Shayla's lips quirked in a smile at Graysith's "command," then she sobered, turning towards the warship's navboard once more, one of her long and slender fingers reaching for a lone sigil. With ease, she pushed it and leaned back, the smile returned to her face as she felt the comforting feeling of a ship spreading her wings into the vastness of hyperspace. As stars stretched out into starlines, Shayla let her greeny-blue eyes follow them, savoring this one simple moment of enjoyment. Behind her she was certain she heard Jasyn Lancaster mutter something about hating space travel...

...and she let her lip qurk up a bit more at that before she sobered entirely, for a moment was indeed all she had to spare in such enjoyment. She closed her eyes, trying to stay in the moment just a little bit longer...

...when the flash of the image of a Sith returned in her mind's eye in an almost haunting manner. She frowned as something in that vision finally became clear enough to catch her attention.

"The Sith in my vision..." she stated quietly, a frown still upon her face, "He has the mark of the Sorcerors..."

“Remember that whoever it is we are dealing with here, he is a Master when it comes to manipulating not only one’s physical form, but one’s mind as well. It stands to reason then that this one would belong to the clan of the Sorcerers if he would belong to any at all; Shayla—“

She straightened in her seat, craned her head over her shoulder to give Phalomir a knowing look, then returned her focus on her adept.

“Remember as well that this one could come from any time period. Witness our companion here—“

Again she trailed, this time to gesture toward the Sith Lord who remained in silence, apparently contemplating on what Shayla had said.

“Try to remember clearly. Did this one bear the mark of the Ruling Clan? Did he bear the Tattoo of Entitlement to that clan? And—and—“

Now an uncomfortable look crossed her face, and she bit her lip. Her mouth dropped open and worked non-speaking for a moment, as if she couldn’t quite determine exactly how to say what she wished. At length she pressed her lips together, then simply blurted out:

“The one we are dealing with is not only a Master at Deception, but of time, as I said. Try to remember what this mysterious visitor in your dreams looked like; could he perhaps, if not being Lord Aelvedaar himself, have been his son?”

She fell silent at that, sending another worried gaze toward Phalomir before returning her eyes to Shayla once again. Somewhere behind her came a muted snort, and the gentle clink of glass.

"It is the tatoo of Entitlement," she stated in a whisper, her eyes still vague as her recollection grew ever the slightest. "And the Sith...

...he has twin horns spiraling from each side of his head..."

Shayla trailed and frowned as her own growing description of this mystery Sith seemed remiscent of yet another one she knew...

...one who bore the Tattoo of Entitlement to the Sorceror's Clan.

"The Sith could very well be Lord Aelvedaar's son," Shayla stated aloud then, her frown only growing, "And after all, I don't think Aelvedaar ever truly liked me being around..."

She trailed again as memories came into focus, memories of never being quite certain whether he felt she fit in as Graysith's adept, memories of him stripping her All-usage more than once, memories of him refusing to help her unborn son in any way back when Loban Kenobi had blasted him with unseen evil...

"...but even if the Sith in my vision is Aeylmaar, that's only the beginning of the puzzles which need to be solved in order to ascertain if this has any link to things which are going on now. Is this vision real or is it a ruse? And if it is real...

...just what may have been the purpose of the visit that day...

...and was that purpose achieved?"

She quieted completely at that, shivering a bit as this unknown grew more and more troubling...

But not now.

Her head jerked over her shoulder then as she shifted in her seat, now pinning those brilliant violet eyes upon Phalomir with a hard look. One which asked a million unvoiced questions, but questions seeking answers nevertheless.

... analytical. No matter what she tried, she just couldn't get a clear enough image of that Sith...

...and that realization brought back something which she had spoken to Phalomir not so long ago, before Graysith had entered the ship. And Shayla was keenly aware that time was pressing...

...and that it could be quite some time before she could make out the Sith beckoning to her clearly. She turned to Graysith, whose eyes were yet boring into Phalomir's. Suddenly she felt an urgency to know the truth, not only for herself but for reasons of the mission at hand.

"This is something with which you need assistance in ascertaining?" she asked quietly.

"Did you not meet Ayelmaar upon your arrival at Khar Delba, when we all traveled there after the Sith had been brought back into glorious life?

"Indeed, I thought you had...

"...or is it that you cannot discern what is within your own memories?"

Once again she trailed, this time to cast an increasingly worried look at Phalomir. For if this unknown could so muddle the mind of a Force user, what could he do if given the opportunity to wreak his havoc upon the known populations of the Galaxy?

If indeed that was his long-term intention.

She trailed, her eyes once more turning vague as she searched into her heart of hearts, using Force-intuition to seek out any warning flags concerning the authenticity of the memory.

There were none.

"...it's real...

The soul… could it transcend timelines? Was he damned to non-existence now that he had unnaturally traversed the bounds of time? Would S’slan allow him entry into the afterworld?

Father had spiral horns…

Still staring into the Dark Lady’s eyes, he raised the bottle of brandy and drank deeply from it. He longed for the soothing effects the strong liquor would bring, but knew it would not come no matter how deeply he imbibed.

But father was not of that name…

He placed the cork back upon bottle and let it fall from his hand. It dropped upon floor with small clunk and rolled backwards under the seat. It came to rest at the feet of Jason Lancaster, who smiled serendipitously.

But his father was…

“My lady,” Phalomir croaked, his voice sounding weary and course. “There is something I must tell you…”

He let the words percolate in his mind for a moment. No matter how he tried to arrange them, they sounded the same.

“This Aeylmaar… may have been a relative…”

She was the Chosen One of Lord Aelvedaar… SHE Hadn’t he told her that, once seemingly eons ago? Hadn’t he promised… then to revoke, to further beguile and betray them all.

And for what?

Suddenly, despite all the plots and schemes and insidious and careful laying of plans, the control of a small empire didn’t seem quite the answer to the shadow she felt was looming over them all. Her thoughts went to Thoran, the mysterious insinuations and innuendoes put forth by the one he called Master, and what Lord Phalomir had revealed about his past connections, the mention of coming darkness, of others…

Others. That ship, that terrible, awful ship, fa,r far away in the black velvet which filled the space between galaxies; how well she remembered it. Ripping through the fabric of spacetime, there to save a young girl and a tiny infant from--

Her eyes widened more, fear not for herself, but suddenly for all the known populations flung throughout the Galaxy, filling them, fever-bright.

“Our enemy is more formidable than it would appear, and I fear his final designs are nothing less than the complete control of the Galaxy.”

The words invoked the silence of the tomb, a silence that she finally broke with first a great and shuddering exhalation of breath…

…followed by a quick but carefully detailed explanation of what facts she knew:

The coming of the Vong.

Her sudden conviction that Aelvedaar was connected to them somehow, perhaps through Ayelmaar…

…as well as her solid belief in what he was planning to do.

A great pang ripped through her heart then; she forced it down and away with a gulp.

If only she hadn’t brought Aelvedaar forth from his death, that day three years ago in the bowels of Darth Wicked’s home in the Temple on Khar Delba.

The Vong. The ones who had killed her parents...

She shuddered involuntarily. Although she was too young at the time to remember the sordid details of the Yuuzhan Vong and their ruthless attacks on the galaxy for herself, she definitely had a personal perspective on the matter. Far too personal.

"We have to stop them," she whispered as a chill ripped through her, icing the blood in her veins. "They'll destroy us. They'll destroy us all...

Phalomir thought back into his memories, suddenly wishing for the bottle he had dropped.

“The Others… They came at a time when we were not prepared. I failed.”

He looked about him, the stares from the others boring into him. He returned focus upon Jharmeen. His eyes locked with hers, and his voice lapsed into a quiet, course whisper.

To-- them?

Graysith straightened in her seat, blinking as a sudden thought struck her.

“Phal- Lord Phalomir,” she began, trying her best to keep a steadiness in her voice although that was in direct opposition to the growing wildness of her rapidly beating heart. She grunted a bit, concentrating on regaining her composure; at length she settled in the seat, running her hands over her cloak as if to smooth away non-existent wrinkles.

“How is it that you could lose me, when—“

She paused, stared more deeply into his eyes, read the pain there, forced away another uprushing pang of—

Of what. Hurt for his sake? Guilt for what she would say?

Something other…?

Another miniscule wrinkle flattened beneath her touch, and she continued on as if she had only paused for speculation.

“How is it that you could lose me, when indeed you do not… have me.”

Not as you would wish, at least—

She went on, her expression unruffled, her demeanor apparently calm, her heart pounding like storm surf in her breast, her hands iced.

“If this is not so, then perhaps the coming events of which you speak shall not occur either. Perhaps there will be no failure, not here, not now. For are we not forewarned? Is this not being forearmed?”

Phalomir felt a stab within his chest.

For when one has an undying love, it tends to… not die…

“You may be correct,” he said, straightening. “Thinking back on something Thoran told me, apparently I was sent here to cause the death of someone and then at the right moment die myself. I failed. Whatever events my death was to bring about shall not occur, at least not in the way the Master anticipated.”

He leaned back in the seat and looked to the bulkhead above him.

“One of the last things I remember from my previous… existence… was the Vong invasion. The Sith were being decimated. I was to meet with their commander to discuss terms, but I never made it. I do not know why… what was his name?”

Phalomir struggled for the word, but it stayed just past his grasp.

So, at least in his particular future and past, the Vong had killed Graysith...

She shuddered as the thought brought both despair and anger.

...but had they not already nearly lost Graysith to the Yuuzhan Vong once before...?

Shayla bit her lip, frowning. Indeed they had, only she had stepped in as Graysith's replacement. Shayla could recall how she was surprised that they had gotten away with this so flawlessly. In fact, the Yuuzhan Vong never once discovered the switch...

...instead there was only that evil creature, the one who impersonated Darth Wicked. Shayla frowned even further at this.

Aelvedaar had quite easily switched her for Graysith...

...and he was supposed to have immediately retrieved her after the switch. Only...

...he hadn't. And he hadn't even done so when that evil creature came to her. Why...

...why had it all been so flawless until that moment? Why had she been left behind for any amount of time...

...unless, perhaps, there was some relationship between Aelvedaar and the Vong as Graysith had mentioned. And indeed, how had Lord Aelvedaar known the Vong well enough to find them the many lightyears away that they had to have been...

Shayla jerked herself into reality, momentarily glancing to the navboard to ascertain that they would be arriving at their destination shortly. Then she turned to Graysith and the others, gathering her wits about herself enough to voice her thoughts aloud...

...all of them.

That’s not what you believed on Dagobah, is it now….

She shook away the non sequiteur and let her thoughts rove on a little bit longer, now recalling with crystal clarity her soaring wonder and joy when she had suddenly found herself back with her Sire, only to find it had been at Shayla’s expense.

Her throat tightened, then she swallowed again before finally speaking aloud.

“The Yuuzhan Vong are on their way to this galaxy,” she admitted aloud what all present had by now deduced, or had already known.

“There is a—a dark one who is with them, one as dark as any Darth—“

Oh my Dark Heart, I pray you have finally found peace….

“—but he is not one I have ever known. I did not catch his name, but I met him when… during my brief visit to their ship.”

Unable to help it, she winced, and wrapped her arms around herself for a moment. Then she gathered her composure and continued.

“This one was humanoid, with skin like snow and hair of silver, and his eyes were of chrome and electric blue. He was not Vong, but I had the clear impression that he had them utterly submissive to him, which says a lot for his strength and powers. I was with him once….”

Another pause, an even heavier swallow.

“…and I willed myself to die before I would have to face him again. If this is the one whom you were to meet, Lord Phalomir, then you are lucky indeed to have missed him. For I have the distinct impression that all those who do run across his path, die.”

Now she turned her eyes to Shayla.

“We were incredibly lucky,” she whispered. “And you don’t know how sorry I am that we couldn’t get to you as quickly as we would have liked—“

Realizing what she had just said, she quickly stopped, biting her lip.

“As quickly as I would have liked,” she amended, thinking back to that far-away day.

A sudden toss of her head and her rising trepidations were sent flying. Before their eyes, she transformed from the vulnerable prize of Abaddonis and back to the Dark Lady of the Warrior clan.

“Shayla, you raise a legitimate point,” she allowed. “With all that has been revealed and then deduced from the information we have gleaned, I cannot help but believe that Thoran’s master, the mystery Sith of your visions, is indeed Lord Aelvedaar’s Chosen Son. I may be incorrect in this, but—“

It was Phalomir’s turn to be the recipient of her gaze.

“Tell us everything you know, all of it,” she commanded, somehow making herself larger and more regal in the utterance of that request.

“We need to make a plan of—of attack, if need be; we need to clarify what we are to do after we rescue Galen and retrieve Shayla’s husband and your friend.”

...and nervously at that. Then they flicked down to the bottle of brandy which Phalomir had dropped. Though he was trying to avoid the desire to drink, this sudden news was making it rather difficult. Looking up from the dropped bottle then, he spoke up.

"Hold it, hold it..." he started out, an obvious edge of anxiousness filling his voice, "If Lord Aelvedaar had ties with the Vong...

...then why the kriffing hell would he have ever needed to hold an alliance with anyone from Eagle Enterprises?"

He fell silent, one damning answer presenting itself.

By making an alliance with EE, Aelvedaar had Galen right in his hands since he was able to convince Terrin that his desire was to protect her from Roan. After all, Galen trusted Terrin. And if Terrin, as careful and distrusting a guy as he was, could be convinced that the Sith were going to protect her...

...Aelvedaar had to have known she would be more likely to believe it. But then, with his powers Aelvedaar could have had Galen easily enough without ever convincing Terrin of anything...

...or could he have?

Jasyn voiced as much aloud with an entirely disturbed frown on his features. Then he added, "Could Aelvedaar have been plotting to use Galen for something himself...

...something of which none of us were aware...

...or was he really just keeping her hidden away so that Roan couldn't get to her? I know it's always been Roan who has been after her...

...but it appears now that Aelvedaar's M.O. is to use with convincing deceit, so I have to wonder just what he might have truly been up to..."

Jasyn trailed, glancing down to the brandy bottle once more. With all the things that were suddenly cropping up as possibilities, it was looking more and more inviting...

“My father was Aeylyn, Dark Lord of the Sorcerers. His father before him was Aeylmaar—my grandfather. I never met him; he had disappeared long before I was of an age to know. I was told that my grandfather vanished shortly after my birth, and my father ascended to the Dark Lordship.”

Phalomir strained to remember more. He recalled the store of information that he had purposefully hidden from himself, and felt sure that he was pulling from that area now.

“My father was cruel, as cruel as Lord Aeylmaar before him. But he built a powerful legacy for the sorcerers. But he relied too heavily on the All and not enough on Sith magick. This must have led to some sort of imbalance in the triad, and when I was old enough to begin my own apprenticeship into Sith government, I learned of dark dealings with beings and races. The triad was in dire straights. It was then I was taken to the Dark Canyon…”

A memory flashed into his mind even as the shudders of fear began. He quickly composed himself and sat forward.

“It was once a beautiful valley, I was told. A place of great importance to the Sith. I do not know what happened.”

He leaned forward and rested his head in his hands, his elbows upon his knees.

“I was made Dark Lord of the Sorcerers at an early age. There was none other to take the position, and none who wanted it. I recall hunting down the weak links, rooting out the traitors to the Sith, and soon the houses of many powerful nobles had fallen. The triad was rebuilt with trustworthy, dedicated Dark Lords, and it was decided then that the Sith would re-establish its ties with the galaxy. It was then I met y-- it was then I met the human woman I would ask to share my life.”

He again allowed his eyes to close.

“Many years of peace and prosperity followed. The Sith were strong, I had re-introduced the power of Sith magick, and the triad was solid. Then we were approached by a race… a powerful race… the triad was to meet… I could not attend, and the others were… it was a ruse, they were killed. The Vong, they approached us in friendship and then invaded. In an emergency, the councils moved to establish me as the Dark Lord of the triad. I… it was a mistake, I am sure. I can not recall how this was done, but I am certain it involved the Dark Canyon, and the… the valley?”

He opened his eyes and looked directly into Jharmeen’s.

“We tried to fight them. But even with Sith magick, we could not hold them. Thinking of it now, for it was inconceivable then, they must have use of the All behind them somehow. The Sith fleet was ruined, and I was to meet with Abadonnis – yes, that was his name – WE were to meet with him, for you would not leave my side. It is difficult to remember, but our shuttle was attacked and boarded…”

A flash of memory ripped through Phalomir, followed by a sharp pain through his midsection. He struggled to speak, but his voice was frozen. He grasped desperately at the link he shared with the Dark Lady, sending the visions before him to her.

He looks down at the shining, bloody spike protruding from his chest. He lockes his hands around it, trying to find the strength to pry himself from it. He looks to his Lady, struggling in the arms of the strange being, horror engraved on her face. A voice from behind hisses into his ear. “And now, at last, I have her.” Darkness. Quiet. As memory and thought fade, another voice. “But you, my son, have another purpose.”

Phalomir’s eyes widened then rolled backwards, flashing a bright white against the red of his face. He slumped backwards into his seat, motionless.

Some strangeness was afoot. And the only way to find out...

Agonizing...

Graysith gasped to both the physical as well as visual impact of that terrible sight, one hand lancing out to stab hold of the navigation board, the other flailing to find purchase somewhere, anywhere.

This was awful, unbearable, there was something in that spike, some vile poison….

Gobbets of saliva drooled unstoppable from her mouth, her muscles clenched and cramped in synch with her stomach, lava boiled her blood and fried her mucus membranes, heat flooded through her as would an electric current given in execution of some common criminal. Then that blazing pain dissolved in incandescent fear as a somehow familiar voice hissed from the blackness behind her,

”And now, at last, I have her…”

“No.”

The whimper came out of her mouth upon cat’s feet, barely rippling the air in its making. Her flailing hands came into contact with something, she didn’t know what; her fingers closed convulsively and dug in for dear life, seeking to hang on to that apparent lifeline to another, better, reality.

She gasped again, and this time managed to swallow; on the heels of that swallow came rapid little flicks of her tongue, as it reached out, seeking to transfer dripping moisture to her suddenly dry lips. Slowly her head lifted, and eyes which felt like hot stones in her head once more beheld that terrible, terrible scene.

”Oh my husband, you cannot die….”

From somewhere very far away a little bit of logic tried to rear up and point out the incongruity of that statement, but was ignored. The pain was too great, too encompassing, too unendurable.

She let out another nondescript little cry then, letting go of whatever it was she was grasping to now grasp either side of her head, all awareness of the others completely overwhelmed by what was travelling across the link still maintained with the Phalomir.

...anything, for support. Her hand fell clammy and cold upon Shayla's arm in a death's grip, and Shayla went to her knees beside Graysith. Even as she stretched out into her sister's mind a horrible scene played itself out in her mind's eye.

"And now, at last, I have her..."

Shayla squeezed her eyes closed at this, shaking her head in utter refusal to let anything of the sort happen. For well did she know the origin of the spike...

No, no, it would not happen again to another person that she loved. She would not lose another person to them. No.

Stretching out with the Force strength which had been bestowed upon her then, Shayla laid a hand atop Graysith's fevered brow, unaware that an alarmed Matt Stanza had come from behind to support the Dark Lady while Jasyn Lancaster went about seeing if he could revive Phalomir in his own subtle manner. All else mattered not. Pouring all the comfort and Force-healing into Graysith that she could, Shayla remained unmoving, eyes still closed, unwilling to leave Graysith's side.

And indeed, how could this strangeness be reality, and how could a vision cause such pain and agony?

He did not have her. No...

Springing to his feet, he turned to Matt, who was rushing to the fallen Graysith with a shocked Shayla by her side. Jasyn frowned darkly, surveying the scene as if trying to figure out just what to do...

...when his eyes fell upon the slightly stirring Phalomir.

Hey, maybe he knows what the kriffing hell is going on here...

With no more thought than that, Jasyn went over and simply shook the Dark Lord in his seat, trying to bring him completely back into reality.

“You shall not have her,” Phalomir growled through clenched teeth. “Kill me as many times as you wish, you shall not have her.”

Jasyn gagged as his air supply was cut. Phalomir raised his arm, lifting Jasyn off the floor.

“My legacy lies elsewhere, father,” he growled out. “Do not use me to chase your ghosts…”

A whimper escaped Jasyn’s lips. Awareness slowly came back into Phalomir’s eyes, and he released his hold upon Jasyn, who fell on his knees into a coughing fit. Phalomir’s frantic eyes moved from the recovering Jasyn to the form of Jharmeen, who sat motionless next to Shayla and Matt.

He quickly crawled to the Dark Lady and cradled her in his arms, brushing Matt away gently. He cut a look to Matt and Shayla in apology, then returned focus upon Jharmeen. Concern overtook his face, and he struggled briefly for a solution. He closed his eyes, held her head closely to his own, and reached inwardly for the link he still held with her, sending his own conscienceness along that line.

Hear me, find me. Come with me, my lady, rejoin me in life...

Kriffing hell. A guy tries to help another one and gets himself strangled half to death.

For a few moments longer he remained on his knees, his hands still massaging his throat. About that time his eyes fell on the brandy bottle which Phalomir had dropped...

...and he couldn't resist the urge any longer.

Hey, maybe that'll make your throat feel better. Sure as kriffing hell couldn't make it feel any worse, a shoulder-devil pointed out.

Reaching out with one hand at that thought, Jasyn gripped the brandy bottle, turning it bottom-up as he let a good amount of the liquid roll down his throat, warming it. Turning the bottle right-side up again at that, Jasyn took a deep breath...

...and coughed and sputtered even more.

Awww, hell...

Falling against the bulkhead of the ship, Jasyn shook his head, stil coughing. He gave the brandy bottle one final upturn, this time more slowly and delibrately. Lowering it once again then, he took a much more careful breath and was thankful to discover that he was finally able to do so with out coughing quite so much. He gave the half-empty brandy bottle one final longing look...

...and abandoned it on the floor altogether, crawling over to where Matt was standing, his eyes falling upon the strange scene before them and darkening.

Whatever the hell was going on, he sure hoped it wasn't indicative of how this entire trip was going to progress...

Slowly, softly, there came a quiet creeping, like a mountain stream’s cool waters that gurgle merrily over its rocky bed. Those cool waters brought surcease to the fires raging upon that inner battlefield; bit by bit they lessened, shrank, altered in color, becoming less of a brilliant white and more of a dull orange, finally dwindling down through the reds of lesser fury and into the cindery black of death.

Another gasp ripped from Graysith’s lips, the Glyph ravening upward and outward even as the blaze within her cooled beneath Shayla’s ministrations as it stretched outward for sustenance to further strengthen her soul.

It caught onto something, wrapped about it with the determination of a dianoga capturing its prey, and hung on for dear life, pulling that something inward with inexorable insistence. The Dark Lady needed sustenance, the All would provide it.

