I nodded, feeling a deep-seated exhaustion begining to set in. But with a last brief glance at my father, I hefted my love in my arms, and strode through the portal and into my home.

As we stepped from the cold ruins and into the warmth of the temple, I felt my knees almost give away. I had forgotten the very slight difference in gravity, as the plane of darkness seemed to be relatively lighter.

However, father seemed to have compensated for this, as I had found myself holding my love in her old chambers, where I had first encountered her with the master.

I laid her gently upon the furs of the bed, then turned and sat next to her. She was still unconcious. She seemed not to have suffered a great deal of physical trauma, but my father had a good piece of thought to give before I parted.

"What harms you...?" I wondered, thinking back to how we had arrived in the darker realms in the first place.

Her hair had flown through the air, our blood hot in veins, closeness almost tender save for the sadistic embrace she held me in; that I had accepted in my thoughtless state. But then, with a flick of her hand she took me to a place that she seemed to think sublime. But why?

I looked down at her again, stroking her flaming red hair from her face gently. "What secrets do you have? What wasn't I told my love? What are you hiding...?"

I sighed and sat back against the pillows. I had done my best an hour ago to tend to her injuries. She did not have anything remarkably damaged that I could see, aside from developing bruises, scrapes and cuts. It was remarkable that nothing had been broken when the tower had collapsed.

It had almost killed him to see that she had been trapped under the rubble, and now in hindsight, he wondered how he had been able to lift such a large thing; especially in his weakened state.

Had it been his love for her?

But at the same time, his father seemed to think that love was a weakness. An exploitable weakness that was not something to have, but to avoid. Yet he himself had put them together as a couple. But did he expect them not to love each other.

Then suddenly, a thought occured to him, one that surprised him.

Did he even love her?

By automatic response, his thoughts scolded him for thinking that he could not. But had it been only a year ago that she had branded him "Betrayer"? Had it not been a year ago that she herself had declared him dead in her sight if he was ever to fall into it again? Yet here he sat now, the length of her beaten body unconcious before him, cared for by him.

Yet she loved him, or so it seemed. Perhaps it was only out of blind obedience to her father that she loved him? But no, the night previous in which she had... well... it was a night he thought few sith in the bar would forget in a hurry. It was seldom seen, he would think, that in a public place a dark lady would throw herself upon her lord in a manner unbeffiting her station.

Even still...

He loved her. That was final, and for the cause or reason of which he did not no, he did not equally care.

If it came to be that he really did not love her, did not care for her? Well it would be enough in his mind that he had served his father well, and to his people, had served just as equally.

They deserve to see a Lord before them as a lady should stand at his side.

He nodded to himself, and focused upon her again. As his hand (bare now that he had removed his gloves) ran over her right temple gently, stroking the hair there with whorls natural and tattooed, that he saw her eyelids twitch just slightly in time as she shifted in the embrace of the furs about her.

And why she had been acting in the manner in which she had.

Her eyes jerked back and forth beneath her closed lids, and beads of sweat condensed upon her brow, wetting her hair, clinging to Rykounagin's fingers as he sought to soothe her night terrors. A low moan issued from her lips, almost a whisper, but one that was deep and low and long, borne out from her very soul and carried upon the black wings of despair.

For a moment the carefully compartmentalized emotions threatened to engulf her once more, sending her back into the black realms of insanity...

...but a distant, cool touch pushed them away. Kept them at bay.

Something other slowly rose up within her. Something different. Something she had professed to feel during her time in the Darker Realms...

Something then a lie. And now a truth.

A flood of warmth bubbled up, brushed past the cloying fingers of the terrors, reached out metaphorically to grasp the fingers with which her husband stroked her brow, her temple. Clung to that, fiercely.

"No," she said to the blackness which yet struggled within.

"I will not yield to you again. There is more here, more that I wish for... I am daughter of Roan, and as my father once found joy in this thing, so shall I.

"Begone, foul thing of the Night; you shall have me no more!"

Something within let forth an eerie, mournful howl of defeat...

...and flickered away into oblivion.

ShaRhylla's lids moved, jostled, opened to reveal her eerily bi-coloured eyes. The blinked blearily against the remnants of the terror, a terror which gradually faded away to be supplanted by a familiar and suddenly very dear face. A face now difficult to see for the tears now flooding her eyes.

No matter. Sight was not necessary at this moment.

"R-Rykounagin," she whispered, her lips dry and cracked. Her tongue snaked out, trying to wet them.

"I am so sorry--"

"It's alright my heart... you are alright now... do not fret... everything is alright, and you have no reason to be sorry." I gave her scarlet locks a last gentle stroke before turning to the small night stand, where I had placed a small basin of water should it be needed in haste.

I took a small goblet that had been left upon the table as well from some previous night of in-bed drinking, and gently dipped the side into the water to let the bottom fill with it before withdrawing it. Though it dripped slightly, I brought it to her lips gently so that she might drink and relieve her parched throat.

"It's alright..." I cooed quietly, letting her take a weak but firm grasp on the goblet so that she might drink for herself. "There you go..." I took it away gently after a moment.

"Just rest... there is no need to strain yourself for now... I am glad to know you are alright. Stay here and I shall call for servants to fetch you new clothing and bathe you so that you might be washed of the filth that the darker places bring upon those who visit them."

In the suddenly overwhelming and quite incongruous fright that Rykounagin somehow knew, and because of that he would leave her, ShaRhylla bolted upright. Her eyes were wide and dark, the pale hand she held out to stop him trembled.

"Please, do not leave me; you do not know--"

Gulping to a momentary halt she tried to compose herself.

"It was not me," she began in a low voice.

"I am not like that; I am stronger, I am honorable, like my father, whose daughter I am--! But I am not evil, I am not that horrid blasphemy, oh Rykounagin, don't you see?

"I am not what or who you think I am! I am Roan's daughter, I am Sith, I am Dark Lady now... but I am not the madness I once led you to think I am.

"You are no betrayer..."

She fumbled to a halt, lowering her eyes to her hands which know found themselves folded in her lap. Sitting there in the tangle of bedclothes the young halfling found herself feeling more and more the daughter of her father, yet more and more that of her human mother as well.

This was new. This was different.

For better or worse though? Even I could not divine. It was a definate change, for until now, she had always kept the imperious manner that even I felt rebuked upon when my gaze even met hers.

But now?

This was more honest perhaps, but totally different from how I had known her. This was not the woman I had begun to fall in love with, that I had become intoxicated with, though we had our greater differences. This was almost...

Childish; Infantile.

But I had loved her. For all her faults, even as she sat there, in shock at herself and what she had been, I had loved her. This was not the thing I had come to love, but in time perhaps... For now, I had a duty.

Images that were for the most part darker than the Night, filled with fires hotter than those issuing from Hell itself. Images that she wanted to shy away from with all of her being, but which she forced herself to watch. For there within those images of what had happened to her, were images of how she had responded to the affect.

Without the thing that had connected us.

Finally, after (to my best guess) an hour had passed, I gently shifted, just enough to remind her of my presence from her inner thoughts.

"I hope not to... disturb you to greatly, but even I find my own odor offensive... the stink of the place we recently inhabited is most vile, and sticks to the flesh as blood to the recently dead. Perhaps it would make you feel better to wash yourself of what remains?"

She had been taken, violated, violated back, gleeful with relish, the blood fresh and dark in her mouth, the flesh binding her to something beyond death--

But it was not her response. It had not been of her volition, she had not allowed this.

She was Daughter of Roan...

Somehow, the halfling found her way to the fresher, implemented it, stood lost and unfeeling beneath the rush of hot water which flooded down to remove the greasy remnants of the Darker Realms from her skin.

I am the daughter of Roan, and I allowed it to take me!

Her eyes closed at this, and she tilted her head back, letting the water rush against her face, sluice through her long and flowing locks.

I let it enter me, I was not strong--

A pause. Another, closer look.

A new memory: the blackness roiling up within Aelomir, boiling out from him in admiration as he seemed to yearn for her...

No. As he yearned for that which had taken her, which was in her but not of her.

A sudden fury engulfed her. Her eyes flew open, a great snarl tore through her lips as one hand slammed against the stones of the fresher, her pearly claws renting gashes into it.

"I am the Daughter of Roan, and will have none of this!"

All else paled. Fury, hot and righteous, rose within her heart, jostling aside the budding warmth she inherited therein from her mother.

"I shall find this Darkness and shall destroy it, for the effrontery by which it dared to mock me..."

Unknowing if she had spoken the words aloud, or if Rykounagin even heard them or knew of her thoughts, indeed, not knowing what he knew at the moment, she simply stood there in the fresher, hotness rising up in her heart, as she vowed her revenge on that which dared once accost the Dark Lady of the Warriors.

I returned with the on my arm, and laid them out on the bed. Not feeling any particular modesty at the moment, I removed the robes I had worn for nearly a day straight now, and entered the fresher behind my love.

She was beautiful, in this the way I had never seen her before. But that was not my immediate attention, for noting the fresh marks upon the wall, and the way she now held herself, it seemed some of that which was familiar to me had returned to her.

"I see you are feeling better love?" I asked, letting the water wash over me as well, shifting so that it could clean both of our flesh efficiently of the filth and grime of the darkness we had left behind.

Her bi-colored eyes roved up and down his frame, once, taking him in, approving.

"I am who I am, the daughter of Roan and the Dark Lady of the Warriors!" she announced with a fiery strength somewhat surprising for the depths she had momentarily sunk to during her self-scrutiny. She blinked again, suddenly reaching out to Rykounagin, taking him in a grasp that was not only fierce but was meant to confirm her relationship to him in as straightforward and spiritually clear a manner that she could convey.

"I will find this Dark Thing, and will destroy it!" she snarled before drawing him suddenly to her and bestowing upon him a kiss of a Dark Lady to her Warrior Lord.

Then she quickly released him, turned back to the rushing water, and continued to cleanse herself of the filth of the Darker Realms, both real and remembered.

Call me naive, young, or merely immature, but even I can appriciate the appearance of a female backside when presented to me. I took up one of the linen towels as she did and dabbed myself dry, taking another moment to appriciate and curse the markings upon my flesh.

Markings that I would soon erase from the universe, save for my own. I walked past her into the bedchamber connected to the fresher, and picked up the robes that had been laid out for me. I donned them, and found them to large, but soon managed to pinch the folds and knot them slightly so that it fit a bit more appropriately.

"I believe that desire was... an erroneous one," she said smoothly.

"I believe there are going to be certain.. trials ahead that we must face; a wise General does not cut off those who might be of assistance to him at some later date now, does he?"

She smiled prettily, chewing on her lip awhile before continuing.

"Did my Father ever state what it is he wished for you, for us, to do, now that we are wed?" she asked, running a finger up and down the hilt of her sword.

"We are alive and back from the Darker Realms, and I will destroy the black thing which tried to take us, which deceived me as if I am nothing but a simple bumpkin! But it will not do to rush into things without having every bit of information at our disposal, as much as I would like to return there this minute to kill it.

"Your suggestion in this matter, my Lord?"

She smiled a beautifully vicious smile, yet caressing the hilt, and waited for his reply.

"He told us that we should make the sith strong again, and, as your current goal goes in line with, to destroy all those things that dare threaten us."

I chuckled and traced a tattoo line that ran across my jaw gently. "Perhaps a good way to get into this, would be to make sure the hunt in three days, goes well according to plan?"

She was, after all, the daughter of Roan. She would always be as she was born: wild, fierce, a warrioress, proud of her father and her heritage and herself, proud now of her mate she had taken--

The major difference now was that she had the ability to think, a cold, calculating process which had up until recently been overwhelmed by the dark evil that had been planted within her.

"Yes, the Blood-Hunt," she mused, running a finger along one sharp and pearly fang. Moving quickly and gracefully then, she went over to the draperies behind which the entrance to their great stone balcony was hidden. Opening them with a strong movement, she went out onto the balcony, stood there a moment, the breezes riffling her hair, the soft lights of the city below reflecting in her eerie, bi-colored eyes.

"From whence shall spring many new and strong warriors," she said, then turned round to face Rykounagin, who yet stood back within the chamber. She leaned back against the stone balustrade, laying her hands upon it, now raising her face to the freshening breeze.

"My father once mentioned something to me, mentioned only once. It was briefly said, and long ago, back when I was-- when I--"

She stumbled a bit on the words before finally, with a snarl, she managed to spit them out.

"When I first became."

That was the only way she could describe her unique background, the only means by which she could try to gain Rykounagin's understanding. For odd it was indeed to be able to reach back into one's own mind, clearly and in great detail, only to run up against--

Nothing.

She shook her head, shook off the accompanying feeling of strangeness, and continued.

"He said something about Unity, of No Clan, and that the Sith would rise up as One. That is all I remember of it."

Now she turned round about, resting her elbows along the stone rail as she leaned out to contemplate the city below.

"I think that is what he wished us to do, Rykounagin. I think he desires us to continue along his path, to decimate the Three Clans as being needed no longer as separate entities, but to unite all Sith under one banner.

"And from then to rise up to the glory of what we once were. And will be again."

I smirked just slightly, but paused. In the tiny space of time between my words, came the realization that if this dream came true, then no longer would the boundaries exist.

What would remain? A great sith empire yes, but who at the head? To think that myself and my love could control such an awesome entity, to have it at our fingertips?

A shudder slipped down my spine.

"...an army. To unite all the sith once and for all, and to solidify their great hold over the universe. It shall be a magnificent sight to see."

I turned to my love, and knealt slowly before her, looking up into the pools of her eyes, which reflected all that we already held.

"And it shall be a sight, that I shall be glad to give to you."

The word slid out against the night, a sibilant hiss to join with that of the cooling breeze as the halfling let herself simply relish the moment, the pathway ahead now so suddenly clear, the touch of Rykounagin's lips against her fingertips so suddenly soft. She stared down upon him, then reached out to lightly run one finger along his cheek.

"Yes," she repeated, this time the word uttered in a far softer voice, one a touch more gentle.

Then, the motion quick and light, she leapt back along the rail, up onto it, landing firmly, with not so much as a waver. Her knees bent as she half-crouched, the practice sword in her hand, her hair tossing in the light wind coming up from the quieting city below.

Her eyes glittered in the dimming light.

And slowly, across her features, there spread a beckoning smile.

She kissed the dense, deeply shining wood, her eyes never once leaving Rykounagin's.

I was pleased to see that she easily knocked them away when they came close, or did not react if they were obvious ploys (as they all were). After a few seconds of this, I took a step back and then jumped up onto the rail. It was thin, but wide enough for good footing.

She pressed her advantage of already having been there quickly, and forced me to focus on my footwork, moving me back along the rail until my foot hit one of the small artistic supports that jutted up half a foot or so.

It was enough that I had to give pause, and spent the next twenty or so seconds fending off quick slashes and stabs from my love, who was using the advantage of my being pinned quite well.

I sought to push her back, but her stance was firm, but my mind soon found an alternative method. With her next slash, I hit hard enough to hold it, but not enough to push it back or glance it away. As I predicted and hoped, the blades with their dull edges both caught a small chip in each others sides.

The blades locked for a moment, and seizing the moment, I jumped down onto the balcony and pulled my sword back. The motion was enough to unbalance her and bring her down onto the balcony as well.

I tipped my sword slightly, then began to the dance. This time however, we circled and pressed back and forth, the blades continuing to create their dull clang until it seemed that this could become a match of endurance rather than any skill.

How do I beat someone with a sword who is so very good at defense?

I darted in and left myself open for an attack I hoped she couldn't resist. But she saw it for what it was, and instead took the moment to whirl back and riposte.

"Very nice..." I muttered, comming into my own low stance again, watching her warily. Though in all image this was merely a training match, I felt this was developing into something more. Not just a simple test of skills betwixt us, but almost like an unspoken battle for dominance, which had us at ends, our ways lit only by the lights of our people below, the warmth that in our hearts in the night air about us, which stirred with a frenzy equal to our own.

We paused for that moment, and that moment only to take a last heavy breath, before we both lunged. It seemed however, that we had both switched tacts, as our off hand left the blades and instead came out to try and strike at each other, to distract or at least throw the other off balance.

But they met in midair, and suddenly both hands and blades were locked.

"Not bad, not bad at all!" I grunted, trying to force the blade in her direction to no avail. She did not respond however, but it was there in the firey depths of her eyes. We held again, and I felt her begin to push away.

No no, not like that! It's over now!

I began to spin in towards her as she jumped back, and ducked down as she made a broad swing at head-height that likely would have put a scar across my right temple, and would have left me unconcious for a day. But even I was quicker than that.

As I came down under, I grabbed at her ankle and found that she had been about to lift it anyway, a fortune for me as I jerked it up, throwing her off balance.

My sword arm came down and met her blade, forcing it downwards to the ground, where with a triumphant inner cry, I brought my own foot down on its center, snapping the blade.

Then in the hot and sudden flurry, there we were. With my love on her back, one hand pressed firmly against her collarbone next to her throat to pin, the tip of the dull blade at her heart, my own legs kneeling beside her.

We stared at each other for a long moment, almost thoughtless but at the same time a maelstrom of it raging within. Suddenly my hand slid from her collarbone behind her head, the other moving the blade to toss it across the balcony as I lifted her head to force her lips to meet mine in a savage kiss.

Then she laughed, wiggled free one hand, laced the fingers about the back of Rykounagin's head and pulled his lips down to hers once more. For oddly enough, to be beaten by one so strong, who in turn had come to her, made her feel stonger than ever in turn.

The weak adhere to the weak, and the warrior to the warrior!

Her fingers coiled in his hair then, pulling his head back; a smile played about her lips.

"Well done, my Lord," she said, still panting from their little altercation, something feral swelling within her. Her smile broadened, revealed her fangs for a moment, then unexpectedly softened.

"But the night waxes; it is time for even the owners of the galaxy to rest.

I arose slowly as not to disturb the beauty from its rest, and walked out to the balcony. The sun was rising on the horizon, sending a streak of light out over the city and awaking many of its occupants. Whom I rule over, and whom shall soon not be the only ones.

The echo of a word seemed to whisper into my ear as the thought sent a shudder through my body. "A union..." I let out a quiet whisper of the word, almost looking into the sun before turning back to our chambers. Again, I took a moment to survey that which was before me.

The lavish furs and rugs that lay about upon the warm stone gave a strong impression of that which I had already begun to know, begun to come fond of. However, a thing more interesting to me was the figure of my love who still lay beneath the covers, sleeping as I percieved it, quite soundly.

I crossed back to the bed, and sat down upon the covers, bending slightly to rest upon my palms. I looked over her bronzed flesh, scarlet hair contrasting strongly upon it, playing over her face almost delicately as I pulled it back gently with a fingertip.

Then, the movement equally catlike, she was instantly wide awake and sitting upright, refraining from her usual leap from bed by the presence of Rykounagin. She blinked at him, sharply aware of myriad small aches hither and yon across her body from their little swordplay of the night before. Not that the discomfort of the tiny wounds angered or dismayed her; no, far be it from that.

They were instead considered somewhat along the lines of being badges of honor, won fairly upon the field of battle, even if that field was nothing more than shadow feint.

"Good morning to you as well, my Lord," she replied sweetly enough, although her tone of voice belied the simplicity of the words. Saying nothing further, she merely tossed her head to one side, flipping her tousled locks from about her face as she remained upright in her bed, pinning Rykounagin with a look so steady as to border upon the insolent.

Grimacing as another combat stim enters his bloodstream, Dat takes a few more steps before stopping to return the used stimpack to the medical kit. Last one, he thinks as he stows the kit in its place among his voluminous robes. He resumes his trek through the dense jungle, shrugging his carbine's strap back onto his shoulder and tightening his grip on his force pike, moving as quietly and unobtrusively as he can toward the ships. After two days of sustained hiking, however, even his combat-hardened physique is showing signs of strain. As is his mind, his focus wandering away from the present...

Dat wakes to full awareness without knowing why, instinctively reaching for his blaster carbine. His grip tightens, then relaxes as he realizes that there's no immediate direct threat. A faint sound reaches his ears, but it's hard to tell exactly what it is. Still, his nerves are on edge, nagging distress lingering at the back of his mind. Working his way into his armor, he ponders his next move...

The miles bleed together into one long, painful stride, leaning on his force pike for support as he makes his way up a gentle rise toward what appears to be a break in the trees. A noise off to his right brings him to a sudden stop, dropping the force pike and bringing the blaster carbine to bear. Nothing.. he decides after a few moments of waiting, expectant. An animal... His awareness has been dulled a bit by the constant stress of being alone in potentially hostile territory, exhausted to the edge of his endurance. Yet he continues onward, his mind drifting away again...

Helmet in place, robes falling around him, Dat makes his way down the corridor, trying to project an air of nonchalant purpose. First stop, the room where Shawn was quartered. Empty, but it hasn't been for long. And he left hurriedly as well. More and more unnerved, Dat searches the area, trying to find any sign of the other members of the party. He is ultimately unsuccessful. That nagging unease blossoming into concern, he heads toward the main entrance of the Temple, then outside...

The trees part at the top of the hill and relief fills Dat's mind, the dull metal of the ships gleaming dimly. Ignoring the fighter for now, he boards the freighter. The first thing he notices, of course, is the lack of illumination or any of the usual noises or indicators that were normal on a modern space vessel. He tugs a glow rod from his belt, activating it and surveying the ship. Essential components are missing; power conduits and auxiliary generators in particular. And not just auxiliary generators, either. The main power generation equipment for the ship has been removed rather crudely, sliced cables and sheared bolts in clear evidence. After an exhaustive examination he finds that no power sources are left aboard. The unease grows even stronger in his mind as he slumps into the pilot's seat, setting the glow rod on the console...

Dat hikes in a relatively-straight line for a few miles, not making any particular effort to evade pursuit, then makes a sharp change in course, exercising all of his training to minimize any sign of his passage, all the while knowing that he's at a tremendous disadvantage. Pushing that thought to the back of his mind, he takes his bearings and then begins a meandering, seemingly random walk toward the ships... or where he hopes the ships are...

The glow rod burns dimly on the console, its power cell nearly exhausted. Dat rummages in his pack for a replacement power cell, stopping in mid-motion, holding the fresh cell in his hands. Dropping it to the deck, he dashes to the communications console, removing the maintenance cover and tracing the main power lines. He carefully cuts the cables, then reaches behind him for his force pike. After a moment's work, the enhanced power cells fall into his hand. A faint hope beats back the foreboding in his mind as he patches the high-capacity cells into the system. The panel's indicators begin to glow dimly as Dat clambers up, toggling switches and controls. Not enough power for a normal transmission, but... He touches a few more controls, smiling to himself as he completes the sequence of commands. He is rewarded for his efforts by a barely-audible tone from the console, and one amber indicator in the upper-right corner...

EMERGENCY LOCATOR ACTIVE

He settles back into the pilot's chair again, toggling the glow rod off and sitting in the darkness, staring at the bulkhead...

"Officer on Deck!" he called out, letting his hands then play about his controls as the origin of the bleeps was actively sought out. He didn't hear the Deck Officer come up behind him so much as he felt him; nodding toward his console he opened without preamble.

