? Please, tell me! Why am I here? Who am I?”

Thoran considered him a moment, then shook his head.

Then her attention was yanked away at Thoran’s words. While she couldn’t quite see that dark one, hovering there in the yet darker environment that was the Elseness, she could clearly hear him. As well as the evil he tried to mask with oily charm.

Or so it seemed to her.

She straightened then, chin held high. She might not have the use of her powers for the moment, but she did have the strange weapon Phalomir had passed on to her. The fact that it was yet linked to… something was evident by the steady glow the Channeller yet emitted, by the heat which bathed her thigh in reassuring warmth.

And even if she hadn’t a lick of any kind of power to her name, she was still the Dark Lady of the Warriors.

“I hear your foul words, Thoran,” she spat as she took another step forward, and yet another and another yet until she was beside Phalomir and staring coolly into that eerie noneness hovering there in the dim light of the corridor. One slender hand went instinctively to Phalomir’s broad shoulder and lay there, offering him the same reassurance she herself was so suddenly filled with. The other fell to the hilt of the Channeller, lingered readily near.

“What he says or not to me is of no business of yours,” she went on, striving to present a steady and calm front but unable to completely mask the darkness and anger growing inside of her.

“Your words have no meaning to me, and in all honesty should be paid no attention by any other as well. Why should one such as yourself, who has placed my Adept—“

A pause, a quick turn, a meeting of the eyes… a sense of returning warmth.

“—My Adept into such peril such as you have, be listened to? By your actions you have spoken more loudly than any words you might utter; should you have issue with our people, you will speak to me and not this one who is not of this place and time.

“As you are not, either!”

Took in the tattoo glowing gently there.

Frowned… and hauled himself upright to whisper to his companions yet again. At length the Sith turned to fully face Recinis.

“We recognize you, Lord,” the highest ranking one of the group stated, now taking a step forward. He fisted a strong hand, clapped it solidly against his chest, bowed over it.

“But,” he continued as he straightened, now waving to his fellows who quickly ringed the green-eyed warrior. “I am afraid we have orders by none other than the Dark Lady herself that you are to be… er, retained upon your return to K’eel Doba.

“Forgive us, Lord.”

Thoran, dispose of them both. Now.

Thoran’s eyes sparked, dark energies pushing stalwartly through his essence and combined with the All forces fed to him from the master, creating a blast of killing power that any bearer of the Claw would have known.

“I am truly sorry, both of you,” said Thoran sincerely. “I should have liked to known you better, but the master was very specific about this. You are now dealing in events neither of you should know of, and there are too many plans riding upon what unfolds now. I’m sure you understand, great lady. There is no ill will intended here, but the fact is that you simply must be dead in a few short seconds. And, unfortunately, since he remembers too much of his past – or future, if you will – roles, he must die as well.”

His hands came immediately in front of him. A large yellow ball appeared between his hands, and a small tear formed in his eye.

“And don't think too harshly of him, he really did love you in his time. Well, goodbye!”

“Listen to me, before you do or say anything else! It was Thoran! He attacked and then Shayla blasted him with something and knocked him out and then Phal came out of the temple and must have seen Thoran doing something because he leaped on him and they both disappeared and then a little bit later the air opened up and Shayla got pulled into some hole which closed up again and then the beastie thing licked my face I came out here and here we are!”

He took a quick breath.

It wasn’t so much for herself. Not even for the sake of Phalomir and Shayla, whose comforting presences she felt hovering close.

But for the Sith.

Always for the Sith…

Her lips couldn’t help but tremble as she took yet another step forward. Now she was hovering at the very lip of the portal into noneness, the Channeller somehow findint passage into her hand. Her lips pursed into nothing but determination as she presented that Channeller forward, holding it out as if it was a shield to protect them all.

Them… All.

What in the name of Khaandon’s Great Ghost was she doing here? She was not worthy… how could she be? How could one who had murdered her own father, the first great love of her life, be worthy of anything? How could she lead the warriors, how could she be their Dark Lady, how—

Swallowing, she tossed her head to toss away those words of self-recrimination. Steadied herself further and took hold of the Channeller with both hands. Lowered her brow and stared intently at her intended prey.

She could because she was the Chosen Daughter of the Sith. Surely that would come forth now, even if it lead her to death.