Warmth flooded her then, a different kind of warmth. This was not the raging inferno of poisoned and dying flesh, bur rather the soft whisper of sunlight against one’s cheek. As if a caress, it tickled her heart, leaped joyfully along the All-link, carrying upon its back something… something…

Something endearing. Something welcomed. Something missing returned.

Something.

Slowly her eyes fluttered, opened, the violet in them hazed by the experience. She blinked them again, blearily, and struggled a bit trying to find balance with reality, to bring that reality into focus.

Dark haziness swirled about her like chocolate, whirling and coalescing and lightening and altering and finally condensing into a brilliant and verdant green something.

Two brilliant and verdant green somethings…

Recinis-? No….

He closed his eyes again, and pressed his cheek against hers.

“And nothing shall take you away from me again.”

No.

The feelings.

--carried her up psychical anticline and down emotional syncline, bearing her upon a fierce whirlwind which simultaneously exploded from her in a fiery and sudden yet almost shy wonder that she was feeling what she was feeling, experiencing what she was, nearly stunned that this should descend upon her so quickly, so unexpectedly.

It was as if a floodgate within had burst asunder.

Every bit of love she ever had for any man relit the fires that had burned her earlier, filling her now with even greater heat.

Her dear, dear Dark Heart… who had in his insanity betrayed her, hurt her; out of that great flaming love had risen a phoenix of killing strength.

Lord Roan—oh yes, admit it in your wisdom, oh Chosen One; he too was the recipient, you loved him, did you not? You loved him with innocent deceit, and he too proved to be just as deceitful.

Recinis—the name brings a rush of pain now, does it not? What were you thinking, All-Bearer? Did you really believe that such a thing could be as tenderly plucked as one does a t’plkk fruit? As easily tossed aside as the bloodied remnants of the tiny lives you have yourself devoured? His love for you true… until challenged; how quickly did that undying love really die, if it ever truly existed.

What feel you now, Dark Lady of the Sith?

What feel you now, Jharmeen?

With a little gasp Graysith pulled her mouth from Phalomir’s, pulled her head back just the tiniest so her freed lips could freely move. Her hands, planted upon his broad chest to push him back, stopped.

Her mouth continued to work soundlessly, her push lessened bit by bit, altered altogether as her hands found themselves scrabbling about his back, digging into the richness of his robes, hugging him fiercely to her.

”I- I cannot bear to lose another love, don’t let me love you,” she whispered into the side of his cheek that no one else would hear, tears springing into her eyes as she gripped him with all her light strength.

He gripped her back lightly but firmly, allowing his own tears to mingle with hers.

Somewhere within, the final, fleeting feelings of loves won and lost, of vows defiantly, if unconsciously, made, all coiled together like a snake, reared up and ready to strike.

Somewhere within, images of eyes, eyes warm with emotion, cold with cunning, shark’s-eye dead with carefully presented truths, all danced a tarantella, coaxing her, teasing her, bidding her remember, to be strong, a Dark Lady of the Sith should be strong…

Somewhere within a choice was made.

As if it was the most natural thing in the world to be occurring on the floor of the bridge of a warship of the Sith in the sight of both friend and ally, Graysith turned her head back to look deeply into Phalomir’s eyes. Then her arms found themselves wrapping about his shoulders, his neck, her hands reaching up to run lightly along his horns as she drew him back to her and returned his kiss with a fervor born of nothing other than…

Truth, plain and simple.

And acceptance.

And yearning.

It was quite some time before her mind managed to pull away from the clouds into which it seemed to have plunged, to recall the words he had spoken of his lineage and the future which yet lay ahead.

Or could it?

Now she shuddered, sudden realization breaking through her growing love.

He had her now, did he not?

And did that now mean he would die?

She blinked, focused deep within his eyes, seeking the answer to that unspoken question, then slowly, as if being pulled against her will, turned her head to bring the others back into her personal realm of reality.

She was surprised to find the others in nearly the same stance they had been in earlier, seen but blurredly, when she was writhing in the throes of that awful vision. Mere moments only had passed, she realized with a sudden start, and not the eternity which had just seconds ago expanded all about her and the Sith Lord.

She turned back to Phalomir, gazed up into his suddenly oh-so very dear face. Reached out a hand once more to trace about the tattoo upon his forehead.

“And—where do we go from here, my Lord?” she asked him quietly enough, letting him be the one to bring her to her feet and the two of them back into the essence of their little group.

“We go where life will take us, my lady,” he said quietly. “But we go there forearmed.”

He held a hand to her cheek and gently caressed the soft skin. Unspoken words shown in his eyes, the joy and concern focused into emerald points which betrayed the Dark Lord’s yearning to draw her near. With an effort he found his voice again.

“We have much to do, and it begins at the canyon. We shall locate your sister and bring her into our care.”

He turned his head to Shayla.

Where in Hell’s Seven Circles am I?

Around me, blackness.

Nothingness.

Otherness.

Wha--?

Okay, now this is getting to be a bit much, really it is, honest to Khaandon but someone has a bantha-pile’s idea of a bad joke, and to tell the truth I’m getting a touch wee on the cranky side that it’s always being played on me.

Oh I suppose I ought to give this mystery someone credit for his abilities; cripes, if I had that kind of cunning and wherewithal I’d be out of the frying pan, clear past the fire, and sitting pretty in the fat of the land now, wouldn’t I be? I’d be happy somewhere, with Terrin, with little Darra; we’d be happy raising our daughter in our happy little house back on Daros IV; he wouldn’t have to be hot-footing all over hell and gone any longer, would he, he owns the company now, doesn’t he? So all we’d need to do is just be happy here together, just us three, and with dad coming to visit every weekend and take us all to Fireplay Falls, yessir that’s where I’d be if I had that kind of cunning.

But nope. Sad to say, guess I don’t. I’m lucky as it is to have ‘nuff hutzpah to get myself out of all the pitfalls and dark spots between rocks and hard places that I’ve managed to fall into way too many times over these past years. Not that I really mind it all, no indeed. For I wouldn’t have met Sorben, or Terrin; I wouldn’t have my little Darra—

Oh my little Darra! Where are you? What is this place? Where am I?

--I wouldn’t have met and made all the friends I have, and played what small part I managed to play in relieving this sorry universe of even sorrier blights upon it. So I guess that’s all worth a little more strangeness, a little more weirdness along the lines of, “Oh no. Here we go again.”

So, Galen ol’ kiddo, ol’ rock, you ol’ dog you, time now to just hunker down around your own brain cells and remember.

I froze as images came whirling in from absolutely nowhere: a blurring, pinwheeling kaleidoscope of quiet camp set upon that overlook, of the sound of something crying in the night, of rising to see what the noise was all about, rubbing my eyes, rubbing them again, now blinking, now widening, wider, ever wider, to match the square hole in my face which widens and strains and yearns to yell a warning of despair….

He was there.

He.

Him.

Oh dear Khaandon, no-o-oo….

Now madness ensues, pure and simple. Blurs rush by, coldness strikes my face, from a distance comes the sound of rock and scree slipping and scrabbling and sliding and falling and hurting in the night, no wait, that is me, it’s my feet, they are what is making that noise because I’m running, I’m running, in sheer animal panic I’m running and behind me I hear the great and awful bellowing laughter, the pure evil sliding around in it like decayed matter in a cesspool and dear Khaandon is he following me? Is he after me? I hear a cry of fear and a wet slurping sound and there is another terrible noise I do not want to hear, is this real? Is this happening? Is it a dream?

I blink again, and take another cautious look around.

No more a dream than this stark reality around me.

Stark, terrifyingly black, and horribly familiar reality.

I shudder again, now casting increasingly wild looks about me, seeking an egress, finding none.

I have been here before.

He has been here before.

“Rhua?” I question cautiously, whimpering into that awful, terrible nothing.

No answer.

I sink to my haunches, wrap my arms about my legs.

Isn’t this where you came in, Galen Jhin’Dar Danner?

I shake my head, and lay my cheek against my knee. Truly, I didn’t know the answer.

((OOC: Follow Galen now to Behind the Black River in the "Jedi/Sith" forums, thank you.))

Galen’s scream sliced through the quiet night, opening his ears and his eyes and the doorway from sleep and dreams into the coldness of the sand-begotten desert.

He blinked, sat up, cast a fast look around with his large and limpid eyes, cocked his head.

From somewhere below there came the diminishing sounds of rock hitting rock, of scrabbling and grunts and the fading sound of wild breathing.

He sprang to his feet, and soon was upon the lip of the overlook, straining to see down into the inkiness within the inner gorge. Lit by the gibbous moons above, the rock took on a surreal blue color, banded with purple, shot through with charcoal…

Poised over black.

And from somewhere amidst those monotones came sounds that the scientist realized could be produced by no one or nothing other than his travelling companion.

“Galen?” he called down into the ominous depths.

Only the further clatter of sound came to his ears.

It stopped. Quiet reigned, interspersed with occasional clinks of settling rock.

Then, a piercing scream ripped into his ears.

Followed by the silence of the tomb.

He blinked, his weapon in his hand as if by magick. “Galen?” he called again, a bit louder, straining to see.

No answer.

He sighed, shivered, then straightened. Then after brushing off the bits of sand imbedded in his skin from where he had lain in sleep, he tightened his grip on his weapon and carefully began picking his way toward that chilling nothingness which yet roiled and writhed like a living nightmare in the bowels of this canyon from hell.

...only to then be unterrupted by the insistent noise of a green sigil which was announcing imminent reentry into realspace.

"We'll be reverting in two standard minutes," she then spoke up, "Everyone better get strapped in while we approach."

That said, Shayla resumed her seat at the the pilot's station. Then she turned directly to Graysith, sending a meaningful look into her eyes as she continued. "Shall we land near the canyon and take it from there...

...or do you have plans for another approach?"

“I don’t understand, Shayla,” Graysith stated as she peered over the young woman’s shoulder to decipher the meaning behind the flashing sigils and glyphs on the control panel. “We haven’t traveled long enough to have reached the Korriban system; I’m certain I keyed in the correct coordinates…”

Frowning more, she was in the act of reaching for the navigation log to check her input codes when the warship gave a strange little shudder, somehow seemed to yank sidewards through space, and with a jerk literally dropped away from the starstreaks though which it had been speeding. The rough motion sent Graysith careening into Shayla, who fell back against the pilot’s seat with the red-haired woman sprawled out on top of her. For a short moment they remained entangled thus, violet eyes meeting oceanic ones; then the Dark Lady pushed herself upright once again and quickly aided Shayla to her feet.

Both immediately turned to the controls… and then Graysith let out a gasp, pointing to the forward viewscreen. There, resplendent in all its nuclear fury, blazed a giant of a star, a star in the process of dying, a ballooned red giant that even as they watched seemed to swell a bit before lapsing back to its original state.

Graysith shook her head.

“This is not the correct system, Shayla,” she whispered. “Korriban and Koris’ian orbit a blue sun, not a red one,” she said worriedly. “Somehow, we seem to have gone off-course; unless I did not key in the correct coordinates, which I swear to S’slan I did…”

Her words were nipped in the bud as the strident ringing of a warning klaxon burst onto the bridge. She frowned again, looked to the navigation board, then whipped her face up to stare imminent death directly in its bloated and reddened eye.

“We are being flooded by neutrinos,” she began, only to be brought to a halt as her entire universe exploded in an eruption of pure white….

"Supernova explosion!" she cried out in horror. "We've gotta get out of here...

...and fast!"

Saying that, her hands flew to the navboard as she began to plot a course anywhere but where they were. After all, they could get back on course after they got the Hell out of this predicament...

...but indeed, how did they get into it in the first place? Graysith had already said she was certain she'd plotted the right course to Korriban, and an exploding supernova wouldn't pull them out of hyperspace since its gravity had already been taken into account by the nav-brain of the warship.

So then, how did they get knocked out of hyperspace when their course had been accurately plotted and set? And right on top of an exploding supernova...

...an exploding supernova which conveniently exploded right as they were pulled out of hyperspace...

Shayla's eyes slitted and darkened measurably.

Foul play.

And that very conclusion was underscored by yet another damning fact. They weren't going anywhere.

"I can't plot a course!" Shayla growled, then adding her own thoughts as to just how they might have been yanked out of hyperspace right on top of an exploding supernova. "Someone is playing a dirty game," she said. "It's just entirely too convenient that we have come out of hyperspace right on top of a damn exploding star. Shayla turned momentarily to glance at Graysith before she continued, "And there's only one I can think of who would have the knowledge and capabilities to set us up this way."

Saying this, Shayla's eyes jerked back to the navboard. Once more her fingers played about it hurriedly, for she knew the urgency of the situation at hand. "Everyone make sure you're strapped in tight, we're about to get slammed, any moment now. Brace for im--"

Shayla's warning was cut short with a somewhat distorted explicative even as the universe turned topsy-turvy. "Kriffing HEEE---!!!"

She yanked her eyes up to the screen even as the outfringes of the supernova began impacting the hull of the ship…

…and then forced herself into the best semblance of calm that she could. Closing her eyes, she rolled back her head, and reached out with her talents, ignoring the fact that it was becoming more difficult by the nanosecond to remain on her feet, let alone upright upon them. The Glyph added its radiant energies to those displayed upon the screen as, with a great and final sort of internal lunge, Graysith reached out with the All, right into the very maw of the ravening beast without…

The ship settled abruptly into normalcy. Graysith opened her eyes, letting the Glyph die down in inverse proportion to her wildly beating heart, which after a few moments more, moments in which she realized they were all yet alive, finally began to slow in turn.

“I have created a chronotic shield about us,” she whispered, albeit a bit hoarsely. “It should protect us from the radiation of that explosion…”

Her words died on her lips then as, with a sigh of fatigue she let herself drop into the nearest seat, laying her head back and closing her eyes as the after-effects of her efforts began to hit her.

...he looked down to his other hand, finding out that he was in fact gripping a nice-enough looking bottle of Sith brandy.

Hey, no use in letting a good thing go to waste...

Popping the top which he had replaced earlier, Jasyn took a good drink of the liquor.

"Just when you think things can't get any worse," he growled under his breath but still where everyone in the ship could hear. Then he finally looked up, letting the hand which he had been holding his head with drop to the brandy bottle and join its mate. "I'm sure everyone else has already come to the same conclusion...

...but I'll be damned if we're not somehow being watched right now."

He glanced to Shayla. "And if you're right about someone knocking us out of hyperspace purposefully on top of that supernova...

...which I don't doubt...

...then it would appear we're getting in his way a little too much. So..."

He trailed a moment, taking another swig of brandy, his eyes then focusing on no one in particular. "What the kriffing hell do we do now...?"

Another sip of brandy, followed shortly thereafter by another explecative. "The gods be damned..."

“Shayla,” he called out, “can you identify our location?”

He moved with surprising agility and positioned himself next to Jharmeen. He took her hand in his and placed his other hand gently upon her forehead.

“The shield is self-sustaining once implemented,” she replied, a stronger note now coming into her voice. “It will remain about us until I drop it.”

She sighed again, and placed her free hand behind herself to boost herself upright. The motion pushed her closer to the Sith Lord, who remained where he was, his hand still on her face.

She moved her hand from his grasp to lay it atop the one yet caressing her.

“Implementing such a shield saps me for a little bit,” she admitted with another smile. “But my strength is soon regained. And please, worry not for my sake in this regard; the safety of all takes much greater precedence than my physical well-being.”

She gave his hand a little squeeze then as, finally, she sat upright, feeling stronger and stronger by the moment. Then her smile lessened a degree or so.

"I would not expect that Shayla would be able to ascertain our current position," she revealed, much to Jasyn's apparent consternation. She turned her head to the man and nodded, the smile flickering a bit as she watched him take another hearty swig of brandy.

"Nothing can move through a chronotic shield, neither matter or energy. Thus we are safe from the radiation of the supernovae, but we cannot see out from our protected spot."

She leaned back against the seat again.

"We'll have to deduce when conditions are clear enough that the normal abilities of this ship will be able to withstand my dropping the shield."

“I- I do not believe so,” she finally allowed, drawing in a deep breath. “I believe this shield protects us from any type of energy or material impact, at least in our universe. At least I certainly hope so.

“For if not—“

She trailed, pursing her lips a little before she finished with,

“For if not, then there is no place within this entire universe where we might be safe from the prying eyes and ears and abilities of the Dark Lord of the Sorcerers.”

Again she paused but this time to simply think, to try to remember to the best of her knowledge every instance when and where such a shield had been erected, and by whom, and against what. Finally she nodded, albeit somewhat slowly, as if she hadn’t quite convinced herself.

“I cannot recall a time when Sith magicks were actively used against a chronotic shield, but there have been a very few instances – at least, circumstances pointed to such things – when a- an inter-dimensional slippage of sorts did manage to… bypass the protection of the shield, or at least appeared to do so.”

Her voice firmed, grew louder, as if she was an instructor giving a lesson.

“Chronotic shields work with relative respect to our own universe, which we perceive in four dimensions: three spatial ones, and one of linear time. They send any energies which impact their boundaries forward and backward along the time line; any matter is converted into its equivalent energies and likewise sent forward and backward along the timeline, to harmlessly dissipate in either direction. But—“

Another quick pause to wet her suddenly dry lips.

“I have the ability,” he said, “through innate magick, to let my consciousness… wander. It was a mystery to me when I first discovered it, but it has proven useful in recent times. The physical world seems to have no influence upon me in this state, and I had thought perhaps I could ‘wander’ outside the ship to ascertain our status and position.”

Phalomir bit lightly on his upper lip and allowed his eyes to fall to the floor.

"I suggest that you do not try. There ought to be some far easier method in determining the extent of a supernova explosion than what you suggest."

She turned to face him, her face placid, but the message in her eyes ringing loud and clear.

"I have only just found you; I do not wish to risk losing you."

...so to be safe, I'd say we should sit tight about two and a half to three days."

She quieted at that, glancing back to a scowling Jasyn Lancaster. She could almost literally hear his thoughts on all this just by the look on his face...

"Two and a half to three damn days?!" he growled. "That's the best we can do? Come on, guys...

...you gotta know Aelvedaar did this to keep us from spoiling his plans, which he must obviously have in motion right now. If we just sit here...

...he wins. And who the hell knows what might happen when three days is up? Not that I'm thrilled with taking risks...

...but there are times when reasons for taking the risks outway reasons for playing it safe. Hell, we just can't sit around and do nothing..."

Falling silent at this, Jasyn merely raised the brandy bottle to his lips once more...

...and took yet another hearty drink from it. Pretty soon, he was going to have to find himself another bottle if he was going to continue...

“If wait we must,” he said, “then wait we shall -- at least until we think of something more appealing. In the meantime, we should try to learn as much as we can of our situation. Shayla, can you run any type of diagnostics on the ship’s systems? Perhaps it was a malfunction of some type. Jasyn, perhaps you could find a storeroom if one exists. I should be able to create food if we need it, assuming the shield does not somehow interfere, but ship’s stores would be better. And Jasyn… I hope you are well, from earlier, I was not entirely in control.”

His gaze lingered on Jasyn for a moment, then Phalomir turned his attention back to Jharmeen.

“We shall find another way,” he said. “Between us, surely we will think of something. For now, I would like to peruse the navigational log.”

He gave her hand a light squeeze and let his eyes join with hers in a gaze that seemed to last for an eternity, yet was over too soon.

He stepped to the seat near the cubbyhole that held the log. He took it carefully from the nook and opened the cover. His eyes adjusted to reading in the dim light, but his annoyance soon won out as he absent-mindedly called upon his magick to increase the illumination around him. He read quickly, turning page after page, his mind eagerly devouring and analyzing the information. After a few moments he gasped and snapped his attention to the Dark Lady, his face set in a frown.

“Someone has tampered with this log,” he said, the magick light casting a soft glow around him. “The entry for Korriban matches an entry found earlier within, an entry for a giant red star.”

“While I really have no doubts as to who did this,” she said, coming over to where Phalomir sat now scowling at the log himself. “Another question arises.”

She paused, a hand on his shoulder now, and peered down to peruse the High Sith glyphs and sigils within the book in Phalomir’s hands. The pleasant glow from the magick light he had created softened her features, yet could not entirely mask the concern her expression conveyed.

She gave her head a shake, letting her hair toss about and free itself from the somewhat restricting confines of her cloak.

“While Lord Aelvedaar may indeed have been the one to alter this log, how would he have ascertained that we would be travelling to Korriban at this very time, when the sun would actually burst into supernova? There are too many unknowns in that scenario, I would think.

“Unless…”

She trailed off into silence, her eyes momentarily widening, first in horror, then anger.

“Unless he has been watching, and has himself somehow triggered this supernova to occur prematurely!"

For a moment she stood rock steady, her hand on Phalomir’s shoulder, as anger welled up to even greater heights within her.

“Phalomir,” she went on, now staring ahead into middle space. “You have read the log; you have discovered this terrible ruse. Did this sun have a planetary system?” The thought of millions, if not billions of innocent lives taken in that terrible blast was overwhelmingly heartbreaking. She closed her eyes at that thought, struggling to put emotional reaction away and focus on logic once more. Putting her mind to the task, she fought to recall some of the astronomy her father had taught Galen and her when they were younger. At length she hit mental paydirt.

“Indeed, not every red star ends its life in such a way, as I recall,” she said, opening her eyes. “Was this star meant to naturally explode at all? Shayla—“

Now she turned to the young woman.

“I believe this ship has data banks; see what you can find. Lord Phalomir can provide you with the coordinates of the star; perhaps if it wasn’t one destined to naturally end in a supernova explosion, the explosion itself would therefore be of a shorter duration. I cannot quite recall all my- my father taught me as a child, but I do know that only very, very large stars supernova.

“If it wasn’t destined for this, that means it wasn’t that large to begin with, or at least with respect to those other stars who do end up in a supernova. And if it wasn’t that large, then logic says it would have less stuff to throw out in that explosion; perhaps we won’t have to wait here as long as we believe.”

Then a scowl returned to her face, darkening exponentially as what she had just suggested struck her.

If that sun had a system, and this explosion was an artificial one, one not the natural destiny for that star…

Anger flooded her with raging heat; within the Beast leapt to its feet, growling and licking its great maw. The Glyph promptly burst into radiant offense upon her forehead; trembling to contain this rush of emotion, suddenly finding herself too hot, she shrugged off her cloak. Then she fell into the seat next to Phalomir and sat in a cloud of rage, silent, trying to keep herself under control.

“The star had a system, my lady,” he said gently. “But according to the log only one planet was inhabitable, but it was long ago sent into ruin. It was of interest to the Sith historically, holding possible clues to ancient mysteries of many races, but at the time of the log entry it was used only by the occasional archeological survey team.”

He closed the book and placed it on his lap. Jharmeen seemed to relax a fraction, and Phalomir slumped in his seat. He exhaled a deep breath and allowed his head to gently come to rest upon her shoulder.

“However,” he said softly. “that log was written 4000 years ago. I knew of that planet, my lady, and in fact spent some time there in my early days of Lordship, dealing with the governor of the mining colonies that had been established there… 200 years before.”