"I have received an unexpected transmission from the sunward planet of this system, Sir," he announced, nodding toward the board yet again. The DO merely grunted, placed a gloved hand on the steely black surface of Bho'Zhrr's station and leaned upon it as he studied the blips.

He too nodded then, rising effortlessly and silently.

"So I see, Lieutenant," he commented softly. "Have you traced the source?"

"Yessir."

The Lieutenant whirled in his seat, taking a moment to recheck his figures before plunging confidently into his report.

"It's coming from a YT-2400, Sir; how it came to be lost in this misbegotten sector--"

"That will be enough, Lieutenant," his ranking officer interrupted smoothly. Then--

"Send an encrypted acknowledgment, tight beam and scrambled. If the sender is who I believe it to be... or one of several, he should have the wherewithal to decode it. If not--"

He straightened, tugged at his uniform and adjusted his cover.

"General Tarnus will decide what is the most appropriate course of action in that case."

He paused a moment longer.

"Send any reply to the General's ready room," he ordered before he whirled on his heel and swiftly departed the bridge of the massive Super Star Destroyer.

Dat utters a particularly vile curse and checks the connection between the energy cells and the console. The connections are fine; the energy cells are simply exhausted. Murmuring to himself, Dat searches his pack for more of the appropriate energy cells, but comes up empty-handed.

Long had passed the day when the mysterious young Jharu had come into this place, seeking answers to question he could at that time barely form, questions which had triggered such an eruption of replies from the Guardian of Knowledge that it had finally sparked itself to sleep in a chromatic burst of light and noise and Sith magicks. Well he remembered the ensuing arrival of the Dark Lady, coming to him with the equally cryptic request that he take his sweet time in repairing the Library. Of course he obeyed her rather strange request; how could he not?

He straightened and stretched, trying to get the kinks out, for muscles stiffen and tendons creak after one his age had sat still for so long. But at long last his painstaking detail to minutia had paid off; the Revealer was at last repaired, better than ever; a quick check of the calendar informed him that he had managed to drag the task out well over a year.

Perhaps it was two, he thought to himself with a smile, for after stretching his hands naturally lowered to lay quietly on the tabletop in front of him, like twin red birds. His smile lengthened; the Lady had no reason to restore the hands Roan had taken from him.

But she had.

Kindness, pure kindness was all it was. Something their former Dark Lady of the Warriors would have nothing of, may S'slan have mercy on her soul. An ancient memory wafted up from some place dark and vile within him, causing him to shudder and close his eyes against it. But that only made things worse; the image of the platinum haired wild Kreesha danced a tarantelle on his inner lids, taunting him as she so loved to do to all those she considered her minions.

Which, as he recalled, were the Sith in general.

Thus it was that he flung his eyes open again, turning them this way and that as he sought to erase the image of the hellcat from his eyes. And thus it was that he finally noticed a singular event:

The Revealer was trying to reach out to him.

Now his colorful, baby blue eyes widened in surprise.

The Revealer was trying to tell him something, to actively reach out and tell him something!

His modification actually worked--!

Rising to his feet with a groan he tottered to that wonderful device, stood before its wonder in something akin to awe.

How the Sorcerers managed to invent this beautiful thing--

Shaking his sadly crooked horns, he focused upon the Revealer, watching as the series of graduating silvery balls floated and whirled, each one lighting up to deep and brilliant purple before muting back to its original color.

"Yes?" he ventured at length. "Show me, please."

Now the shadows of the Library segued into greener ones, as the Revealer obediently created about him a living image of forested mountain flank. Snow and rock and tree whirled about then, speeding past as he felt himself zooming closer and closer, to what he didn't know, until at last revealed to his old and tired eyes were two tiny, unobtrusive ships. A distinctly brilliant golden spike shot from one of the ships, aimed up toward the heavens at a 68 degree angle.

The image faded and the Library itself popped into view about him.

"Oh dear," he murmured to himself after a moment or two of shocked silence had ensued. Then he got to his feet and departed from the Library, locking it securely behind him, turning away then and heading off in the direction of the Great Temple of the Warriors as fast as his aged legs could carry him.

All right. Blatherpuff it might have been, but a good leader never lightly dismissed such. The truth of the matter was, my troops were becoming quickly bored out of their collective minds; holding a blockade in stealth mode for the length of time we had did not bring dashing adventure and romance into the lives of those whose reasons for joining the Imperial Troops were quite probably just that.

I had to shake my head at myself; I was probably just as bored as the men were, maybe more so. Thus it was that I didn't quite know how I should react to the news the Deck Officer had just brought to me. Luckily my mixed emotions were handily hidden from him by the enigmatic T-visor of my Mandalorian helm.

"That's correct, Sir. An emergency locator beacon. It lasted, oh, approximately fourteen minutes before ceasing; Sir, it was the YT-2400 you had given permission to land, Sir."

I nodded vaguely, for well did I remember who had piloted that vessel down to the seethingly mysterious surface below.

I wonder if he ever found Darra...

Blinking to myself in disgust for wandering offtrack like that, I brought my attention back to the Bridge Officer.

"And you say there has been no reply to our responding hails?"

Another negative shake of his head only heightened my suspicions. Not many knew what was on the two worlds in this far-flung system; indeed, the majority of the troops in this entire blockade hadn't the foggiest notion where they were, let alone why.

If they only knew...

I frowned behind my visor, wondering.

Is this a portent? Is the time fast approaching for a head to head confrontation?

Are we ready for this yet?

I didn't let a hint of this out.

"I want an infiltrator and attendant fighter sent to the position of that distress beacon. Have the pilots sent here to be briefed before they depart."

"Yessir," came the immediate reply, as the Deck Officer saluted snappily and departed.

Not long after....

The two pilots left the General's ready room, wide eyed at what they were about to do, awed in spite of themselves, and busting with the effort to keep the expressions on their faces from showing the fact. Their mission was to be completed in the utmost secrecy: go to the location on the Sith world--

The Sith world...

--and seek out the one who had sent the signal. If friend, return to Relentless with the achieved personnel. If foe...

The two pilots wasted no time. It did not take them long to find their ships, run through a quick but thorough preflight routine, and then leave the immense super star destroyer, slipping easily through the blockade which in turn opened a pathway for them to follow through.

Soon they were in atmosphere, heading down....

Which was at the moment doing what a troposphere does best.

Bolts of lightning sizzled about the cell they were, grumbling, passing through on their direct heading to the origin of the distress signal. They cast an eerie blue glow over the interior of the ships, making the pilots' snowy armor turn the color of dawn before fading once again to white. Only a remnant tendril or two of St. Elmo's flame danced about their airfoils as they continued planetward, grumbling to themselves once more about how quickly the weather had fouled.

Grumbles aside, it takes more than lightning to knock a good Imperial ship from the sky; it wasn't long before they came upon the correct geographic gridzone, homing in on the spot the Relentless's computers had informed them harbored the source of the signal they were seeking.

They landed in a puff of snow and a blast of sleet, settling on either side of the freighter approximately twenty meters on each side.

For a long moment there was no sound but the wail of the wind, the crash of occasional thunder, and the hiss of sleet and ice against the ships' hot engines. Then those crackling ambient noises were augmented by the hiss of hatches opening, and the sounds of armored footfalls as the pilots each left their respective ships and came to an uneasy halt beside them.

Sshtk "Do you see anything yet?" one asked the other.

His companion merely shook his head; gripping their blasters grimly, they set out in a search pattern, closing their ships up tightly in their wake.

A few careful steps bring him close to the two pilots, carbine pointed at the ground, pike end resting on the ground, the shaft held loosely in one hand, looking as nonthreatening as he can in the imposing crimson armor and billowing robes...

This is for those far younger than I, but this information needs to be brought to the Dark Lady.

Huffing and puffing, he at last gained the top, whereupon he moved directly across the great stone courtyard toward a small doorway in the back. This he entered, soon finding himself lost in the whispering, pillared coolness of the Grand Foyer, through which the occasional creak as a warrior armored himself or distant echo of some footstep or other reverberated. He paid these noises scant heed but hurried on, coming at last to the richly carved doors at the rear of the Foyer, the main and yet somehow surprisingly unassuming entrance into the Temple proper.

He stopped at the doors, making certain he was presentable and that his breathing was courteously back to normal. Then he entered, heading down the corridor within, past the Dining hall and several T-intersections until he came to a door of shining, ancient wood, one laid with precious metals and jewels and carved with stories of the past.

Pushing the doors open, he entered into the Receiving Room of the Dark Lord and Lady.

It was empty.

He sighed, fidgeting somewhat, wondering what he should do when a Sith attendant appeared from the unguessable shadows beyond.

"May I help you?" he inquired with a polite bow.

The Librarian bowed in turn, then quickly stated his reason for being here. The Attendant merely smiled coolly, indicated he remain where he was, and with no further ado left to inform the Dark Lady of this recent and seemingly innocuous event.

"Now what," she huffed, exasperated, before moving to the door and flinging it open with a touch of the All. Before her imperious glare was the form of the Receiving Room Attendant, who fell immediately to one knee, his fisted hand over his heart.

"Milady, my Lord, forgive the intrusion, but the Librarian is here with what he proclaims to be news of importance," he said quickly and succinctly, knowing that each unnecessary second he wasted of the Dark Lady's time would be one less second he had to live. For although the young halfling was new to her position, her reputation preceded her.

How I miss the Dark Lady Q'utaro, S'slan rest her soul...

His head snapped up at Rhylla's offhanded reply.

"Go tell him that I'll be along in a moment," she said, then truncated the conversation by turning on her heel and slamming the door in his face. Assured her order would be carried out, she went over to her wardrobe, withdrawing robes of state from its richly scented depths, robes of spidersilk and satin and rich green velvets, shot through with spun gold embroidery and krayt dragon pearl.

Finishing with an elaborately bejeweled headdress, she turned to Rykounagin with a shrug.

Ice chilled his heart.

The Lady Graysith. Oh no--

Determined to discover what had happened to the kind Dark Lady who had restored his hand, the Librarian now let protocol take over. Falling to his knees, he glued his eyes to the stone floor, listening to the rich rustle of cloth as the new Dark lady climbed the dias and settled herself in the smaller of the two thrones which crouched atop it.

"Yes, you may now speak."

The haughty words crashed in his ears like boulders in an avalanche; wincing a little at their harshness, he nodded briefly in a subservient manner and then quickly told her what he had observed.

Silence ensued... then.

"Return to the Library and keep a watch out for any further developments," came an even more imperious command.

Grovelling, he waited prone on the floor until at last he was released by a blessed, "You may go now."

Keeping his eyes riveted to the floor, his entire demeanor one of abject slavery, he backed from the Receiving Room and out into the corridor beyond. Only then did he straightened, a sad look in his tired old eyes, and hurried on his way back to his place, the Library of the Sith...

I'm a Dark Lady, not a scholar! she huffed to herself as she watched the doors come to a silent close in his wake. Only then did she lift one slender finger, motioning to the hovering Attendant who once again materialized from the shadows in the back behind the twin thrones.

"Contact the Captain of the Warriors," she ordered. "See to it that Ch'arlingua is closed. Then--"

She trailed, at a loss.

Then what? She knew there was more, much more than what the majority of her people thought about their current place in Life. How to balance this against the necessity of opening up new avenues.

For opening up new avenues always entailed the expansion of paradigms, and if her people suddenly found themselve thrust into a modern day and time, would they still wish to follow her leadership over them as a whole? Indeed, the warriors had withdrawn from the Triad already at her Father's request; would they adhere to this vow, to then attend to matters against the sorcerers and armorers, if they suddenly discovered they were not the End-All Supreme Power in the Universe, with the time and liberty to expend on such matters?

Or would this discovery make them automatically adhere to the old ways, so as to better hold off against an unknown and possibly hostile future?

ShaRhylla frowned, her head aching from the sudden, unexpected bout of logic and consideration. Indeed, this was not her forte; finally she snorted in exasperation and continued.

"Send up some fighters, to see to whom the signal was sent. If indeed it is possible to discover," she ended, then sending the Attendant off with a wave of one hand.

Then she settled against her throne, glowering into the shadows as she waited to see if Rykounagin would announce his presence there in the Receiving Room or not.

But where had the time gone?

I shook my head and got up from the bed, leaving the chamber to find her, soon finding her sitting, the expression of a cat who was basking in the sun, only to have it stolen away by a small child playing over her face. Oh my... how long have I been lapsed?

What had he missed...

The simple question roiled like thunder in her mind, heightening her anger to something close to fury. She blinked, icily cold, furious that his query should so elegantly footnote her own thoughts of the same situation applied to a far different circumstance.

"A ship has sent a distress signal outward from Phrinnchatka, a ship not berthed in Ch'arlinqua," she said tersely, her teeth gritted, her lip curled slightly to reveal her pearly fangs.

"Danger plays about our doorstep, I can feel it; I think we should postpone the Blood-Hunt until we discover what this threat reveals."

Not moving from her throne, she merely continued to stare down upon him instead, while the fingers of one hand lifted and fell, lifted and fell, as they rat-a-tatted impatiently against the carved arm of the Chair of State in which she sat.

The ranking officer at length replied, his voice tinny and mechanical sounding.

Sshkt. "Imperial Troopers 2378 and 5398, sent from flagship Relentless on rescue mission this position." Sshkt. The words were terse, slicing the air like knives, battle ready. The half of his viewscreen showing his partner's face now blinked to show the surrounding area, as via his link to his fighter a panoramic view of the mountains and forests in approximately a two-kilometer radius was now displayed. As nothing threatening appeared or in any other manner made itself known, the viewscreen darkened briefly before coming back online, this time focused solely on the Imperial robes the stranger in front of him was wearing.

Sshkt. "We are under orders to return you to Relentless, to debrief with General Tarnus himself."

Falling silent, the troopers turned inward toward each other but angled, efficiently bracketing Dat, their blasters loose in their hands in deference to his seemingly innocent demeanor, but ready to raise and fire at a nanosecond's notice.

Sshkt. "If you will accompany us, Sir--"

The words were not so much of a request as they were an order. Silent then, they waited.

His voice and manner show no evidence of his faint ire at taking orders from these troopers, his helmet concealing the touch of distaste that crosses his features. Still, their attitude aside, they /were/ taking him away from this alien planet to somewhere where he can (hopefully) finally rest. Besides, he imagines that, in their place, he would act the same way.

One hand touches the hull of the Infiltrator when a sound from above stops him. Tilting his head to the sky, he's startled to see a flight of fighter craft he doesn't recognize streaking across the horizon. He quickens his pace slightly, clambering into the craft and taking a seat as the pilot climbs into the cockpit as well. The hatch closes with a hiss which fades as the cabin pressurizes. Relaxing slightly, he rests his pike against the bulkhead and closes his eyes.

Random images flit across the backs of his eyelids as he succumbs to fatigue, slipping into a light sleep...

If there was one thing in the entire universe she hated more than anything, it was weakness, and it was precisely that she perceived coming forth from her husband in wave upon wave. Leaning forward a bit, she gripped the arms of her throne.

"If I knew what it was then I wouldn't be so worried now, would I?" she said, biting off each word into an audible chunk. For a moment she remained as she was, then with a sudden sigh she loosened her demeanor and descended from the dias.

"Frankly, I'm surprised at your response, my Lord," she said, putting much emphasis on the final word.

"In fact, I'm surprised to the point of being somewhat disturbed by your reaction; strange, is it not, that you do not seem to care in particular that a ship we are not aware of has sent a call out from K'eel Doba? Is there something you know of that I do not in regards to this matter?

"For a ship in distress should send out a call for help to our people rather than outward, don't you think so? Wouldn't it be more logical, unless of course the ship is not one wishing to be discovered by us, that is.

"And who--" she drew herself up, coming to a halt in front of him.

"Just who do you suppose it is that signal was sent to?

"Remember the time, Rykounagin; this bodes no good for us, no good at all. Mark my words."

Frowning, she turned away from him then and began to pace back and forth in front of the dias. Truly, she had no idea what to do if her suspicions were correct; what if a stronger foe had discovered their presence? What if the Dark Jedi had returned?

What if--

She shook her head, biting her lip, and finally allowed herself to consider the smallest impossibility of it all: the conjecture that even though she brimmed with the All, she still had not learned the full magnitude of her powers.

What if she couldn't stop whatever it was that was going to happen? If indeed anything was.

Then he went directly to the Revealer.

It hovered in mid-air in front of him, orbs of graduated size, platinum silver with a strange greeny-gold sheen upon their surfaces which made them somewhat difficult to gaze upon. For a long moment he stood before them, afraid to speak the words. For the golden Tattoo on the young girl's wrist told the tale; he didn't know if he really wanted to see the path she had traveled to get where she was.

He stared down at his shaking hands, shook his head at himself.

He had to know; he owed it to Her.

"Show me what has happened to the Dark Lady Q'utaro, and all events preceding this up to two standard years ago."

The magick of the Sith is indeed a wonderful thing. Born inherent to them and honed over centuries of use and development, it elevated them in many ways to the status others would consider to be godlike. When in their heyday they ruled the Universe, they did indeed hold it all in their grip.

Literally.

And those with no knowledge of the intricacies could not hope to understand; thus it was that all the Dark Jedi ever managed to take away with them was their Sith lightning and their name.

The Revealer deepened to ebon, flared into ultraviolet brilliance, then steadied into shades of the sea as a three-dimensional image began to form about the Librarian. Day after day whirled into months and then years, and the story of Jharmeen Q'utaro, the Dark Lady of the Warriors was presented to him in a simple and highly accelerated manner.

He stood agog, unbelieving, quaking to his very soul at the sight of That Which Was, yearning to cry out in warning as she was betrayed, taken by the Master, fuming in unfettered fury as her very daughter sent the Masque to confound her people, crying to see her at last truly die...

The images faded. The Library returned.

The Librarian fell to the floor, unconscious, the weight of what he had seen too much for him to bear all at once. Only in the quietude of slumber would he finally be able to assimilate it all.

His last thought was of one strange to him.

Phalomir.

"Alright then. Well, if you're going to get into a mood this morning, vent it on someone else. I seem to recall, while you were busy sleeping in the dark realms, that we were given an important task, which didn't involve Dark Ladies snapping at their Lords, especially when the former forgets their own place."

Before she could retort or snap back, I continued on, now an enraged Aklay tearing through the small bushes and brambles between it and its prey.

He does not care. He wishes not one whit for the Sith.

Only himself--

The thought surprised her as much as did Rykounagin's insouciance. Blinking again, she tossed her head at it, trying to beat it down and away.

It would not settle, refused to give in and disappear.

You do care, don't you, ShaRhylla. For it is in your blood to do so, isn't it? You are the daughter of Roan, are you not, the true blood-heir to the throne.

That one, the one you took upon yourself; what is he? What is he to the Sith?

Imposter, a pale shadow.

Human...

That thought erupted her fury into volcanic proportions, the heat rising up and bursting from her, sending signals to her feet, sending her flying from the Receiving Room, down the corridor, sensing with the All, following Rykounagin's transparent trail like a hunting Noghri, until she came at last to the great courtyard and stopped at the stone balustrade.

Gripping the stone with both hands, her pearly claws scoring marks in the limestone, she peered down at his receding back as he descended pompously toward the street below. A bit away, growing throngs of people showed the time of day; Sith were leaving their homes and going about their business, and here and there eyes turned upward to watch the white-haired apparent stranger descending the steps toward them.

The movement swift and catlike, ShaRhylla leapt atop the balustrade, stood there leaning into the freshening morning breeze which wafted from the cooler streets below, her hair lifting and tendriling about her face as she pointed imperiously down toward Rykounagin.

"You are no Lord!" she cried out, wanting nothing more than to strike him down as he stood, yes, directly into his back. But as long as he bore the Tattoo of Entitlement she dared not murder her Lord.

Instead, she did the next best thing she could think of.

"I denounce you, and this farce of a marriage!" she cried out, raising her voice that all below could hear her and bear witness to the fact.

"Dark Lord you might be by a Tattoo given to you, but I remain Dark Lady by blood.

"And blood now exists between us, Rykounagin. I am Dark Lady for my people, not a dead Lord... nor the pale shadow of one!"

Saying no more she just stood there, an enraged Valkyrie, wishing she could send Rykounagin to his personal Valhalla to face whatever demons he might find there.

Slowly I ascended the steps, a breeze that currently tossed through the city turning my robes about my form, footfall after footfall landing on the steps until I finally stood level with her (Save for the difference given by the baulstrode).

"Get down." I said, moving into the courtyard past her. I knew she would follow, for in her fury she was not likely to let me wander away from her so easily. As soon as she was out of sight of those below, I whirled and grasped her by the front of her own robes, pulling her to me.

"Now you listen. And you listen well. Denounce me all you want, hate me if you will, but I am not going to sit back and watch as you spitefully trample over our people. Your own personal pride, is destroying anything you have ever tried to create. Your narcisistic attitude, merely makes you a fool. If you are willing to cast me aside after I have saved you, and helped you get to where you are, then again, you make yourself all the more a fool."

As I spoke, my voice was firm, not threatening, but blade-sharp. "Now get a hold of yourself. I still love you, and if even one snap is all it takes to crush your own love for me, then, as the sith people say, it is a personal problem. But it will not help your station, nor mine, nor our people, nor our father's dreams be accomplished, if all you can think to do is war against me."

My eyes narrowed, faces inches apart. "Now think about how you answer that very, very carefully. Because it's not your pride up for stakes here. It's the fate of our people; and if you hurt them with your choice, it will not be their fury that comes for you in the very end."

I looked into her eyes, the silence stretching, chaos of thoughts raging in our minds. I knew what had created this was indeed my fault on all counts. Just this morning, and the night before we had been close. But now there was a rift, and though she had created it, it was only one persons fault.

Mine.

"And you're right my love... Without you I am no lord of the sith... I am just a Bastard Lord... Now, help me make our people as great as they once were, and forever now should be."

I merely hoped that she would look past herself for just once.

Then truely see things how they were.

And how they were meant to be.

Bastard Lord indeed...

"How swiftly you change your tune-- again, Rykounagin!" she hissed, remaining stiff in his grasp, her bi-colored eyes boring holes into his as though by that act she could delve directly through his eyes and into his brain and therein wreak as much havoc as only she could dream of.

"First my concern for the possibility of what could be a real danger is so lightly dismissed as-- as a small worry, and now that worry so suddenly seems to have changed hands, and I am now nothing but a selfish, prideful one--"

She bit off anything else that followed, for indeed ire was rising like magma within her, slithering throughout her speech, tripping up the remainder of what she wished to say before it ever managed to reach her tongue. She trembled all the more fiercely until finally, unable to contain her fury any longer, she raised her hand and with a mere touch of the All pushed Rykounagin away from her. His grip on her bodice was strong enough to rip it a bit, but not strong enough to withstand that push; suddenly he found himself slamming into the stone wall of the Temple, unseen by any other than the halfling.

"And oh so suddenly it is your people, human?" she spat, every word now dripping with spite. For of course pride would not let her back down from her course; she did carry the blood of Dark Lord Roan in her veins, after all.

"Do not touch me ever again, and do not for one minute consider yourself Sith--"

She paused a moment, casting a venomous glance at his glowing wrist.