But death she would meet as the warrior lady she had beem chosen to ultimately be.

She aimed the Channeller….

Burried deep within him was his mothers essence. A bond that was unbreakable even with the boundries of time and space...

And at that moment the bond was tugged taught.

Something came loose in that instant, instinct broke his concious, his mind clouding with the great rush of unthought action.

His eyes exploded from there emerald encasing, burning a deep violet.

A sudden calm encased his essence as he looked up from his temperarily downward gaze.

"no..."

His hand went to his side, removing the blade which resided there.

The sith about him turned in a startled manor, drawing there weapons and ordering him to stand down, he gazed ahead unseeing.

The blade decended in a brillient arc, slicing open the fabrics which held space and time as one Stepping forward through that rip He sheathed the blade and glared at the one whom focused his energies against his mother.

"you'll not touch her" he breathed venomusly

His hand rose, he flicked his wrist, an immense wave of energy errupted from the hand, Jharu's energies flowed through him and into Phalomir and his mothers chanaller, all happening on a base level of instinct for jharu...

The wave moved from the channaler and then through space with regard to time in an odd dance of warped perfection, blasting into the man and throwing him away from jharus mother.

"i will die before you harm her"

His glowing gaze focused intently on the form of his target.

Her eyes widened, and she raised up one hand.

“Jharu?” she whispered, unable to do anything other than that, so great was her shock at his unexpected arrival literally from nowhere.

However the voice of his mother was a blade that could rend the strongest of his defenses... He softened slightly, calming but still ready should anything occure...

Jharu reached out a small comforting tendril to his mother, though to comfort her, or himself he was unsure of.

"yes mother... I'm here... Dont worry... I will never let you be hurt..."

He felt consciousness slipping away, and in this strange dream-like state he sent a thought along the link he shared with the Dark Lady.

Forgive me, I thought it was I who was needed. Clearly, it is you the Sith must stand behind… as I vow to do…

He merly shook his head.

Then—

“We must then hurry,” he replied tersely, nodding respectfully toward the quiet warrior before then ordering his fellows to quicken their pace. In no time at all they had entered the transport and were soon speeding toward the great capital city of the Sith.

Even as the transport hummed along its interior filled with a silence that only grew more ominous with each passing minute… until the squad leader could stand it no longer. Recalling the quiet request of their quasi-prisoner, he began filling him in on what he knew of the latest developments happening in Phrinnchatka…

Thoran opened an eye. The darkness of the elsewhere that surrounded him eased the pain from his retina, but the pain of the other eye resounded. He put his hand to his face and felt a strange spongy substance where he expected a forehead.

“What has happened?” he asked out loud, the words more gurgling than being spoken.

Thoran, you must return to the portal and close it. There is little time.

Thoran rose to his feet slowly, each slight movement sending new shards of pain through every fiber of his body. The dark energies within him sustained his will, and the master must have been feeding power to him as well.

He saw the light from the portal, and brought a hand up to shield his eye… but no hand was there. He brought his other hand up and saw it covered in red with bits of gray on the fingers.

He felt his head again. The soft tissue gave easily, and Thoran realized a great section of his brains were exposed. His left hand was missing from his arm, and he dare not search for damage. He peered out into the hallway at the young being that caused this damage, and allowed that image to burn into his mind. Hatred filled him, and a wonderful sensation of vengeance yet-to-come lifted his spirit. A bright yellow ball took shape in his hand and a sick smile made its way over broken lips and fractured teeth.

Close the portal, you fool!

he tugged on the threads of his concious, bringing focusing his mind once more to the task at hand.

taking a deep breath jharu raised his hand, palm outstretched. he felt a pulse rise within him, he felt the universe which surounded him...

Quickly his mind reached out, mending the threads of space and time which had been severed to create a passage between existence and elsness.

Adept. Graysith hadn't called her that in so long...

And it wasn't even merely the words alone. Shayla could feel the meaning behind them...

...and a sudden sense of returning warmth and purpose jolted her into action. Hurrying to Graysith's side, Shayla laid a hand on one of the red-headed woman's arms and opened up a Force-link with her to ascertain her wellbeing and pour healing energies out if necessary.

"NOOOOOOOOO!" he cried, heaving the ball of energy forward into the mending space.