He could feel the anger within the Dark Lady mixing with her agony, the same feelings he felt swirling within him.

“If this was indeed Aelvedaar, then he has taken the lives of possibly 4000 miners and their families, if the timelines coincide. He has also destroyed a potential link to the past… perhaps in an attempt to tie up several loose ends at once…”

Graysith stiffened at this, anger rushing upward once more. For in the long and the short of it, it truly didn’t matter if the lives lost were counted in the thousands, the millions or the billions. What did matter was that lives were lost, and for no other reason than the attempt to destroy those aboard this warship, and perhaps as was suggested, to hide certain pertinent information about the past.

She remained stiff, her eyes unfocused, unfeeling to the horns pressed against her arm and side as the Sith Lord laid his head against her shoulder. After a moment, she clenched her hands, and rose to her feet. Her mouth was a grim, tight line.

“Mr. Lancaster,” she announced in a surprisingly neutral voice. “I do applaud your enthusiasm concerning our predicament; indeed, events are rapidly dovetailing to where it is perhaps more and more crucial that we reach Korriban as soon as possible. But hard radiation is hard radiation; I know this ship is built to withstand ion fire and the like, but I do not know if it can withstand what an exploding star can fling upon its hull, and I do not wish to risk our lives in that determination.”

Not as some would risk innocent lives… She turned to Shayla, the look in her eye clearly stating that unspoken thought.

“Please, Shayla; hurry with the assessment. If my guess proves correct, perhaps we can depart fairly soon, within ten hours, for example, rather than days.”

Suddenly realizing that there was really nothing that could be done until the identity of the exploded sun had been verified, she stood in silence. Then, unable to withstand her bottled-up rage any longer, unable to remain standing motionless while her sense of helplessness grew and grew, she simply began to pace about the confines of the bridge of the ship. Images of laughing children filled her head.

4,000 families….

But he had found his lady…

And together they were strong.

He reopened his eyes and looked long at the Dark Lady. Her grace, her strength, her beauty – they were as he remembered. He had died for her once, but this time nothing would take her away.

Nothing.

“Shayla, I am sure you shall find nothing wrong with the navigational system. Our coordinates should be that of the Corona Novadis system. Try plotting a course from K’eel Doba to Corona Novadis 3 and compare the time estimate to our actual travel time. I wonder if they are the same.”

He continued to gaze upon the Dark Lady, his heart heavy with concern. She too felt the grief of so many lives lost…

…and then to who he was.

From nowhere tears sprang into her eyes, blurring her vision; grimacing, she raised a hand and swiped her cheeks angrily, averting her face to gaze at the nearest bulkhead that no one would see her outburst. For quite suddenly she realized that what she was now feeling was not for the sake of those thousands dead, but for herself.

I called him my Sire. I loved him as that. How could I have misjudged him so badly? How could I have not seen something? Anything—the tiniest clue to indicate his true personality, his schemes, his deviousness. Was I too blinded by the power, too much in awe of that which he gave me?

A title and a power.

And for this, to follow him unthinking, blindly, unable to see him as anything other than my Sire and the he who bestowed of the All upon me…

Little by little she approached the bulkhead, unseeing, and at length was up against it. She let her forehead fall against it as a shudder raked her slight frame.

Who am I, to believe this?

“My lady,” he said, standing close behind her. He placed his hands upon her shoulders and gently caressed them. He spoke softly yet clearly. “I believe everything happens for a reason, take no blame for the actions of others. It grieves me to feel the hurt you suffer, to cry out at those who would use you to their own ends. But know this, for as much hurt as they have caused, as much cold hearted anguish they have laid upon you, there are those who truly love you and will stand with you come what may. There is one especially whose life would be empty – truly whose life would be over – were it not for meeting you. I cherish that moment and the good it is has brought not only me. We cannot change what we are, and what we have been through, but we can control our future. I see more and more proof of that every day. What I have seen in my past – your future – many of these things cannot now be. My lady, we will prevail.”

He gently turned her to face him, his eyes warm and focused as if he were speaking directly to her soul.

“Yes, grieve for the life you once knew, the love for a sire you once had. But do not bear your grief alone, for as long as you wish it, you are not alone. Together, my lady, we will face our future. Together.”

“You don’t understand,” she whispered as his dear face distorted and swam before her, moving fluidly until finally altering altogether to coalesce into a scene from another day. It was a scene encompassing misty swamps and twisted gnarltrees, fraught with animal cries and the stench of methane wafting in the air. A scene of mud and branch and leaf and stone and four images standing in all their professed love before her, while she in turn faced them with that which was stonily growing within her own heart.

Remembering.

“I- I have that same thing within me that he does, that same desire, that same evil. I too have taken the lives of others, including that of my own father...”

Unable to face him she dropped her face, and turned back to lean her forehead against the bulkhead once again.

A pause. Her head still to the bulkhead, she tried again, her voice the merest whisper.

...and she could bear staying silent longer. "And what may be perceived as evil to one is seen as good to another," Shayla then stated simply, her words spoken aloud but mostly meant for Graysith. "I'll never forget the first lesson you taught me...

...the one with the ty'plikk fruit marred by the blanworm. Although you killed the worm, that saved the fruit from being devoured; what was good for the ty'plikk was not good for the worm. Is it not the same when it comes to lives being lost? After all, even the Jedi...

...who claim to be the followers of Light...

...kill in the name of their cause when they deem it necessary. And though their cause may be for the benefit of the majority of the galaxy, I know there is always at least one who views even their "justified" killing as a bad and evil thing."

She paused, uncertain if anyone else was following where she was going. She certainly hoped so...

"It is no different with all of the things that you have had to do, Jharmeen," she stated then, "You have had to make choices in your life, difficult choices which most would wish to never have to make...

...and with the consideration of what would be best for the majority of those in the Universe most of the time."

She paused once more, pursing her lips and trying to get to the bottom of what she was thinking. "Things are far beyond what is good and what is evil...

...and have shifted to what is in the best interest of the Greater Good. You always taught me to simply accept things that are and go no further beyond that...

...but I do firmly believe that the clearest difference here is that you have always fought for the Greater Good of the Universe, no matter what road you had to take to get there. Aelvedaar..."

“Yes, and you cannot compare yourself with him. Indeed, you are better than he because you can truly allow someone into your heart. Seeing me within your heart, is there deceit? Is there an agenda? Is there manipulation? I do not see it there. There is love, caring, and goodness within you, and it shall balance that which you fear.”

“And I am there, as you are in mine, and always…”

He leaned forward and let his kiss place the finishing thoughts on his statement.

The unspoken retort wormed into her mind like black oil, smooth and slickly beautiful.

Did you not have an agenda once, not too long ago, one in which you—

She cut the thought in mid-track, trying to ignore it, to wish it away, to make it disappear… only to find herself utterly surprised that it was doing exactly that. Within, the Beast was rearing up in disgust, in offense that this should penetrate into its lair; with a yowl it swatted at the words, knocking them away long enough for Graysith to realize what Shayla and Phalomir had just really said to her.

She blinked, and pulled away from Phalomir, stared deeply into his eyes, then turned her gaze to Shayla. And then… she smiled as sudden realization struck home.

She may once have had an agenda… but did she follow it now? No. What had turned her from that path? What had prompted her to open herself in honesty to Shayla at last, to returning the memories to those from whom she had taken them, to now utterly dismiss her momentary lapse as…

…as a need to fill something within, something she herself had yanked from her being. Something she now found standing mere centimeters in front of her, and sitting quietly in the pilot’s seat, contemplating her in turn.

“I love you both,” she finally blurted, without really knowing that she had spoken the words, so naturally did they come from her lips.

“And I am going to need your continued strength and support if we are to defeat Lord Aelvedaar... but I want to thank you now for that which you have already given me."

Smiling, she reached up and placed a soft kiss on Lord Phalomir’s cheek; then pulled quickly away to go over and hug Shayla warmly. As if embarrassed then, she straightened quickly.

you can count on that no matter what happens and what we have to face. And for the moment, that starts with getting us where we're trying to go, despite the obstacles which have been planted in our way...

...and I do mean planted. According to our database, the star which has just exploded was once a yellow g-star which later turned into a red giant. It was never destined to go supernova, as has already been suggested...

...which means it was intentionally "blown."

Shayla paused at this, a scowl flitting across her features. "The good news in this scenario--which has also already been suggested--is that the radiation will also last a shorter time span since it was a smaller star, thus a smaller explosion. I estimate about twelve hours, rather than 3 days, before it will be safe for us to venture out of this chronotic shield."

...not really. For the moment he was getting wrapped up in a favorite pasttime he was beginning to think he'd abandoned far too long...

...drinking. He tipped the brandy-bottle upwards, half-hearing what was going on, hearing things about the good, the bad, and the evil. Something like that, anyway...

But as the final contents of brandy drained from the bottle, Jasyn clearly heard Shayla's words concerning their length of stay. He couldn't say he was thrilled about it...

...but it was damned better than three days. He glanced down to the empty brandy bottle, a thought surfacing in his mind enticingly.

And it'd be especially better if...

"Hey," he blurted then, turning to Phalomir. "Speaking of checking out the storerooms...

...is there anymore where this came from?" he queried, wagging the empty bottle in the air for emphasis as a somehow hopeful look covered his face...

“I do not know what supplies would be on board, but if the Dark Lady’s love for the finer things in life have transcended time as so many other of her qualities…”

A broad grin suddenly crossed his face.

“… then I shall need assistance in carrying the bottles back here.”

He took several strides towards the rear of the bridge, pausing at the hatchway.

"I trust you ladies will keep Mr. Stanza safe until we return?"

They had THAT MUCH brandy on this ship?! This was like heaven...

Jasyn looked back to Matt, whose look was a bit warning yet at the same time permitting. He could almost read the look on his commrade's face.

Have a little, not a lot...

...and bring me some while you are at it...

A Han Solo-ish grin spread across Jasyn's face as he got to his feet and turned back to Phalomir.

"Drinks for everyone, eh?" he said then, glancing to everyone on board with that same grin still planted on his face. "Sounds like a kriffing hell of a good plan to me."

Then, his step somehow lighter and definitely excited, Jasyn followed Phalomir to the back of the ship. As they left Matt Stanza made one single statement...

He opened the hatch and stepped through, Jasyn on his heels.

They passed through the narrow hallway, which in the soft light seemed even more narrow than it actually was.

“Quite different from the grand halls of the Temple on K’eel Doba, eh? Now that is a fine structure. Perhaps some day I shall begin restoration of the grand Temple of the Armorers, but that is a decision for another day. The question for this moment in time is…”

He stopped at a door and grasped the latch.

“…what do we have in the storeroom?”

Grinning, Phalomir turned the latch and opened the door. It swung inward, revealing a small room loaded with boxes and crates. Phalomir scanned the writing on the sides and stepped through the door. He picked out a box and handed it to Jasyn, who struggled with the weight.

“This is sealed food and water. Twelve hours is a long time without it. I shall prepare something in the galley.”

His eyes returned to the search, reading the labels on the boxes in front. His grin turning to a look of annoyance, he began moving stacks of boxes aside to reveal more boxes behind. He searched for several moments and finally his eyes lit up.

“Ah-hah!” he exclaimed happily. “Here is what we have been looking for. I knew she would not let me down.”

He unstacked the boxes from a tall pile and put them aside. Jasyn could see only the Sith’s horns moving above the boxes he had been stacking behind.

Phalomir finally reached the case of Sith brandy which had been placed at the bottom of the original pile. As he bent down to reach for it, he felt a strange prickling on his back just as his ears caught a faint beep riding underneath the low hum of the ship’s systems. He hesitated and tried to discern the direction of the sound. It seemed to originate from a small panel in the wall.

Phalomir slid the case away from the wall and touched the panel. It slid open smoothly, and Phalomir’s eyes widened at the sight of the small device behind the panel. It was a black orb, smooth and glossy. In its center was a digital display, counting down quickly.

11… 10…

“Jasyn-- get back to the bridge!” he shouted.

Phalomir called upon his Sith magick, delving into the pool of power that had been used so often as of late. Instead of a small tapping, however, he reached completely into his abilities, letting the power flow full force from his inner being and into the forming of a dense shell of energy around the orb.

5… 4… 3…

He focused all of his will into the shell. The initial blast of the bomb strained the shell and knocked Phalomir backwards into a small stack of boxes. Phalomir sent even more of his power into containing the blast. When the shock died, he concentrated on dispersing the energy created by the blast. Finally he released the shell and fell to his knees, exhausted.

He didn't give them any time to ask where the goods were...

...and where Phalomir was, for that matter. Didn't give them the time to even wonder.

"Phal told me to get back here," he stated rather directly, his eyes then darkening. "And judging from the tone in his voice, something is wrong in the storeroom..."

He mustered enough energy to move his legs, but as he tried to stand a sharp pain stabbed through his midsection. He howled both in surprise and pain, his deafening roar sounding into the hall and to the open hatchway of the bridge.

She repeated Jasyn’s maneuver at the door, and skidded to a halt just inside.

Nothing. All seemed normal; box upon box stacked from bulkhead to bulkhead, from floor to ceiling, criss-crossed with pathways so one could move between the stacks. Everything seemed quiet and orderly: nothing was out of place that she could determine, nothing seemed at odds or had been knocked over.

... Was it worry? Concern? Or something else...

... pain...

And this would in fact coincide with the cry which had brought them all hurrying to this very room...

...but what had happened?

Not yet in the storeroom enough to fully access the situation for herself, Shayla reached out and gently laid a hand on Graysith's shoulder.

”Phalomir?” she whispered as she entered the warmth of familiar ground. ”What happened? Where are you? This store room is large…”

“My—my lady… here,” he struggled. His voice carried only for a short distance, not rising above the boxes.

He balled his hands into fists and pounded the floor. Again. The pain was still great, but the focus of the actions allowed him to gain more control over the fire within him. Again he pounded the floor, over and over until the motions became quicker and stronger and the fire began to diminish. Finally he felt his voice welling.

“Here, my lady!” he croaked. “I am here… I--”

"Oh dear gods..." she whispered quietly, closing her eyes and stretching out a hand to lay on his sweaty brow. Even at a light touch his skin seemed to be boiling...

Shayla shuddered at this realization, her eyes still closed. Her intent had been to heal, which she could do...

...but even the healing touch of the Force wouldn't solve the root of the problem. It was as if Phalomir had swallowed up the very fires of Hell...

Shayla pressed her lips together, knowing very well what she had to do. Jedi of the ages had always been trained to absorb heat with the Force, as had she...

...and many, like Corran Horn, were highly adept in doing so. But then, even as every Force-user has a strong point...

...every Force-user also has a weakness. And heat absorption was hers; for though she could do it to a minimal efficiency, Shayla didn't know if she could do this...

...but she knew with sudden certainty that she had to try, for well did she feel the pain in Phalomir spreading out through link to Graysith, causing her to feel his pain as well. Shayla knew then she had to try...

Certain in what she must do, feeling that the Force would guide her and make her stronger in her abilities...

...for the Force tended to respond to even one's weakest abilities more readily under urgent circumstances, when adreline was flowing...

...Shayla stretched out with healing energies as she established a secure link to Phalomir. Even as she did so, great beads of sweat began to form on her forehead, but Shayla didn't back down. Squeezing her eyes shut, Shayla then reached with the Force, using it to pull the heat from Phalomir's body and into her own. Though this might temporarily wound her since heat absorption was not her strongest suite...

...Shayla did have one advantage that Phalomir might not in his injured state, and the Force was guiding her to use it. For though heat absorption was not a gift of hers...

...healing was. Even as she began to feel Phalomir's brow cool greatly, a fire began to burn deeply within her, causing sweat to begin wetting her hair. In that moment, Shayla let the link she had established with Phalomir close. In that moment, her hand fell from his forehead and her body fell limply to the storeroom floor.

And oh, the pain and the burning that seemed to engulf her...

Barely conscious, Shayla used her final efforts to reach to the Force, pulling upon Force-healing energies to bring herself into a healing trance. Even as she fell completely unconscious under the Force's healing touch, her fevered brow began to cool, evidencing that she would recover given a little bit of time...

“My lady!” he shouted. “Over here!”

He glanced down at the still form of Shayla, reached out to her, but drew back. What he knew of her abilities told him to wait, and he turned and headed for the Dark Lady.

“A bomb, my lady. Hidden in this room I found a bomb. I was able to… diffuse it… well, I contained its blast. Shayla I believe healed me, and is now herself resting.”

He looked back to the end of the room where Shayla lay hidden amongst the boxes, then returned his attention to the Dark Lady.

Stopped cold.

Jerked fractionally; shook her head.

Blinked.

And finally let her stance loosen.

"I am pleased to see you are not injured, and that Shayla will heal," she said flatly. Then without any addendum or explanation she turned on her heel and left for her quarters.

“My lady?” he called.

Not waiting for an answer, he strode into the hallway to catch up with her.

"Why, nothing," she said sweetly.

He followed.

“My lady,” he called again. “This is an important topic and one we should not dismiss.”

No answer.

He quickened his pace and caught up with her.

“My lady – Jharmeen. Something seems amiss, well beyond anything we have seen. Please, tell me. You know I am always here for you.”

He stared deeply into her eyes, trying to read them for something -- anything. He also let his feelings seek out the link with her, and sent his love through it.

Something rippled in the back of hers, quickly slick, like pooling oil.

Then she turned once again and continued, her pace increasing until without actually running she was impossibly moving through the ship at a near break-neck speed.

She reached her quarters, entered, and closed and locked the door behind her, whirled and leaned against it...

...and stood there a long, long moment, staring off into something only she could really see, a cold smile on her face.

Within, the links she held with Shayla and Phalomir snipped, severing as easily as a ruptured vein.

No, not empty. There was something there. Something that sent shivers down his spine.

Oily

Yes, there was something there. He suddenly stood straight, the hairs on his neck standing on end, as vivid images flashed into his mind.

He was held down, unable to move. The black river stood before him, flowing eerily from nothing. His father called strange names, and laughed as the man-thing stepped from the blackness. No, it had spring from the darkness itself, as if it were part of it. The man-thing stepped closer, its strange skin flowing like the river itself… sleek, fluid…

“Oily,” he whispered.

He shook his head slightly, almost trembling. What he thought, he could not believe. Surely he was jumping to conclusions, she was merely tired…

“Oily,” he whispered again. “It was beaten back into the blackness, but now it is back…”

Panic tried to set in. He focused and tried to remain calm.

“Jumping at ghosts, Phalomir, she is merely tired…”

Ghosts. Yes, ghosts. Set your mind at ease, surely she will understand later.

He leaned against the wall and breathed deeply. Although he had not used this talent for some time, it came to him easily. In an instant he felt his consciousness moving from his body and floating down the hall. As he reached the door the Dark Lady had entered, he paused. Gathering his determination, he passed through the wall.

Not this time, my dear Phalomir….

The smirk still planted on her face, she whirled away from the door, quick as a fleeting thought, her hand raised and poised with talon-daggered intent. From the tips of her fingers there flew a brilliantly greeny-golden something, that entwined about the Sith lord's essence until he was entirely encased within it.

Sparks of emerald, of chrysoprase and rutile ripped the air… and when they quieted, it was to reveal the Chosen Daughter of the Sith standing alone in her quarters, the Sith’s persona, his emotions and feelings and everything other than his physical body having been sent through an open portal into a particular nothing laying like a trap at in the bowels of a certain valley, an otherness that now roiled and mewed in thanks for the bounty it had just received.

Without Graysith’s door, Phalomir slumped to the floor, a empty shell still horribly alive, and one utterly ignored as Graysith now passed him by, heading back to Primary Stores like a grim, grey ghost. Upon reaching it, she peeped within without opening the door, smiled to see Shayla was still unconscious.

Perfect....

Entering, she lifted a hand with nonchalant ease; in the blink of an eye the body of the Sith Lord had been transported right back to where it had been.

Right beside the groggy Shayla, who was beginning to show signs of awakening.

Graysith smiled coldly... then planted a look of despair and horror on her face, letting crocodile tears flood into her eyes and roll down her cheeks.

"Shayla!" she cried out in agony, as if the very world had just taken the one thing she treasured more than anything away from her.

"What has happened to Lord Phalomir?

"What have you done?"

...if in fact anyone was at the time. Still, she was keenly aware of the events which had transpired and what she had done to thwart them. Concern rose up in her heart at these thoughts, so she stretched out to the first subject of those concerns...

...only to come up with absolutely nothing in that department. Shock at this realization registered even as words simultaneously registered in her ears.

"Shayla! What has happened to Lord Phalomir?

"What have you done?"

Immediately recognizing the voice of those words, Shayla sat bolt upright, her heart jumping into her throat. Her eyes fell upon the entirely lifeless form of Phalomir, and on instinct Shayla stretched out through the Force to ascertain if what she was seeing was in fact the truth.

"No..." she whispered in quiet horror, shaking her head, tears springing into her eyes even as she came up short. Even as geniune tears began to flood her eyes, Shayla looked to what at least appeared to be a despairing Graysith.

"There was a strange sort of fire burning within him," Shayla explained through tears. "I used a Force-link and heat absorption to take the fire unto myself and then heal my own body of any remaining injuries resulting from that attempt..."

She trailed, more tears. "I know I succeeded, I just know I did..."

Once more her words dropped off even as she reached inward to assess what she was saying aloud.

Do you know for a fact you saved him from his fate, Shayla Stargazer? Heat absorption was never one of your gifts, a voice taunted somewhere deeply within.

You did succeed," an angel replied the challenge. "And even if you had failed, at least you tried with your very best..."

"Nooo..." Shayla cried, getting shakily to her feet then and letting a despairing and empathetic gaze fall into Graysith's somehow accusatory one. Shayla shuddered involuntarily...

...then firmed, though tears still flooded her eyes. "I know I succeeded in saving him from the internal fire, though I can't give an explanation for what has happened," she reiterated. "Something just seems very wrong..."

Once more Shayla simply trailed, her eyes still locked to Graysith's, whose own were yet filled with tears as well. Then in one totally instinctive motion, Shayla abandoned any hesitations...

...and stepped forward in one smooth motion, wrapping her arms about Jharmeen in an empathetic hug.

There were, quite simply, no words...

Only to come up empty handed.

At length Graysith pulled away. She took a step backward, and looked sorrowfully upon the limp and richly robed body that lay at her feet.

“Perhaps the Force is not the answer to everything, Shayla,” she said in a hoarse whisper, keeping her eyes pinned on Phalomir. “Perhaps this is an occasion where my abilities may be useful.”

With no other word than that she fell on her knees beside the still form, and reaching out laid her hands upon his face. She closed her eyes, tilted back her head, let the Glyph on her forehead burst into wondrous life…

…and after a few moments quietly removed her hands from Phalomir. She looked up at Shayla, a carefully orchestrated admixture of horror and denial and accusation emblazoned upon her features.