I scowled out at the city. Again, she did not look at the bigger picture, a thing I thought she would have known well, as her father was a great believer in such things. "As I was walking away, I was going to deal with that which you called a threat, which you feared. So let me make my terrible ignorance and stupidity from blood up to you. Tell me your concerns. Forgive me, but having gone betwixt our worlds a dozen times without incident, I do not fear a single transmission, as I myself have made them."

I continued to scowl, now glancing back to her. "The reason I consider it a smaller matter, is because of larger importance is the overall goal. To unite the sith, under us, which, I do hope you will still attend me with, when I do go visit the other lords. Now, make your concerns heard to me, and I shall listen."

We shall see who attends to whose needs, my Lord, she thought to herself as she remained utterly silent, now considering him a strange admixture of something beneath her notice but yet too dangerous to overlook. He merely remained before her, as though what she had spoken had no meaning, as if she somehow was going to change her mind.

A General, once having chosen a course, sticks with it, right or wrong...

Thus had her father once spoken to her.

"For the want of a nail, an entire war can be lost, Rykounagin," she hissed enigmatically before falling silent, not desiring to fill the air with any further empty words, but yet not wishing to turn her back on him.

Her eyes then fell on their mingled Tattoo she had left him with. It glowed quietly, as though trying to reach through to her in a silent attempt to let her save face. But, daughter of Roan that she was, she simply could not.

Swiftly, she pointed at the tattoo, let forth a blaze of the All, and in a manner that Roan had denounced his own inherent Sith magicks and connection to them, now erased their conjoined tatto, first from his wrist, then from her own. Once more both stood with nothing other than the Tattoo of Roan emblazoned upon them, both still glowing gold.

"Go do what you feel is best for our people then, Dark Lord," she said quietly, fiercely.

"I stated I will not suffer the will of a dead Lord or a pale one; I would find my place among my people on my own, not through the vagaries of ghosts and shadows. And that place will be to discover how best to lead them against that--"

She pointed upward, outward, toward the heavens.

"-- which you know as well as I do exists, and hangs over our heads like the Axe of Doom. My people do not need leadership which cannot coincide; better you go groveling back to Father--"

A slight pause, a brief gulp. A straightening, firming, determination now filling her violet-rimmed turquoise eyes.

"--and inform him that whatever it is he planned, I will not stand for it.

"I will block your every attempt in whatever foul thing he has planned, that he is trying to engage by using you, by using me;

"I live, and by S'slan I will rule my people and lead them to peace in this benighted future that they have been dragged into!

"One which you apparently seem to dismiss so lightly."

"So go to your room, dream, and play. For only women, and Dark Lady's, not dark tempered children, may rule the sith."

I turned, and whirled down the steps on which I had been decending upon before she had given her cry. It was a shame really. I had loved her.

A pity now that she would no longer live, or at least have the sanity to regret her choices, when my father's dream, and empire, came to it's full existance.

From her heart; not, however, from her memory.

The tuk'ata, for once, has been wounded-- she thought to herself as once more she watched Rykounagin's back recede from her.

And there is nothing more dangerous than that, in all the Diamond of the Sith...

She remained standing quietly where she was a long time after her ex-husband had departed. Her wrist felt strangely different, her heart...

...as icy as her resolve.

What could Father have been planning, to desire I actually marry that wretch? she pondered to herself, absently rubbing upon her altered tattoo.

Surely he didn't actually wish for a descendent from so paltry a sire!

I will marry a Sith, a strong one, one deserving of the title. A Conflict of Entitlement will ensue, to be sure, but the one I choose, whoever that might be, will win.

Her lip curled slightly as she remembered the ease with which she had pushed Rykounagin from her.

I shall see to that.

Nodding to herself in satisfaction, she waited a moment or two longer to make certain Rykounagin had departed from the Temple entirely. Then she followed in his initial footsteps, making her way down the stepped sides of the great ediface, hiding her identity by a simple manipulation with the All, heading toward the Library of the Sith.

In fact, I wondered briefly what kept Landarian's arrival; I was not at all surprised to see that it was he who was allowed entrance when my equally quiet, "enter," activated the doors to open.

He entered and came directly to my desk, not bothering to sit or salute. I could read the apprehension in his eyes, and knew what it was that had placed it there.

"Sir, the pilots are returning with the acquisition, and report, ahh--"

He paused uncomfortably; I merely smiled grimly behind my visor, knowing what he was going to say, giving him the honor of saying it.

"--several bogies, Sir. They seem to be, ahh--"

Another brief, uncomfortable pause.

"Nothing we've ever encountered before. They do not respond to our hails; Quartermaster gives it a ninety-nine percent probability that they originated on the sunward planet, Sir; the one we retrieved our, ahh-- acquisition from. Sir.

"Shall we engage them?"

He fell silent, chewing his lip, undoubtedly remembering the last time we had encountered those mysterious little fighters that I knew to be Sith.

I shook my head, knowing from far too personal experience the futility of that.

"Nothing would come of it, my friend," I said, rising to my feet and slowly pulling off my helmet as I did so. Reaching a hand up, I absently traced the scar that ran along my jaw and up beyond my eye. From out of nowhere an ancient memory arose of the feral bantha who had thus branded me on Talasea, killing my benefactor, and in the doing acting as a life's nexus of sorts, for it was from there that I went my solitary way in the Bounty Hunter's Guild, growing and gaining more and more expertise, all of which finally led me to--

I blinked, frowning. It wasn't like me to wander off-track like that.

"Under no circumstances is either pilot, or any would-be hero aboard any ship, to try to engage hostilities with the, ahh-- bogies. Track them closely, but do not, I repeat, do not engage them."

I saw the clouds rising in Landarian's eyes, wondered when I should tell him of the strange molecular disintegration beam those marvelous little ships possessed. Recalled the ease with which a certain redhead of my acquaintance, who had come flying to my rescue in such a ship when I was being sucked into another Dark Wannabee's Super Star Destroyer -- sheesh, they always had SSDs, it seems! -- recalled the ease with which she had avoided being caught, wounding Darth Wicked's massive ship before taking off into an entirely too adventurous a future with yours truly.

I kicked myself.

There I go again...

"Track them, but do nothing else. When the acquisition comes aboard, I want him brought directly to me.

"I cannot stress the importance of this; I'll fill you in soon, my friend."

I laid a comradely hand upon Landarian's shoulder, one not given in thus a manner too often; then turning away I retrieved my helmet and put it on.

"That's a promise you can depend on," I said as I returned to my desk and sat down behind it, there to await the arrival of whoever it was the Troopers had plucked from the face of K'eel Doba.

The senior-ranking pilot tilts his helmeted head to the side slightly, then gestures toward one of the doors at the periphery of the massive hangar. "...Sir... The General will see you. Now." Apparently the presence of the Sith ships in orbit has unsettled even these two combat-hardened, veteran pilots, as they seem to be a bit more brusque and businesslike than before when they fall in to escort Dat to the lift.

To be truthful, even Dat has his misgivings. Not fear, exactly, but the same kind of unsettled feeling he got when he first realized that he was an... artifact, a man out of time. Closing his eyes, he allows this feeling to slip away into an icy calm, washing away from his mind like dust beneath a chill rain.

The trek from the hangar to the ship's flag offices passes uneventfully, save for the occasional odd glance from some of those they pass along the way. Dat is slowly getting used to this, the same quizzical expression on the faces of so many he meets.

Here we go, my friend...

"Enter," I stated, straightening in my seat, my gloved hands laying atop my desk. The inlaid computer screen scrolled images and characters at me; I gave them a brief glance before raising my face, now to see the arrival of someone whose appearance proclaimed him to be from the past.

And the possibility of that is probably greater than you might believe, Tarnus, I chided myself.

More than one entity in this location has risen from the dead of late.

"I am glad to find you safe and well, considering," I opened, rising a bit from my seat in greeting before settling down once more into it. The red-cloaked figure remained silent, but appeared to loosen a touch upon hearing the tone of my voice, which I was striving to keep somewhere between friendly and neutral. He relaxed his stance ever so slightly, his fingers twitching automatically for the weapon he had been divested of upon his boarding.

I grinned behind my helmet.

I know that feeling, pal...

"May I ask who you are, and inquire as to the circumstances leading to you engaging the locator beacon?" I asked then, indicating he take a seat in front of me. Next to him, Landarian sidled closer, and took a chair third over from the one I indicated, undoubtedly attempting to keep this man at ease.

No use making him feel trapped; he must feel that way enough as it was.

Dat closes his eyes and rubs his temples, as one is apt to do when faced with bizarre time travel events. He gathers himself and continues, "I reentered realspace near Endor in the vicinity of Eagle Enterprises SSD Hornett, where I requested and was granted clearance to dock. Aboard Hornett I encountered the company's owner, Aaron Barnes, who arranged a private communication with Admiral Pallaeon. The Admiral confirmed my identity to Captain Barnes, as well as filling me in on some of the events which have come to pass during the years I've missed." He smiles wryly at Tarnus, "Needless to say, I was taken aback and needed some time to assimilate this information. Soon after, though, I was introduced to Jedi Master Shawn Petrolu, as well as a... creature... called Kesh and a damned shifty Bothan female who managed to rifle my fighter while I was detained."

"Captain Barnes was in the process of organizing a mission to rescue two of his crewmen, as well as the Jedi Shayla Petrolu and one other individual, a pilot. Obviously Shawn was tasked to go along, as were the Bothan and Kesh. I was asked to accompany them; Barnes felt that my combat experience would be a worthwhile addition to this mission team. Before we left, however, the Bothan, caught up in some kind of racial hatred, fled Hornett and left sensor range before the crew could track her." Shrugging slightly, he says, half to himself, "Frankly, Sir, we were better off without her."

Dat gestures vaguely to the deck, and by extension to the planet below, "The two ships that your pilots encountered on the surface are those that belonged to our team. We left Hornett aboard the freighter, and Master Petrolu acquired the other craft from General Ahem. At this point, we also picked up another member of our intrepid band," the fatigue bleeding through in his use of semi-comical catchphrases, "a Force-Sensitive human female named Serisa Ker. She was more of a hindrance than a help, but I suppose that a fledgling Jedi is best served by training with another Jedi." That last sentence came through slightly-clenched teeth, his burning hatred for the Jedi flaring unexpectedly before being squelched by reason. He takes a breath and continues the narrative.

"We were allowed through the blockade around the planet, and landed where your crew found our ships. With very little guidance regarding where we were headed, we simply proceeded to make our way through the wilderness. Along the way we encountered a small village, and there we found a family of these strange creatures who called themselves Sith. I'd describe them, but I would imagine that you know at least as much as I do, else this blockade would be unnecessary." Involuntarily his eyes rake over Tarnus, seeking any reaction at all; old habits die hard. "Kesh, against our better judgement, attacked and killed one member of this family, severely wounding Serisa in the process. I did the best that I could, but could only help so much with a field medkit. She entered a Jedi healing trance until we were found and escorted to the Temple."

Dat breaks his momentary silence with a deep breath, "On arriving at the Temple, we were ushered into a large room, where we encountered those we were sent to find, as well as the woman called Graysith, as well as Shayla's consort Erik, Captain Danner, an alien droid of some kind and some sort of Sith... pet." His brow furrows at this last bit, unable to adequately describe the last two arrivals. "Serisa was taken away for medical attention and I slipped to the periphery of the group, listening and observing silently."

"After a time and much discussion, another individual was escorted in, a young woman called JhinDarra." At that, he stops for an instant, trying to cover his gaffe as his mind whirls. General Tarnus... Tarnus... A spectral voice replays in his head, "...You speak of JhinDarra Jhin'Dar Tarnus Danner..." He continues, barely skipping a beat, "The crowd discussed things of which I have little knowledge; I felt like a fifth wheel in all of this. Soon after, however, Graysith recommended that everyone retire for the evening, to meet again the next day."

Relieved to be almost done with the narrative, dulled by exhaustion, he quickens the pace of his speech slightly. "I woke suddenly the next day with a terrible sense of foreboding and left my appointed quarters to search for the others. I was unable to find anyone, or to find anyone who would even /tell/ me where they went. In anticipation of a need for a quick escape, I chose to leave the Temple compound and hike through the wilderness back to the ships. Two full days and a field kit's worth of combat stims later, I arrived only to find the ships rather crudely depowered, their reactor cores and auxiliary generators hacked out. Fortunately, force pikes use high-capacity energy cells. I was able to chain them together and power the communications system enough to send a distress signal. The power level was marginal even for that, though, and failed completely when what I assume to be your signal began to come in." He shrugs, "The rest, as they say, is history; your pilots can describe it more lucidly than I can at this point. I apologize if my narrative has been meandering and confusing; I've been operating in potentially-hostile territory without rest for more than two days..."

The crowds were as busy as ever, and it took a deal of effort to weave his way through them, finally reaching the entrance to the temple. He grasped the slate in his hands a bit more tightly now, though there was merely a serving-woman crossing the grounds, likely from the night shift, now going home to rest.

Aside from her, there was merely a patrol of sith approaching from the other direction. He decided to question them, as they were at the temple.

"Excuse me, know you the wearabouts of the Lady ShaRhylla? I have important information for her." His voice was that of a sith.

Darra. He mentioned Darra.

Jhin'Darra, to be exact, and there could be only one...

My head whirled as my heart leapt into my throat, all in the space of mere seconds.

She was there, on the planet. Or had been, at least. Damn Petrolu for not contacting me with this!

Another second ticked by; I jerked fractionally, coming back to reality just in time to hear the remainder of his narrative.

"...in potentially hostile territory for more than two days..."

Now that caught my attention fully. With the greatest effort of my life, it seemed, I forced aside the jubilation of having finally tracked my daughter -- at least this far -- and focused upon the nuances carried between the lines of his final statement.

He had ended up alone on K'eel Doba. The ships were pilfered, ransacked, depowered. The others--

Gone.

Again.

I was torn. On one hand, I wanted nothing more than to send troops blazing to the surface, there to scour and hunt and cleanse until their objective was found. However, common sense forbade this; I knew only too well of the powers involved here. Hadn't I tangled with them before, on more than one occasion? Powers of such strength and capability that it would indeed be better to woo rather than bury them, if the latter was indeed at all possible.

Didn't the Dark Jedi accomplish this once, at least according to what Galen told you? the thought insinuated itself into my mind.

Anything once accomplished can be done so again...

I shook my head fractionally, striving to still the images and conflicts and what ifs and maybes now battling for dominance within me. Leaning forward a little, I forced myself to place all focus directly upon the Imperial Guard--

!!!

--who stood at stiff attention before me.

"Recall again, if you will, the moments in which you stood before this-- Graysith, when all were speaking of things beyond your knowledge.

"Do you remember anything specific, anything at all?"

The warriors glanced at each other, wondering why such a human would ask them. "The port has been ordered closed by the authority of the Dark Lady."

I growled quietly, tempted to drag my sleeve up over my arm to show them where the true authority lay in the conversation. However, I had the sneaking suspicion it would not be the best way to resolve such a conflict, the other options involving talking my way past, or gutting them.

Well talking to them likely wouldn't work, if my dear beloved had commnaded them, and I was quite sure gutting them, though effective, would raise questions about the attitude and sanity of the dark lord. "Very well." I turned and stole back into the streets, cursing her name again.

She is pressing a very, very dear line. If she continues to bar father's goals, then she will be removed. I hope for her own good she will see the err of her ways.

Closed for the Day...

"Not for the Dark Lady, you aren't!" she growled beneath her breath as with a simple push she opened the doors, revealing a dark and equally looming interior.

All seemed silent as a tomb.

Shrugging off an inexplicable chill, she strode haughtily inside. "Where--" she began, only to stop at the sight of the unconscious Librarian. Her eyes then raised to the mystery that swirled in greeny-gold splendor above his head.

She blinked, knowing within her soul of souls that the mysterious thing was none other than the Revealer the Librarian had spoken of. That it could be apparently misused, and to dire effects, was rather blatantly obvious.

This did not slow her down in the slightest. Lifting her chin, she strode to the Revealer and stopped directly in front of it. There she cast a quick glance about, seeking some sort of access terminal or other means by which one used the thing.

There was nothing in her immediate vicinity but air and the slumbering ancient Sith; letting out a chuff of annoyance, she faced the Revealer once again.

"And just how is it that you work?" she snorted aloud.

"Let me reveal this to you..."

ShaRhylla's involuntary step back was truncated as all about her images began to coalesce from the very air. Before she could gather her wits those images quickly sequed to that of the Librarian, now awake and standing before the silvery-greeny orbs, asking his question. The unsettling image of an image of images danced about her; then with a seeming snuffle of gentle laughter they faded away.

The orbs returned to their original color once again.

ShaRhylla blinked, then smiled as she realized she now understood how to use the Revealer. Drawing herself upright, she spoke purposely to it.

"Show me what's up there now," she commanded imperiously, one hand raised and pointing upward.

"Up there, beyond; show me where the last transmission to be sent there actually went."

The Revealer seemed to blink, then once again altered in appearance as its spherical surfaces suddenly segued into shades of crimson and gold and mahogany. The air about ShaRhylla grew dark, then gradually lightened as millions upon millions of colorful specks suddenly popped into existence.

As did the titanic grouping of immense and unknown ships, which the Revealer thoughtfully zoomed back to now show completely surrounded the entire Khar Delban system.

The halfling gawked, suddenly afraid.

She was right, she was right, and that bastard of a Lord she had married didn't once ask for proof. He just up and assumed...

Another thought.

"Revealer," she asked, knowing it's name.

"Has the one called Rykounagin had any knowledge of this?"

The atmosphere blinked.

"Yes-ss-sss..." came a whisper which might only have been the sighing of the wind...

Thousands of images flicker past his mind's eye as some deeply-ingrained part of his training comes to the forefront, his face taking slackening somewhat as the flood slows to a trickle, then freezes on a particular picture, that of a group of people gathered in the center of a firelit room on the planet below. Dat surrenders his consciousness, mentally "stepping aside" as the scene begins to play for him. His voice, mannerisms and personality are temporarily subsumed beneath muted characterizations of each individual as they speak in turn.

Dat nods to nothing, a vague gesture, before speaking with a Jedi's serene detachment, "My friends and I have been sent here at the request of Captain Aaron Barnes, to seek out two of his employees and Galen Danner. He was very concerned as to their safety after their departure from the Hornett some time ago..." Dat's eyes flit from their current point of focus, very specifically landing on two empty places in space, "...as I was about yours, and yours."

His eyes shift to take in the rest of the room, "I'm glad to see that..." A very un-Jedi-like look of surprise fills his eyes, obvious though muted by the translation from memory to reality, "Terrin!? Aaron told me that you were dead..."

He moves almost imperceptibly, taking another position and persona as he continues, face taut, yet completely blank, "It would appear he was quite alive, if our observations appear most correct. But where are our manners? We are the Onidorei. And you are?"

Dat's face takes on a more animated cast, his features and manner gaining a sense of inexplicable femininity, and his left hand closes slightly around nothing before he walks forward, moving around an unseen obstacle. He murmurs something too low to hear, then continues forward, a grin growing on his face until, on any other face but Dat's, it would light up the room. "It would appear that rumors of his death were highly exaggerated as well." His hand moves to stroke an unseen object on his shoulder, head tilting a bit to the side, smiling.

A turn to the right, and the feminine persona is gone, replaced by a smuggler's scalawag half-grin. "It's a ahhh...long story. Let's just say having a couple of loyal friends and someone that really and truly loves you is enough to defeat insurmountable odds." His right hand mirrors his earlier movement, closing slightly around nothing before he speaks again, "It's good to see you again, Shawn. It's been..." His voice fades away as he seems to see something across the 'room', just behind where Tarnus is sitting. His smile gives way to vague amazement, voice shrinking away to almost nothing. "Galen..."

"Yeah?" Dat seems to ask himself, turning to face the same point was looking at earlier, just behind the general, his voice once again gaining a higher, feminine tone, impish happiness flowing over his face like water... Just before giving way to an expression whose emotional content is so confused and heartwrenching that even the filter of Dat's muted performance is insufficient to dim its impact...

He holds this position for what must seem like an eternity before lurching slightly to the side, seeming to be a bit unsteady on his feet. "Woah, baby, who is that!?" he slurs, his voice reminiscent of a youngish male.

The unsteadiness is immediately replaced by unsurpassed, feline grace as he takes three steps forward, enveloping an invisible someone in his arms for a few moments before seeming to turn the spectre in his arms, bringing 'them' to face Tarnus just in front of the desk. His eyes hold a deep intensity as they seem to lock on to the General's, counterbalanced by a certain... vacancy, reminding all present that Dat is, at the moment, merely a puppet of the scene replaying in real time in his mind.

"You speak of JhinDarra Jhin'Dar Tarnus Danner..."

Tenderly, he seems to draw the nothingness closer to him, seeking to comfort the ghost.

His arms fall away, crossing in front of him, holding himself in a somewhat frightened embrace, turning his head aside and tilting his neck as if to look into the eyes of someone who is standing beside and behind him, a puzzled expression crossing his features. "Wha-- what do you mean? I am of the house Q'utaro; this you have told me, Mother. I and my stepsister, ShaRhylla, are your children..." His voice is the pale echo of a young woman in her teens, and his face evokes a broad spectrum of emotions before settling on a realization. "M-mother--?"

Dat withdraws a few steps, and seems to return to himself slightly. Not the 'himself' in the here and now, but the 'himself' that, to him, is standing aloof and silent in the large room's periphery, his eyes making a slow survey of the space in his mind, seemingly tracking people as they move.

After a few moments of this, he takes a few steps to the left and speaks in the faintly roguish voice from earlier, somewhat more subdued. "Now, I don't want to interrupt the moment, or your own thoughts, but as we were discussing before, we have a very real threat facing us... and a future to protect." His eyes shift to that point just in front of Tarnus where he had stood earlier. "I suggest we start figuring out what we're going to do to protect that said future, and to minimize the threat facing us or at least be able to meet it head on. And we know that ShaRhylla is here. We need to find out exactly what it is she is up to... and ensure the safety of others in the meantime."

A deep, powerful voice spills from his lips as his face becomes contemplative, his hand rising to a bit below shoulder height, as if resting on something or someone. “You surprise me, Terrin Danner. I feel your desire to let this moment linger, but I hear also the sense to your words. But bear in mind the heavy weight of this moment, for all involved, and give a little time to those who need to let the past resolve itself, even a trifle.” He tilts his head down and to the side, seeming to look at someone standing just beneath his hand before returning his eyes to their previous position and speaking again, a touch more quietly, "I believe strongly that ShaRylla is being used by Roan, but even if she were a puppet she must be the one we face immediately. If she has raised followers among the Sith who would remain loyal to her even after the Dark Lady’s death is proven false, then we must prepare for that. We must also assume that Roan has supplied her with powers or devices to aid her. But we must also reach the vials in the ship immediately, that was something I specifically overheard as a key point in the Master’s plan.” His dark eyes shift slightly downward again, turning slightly to the side. “This I can do, my lady. The rest must wait until we are all ready.” A slight, tentative pause, then, “Your strength inspires me, my lady, but you know I am here for you, should you need me.”