The ball flew into the patchwork, part of it making its way into the hallway, but most of it staying behind, trapped within the fabric of space and time.

---

Shocked to find Shayla there, to realize that the enemy did have a weakness, that her son...

Her son.

“Jharu!” she gasped, scrambling to her feet in a most unladylike manner, her hair hanging in her face, Shayla’s obvious concern momentarily overlooked the feelings she yet held for the boy welled up inside her, a fountain that could not be stopped. From deep within a sneering little voice tried to stop her, began whispering those awful, All-restrictive self-recriminatory remarks once more, but with some effort she managed to hold them at bay. Within her soul, the newly freed Beast eyed that inner turmoil with a steady eye, circling warily and every so often letting loose a low growl.

All went unnoticed as Graysith rushed to Jharu, her outstretched arms flinging around him and pulling him to her in a loving embrace.

“Jharu…” she murmured and fell silent, holding him to her as if she never wanted to let go but wished to keep him protected there from all harm. For indeed the young halfling now had an enemy, one he had wounded terribly.

Slowly he regained enough strength to return her grasp. "mother... I missed you" was all he could manage befor releasing a few tears.

His vision blurred momentarily as he felt himself grow weeker, but he held onto his conciousness as though a ravonous animal protecting a last meal... Though his body and mind were not used to extension of power, and his adrenilen had used most of his energy, he dare not lose conciousness for fear of waking and finding it had been a dream...

And even with his great weariness and immense joy a small piece of his mind, a piece worked deep and well by his father, considered his actions... He had let his attacker escape... It was unwise to leave an opponant undefeated... He knew this... But he also knew he had no grasp on the depths and limitations of the powers he possessed... he had no idea what he could and could not do... he merly knew that he had done something... But one day... One day he would finish what had been started... But for now... He would sleep.

They seemed so natural together, and the memories of another day nonchalantly came to mind. Meories of Jharmeen and Phalomir, taking a walk by the sea, a small boy walking between them, each hand holding one of theirs. Every few steps they would both lift and the boy’s feet would fly from the ground as he let out a gleeful yelp. A glorious day with their son…

He closed his eyes, head heavy. False or true, these were memories which would not reflect reality in any way for him now. Even if he had indeed found a life with her at another time, another place, another… timeline… this was a different place. He did not exist here until recently, and by all intents and purposes should not exist here. All he had here were his promises to Jharmeen… and the leadership and curse of the Armorers. Bitter reality crashed in upon him and he opened his eyes, more alert now.

The boy had fallen asleep in his mother’s arms, and more painful visions of another time filled his thoughts. But he would let them pass. He must.

“My lady,” he said softly, rising slowly. “You have a fine boy. If you allow, I would care to be introduced more formally…later.”

Deep within his mind lay his sleeping child like image, dispite the fact that he was older then that image proposed... It was him.

From deep within the shadows of his soul peered an imposing being of great strength, hidden by the mysteries of his mind... Only revealing the warm protective glow of violet eyes all at once filled with love and hate... All at once ready to give live, and snatch it away... to lend power and to drain away every once of energy it could get its hands on...
This beings gaze was soft, dispite the chaos of condradictions which blazed in its eyes...

It reached from the shadows, revealing the strong arms of a sith, and tugged tight a protective blanket around the sleeping concious of the childs mind.

No sooner had it finished this action before it turned and returned to hidding, vanishing completly from existence.

“My lady,” he said softly, “Thoran may return. I know you and your son are fatigued, and I shall do my best to defend you should Thoran reveal himself again. But, this—“ he glanced around at his surroundings, “—is not the best place to be recovering. Fortunately, everyone is here now and I can defend all of you at once. Better yet, we can find what individual strengths may combine among us. But perhaps we should move away from these sub chambers?”

He reached down and gently pushed a stray hair from her eye.

“And, my lady, if I may be so bold, you need a bath. The Chosen Daughter of the Sith has work to do, and it is time we learned of this channeler.”

Jharmeen tilted her head slightly and regarded him. Without thinking twice, he gently scooped up both the Dark Lady and her son and lifted them.

“Where shall we go, my lady?”

((OOC: Story continues in Through the Past Darkly in the "Jedi Praxeum & Sith Temples" forums, thank you.