“It would appear your talents indeed proved of no avail,” she said hoarsely as she rose to her feet.

“For I find no sentient mind living within him. It is as if it has been…

”Burned away.”

Fresh tears sprang into her eyes and she swayed a bit from side to side. A quick tilt of her head to stare blankly at Phalomir, a certain squeezing of her eyelids, and two precisely selected tears fell upon him, tiny rain bringing soothing relief to blazing fires too late.

“I am afraid there is nothing we—we can do,” she said brokenly, taking another step backward and hugging herself as if in the attempt to ward off this terrible sight. Indeed, that image was fortified as she lifted a hand to cover her eyes altogether, turning away as she did.

“I can bear to be here no longer; I shall be in my quarters; please let me know when the radiation has ceased so I may drop the shield from about us that we might continue on our way.

“I- I--"

Unable to vocalize, she shook her head. Then, her head bowed, her shoulders slumped, she turned and once again left Primary Stores for her quarters, the smile upon her face growing larger and larger with every step that she took.

"What the kriffing hell is going on?" he asked, a curious tone in his voice. "I just saw Graysith head back the other way in tears..."

As Jasyn trailed and looked downward, Shayla looked up in surprise, blinking.

"Oh dear gods..." Jasyn said then, his eyes locked on the motionless form of Phalomir, "Is he...

... "dead?"

"He's not dead," she then replied softly, "At least, not in body..."

She trailed, shuddering. Then, "Graysith said it was as though his mind had been...

... burned away. If that is truly the case, then he might as well be dead..."

Once more trailing, Shayla's eyes darkened, and for a long moment she couldn't think of what to say or do...

...then she realized with a start then there was no thinking to do about it. "We should move Phalomir somewhere more suitable for a Dark Lord of the Sith than a storeroom floor," she said then, albeit a bit numbly. "Then we should get to the business of resting and preparing to get to Korriban. I'm going to keep a monitor on the ships systems...

...after all, someone is keenly interested in keeping us from getting there, and I wouldn't put it past him to somehow plant a bomb aboard this ship, though I haven't the first proof to confirm such suspicions...

...but it's just all so damned convenient that this is all happening now."

Shayla trailed at this, glancing down to the motionless Phalomir once more, her heart aching as an accusatory voice in her head tried to invade her thoughts. She forced it back. "We just have to keep fighting...

...and not let Phalomir's sacrifice be in vain..."

A Shayla gazed down at Phalomir, a bright glow pulsated from within his robes. Soon the glow permeated through the dark robes, creating an eerie red glow upon the motionless Dark Lord’s midsection.

Red? Glow? The Eye...

Still frozen, Shayla simply stared for a long moment.

It WAS the eye. Phalomir himself had spoken of finding it and having it...

...but then, what should you do with it, Shayla Stargazer?

Blinking at this thought, the only thing that came as a natural answer to Shayla registered. Even as Jasyn Lancaster and Matt Stanza, who the former had sought for assistance, got ready to pick up the large Sith and take him somewhere more befitting, Shayla finally managed to take her eyes off the warm glow. The two men had just entered the storeroom aisle once more when Shayla rose a halting hand.

Lancaster glanced down at Phalomir's glowing midsection. "What the---???!!!" he started out.

"Leave him where he is, for the moment," Shayla spoke up at last. "There's something Graysith needs to know about."

And with no further preamble than this, Shayla turned on her heel and began making her way towards the quarters where she believed Graysith would be, uncertain of just what to make of an Eye who seemed to be responding minus the essence of that person which it usually responded to...

Just sitting there. Her hands lay quiet in her lap, her eyes blank, the Glyph a dull adamantine splotch on her brow.

A whisper traveled into her essence along the one-way link she yet maintained with Shayla.

Now her eyes narrowed, a snarl curled her lips. She rose to her feet, clenching her hands, but did not move other than that.

Far, far away, the relayed message was assayed, analyzed, scrutinized, and mentally spit upon. There was no time to intercept the human before she returned to the fallen Sith, at least not without revealing certain information for which the time was not yet…

Appropriate.

Another further weighing of pros and cons, balance sought after…

A compromise was reached.

So be it.

Graysith slowly lowered herself until once more she was sitting on the edge of her bed, hands in lap, eyes and Glyph dull and blank. Deep within her consciousness, a muttered command poured forth.

She now shall be the Bearer, the one to carry the Eye. This is good, for she is not Sith.

But trust her not, or her companions, for they seek to destroy you. You must protect yourself...

You must protect us.

This will not be difficult. I will show you the way...

In the store room, hidden amidst boxes and crates and barrels and containers, the remnants of what appeared to be an ordinary incindiary device flared unseen, lashed out with a particularly beautiful greeny-goldness...

And subsided into nothing more than myriad metallic bits and pieces, those of the sort one normally expects to find after such a device has exploded.

The Dark Lord is gone for now...and the Dark Lady has fallen too? she then thought, the frown still planted on her face, What madness is this you speak of...

...torn between the reliability of what the Eye was telling her and what her heart was prompting her to do. In this instance Shayla knew she would have to rely on something more than her feelings on the matter; she would have to turn to the simple facts. And what were those facts?

Someone had been trying to hamper their mission to Korriban from the get-go, and that someone was most likely Aelvedaar. They'd been pushed out of hyperspace on top of a sun going supernova unnaturally, and they'd lost a life...

...or at least it appeared they had. There had been a bomb planted aboard their ship...

...a bomb which Phalomir had found and tried to stop, only to somehow have his mind seemingly "burned away" in the process while the rest of his body appeared to be fully living. And in the midst of all of this horrible madness, Graysith had retreated to her room to mourn...

...and had likewise severed the link she had been mainataining with Shayla?

Shayla's frowned darkened at this thought, a warning flag waving persistently in her mind's eye, screaming for attention.

Now, was this action something that seemed consistent with Graysith's usual persona? Has it ever happened before? Yes, once. But in that instance Graysith was under duress. So could something in fact be going on here as the Eye is trying to point out?

At this thought Shayla whirled on the spot, heading back into the storeroom and past Lancaster and Stanza. There she knelt, scratching and sorting through boxes and kegs and crates til at length she came up with exactly what she was looking for: the remnants of a typical bomb.

So then why wasn't this settling her concerns, and why did she still feel a Force tremor within? Follow your instincts, Shayla Stargazer...for if this is somehow a trap...

...how would it profit anyone? After all, the Eye has never brought harm to Graysith. In fact, it once protected her...

Shayla stood, closing her eyes a moment, trying to clear her mind. Blind loyalty is NOT always the best. Rather, loyalty with wisdom...

Opening her eyes then, Shayla leaned over, quickly removed the Eye from Phalomir's robes, and hid it securely on her own person. She paused then, searching the Force for any tremors or niggles regarding this action...

...and came up with none. She turned then, her greeny-blue eyes falling into Jasyn Lancaster's quizzical ones. "Move Lord Phalomir to a more appropriate location," she restated, "Then get to the bridge. I have a feeling something unusual may be going on here, and I don't think it is wise for us to stay split up for a prolonged period of time."

Saying that, Shayla walked past him, urgency lending wings to her feet...

...when she once more suddenly halted, looking over her shoulder towards Lancaster. "And by the way...

...don't have too much of that," she finished, nodding towards the kegs on the storeroom floor before turning back and proceeding towards the bridge.

...and quite frankly he didn't like not knowing what was going on. He had a bone or two he was going to pick with the woman before she started bossing him around; after all, there were only a few people he had ever taken orders from...

...and she wasn't on the list. Even as he and Matt returned to the bridge where Shayla had already seated herself at the navboard, she turned to them.

"Have a seat," she said simply.

That was all it took. "Now, you just wait one kriffing second!" he growled. Shayla's brows shot upward in surprise.

"Just who the hell put you in charge here, and what the hell is going on? What something unusual were you referring to when you said something was going on here...

...or do you intend to keep us in the dark? And why did you take that thing from Lord Phalomir's robes? And furthermore...

just what the kriffing hell is it?"

These damn EE employees. They must be trained to be suspiscious...

"I was getting to all that," she then stated. "The Eye of R'lous...

...which Phalomir spoke of as a possible method to find Galen and solve some mysteries for us before we left for Korriban ...

...has spoken to me and has requested me take it into my possession, which I have done. According to it, Phalomir is elsewhere and will return to his body in time...

...and Graysith has been possessed by some dark one. I can't verify the truth of any of this aside from what the Force is guiding me to, but the Eye has always acted in Graysith's stead, so I cannot see why it would turn against her now. That, and it's just a feeling that I have..."

Shayla sighed once more and trailed a moment, her eyes turning vague. "She has severed her link with me, and that in itself is highly unusual; still, I think time will tell. In the meantime, however," she continued, turning back to the navboard, "I plan to do a little research. If there's any proof of foul play to be found...

...I'll be damned if I'm not going to find it..."

...as did he remember his final fate. Unthinking, he took a good drink of the brandy, letting it burn down his throat.

"Just when you think it simply can't get any worse...

...it does. We know all too well what can happen when someone with dark intent muddles with another's mind..."

He trailed, taking another drink, his implications well understood by the others in the cabin. Stargazer turned and sent an unreadable expression his way.

"Lay off that stuff, would you?" she then said, changing the subject quickly as she nodded towards the brandy in Jasyn's hand. "It won't help us for you to be drunk...

...and I think you know that."

Jasyn scowled, finally conceding and replacing the cap. "Yeah," he then said aloud. "It sure as kriffing hell won't help us..."

Putting the brandy bottle down with a thud then, Jasyn crossed his arms even as his eyes grew incredibly vague, as though he was lightyears away.

...she just simply wanted to rule out all possibilities. She could easily conclude that Aelvedaar may have planted the bomb aboard the ship...

...but then, Shayla wasn't entirely certain. Shoving them out of hyperspace on top of a star going supernova sounded like something the Dark Lord might do...

...but planting a bomb? And to add to that...

...the possible possession of Graysith by some other? Shayla couldn't help but recall a similiar situation to this...

...one which she had come across not so long ago. As this crossed her mind, she couldn't help but turn back to the quiet Matt Stanza and the equally quiet--

--and brooding--

--Jasyn Lancaster.

"You know," she started, "It's entirely possible that we are coming up against more than just Aelvedaar, and more than even the Yuuzhan Vong, especially if Graysith does truly have a dark entity with her. Thoran and his Master once posssessed the body of another...

...and we have proposed that perhaps Aelvedaar may be in league with both. There is no way to be certain...

...but I can't rule out the possibility at this point..."

Shayla trailed, noting both the thoughtful look in Matt's eyes...

...and the glazed over one in Jasyn Lancaster's. She turned back to the navboard. "We have about 5 standard hours til it is safe to exit the chronotic shield...

...maybe you should both get some rest while the opportunity is still present..."

...cause who knows when the Hell it will be present again...

...and even in rest, a part of her was actively keeping tabs on her environment, just in case something were to happen. Her dark propositions and thoughts troubled her even in sleep however...

...and a nightmare which she wouldn't even remember haunted her dreams. She awoke with a start, finding her forehead wet with sweat. Taking a deep breath she attuned herself to her environment and checked her wrist chrono. She took another deep breath.

It was time.

Glancing back to a sleeping Jasyn and a stirring Matt, Shayla then stood.

"I will be right back," she said, unsure if either man heard her. Then she exited the cabin of the warship and headed directly to Graysith's quarters.

She knocked three times, lightly. Then she waited til at length the door finally oiled open, revealing Graysith. Her look was entirely unreadable...

"It is safe for the shield to be dropped," Shayla said quite simply. Then she added, her voice softening, "And I have had Lord Phalomir moved from the storeroom and to some quarters."

“Excellent, on both accounts,” she said softly, and raised a hand. Smiling then, she pulled back into her quarters, turning sideward to let Shayla see past her toward the large viewport that dominated the outside bulkhead.

Millions upon millions of stars shone with steady light, their myriad colors sending a soft wash of light into Graysith’s cabin to chase away what shadows seemed to be lingering there.

She turned an intense gaze to Shayla.

“Your calculations were quite correct, Shayla,” she said, nodding as she walked around the young woman and entered the corridor beyond. “I shall input the correct coordinates to Korriban; we should soon be there.”

She paused a moment longer, turned and waited for Shayla to leave her quarters. Smiling then, she led onward, and soon had gained the bridge where she quickly went to the navigational board and keyed in certain strokes. Straightening up, she turned to the others, something of a shadow flicking quickly behind her eyes when she noticed the particular look Jasyn was sending her way.

“I anticipate a hyperspace journey of perhaps another twelve hours,” she said simply.

"We have rested," Shayla then replied. "Perhaps we can all eat as we discuss what our plans may be once we reach Korriban? she then queried.

Before Graysith could so much as nod in approval, Lancaster was up on his feet and strolling past them, Matt Stanza on his heels. Stanza paused briefly, letting his eyes cut to Shayla then Graysith as he shrugged as if to say: Jasyn will be Jasyn...

Then he turned and followed his commrade. Shayla then looked back to Graysith. "I suppose we should follow them," she said then, pausing for a monent and then suddenly reaching out a hand to lay on one of Graysith's shoulders, concern clearly evident in her eyes. "Know that if you need a shoulder to cry on or just some support, I'm here. I sense you pulling away...

...if only because you have closed your link with me."

Shayla trailed a moment, the concern in her eyes seeming to grow in tandem with her words. "When you are ready, know that I will be here and waiting when you feel that you can let me back in..."

“Your support is acknowledged and accepted, Shayla,” she began smoothly. “But there is really no further need that I expend the energy I must to maintain the link between us. Anything we could possibly pass along to each other through it should not remain hidden from the others.

“Are we not all in this together now? Can what I not speak to you, be therefore spoken aloud to Mr. Stanza, or to Mr. Lancaster?

“And speaking of Mr. Lancaster—“

She broke off, her upper lip quirking into a grin as she turned in the direction the two men had disappeared into.

“I do hope he knows where he is going. This is rather a large warship.”

...but then, what if the Eye was somehow right? Should she dare take that risk?

And indeed, perhaps things were working out too perfectly considering all that had hampered them up this point. Graysith had, after all, just lost a Sith whom Shayla was certain she loved--

--and who appeared to love her--

--yet she seemed to be taking it very well..

Shayla snapped alert then, realizing that Graysith had managed to round up the two EE employees. She was leading them into a room with an empty table, one waiting to be filled with food and drink. Lancaster froze, scowling at the table's emptiness, his thoughts clearly readable.

The tendril, carefully guarded and protected, tapped lightly around the shell placed around Graysith. It gingerly danced, a one-way link tip-toeing around the presence the Eye felt.

We have met before. You did not triumph then, why shall you succeed now?

The Eye glowed softly within Shayla’s pocket, the warmth spreading to her skin.

Protect the Dark Lady well, my friend.

“Then let us see what bounty Phal—Lord Phalomir was preparing for us.”

She turned away from the group and hastened into the gleaming and spacious galley through a door in the back of the dining area, by-passing the little table where Matt sat with a scowling Jasyn. She cut them a quick glance as she continued on then proceeded to ignore them altogether, even though she could fairly feel Jasyn’s eyes trying to cut through her back.

Her smile darkened, just a touch.

Then she was in the galley, where she proceeded to rattle and clank dishes and pans about. This domestic clatter was followed by a period of intense silence, a silence intruded upon by the occasional thud of the closing door to cupboard or food preservation unit, as she hunted about for items to prepare.

Time passed on, and she remained away from the group. Once she came back to offer a light wine as an appetizer only to disappear into the galley again. Finally, however, she returned to the group, a large tureen carried carefully in her hands.

“I could not find what Lord Phalomir was creating, if indeed he ever got this far—“

She shot a quick and meaningful glance to Jasyn.

“So I made some soup.”

Smiling with pride at her culinary efforts, she proceeded from one to the next, dishing up bowls of hot liquid laden with succulent chunks of exotic meats and vegetables. When all had been served, she seated herself and picked up her spoon. Pausing then, she looked to the others.

“Eat, my friends,” she said nicely, “that we might then discuss what we must do in the time ahead of us.”

She remained quiet then, hand poised, spoon rock steady and empty, and watched as those present let their noses dictate their actions. It wasn’t long before all were heartily slurping up soup—

--and in not too great a time after that, unconscious.

Something black and oily rippled in the depths of Graysith’s eyes as she set her spoon down with great deliberation. Getting to her feet, she prowled up to where the others lay sprawled where they fell, some with their heads upon the table, and Jasyn actually upon the floor of the dining area. She looked down upon him a moment, holding back her immediate impulse to kick him in his face; then she went to where Shayla lay out like a light.

For a long moment she studied her, looking at her intently, as if hunting for something…

Then she closed her eyes and fell into a semi-conscious state herself, as if her very body was being set aside for the moment, not being of any immediate use at the moment.

Time passed...

Her eyes flew open, and the Glyph raged. She ignored it, and hurried from her sleeping comrades to return to the bridge. A warning buzzer was sounding their immediate drop from hyperspace…

How easily they were fooled! They did not even notice that you knew the coordinates to this system, which you keyed in right beneath their dullard’s noses….

Her fingers played about the control panel, and the heavens cried out with a mighty roar of displaced air as the great warship descended toward the surface of the mythical planet of Korriban. She settled it upon the dusty and sere surface as lightly as a feather, then put the systems into standby mode.

Not deigning to honor those by the touch of her great powers, she then returned to the galley area and, one at a time, hauled the three remaining passengers from the ship and out into the furnace which described the environment of the planet. Shayla was the last to be thus dumped; for a moment Graysith remained stooped over her quiet body, swaying a bit, her eyes closed. The Glyph on her brow shouted in disgusted despair at the betrayal; after a moment thus, she opened her eyes and, keeping them firmly planted upon the distant horizon, straightened.

Oil writhed within her being. Deep within, the fettered Beast clawed and tried to yowl.

And deeper yet, some little speck that was still herself sobbed in anguish.

But she straightened. And kept her eyes planted on that horizon as if it was the most interesting thing in the entire universe. And turned and walked with a steady and almost nonchalant pace back to the warship.

Beneath him, the terrifying black and oily something writhed like a den of dianoga; he tightened his hold on his weapon and snorted, trying to chase away his rising fear.

I don’t really have to go after her, he thought to himself. There really is no reason for it; I can quite easily clamber straight back up this slope and head away, until I finally find—

It wasn’t so much the gut feeling that he would find absolutely nothing that stopped that train of thought. It was, rather, the sense of shame he felt suddenly rising within him.

After what I—after what He made me do to her….

He took a deep breath, strengthening his resolve. Then with no more looking back, he continued down slope, until at length he once more found himself on a small outcrop. This one was only a few meters above that roiling, awful nothing.

He took in another great breath of air, and blinked his eyes once.

Rhua, admit it. You never really wanted to be a scientist anyway now, did you?

No stepping back: he took a final deep breath and launched himself into the black, and only in the final seconds before impact did he manage to close his eyes….

...and her eyes snapped open even as she sat straight up on the desert ground of Korriban. Not far from her lay one Jasyn Lancaster and one Matt Stanza...

...and no Graysith or warship to speak of.

And you wanted evidence that all was not well...

With a start then, Shayla reached for the place where she'd hidden the Eye...

It was still there...

...so whomever may have taken possession of Graysith must have also wanted the Eye to be with her, and on this planet.

That wasn't a good thing. And what was in store for Graysith?

Shayla shuddered at the very thought. She had a very bad feeling about this...

Even as these thoughts surfaced in her mind, she became aware of the stirring Matt Stanza. Beside him Lancaster still laid totally out. Shayla reached out a hand and gave him a little shake...

...and sat up with a jerk, spitting out desert sand.

"What the kriffing hell?!?! he blurted, his brown eyes snaping alert. Quickly he picked up on the fact that he was sitting in the middle of a desert with his commrade and none other than Shayla Stargazer. The latter looked somehow troubled...

"Oh hell," Jasyn growled. "Something tells me that Graysith didn't just leave us for a bit to go on a quick supply run..."

...and I don't even have a link to lock on to her by any longer."

She quieted a moment at that, despair in her eyes. "The fact is," she then continued, "Without a ship, we have no way to even depart this planet, nor find Graysith as I would like. And even if we manage to get to the Valley and Phalomir's Dark Canyon, and managed to find Galen, we still would be stuck here. Unless..."

Shayla closed her eyes then, eliciting an irritable look from Lancaster as she did so. Perhaps the Eye could indeed help them...

I need a beacon to guide my path. I do not know the whereabouts of the Dark Lady, and my friends and I are stranded here even if we succeed in our quest to find Galen Danner on this planet. Please, show me a way...

"Wait a minute," he opened with simply, "We can't be certain we have been deposited on Korriban; after all, there are many desert worlds in the Universe."

As he spoke, he stood, brushing sand off his pants. Then he continued, "At any rate, it's no use sitting around and waiting for answers. If we want them, we'll have to go looking for them. Can you sense any lifeforms? Anything unusual? Something we could head towards..."

"...Water...?" Jasyn interrupted irritably, running a hand across his throat as he too stood, a hopeful look planted on his face as he looked expectantly to Shayla and waited.

...and coming up with something extremely interesting.

"There's something ahead of us," she then spoke up, pointing in the correct direction. "Something that I just can't feel...

...at all. And whatever it is, it's enormous. Other than that, I sense some lifeforms here and there...

...but not much else."

She paused, cocking her head in the direction she had just indicated. "This is going to be somewhat of a hike," she then proceeded with, "Better get moving."

If you ask for my aid, then wait for the answer. Patience is the key, remember this. The Dark Lady has done her part, let her rest. Now we fulfill our part, aiding those would be used by the dark masters. When we succeed, we save her as well. Keep faith in what you know, and in the potential of those whom you do not. Not all is as it seems.

...not in the least.

"Something wrong?" Matt Stanza queried, pausing mid-step as he realized she had fallen back.

Shayla looked to the red-headed man. "No," she responded without explanation. Then she continued on with, "We should keep moving, though. And we should look for some vegetation, if there is any..."

"...and some water," Lancaster interjected persistently.

Shayla turned to him a moment with the barest of frowns. "Yes," she then agreed. "Truth is, I don't know exactly how far we have to go..."

She trailed this time, noting the darkening look in Lancaster's eye. "...but I don't believe it is that far," she amended.

Jasyn snorted, gesturing with one hand palm upwards as if to say "Just lead the way already."

Shayla humored him, and began forward once more. The two EE employees wasted no time falling in step as well. And though the sun was hot and the air was dry, Shayla could help but wrap her cloak more tightly about herself as she headed onward, feeling as though she was the blind leading the blind.

There was something out there...

...not that they were even attempting to do so anyway.

"We're never going to find any food here," he interjected into the silence as they followed Stargazer along. "We're just lucky we managed to dig up a little water, such as it was. We were left to die here, you know..."

Stargazer stopped and turned abruptly, the look in her eye hard. Jasyn ambled to a stop as well, followed by his coworker.

"All the more reason for us to continue pressing on," she spoke up with determination. "And as long as we keep finding water...