"Her strength inspires you to do what?" he scoffs a bit drunkenly, returning unsteadily to the center of the room. "Remenisce by the light of the fire? And yet you speak of all of these plots and of the risk they pose to us and to those we love? Now is the time, and you are a Dark Lord..." Dat accentuates that slightly slurred remark by curling his fingers in the air to form quotation marks. "So what do you propose we do? Or are the others of us going to have to start plotting our strategy, 'cause buddy, I guarantee you we've done it before, and we're all ready to do it again, with or without the help of a Dark Lord."

Dat's face fills with indignation, his hand rising suddenly and clasping around something, lifting the imaginary something off of the ground with little obvious effort. He leans in slightly, speaking to the something... Someone... in his hand, his voice a low, imposing rumble. “For the love of Sla’an! We can spare one single moment for this reunion, for all involved. I appreciate your eagerness, but never – NEVER – mock my station.” As if realziing what he's just done, Dat lowers and relaxes his hand, faintly abashed. “And we all need to be together and clear as to what our plans are. There is a complicated plot put forth by a powerful enemy at work here, we can ill afford personal matters to stand in our way.”

Dat once again moves left, this time favoring his right leg, breathing heavily and wheezing slightly. "My lady, as joyous as this occassion is sure to be, there are problems. In your absence there has been a... rift of sorts. Some Sith have openly embraced your daughter as their Dark Lady. Others such as myself have steadfastly remained your servants..." His voice fades away and he pauses, closing his eyes, wincing, and seeming to struggle for the strength to continue. "Though the timing be imperfect, I beg your command so that we might deal with this impending threat."

“Salandaar,” he rumbles, straightening and regaining the same powerful bearing as a few moments earlier.. “It is good to know you survived the attack. Please, have Shayla attend to your wounds before you proceed.”

“My lady,” he speaks a bit more softly as he turns, “I shall take Panthar with me. After we quickly freshen and find more suitable clothing, I wish to determine the status of the ship in which we arrived, and if the vials have been removed. It is then perhaps imperative to find your daughter and deal with the usurpation of your position. I shall change and return shortly.” A peculiar, affectionate gesture of his hand, and he begins to move off. Dat nods to an unseen someone as he walks, moving to the room's periphery before returning to the center, once again a facet of himself.

Upon arriving in the center of the room, however, he resumes the stooped, wounded persona. "No no Lord, the healers have been doing well enough. Besides, the group of you, if you mind not my saying, seem quite exhausted already. If the Dark Lady does not mind, I shall return to the infirmary. As pleased as I am to see that you are alive and well, merely coming here has wearied me." With that, he bows, clutching imagined superficial chest wounds, and hobbles to the room's periphery, seeming to almost [i]slink away, before once again returning to the center of the room...

...And to the left wall, facing the wall, bead bowed, hands clenched tightly in fists. He takes a deep breath, seemingly summoning calm before raising his head and turning to face the center of the room. He manages to smile, his lip still pale from where he was biting it so furiously. "Thank you, sister." By this point, this persona seems to be recovering its grace, regaining a bearing that can only be described as regal. A mirthless smile crosses his face as he speaks, voice as smooth as silk, bringing to mind images of queens from throughout the ages. "You must forgive Lord Phalomir," he says, shifting his gaze, "for he has been through much. But... Take care, sir. For we have yet far to go." He gestures to something in the center of the room before moving to stand just in front of the desk.

"Perhaps Salandaar is correct. I am weary, you must be even more so; we have passed through many travails to return here that you might be reunited, and have more ahead. I believe we should retire..." He claps his hands loudly, an obvious summons from a noble to a servant.

He backs away from the desk then, gazing once more around the room as he does so, the ghosts fading suddenly from his view as his back collides with the back wall. Awareness floods back into his eyes, which lock onto the General across the room. He steps into the exact center of the room, his voice carefully neutral.

"...Report complete, General."

What in Hell's Seven Circles, as Galen was so wont to say, was going on upon those Sith worlds? Certainly far, far more than a mere awakening of a civilization--

--and my daughter was mixed up smack in the middle of it all!

It was only due to the years I had stood in pro temp for Actar that none of my apprehensions came even close to showing, in either my bearing or in the tone of my voice with which I now addressed Major Cyprios.

"Thank you, Sir," I said, both softly and genuinely. I nodded my head to him, softening the atmosphere for a moment before allowing military mein to return. Reaching to a comm-link, I opened a channel, spoke quietly into it; then I rose to my feet, stared the Major square in the eye.

This time, however, I was taking in more then what I had first observed.

"It would do you worlds of good to get some rest and then food, Major," I said, no longer nodding but standing square on my feet in front of him.

He stared back, seeming to sway a bit unsteadily before firming.

I let the moment soften, just a tad, once more.

"What you have just revealed is of great use to the Empire, Major. Should you like, I would be more than happy to take you aboard Relentless, with Captain Landarian's permission, of course. It isn't many who can report in such--"

I paused a moment, my eyes growing a little vague. Luckily he could not see this; I focused on him again as if nothing had happened.

"Detail."

Now I came around my desk, just as the doors slid open to reveal an escort waiting in the corridor without. They saluted smartly, then waited for the one they had been summoned here for.

"These men will escort you to quarters, and show you where you can find food. Please take my offer under consideration; I shall be calling for you again in the very near future."

"I will consider your offer, General." With the helmet in place, his emotional veil and distance are once again present as he once again falls into the role his armor, earned with blood and tears, compels him to play.

He takes a step back, nods slightly to acknowledge the Captain, and turns precisely to face the guard / escort troop. Speaking to none of them in particular, or to all of them, his command voice breaks forth. "I am ready."

The troops stand at attention as he moves into their midst. Against all odds, this small experience fills his heart with martial pride; he's pleased to see that the old standards, at least here, haven't fallen as far as one might expect. A quiet order over the comlink from the senior trooper starts the band moving forward down the passageway toward the nearest lift. The group, Dat included, walks in perfect step, a picture of military perfection.

Three decks and a few hundred yards later, the group comes to a halt in front of yet another nondescript door. The placard indicates that behind this door lie visiting officer's quarters. The senior trooper speaks, confirming this.

"Your quarters, Sir. Will there be anything else?"

"Very well." Dat replies. "No, Sergeant. That will be all."

Without another look, he keys open the door and steps inside. The door closes to the sounds of the Sergeant's posting of the guards outside.

Dat sighs to himself as he moves into the room, leaving a trail of crimson from the doorway to the nearest chair. Helmet, robe, armored torso, armored sleeves, gloves... He sits down gingerly, finally forcing himself out of his combat awareness. Absently he reaches up to massage the tattoo on his shoulder, the symbol of the Empire, and the accompanying scar just beneath, the identity he forsook when he accepted his commission into the Guard.

Bending over and rifling through his pack, he manages to find a field ration. He opens the "food" and activates the self-heating panel beneath the main course...

...The ration sits, uneaten, on the table's edge as fatigue claims Dat, his hand falling to rest atop the long line of short scars along his forearm.

The door to my ready room whooshed shut. I stood a moment, then yanked my helmet off, and cut my eyes to Landarian's.

His were as filled with wonder and worry as my own.

"I'll get the staff," I said unnecessarily as I moved to my desk, opened a private link, called forth the highest brass in the blockade. One after another; my ready room resounded with one tinny, "Yessir," after another, each going further to announce their estimated time of arrival.

I chewed my lip briefly, set a time a half-cycle from the latest ETA. Shot this off to all involved, then closed up the link.

I turned back to Landarian, who merely opened his mouth, closed it. My lip curled at this, and not with anything close to derision. Now I bent, opened a small panel on the underside of my desk, withdrew an intricately designed, and somehow very ancient looking bottle, whose glimmering depths glowed a verdant and vivid green.

"Compliments of those whose direction now lies in our hands, my friend," I said as I then poured ourselves a couple of stiff shots from the bottle I had managed to appropriate the last time I was on K'eel Doba.

The last time...

The halfling stood before the now silent Revealer, her rage growing by leaps and bounds as the sighing echoes of its last sibilant statement, single word that it was, misted softly into the shadows.

He knew. The damned traitor knew! And he had the utter gall to--

Her seething thoughts were abruptly interrupted as a strange feeling came over her. Blinking, she stopped in her mental tracks, at first seeking outward but then realizing that this was like seeking a proverbial needle in a ryll-stack. So with great effort she quieted, and let the feeling come to her again, that she might then identify it more easily.

It was with something of a start that the realized it was coming from her wrist...

Scarcely daring to look, she slowly took hold of the sleeve of her gown of state, pushed it up, turned her arm over...

It lay there, intricate and bound to her forever, as black and barren as a starless night...

An instinctive wail rose up within her; gnashing her teeth into her lips was the only thing she could do to prevent it from escaping altogether. Casting her bi-colored eyes upon the Revealer again, she choked out yet another Question.

"S-show me... Mother..."

Once more images rippled into life about her, this time images of green and gray, bearing upon their backs the sudden assurety of Life so overwhelming that it seemed even Death could not win in this place.

And in the middle of it all were two happily embracing figures.

She snarled aloud at that, provoking the Revealer into slamming the images into obscurity.

No. No no no no NO!

Now her pearly-clawed hands fisted, and she began pacing the confines of the Library.

Father. He would know what to do; I know how he... feels about her, I know he will help...

Nodding to herself then, secure that a new path to her desires now lay before her, she quickly pulled down the sleeve of her gown, determined that no one would ever discover her secret.

I shall speak with Father of this, and together we shall find a way to destroy her for good.

And I will be the true Dark Lady of the Warriors our people really needs.

With that she flounced from the Library, and hurriedly returned to the Temple, where she sequestered herself in her suites, not to be disturbed by anyone upon pain of a slow and hideous death.

I looked at my arm, wrenching my robes back, and looked at one of the black tattoos on my arm; the more unique, and important.

Black, was the keyword here.

Malcina Cobridos...

She was alive. The witch of flaming hair and serpant tongue, was alive.

With this grim realization, I hid my arm and began to steal towards the palace. Two bitches to deal with now. One, immediately. The other, soon to follow.

I stole up the steps of the temple, following some sith carrying a dataslate and a spear, and began to search the temple for the former of the two formentioned women. Finally, upon finding two warriors outside her suites, I decided it was likely that this was the place.

I moved to the doors, and saw the warriors begin to shift to bar my path. "If you take another step, to get in my way, I will have you both executed before the day is through. Now get out of my sight." I spat venomously, forcing the doors open with more than a touch of angered strength.

Before the guards could follow or protest, I siezed the sides of the doors and slammed them shut behind me, grabbing a chair and throwing it against the door precisely in place to "bar" it.

I could already see my dear sweet ex rising with hatred on her face, quite possibly mirroring mine (though there was a lack of time or material to check).

We stood, staring hard at each other, before I finally spoke. "This is larger than the both of us. We must work together to deal with this, or it will be the end, and likely death, of us both. Truce?"

My guards-- she thought briefly, another mote of ire rising to mingle with the rest; then she squelched it with the realization that they undoubtedly thought he was yet their Dark Lord.

And indeed now, who is? the taunting whisper came as she moved carefully away from the ornate chair in which she had been quietly sitting, should matters evolve to where she needed more room to maneuver.

There is none; only Mother...

She couldn't help but snort to herself at the thought, one coming so closely upon the heels of her newly hatching plans.

What could her dear Father have been thinking? How could he ever expect that the Tattoo of Entitlement he had graced her ex-husband with ever stand upon its own merit, being passed to the young man after Roan had died?

Indeed, in their brief foray into legitimate leadership, who had been the true anchor, and who the chain?

Her eyes slitted, pushing away those thoughts. Now was not the time for simple recriminations; now was the time to think, as difficult as that might be for her. She remained quiet, studying Rykounagin for a long moment, before tensing slightly, ready to respond with catlike rapidity and grace should it become necessary.

"And for whom do you so urgently stive to obtain the ends, this as you so vaguely put it-- for Father--"

She paused, tensing further.

"Or yourself?"

Another heartbeat passed before she finished with, "I at least have the courage to admit I do this for myself, that by the doing I remain strong, and in that strength find the correct path I must tread to lead my people in the direction and manner that they deserve!"

She had guile, and everything she said had a second purpose. It was always to angle against whoever she dealt with, or to in the end cut their feet out from under them.

"But, I also see a greater purpose here. If you and I fight each other, we weaken each other. If we work together, then we strengthen each other. Father's goals are best for the people, I'm sure you see. Your mothers are against our people, despite her position."

My smile faded now. "Yes, I work for myself, but only because I was raised to do so. In serving father I serve my own purposes, the same going for you."

I bowed my head slightly. "I propose that we stop fighting... I will allow you to lead how this turns. But if you steer away from the greater good of his plan, then I will break the contract."

"I will never stop fighting you, Rykounagin!" she hissed, crouching a bit in preparation should he decide to attack her.

"You can just go crawling back to Father and admit your failure; I have been used once, and I have no desire to be used again, whether by Father or by you!

"I am afraid the Lady is not well... she is suffering delusions, which I fear is the cause of her recent hysteria. Please, keep her in her chambers until I return, for her own good. I'm deeply concerned that she may give commands that could damage our people. If she threatens you or commands you in any way, disregard it, for I assure you my protection from her maddened wrath."

I gave a salute of honor to the warriors, who returned it, obviously prideful that they had been assigned such an important task. "Here, a magical aid to help you." I moved to the door, and pushed my hand against it, giving it a ward similar to that which had been in place the year previous, save that it was set to trigger upon the touching of the handle from within.

"Now, I have business to attend. With honor, stout sith." I turned, and moved down the corridor quickly, making my exit from the temple with all haste. My goal was not the starport anymore, but a much better form of transportation.

Two years ago, I had used it only once, to take me to the place in which my father now existed. It would require a small trek into the mountains, and to a cave in which I had found my first master.

As he did to me before, she growled to herself, now pacing back into her room and going out onto the balcony. From there she merely watched, keeping herself well hidden in the shadows while beneath her Rykounagin departed the Temple, disappearing into the city streets below.

For a long time she remained there, staring down upon Phrinnchatka, and for one small moment she wondered if she had made a grave error.

For is it not best to keep your friends close, and your enemies even closer?

Shaking her head then, she straightened, drawing in a deep breath of the fresh morning air. Then with the ease of one born inherent to the All, she reached out a casual hand and opened a Portal in the shimmering air in front of her.

I remembered the route, but memory would only get me so far, as the course was perilous, and could easily send any man or sith spinning down to ground below, to their death.

Damn the circumstances that send me here. I thought, hand reaching up to grasp another handhold, only four meters under the shelf that formed the edge of the cliff. Damn the woman who forces it.

I grunted at the exertion as my own sweat froze on my forehead, the temperature dropping harshly near the entrance to the cave. Didn't remember that part.

My hand slid very slowly up the rock to grip the top, a layer of ice and frost upon the rock making this last part more dangerous than any other part of the climb. Keeping weight off of the hand, lest it slip, I moved my legs up independantly, crouching my body into a small ball at the edge.

I lifted the hand attop away, and conjured the lotus, turning it to drive it into the ice and rock, then, with surity that it was secure, placed all my weight into an upwards motion and flung myself over the blade onto the small cliff, back slamming hard into the ice and rock, body protesting with flaming pain.

I panted, laying there for a time, then tenderly picked myself up into a quadreped form, and slowly, in that hunched position moved towards the cave, an icey wind blowing out from it, warning me away from what it held inside. I knew what was inside, and unfortunately, it was my goal.

I stepped into the cave and the wind stopped, all perfectly still save for myself, and a crevice at the back of the cave, little more than a crack, barely big enough for a man to pass through.

Silently, I began to shed the layers of clothing upon my body, and began to force my way through the crack, the rock scratching at my flesh, now only clothed in the basic mesh that I wore beneath the robes, slowly forcing my way into it's tight embrace as I had two years ago, when I had first explored this tiny crevass. Stilling my mind then, I remained absolutely frozen, awaiting connection with those existing in a realm most others could never hope to touch except, perhaps, in their most horrible of nightmares.

It had happened before, albeit unexpectedly. Surely it would happen again.

And it was then that the chill of rock against my skin began to burn in comparison to the iciness which reached slyly out to take me...

(((OOC: Rykounagin moves into the Darker Realms in "The Siege of a Soul" in this forum, thankyou.)))

They froze as well, eyes yet glued to the screen I had just turned off.

I put down my drink, shifted in my seat.

"Well, gentlemen?" I broke the silence, then waited.

Another moment or two of shocked silence spread out like ripples from a stone tossed into a lake, before breaking out into a quietly mad babble of comments. I merely smiled grimly behind my mask, raised a finger until order restored itself.

A Captain of one of the troop transports, battle-proven for the markings on his uniform, rose to his feet.

"Sir," he said, nodding in respect -- for I had done away with the otherwise obligatory salutes during this hastily assembled meeting --

"Sir, do I understand it correctly that upon the planets we are blockading are-- are Sith?"

He sent eyes widened with incredulosity in my direction.

I tilted my head toward him, understanding how he was feeling. For many had grumbled and scoffed quietly at the beginning of this conference, refusing to believe my introductory remarks...

...until they had heard Major Cyprios's report.

Well, perhaps that isn't entirely accurate, I thought to myself as the Captain regained his seat.

For while the Major's report indicated a growing thunderstorm brewing within this system, one which shows hints of spilling out into the galaxy in general, nowhere did he specifically mention the word Sith

They're just going to have to trust me on that one, at least for now...

I lifted my face.

"Yes," I said simply, grinding home that very thought and all it's dangling attendants.

Cricket noises filled the room for a moment before all hell then broke loose. And within that hell there coalsced but one single demand--

Retrieve this Major Cyprios, get him here on the double! There are questions which must not only be verified, but asked as well!

I nodded, waved the clamor back into the lower murmer of discussion as, putting it into the background for a moment, I ordered just that.

"Yessir!" my comm acquiesced crisply, snkking to a close and remaining quiet for a bit until...

Snkk. "Sir, begging your pardon, but Major Cyprios is not in the quarters assigned to him." Snkk

I frowned, cocked an ear toward the others. The mumuring was continuing, now seeming to revolve around a single denominator: should we attack these planets before they could threaten us, or not?

My staff seemed to be balanced on that issue...

"Find him, and bring him here on the double!" I growled into the comm, incongruously angered at the Major not for his being out of quarters...

...but for having forced the issue before us out into the open.

One would be right.

That selfsame lone figure dominates the center of the training mat in one of the ship's many training rooms, this one deserted, old-fashioned. He cuts a striking figure, his motions deceptively easy and dangerously beautiful as he spars against opponents that exist only in his mind. Visions flicker before him, friends and enemies alike. Enemies first, of course, dispatched without mercy. Then teammates, friends, comrades. Their assault is the most violent of all, unrelenting, with the boundless energy of the warrior dead. Each opponent in this battle represents a single scar on his forearm, a single letter, a single trip planetside. Dat's movements become a bit more frenzied, straining his reflexes to the limit, and even still he gives ground before this unseen enemy. His strength begins to wane, the power behind his movements draining slowly away until--

"--jor Cyprios!"

The trooper's insistent voice breaks him from his battle meditation and he returns to the here and now. Turning on legs rubbery from the energy he poured into his ersatz combat, he notices the white-clad figure, as well as four others. Dropping into a relaxed stance, he replies, breathing heavily, "Yes, Sergeant?"

"Sir, General Tarnus requires your presence in his ready room," the senior stormtrooper answers. Both he and the rest of the squad seem a bit impatient, as if they've been there for a bit.

Dat closes his eyes and somehow finds calmness deep within himself, banishing the ghosts of the past to their proper place. "I understand. Let's go." With that, he takes his place once again in the center of the escort squad, moving with perfect precision through the door to the lift, then out of the lift and down the corridor to his destination.

The sergeant's head tilts ever-so-slightly to the side as he sends a communication to General Tarnus, then he keys the door to the ready room open. The sergeant and one other trooper take places flanking the inside of the door, weapons at the ready, the other three taking similar positions in the corridor.

Dat enters last, the door sliding closed behind him. Ahead lies a conference table manned by the fleet's senior officers, some of whose faces display some degree consternation, some a touch of confusion, some completely implacable... And the helmeted figure at the head of the table, unreadable as always.

...and released all hell as it rose upright.

"Major, how did you come to be on this planet..."

"...weapons capability; did you see anything of their munitions dumps when you were planetside..."

"...orce users, everyone knows that, but there have always been only two; how many Darths did you see within this system, Major--?"

"Ships! There have been bogeys in-system; Major, is this system the source of those mysterious ships who cut through--"

"How well are you accepted in their midst, Major--?"

"What do they look like?"

What do they look like.

The helmeted figure raised a hand, and by that simple motion brought the cacophony to an abrupt halt. Before him, the Captains and Admirals and scattered officers of lesser rating all closed their collective mouths en masse, and fell into a somewhat dubious silence.

"Major--?" came the gentle, commanding prompt from the helmeted one, who then settled himself more comfortably in his seat, taking his drink in hand once again.

“Admiral, the detailed circumstances by which I arrived on the planet below are available in the record of my initial debrief by General Tarnus, but the short of it is that I was dispatched as a member of a search party from the private vessel Hornett to find and retrieve some missing crewmembers.”

“My exploration of the surface, Colonel, was decidedly limited. In this capacity, however, I saw no particular mass storage of weapons. Of course, given the alien nature of the planet and its inhabitants, there is no way for me to even be sure that I would recognize a weapon even if I were to see it.”

“I saw no evidence of any Force-sensitive individuals on the planet save those in my party, and those we were sent to rescue. I must then recommend, Sir, based on my limited experience, that we not make any assumptions regarding the nature of this race's possible abilities, or lack thereof.”

“I saw a flight of four fighter craft that I must assume belong to the indigenous species, though I didn't see enough to be able to estimate their capabilities.”

“We were treated quite well, though I would surmise that it was more because of the influence of one member of the party we were sent to rescue, as opposed to any particular benevolence on the part of the planet's citizenry.”

“The Sith I encountered were powerful creatures, reddish humanoids with varying shapes and sizes of horns budding from their heads. Still, I must state again that my sampling of the population was exceedingly limited.”

Dat returns his gaze to Tarnus once again, still at stiff attention. “General, the things I know are woefully few. The only thing I can recommend at this point is to anticipate anything.”

For I knew what else had to be told, and I couldn't help but tense for the onslaught I knew would be coming when I finished--

"Except--"

I paused a bit, swallowed. Then I leaned forward, folding my hands together and laying them on the table.

"Except that some of these, er-- Sith possess a power inconceivable to us. It is a power which surpasses the Force our intrepid Jedi use so handily, a power I suspect would put any ancient Darth to shame."

Eyes shot in my direction, wide with varying stages of surprise and disbelief. Mouths opened; I raised a finger, stilling all in their collective seats.

"You must believe me, gentlemen; you already have seen what those ships can do."

That little reminder gave each and every member of my staff pause; silence continued to stretch about the conference room while I debated to myself which would be the best course to follow at this point. However--

"There is one more item; my daughter, as some of you may already know, was suspected to be upon one of these worlds; now Major Cyprios has verified this."

I drew in a shuddery breath, trembling momentarily in anger.

Damn the Jedi anyway--!

"From the Major's somewhat remarkable report, I can only conclude that not only is she present upon the world these people call K'eel Doba, but she apparently has some-- connection with those in power there. At least that is what I have come to believe after listening to his preliminary report."