...we'll be allright, at least for some time.

"If we don't all pass out from exhaustion, that is," Jasyn growled. "Look, I want to get somewhere soon too. But I don't see us pressing on at the expense of our own health. We're gonna need that, after all."

Stargazer remained silent for a moment, the look in her greeny-blue eyes unreadable...

...then she simply sighed. "Allright, we'll stop and rest for a while, since resting during the day with no shelter will be difficult."

Slowly, ever so slowly, the intrusive sound of something very similar to an annoying water drip wormed into Graysith’s sensibilities, bringing something of reality to bear upon her. A breath of a sigh pushed a light groan from her, adding magnitude enough to the annoying ticking sound first capturing her unconscious attention to jiggle her yet another degree or so closer to awakening. A period of time passed by, unitless, borne upon the back of whimsy, chasing gray ghosts down glimmering hallways…

…until that annoying dripping sound escalated in timbre to where it seemed to shatter her very head.

She opened her eyes, blinking against the light. Around her was nothing more than the soothing emptiness of the warship’s bridge, its ambient lighting reduced to standby mode, dim enough to make the steadily flashing glyphs and sigils on the navigation boards stand out almost in bas relief. The ticking, dripping sound expanded outward… then contracted down to a steady and supportive cyberbiotic whisper, that of the ship’s systems assuring themselves and their passengers that all was well with the universe.

But they were quite incorrect in this.

She blinked again, and this time managed to rouse herself enough to take a better look around. One perceptive enough to assure her that yes, she really was alone.

Well, at least here, on the bridge.

Her frown returned with a vengeance. Something had happened, she had been somewhere, had gone off somewhere with someone… But who? Where? And of the greatest importance of all:

Why?

Unable to come to an answer on her own, she did the only thing she could do: reaching out to the control panel she quickly accessed the ship’s logs and began keying in computer queries.

To no avail. Her presence here was a mystery; the reason behind it, an enigma. There was no log entry denoting destination, nothing anywhere giving a clue to…

To anything.

She frowned again, trying to remember back. Slowly an image started coming into focus: a fearsome face, red of skin, great of horn, with intensely glowing, brightly colored eyes.

She smiled at the memory, happy to be able to hook onto something substantial at last.

Aelvedaar, my dear Sire….

That thought immediately connected to another: a snowbound world encircled by a slight ribbon of green, said ribbon dominated by a gray and brooding edifice.

Khar Delba….

She had a connection there. He was there. He would explain it all to her….

The smile was still growing on her face as, unsure as to how she knew what to do, she now leaned forward and keyed in the coordinates to that Sith world. The streaks of starlines about the ship shrank into colorful dots as the ship dropped from hyperdrive to orient itself.

Then it disappeared from reality once more, carrying her swiftly and unerringly toward Khar Delba and the Great Temple of the Sorcerers of the Sith.

...Aylemaar, no less...

...and dreamed of the past. Dreamed of searching for her true potential and of finding a place at Graysith's side.

...stay loyal, for when she returns she shall need you to stand with her...

...when she returns...

With a start, Shayla sat up, brushing hair out of her eyes. Not too far away, Jasyn Lancaster continued in a somewhat fitful slumber, even as the sun was already beginning to rise.

"We need to get your buddy up and get moving again," Shayla started simply. "The eye mentioned that Graysith will return...whether that means she will return to here, return to herself, or perhaps both I do not know. But one thing is for certain...

...one of those will happen."

She paused at this, her greeny-blues growing a bit vague as a dark thought surfaced in her mind. "I wonder just what she's doing right now, and what Aelvedaar...

...or whoever has taken possession of her...

...is planning to do with her..."

Trailing, Shayla shuddered, clearly recalling what one other Dark Lord had done to her friend and chosen sister, all for his own gain.

She was the only sister Shayla had ever known. She wouldn't stand for her to have to endure such a thing again...

...not if there was any possible way she could stop it...

Lancaster's groaning jarred her back into reality.

"Is it morning...already...?" he growled.

Shayla got to her feet even as he sat up, sleep still in his eyes as he blinked at the growing brightness of the sun.

"Yes, it is morning, and time is wasting while we sit. II don't know exactly what this is that my senses are guiding us to...

...but I feel strongly that getting there will lead us to some answers, especially if we are indeed on Korriban."

Jasyn nodded, either to clear the fog from his head, reply to her, or both.

"If we hurry," she continued then, turning and beginning to walk as she once more pulled her cloak about herself, "Maybe we can actually make it to our destination in a couple of days or even less..."

He didn't know how Stargazer was handling this all so well. Granted, she was looking a little sweat-soaked herself, but she still seemed utterly composed, utterly determined...

...and quite ready to keep hiking on into the wee hours. Damn Force-user...

Scowling at this very thought, Jasyn continued to trudge on, feeling that in any moment his feet and legs might give out entirely. It was just so kriffing hot...

...but then, maybe there was hope yet. For somewhere in the distance he swore he saw...

"Hey look... water!" he exclaimed, pointing ahead of him anxiously to a pool of water which at least appeared to be ahead of them.

Shayla paused, squinting her eyes a little and looking in the direction where he pointed. Then she turned to him. "I see it," she admitted, "But I have a suspicion it's not really there."

"What do you mean, it's not there?!" Jasyn growled. "I'd know a mirage from an illusion..."

He trailed, realizing the improbability of his own words.

"It's just gotta be water..."

"Well," Stargazer answered. "Something might be ahead anyway. The nothingness seems to be coming into greater focus..."

She trailed, even as the call of some wild animal interrupted her words.

"Wh--what was that?" Jasyn queried.

"If my suspicions are right," Shayla answered, "It might be a wild tuk'ata. Evening will be approaching soon. Let's see if we can get to whatever you're seeing ahead of us."

"Yeah," Jasyn responded, realizing just how dry his mouth was, "And before we become some creature's dinner, if possible..."

...but Shayla pressed on, one silent EE employee and one grumbling one in tow. The desert stretched on and on before them...

...and even she had to admit she was starting to get very famished and very fatiqued.

"Kriffing hell," Lancaster growled from behind her, "I thought you said we were close. We need rest...

...and did I mention some sustence and water would be nice???"

Shayla didn't turn to look at him, but perhaps for the first time she seemed to sag ever the slightest. "The nothingness may be close," she started out, "Or perhaps it is just very large. Either would account for me being able to sense it so well."

"Well, now is a fine time for you to mention that!" Jasyn muttered. "I'm stopping for the evening, and that's final."

Shayla stopped in her tracks, and sighed. She didn't turn to face the others, just yet however. Instead she spoke directly to the Eye:

If we follow the wind much longer with the little food and food and water we have managed to find...

...we will die. What would you have me do, in my humanness, to both endure this journey and fullfill my reason...

...and my companion's reasons...

...for being here at the same time...?

The wind carries much, and there is much to be carried. Seek not the black river, you are not ready. There are those there who wait for you, and though for some it is through friendship and hope, for another it is hope of an evil vein.

The wind circled around Shayla, stirring up the dust around her ankles. The barren landscape before them offered no comfort, and the wind seemed to moan its uncaring lament to the weary travelers.

Look to the wind, it offers you solace. Listen to the wind, it leads you onward to hope.

But if it is not to the Black river that you lead me, then where? she couldn't help but ask the Eye. If I am on the planet which I believe I may be, then there is not much else here...

...so what is it that there can be for me to find...?

What in the name of all the gods was this...???

Something--a mix of both an unforseen pull and a simple curiosity--drew her hands to that metal. Stooping to the ground, she reached, unsurprised to find that when she touched that metal it had grown incredibly hot beneath the sun's rays. She gave it a good pull...

...and it began to move beneath her touch. Still, she couldn't quite get it to budge...

Behind her, she scarcely heard the sounds of foot against sand.

"What the kriffing hell..." came a low whisper from behind her, causing her to almost jump...

...almost. She turned and looked directly into the widened and curious eyes of Jasyn Lancaster, her very countenance reading that he should hold his tongue, at least until they figured out just what was going on.

"Help me pull this up," she mouthed more than spoke. The EE employee scowled ever the slightest, but then squatted, coming to assistance as asked. In only a few moments the metal began to completely give way...

Answers, and indeed, new questions await you. Here lie the remains of a desperate plan, one that crosses paths with another laid in motion 4 millennia ago. Here you shall find horrors, but you shall also find shelter and sustenance.

Shayla looked up a moment to the EE employee. "I think the Eye has just lead us to food and water...

...and something else as well. We're going to have a look."

And with no further adieu than that, Shayla climbed down into the metal tube, descending the ladder. The EE employees followed, and after a surprisingly lengthy climb downward, they reached the bottom of the ladder where they were greeted by a metallic door.

Lancaster's eyebrow shot up in curiousity, and his hand strayed to his blaster holster, his eyes suddenly growing very alert as if to say "If we're going in, I'm ready."

Shayla hesitated another moment, a chill racing up her spine. This place had the feeling of...

...well, of death.

"Well?" Jasyn repeated, this time much more quietly.

Shayla firmed, reached for the latch to the door...

...which responded by immediately opening at her slight touch, revealing a laboratory-like room full of metal tables and sterile-looking instruments and test tubes...

...along with several lifeless Kaminoan bodies.

"Oh kriffing hell..." Jasyn muttered.

Shayla's greeny-blue eyes were wide, and for the moment she found herself frozen in place.

This is has something to do with whatever Roan was doing with Galen, doesn't it? she queried to the Eye, willing her feet to move even as she awaited its response.

This is Khar Delba! There is nothing on Khar Delba; it is yet dead… she wondered to herself with growing perplexity. There is nothing on Khar Delba but the Great Temple and perhaps a few Noghri.

What in the name of Khaandon has happened here?

She sat back, flicking the screen back into normal mode as her eyes continued to argue with her memories. In front of her the images shrank at a high rate of speed as if some camera was being pulled back, until at last the rim of the planet itself crept into view. The arc of its curvature tightened until the entirety of Khar Delba was finally shown against its backdrop of stars, which then in turn diminished to mere specks against millions of others.

Now her attention was drawn to a particularly ordered pattern of those specks, which hovered easily above and below the planet in twin planes, both parallel to the planet’s equator. She leaned forward again, reaching out and laying one slim finger upon the screen to trace an invisible connecting line upon those dots.

And who is this? she wondered to herself, not for the life of her recognizing what she was seeing or recalling any memories in regard to them, yet instinctively realizing the dots were more than apparent arrangements of stars.

Her frown deepened.

Very well then…

Now her hands swept across the control panel as she sent the warship forth. It moved across the remaining light-year or so of kilometers with a lazy grandness, the aura it carried upon its back clearly revealing the fact that it had no time for any possible delay by unknown specks. Soon it was close enough where the signatures of those specks were actively picked up by the cyberbiotic attention of the ship itself; it was in the process of flashing myriad glyphs and warnings regarding the Imperial blockade when—

When everything went black. Graysith jerked in surprise, her fingers dancing in near-frenzy upon the controls.

A chronotic shield!

Indeed, such blackness could be caused by nothing else and created by none other than Aelvedaar—but why?

She sighed and sat back, knowing she could do nothing until he released her from its protection. At length a tiny smile crept across her features.

At least he knew she had returned.

With that knowledge, she was content.

And it was time to be introduced…

A soft heat spread from the tip of the channeler, sending its warmth through Graysith’s cloak. The feeling was gentle, soothing, and as he felt her thoughts turn to more relaxing images, he spoke in her mind. His voice was calm, smooth, yet focused and unwavering.

“Good day, dear lady. It is I, your most humble – and loyal – servant. Good tidings.”

Lancaster turned to her, his brow slightly cocked. "And what of this place? And Galen?" he queried.

"What has been done to her has been done," she replied, restating what the Eye had already spoken to her. "What matters is that she is no longer here and that the Eye has given us direction to follow. Judging by the appearances of things, I would make one of two assumptions: either she managed to somehow escape, probably with assistance considering both the security of this place and the number of deaths...

...or that someone else broke in and took her from here. Considering that Phalomir thought he saw her in his Dark Canyon, I tend to lean towards the former. That places her on Korriban in an escape scenario, and that sounds like a very plausible place for Roan to hide his quarry."

Quieting a moment at this, Shayla simply let her words soak in. Then...

...and about the consistency of synthboard.

Grimacing at that, Jasyn took a drink out of the canteen of water he held in his hands. On his back, as well as the others, was a backpack with more water, medical supplies...

...and a few Kaminoan stun darts. Though not deadly as were the species' poison darts, they might prove helpful in a bind, and Jasyn had no qualms using them. Not that he expected to run into anyone on this ball of sand and fire...

"How do we know when we are... there?" Jasyn called up to Stargazer, who was a few steps ahead of both he and Jasyn.

...but above all those things came the images of two loved ones, one whom sha had unwillingly left behind and another whom she had been parted from without her knowledge and against her will...

...and Shayla knew down deep that it was much the same with Graysith. The Graysith she knew would have never left her somewhere to die...

...but she had been left here at the behest of...

...well, whomever or whatever had apparently possessed Graysith.

Shayla frowned at this thought, now speaking to the Eye as something occurred to her. Is it to the Black Canyon which you are leading us now? she started with. If so, I find it strange...

...and even deeply troubling...

...that someone who had the desire to possess Graysith would leave us within a few days walk of the place on a planet as large as the one I believe we are on...

...for this is Korriban, is it not? Surely if we have been deposited so closely to such a place there must be some dark intent at play...

She paused at that a moment, pursing her lips as this dark thought roiled about in her mind. Then, And if it is not to the Black Canyon which you lead us...

...and the skies darker. Though the sun had been beating down upon them, there suddenly seemed to be a certain chill in the air...

...and sand flew about before them and behind them. Shayla wrapped her purple cloak more tightly about herself.

"We're going to have to stop, dammit!" Jasyn yelled over the now-howling wind. "I think we're about to experience the equivalent of a Tatooine sand storm."

"No!" Shayla called back as she then scanned the landscape--or rather, sandscape--before them. "We need to get to higher ground," she then stated, pointing in front of her to where a great sort of sand dune beckoned, its peak looking inviting. And then she pressed onward. "Hurry!" she persisted.

And even as they did, the winds seemed to increase, somehow pushing her forward til she seemed to reach the apex of the dune...

...and then just as suddenly, the wind settled to the gentle whisp it had been back when she and the others had found the entrance to the hidden Kaminoan laboratory.

Shayla stopped midstep, and her eyes widened as she looked about herself. A frozen image of a day long past but only recently remembered flashed across her mind's eye, one of a Sith beckoning to her.

A strange sort of de ja vu overcame her.

"My gods," she whispered, "There's something familiar about this place..."

And in the meantime a voice deep inside of her cried out to the Eye: What is this place?

Strangeness.

Now curiousity got the better of her, pushing the momentary stab of fear into a protective envelope of sorts where it could be readily assessed later. Now all her attention was focused on the soft glow of the thing she wore at her hip.

What is this? she wondered, entranced by its beauty as well as by the power inherent within its gracile frame. Trembling a little, she let one slender finger trace its outline, coming to a halt at its razor-sharp tip.

Only then did she realize that the words in her head were not thoughts of her own.

She gasped, flung her head up, looked about herself, her eyes wide and searching.

Nothing. Only the reassuring familiarity of the bridge of the ship, and the viewport which yet displayed a blackness beyond that of the fabric of spacetime.

She gulped, spoke up in a whisper.

"Who is it that speaks to me?" she asked, partly in wonder, partly in fear, but goaded primarily by utter curiosity. She hadn't been picked to be the Chosen Daughter for nothing, after all.

The glow shifted to a slight blue around the edge, adding a soft light to the red light shining from the jewels near the tip, and a feeling of soft warmth flowed from the whole device.

It glowed warmly in her hand, soothing away any final hesitation she might have felt toward it.

“Tell me, T'elion de R’lous,” she said softly, changing her hands to where one grasped the channeler by it’s handle, the other moving to brush up and down its length lightly. That hand, her right one, stopped at the sharp, engraved tip, where the Claw of S’slan fingered it, testing its keenness.

“How do you know me? When have we become acquaintances? I have no knowledge of you, no memory. My dear Sire has made no mention of you to me, nor has my love Lord Wicked; are you of Sith origin or other?”

She fell silent with that, her gaze now straying to the Claw affixed to her finger, and absently wondered how she had come to be in possession of that little item as well.

"Are you allright?" Stanza queried.

"Yes," Shayla replied, "But we're going to have to change our strategy now. The Eye insists that only one of us proceed on; the other two of us should stay back behind to act as a lifeline to the one who goes on. We're being lead to the former location of Valley of the Dark Lords--

--but what if it could also make you a target for whatever or whomever might lie ahead? You've already stated how highly convenient it is that we were deposited on Korriban, and if we are as close to the Valley as the Eye seems to make it appear--

--maybe there is some dark intent behind the reason we were left in this location. I'm thinking maybe you should ahhh...

--and also related Stanza's misgivings concerning her decision.

The EE employee raises some viable points, she then thought to the Eye, Would it indeed be a wise thing for me to proceed onward with you on my person...

The sprit sat silent for a brief moment.

“My dear lady,” it said softly at last. “I can bear this no longer. It pains me to tell you these things, but much has happened… much indeed… since the day of your last memory.”

The glow from the jewels shifted to a light blue.

“My dear lady, what I have to tell will bring you much shock and despair, please do not think ill of me for being the messenger. Your sire, the Dark Lord Aelvedaar, has deceived you. He has used you in a game of dominance for the galaxy, causing you great pain and suffering, both emotionally and physically, in bringing the Sith forward in time to where we are now. Since then he has misled you, lied to you, and manipulated you and those you care for. Even now, your closest friends are in a struggle to fight him and the terrible Lord Roan, to save you – and your sister.”

Another brief silence.

Lord Wicked was dead.

Her mouth dropped open. She shook her head, slowly, from side to side, and dropped the channeler as if it was poison.

”No,” she breathed, the words moist and thick with sudden tears. ”Say it is not so. My love… he cannot be dead. You lie; he lives! He is safe, hidden away; for he has sent me to—

“To…”

The denial choked to a halt in her throat as a sudden quandary burst through burning pain.

Why was she where she was? How had she come to be in the great warship; indeed, where had the warship come from to begin with? What was this ship? There were none such on Khar Delba, the last ship she remembered was the small but highly modified TIE fighter of her dear love. It was not Sith—

Where had that thought come from? Was this ship Sith? Had it something to do with the fact that Khar Delba now lived?

What happened?

She closed her eyes, imprinting the questions on her inner lids for later referral. Then heaving a shuddering sigh she loosened her clenched fists, leaned forward and regarded the channeler in silence. It lay on the decking at her feet, its responding silence almost that of rebuke for her treatment of it.

“How—“

The word was spoken no louder than a whimper; she swallowed and tried again.

“How am I to trust you, to believe what you say? What proof is there for me to go by? My dear Sire would no longer hurt me than I would him; how am I to know that what you now tell me is truth and not some foul attempt at deception?

...then in that same moment, a certain sort of almost eerie calmness swept over her.

This was how it had to be, and she was fully and completely ready to except that.

"It has to be me," she then said silently to the patiently waiting Matt Stanza. He remained unmoving for but a second, then nodded.

"Very well," he replied, glancing down then into the decline below them. "Shall we continue on now?"

"Yes," Shayla responded. "The Eye says we will arrive at the base of the Canyon by tomorrow. But first..."

Shayla trailed, closing her eyes for a moment then raising a hand to ward off the oncoming questions as she refocused her gaze on them. "I feel that now is the time I must establish a mind link with both of you."

Quieting at that, she gave both men a few seconds to pose any objections. Neither did...

...although Lancaster did seem a little hesitant about this, perhaps a bit wary. Shayla smiled. "You will not be affected in any manner by the link...

...that is, until the time comes when I find it necessary to use it."

He pursed his lips a moment, then nodded briefly. "Just do it."

She returned the nod, and then simply closed her eyess, reaching out with the Force to open two mind links...

...one with Matt Stanza, and one with Jasyn Lancaster. The connection took her a few brief minutes to firmly establish, a few brief minutes which she did not want to waste once they reached the base of the canyon. Even as she felt the links snap into place, Shayla opened her eyes once more.

"Now," she said, her greeny blue eyes meeting with each pair of the men's eyes. "It is time."

Trust.

She jerked upright, yanking back the hand that was just about to grasp the channeler and draw it to her once more, and cradled it protectively in her other.

“Memories…” she began slowly, letting her heart pound in her chest and not trying one whit to force away the fresh wave of pain and hurt and bewilderment now rushing through her.

“How do I know that my memories were not taken by you, and that you wish to replace them with something other, although for what reason and purpose I cannot fathom unless it is for this—“

She trailed into ominous silence then, her eyes darkening dangerously even as the Glyph on her brow began to raven up the electromagnetic spectrum beyond that which was visible. It filled the atmosphere around her with its crackling strength, even as it filled her with a wonder equally as fierce.

Indeed… she didn’t remember having this much of what she thought she was yet learning at her command.

Her lip curled in a slight snarl of self-satisfaction and she stretched out one foot, and with one quick movement kicked the channeler almost disdainfully.

“Speak, and give me reason to believe you. Otherwise I shall take you to my dear Sire, who most certainly will explain away such quandaries for me.”

“Dear lady,” it said. “I understand how this has upset you, and I wish there was a way to bring back that trust. But truly, if you mean to return to that deceitful monster Aelvedaar, then discard me. He will surely try to harness my powers for his own gain, and our time together shall have been in vain. But look, dear lady, upon your very finger. From where did that object come? And the markings upon your wrist, from where did they arrive? Do you recall your days as Dark Lady? Lord Recinis? The birth of your children? Your later marriage to Lord Phalomir? Please, dear lady, please do not cast aside your life so easily. Aelvedaar has imprisoned many of your closest allies, has allied himself with demons, and has now sealed you away for safe keeping with your mind reset to a time when you were docile and loyal to him.”

The pulsing stopped, leaving just a soft dull red glow.

...not that he particularly liked that either. But at least one could dress for the cold...

"How much further down can this damn canyon go," Jasyn finally growled, looking downward into the expanse of canyon below them. "I thought we were supposed to..."

Stopping short, Jasyn froze, not even noticing that his two companions had done much the same, the same sort of awe painted on their faces. For the fact of the matter was that there was no canyon below them. Instead there was, well...

...nothing.

Jasyn struggled to pick his jaw up off the nonexistent ground of the canyon to blat forth the explicatives burning on his lips. "What the kriffing hell...???!!!" he managed at last, glancing over to Stargazer. She had, unnervingly enough, gathered her wits about herself. By the look now on her face one would think that it was an every day event to come upon a huge canyon of total blackness and total emptiness.

Damn the Jedi and their kriffing calm...

She really had no means of knowing, one way or another, whether what the channeler spoke of was really the truth or not.

She glowered a bit longer at the thing, and then stood up.

“Very well,” she said simply, now leaning down to pick it up from the deck where she had dropped it. It lay in her hand, throbbing a dull red, yet still managed to send out a modicum of warmth toward her. That warmth immediately filled her hand, and began spreading slowly up her arm.

“I would be foolish indeed to deny any information having any bearing on me,” she finally admitted, letting her fingers close tightly about the shaft of the channeler. Her eyes flicked to the strange hieroglyphic design on her wrist; she shuddered inexplicably, before returning her full attention to the thing she held in her hands.

“My dear Sire would be the first to state that,” she admitted, then pressed on.

...so they might as well be as comfortable as possible. Once the camp was set and Kaminoan nutrient bars were distributed, Shayla told the men that she would need some time to meditate. Even as Jasyn and Matt conversed back and forth and ate Shayla closed her eyes and let the peaceful energies of the Force surround her very soul. So for that brief hour, an hour in which her companions made ready to camp out for the coming evening, Shayla rested herself. When she came to herself once more she felt completely energized and rested...

...and totally at peace. Standing, she apprioached Lancaster and Stanza.

"I am ready," she said simply. "And when I am ready to return...

...you will know. So until then be wary and mindful..." She trailed, momentarily letting the barest of smiles slip, "...and make sure you have a good blaster at your side if local wildlife should happen to bother you."

Jasyn scowled at the comment, then sobered.

"I will return," Shayla stated, as if she was saying it to not merely the two men but herself as well. And with no further ado, Shayla Stargazer Petrolu Kartan turned to face that roiling nothingness...

...and placing her hand upon the hidden Eye, stood still for a moment as it radiated warmly beneath her touch.

Indeed, it was time...

This thought spurred Shayla into action. Taking a deep breath, she took a step forward, and then another...

...and somewhere in her line of sight, be it imagined or real, Shayla saw the image of a Sith beckoning to her. Soon she had lost her footing and began to gracefully fall into that darkness...

...and then Shayla disappeared into the nothingness before Jasyn and Matt's very eyes. Even as she did just that Shayla could have sworn she heard someone calling her name...

(((OCC: Follow Shayla into Behind the Black River in this same forum, thank you.)))

A vivid image appeared in Graysith’s mind of Darth Wicked. It brought her great comfort, but the scene quickly took a horrible turn as it showed his death at the hands of his father. The memory lingered, then forwarded quickly through the following days, then to the possession of Darth Wicked’s body by the evil entity Entaris, and the painful decision Graysith made in freeing his spirit.

“My dear lady,” came the voice of the channeler as the image paused. “There is much about Darth Wicked you have not shared with me, and I can only show you that which you have allowed me to see. But there is another, a Dark Lord which came to you from the past, and captured your heart. That, and the fulfillment of your destiny.”

The spirit flashed scene after scene of Lord Recinis, from the early days of his protection of the Chosen Daughter, the strange circumstances surrounding the birth of her children, the epic struggle to bring the Sith to the present time. Then came many memories of her life with Recinis, the birth of Jharu, then the eventual departure of Recinis.

The chaneller glowed softly in Graysith’s hands, reflecting off of the skin which had turned white from gripping the device for so long.

Several she wished had never come about; tears dripped from her closed eyes as there on her inner lid she watched again and again the horrific death of her first great love at the hands of one later to go by the name of Timber Saden.

She held the channeler in a death’s grip, her hand white-knuckled, nails imbedded in the palm of her hand. At length she let out a great shuddering breath, and opened her eyes. The bridge of the warship swam in her vision, distorted through the tears flooding down her face.

Married. I married… a Sith. I birthed halfling children. My husband is—is—

Not him.

Turquoise eyes floated in front of her, a rare smile flashed to fill her with warmth. She recalled a vivid day, a brief and shining encounter… then once again scrutinized the image of another day of joy and laughter.

My son… and my.. .

Darkness descended, bringing with it the image of a fire-headed young woman.

My daughter?

She sniffed, wondering where they were, which brought her full circle to the quandary of where she was now. How she had come to be there. Who could she trust.. and who not.

How can I trust anyone, when I cannot even trust in my own memories? When indeed I have none to trust in at all.

Another shudder raked her slight frame, and she tilted her head forward, letting her long hair flame down to brush upon the channeler. It tingled in her hand, glowing softly.

“If what you show me is true,” she finally said slowly, “then I have it within me to stand up to whatever dire image you have yet to reveal.”

Indeed the worst had passed… Lord Wicked was dead.

“Continue, spirit, and tell me all you know.”

Something other.

Graysith jerked her head up with a start, dropping the Channeler from her hand as she did so. The Glyph on her forehead ravened to life of its own accord, reaching out to find the source of that eerie rip and to then guide her to it. She moved quickly forward then, leaving the still-glowing device lying by itself on the deck of the bridge, and hurried off following the guidance of the All.

It led her to a new surprise: the body of a red-skinned, fearsomely horned being, who lay in a nearby corridor as if asleep. There was something about the aspect of this one that did not denote restful slumber, however; going quickly to his side she knelt there, letting the Glyph bathe his form in soft ultraviolet light. She studied him a few moments before reaching out a somewhat hesitant hand, then grasped him by his muscled shoulder and grunting a little turned him from his side to his back.

She sat back on her haunches and cocked her head to one side, studying his features in a silence to match his own. While obviously alien to her race, his exotic features held a strange fascination for her; he was not as hard-chiseled as was her dear Sire, but attractive nevertheless. Again she reached out to him, this time to lightly touch his cheek, and wondered to herself who he was and how he had come to be where he was.

It was then that the strange ripping sensation strengthened, built, thrummed into being everywhere and no where, sending ice cascading down her spine even as she whirled about to discern what this new and possible danger could be.

There behind her whirled a black and oily vortex, and from its center there issued forth a dripping and clutching claw. Freakish laughter gibbered from somewhere… other; Graysith had scarcely the time to leap to her feet, there to crouch in a ready stance, when the vortex pursed its figurative lips and spit forth three horrors from hell scarcely three meters from her position in front of the silent and extremely vulnerable Sith.

The sound of stomping feet marching in swift cadence brought me out of my self-imposed stupor, a state of despair and overwhelming hopelessness I had allowed myself to sink in to ever since awakening to find myself in a place frighteningly strange…

But even more so, frighteningly familiar.

The chamber was dark and looming, heavy with shadows, weighed down with time, and positively overburdened by an unseen yet palpable evil that sent immediate squadrons of geese to marching up and down my back, their feet placing tiny pinpricks of cold where they trod and raising the skin there. But it wasn’t the shadows alone that frightened me so.

It was the strange crystalline object standing in what I instinctively sensed to be the exact center of the room, the vortices joining its eight faces pointing to the four cardinal points of the compass and their subsets. The structure was as transparent as the most finely poured glass, and roiled with something greeny-gold and somehow difficult to look upon.

I had seen this somewhere before… at least I thought I had.

It was then that the shadows gained corporeality, and a hand fell abruptly upon my shoulder, razored claws sinking into my flesh and drawing blood. I gasped, and would have whirled about in terror but the action was obligingly completed for me by the hand which held me in a death’s grip. I was whirled about like so much flotsam, and brought back to jarring immobility by another hand which snagged my free shoulder and dug in with rapacious glee.

Amber eyes glared down upon me.

”Welcome, my dear Galen Jhin’Dar Danner,” a voice of silk and decay whispered in my ear, even as another shadow loomed up behind me and yet another pair of clawed hands took a grip on me.

That was when everything went black… for how long, I haven’t the foggiest notion. But when I came back to awareness it was to find myself a prisoner in a room of overwhelming luxury, silks and fireplace and bed-curtains and all. The little fact that the door had no handle, and that the heavy velvet draperies opened onto solid, moss-enscribed stone only transformed my initial sense of hope into immediate despair, which remained with me throughout the timelessness that passed as I was held in this golden prison.

Until now…

I was sitting on the bed when suddenly something whirled into black being in front of me, and a red-eyed Sith leapt out in front of me. He had two people by their throats: another Sith, who kicked and struggled like a madman, and a human male, who appeared pale and unbreathing, his eyes closed.

A human who was way too familiar…

“Erik?!” I breathed in complete shock, too surprised at the moment to do much more than just sit on my bed where I was. Then reflex took over and I was leaping off and racing the few meters across the room to catch him before his head hit the cold stone of the floor.

The vortex closed off, holding its secrets to itself.

It took the red-eyed one with it.

I just sat here, staring down at the last person in the Universe I expected to see, much less find myself holding, while his red-skinned, horned companion groaned and sat up, shaking his head as if to clear it of some thick and miasmic fog.

As soon as Erik took the first step into that yawning vortex, every nerve in his body screamed a warning that said something was horribly wrong. But then, not being a fully trained Jedi, this sort of feeling did little other than let one know that there was going to be Hell on the way. Would have been nice to have had this feeling a few moments before everythign went totally black...

...but the next thing Erik became slowly aware of was that his eyes were closed, his head was throbbing...

...and someone was calling his name. Equally as slowly someone's concerned...

...and gentle touch began to register. That jarred Erik back into reality even though he wasn't quite ready to leap into the action his body was wanting to.

"Shayla?" he groaned, lifting heavy eyelids and blinking them a few times to clear the fog. He frowned a bit.

Since when did Shayla have short red hair? Either whatever hit you hit you harder than even you suspected or...

With effort Erik sat up, shaking his head to clear the fuzziness from his line of sight. His eyes locked on the brown-eyed, red headed woman who sat before him, even as one hand went to his still throbbing head.

"Galen?!" he said in surprise. "We've been looking everywhere for you...

“Erik, oh Roon’s Treasure, but am I ever glad to see you!”

I flung my arms about his neck, propriety be damned, and hugged him fiercely.

“I didn’t think anyone would ever figure out where I was, let alone manage to sneak in here and rescue me!”

I pulled back from him with that little outburst, and held him stiff-armed by his shoulders. The sheer joy of having him here – ok, his strange companion as well – took hold of me and sent me winging away into the imagined prospect of immediate delivery from this charming hell. That joy quickly subsided, however, as his last question finally sank into my shell-shocked brain.

Concern wrinkled my forehead into a frown.

“I—I thought you knew… that you had found me and came to—“

Logic marched steadily to its obvious conclusion; I sighed, loosening my grip on his shoulders and sat back on my heels. With a flick of my eyes I took in the fearsome image of his companion, then I focused them back on the jedi again.

“I think we’re somewhere on Khar Delba,” I said in a low whisper, shivering as the squadron of geese began their inexorable march up and down my spine again.

“H-he, him, that blight on the universe Roan brought me here, left me here with the one my sister used to hang out with; he’s got another little sidekick with him now, I think; here I thought Jharmeen had found me and had sent you to get me…”

I trailed off again, reading what I most feared to see in his eyes.

“She didn’t, did she?”

With that I wound down like an antique clock and slumped, letting my hands fall to my lap where they lay like a pair of wounded birds.

Thoran watch Phalomir run up the hill, followed by Rhua and Terrin. He started to follow, but then paused, a yellow light – a strange sight in this realm – caught his attention. Off to the right of his position, at the top of the next hill, was the unmistakable figure of Roan. He was standing with three imps, jibbering madly and seeming to work themselves into a sort of frenzy. Roan was working his hands, and a small sliver of yellow light had appeared in the air before him.

He’s opening a portal out of here, thought Thoran. He glanced back up to see his companions reach Phalomir the top of the top of hill, only to see the Sith lord yell an obscenity and dash off down the other side. Is all some sort of diversion? A strange, unfamiliar feeling of uncertainty crept over him, a feeling so alien to him he immediately squelched it. Oh, damn this freedom, anyway!

Thoran took off at full speed towards Roan. He had learned long ago how to manipulate the spring of this strange terrain, and half of the distance was covered by the time the bright yellow sliver had grown into a large circle. He reached the top of the hill just as the last of the demons stepped through the circle, and with all of his strength and momentum he ran full force into Roan. Taken off guard, Roan stumbled backwards a few steps and lost his balance for a moment. Thoran was knocked to the ground at the place of impact, but gained his bearings enough to see the sight beyond the portal.

It’s Phalomir’s body! And Graysith? She doesn’t look possessed. What the—

A savage snarl came from the area where Roan had staggered, and Thoran forced himself to action. He yelled out an earsplitting cry of “Phalomir!” towards the other hill, and dove for the opening. He aimed for the space between two of the imps, meaning to land on top of Phalomir’s body.

But Thoran was a shade. His body had been taken from him long ago when he first became a denizen of the Darker Realms. When he met the Master and became a servant of the Darker Realms, he was given the ability to project himself into the bodies of others, either tagging along or completely swapping his consciousness with the hapless victim’s spirit. He had resided in the mind of Panthar Dantares with Phalomir’s spirit for quite some time, and it was this thought that entered Thoran’s mind as he landed on top of Phalomir and merged into his body.

Phalomir’s eyes snapped open and he jumped to his feet as smoothly as a well-trained warrior. Outwardly, Phalomir assumed a battle stance, claws bared and horns lowered, eyes blazing. Inwardly, Thoran relished in the control of this massive body. Thoran’s own magick was nothing compared to Phalomir’s, but his warrior training would serve well in this huge Sith.

“Be ready, my lady,” he said, smiling inwardly. Those words sound even more corny when I say them.

He smiled grimly at the confused demons and waved a single curled finger at them, inviting them to close.

The last time he had been on Khar Delba...

...he had left his prematurely born son here, and not for the recovery he had hoped. Instead he was here in nothing short of a living death...

With effort he jerked away from such thoughts, refocusing his somewhat hazy brown eyes on Galen's own. "No," he replied a bit darkly, "The last time I saw Her she betrayed my wife and turned her away, much to Shayla's disbelief."

He quieted a moment at that, his look darkening once more before he refocused them again. "Shayla and I had gone off with a Sith by the name of Phalomir to some Sith planet called Korri'sian to find something Phalomir was looking for. It's a long story, but the the four of us were split up and I was left on the planet with..."

At this Erik trailed, just now realizing he had yet to introduce his companion. He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "This is Panthar Dantares, by the way."

Then he quieted once more, trying to figure out just where to go from here. "We were back in the Temple on Korri'sian when we came up on some weird crystal which allowed us to communicate with some red-eyed Sith by the name of Aeolmir. Judging from the fact he dumped us off here, and what little I know about Shayla's suspicions regarding Graysith's buddy you mentioned...

...Ael something, isn't it?...

...I think we're in some serious trouble."

That was the understatement of the year, Kartan.

“You can try, but you won’t find a way out of here, believe me,” I finally said, flipping back my hair with a toss as I then lifted my face to address Erik. “I’ve scoured every inch of this chamber with a fine-toothed comb; there isn’t so much as a crack big enough for a gleeberfly to creep through, let alone a person.”

I ran a hand tiredly through my hair, smiling a bit shakily as I now sent Erik’s towering companion a cautious look.

Sheesh, what in Hell’s Seven Circles kind of name is that for a Sith? I wondered tiredly to myself before, with a jerk, I yanked my wandering thoughts back in hand once again. I opened my mouth, and was about to say something as equally profound to what I had just offered, when once more the utterly unexpected occurred. A sudden vortex, similar to the one that had spit out my equally sudden companions, opened from thin air, and spit yet another improbable person into our midst.

My eyes widened and I leapt to my feet, instantly recognizing the haughty female who used to hang around with Jharmeen, back in the good ol’ days of Phrinnchatka. She hit the floor in a graceful roll, while behind her the vortex snapped closed and disappeared as if it had never even been there.

He looked to Shayla.

He looked to Erik.

He looked back to Shayla.

“Somehow I don’t think you’ve come to rescue us,” he said bluntly. “Good to see you though. Thought we’d lost you for good.”

He looked back to Galen.

“Damn glad to meet you, by the way,” he smiled. “Any friend of Erik has my sympathy. So, you’re Jarmint’s sister, eh?”

He looked back to Shayla.

A compromise of sorts was thus made.

She wasn’t even aware of the fact that the Glyph on her forehead had burst into radiant life; she was likewise scarcely aware that one hand had lifted in graceful defense, thumb and middle fingers curled and joined, index and little fingers extended like horns directly at the three gibbering demons. But lift her arm she had, and from those extended fingers there now issued the simultaneous eruption of something twining both white and black. It burst from her, hitting the nearest demon squarely, and wrapped the vile creature tightly in a black that would not fade before the white, or a white that would not darken before the black. Tighter and tighter the twin ribbons of something bound themselves until suddenly the demon seemed to implode, leaving tiny blackened blots upon the deck which soon dematerialized altogether.

Graysith smiled, both in wonder at herself and in the dark pleasure of having killed an enemy. She then slid her shining violet eyes to the battle-ready alien at her side.

“These are yours, friend,” she whispered from the side of her mouth, smiling even more with the realization that by her unconscious defeat of one demon, she had sent a not-so-subtle message of her strength to this one.

If friend indeed he proves to be….

Shayla was on her feet just as soon as she could get there, her greeny-blue eyes alert and ready for whatever she was about to face...

...when a room with three rather astounded looking individuals swam into focus...

...probably the last three individuals Shayla expected to see.

Shayla's brow furrowed in confusion. Erik...?

...Panthar...?

...

...Galen?" she trailed a moment with the as her eyes met the owner of that last name, clearly reading the feelings therein. After all, no effort was made at masking those feelings. "We've been looking for you for so long...

...are you allright?"

Quieting a moment with this, Shayla kept her eyes focused on Galen Jhin'Dar Danner a moment longer. Then, "And how in the fates did we all get here together...

...and just where exactly is here?" she queried even as Erik came to her, concern in his eyes. Her greeny-blues met his, a fire igniting in them. "Roan sent me here from the Dark realms," she explained then, the fire in her eyes darkening to clear suspicion, "And judging from where it looks like we might be...

...I think I know why."

“Phal?” I queried, “As in Phal-omir?” Reminding myself of our situation, I suffixed that comment with a shake of my head and continued.

“I never did like her much,” I whispered from the side of my mouth as I nodded toward the unflappable blond, then sniffed aloud and cleared my throat.

“Then, pray tell, educate us all in this matter,” I said, unconsciously mimicking the hauteur I perceived oozing from this blond young woman as, at least from my perspective, she tried to match her demeanor to that which I last remembered as being my sister's.

“I for one would sure as there’s Treasure on Roon like to know.”

Thoran came to his feet facing the imps. The first had stopped twitching, it’s innards flung throughout the corridor. They began to smoke and dissolve as the body of the imp dissipated into the air. The second imp grasped at the hole the tail had left in its underside and looked to Thoran with hate.

“You know me,” Thoran said flatly. “Take us back to Roan and I will spare you.”

Here we go again...

"I have something both Roan and Aelvedaar are looking for," she said then, seeing no reason to be anything but frank. Still, Shayla didn't know what Galen might know concerning what she was referring to, and she wasn't certain if they truly had the time for her to explain...

...so she then let her gaze shift to Erik, then Panthar. If anyone knew what she was talking to and might have conveyed it to anyone else in this room, it was him.

He started to say something and stopped, blinking again.

He took in a deep breath and paused, holding it in.

Finally, he shook his head and fixed his face in a confused expression.

“Why?” he asked. “How did you get it?”

“Well… goody for you!” I spat, folding my arms across my chest and spread-eagling my legs for balance. My sheer bravado was tinged by a shadow of pure puzzlement; I flicked my eyes to the Sith and cocked my head, wondering to myself if he knew more than he was letting on at the moment.

Oh c’mon, Galen ol’ spud, I followed immediately to myself. Of course he knows more than he’s letting on….

What concerned me, though, was the serendipity over how in Hell’s Seven Circles these two not only seemed to know of each other, but of this Eye-thingy as well.

And what in all the Fates did that have to do with me? Or…

A cold inspiration sent those geese marching up and down my back again.

Or… Darra?

“I do not believe this... thing is going to listen to you,” she stated, waving the Clawed hand toward the wounded demon from hell. Then—

"Graysith, and Phalomir and I were on our way to Korriban, where we thought you were," Shayla explained, nodding to Galen. "We were in hyperdrive in a Sith warship when we suddenly fell out, were nearly zapped into atomic particles by an unnatural supernova...

...and then found some sort of strange bomb aboard the warship. Phalomir managed to defuse the bomb...

...but it did something to him. I tried my best to heal him...

...but it was as if his very spirit had been simply...

... burned away..."

She trailed, shuddering at the thought. Then she continued. "We were just about to move Phalomir's body to a more appropriate resting place when the Eye spoke to me once Graysith was away and told me that I should remove it from Phalomir's person. It told me that some evil presence had taken over her body...

...and the next thing I knew she had somehow drugged myself, Jasyn Lancaster, and Matt Stanza and left us all for dead on Korriban."

The comment was admittedly childish, but at the moment I was feeling very much like a lost and lonely child myself. I sighed, and slumped to the floor, where I sat cross-legged with my arms held stiffly behind me to brace myself as I stretched my face upward and back, baring my throat to any invisible enemy that could march down the pike and rip into it.

That explanation doesn’t really surprise me in the least, I thought to myself blackly as I studied the ceiling arcing high over our heads.

If that bastard Roan and Jharmeen’s old pal Ael-whoosis are out on the hunt for this Eye-thingy, what on earth am I imprisoned here for as well?

Another sigh slid from me and I closed my eyes, this time not deigning to say anything but letting the other two fill the air with their discussion about the Eye…

… and not to mention their highly impossible suggestions concerning the means by which they thought we might actually escape from this golden cell.

I STILL don’t what in the name of the seven moons of Noba he ever saw in her. Oh, gee, what would he say to her now… hmmm… probably spout off some sickeningly sweet drippy romantic crap and trounce this bad ass demon into oblivion. Let’s see, ‘sweet lady, I am humbled by your presence…’ naw, how about ‘my life is to serve you…’, oh friggin’ hell

“Stow it, toots.”

Thoran, without warning, threw Phalomir’s massive frame into motion. He spun into a roundhouse kick that caught the unprepared demon squarely below the jaw. The head snapped back, ripping a tear in the scales around the throat. As the imp struggled to remain upright, Thoran struck his claws under a scale and dug into the demon’s throat, pulling away viciously and coming out with bits of trachea.

The imp dissipated.

Thoran turned back to Graysith, a frown on his face.

“Now, what’s with this ‘friend’ crap? Don’t you know who I am?”

Stow it… toots?!

The remaining demon had scarcely vanished into the hell from whence it had come before she whirled to fully face the giant Sith, her hands fisted, the Glyph ablaze with effrontery, trembling with the effort to hold herself ramrod stiff and not rip savagely into this pompous dewback.

No matter how exotic and enticing was his physical frame.

With a sniff she managed to straighten even further, somehow seeming to gain full inches in the maneuver; gradually her hands loosened and found a place in the folds of her cloak. The electric silence of the corridor was broken by a quiet pinging as the thumb of one hidden hand toyed with unseen menace upon the tip of the Claw, a weapon she did not recognize but one she instinctively felt to be one any sane person would reckon with.