Mouths dropped open, I merely shook my head quickly, succinctly--

How much do they need to know at this point? Is it truly necessary to divulge the depth of that connection, held not only by my daughter but by my ex-wife as well, and more importantly, her dear and deadly sister?

Again I shook my head, this time at myself.

"Gentlemen, as outrageous as this might all seem to be, there is more. I have reason to believe the Yuuzhan Vong are planning another foray into our galaxy."

Another tacit pause, filled as each and every officer present seemed to shudder, grunt, as if sucker punched. But now, softened by what they had seen with their own eyes of the little Sith fighters, augmented by Major Cyprios's report, they believed.

I drew in a deep breath.

"Any suggestions as where to go from here, gentlemen?" I turned to look at the rigid form of Cyprios.

"Major? Please feel free to add your thoughts as well..."

"I'm afraid that you have me at a bit of a disadvantage, General. Due to my... unique circumstances... many of the matters you mention are outside my realm of knowledge. Other than mentioning the obvious and recommending that we obtain more information by any means necessary that doesn't endanger the fleet or the Empire, I can provide no substantive counsel without acquainting myself more thoroughly with the matter at hand."

"Your offer is much appreciated, and accepted, Major," I stated, rising halfway to my feet before sinking back into my chair again.

"Do not belittle yourself or the knowledge you carry, Major," I then continued.

"Though this is a time far in your future, you carry abilities that none of my officers could ever achieve. And that would be the knowledge of how to deal with... dark powers."

I pause, directing an enigmatic look his way. Another low murmur erupts, for although not having the experience per se, each officer present knows precisely what it is I am talking about.

As for Major Cyprios--

He lived it.

"I am sure that your experience in this area will be more than beneficial to you, and the troops I send with you."

I pause a moment, feeling his eyes pin to me, knowing he already knows what I wish of him.

"Major, I would like you to take a recon team to the surface of K'eel Doba, there to find my daughter and bring her back. During your stay onplanet your mission is to further make... positive contact with the Sith government."

I stopped a moment, giving others a chance to enter in their two cent's worth. No one spoke; sighing inwardly, I continued.

"There is fast coming a time when this entire galaxy, by necessity, will have to unite; already there are many, many systems who do not balk at the reforms Actar has put into motion. It would behoove us greatly -- and I cannot place enough emphasis on the last -- to have these worlds and the power they carry not necessarily under our wing but standing with us."

For even with the collected armies of the systems alluded to, and knowing what I know of both the Vong and the Sith--

--not to mention a certain red-haired female of my acquaintance--

I stopped my thoughts before they went any further than that, refusing to come close to thinking of the barest hint of the possibility of defeat.

"See what you can do, Major."

I smiled faintly, a slightly wicked glint in my eye. "We'll see how it goes, wont we?" I turned and stepped through the portal...

...calling back through it. "When this is all done, I'm sure whoever thinks for you will be pleased!"

I darted from the cave beyond the reach of my father's very short temper, and began my scale down the cliff, muttering to myself as I did so.

"The squad stands ready for the General's pre-mission inspection and final briefing, Colonel."

Dat waits for a response, then reviews the small assemblage of stormtroopers in the hangar once more. Three rows of four troopers stand in the middle of the mostly-deserted room, the squad's senior noncom taking his place just off to the side of the first rank. A pilot stands by each of the three craft in the bay, one fighter flanking each side of a larger shuttle.

After acquainting himself with as much information as he could find on the alien threats at hand, Dat had chosen a small group of stormtroopers comprised of personnel from multiple disciplines. Competent combat veterans all, they had spent the last days training almost nonstop, learning to work as a cohesive unit. They had done well so far, but the biggest test was yet to come, down on the foreboding planet below.

Dat hears the door to the corridor begin to open behind him and executes a perfect about face, calling his small unit to attention. The troopers respond in perfect unison as General Tarnus arrives.

"You are about to descend into the unknown, gentlemen," I began without preamble, coming to a halt before them, my personal guards on either side and slightly to my back.

"Below is a world from beyond the mists of legend: it is a world called K'eel Doba and is inhabited by a race of beings called the Sith."

I paused a moment to let the unspoken gasps of astonishment settle, then went on.

"These are indeed a real species, men; they existed here in the outreaches up until four thousand years ago... and have recently returned to life."

Not a murmur at that; all eyes cut quickly to Major Cyprios, then returned forward. I proceeded as if nothing had happened.

"From what little intelligence our sources have retrieved, I can report this race is a tall people, muscularly built, bipedal, horned, fanged, and red of skin. Their government has compartmentalized into three areas: warriors, armorers, and..."

I paused a blink.

"Sorcerers."

Now a murmur rippled through the hanger; I pushed it down by raising one gauntleted hand.

"Yes, sorcerers; these are a magickal people. They have powers unknown to us, ships with remarkable ability, strength beyond that of a human, and use something beyond the Force that even a jedi cannot fully understand. But--

"They are mortal. So far, at least to my knowledge, they do not appear to be overly aggressive toward others in the Galaxy, preferring to remain hidden here in the Unknown Fringes."

So far; I couldn't help but think darkly to myself. Clearing my throat to get back on track, I continued.

"Gentlemen, I have a daughter who is on this world. She is fair of skin, red-haired, blue-eyed, approximately 5'4" and in her 20's. After years of hunting, I have come to find her reported as being in the capital city of Phrinnchatka. Your first priority is to find her and bring her safely here to me. Your second priority is to recon with the Sith peoples that we might set up a liason between the two of us. With the powers they have been reported to possess, they will prove to be an asset in the far more dangerous days to come.

"Finally, I want as detailed a report as possible as to their weapons capability: ground weaponry, if any; ships, armament, if and how they might prove a threat to the Empire rather than an asset."

Not necessary to inform the men of the incoming Vong... at least, not at this time.

I shifted a little, let my glance sweep across the troops arrayed before me. They stood tall and proud and eager to go.

I nodded, lifted a hand.

I currently had one foot lounged out over the small set of steps ascending to the throne, the other drawn up to my chest. I had not given up the guise of dark lord presently, for doing so would only cause a ruccas amongst the people. As the dark lady had seen fit to disappear, the blood hunt had been postponed, as she had suggested, though this was to my own distate, and the mutterings of the sith warriors, who had been eager to partake in such a tradition.

Where the blazes had she gone to? My thoughts of the last two days, had been first, how to deal with the postponement and the growing discontent of the warriors. The second part being of how to deal with my disappeared counterpart. And what to do when she had finally returned.

It was here that the halfling had fled in her anger against Rykounagin... and then later, as she thought more of it, anger against her own father as well. The former lent her a cold and solidly growing strength; the latter...

Simply froze her heart in her breast.

How dare they... how dare they both! she fumed into the bloody silence for the umpteenth time.

Used... I have only been used... I have ALWAYS been used...!

Something seemed to glitter at her from beyond her peripheral vision; she ignored it, letting her fury grow even more dark, more icy, into greater heights of passion.

Love--pah. A silly, useless thing. Such is not meant for a warrior, a warrioress, a true leader--

A true Sith!

Something inside her sat up quickly as that thought rambled through her mind for the thousandth time since she had come to this place. What she sought, what she expected to find, even she did not know.

She only knew she had to flee them, that she had to find strength, to firm herself even more, to achieve such a degree of iciness that not even the entire planetary heat of Sullust could ever warm her again. She had been told of this place, of the sly darkness hiding within its brooding walls, and so had come here...

The opulantly attired suites of the Dark Lord and Lady of the Warriors stood in silent coolness, shadows the only occupants, memories laying soft and loose in the corners. Amidst the silent furniture and trappings there suddenly reverberated a strange ripping sound, as a tear seemed to rip itself into being out of the very atmosphere.

Graysith stepped quietly into her suites, took a casual glance about. All seemed exactly as she had left it; even the bed was still rumpled from her last night here with Phalomir.

She frowned, waved a hand. The bed obligingly made iself.

As Shayla followed Graysith through the portal and into the Dark Lady's quarters, the fire in her look had died down significantly.

After all, a little voice whispered in her head, What does it matter if he thinks you needed him or not? In the end, all that matters is that the task was accomplished. That which had happened...

...simply had happened, and things were what they were. All else was inconsequential. Still, something did need to be cleared up...

Stepping completely through the portal, Shayla's greeny-blues met Graysith's violet eyes. She was keenly aware that Graysith hadn't a clue who they had just left behind...

"I was not certain, although his mannerism seemed similar to how I recall Thoran's as being," she commented lightly, turning away to approach the thick, velvet draperies against one wall. One finger raised; they opened, revealing a great stone balcony beyond, one decorated with tastefully scattered plants and vases, and culminating with an immense marble balustrade. She went to the balustrade, placed her hands upon it and leaned out. It was evening; the sun was lowering in the west, and a cooling breeze wafted up from the darkening city below, setting the tendrils of her hair to coiling about her face as if they were living vines.

"We did what was necessary, Shayla," she went on in seeming non sequiteur. "Both Erik and Thoran had seen us physically; by dealing with them in the manner that we did we leave the remainder of the party with nothing but suspicions of our presence on Dagobah. Not a certainty, and certainly not a certainty that we have then left. All will still suspect we remain there, somewhere; this gives us time to begin setting strategies into motion.

"There is much to do, my Sister," she finished in a soft voice, as after sweeping a final gaze over the city below she turned round to look back into her suites, now leaning with her back against the balustrade.

"First of all I have a daughter who has been... unruly. Is there anything you might know that would help me decide how I in turn should be dealing with her?"

...and she had interacted with... him.

"I did encounter your daughter here before we left for the Darker Realms to retrieve your spirit," she observed. "She had been acting as the Dark Lady of the Warriors, as we had suspected before...

...and after your soul was taken others were able to confirm her tatoo of Entitlement was golden. Now that your spirit and body are one again..."

She trailed, glancing at Graysith's Tattoo of Entitlement, which was shimmering in splended gold. "Hers would be affected, would it not?" She paused at this frowning in deep concentration, trying to remember all that occurred. "She wanted to be the Dark Lady, at least by all appearances, and may have some clue as to the altercation of her declared destiny. There was another with her the last I saw her..."

A pause, a thought. "You will recall him, an assassin by the name of Rykounagin."

Quieting again, a momentary flash of black crossed her features. Then it faded. "ShaRylla seemed to be working together, as one before we departed K'eel Doba. And we most certainly have enough infomation to know that Rykounagin is entangled in the plans of Dark Lord Roan."

She pursed her lips, considering. "I wonder if ShaRhylla is aware of this and the possiblity that she is being used in a plan not of her own making?"

"Indeed, my daughter has been more than unruly!" she said in a low whisper before falling silent, thinking. As she thought, her eye fell to her own Tattoo of Entitlement, glowing in wondrous golden splendor on her wrist.

"She is probably more entangled than you believe, my Adept," she then went on as she moved away fromt he balustrade and came back into the suites. Once there she approached the fireplace that loomed against one wall; with the lifting of a finger she set a fire to blazing merrily within it, warming the room and truncating the progress of the steadily encroaching shadows.

"And knowing my daughter, in all probability she is most unhappy about it. That, combined with the fact that she undoubtedly knows I have returned, more than likely makes has set her to balancing on a thin razor's edge. We know she wants power, for did she not falsely proclaim my death earlier, to take the Dark Ladyship upon herself?

"Perhaps she might be lenient to joining us after all, especially if she feels her father and the young Rykounagin have been using her to their own ends."

Turning away from the fire, she studied Shayla for a moment longer.

...those in our party at the time mentioned that he too had a golden tatoo after your soul was taken."

Pausing at that, Shayla stretched out into her mind, recalling details of her past connection with Graysith when she had gone to K'eel Doba to speak with Rykounagin, who had been calling for the Empire to come meet him on the planet.

When he had then told Graysith about his adoption by one he'd thought was Lord Aelvedaar at the time.

"His tatoo was not golden when you spoke with him and he identified the dopleganger of Aelvedaar as his adoptive father, was it? How could your death bring upon the change in his tatoo if he would be in the line of the Dark Lords? How would Rhylla achieving Dark Ladyship in turn cause his tatoo to blaze golden as well?"

"Her tattoo would revert to the Entitled gold upon my death, as she would be next in line to act as Dark Lady, there being no Dark Lord available with the death of Roan.

"If Rykounagin's tattoo was also golden, then the only way it could be thus would be via marriage... and more than likely through the marriage to ShaRhylla."

She paused as the implications of what she had just said sunk in.

"Why would she marry Rykounagin?" she wondered, one hand going to her mouth, the fingers playing about her lips.

"To what purpose? I know this lad a little bit; his mannerisms alone would be enough to distance ShaRhylla, as a steed refuses its feed when ill."

She turned wide eyes Shayla's way.

Pursing her lips then, Shayla's greeny-blue eyes turned a bit vague yet deep and thoughtful. "How shall we proceed now, my Sister? And what of Dark Lord Roan and his own plans?"

Trailing, Shayla considered her own words. "You know," she then continued, her words at first seeming random, "When the Master took your soul and we found him in the Darker Realms with it he claimed to be protecting you from the Dark Lord. However, we did at one time believe the Master was working with Lord Roan. The Master said the Dark Lord had done something to the Tower within the Darker Realms, and had destroyed it..."

She quieted for another moment, her frown growing even more dark. "I don't know if you can recall this, you were in spirit form still at the time," Shayla noted. "But the Master told us that Dark Lord Roan had destroyed the tower with the Finger of R'lous...

...and that he used something to enhance the Finger, something which also destroyed the very spirit of the Tower."

Shayla frowned. "What games are afoot, my Sister?"

"The Nar Kelba--" she breathed scarcely above a whisper. Blinking then, she forced herself back from reverie, let her hands drop loose against her sides once more.

"The Nar Kelba; well you know of this, my Adept, for it was you who took me for aid when Galen and Terrin first took the Claw from me. When I later retrieved the Claw, it was without the Nar Kelba; do you think it now could somehow be in the hands of Roan?"

She paused a moment to stare into the dancing flames of the fire in the hearth.

...but should we perhaps take the nekk by the reigns and act now? For what is yours has been taken, and should be reclaimed. The Warriors are most likely being lead by ShaRhylla and this Rykounagin...

"What you say has merit," she agreed as she then moved off toward one corner of the spacious chamber, where there hung a rich velvet bell-pull. With no further ado, she gave it a sharp yank.

It seemed mere seconds had passed before there came a discreet knock upon her door. Graysith moved to open it, revealing a sharp-horned servant standing without.

"You rang, my lady Sha-" he began before dragging himself to an utterly shocked halt in mid-word. His deep, storm-gray eyes flicked quickly down, a lightning glance encompassed Jharmeen's wrist. He then closed his eyes, tilting his head down respectfully.

"Welcome home, Milady," he said, the very embodiment of Sith propriety.

Graysith didn't give him any time to dwell on any unspoken questions he might have.

"Fetch the Lady ShaRhylla, and bid her come to my suites," she commanded, the order demanding, her voice soft but steely.

The servant bowed his head.

"As you wish, Milady," he replied, bowed, then backed away and set off down the corridor.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Time passed. Graysith spent much of it pacing the confines of her chambers, every now and then going out to gaze over the city which spread out in glowing splendor below.

How many times have I stood here, she thought to herself.

How I love this sight... as much as I do these people. Indeed, I could not return to my old life even if given the opportunity to do so--

The sun had entirely set when her reveries were broken by a quiet knock on her door. Graysith nodded to Shayla, letting her answer the call this time.

"Yes?" the Dark Lady of the Warriors said when the opened door revealed the same servant standing in the corridor once again. This time all trace of surprise and possible insouciance was entirely erased from his bearing. In fact, he looked as if he was ready to throw himself at her feet and beg for mercy.

"The- the Lady ShaRhylla seems to have gone missing," he finally blurted, refraining from wringing his hands only by great dint of effort.

"No one seems to know where she has gotten herself off to, Milady."

Not knowing what else to say, he fell silent, standing in the corridor, his head bowed, his arms crossed upon his chest, his hands fisted. Every so often a ripple seemed to course through his body--

He expects me to retaliate by striking out at him! Graysith thought, now letting her own brow wrinkle in combined dismay and anger.

How has my daughter fared in her brief foray into Dark Ladyship? From the bearing of this servant, one would think she was not the most beloved of royalty.

She sighed a little, then lifted her hand in dismissal.

"Thank you, you may go now," she said quietly, then nodded to Shayla. The young Adept followed the unspoken order and closed the door, following Graysith back into her chambers where the Dark Lady had taken a seat upon a soft setee.

"Ideas you would share with me, my friend?" she asked softly, her eyes dark and deep and utterly unfathomable.

She paused, rubbing her chin thoughtfully, pondering the likelyhood of the ideas forming in her mind. "You said that you did not believe this Rykounagin had traits Rhylla would endear to herself," Shayla observed. "While they were working with one another when last we were here, married even...

...what if something went arwy between them? I wonder if the boy is still here, somewhere, or if he has departed as well...

"Whether they have had a spat or not is irrelevant!" she snapped, not knowing for a certainty of course but somehow suspecting that Rykounagin's presence in her daughter's life had indeed more than likely some sort of bearing on her disappearance.

"What matters is that the people believe she is yet their Lady, perhaps that he is their Lord!"

Her voice rose in shaking anger, nipping each word off with precise clarity.

"If she cannot be found, perhaps he can; this sort of command is not one a Lady gives forth from her bedchambers. Come, Shayla; it is time we visit the Throne Room, to let the Temple know I have arrived, and to put out a serious search for my misbehaving child.

"As well as for the lad, Rykounagin!"

Saying nothing further, she swept to her wardrobe, and from there withdrew her most royal robe of state. Deep royal blue it was, rich like the most expensive of velvets, each shimmering fiber tipped with ultraviolet so that it seemed to glow of its own accord. Delicate yet ornate embroideries of pearl and silver chased the robes, woven skillfully into shining strips of silvery fabric and Krayt dragon pearls. A platinum, pearl and diamond tiara acted as crown; turning away, she eyed Shayla one moment before reaching back inside.

This time the robes were deep maroon, spun with gold and encrusted with citrine and topaz. A small golded circlet, adorned with golden and russet leaves, lay in Graysith's hand, waitng to be placed upon Shayla's head.

"If my Adept you are, with a place within this great society, then you must dress the part, my dear," she said, her voice deceptively soft, her eyes blazing like sparkling amethysts in her head.

She was ready.

"I am ready, my Sister," Shayla stated then, taking Graysith's side. Departing the Dark Lady's chambers altogether then, the two women gracefully walked through the corridors of the Temple, occassionally drawing carefully veiled looks of surprise from a Sith here or there, most managing to hold their surprise at bay. At length, however, they did arrive in the Throne room, whereupon they were met with the sight of a young man dressed in robes of silk, the look in his eyes dark and brooding. Shayla arched one eyebrow, glancing to Graysith.

And this is how one would claim leadership of the Sith, by sitting and brooding while his Lady is missing? Shayla couldn't help but think darkly.

She said no such thing aloud, however, but instead waited for Graysith's lead.

Afterall, here I had very little power. "I suppose my time here is up." I said softly, descending the small steps from the throne. "I did think you'd come for your chair eventually... now that you're here, I can leave the sith for a time, assured that no woe will beget them..."

I ceased my steps, turning my head slightly, still watching them. "Will you be needing an update of the times? Or may I go look for my wife?" I did not even hesitate to use the same title I had two days previously used, for it was my intent to reclaim that same title very soon.

How would he know of my death, to welcome me to the living? she thought to herself, her brows now beginning to lower just a touch. For the majority of the warriors knew not of this when I passed on--

And he does so with such casual aplomb, as if rising from the death is so commonplace an affair!

She said nothing, merely cut her eyes to Shayla. Her Adept, sensing eyes upon her, glanced quickly back, dark anger floating deeply within her own pair. A silent communication flickered between the two women, then Graysith returned a steady gaze to the lad.

"Your wife?" she said, taking one regal step forward.

"Perhaps we might... help. I do have command of a planet full of warriors, and they are most excellent hunters."

She forced herself to keep her own manner mild, well aware that Rykounagin had a link with a powerful enemy, remembering his volatile nature, and not wanting by any rash actions of her own to force events to suddenly turn...

Unpleasant.

I lowered my gaze for a moment, again wondering where she would have gone, before looking up. "Before I go, I should tell you now that there is an event of importance that had been postponed, and would be a good thing for your own popularity to have brought forth. The blood hunt is upon us, and it's delay has brought many frowns to the faces of the sith. I would recommend going ahead with it."

"I believe that if refreshments are in order, they shall be procured by my own desire," she said, raising one hand gracefully as if in casual gesture. The raised arm was the one bearing her Tattoo of Entitlement; as her hand raised the sleeve draped back, clearly exposing its glowing splendor upon her wrist.

She did not bother to look down, instead letting her glance flick meaningfully toward Rykounagin's own sleeve-enshrouded wrist.

"What rites that need to be followed shall be," she then said, now moving forward once again toward the dias. Coming up to where Rykounagin stood paused about two-thirds of the way down, she stopped, with Shayla moving smoothly to flank his other side. Turning abruptly, well within the perimeter of Rykounagin's personal space, she sent a steely look directly into his eyes.

"You speak of my daughter as though she is nothing more than a possession," she hissed, every word dripping with venom, her tone laced with ebon nuance.

"Take a care, Rykounagin; if wife she is indeed to you--"

Again she let her eyes drop toward his hidden wrist, seeking confirmation to his words.

"--she may indeed prove far more than you can handle. As was, apparently, the position of Dark Lord, however brief a term that it was."

A pregnant pause ensued in which she pinned Rykounagin with a dangerous stare, one which clearly let him know her awareness of the fact that while ShaRhylla was missing--

--something apparently a surprise to the Sith as judged by the servant's earlier reaction to her return--

--he seemed only to have brooded upon the Throne, alone, apparently unwilling to act as a proper Dark Lord should regarding the matter. And then there was the cancellation of the Blood Hunt...

By whose authority? she wondered quickly, knowing the probable answer as soon as the question formed in her head.

And yet there was no counter-action, no order to reinstate the Hunt.

She didn't move, she said no more. She merely stood intimately close to Rykounagin, pinning his eyes with hers, her jaw working slightly as she clenched her teeth in barely restrained anger. Then before she could give in and do something rash she forced herself away, moved up the dias, and took her rightful seat upon the Throne of the Dark Lady of the Warriors.

With that, he whirled out of the doors to the chambers beyond, stalking from the temple, with every intent of finding his erstwhile heart, and bringing her back to finish this nasty business.

And when this is all done, I'll be sure to be the one to kick her headless body down the steps.

"Brave words, spoken rashly, don't you think so my Sister?" she said as bit by bit her anger began to settle. She did not allow it to disappear entirely though, for she was well aware of the fact that she had indeed placed Rykounagin in a position where he could not react but otherwise.

In that regard, his anger is indeed justified, she thought, the smile fading just a little.

"But words we must not dismiss lightly, for I fear that one is like an adder, striking from the shadows when one is least aware of its presence. It would do us good to be alert, Shayla."

With that she turned to other matters, summoning the Second by tugging upon a cleverly hidden bell-pull. Somewhat to her consternation, it was not the faithful Salandaar who approached, but another Sith. He entered the Throne Room, not quite able to totally conceal his surprise at the oddness of the hour in which he had been called. Not to mention who it was to call him forth.

"Yes, my- Milady?" he said courteously, bowing at the base of the dias.

"Assemble the Captains, and the clan Heads," Graysith said, her tone neither imperious nor giving.

"I have been-- away from my duties for far too lengthy a time, and it would appear there is much needing to be put aright."

"As you wish," the Second replied smoothly, bowing once before departing the Throne Room. Graysith watched him go, then turned to Shayla.

"When matters of state have been settled, I believe I have found a task for you, my dear," she said, settling into the throne as one hand caressed the richly carved arm of it.

"I would have you follow Rykounagin, and keep an eye on what it is that he does. For we need to keep ourselves apprised as to his affairs; it is something of an awkward thing to use the Octahedron for this use, although there are ways this can yet be done."

She paused a moment, searching Shayla's face, determining if the young woman was indeed up to the task looming ahead of her.

"Strength comes to those who seek it in the correct manner, Shayla.

"Remember that."

It was at this moment that the doors into the Throne Room opened, spilling forth a group of about twenty Sith. All were highly muscled, upright, secure in their strengths and abilities. All paused a bare moment en masse, apparently shaken from their iron-bound aplomb by the sight of who it was sitting upon the Throne. Saying nothing more, they approached the dias and came to a halt. All heads dropped briefly toward the floor as one stepped forth, his eyes climbing to hers in apparent respect.

It was Kelvendar.

Graysith raised a hand, nipping off the words he would have spoken before he could voice them.

"I have been away, and my position temporarily taken by the Lady ShaRhylla and her--" A brief pause. "--husband.

"I now return to find my daughter has gone missing.

"Find her."

He remained however, a data-slate that had been intended for ShaRhylla still grasped in his hands. Tenatively he spoke. "I have a message for the Dark Lady... regarding the craft in orbit..." he held it out, his head bowed, mind racing to comprehend how this changed things.

"And that message is what, Captain?" she prompted.

"You may speak freely before my-- my new Second."

What does he plan? she wondered to herself, thinking nothing but dark thoughts about her sister's once love.

Pulling herself out of momentary reverie, she addressed the patiently waiting Kelvendar.

"Thank you, good Captain," she said. "Please notify the other captains of this information, with my direction that it stays within their knowledge only. Once this is accomplished, I wish for you to take a fighter and go into large solar equatorial orbit about our system, but make certain you stay well below the confines of the-- unknown ships. From this vantage point you may observe proceedings, and keep me informed should there be any change in activity."

She paused a moment, taking in the wide-eyed look he could not help but conceal.

"Our fighters are no match for these ships, Captain, and we must have surveillance over them. Hmmm--"

A brief pause for quick consideration.

"Instead, I suggest an orbit within the solar corona; this will appear as if you are monitoring our red dwarf sun rather than these...

"Strangers."

He shoved the data slate into one of the other captains hands, and merely said. "Read it, and share the information. Keep it amongst the captains."

Trailing another moment, Shayla then turned to Graysith's request of her. "I should go and quickly prepare myself for departure in order to follow this...
...Rykounagin, while his signature is still firmly in my mind. While he seemed willing enough to simply give up his title as Dark Lord...

...his last little threat speaks for itself." Something dark flashed in Shayla's eyes with these words. "It would be my pleasure to watch his every move, and to cut any action he and his darker ally would take against you off at the wrist."

"A good idea," she said simply, shifting in her seat a little before that smile segued into something a bit darker. That darkness was mirrored in her eyes; now a corner of one lip curled upward, giving her features a somewhat feral appearance.

"Be my eyes and my ears, Shayla; remember, we shall remain in constant contact with each other through the Link I maintain with you. If Rykounagin should attempt any evil upon you that you cannot handle alone, I shall be with you in an instant."

The hand which so lightly caressed Shayla's face now removed itself, reached outward toward the entrance to the Throne Room.

"But rest assured, I shall give you the time you need to deal with him of your own device, should the opp-- that is, should the circumstance arise."

Once again darkness roiled in her eyes as she made a gesture toward the doors.

She trailed, something darker flashing in her eyes, "... opportunities may arise. I shall miss you in my absence, however."

Nodding one final time, a warmth now crossing her features, Shayla then turned and departed the Throne Room altogether, gracefully walking the halls til she at length returned to Dark Lady's chambers. She was met there by an expected entourage of Sith guards...

...who, after only minimal hesitation, recognized her as one departing from the chambers with the Dark Lady as well her robes of state. As they parted to let Shayla pass, she stepped through the doorway, looking down at the beautiful robes she'd been given. She ran both hands down the sides to smooth them out, admiring it just a moment longer.

Then, knowing the time for such novelties was fleeting, Shayla went to the wardrobe, emerging with a black, form-fitting outfit with long sleeves. Changing from the robes and returning them to the wardrobe carefully, Shayla then slipped back into her nerf-skin black boots. Shayla then returned to the wardrobe, carefully sifting through its contents til at length she found hooded, dark black cloak. Wrapping it about her shoulders and not choosing to wear the hood, she departed the chambers, walked through a maze of corridors, and departed the temple altogether. Stretching out to sense Rykounagin's essence, Shayla easily found it after taking careful note of it in the throne room. As she carefully approached, she could hear Rykounagin asking various Sith if they had seen the "Dark Lady."

Shayla actually rolled her eyes, and closed them. Oh, bother. Is that the best he could do...?

She stepped forward. "Is this all you all you intend to do to look for...your wife?"

Idly wondering just how deeply and sincerely Rykounagin wanted to find Rhylla, Shayla said nothing further but stood firm and silent...

...all the while communicating Rykounagin's actions towards finding ShaRhylla...

...as meager as they were...

...back through the link she shared with Graysith.

"Indeed," she sent back along the link she maintained with Shayla, the drollness of her mental voice unmistakable.

"Perhaps I have misjudged the lad after all. He certainly doesn't appear as formidable an opponent as I would expect a Sith assassin to be... but then, my dear Sister, do not take him at face value. He may be acting thus to hide his true abilities from us and from the Sith he encounters.

...to only pop up once more before him. "Your need to shoo me away like a kranfly is amusing," she said simply, evenly. "You know full well that Graysith has the methods and the means to find her daughter before you do, and she offered you such assistance that you denied. So, all considered, I wonder what it is that you truly intend to do now?"

"There are always other ways..." He held the dirt to his lips, barely brushing the small grainules, whispering into the. My ShaRhylla, I shall come for you. Be wary of your mother and her hound, for they have returned.

"Amazing you recall that there are other ways after such a length of time," she observed. "And regarding motives..."

She trailed, looking him dead in the eye. "You believe his motives are better? You assume too much...

...or perhaps you simply know much more than you are willing to admit."

Shayla fell silent, still trailing Rykounagin, seemingly acting as a calm busybody, a mere nuisance...

...but knowing full well that he truly posed a threat to the particular Greater Good she had in mind...

...as did others. After all, it would take those with strong grounding and ability to help the Sith--and the entire galaxy as a whole for that matter--face the trials which lay ahead for them. "ShaRhylla will eventually see through you, you know...

...if she hasn't done so already."

Having stated that, Shayla communicated back to Graysith with a simple query. He intends to get to Rhylla back no matter what, I believe...

...and although I am certain he is no match for her, he may act as a deterent to our own goals. I will continue to keep after him...

The mark resembled one of my tattoos, specifically one based around left temple, beneath my hair, which no one had seen since I was two years of age. As soon as I was done, I felt a breath of magic pass through me, the incendiary ward set, powerful enough to vaporize most of the filth on the steps upon its triggering, let alone set anyone who triggered it alight.

"Good." I said, smirking, getting up and moving towards the tram which waited calmly for its next passengers.

He approached the steps to the tram that would take him to the starport, and upon observation, saw the woman who had been in the Dark Lady's company. Curious as to why she was at the starport, moving towards it with a pointed haste.

"Hail, Friend of the Dark Lady. Have you been sent to observe the foes as well?" He asked, pausing at the top of the steps to speak with her as they came level.

That the Dark Lady's daughter might not necessarily wish to come with him, and what she might do to prevent this crossed his mind, but only superficially. He flexed his throwing arm as he continued, cutting a quick glance to the powerful muscles of his biceps and triceps.

She will come with me, he asserted to himself, confident in is own machismo.

So he strode the streets of the city in complete confidence of his own abilities and the assured success of his endeavor, a success, he was certain, which would be met only in one way:

By flying overhead, in order to look down upon the city, and therefore spot the flaming hair of the Lady more easily. It didn't cross his mind that the lady could be inside hiding somewhere; the Lady ShaRhylla's temper and general attitudes were well known among the warrior ranks, and to his way of thinking she would not be one to hide.

She's out there, somewhere, he continued to muse as he approached the entrance to the transport system which led to the spaceport of Ch'arlingua. Poised at the head of the steps was the newly-appointed Captain Kelvendar, who appeared to be speaking with the young blonde human female who had been with the Dark Lady. He nodded politely to them, curious as to the new female but not wishing to stop.

Kelvendar is thinking the same as I am, he thought as he brushed around them, a courteous "excuse me" dropping from his lips as he passed.

I will not let him gain a lead on me of any kind!

Still smiling, he shifted his grip on his spear, hurried down the steps to a small platform about twenty-five steps below, from which the steps then turned to descend to the boarding platform at a ninety degree angle from those initially coming down from street level. He gained the platform, turned to his left, hurried down the steps for he could hear the approach of the transport...

The transport never made it completely to the station. There was a sudden, immense whoomp!! as a fireball of gargantuan proportions blossomed out from the approximate position of the hurrying Sith captain's left foot. It roiled down the final stairs, striking the platform, charring the front of the approaching transport and scorching the heavy Sith steel tracks upon which it ran. Confined by the stone walls which in turn were strengthened by solid earth behind them, the blast could only radiate upward and outward along the stairway, the majority of its power channeling downward into the system, cracking the walls, but a good portion of its strength punching upward and out into the street, hammering anything there with a brutally hot blast of energy and flame.

It enveloped Kelvendar and Shayla as easily as a mother hawk envelopes her chicks with its wings.

The streets of Phrinnchatka within a square block radius shivered, rose briefly upward, then settled back to their original position, Sith falling like timber, storefronts and windows cracking and snapping and crumbling. The city lights, oil that they were, tumbled to the ground, spilling their fluids which ignited, sending fires spreading into the increasing panic and chaos.

Within the blast zone, what was inflammable in Phrinnchatka burned, people screamed...

...while at the entrance to the transport system two figures moved feebly.

I chuckled quietly, but then found my gaze falling to the left side of my vision, many strands of hair falling past my face. I reached up, and felt my scalp, the entirety of the hair that had previously covered the tattoo coinciding with the ward gone.

"Well feth..." I murmured, rising slowly, a small pool of white strands at my feet. "A worthy sacrifice for the death of such an individual, not to mention for the ward that kept me from becomming the same." I brushed the ruins from my clothing, and began to walk towards the tram, finding that the front had been melted to slag.

"Seems I may have overpowered it..." I murmured. It seemed walking was the only available route. I hopped down into the tram tracks, and began to walk down them, knowing no one would arrive in time to discover the cause. No one would think of the white hairs left behind, save for one particular woman. The one I hoped this would strike the most.

A few flames still licked at the metal, and I couldn't help but chuckle. "The bastard lord who walks in flames..."

"SHAYLA!!"

The single word erupted from her lips as well as singeing her mind as a wave of searing pain and utter confusion blasted through her via the Link she maintained with her Adept. Her mouth gaping open in her own brand of confusion, Graysith blinked, shook her head, disconcerted to discover that whatever had hit had done so with enough force to fling her completely over the arm of her throne to then sprawl unceremoniously at its side. She quickly raised herself on one elbow, now finding the Link ominously dark, as if it had been snipped from existence. Frowning, she reached out to re-establish it... only to be met with that awful wave of pain and confusion once again.

"Shayla--!" The name slid from her lips in a growing aura of horror and fear, a wave which propelled her to her feet in an instant, her one hand going to rip a tear through the fabric of space and time. Still shuddering from the impact of whatever it was that had stricken her, she stepped through the Portal--

--and into utter chaos.

All around, flames licked the darkening city in every direction, casting it in an eerie and terrible glow, like that of hell-fire itself. Sith ran hither and yon, some carrying possessions, some attending to others; a wheeled water-wagon harnessed to a pair of barely controlled Kashyyyk katarn rumbled past, one Sith warrior holding the pair of snarling beasts to his will as the other sprayed water in the attempt to put out some of the spreading fires.

Another shudder racked the Dark Lady's frame; tears filled her eyes to see her beloved city thus consumed, it's people, young and old, male and female, all innocent, being confronted by this hell which had erupted from out of the blue. One hand raised instinctively, taking energy from the very air, air heated many degrees higher than normal, air now holding more water vapor within it. With a twist she took more of the energy, watching with stunned detachment as the air cooled, the vapor within it condensing to form rain which began to fall heavily, snuffing the fires.

Turning about, the rain falling on her face to mix with tears of anguish, she spied two forms, heavily burned. One she could only recognize as being Sith by his horns only, for as she watched he groaned, rolled onto his back, displayed the fact that he had been facing the brunt of whatever had set the fires.

She could not recognize his face.

But as for the other--

"Shayla--!"

One hand flew to her lips as she flew to the side of her fallen Adept and Chosen Sister. Shayla had been standing sideways to the force of the igniting disaster; one side of her bore terrible burns, her beautiful golden hair singed completly from her head in mute testimony of the fact. Graysith fell to her knees beside her, horrified at the extent of the injury, heartened yet horrified even more to see that the eyes Shayla turned to her were open, if not completely aware of what was happening.

The pain, oh the pain--!

Now she too could sense it: great searing waves of fire which raced up and down her own side, brought to her by the Link she maintained with Shayla. A simple thought could disconnect that link, immediately eliminating the pain from her own system, but that would mean leaving Shayla alone in her agony. This was something she simply would not do.

"I am here, my sister. Do not fear; all shall be put aright--"

Reaching out to gently stroke Shayla's unburned hair from the other side of her face, she smiled into her shell-shocked eyes. Then she gently placed her arms underneath Shayla's body, making certain to provide a protective padding of air between herself and the young woman that no further pain would be brought to her by the action. Grunting, she regained her feet, stood a moment staring about.

Kelvendar groaned nearby, his movements feeble and instinctive. His head lolled in her direction, colorful eyes staring at her in an almost accusing manner.

"You too shall be healed, my faithful subject," she said softly, then making another portal through the All. Grunting even more, for the talents she was using did not come freely or easily, she then created a denser mat of air beneath the fallen Sith, raising his body from the ground where it hovered beside her.

Accompanied by the moaning Kelvendar and carrying her awful burden, she stepped through the Portal to the only place she could think of where Shayla's life might be saved:

Directly into the sacred Inner Sanctum of the Dark Lord Aelvedaar, deeply hidden in the Temple of the Sorcerers in the city of Choyapenthe on the sister planet of Khar Delba.

((OOC: Follow Graysith, Shayla and Kelvendar into The Silence of the Lambs in the "Jedi/Sith" forums, thank you.))

Once again Graysith stepped out into chaos, although by now that chaos was descending into a little bit of orderliness. The fires had been put out, the injured Sith taken away for healing, while others busied themselves with general cleaning up of broken storefronts and windows and such.

She stood in the street by the entrance to the tram, stared down into it's blackened and cracked depths. Pursing her lips, she turned briefly away, ripping open another portal through which she could return the sleeping Shayla to her chambers. Once there, she laid the young Adept gently down on her immense and softly apportioned bed, covered her with silken sheets, leaned forward and kissed her on the forehead. A single gesture sent a merry flame dancing in her fireplace as she then straightened, going to a bell-pull which hung in one corner.

Moments later, a lady-in-waiting arrived, curtseying politely and inquiring what she wished. Since no great detail needed to be given, she ordered the servant watch over Shayla, that Temple Healers come stay in the outer rooms and check on her progress, making sure nothing more happened to her. Guards were ordered to stand without the door, and out upon the balcony as well.

When all was as she ordered, she went ot her wardrobe, drew out her cloak of rune-encrypted smoke and, drawing it about the robes of state she yet wore returned to the scene of the explosion, and after a moment descended the scorched and blackened stairs to the boarding platform. There she stood, her identity hidden in the folds of her cloak, standing silently and overlooked as Sith hurried here and there trying to remove the damaged transport.

She descended further, carefully picked her way to the very tracks of the transport system, stood there looking down into the darkness that stretched all the way to Ch'arlingua. It seemed that perhaps, just perhaps, the farther down the track she could see before it disappeared into gloom, the lesser the damage seemed to be...

Here was where the explosion occurred, she thought to herself as she turned about, now carefully scrutinizing the tracks and the front of the transport.

This vehicle took the most damage; the explosion was set...

Something caught her eye, truncating her thoughts. Frowning, she moved to see what it was.

Strands of long white hair, scorched a bit on the ends, lay like limp white eels upon the blackened tracks. She drew in a swift inhalation of breath, nudged the strands with one toe, another kind of fire now flaring within her being.

Rykounagin!

Reaching down, she took up the hair, tucked it away in a pouch hanging upon her waist. Then, yet unobserved by the bustling Sith, she opened a portal and returned to the Temple of the Sorcerers on Khar Delba.

I glanced about the starport, and picked the ship that was most fitting to my experience, one of the ships I had oft used before, a sith starfighter. I keyed the sigil at the base of the entrance hatch, and waited for it to decend, quickly embarking and sealing it.

I sat at the controls, and began to flick and tap at the sigils and runes that controlled the craft, which quickly rose at my command and shot from the star-port. I circled around to fly nearly twenty-kilometers over the surface, and observed the landscape, the trail still clear in my mind, the message having long reached its destination.

Drawing up a pointed scan of where the dust ended, a curious image came to the screen of which I purused. A temple? Well that is odd... but it seems to be where my love has secreted herself away.

I chuckled at a key word in that thought, that being "love". Such a word was only lies.

It seemed that lies and I were becomming fast friends. But then again, like luck, lies were fickle friends, and hated being asked for favors.

I smirked, and keyed the controls to arrive at the temple. All to soon my love... all to soon.

She paid little heed to the fact that the temple bore no light; what needed she of light? What was there to see? Nothing, nothing to see, only something to feel: that had become the entirety of her existence now, hatred and anger, rage and lust for vengeance, all the darker emotions the Jedi fought so assiduously to repel coming to her in a glorious rush of simple primal being.

She had become rage. It was her heart. Hatred her foundation, icy determination her mind. Her bi-colored eyes flared, sparking as if to penetrate the night within as it penetrated her, bringing images that had been carefully locked away within her, images of Entaris, the black tar-being, the Dark Tower, the Realms and what they promised.

He left me, too.

The fact only solidified the hardness she was becoming. A newly formed crystal of ice encompassed another inch of her being; she snorted, now running through her head images of everyone that she had ever known.

Her beloved and deathly Dark Heart -- used her.

Her mother -- undoubtedly planning the same.

Her father -- yet in the process of doing so.

Rykounagin--

Why?

For a moment the question halted her in her tracks, wonder worming through the icy shield she was bit by bit becoming.

Why? What was it about her that provoked such, that made her so easy a candidate for the use of others. Was she so needed a tool in the affairs of others?

No more.

Her eyes flashed in the darkness and she clenched her fists, driving her pearly nails into her palms, feeling them slice deeply to release steady rivulets of blood. That blood dripped from her fists, staining the clothing she wore, dropped to the floor of the Temple.

Somewhere there was a satisfied moan.

Her lip curled and she drew in a fortifying breath.

They shall use me no more, for I shall-- I shall--

Exactly what she would do was beyond her ken, her ability to formulate, for no strategist was she. She was a creature of the moment, of emotions, a true reactionary now held in the thrall of growing darkness.

One with a power she didn't know yet how to fully control... which made her far more dangerous than anyone could even begin to imagine.

But the Temple knew. It sensed. It chuckled darkly, reached out, touched her again and again and again. An image of a being, half-Sith, half-feline, fully feral and wild beyond imagination formed briefly in the deep shadows, gibbered and chortled and growled.

ShaRhylla wasn't aware of this either. Her only world now was darkness, darkness flooded with hatred and icy rage and determination and wanton lust for vengeance. More and more the reason for the latter was bending to the encroaching dark, being swallowed up by it, leaving only the simple need to lash out and kill.

Growling and snarling herself, she continued to stalk the dark halls of the Temple of S'slan, becoming more and more dangerous by the minute.

And even more dangerous, remaining utterly and completely sane.

The air was fresh and cold upon my scalp, and without hesitation, I moved towards the temple's entrance, the trail I had created shining in my minds eye to lead me inside.

I stepped through the doors into the chill of the temple, and suddenly everything as alight. My flesh caught flame, my hair melted over my flesh, turning it pale as my flesh pealed away to reveal nothing by my skeleton beneath my skin. I screamed as my eyes were torn from my body by an unseen force, my last vision the creature I had become as with an unending shriek I died and became nothing but rot.

A moment later I jerked up from the floor upon which I collapsed, and looked at my hands. For a moment, I saw nothing but the blackened skeletons of their remains, but then flesh came to view and I gasped, breathing hard, the dark spirits of the temple swirling around my, laughing silently at my pain as I slowly dragged myself up.

I breathed hard as I glanced about, the shadows shifting about, playing tricks upon my eyes as faces loomed and vanished. Just.... just the imagination.... nothing more... I took another shuddering breath, and began to walk deeper into the temple, following the trail.

The Spirit of the Temple that was S'slan drew away and back, into the shadows, and from there grew very still save for the wisps and tendrils of itself it let creep out, to beguile in the case of the one, and to instigate fury in the case of the other.

How delicious it would be. To push the fault of her mother in her face. Sending someone to kill me, to destroy me, to end me? Foolish... I would destroy them all... I already had ended the line of one... now for the next and the next.... they could help me do it or become the next victim in the line... how sweet... what would my little dead rose be? My sweet wife? My ex-wife? No... no no... she was mine. She would do as I told... as I saw fit... or she would step into line like the rest of them once I was done... once I was finished...

A small almost giggle came from within me.

How would I end her then? Kill her quickly? No... the last one had been quick. Just a flash and boom. Dead. This one would be slow. One of that special blood. Mother or daughter mother or daughter... the same blood, one young, fresh, dirtied. The other? Ugly, impure, sickening, disgusting.

I grinned in the shadows of the passage as I finally saw the younger of the blood ahead. The one I had come for. The beast yearned, but no... give her a chance... a sweet chance... did she deserve it? No of course not, but do not all predators love to play with their food before they devour it? Not all, but I? I would savor this.

...but the halfling was all but completely under the influence of the Temple of S'slan. The Blood-lust rose hot and panting within her, readying her for the Hunt as it had done for Others of the Blood eon after eon after untold eon, preparing her as it always had those fighting warriors, heightening their strength and innate fighting abilities, honing them to the sharpness of an executioner's blade.

She heard the rustle of whispered foot upon stone and whirled, crouching, her eyes gleaming feral in the gloom.