From its lonely place upon the deck of the bridge, the other mystical device seemed to thrum with distant warmth, but no color burst from it to light the corridor in warning.

“No, I do not know who you are… friend,” she stated succinctly.

"Should I?"

“Hey,” he said, “you probably don’t know what the Eye is, do you?”

Galen’s blank look told him his answer.

“Well, see, it’s this magic Sith crystal thing that has lots of power. I found it while digging in a cave on – did I tell you I’m an archeologist? Yeah, well, anyway, I was digging around in this cave and found this chamber, and on the floor was this crystal. I picked it up, got hit by some weird energy, and when I came to I was sharing my mind with two other guys! And I wasn’t in control all the time, it was pretty strange. Well, anyway, once I got to know Phalomir, he was OK. Thoran was a little kooky, though. We went through some adventures together, the Eye helped Phal get his body back, although Thoran kept mine and ran off with it. I got stuck in this Sith body, and let me tell you I can’t wait to get my old one back. Where was I? Oh yeah, the Eye. From what I can tell, and what Phal told me, is that it has lots of power that helps someone control the Stuff… or the Many… no, the All! Yeah, that’s that power that Jarlene and Aelvadork have.”

He looked innocently to Galen.

“Make sense now?”

If this is what shared imprisonment is going to be like, I would almost welcome being alone again...

I just shook my head a little and went back to gazing upward, finding great interest in counting the number of great stone bricks that ceiling was made of, and idly tracing my eyes along the spider-webbing of cracks that occasionally marred its otherwise perfection. Yet even as I affixed my attention there, trying to push against the rising heartache that continued roiling within me, I realized there was a kernel of sense in this guy's seemingly wild ramblings.

Not saying anything, I just kept staring upward, letting that kernel nibble about in my head, like a mouse.

The All... So that's what it's called....

Thoran wiped his hand on Phalomir’s robe, then noticed that the gore had already vanished.

“Well, then allow me to introduce myself. I am Phalomir, your, um, husband… well, husband-to-be anyway. Pleased to meet you.”

It is T’elion; he speaks…

Not letting anything of this pass across her features, she merely cocked her head, her hair now tumbling out of confinement within her robe to lay in disheveled curls in front of her, nearly to her waist. She eyed the Sith once more, chewing upon her inner cheek as she considered.

I remember nothing of what is being spoken; is the one who fills me with warmth speaking the truth? My Sire will answer this question for me; meanwhile…

It came to her that there would be no harm in asking the simple question T’elion was asking. She let her gaze rake up and down Phalomir’s imposing body.

“Phalomir; the shadow of the demons has blinded me; it has been so long... how I have... missed you so."

With those words she forced herself to loosen, and stepped closer to the Sith, step by graceful step until she was intimately close to his imposing frame. She paused there, staring up into his brilliant green eyes.

"How I have missed our times together, the games we used to play. I would say thus, and you would answer so. But there was one thing, one reply I loved to hear you say to me.

"Tell me now, I yearn to hear it again:

"What is it that you would never do for me, my… husband?” she then asked sweetly, placing only the merest emphasis on the final word, as if singling it out for the perusal of some unknown and unseen personage, and all the while shooting out a query to the thrumming device still laying on the deck of the bridge.

What is the meaning behind the words you speak? If this is not the one you state will be my husband, then who is he, and how has he come to pass through a chronotic shield?

Indeed, how in fact did those horrors manage the very same thing?

There were so many things he could think of that Phal would do for her… what in the blazes would he not? Oh, come on…. Think…

...but they had to try.

"There is one thing you missed Panthar, one thing that might possibly help us. The Eye clearly does not like Aelvedaar. I have been following its guidance for some time, and I thought it was leading me to Roan in the Darker Realms...

...but then, perhaps it wasn't and was leading me here all along. I'm going to see if I can learn its intentions for us all being brought here, together..."

At this, Shayla trailed and reached out to the Eye.

I am not finding myself in the place I expected, she stated to the Eye, But I am certain there must be a reason for it if indeed I understood your guidance correctly. Still, I don't see a clear path for myself and my companions just yet...

It did not glow, it did not pulse. It remained silent and cold, an unmoving, unthinking stone. If one were to behold it, one would note it beautiful in its simplicity and clarity, but would regard it no more than an interesting crystal and dismiss it thusly.

“I don’t know,” I repeated my last thought aloud, wriggling a bit on my hiney as I pulled in my feet to sit cross-legged on the cold, stone floor. I cast a look to the fireplace; it glowered back at me in ebon disapproval of my presence there.

“A fire would be nice…”

Not really knowing what to do, I closed my eyes, concentrating on trying to recall the feelings that had passed through me those few times something had winged out from me in vibrant, ecstatic life. I thought I could remember a bare whisper of that feeling; scowling in concentration, I lifted a hand and pointed to the fireplace.

Nothing whatsoever happened.

I opened my eyes, and looked at my companions.

“If I ever did, or in fact if I do, I sure as Hell’s Seven Circles don’t know how to call on it, so…umm, well, I guess I don’t have it. I think my little Darra might…”

With that I snapped silent, lest my voice began shaking, revealing my aching heart to those in the room before I was ready for the pity I knew that would invoke. Then I leaned back once again, and directed my gaze upward to the tracery of cracks spiderwebbing the ceiling high over my head.

"Darra is my daughter. I haven't seen her since..."

...he really couldn't remember if they'd ever found out where she was. What he was certain of was if they didn't figure something out...

...well, they were going to be sitting here a reeeeeeeally long time.

At this thought, Erik couldn't help but divert his eyes upwards towards the spot on the ceiling which Galen had already been studying. Or maybe she was looking at those interestng tiny cracks up there...

...Hey wait a minute...cracks?

"Ummmm...I know this is a long shot...

...but is it possible we could use those tiny cracks in the ceiling above us to devise some sort of escape route, bust them open further to make a hole out of here or something? Like I said, it's a long shot, but that's really all I can think of just now."

Shrugging at that, his brown eyes turned thoughtful once more.

“Yeah… I think I might be able to do something with that… it’s a bit high, though. I’d need a boost of some kind.”

He looked down to Galen, who had not yet moved.

“Um,” he said meekly. “I’m sorry about Darra, I didn’t realize…”

He looked to the floor and wrung his hands together. He then looked up to Shayla.

“I like this idea, let’s make a hole. How do I get up there? Hey, what about the Eye? Do you think we can use it somehow? Damn, if you had any All in you, the Eye could maybe use it with you like it did with Phal. Remember that, Shayla? When Phal needed a little bit of All, the Eye would reach out and take it from Jharlene and knock her on her butt for a while. Heh, I remember that’s what happened when Phal killed Roan…”

“Uh, maybe I shouldn’t have said that,” he said, glancing around the room.

“So, anyway, how do I get up there?”

"Why don't you just jump?" I spat sweetly, then fell silent once more.

I leapt to my feet.

...and considered Panthar's words. The Eye had been totally silent since she had asked for its guidance, and somewhere in the back of her mind she knew why.

"I don't think calling upon the Eye would be wise since someone is seeking it out and might be able to sense it when it's active...

...and aside from that I don't believe it will respond at the moment anyway. I am however able to do telekenetics. Think you can stomach it if I lift you up there?"

“Better than I can stomach some things down here,” he said.

He looked to Shayla.

She paused a moment, sending a warning look Panthar's way. Then, "Fasten your saftey harness," she said, extending her arm so that her hand was palm-upwards. Almost instantaneously Panthar's feet began to lose contact with the floor as she gracefully made him airborne using nothing but the Force. When she felt he was close enough to the ceiling, she stopped and steadied him there.

My fists were absolutely white-knuckled; I literally grunted with renewed effort to remain where I was and not spring on this guy, giant's body, fangs, claws and horns nonwithstanding... and never mind the little fact that suddenly he was dangling in mid-air. I knew I could reach him, and then....

Oh if I only had that power Jharmeen has!

Unfortunately I didn't. I remained standing, glaring daggers from Shayla to the steadily rising Panthar, and finally mustered the control to turn quietly away from them.

"Just get me the hell out of here and away from you all, that's all I ask," I muttered to myself as I went over to the fireplace and placed a hand on the mantel. I stared blackly down upon the dead embers laying coldly in front of me there, laughingly mirroring something equally black and cold growing deep within me.

Darra....

“Why the hell was everyone so hot to find her anyway? I mean, cripes, they go trekkin’ all over the damn cosmos looking for this lady, I almost get eaten by a tuk’atum, Phal gets his life sucked out’a him, Jharlene gets possessed by a dark thing, Shayla ends up… well, back with Erik. And all for this ungrateful little... Grr!”

He pounded at the ceiling, losing his balance and missing it completely. He spun around completely in mid-air and steadied himself with a hand on the ceiling.

“Damn!” he cursed loudly. “Let me try that again.”

With a thunderous blow he sent his fist into the ceiling. The cracks split wider, and large chunks of stone fell to the ground below him.

“Everyone allright?” he called down.

...but everyone was uninjured.

"Yeah," Shayla replied, answering Panthar's question, now looking up to survey his handiwork. He'd started off a good path to a hole out of here...

...but there was still some stone to be removed before the way was totally clear, and having Panthar bang further with his horns could cause him injury.

Not that certain people wouldn't mind this, Shayla couldn't help but think, her eyes momentarily glancing to Galen before returning to the still-hovering Panthar.

"I'm going to bring you down then use telekenetics to finish out a hole for us. There is enough of one started that I should be able to dislodge enough others without risking you getting hurt."

"Oh for the love of banthas!" I exclaimed, turning from the fireplace to face him. Out of the corner of my eye I caught Shayla's look of consternation.

Tough tiddly, sweetie! I snarled to myself, then heaved a sigh of disgust.

"Look pal, you're somewhere in a god-forsaken temple on a planet called Khar Delba, in case you didn't know. A really wonderful brother of yours is skulking somewhere around here trying to do me in at the very least; what he'll do with you only Kaandon in his wisdom knows.

"What I do know is this: there isn't a single place on this planet where I'd consider us safe, unless it's in a hangar somewhere holding a Sith ship. If we could find one, I could fly us out of here... well, I'd fly me out of here at any rate!"

I snarled to a brief close, then decided to let another little tidbit drop.

"Once upon a time this place was full of noghris who answered to a guy called Darth Wicked. I think he's dead, but I don't know about his little ninja buddies. Oh yeah, and in case you forgot about it or weren't aware of it, this planet has an extremely narrow life-supportive zone; outside of the equatorial regions, it's tundra and polar ice caps.

"So if we manage to get out of this damned temple, we sure can't run far. I hope one of you goodies can come up with something plausible!"

... NOT.

"Could we refrain from the insults and arguing long enough to get up there and analyze where we're going?" she growled, ignoring the probable looks she might be receiving from at least one or two of the other parties in the room. Stretching out with the Force then, she used her skills to assess whether there where any lifeforms...

...at least, any discernable ones...

...above them.

"There doesn't seem to be anyone above us," she then stated aloud, "It's time we get on the move and see what lies ahead."

As she said this, she glanced to the others in the room, now analyzing their reaction to her thoughts. Panthar looked uncertain. Galen looked skeptical, to say the least. Shayla let her greeny-blues rest on Erik, as if asking silent permission.

Then she spoke aloud, hoping to provide an explanation for what she was about to do.

"I'm going to put Erik up first, and let him have a look at where we're going. Then I'll get you and you up there if all is well," she continued, looking to Panthar and Galen. "I'll go last. I might be a little drained by then...

...but Erik should at least be able to help me up." She turned to look at Erik. "Ready?"

He merely nodded, and so she went to work, once more raising her hand, this time causing her own husband to hover then ascend. Once he reached the hole he took hold of the edges of the broken ceiling and pulled himself over to the flooring above. A few moments of silence passed then he peeked downward, most likely readying himself to assist anyone else up if necessary.

"It's a quiet corridor," he observed then. Shayla could almost hear the added "... right now..." in his look.

She turned to the others, hand extended in preparation to take them up as well, her greeny-blues first falling on Galen. "Ready?" she asked her, then fell silent as if waiting for the woman's permission to move her via the Force...

I said as much in so many words, rather tersely, I'm afraid. But unless I suddenly sprouted wings there was no way I could make it to the hole Ol' Red had banged out of the ceiling.

"Just make it quick, okay?" I gritted through my teeth as I felt my feet leave the floor. In no time at all I was at the hole; grabbing the edge with both hands I sent a glare shooting towards Shayla, who promptly backed off.

Panthar closed his eyes and breathed deeply and exhaled. He repeated this, then opened his eyes and looked again to Shayla.

“OK, I guess that will have to do. Take me up!”

Panthar closed his eyes again and waited for the uplifting feeling to return. Soon he felt himself rising as before, and he opened his eyes to watch his journey. He turned his head upward to see the approach of the ceiling just as he reached the hole. His horn caught on the edge of the stone and he growled in pain.

“Hold it!” he called down. “Let me get this blasted horn off of this dang… grrrr!”

He ripped the stone chunk from the ceiling and latched on to the floor above with his hands. He yanked hard and pulled himself up and onto the floor, landing right next to Galen. So close, in fact, that when he looked up his nose was directly in front of hers. He was briefly caught off guard by the fire in her eyes, and for a fleeting moment found himself lost in those orbs, forgetting just where he was.

"Don't even think of going there, buddy!" My glare positively lit the cold stones around us with fire as I then scrambled backward, leaping upright all in the same, fluid movement.

Growling a bit to myself, my eyes then flitting like bats in a cave, I peered up and down the corridor while I waited for my sister's little bud to manage to get herself up and into our midst. So far all was quiet and empty, but history had taught me that that was when all the proverbial bantha poo-doo usually hit the air circulation devices.

That was all she needed. Pulling upon her strength as well as his, she gathered the Force about herself, jumped, and gracefully levitated upward, the sensation of it eerie even though she knew it was largely a result of her own efforts.

To be so in touch with the Force was exilihrating, even envigorating...

She stretched out then, and her hands found the edges of the ceiling. Gracefully, she pulled herself over just in time to see Galen shooting a not-so-friendly look at Panthar. For the moment, she ignored it, stretching out with the Force once more to assess their surroundings. She couldn't tell much about them, really, except that there was life here...

...but not right in their vicinity. And for some reason Shayla found that really disturbing.

"I can't sense anything...

...or anyone nearby," she observed softly. "But there is life here, and I I'm certain we'll be coming up on it. I can pull a Force-shield about us...

...but that's not much in the way of protection."

At this she paused, scanning the group. "Any ideas on how to go about this?"

Quieting at that, she scanned the group once more...

...and couldn't help but let her greeny-blues find a resting place on Galen, eyeing the Sith belt on her waist.

“One of your many endearing qualities, my love,” she said sweetly, then took a step backward away from Thoran. She raised one arm, and waved in the direction of the distant bridge.

“It is time I return to my duties, “ she said simply.

“You may find quarters to your liking… oh! How silly of me! Of course you already know where your personal quarters would be.”

Her eyes gleamed with a momentary darkness, quickly masked. Bowing her head a little, she turned and fled to the bridge where, taking her customary command seat, she quickly accessed the ship’s log. Using the talents taught to her, she began searching through it with incredible speed and accuracy. The detailed accounts of myriad trips and adventures scrolled before her eyes, listing name after name after name of those involved. Her eyes widened in surprise to see her own name listed quite often, alongside that of other passengers and crew who once traveled aboard this ship.

How odd, she thought. Shayla? Erik? Recinis? I know them not... but what?

Lord Phalomir....

She straightened up, leaning forward in sudden interest and read quickly on. However, although this Sith's name was mentioned, just recently in fact, nowhere was it even whispered that he was her husband. He was merely listed as being a Dark Lord of the Armorers, originally of the Sorcerer's clan.

Her eyes narrowed a bit in thought as she logged off. Unseeing then, she lay back in her seat and stared toward the unnatural blackness that beckoned to her beyond the viewport.

She knows something is wrong here… somehow, in that All-warped mind of hers, she knows.

But why didn’t she recognize Phalomir? I mean, come on, she should at least have known who the heck he is. Something strange is happening. Oh cripes, here comes that goody-goody feeling again. Maybe I should tell her the truth… ugh, why does that sound so distasteful? Ah, crap.

Thoran sighed and walked towards the bridge. He paused at the hatchway and rapped on it.

“Um, Jharmeen… Graysith?” he said, walking the rest of the way onto the bridge. “I, uh, have something to tell you that is going to sound very strange…”

Thoran glanced around the bridge, trying to find the right words, when his eyes were caught by a soft light coming from a device on the floor.

“T'elion de R’lous…” he whispered, staring at the object. “What in the seven gates of hell are you doing here?”

"I know you not, yet I should," she said, revealing the truth to him at last. That pointing finger slid to the quietly thrumming device laying on the deck; before Thoran could move she pounced upon it, and fastened it to her thrimm. One hand stroked it, while her eyes bore violet holes into the green pair before her.

"This I admittedly know not, yet it appears to at least speak something of the truth to me. And you know of it, yet you speak in lies."

Another small eternity passed in which she did nothing other than eye the silent figure before her. Then that arm raised up once more, now swinging about to point at the black nothing without the viewport.

It trembled, silhouetted against the synonym of Death behind it.

"He has done this to me," she whispered, letting uncertainty and anger tinged not without a bit of fear incite the Glyph into glorious life. It flashed in ultraviolet beauty on her forehead, lighting everything with a surreal St. Elmo's fire. The hand dropped to her thrimm again, and took up residency upon T'elion.

"Why?"

As quickly as she voiced the question, a possible answer flew into her mind.

These are enemies to my dear Sire. He knew they were here; he has protected the ship from their escape.

As his Chosen Daughter it is up to me to protect....

She remained quiet silent, granting Thoran the boon of a final answer before she decided on what course of action she was then going to take.

“Beware, dear lady” came the voice in Graysith’s head. The words carried with them a hate and vengeance that seeped over her thoughts. “Consider deeply what you say, your love for the Dark Aelevedaar comes from a time long ago, before his treachery, before he betrayed you. While this one holds no love for Aelvedaar, he still will deceive you. He dwells in the Darker Realms, he is a demon."

The lights softened, and a calmer feeling pervaded through the link.

What does he mean, this treachery by my dear Sire? How has he betrayed me? I do not know—

She came to a jarring halt as simple realizations sank in.

She did not know. To her knowledge mere months had passed since she had brought Aelvedaar forward to this time to reside in the secret place of his choosing. Yet the ship’s logs spoke of a far different story.

More time has passed than I believe….

Another shake of the head, and she lifted her hand from the device hanging on her thrimm, casting a doubting gaze out the viewport once again.

Why indeed did her Sire place this shield about the ship, as he so obviously had? That he was the author of this shield she had no doubt, for who else could have done such a thing?

But—why?

She looked down at the device once more. It lay against her body, the jewels glowing a fiery red but quiescent other than that. Yet from it there exuded an aura of warmth and trust she could not ignore.

She looked into the green eyes of the one claiming to be her husband. They were filled with concern and questions, and a hint of what she took to be willingness to be honest with her, nothing other than that…

But.

He had spoken lies to her… hadn’t he?

Hadn’t he?

She drew in a deep breath, knowing there was only one way to discern the truth. If possessed this one was, then Trickster he was as well. If not, by the chronotic shield placed about them she could only deduce that he was indeed enemy to her Sire.

In either case, that made him enemy to her.

And if neither scenario is the truth?

The words slid like oiled silk, deep in the recesses of her brain. She shuddered, and pushed them away. Quickly then, before she could change her mind, she shot her hand toward Thoran, middle and ring fingers curled loosely to meet her thumb, index and little fingers extended like horns. Before the giant Sith could move his body, something shot out from those extended fingers and wrapped about him, dancing up and down his frame, sending out tendrils that sought entry at first through ear and eye and nostril only, but then through the very pores of his skin.

The body stiffened, encased in brilliance, shaking and vibrating, open-mouthed, but whether in shock or anger or entreaty she didn’t know.

She didn’t want to know….

At her side, T’elion de R’lous fairly hummed….

Gotta get it cut… someday… somehow… if I ever, ever get the chance to think about such mundane things again….

I snorted again, this time at myself, and finally spoke up.

“You don’t have to tippy-toe around so much, sweetie-cakes,” I said with disgust. “I know you know what this does—“

A quick pat upon the device, then both hands were upon my hips and I faced her squarely.

“Look, this thing has come in mighty handy a time or two in my life, but against such little gems as Imperial troopers and assassins and whatnot. This thing is Sith, sweetheart; you don’t think that a head-honcho powerhouse of a Sith sorcerer won’t be able to zero in on us if I use this?”

I crossed my arms and let a shot of air escape from me, tossing my head yet again as I wondered to myself just where in Hell’s Seven Circles we could possibly go from here.

O-U-T, that’s where….

I sent another disgusted glance her way, and immediately began scouring the stones of the corridor, trying to figure out if there was any other way to traverse them other than by walking down the middle like some kind of sitting duck, bull’s-eye emblazoned upon its heart and all.

...and he wondered if it could possibly be used to their advantage.

"Hey," he spoke up then, "We seem to have a commrade with us who at least looks Sith...

"Hmm," I muttered as I came back to join the others. I stopped in front of Ol' Red, and raked him up and down with my eyes. He stared back at me, his terrifying visage marred somewhat by the obviously gandyrak-in-headlight look that was plastered upon it.

"I dunno, I suppose we could use him... somehow. But the main question is...

...but he didn't know if it had much probability of actually working. But then, like getting out of this place to begin with had a high probability of happening...

"I dunno," he then said aloud, "I was actually thinking of something very simplistic, like a Sith leading a couple of prisoners or unwelcomed guests out of the Temple...

...or..."

He paused, pursing his lips thoughtfully, "...or maybe we can use Panthar's looks and get him into a place with weaponry or perhaps even clothing to disguise ourselves. At any rate, I have the feeling we need to be getting on the move soon, no matter how we finally decide on getting out of here..."

At this he trailed, looking around at the dimly lit and strangely quiet corridor.

Possibly too quiet?

“Stop! You’ll kill him!” he gasped. “I started to tell you, I’m not Phalomir… I mean, this is Phalomir’s body, but, his spirit… his essence… is still trapped in the Darker Realms!”

He could no longer control the muscles below the waist, and the body slumped to the knees.

“We were stuck there, fighting demons like those back there, and I saw the portal open to here, and well… I couldn’t just let his body get clawed apart! Agh! Stop, please!”

But he wasn’t even sure if his words could be heard over the searing sounds of the energy around him. As rational thought gave way to instinct, his impulse was to flee. He raised a trembling hand and swiped the air with it, not quite understanding what he was doing. Nothing happened. Again he swiped the air, instinctively knowing that something should happen, but nothing did. He thew his head back in despair, and felt his spirit rip away from Phalomir’s body.

Phalomir fell to the floor, unmoving.