"Hello my little rose.... tell me.... are we going to sit and talk?" I stalked partially out of the shadows into a small sliver of light, the source unknown so deep in this temple. "Or are we going to fight for dominance again? I'm curious to know..." I dragged the edge of the blade up and curled it in the direction I saw a faint outline in.

"Either is just fine by me...." I licked my lips slightly. Either way it was win win. Either she gave herself up to me, or I beat her and she submitted, or as the most wonderful chance would be, I would merely kill her. Simplification; and that body could yield hours of entertainment afterwards. It would be curious to see what made such a creature tick on the inside.

For was this not what the War-God had promised? Were not these his blessings to those of the Blood, that to Hunt and bring him blood-sacrifice their own prowess would be increased ten, a hundred, a thousandfold?

It would be too ridiculously easy to banish Rykounagin to oblivion with but a thought. Perhaps something better was in order; he was close to utterly mad, that her own sanity assured her of. That whatever small mote of love he might have once held for her mattered no longer; now he was less than enemy, only prey.

Prey whose mind was close to snapping, oh so very close. What better way than that Way only She, she once the Queen of Death, could show.

For once had she done this. She was certain it was yet within her reach.

She tensed momentarily, then rose, softening, letting her body sway seductively in the dimness and the cloying heat and humidity of the stone.

It was almost juvenile to put such limits, but I hardly cared, my patience wearing thin for this present tension as thick or as thin as it were.

The word slid from her lips like the breath of the wind, long and low and somehow mournful, ephemeral. She quieted, her eyes wide in the dark and very sane, watching his own madness acutely, her head lolling languidly as she played about her lips with her hair.

"Affection?" she repeated, now dropping the hair and placing her hands lightly upon opposite shoulders in a self-imposed caress.

My madness was far from gone, a mile from banished. But I was cognant for the moment, some small part of my mind remembering that task I had been given by our father. Our father. The one we had to obey. The one whose mission we had to complete, to finish off and give him his dreams.

"I can be ever so affectionate.... if you would give me opportunity." The beast growled slightly, almost checking me against myself, a concealed and inward warning.

But, inexplicably, the words Rykounagin was speaking seemed uncannily able to slip beyond all that, to wriggle through her plans, to beguile their way into her very essence.

She was yet very much the little girl, and as such had experienced only dealings with simple black and white. Never the myriad shades of gray which existed in between.

This unexpected reply was indeed neither black nor white. Attack or madness, yes, those were the comforting hues she thought she had sought, something to appease the Blood, to appease It's blood, something she was oh so very skillful in doing after all...

But this sudden, soft grayness.

She let her hands drop limp by her sides. Let her guard completely down. Let the aching little hole so deep within her being begin, trembling, to grow and grow, seeking to be filled.

"Rykounagin?" was all she could repeat before retreating into silence, far from being submissive, but farther yet from her usual superior stance.

She blinked, gulped, let her eyes fall to the stones at her feet before drawing them slowly up to meet his own strangely intense pair.

"If- if you will in turn f-forgive me," she said, the words, so unaccustomed to her lips, falling out now with surprising ease, followed by ones even more surprising.

"How could I refuse that?" I asked quietly, closing my eyes, the madness that the temple has spurred into my heart moving away from the forefront of my thoughts, and shifting away to a reserve in the back of my mind. "How could I?" I asked again softly, a hand rising to stroke her scarlet hair back gently.

She sat bolt upright in the bed where Graysith had laid her, screaming, not seeing the healers that came to her side for the vision of fires dancing in her mind's eye, ignoring the room spinning in her line of vision.

It wasn't a dream.

Shayla fell back upon the sheets with this thought, her body still aching and needing rest. Unconsciously then, Shayla reached a hand up to touch her face for wounds. Instead it came in contact with baby-soft skin.

Was it a dream?

Shayla frowned to herself, her mind too cloudy to think clearly.

No. It hadn't been. The feeling had been too real. And she had gone after Rykounagin when...

The fires now blazed not only in her mind's eye, but also in her heart. She let her hand, still resting on her cheek, slide up to her hair...

...only to feel soft, down-like, short hair. And slowly she became aware of the hair on the other side of her face, the hair which was falling into her face freely. She tensed.

Fires raged.

"I failed," she moaned then softly to herself, her lids falling closed in inner pain and outer exhaustion. "I should have known..."

ShaRhylla sighed as with each step the Blood Lust seemed to step further and further away from her conscious thought, until by the time they had completely exited the temple it seemed as if it had been nothing but a momentary dream. She raised her face to Rykounagin's to make mention of this, but stopped.

A corner of her lip curled in mild amusement.

"This is a new look for you, my Lord," she commented lightly, her eyes flashing with dark and somehow approving humor.

I let go of her, and gave a small florish. "Of her servant, her adept, I believe is her title." I smiled. "Soon a similar fate will meet those who ally themselves with her." My smile took on an almost feral nature. "And soon? She herself with be naught but ashes."

"One down," she muttered darkly, her fang-tips peeping from beneath her lips, pearly white and glistening. Then, although it would be a nearly effortless thing for her to hold at bay the suffocating cold and snow they had stepped out into, she snuggled into Rykounagin for warmth.

For after all, wasn't he to be her Lord, at the behest of her father as well as her own indecisive heart? A heart which was leaning more and more into the tiny mote of warmth he was igniting within, one suddenly more willing not only to join his, but let him into itself.

This brought another thought to her head, and as they approached the ship Rykounagin had taken she voiced it aloud.

"What is it Father wishes of us; do you know?" she asked, turning her eerie bi-colored eyes up to capture his own as she continued to allow him to lead her toward the awaiting vessel.

"We will have to be cautious of course, for we are dealing with foolish, but powerful opponents. Your mother of course is the one that truely stands in our way... we need to find... some way to circumvent that... but I'm afraid returning to the city just now would not incite the best of reactions from her, to say the least."

"How long do you wish to remain away from the temple, if not Phrinnchatka as well?" she finally asked, wiggling a little so as turn a bit to the side and thus more easily look up into Rykounagin's face. The posture was not the most comfortable one; grunting a tiny bit, she resumed her prior stance, leaning back into the warmth of his chest and the sound of his heart beating within it.

"Is there a purpose in staying away? Do we need to remain on K'eel Doba altogether?

"We can always go hide on Khar Delba; it's quite wild, if a bit on the cold side."

She wrinkled her nose with distaste at the thought.

"If we remained here on K'eel Doba, we could go out into the farmlands, and remain hidden away with some family--"

Her nose wrinkled even more as she automatically dismissed the idea in its entirety.

"There is Kamino--"

I did not brush her off of me to go to the controls, but remained with her laying against my chest, waiting to hear her opinion on the idea. I was sure it would be fine, as it had been seven years ago when I had last left it.

It seemed right that if I was to have a child with this woman who rested against me, that it would follow in the way that I had been born there, as had hundreds of those before.

"I follow where you lead, for I have no desire to return to Phrinnchatka at this moment," she replied smoothly, snuggling back a little before flowing lithely from his lap to take another seat. After all, he did need freedom to pilot the ship now, didn't he?

As Rykounagin set about the preliminary departure routines, she couldn't help but frown to herself, thinking about Phrinnchatka and the life of royalty to which she had grown accustomed. She truly hoped that whatever plan Rykounagin and her father had up their collective sleeves would not take long to take root, and that she could return to her place of nobility after not too lengthy a hiatus.
With my new Lord at my side, she thought, casting a furtive glance Rykounagin's way, her smile growing even more promising.

I rose, knowing the ship would not need guidance, always having effectively avoided the blockade, and having found its own way to its charted destination.

She blinked again, not in conscious recognition of the fact but somehow sensing that an odd, sideways shift in her very nature was gradually coming into being. Not that her former lordliness was anything but aloof... but a gentler side was bit by bit becoming to feel more...

Natural.

The smoke of S'slan roiled and coiled about her heart, but allowed this strange lightness to intrude. She looked up at Rykounagin, smiled wanly.

"Yes, I believe I will," she said, then got to her feet and headed back toward the little sofa he had indicated.

There was no reason for her to see the blockade and worry. I smiled and rose from my seat to sit next to her on the small sofa, and stroked her hair back softly with my hand. "You alright?" I asked softly, looking down at her beautiful face.

She silently worked her jaw a moment or two before words managed to come forth.

"I-- I do not know. I am not certain. It is as if I am not quite myself, somehow..."

...but not a peep of this deeply seated conflict presented itself to Rykounagin. Indeed, so wrapped up in the wrath of S'slan was her Sith half that it now allowed her human half complete freedom to be... a state of existence it cried out for joy to experience, but one which ShaRhylla simply could not begin to understand.

"I don't know," she repeated, her voice an uncharacteristically soft murmur, her body softening even more as she relaxed into the warmth of Rykounagin's chest. For a timeless moment something other than hate and lust and greed and anger held them both; then she twisted her face up to look into his eyes.

"It shall be home then, for however long we feel it necessary to remain there," she said, a bit more of a definite note creeping into the words she spoke. One hand reached up to toy with a tendril of her hair, lightly brushing against Rykounagin's fingers as she did so. The light contact caused her to glance quickly to where she had made contact: there was his hand, so close to her face...

And there the wrist with the once golden tattoo, now reverted completely to the one originally given to him by Roan. She blinked, suddenly discomfited.

"I--" she began, her voice a bit breathy, for the words she was about to speak were normally quite alien to her very nature. Her Sith nature, that is...

"I am sorry, Rykounagin," she finally ended, averting her eyes from his wrist in what now amounted to embarrassment. Another moment ticked past; then--

"How long do you think we will remain upon this ast- aster- asteroid?" she finally asked, her tongue tripping over the unusual syllables for in truth she hadn't heard of the term, much less actually visited one, in her entire short life.

"Are there forests there we might walk in, and lakes in which we might swim?"

I held close to her and continued to speak. "But it will hold a finer treasure than glass lakes and beautiful trees. For you are as beautiful as anything there could ever be... as perfect as one co uld ever hope..."

Surprised, and not at all unhappy, she bit her lip to hold back her breath. Then she let it out in a soft, prolonged sigh.

"You're right, Rykounagin. I would rest... but not alone.

Remember-r-rr... it purred seductively, insidiously.

This one would use you... he dismisses your intelligence as you would dismiss a lowling from your sight...

Her human half, however, having been given freedom to react, would not let itself be browbeaten back into the shadows that had repressed it for so long.

And you chastened him for that, did you not ShaRhylla? she asked herself, recalling her divorcing herself from her short-lived spouse. Fidgeting a little uncomfortably at this, she cast a heavy-lidded glance once more at Rykounagin's wrist.

Remain thou still!

Where the odd wording had sprung from, she had no idea. She only knew, or in all honesty felt, that more and more she was becoming balanced inside, and that for once logic was able to rear up and have it's way.

She closed her eyes so as not to look upon the black Tattoo of Roan any longer.

"Thank you," she murmured, and shifted again, snuggling like a youngling in its nest as she drifted off into slumber, focused drowsily upon the growing wonder of how much Rykounagin was beginning to mean to her.

What is it about her? Love? Or command and necessity from father? I sighed quietly again and looked down at her.

True she was beautiful, but in turn she had always been unpredictable and wild. How long would it be before she had another episode? Would the task my father had sent me on even prove possible for me in the end?

As the shadows began to deepen about Phrinnchatka, Graysith stepped forth from the Portal she had created, returning to her private chambers as quickly and as silently as she had departed. Casting a quick glance about herself to make certain nothing untoward had happened here during her absence, she then left them to head to the Healing Chamber where she had left her Sister and Adept.

Upon reaching this chamber she moved quietly therein so as not to disturb Shayla, who yet needed time for further rest and recuperation. But her timing couldn't have been more impeccable: she arrived in the doorway just as Shayla moaned her self-derogatory utterance.

Graysith, going unnoticed in the doorway to the Healing Chamber, frowned.

What happened to my Adept was of no fault of her own, she couldn't help but think as she cocked her head a little to one side, studying the now-sleeping Shayla in quite another light. For a long moment she stood thus, debating whether or not the issue was important enough to awaken her; shaking her head at length she backed away, entering into the corridor without once more.

This shall wait... what is needed now is a quiet moment with my wayward daughter...

Her eyes darkened with the thought, and she was about to set out to the Reception Hall to summon a temple servant to in turn summon ShaRhylla when she stopped.

None need know of what I wish to do, especially when the outcome may be more than...

Expected.

Nodding to herself, she opened a quick intra-temple Portal back to her chambers, where she quickly dug out and donned her cloak of rune-encrypted smoke. Another quick portal led her to a side street of the city; quickly reversing the cloak and pulling its hood over her head that none would recognize her, she made her way to the Great Library of the Sith. Upon reaching it, she stood a moment at the stairs leading to the entrance, casting quick and furtive glances about herself.

Good. There is no one about...

One final gesture, and a Portal opened in the night, allowing her entrance to the Library, and more importantly, to the Revealer it held within. She approached the magickal device on shadowed feet, and came to an equally silent halt before it.

"Show me the whereabouts of my daughter, ShaRhylla," she commanded of it, then fell into a patient silence as the floating orbs began their stately dance, moving in intricate designs through and about each other until the image she desired came into view.

"How long do you think we will remain upon this ast- aster- asteroid?" she was asking, leaning against the chest of none other than the white-haired Rykounagin. The lack of half his hair gave damning testimony to the fact that he indeed was the one to leave strands of white hair in the close vicinity of the blast which had nearly claimed Shayla.

Graysith's hands tightened into fists at her sides; her eyes darkened to the deepest of midnight purple and she growled, unable to refrain the slight noise from rumbling in her chest. Then--

"Coordinates of this image," she commanded, her eyes widening in something of surprise when the suddenly scrolling values informed her that the pair were no longer on K'eel Doba but somewhere in the surrounding space.

"Trajectory..."

Further values scrolled in mid-air, then faded from view as the Revealer went dark, patiently awaiting its Next Question.

None were forthcoming, at least not at the moment. Her eyes nearly black now, she stood in raging silence, debating.

A perfect time to destroy the silly boy, but not at the cost of my daughter, who I need so badly, she thought darkly, aching to reach out and dissolve every molecular bond within the atoms of the vessel they were traveling in.

If I snatch her from his grasp, I will only have succeeded in angering her, possibly turning her against me; not to mention the fact that he will then be alerted enough to possibly throw up some magicks to thwart whatever I might try to do to destroy him...

Her lips pinched together in a tight line of annoyance then, as with a wave of one hand she opened a final Portal and returned to her private chambers. There she spent a bit of time pacing restlessly back and forth in thought, before an idea struck her at last.

Hastening out, she now hurried down this corridor and that, down several sets of successively danker stone steps, until at last she came to a tiny chamber hidden deeply within the bowels of the Temple. Here lay the private sanctum of the Dark Lord, well-hidden and equally well-protected from anyone who might try to find it. Going to a richly ornate and ancient door, she opened it and moved within. Once inside, she headed to a small door off to the side, and opened it.

There were two entities, neither one of flesh and blood. The 'bot who was companion, long ago, to the then Shayla Stargazer Petrolu, and...

"Jinn, please contact the dreadnought in orbit about our system's space, and inform them that we have a ship fleeing from K'eel Doba. It is carrying personnel dangerous not only to us, but to the Galaxy in general; it would behoove General Tarnus to tractor them in before they are too far removed from this possibility."

"What--?!" exclaimed the computer in a huff, heartily annoyed at being left alone to rot for so long only to then be swept down upon without so much as a "Pretty please."

"Who do you-- what do you think-- Darth Wicked would never treat me in this kind of ill manner!" it snorted, climbing upon its mechanical high horse.

Graysith merely eyed it with disgust.

"Command override Alpha Sith--" she began, but was in turn interrupted by the flighty mechanical.

"Oh you don't have to go off into a long string of nonsense, I understand!" Jinn said, snorting once more. Then it fell into a brief silence before quietly announcing--

"Message is sent."

"Thank you, Jinn. I shall see that you are put to a better use than you have been of late. You must forgive my apparent lack in this regard, for I have been... absent from Phrinnchatka.

"All shall be rectified, however."

Bowing her head to the computer in a semblance of courtesy she turned and left, and hastened back to her own private suites. Once there, she waved a hand, opened a Portal, and with a bit of concentration and much effort managed to move both mechanicals into her suites.

The Portal closed with a snkk.

"Dreadnought in Khar Delban space, please advise your General Tarnus that a ship bearing dangerous criminals is fleeing K'eel Doba; it is likewise advised you tractor them in so we might recover them, thank you.

"Have a nice day..."

The missive fell into a silence as deep and utterly surprised as was every inch of the communications officer who had received it.

Who in all the known hells knows we're up here? he couldn't help but wonder as he passed the communication quickly and efficiently on to his Commander, who then, equally surprised and much more harried, hastened to deliver it personally to General Tarnus.

I half rose from the chair, anger planted across my non-helmeted features, but relaxed when I saw it was Landarian.

"Yes--?" I asked, sinking back and waving a hand toward a bottle of Walkn'Fall.

"What brings you--"

"We've received a transmission... from K'eel Doba," he said, holding a flimsy out toward me, his stance and expression clearly indicative of the implications this short statement carried with it.

Who in Hell's Seven Circles down there even knew we were up here, unless--

I took the flimsy from him, met his gaze with a dark one of my own, then quickly scanned it.

"At first we didn't even notice the ship, but after this alert we went to high definition; yes, there is a ship leaving the planet, Sir."

And so it begins, I couldn't help but think as I then gave the order to tractor in the fleeing ship reinforcing an already standing operating procedure aboard Relentless...

It didn't take long until a somewhat frantic call came to my quarters from the bridge.

"Sir, we-- ahh, we can't tractor the ship. It's too... weird; at first contact it just blew out our primary tractor beam; we strengthened and followed up with secondary, but it just keeps, ahh--

"Slipping off."

The speaker fell into an awkward and somewhat embarrassed silence, a silence heavily laced with equal doses of surprise and not without a touch of consternation.

I thought a moment, well recalling the wonderful properties of the Sith fighter Jester in which I had shared so many adventures with Galen, back in the day before--

"Trajectory?" I asked then; it wasn't long before I was informed that the apparent trajectory was toward this system's small but nevertheless impressive asteroid field.

I closed my eyes in disgust.

"Keep an eye on it, try to send a probe to tail it, and get a squad of interceptors, no two squads, fully armed, ready to follow suit.

"Tarnus out."

Sighing a bit as the connection closed, I then rose to my feet and poured myself a hefty drink.

"Care to join me, Captain?" I asked, turning to greet his look of growing apprehension. He merely nodded mutely, took the drink in hand, and joined me in what turned to be a series of speculative conjectures that would stretch out until morning.

It appeared that the ship, as programed, had made a hyperspace jump towards their coordinates as planned. "Well, we're on our way." I looked back towards her, and gave a faint smile. "Soon enough... we'll be there." I went and stepped over her form on the couch, laying next to her and wrapping an arm around her side, pulling her against my chest as we gently fell into a slumber.

"Alpha-Quarto, out.

A quick snap of an order, and the six fighters tailing the magnificent little Sith ship paused but a moment to re-orient themselves, before disappearing into the gleaming starstreaks of hyperdriven space...

((OOC: Follow Stealth and her squadron into The Salvation of the Damned in the "CSWU" forums, thank you.))

A flicker of something oily danced in her eyes as she stared down upon the sleeping young woman. Her hands clenched into fists at her sides.

He shall pay, and dearly, not only for what he has done to Shayla but for his intolerable seduction of my daughter! she snarled to herself, trembling with the effort to remain completely still, physically. Shayla needed her rest; she didn't want to risk the slightest noise which could possibly awaken her.

That in turn brought her attention back to Shayla. Her Glyph cast a soft purple glow upon Shayla's sprouting, curling hair; cast a pearly illusion to the paleness of her features. Graysith's frown deepened though, in recollection of Shayla's self-recriminations.

She needs to be stronger than that, she growled blackly to herself.

Dark she claims to be, and dark she will be; there is no room in the heart for anything other than that, not if what I seek is to bear fruit...

Finally she let herself loosen a touch, let her stiff shoulders slump the tiniest bit, sighed a mere zephyr of air. Reached out via the Link she maintained with Shayla, and whispered directly into her subconscious.

It was of no fault of your own, the boy shall pay, and you shall assist me in collecting the debt he owes...

Indeed, he shall, and dearly.

Even in the depths of slumber, pure, heated anger began to build. He who dared to claim Lordship of the Sith, if only for a time, had shown great cowardice in attacking one who had shown no agression towards him.

He will pay...

Slowly, Shayla's eyes fluttered.

"My sister..." she spoke through dry lips, "When...

A pause for a deep breath and a swallow. "...shall we begin...?"

She caressed Shayla's face with a slender finger, toying for a bit with the newly grown curls now ringing half her head. Her gaze darkened further.

"We shall begin when you are strong enough to face that which we must, as well as that which you must choose to do," she purred in a whisper so cold nothing but Death itself could speak it more clearly.

"You do understand that you have a choice yet before you, don't you my Sister?"

The powerful shall reign, and in that power shall take foolishness from no one.

Shayla took a deep breath then, her eyes never leaving Graysith's.

"I sense the time for recovery...

...is now. Strength comes to those who...

...seek and claim it...not to those who wait."

Even as she made her last statement, Shayla began to rise from her bed, albeit it slowly, determination...

...and something completely other...

"Goo-oo-ood," she breathed, allowing the word to hiss out in one low, drawn-out sigh as she watched Shayla rise of her own accord from her sickbed. Nodding, she took a step back, not doing one thing to assist the young lady but instead standing quietly, watching her intently. When Shayla finally came to a shaky but upright position she nodded once more, turning away to walk a few steps off across the room.

"It is good to see you are growing stronger, my Sister," she said, her back still to Shayla.

"While Lord Aelvedaar has taken steps to block your learning of the intricacies of the All, you still do have that Force within you which sent you to the Praxeum those many years ago. This strength you are finding within yourself can only amplify those abilities already inherent to you."

Coming to a stop, she whirled in place, fixed Shayla with eyes that glittered like a serpent's. For a long moment no sound at all passed between them; then Graysith nodded one last time and raised her head, letting her shoulders and her entire demeanor loosen a bit.

"There is much that we must do, Shayla," she began, now moving about the room once more and lifting slender fingers to tick off her list of priorities.

"We must unravel the growing bonds which might exist between my silly daughter and that heinous Rykounagin; we must deal with those who would stand in my path, these being those on Khar Delba as well as those now on the swamp world; you must be taught to use your Force abilities in a manner in which you never have done so before, so as to be strong enough to assist me in dealing with the others; we must unite all the Sith with the idea of being ruled by a new, more logical and totally feminine Triad.

"And finally, we must eliminate the continued threat of Ankrist Roan."

Coming to a halt, she cocked her head, peering intently into Shayla's face once again. The young woman hadn't moved or whispered so much as one peep during this little soliloquy; Graysith nodded her approval again, then smiled.

"As my Sister and Adept, and soon to be Second, I shall leave the first course of action to you. What shall we do first, my dear?"

"Rykounagin. It is the desire of the Lords Aelvedaar and Phalomir that you come to Khar Delba. Your assistance is necessary.

Just as the ship came out of hyperspace, my eyes opened. I had rested quietly in the seat at the controls, which seemed to soften in the fashion I had hoped for. I sat up, and began to direct my course towards the planet I had almost begun to call "home" when I felt a familiar voice penetrate my mind.

I paused, hands still over the controls of which would send me to my intended destination. I had never met the real sith my father had masquaraded as, though the voice was the same. I considered, hands still holding their respective places.

"Why would they want me now?" I wondered. What did they owe me, or what did I owe them for such a calling, at such a convenient time. Could this perhaps be a trap? As I recalled, Phalomir had ever dogged at Graysith's heels, her dutiful consort. What had irked a change?

...and so that the ties she has with that insolent Rykounagin can be severed."

She paused, the look in her eyes growing deepr yet. And so the honor of having hair, flesh and bone burned from the body can be bestowed upon him.

Shayla was quite aware that Graysith would know these thoughts. As was she quite aware of other things as well.

"As for that which I must learn...

...I am ready to begin, now. My Force abilities are strong, but have been lacking in training for quite some time...

Phalomir emerged in a cockpit, inconvenient to his height. He saw Rykounagin at the controls, his back to Phalomir. Phalomir cleared his throat.

“Thank you for dropping from hyperspace,” he began, readying to react to any threatening moves. “Forgive the intrusion, but our system is under a blockade and this was the most direct way to interface. We mean you no harm, and in fact seek your insight. Will you hear me?”

At the first sign of danger, Phalomir had his defenses ready and his foot next to the portal.

I said simply, watching him with suspicion. Last I had encountered him, he had still been very much a supporter of the witch, though I knew not her position towards him.

I put my hand over a glyph. "If you try that, I'm going to get upset. Now, why don't you bring your taxi-portalling friend through to join the conversation, before I force you to leave. You see, while I am comfortably strapped into this chair, you are standing. Rather independant might I add, of any such restrains. This here is a glyph that will conveniently open the hatch to this cabin, which will, unless you departed rather hastily, suck you into the void."

I drummed my fingers only a centimeter away from the glyph. "Now, why don't we all have an amiable chat with all the players sitting at the sabacc table, as opposed to the dark lady's lapdog talking for her or whomever his new friend's are, hmmm?"

I continued to smile, a cold anger within me that he thought I would be so easily manipulated. For once, in doing what I wanted to do now, I had nothing to gain, only something to give the one I loved. That made it all the worth while.

I was more interested in watching as Phalomir was tugged back towards the hatch itself. I began to yell over the howling.

"Tell me something Phalomir! What has happened to make you dare come to me? What could you and your all knowing friends need to find out from me?"

I opened the hatch another inch, the pull of the void growing stronger. I smirked as I saw Phalomir's grip upon the bulkhead slip slightly.

"What makes you think I actually give a damn about you or the rest of the sith anymore? What makes you think I care if I live or die for this? Tell me!"

I held my hand on the glyph. With one twirl, I could open the hatch entirely, possibly sucking him out into the cold void unless he could concentrate enough to save himself; or I could turn it the other way and shut it just as easily.

Though it would be extremely hard to tell with the sound and the obvious difficulty he would be having in responding, I did not admit that the lack of oxygen was beginning to press upon myself.

...I can only reach out to Lord Phalomir, contacting him in the only manner available to me.

"It is useless, my fellow Lord. Can you not see? He responds with threats, with hatred, with the passion of an animal trapped and seeing no escape. You made no move toward him which threatened, yet he responds in the manner in which he does.

"I am not fearful of you being sucked into the void, although should that happen I am here to bring you back home. Remember your early schooling, my friend: as more air departs the ship, less is available to carry you out. Your hold is yet strong; now the threat is one of simple oxygen deprivation.

"You must remember to not over-reach yourself, my dear," she admonished gently as she raised her head and looked Shayla straight in the eye. "For the harder you reach to control that of which you are learning, the more elusive it will become to you."

She paused a moment, chewing her lip a little before continuing.

"It took me many months to begin understanding the beauty of the All, and longer yet to start really using it. Even now I am not utilizing its full potential; I wish--"

She snipped the words off as a mantis snips off the head of her mate, turning momentarily away from Shayla to study the patterning of a nearby wall. For a long moment silence hung over the pair, a heavy pall, one so strong as to even seem to begin banking the fire which crackled in the great stone fireplace of the room.

Finally Graysith straightened her shoulders, and turned smoothly about to face Shayla once again.

“What makes you think--” began Phalomir, his voice cold in the thinning air. Soon there would not be enough air for the sound waves to pass through, but the words were still audible for the moment. “—I care if you live or die?!”

Phalomir’s magicks, the deep innate powers that were his birthright, sealed the remaining air about him. Within the confines of the Sith fighter, he held on tightly to the bulkhead, aided further by the magnetic strength of the magick that now coursed through his blood.

The memories of a thousand generations of Dark Lords now rushed through his mind. Once, seemingly now ages ago, Phalomir had walked the line of the Armorers, taking upon himself the burden and privilege of leading the oldest of the Clans. He had made a promise that day, and in exchange was given the knowledge of the Clan. All the power, all the tradition, it meant more now than ever with the survival of the Sith as a whole threatened from both inside and out.

“I offer you the chance to speak as a man, to hear and be heard. And you attack!? Well hear this, assassin!”

Phalomir’s hand darted outward as his other arm propelled his huge body forward, closing the space in the small cabin within a heartbeat. His hand wrapped around Rykounagin’s throat as Phalomir stared him in the eyes.

“Your lust for power has progressed far enough! You will live within your station, assassin, and remember the penalty for attacking a Sith – a DARK LORD.”

Phalomir watched as Rykounagin convulsed, a neuron pulse triggering within him. As a Cult Assassin, he was genetically forbidden to attack a Sith of the ruling class without direct orders from another true Sith, and a safeguard had now kicked in, effectively paralyzing him. Phalomir released his grip on the bulkhead and pounded his hand on top of Rykounagin’s, twisting it in the opposite direction. The hatch slid shut and the pressure began to return.

Phalomir released his hold on Rykounagin and stepped back, hunching to avoid hitting his head. The boy remained immobile, except for small twitches.

“There is more to think about than your own petty quest for power,” he said. “I came to you to speak of the future, and you spit on the very race that created you. I feel the pain you have endured, as I also feel the hatred it has spawned. But as you see, you are a Cult Assassin, and you are bound by the ancient ways.”

Phalomir leaned forward, pressing his horns close to Rykounagin’s forehead. He raised his hands to his mouth to shield them so only the boy could hear – or see. “No longer will you kill on orders issued by a dead master. Now you will kill on mine.” He touched his horn to Rykounagin, sending into him a magick bond that all Dark Lords along the ancient lines would impart unto their servants.

Phalomir reached to the nav pad and punched in a quick sequence. He then turned to another pad, a small set of strange symbols, and typed in another sequence to lock the controls. He then leaned back.

“And when I come for you, you will see the true benefit of serving a Dark Lord. There is no offer of adoption, no false offer of love and friendship, only the bonds of an unbreakable ancient accord.”

Phalomir pressed the engage button, sending the small fighter towards an outer moon. The ship would land roughly, and even though Rykounagin would soon be unconscious for more than a day, he would survive well enough.

Phalomir waved his hand before him and looked up, signaling Aelvedaar.

Still watching the image in the Octahedron, I re-open the Portal, experiencing the eerie sense of being in two places at the same time as I see it form in the cabin of the fighter in complete synchrony to it's awakening behind me. Moments later, the sound of rustling robes announces the presence of my fellow Dark Lord; I make a motion with one hand and the Octahedron obliges by panning out to a wider view.

I stand in silence as I observe the trajectory of the fighter, watch as it aims directly at an outermost moonlet, draw in a deep breath as it tries nothing whatsoever to avoid the obstruction but comes to a rocky landing on its surface instead. Zooming in once more, I sigh with relief to see the hull is secure.

Her thoughts quickly transferred to days when she worried about her own looks for the sake of others, and a slow smile came across her features.

"Why, of course my dear," she said smoothly, smiling gently as she took Shayla by the hand.

"Come let us retire for the moment to my chambers--"

She stopped at that, thinking. Then she went on, letting a brief and almost school-girlish laugh escape from her lips as she spoke.

The tiny outburst came nowhere close to touching her eyes.

"Let me show you to your own suites, which are yours to use as you like from now on. For one occupying the role of my new Second needs chambers befitting to her."

With that she led Shayla out of the Healing Chamber and through myriad twists and turns within the bowels of the Great Temple of the Warriors until at last she came upon the corridor leading to her own suites. Down this corridor she went, leading Shayla to the third door from her own, one glistening with rich oils and inlaid woods and great age.

A simple push of her hand opened the door, revealing the opulence within.

"Here are the suites of an Heiress to the throne; I believe you will find all you need within. My own suites are but three doors away; you may come to me when you are ready."

With that she leaned forward, gave Shayla a little peck on the cheek, and retired to her own place to wait.

And to think.

And a desire to somehow seek revenge for her near-death experience.

So, she quickly went to the large wardrobe of the suites Graysith had given her, stripped off her burned clothes, and dressed herself in a black practice tunic and pants. Then she pulled from the wardrobe a soft hooded black cloak, putting it on as well.

Heading to the Sith equivalent of a 'fresher, Shayla surveyed the damage to her hair...

...and, using a grooming utensil in the area, evened out her hair, trimming it entirely. Her now short dark blonde locks curled about her head, now groomed so that they would grow out evenly in time.

Satisfied with this, and not wanting to waste a moment more of her time and still somewhat weakened strength and energy, Shayla departed the chambers, headed to the suites Graysith had indicated were hers, and knocked out of respect for the privacy of one she held near and dear as a Sister, Friend...

A slow smile curled her lips.

The hand dropped the tiniest bit... to the lock below the opener; with a darting movement she locked the door, knowing fully that Shayla would be able to clearly hear the bolt sliding home.

Then she leaned forward and placed her lips against the rich wood of the door.

Sometimes how you get in and out of situations relies on the most simplest of solutions...

Stretching out with the Force abilities inherent to her, Shayla could easily reach for the lock on the other side of the door, and could just as easily use her telekenetic abilities to slide the bolt out of the way.

And she did just that, reaching for the knob of the door then and opening it smoothly, revealing Graysith waiting intently on the other side.

"To the Great Library, where I hope all our questions can be answered. But wait--"

Moving quickly to an enormous armoire, she reached inside and drew forth her own practice doba. Quickly shedding the robes of state that she yet wore, she donned the former, topping it off with her signature cloak of rune-encrypted smoke.

She turned back to Shayla with another smile.

"Now let us be off," she said, opening the door with but a wave of her hand and leading Shayla out, through the corridor, winding through the temple until at last coming to the final, broad thoroughfare leading past the Great Dining Hall, to the Grand Foyer and the courtyard beyond. There she headed toward the little stone archway, which would spit them out into the grand stone stairway, which in turn would lead them down into the streets of the city.

It did not take the two women long to reach those streets, where Graysith then slackened her pace a bit. One hand went out in a simple gesture, waving as if to show Shayla the wonders of this city, one that was not only ancient and mysterious, but deceptively high-tech. Feature after feature she pointed out as they strolled along, a pair of sisters laughing and enjoying their time together, pointing out great globes which rose up stairs of electrons to a sizzling apex, only to float as if of their own accord to the other side of the street where they would settle down upon the soft grasses of the adjacent lawns. A moment or two would ensue, and the globes would repeat their mysterious journey, gaining the other side of the street again, coming to a halt to rest and repeat. Over and over and over.

And that was but one mystery, one bearing the weight of the ages upon it's back.

"Oh, how beautiful," she marveled simply. Then she turned her widened eyes to Graysith. "I want to know all I can about the Sith, as much as possible," she breathed somewhat breathlessly. "What a beautiful city, and a beautiful people," she continued. Then she looked to the great globes, yet awe-struck. "How?" she queried quietly then, yet taking in all there was to see...

"A most beautiful city indeed, one deserving of every bit of protection that we can provide. And the people, my beloved adopted race--"

She paused a moment, chewing on her lip a little as she struggled to put into words the great swelling emotions now filling her. For indeed was she linked soul-to-soul with the Sith; having been essentially made into who she was by the Dark Lord Aelvedaar, having encountered and endured so much in her quest to bring the race back to their truncated life and then throughout the events which transpired afterward, having been through all she had, many lifetimes of being crammed down into the space of but a few years, she had quite forgotten how she used to live before, when she was Jharmeen Jhin'Dar. Daughter of a professor, sister to Galen.

Those days were but dreams, receding further and further from her with every passing moment.

"The Sith... my beloved Sith," she repeated.

"They deserve a new leadership, a new triumvirate, one not led by testosterone-driven males whose sole reason for existence is war and intrigue and mayhem. They need instead a silk-gloved hand to guide them with wisdom and strength."

She stopped a moment, for the tiniest bit actually stunned by the enormity of the words she had spoken. Then that last bit of rationality disappeared into the ravening maw of that which was hidden inside her; increasing her pace a touch she continued on toward the Great Library of the Sith.

"Books and tomes there are aplenty in this place, but that which can show you in the greatest of detail is the Revealer."

So saying she came up to the door, and with a gentle but firm touch upon it pushed it open. Together the two women entered into another world, one of age and mystique and mysteries past and silence.

Of the Librarian, there was no hint. But sitting in its customary place center-stage in the main chamber of the library was the aggregation of floating spheres known as the Revealer. The spheres were colorless yet somehow embued with the vivid hues of the rainbow; they remained completely motionless yet seemed somehow to dance with the very joy of life itself.

Graysith came to a halt before it, cocked her head, and cleared her throat.

"I wonder--" she began, and was interrupted by a deep basso voice that both flooded her ears and was flooded with excitement.

"A Question!' it boomed and echoed, its language Sith yet strangely understood by all.

"There has come, finally, a Question!"

Graysith smiled, turned to Shayla, and waving a hand toward the Revealer merely cocked a brow.

"Where is Graysith's daughter, ShaRhylla?" Shayla asked as she looked to the Revealer. Almost immediately the spheres which made up the device began to spin and move, playing about electrons as the space between them suddenly came to live, in vivid detail:

There stood ShaRhylla, surrounded by equipment and instruments in a small chamber, the look in her eyes dark and foreboding. Somewhere on one of the many instruments within the room, one directly before her was blinking a red sigil insistently. In tandem with the blinking, the tinest beeping noise could be heard.

Shayla pursed her lips thoughtfully. "Where is this place?" she queried, not necessarily to the Revealer. Still, the Revealer responded, once more immediately as the spheres once again moved and the image of ShaRhylla shifted. Shayla and Graysith suddenly found themselves standing within the image of an asteroid belt, one very large asteroid in the field directly in front of them.

Shayla's eyes once more widened. Where in the universe WAS this place? she wondered.

Then, aloud. "Coordinates will be very helpful..." Shayla then said aloud, falling silent at that as a gridwork indicating the asteroid field's location superimposed itself over the image they were viewing.

"Interesting," she finally murmured, reaching out and then tracing a line of declination with a delicate finger. "I am not familiar with this place, but then the universe is big and I have seen but a tiny portion of it."

She straightened, cocking her head to one side as she continued to stare thoughtfully at the living image.

"I found it interesting as well that my daughter was alone, and judging by her demeanor, appeared to be somewhat ruffled if not outright angered by something. She knows nothing of control panels and such; I wonder if something has happened to her consort to leave her alone and obviously bewildered where we found her to be?"

Turning to Shayla, she finished with, "What are your thoughts concerning my line of reasoning, my dear?

"And your recommendations?"

...or perhaps another. After all, he is Dark Lord Roan's puppet."

"For by having some idea as to why ShaRhylla is so angry will only aid us by giving us insight as to how best approach her. She does seem to be a touch... volatile at times, after all."

Letting a small smile momentarily lift her lips, the Dark Lady of the Warriors then straightened, and upon clearing her throat addressed the Revealer.

"Show us the whereabouts of the cult assassin, Rykounagin," she said before falling silent... and an amused silence it was indeed. For it did not take the Revealer long to put its mysteries into action, now bringing to life around the two women the three dimensional image of the unconscious Rykounagin as he yet snored in the little fighter.

Graysith turned to Shayla and cocked her brow before requesting the Revealer now show the pair the location of the fighter in which the sleeping lad lay, which it did with the obedient alacrity only a created device can give.

A tiny moonlet blacked out the starfield behind it... a starfield which upon Graysith's command was quickly identified.

Her lip curled, now with a touch of cruelty.

"It appears the fool sleeps while his ship lies in tatters about him; what a waste of a good fighter.

...interesting. Maybe the fool was planning to come back here and finish what he started."

Her eyes darkened further. Not this time.

"Perhaps the Greater Good is presenting us the opportunity to not only go to ShaRhylla, but to intercept this insolent assassin as well."

She paused at that, turning towards the Revealer, suddenly very curious. "What events transpired to bring the assasin, slumbering, to this location in a damaged fighter?"

The three-deminisional images which played out before them then, particularly those of Phalomir facing off with the boy, took Shayla by suprise. She turned to Graysith once they played out, unable to speak, uncertain what to make of the images...

...but growing darkly certain of what she would like to do to the assassin who lay unconcious...

She leaned in more closely, scrutinizing the image with great care as Lord Phalomir reached out and snatched the boy's throat in his massive, clawed hand. Her scrutiny grew even more intense when, seconds later, Rykounagin seemed to waver beneath that grip, closed his eyes and seemed to simply fall asleep.

Moments later Phalomir himself leaned into the boy, but try as she might Graysith could not discern what he was doing. And oddly enough, although the rest of the conversation between the two was crystal in its clarity, it suddenly grew quiet and muffled, as if distorted by something unknown to her.

She raised her head, peered down her nose and sniffed daintily.

"It does make one wonder just what machinations the Dark Lord is trying to accomplish, coming to the lad as he has," she said. While she knew very well she could easily have the revealer backtrack and show her the answer to this question, she found she didn't wish to actually have the answer planted in front of her. For as it was logic led her to the only conclusion she could come to:

Phalomir was a Dark Lord of the Sith. And Rykounagin was a Cult Assassin...

She shifted uneasily, unwilling to speculate where this scenario might lead. She did know that the boy had powers quite surprising for someone so young--

How did he come by those powers? Who gave them to him? Could he, as a Cult Assassin, be in league with more than one Dark Lord at a time, thus somehow being granted with powers more enhanced and highly advanced than would be normal?

She shook her head, still unwilling to ask for a blatant answer. Instead she turned to Shayla, one finger going to her chin as she speculated aloud.

"What do we know about this boy?" she wondered aloud, almost musingly.

"We know that he is a Cult Assassin... but where did he come from? The Sith have only recently been returned to life; did he come along handily with them, or was he part and parcel of our own universe? If that, how did he learn the arts that he knows, and to such a level as he does? Where did he come to know of these things?"

The Revealer didn't pause to pick and choose. It took as a command the last idle query falling from her lips. Immediately the images around them segued back to the asteroid, where the angry ShaRhylla was in the act of laying a peculiar looking device down upon a table in a well-appointed room.

Graysith's brow rose at this, and she shot a questioning look Shayla's way. Then--

...or perhaps something else entirely?"

She quieted, her eyes growing vague for a moment as she considered, something dark now crossing her mind. "I wonder if a Clan Lady can control an assassin as a Lord can?" she wondered aloud.

"I do not know much of these assassins, but I am most anxious to increase my knowledge of them."

She peered at the image again, watching her daughter as the young halfling stomped from the room where she had been perusing the device, returning to the apparent control room once more where she paused to simply glower at the meeping signal.

"Going by the knowledge revealed here that the asteroid was a training facility of some kind, it stands to reason that we might find more than just ShaRhylla hidden there."

With that she requested the Revealer show her the coordinates of the asteroid once more, leaning forward to concentrate upon the image that she wouldn't forget it. Nodding to herself, she ended their session with a simply uttered, "Finished," and with Shayla at her side departed from the Great Library of the Sith.

Upon reaching the Temple, she wasted no time in signalling one of the commanding Sith warriors.

"I am leaving Phrinnchatka for a short period of time, for the Heiress Apparent has gone missing, and information of her whereabouts has come to my ears. Until Salandaar is fully healed, you are in charge of the Temple."

The warrior's eyes grew round at the honor bestowed upon him, and he fell to one knee, vowing naught would happen to the city or the temple or the people, not on his watch.

Dismissing him, Graysith turned to Shayla.

Then, curious, she had to ask a question to follow her statement. "Does time require us to use a portal to travel to your daughter...

...or will we take a ship of some sort instead?"

"I believe we have the time to utilize a more conventional means of travel," she smiled as with swift footsteps she led Shayla from their place in the temple and headed toward the transport system. En route, she could not help but watch as Sith bustled here and there, some of them with their arms full of building and repair materials. Her eyes darkened upon seeing that, and a frisson of anger raced through her as she remembered what havoc the assassin had caused...

...not to mention the permanent heartache he came so very close to creating within her.

She cut her eyes to Shayla, taking in the shortness of her hair, the shininess of the skin of her face, and vowed once again the boy would more than repay her Adept for the transgression he had dealt so heavily upon her.

Her mind dwelling on such pleasurable thoughts as those blanked out the passage of time, and before she knew it they had arrived at the stairs which lead down into the transportation system. Mounting the steps, they soon reached the subterranean level, where the shine of gleaming metal bespoke of a portion of a track, newly laid.

Graysith stepped to a cleverly concealed console and keyed in a request for a private transport, then moved to the track designated by a patiently blinking sigil. Moments later a whispering hush of air announced the arrival of a transport, which both women then boarded.

Graysith announced their destination, and no sooner had the words left her lips than the hatch closed and the transport shot on down the track, after only a short bit of time pulling into the spaceport of Ch'arlingua. There they made their way to Graysith's private fighter, Chosen One, and soon were safely aboard.

It was only after Graysith had begun the warm-up sequence and requested their departure vector that she noticed the blatant yearning shining so strongly in her adept's greeny-blue eyes. Smiling, she quickly keyed in their destination, then got to her feet.

"If you will, my dear," she said, indicating the pilot's chair with a wave of one slender hand. Then she stood patiently, waiting to take Shayla's seat once the young woman had taken her place at the helm.

She paused a moment, trailing as her eyes defocused. Then she jerked herself from her darker thoughts and sat, directing her attention to the navboard as Graysith took a seat next to her. The Sith fighter purred a happy song, as if gleeful to be alive and running again. Shayla reached deftly to the controls, knowing Graysith had already keyed in the coordinates and knowing the fighter was warmed and ready to go. In only moments the appropriate departure vector arrived.

"Time to go," Shayla said quietly under her breath then, her fingers taking flight too as she began the departure sequence. The fighter responded by gracefully moving from the tarmac, the motion so effortless that in a mere moment the ship had moved from the ground and had begun moving forward in an almost seamless sequence.

Shayla smiled a bit, and gradually the atmosphere of Khar Delba began to fade into stars. As the atmosphere then totally disappeared, and the Chosen One found herself floating in space, Shayla allowed the ship a little more time to escape the planet's gravational field...

An insistent thought forced the little smile she had been wearing from her lips, replacing it with a frown.

How exactly was she to deal with ShaRhylla? The child was headstrong and imperious, prone to thinking only after she had over-reacted to whatever happened to anger her...

Graysith was positive their unexpected arrival was sure to set her daughter into a fit.