She’s checkin’ me out, he thought, smiling. Hey, maybe being big and red isn’t such a bad thing. Yeah, I can see it now, walking down the beach, or around Sullust, the ladies checkin’ out this fine piece of red meat-- hey, what did she say? Hey, what? Erik? Use me to what? Hey!

“Whoa!” he exclaimed. “Hey, hang on here. I’m not Sith! I don’t even know how to act Sith! What if someone talks to me? I mean, I don’t even know where the heck we are! And what if I can get weapons, there’s probably hundreds of Sith guys in this building, not to mention Aelvedork.”

He turned to Shayla.

“Come on, can’t we think of something else? I mean, I’m just an archeologist, I’ve hardly ever even fired a blaster except to clear rocks. And they don’t fire back! Can’t you use the force or whatever to wake up that stupid Eye? Or seriously, I saw it give power to Phal, maybe it can do it for you… or Young Red over here.”

She paused for a moment then, considering Erik's suggestion and Panthar's concerns regarding it. "And as far as what we can do with this idea...

...it has a few kinks, but it's a start perhaps. You may not know the way around, but at the moment, neither do any of us. But if we get to some place I can recognize..."

Here she paused, looking sympathetically to Erik, "...I can give you cues as to where to lead. As for not knowing how to act Sith...

...shouldn't you have at least a vague idea after being around Phalomir and Thoran? And if someone talks to you...

...well, I'm guessing we might have a little bit of a problem, though I can try to handle it through the Force. And it's a bit of a risky idea...

The energies flowing from Graysith’s fingertips flared as the wayward spirit was ripped from the Sith’s body, becoming more and more intense until Thoran was totally encased in something reminiscent of the nuclear fires of a blue giant sun. Graysith held him trapped while with her other arm she pointed to Phalomir’s body, catching it in mid-fall with yet more All-strength and lowering it gently to the deck of the corridor. Once she was certain he was free of the possessive entity, she turned her full attention back to the outline shimmering ahead of her.

“You will open a pathway and take us to where the spirit of this one is,” she ordered, still pointing at Phalomir but narrowing a dark glance Thoran’s way.

“Oh good grief!” I exploded, unable to hold my exasperation in any longer. Being referred to as “Young Red” by no means helped in making my disposition any sweeter.

“Look, you guys can all just hang here and discuss this method or that. But as for me, I’m believing in Erik over here.”

A quick jerk of my thumb in his direction, then I pressed on.

“I’m more of a believer in action speaking louder than words. You can stay here in debate until the rontos come home. I’m going to see if I can find a way out of this blasted temple before we run into somebody we don’t want to… or he runs into us.”

With that I gathered the courage cringing behind that façade of bravado, and began moving down the corridor. Ahead I could see that this corridor ended in a T-intersection.

Oh yeah. 50-50 chance of… of what?

He rose a hand to stop her, speaking up himself. "Let's get moving, and keep this plan in mind. We'll use it if we have to...

...and in the meantime look for other options. Galen's right, sitting around here only leaves us open to discovery, and being an information smuggler, I know that the time which you take to find something has to be carefully spent."

Pausing for the barest of moments then, Erik turned and looked to his wife, his words clearly meant for her. "Don't you remember those days, Shayla?"

What was that all about just now? And why didn't he wait for her?

Her eyes darkened a touch as a little voice replied, Because he's right, and he knows that you know it.

And perhaps because he's tired of always taking the copilot's chair...?

Shayla pushed that thought to the side for later scrutiny. She looked to Panthar, nodding then in the direction where Erik had followed behind Galen. Then she got on her feet and headed there as well, finding them stopped at a T-shaped intersection.

Instinctively, she stretched out with the Force. "I get alot of life form readings that way," she said, pointing in one direction. Then, "The other way..."

She paused, frowning. "I get nothing...

But still, he thought. I’m in this Sith body, and it’s really strong. Stronger than average, even for a Sith, according to what Phalomir had said. These people could really use someone with that kind of strength right now… like we need someone with Young Red’s strength. I wonder if I can get along with her?

He took three long strides and quickly caught up the group, who now paused at the end of the hallway.

“OK, I’ll do what you need me to do,” he said quietly. “I don’t have any magick, but I have lot of body strength. Just be careful, we’re dealing with both Aelvedork and the Master here, he is one who trapped Erik and me. And with Phal dead and Jharlene possessed, we’re running out of powerful allies –”

“Did you say there’s absolutely nothing down that way?” he stopped and asked Shayla. “That sounds really bad for some reason. But if we’re looking for an exit, or a vehicle of some kind, I hate to say it but I think we need to go where the people are.”

He sheepishly turned to Galen.

"I think you're nuts," I stated tersely, turning away from everyone and beginning to walk down the corridor the blond had pointed out as being quiet.

"What we want to do is get the behoosis out of this temple, not found by people. If I recollect correctly, it seems to me that back when the show here was being run by this weird but very dark crazy man who went by the name of Darth Wicked, there was a little hangar where he kept some TIEs and infiltrators and the like.

"I've been here before, remember?"

I fell silent with that as memories of those horrible days when I was prisoned here, nearly torn apart by his nasty little noghri assassins, later to be released by none other than my sister-turned-dark-witch, came rushing back full-bore. Ahead of me the corridor seemed to darken almost as if with anticipation.

Wait, the portal! Swiping the hand, yes, it was coming back to him… ripping a tear through the dimensional seams… yes, remembering…

“Yes,” he cried. “Yes, I’ll take you to him!”

He cast a pleading look to Graysith.

“If I can…”

He lifted his hand into the air once more, struggling against the agony of the power wrapped around him. He concentrated, allowing the memories of his days of servitude to the Master come back to him. Back in former existence as assassin, spy, errand-boy… When the Master was a powerful lord in the Darker Realms.

He focused on that realm now, fixing his thoughts on Phalomir. He pictured him, surrounded by imps, struggling to survive against the overwhelming hordes. He scowled and sent his hand flying downward through the air, a surge of power ripping the air in front of him. A seam seemed to burst in the fabric of space, and a dark crescent shimmered before him.

...for she knew that most likely meant a chronotic shield. But then, chronotic shields were usually placed around areas that someone did not want found...

...and if there was anything that someone wouldn't want found, it would be a hangar bay totally foreign to everything that was now here. But then again, it could be hiding something else entirely...

"You have chosen wisely," she observed as her hand yet pointing to Phalomir turned palm upward and was raised. Immediately the air molecules above his body were heated, and began moving away from each other. The molecules beneath him, being more closely packed, acted as a sort of cushion that, with little effort, she then raised upward, taking his body with it. Casting a sharp look Thoran's way, she nodded, urging him to enter into the gaping chasm he had created.

I thought so....

Her eyes dark, a sweet, sweet smile on her features, she followed the energy-enclosed spirit, taking Phalomir's body along with them.

The portal closed with a sickening slurp the moment the three of them had passed through, leaving an empty Sith warship to wurble and tick to itself as space spread out to infinity all about it.

((OOC: Follow Graysith, Thoran and Axis -- and poor Phalomir's sleeping body -- to Behind the Black River in the "Jedi/Sith" forums, thank you.))

The nothingness down-corridor immediately dropped, and from it stepped the amber-eyed Chosen Son of Aelvedaar.

He came up to the group, one clawed hand held up in a gesture almost indicative of solace.

"My Sire is not the only one capable of such things," he said, and fell silent, waiting to see what response would follow after his surprising entry.

“Oh, I see,” he said to the Sith, not noticing the horrified expressions on his companions. “Well, that answers one question, sort of.”

He straightened himself and put on a Sith-like demeanor.

"Please," he finally stated, sounding pained. "Do not insult my intelligence.

"I know fully well you you are and why you are here... not to mention how you got here."

"So if that is the case...

"Perhaps it is at the request of my own conscience," he began, then cut himself off with a quickly uplifted hand.

"You seek egress from this place; I can lead you to safety, if you trust me."

“Oh, what the hell?” he said. “I’m game. Name’s Panthar… but I guess you already know that.”

Ignoring the proffered hand he merely blinked, tilted his head down a bit upon his chest then looked up from beneath his brows. His graceful ram’s horns cast dark shadows upon his own face, masking his eyes now from the view of the others.

“I am Aeylmaar, son of Dark Lord Aelvedaar… and you are not Sith,” he observed in a low voice, then raised his face again and waited, silent.

Panthar paused, letting all of the Sith’s words sink in.

Then he moved his focus away from Panthar entirely, and let it settle directly upon Shayla and Erik.

Still he did not speak, but filled the air with an almost tangible current of something as he let that piercing look remain there.

...especially considering this guy was the son...

...the Chosen son of Aelvedaar. Wasn't he the bad guy? He certainly wished he could remember any of the things that Shayla had told him, and perhaps he'd be able to remember this guy...

...who, as he had been told, had taken their premature son into safety, only to keep him away from his parents. Erik struggled with this some more, trying to fight back the "what ifs" popping up in his mind, noting the look in Galen's eyes...

"I don't know whether we can trust you or not after all that has happened...

...but then, I don't see that we have any other choice. I find it hard to believe, however, that you would risk the wrath of your Father to lead his captives to safety...

"That," he breathed in a silky voice, "is something you must decide now, isn't it? But do not tarry long in your decision-making; others may come."

...to which he replied with a yet-hesitant look. When it came down to the bottom line, however, Erik still knew that they didn't have much of a choice...

...and that they really didn't have much to go on to make a decision either. What he did have to go on was that they were being offered a possible escape route...

...and that they all wanted.

"Allright," he said, finally speaking up, "Take us where you will..."

He looked to Galen, an exasperated look on his face.

"You've got a point," I admitted grudgingly, grinding my teeth at the term of endearment he seemed to have developed for me.

"But so far, we're still standing."

Which is more than I'll say for you, buddy, if you keep up this particular modus operandi...

I grunted again, and crossed my arms while Ol' Red just stood there with a look on his face that didn't quite match his fearsome appearance.

...and that they didn't have much more time for discussion concerning this matter. And as if he knew Erik's very thoughts, Aeylmaar then frowned his way.

Allright, enough of this. After all, sitting around and discussing things isn't gonna get a damn thing done. Just do it, pal.

With this final thought, Erik turned and met Aeylmaar's gaze. "Well," he said then, "To restate Panthar, let's just get the hell out of here."

“Please follow me; I shall take you to my private hangar where you may take possession of a ship my father says is a ‘TIE fighter.’ It appears to have been left by a former… occupant of this temple.”

He bowed again and turned, stepping out to lead them away from where they had been dallying for far too great a time, in his opinion. Soon he was proceeding through the stone corridors in great strides, strides quite deceptive for his height. He spoke not a word but continued on, not even bothering to look behind him but secure in the knowledge that the others were following as their footsteps echoed in his ears.

After a bit of evasive movement, in which he led them up one corridor and down another, up one set of cracked and moisture-ridden steps and down yet another equally as damp, the corridor opened up into a somewhat small and windowless room. It was absolutely featureless save for a nondescript wooden door set squarely in the middle of the far wall. The only light came from the corridor behind them, which splayed upon the cold stones at their feet only to fade away until the door was nothing more than a shadowy splotch against shadows even darker.

Ayelmaar smiled, and turned sideways to the group. He waved expansively toward that little door and smiled.

“Beyond that door lies a small pathway through the back gardens that will lead you to my hangar,” he said.

Panthar saw the impatient look from several of his companions.

“Yeah, anyway,” he said. “I’ve seen one up close. They’re small.”

He then turned his attention to the Sith heir.

“Thanks for doing this, no matter what your real reasons are. I owe you one, and I never forget a favor.”

She paused at this, pursing her lips and then turning to Panthar. "And you're right," she continued, "TIE's are small. In fact, they are a one person fighter--we'll be lucky if we can cram two people into one..."

...but it was long enough for Jasyn. He much rather preferred action.

"Damn it all to hell," he said suddenly as his eyes snapped alert and his gaze focused on the red-headed man sitting not too far away, "It's been too kriffing long."

Falling silent at this, Jasyn watched as Matt shrugged as if to say Well, it really hasn't been that long...

Jasyn sighed, getting to his feet and walking around aimlessly.

"I just can't take this sitting around, waiting for something to happen," he then stated aloud. Then his eyes shifted, darkening. "I wonder if Stargazer is faring well..."

All of a sudden he whirled, his colorful robes skirling about him like waters flooding through a spillway. The shadows of the room created dark hollows in the planes of his face, making his features suddenly hawkish, his eyes piercing. He stared Shayla straight in the eye.

“No, you may not impinge any further on my… generosity,” he spoke at last, the words sharp and clipped and deathly quiet. He paused again, and tilted his head a bit to one side.

“There was a time I requested you depart from this planet and never return, as this is no place for any other than Sith. Yet here you are once more. Perhaps in your… efforts to leave Khar Delba as requested again, given only that which I give to you, you may rise not only in foot-rank, as is common among our people, but in my estimations of you as well.”

Once more he fell quiet, now casting a glance about from one to another in the little group.

“The TIE fighter bearing the hawksbill standard of raven and scarlet is your vehicle; who you send where and how you do it is… well, up to you. I lead you this far; I cannot take you by the hand any longer.”

With that he bowed formally, turned his back, and left the group clustered about the shadowy doorway. Shadows even darker, even more forbidding, loomed in threatening silhouette against its framework, outlining the party in ebony. Aeylmaar ignored them then, as with quickening strides he reached the corridor of the temple proper. There he turned once more, bestowing upon the others a look that spoke of solemnity but bordered closely upon seeming pleasure.

A clawed hand raised as if in farewell… and the door to the corridor closed, wavered, melded, and disappeared into the stone framework around it. Nothing was there to remotely suggest that a door had existed to begin with.

All there was was an empty chamber, now blanketed in suffocating darkness… and a small rectangular shape which allowed the light of the outside night to enter in.

“Well!” I stated as I raised fully upright from my position against the wall I had been leaning against, trying to make myself unnoticeable in the eyes of this enigmatic Sith. Somehow I didn’t think I had been very successful; I snorted again, trying to muster up my former confidence, and moved to where the big red guy was standing, blocking our view from what lay without that little door.

“That was certainly helpful… I think.”

I peered around him into the night, shivering as I fought off an instant flash of déjà vu. This wasn’t the first time in my extraordinary life that I had been here, nor was it the first time I had found myself creeping quietly about in the bowels of this immense and cold-stoned edifice. True, my exiting therefrom had been a touch wee more on the obvious side back then, whether it was with Sorben’s assistance or that of my sister; something about lurking about beside this unassuming little door just gave me the willies.

I shivered again and stared harder, and gradually the darkness without resolved itself into shapes that were weirdly yet distinctly darker against dark. A broad and well-kept lawn swept forth from the edge of this temple, which rose up without preamble to tower above us against the stars. About one hundred meters away that lawn held back a forest that I very well remembered.

You spent some time in a tree out there once, didn’t you?

I shook that away, and took in a deep breath, trying to find the little path the Sith had referred to. I couldn’t see it for love or money; blinking, I took a cautious step around the hulking Panthar and moved out onto the lawn. I was immediately beset by a refreshing breeze—

Weird how that air didn’t touch us in the doorway…

--that carried the fragrance of nightblooms upon its back, sickeningly sweet. Something rustled in the treetops, causing a brief commotion in branches nearly two hundred feet in the air, and from somewhere not very far away came a distinct snarl of a creature I know I had heard before.

I stepped back instinctively, plunking right up against Panther, my hand going to the device at my belt.

“If there really is a path out there that leads to a hangar, and if in that hangar there really is a TIE fighter waiting for us, then I think I can get us there,” I said, albeit not without some doubt. I knew very well that the powers of the Sith sorcerers could easily discern where we were even if I used the device; easy enough to find a blob of nothing against something. As I said, this thing was useful against the more mundane variety of enemy and weaponry, and logically not meant against those who had developed it.

“However,” I went on. “Panthar and the blonde are right. TIEs are small, not to mention ancient and crotchety. And not meant for deep space; I hope there has been modifications or we probably won’t be able to get anywhere but to the other planet in this system.

“That is, whoever we choose to go wouldn’t. I suppose I could lend this device to the pilot, just to make certain he—“

I turned and at first gave Shayla a sharp look before letting it soften a bit in silent query as to what the Sith meant by those words he had last said to her.

I shrugged mentally, and went on.

“—or she gets away clean… or at least as cleanly as normally expected. As for those who are forced to remain behind, well…”

I let my voice trail as I turned back to gaze out into the night, shivering against the quickening breeze and the sound of yet another snarl which rolled out of the black forest, all sorts of dire promises rolling right along with it.

Panthar started down the path, allowing the others to fall in behind.

“And I guess if it comes to someone staying,” he mused, “it should probably be me. I at least look Sith, and maybe I can find a barn or something to hunker down in for a while. Maybe Phal will show up for me.”

Panthar walked the small path through the garden, past the strange flowers and bushes. He glanced out into the flower beds and took in the eerie beauty of the plants. He caught the shape of some large nocturnal insect as it wound its way through the stalks, then buzzed downward towards the lovely flower of one particular plant. The insect landed on a petal, and Panthar winced as the flower swiftly closed around the insect and enveloped it entirely, delivering a crunching sound that carried across the otherwise silent garden.

“Nice place,” he said quietly. “Might even think about staying here a while.”

Just as promised, the path led to what appeared to be the back door of a large building. Panthar glanced back to the group for an encouraging look, and finding none he sighed and tried the door. Miraculously, it opened. He peered inside, his Sith eyes cutting through the darkness beyond.

Nice? I thought to myself with a shiver. He calls this nice? He must have stayed too long in that Sith body he managed to get himself stuck in....

My wandering thoughts were brought to an abrupt halt as we did likewise. I peered ahead, then up to Panthar in astonishment.

He was standing there, hand to one side, ushering us into a crooked and thorn-be-ridden path that disappeared into the gloomy forest, smiling as though he was personally presenting us to the Queen of Naboo.

Was he nuts or something?!>

"Are you nuts or something?!"

The words exploded from me as a particularly sharp thorn seemed to reach out to grasp at me. I stepped back, bumping into whoever was behind me; I didn't dare take my eyes off that nasty pathway to take a look and see who I had bumped into.

"You lead on, Big Guy; no way in Hell's Seven Circles am I going in there unless we activate my little device here."

However, he did find it interesting, but even still, he could bend this to his advantage.

"Only a matter of time until I make my move, but until then I will watch a little longer."

Rykounagin said, tucking his arms against his chest as he rolled his body into a curl, pulling his body into the small ventilation shaft that extended to the outside of the facilty, not that anyone had noticed his presence, as he believed himself to have cloaked himself in the force sufficiently to avoid notice.

Yes, I will wait for a short while. He thought, now scaling the narrow shaft towards the surface and his transport.

((OOC: Rykounagin next appears in the thread Behind the Black River in the "Jedi/Sith" forums, check the date and follow him there, thank you. ~ Graysith))

...nor did she particularly like Aeylmaar's pointed words.

Why didn't he understand that she had been made to leave her own son here? Couldn't he see, Sith or no, how difficult that was?

Her eyes darkened at these thoughts for the barest of moments, but she was jarred to reality as Galen stepped back and bumped into her. As her greeny-blue eyes snapped into complete alertness, she couldn't help but frown towards the yawning entrance Panthar had created when had opened that door.

Maybe it was the entire situation at hand, but something was sending a tremor through the Force...

"I don't like this," she then muttered, turning to Galen, "But I'm thinking that if you can use that Sith belt to get past the Imperial blockade, you might be able to get to EE and get a ship to bring back in and get the rest of us. Gods know those guys have more experience in this area than anyone from Stargazer Corp would, and that aside you've had more than your fair share of being here. This is your chance for an exit..."

Shayla trailed then, frowning as something occurred to her, "...although, depending on how the Imperials have that blockade set, getting past them could be a problem...

...and I don't count on any of them being willing to come back and get the rest of our stranded party, especially since the last time Panthar and I interacted with the Impys and Sorben Tarnus--

--whose flagship is incidentally probably still up there--

--we somehow managed to...

... lose the escort he sent us off with."

Quieting at that then, Shayla's look darkened once more. The thought of bumping into what would probably be a very angry bounty-hunter turned Imperial bossman seemed even less inviting than staying in the great outdoors of Khar Delba for an extended period of time.

“Such behavior is not becoming of a Sith, let alone the heir apparent of the lordship to the Sorcerers,” I chide him gently as I now turn to face him. He bows his head, clasping his hands as he remains silent before me. I regard him a long moment before letting my eyes slide from his frame to another image more shadowy, hidden in the corners of this room.

It is the Sith incubator, which yet holds in stasis the son of the Stargazer. I wave a clawed hand expansively toward it.

“It is not so much that we ourselves need this child as they simply cannot have it. For eons Sith have led and ruled Sith, and Sith have led and ruled the People; it shall always be thus, forevermore.”

I quiet at that, not needing to go into any great detail. He has stood with me as I opened that door to a possible future… he knows the consequences. I know he stands firm with me in this, no matter how much he may disapprove of my other actions. That pains me, but I understand it; sometimes it is difficult to see beyond the immediate and take into consideration the entirety of the Big Picture, as I so colorfully put it to my Chosen Daughter.

She at least understood this….

I relish the ripple of pain that sweeps through me at the thought of her, knowing that in that anguish I am truly alive. Then I let out a deep sigh, and turn once again to my Son.

“If the Stargazer or any other of this party returns here again, kill them,” I order, feeling alive in the pain of this as well.

“That is, unless they do not survive to leave Khar Delba at all….”

A darker smile takes over my features then as, with a wave of one hand, I beckon. From shadows deep in the perimeter of this, my hallowed place, there comes answering snarls and growls and muttered replies as from those shadows there now steps forth a group of lithe and muscled shapes.

It is my little army of Noghri, the tattered remnants of those remaining when Darth Wicked left this place. I had quite easily discovered their hiding place in the greenbelt surrounding the Temple and its grounds; after a bit of… ‘persuasion’ they were more than happy to post their allegiance to me. In gratitude for that promised loyalty, I provided them with tuk’ata escorts, each one mentally linked with its handler. They will stand with the assassins until death… unless betrayal brought forth the necessity of that death coming earlier, and to the Noghri not the tuk’ata.

“Go,” I speak the word softly, letting it dagger into their brains. The leader growls a reply, turns, and barking an order departs with his little horde. The wonderful, diminishing sound of their claws clattering against stone echoes in my ears, until at length the silence bespeaks of their departure from the Temple of the Sorcerers.

As well as it speaks of a flush of disapproval I sense from my Son. I shrug mentally at this, and turn back to the Octahedron. He may think what he will, but he knows well what the end result will be.

Indeed, what it has to be.

“Come,” I then say, turning away from the magickal device and approaching Aeylmaar. I place a fatherly arm along his shoulders.

“Let us leave events to unfold as they will, and allow ourselves a modicum of surprise at their fruition. I desire food.”

With that I lead him from my chambers, letting the suspended chronotic shield re-establish itself about my Sanctum as we depart, that nothing and no one would enter therein in our absence.