He snarled again at the image of Panthar's retreating back which played across his inner eye...

And those eyes then slit with the knowledge that he could now act in defense of his love....

His lip curled in a sneer of disdain then as, raising a great clawed hand in the direction in which Panthar had fled, he drew in a great breath. Then he let that breath out as with the All he stretched his fingers outward, grasping, holding... and dividing.

And down a far corridor the molecules of the stone beneath Panthar's running feet roiled and loosened, becoming more and more energetic until they had enough energy to undergo a phase change. Quite suddenly those cold stones were simply liquified.

Panthar let out a reflexive yelp as he started sinking into the burning hot liquid stone... which then, at the command of Roan's curling hand, reverted to their former state, crystallizing back to their original flagstone, which neatly trapped Panthar at his lower chest.

His arms and hands laid upon stone... and the remainder of his body was utterly encapsulated.

Roan spat, his eyes all black pupil, as he sensed the man beginning to struggle for breath. Then he turned to Kreesha, swooping her into his arms, and with no further ado took her to her chambers. Depositing her therein, he bowed to her, then set out for his own privae rooms to prepare for his upcoming battle on the morn.

[ 07-06-2003 12:10 AM: Message edited 1 time, lastly by Dark Lord Roan ]

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

Almost immediately the warmth of the Eye within him flared to a hot point. His breathing returned slowly, one breath at a time. He was not sure what was happening, but his breath had indeed returned, even though the stone still constricted his chest, as if the breath was borrowed from a life-giving source.

Kreesha snarled as Roan left the room, ready to find this vermin who dared attack her and end its life. As she rose, her breath came up short. Each passing breath came harder, and as she struggled for air she fell back on the bed, her claws rending the sheets in desperation. The room swirled around her, and each frantic breath sucked in less and less air, until finally her raspy gasp brought forth nothing… and she lay still, eyes wide and staring.

A vivid red glow came forth from Phalomir’s chest. Slowly the rock around Phalomir glowed also, and soon gave way to a sluggish dough-like substance. He scrambled out of the hole and onto solid rock, bunching himself into a ball.

“What is this magick?” he sobbed. “I feel as Panthar must, I am no longer in control…”

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

Now her musings were completely overrun, squelched into obscurity as a great, raging burst of pure bewilderment struck her hard enough that she almost fell. Only the fact that in her musings she had placed one slender hand against the mantel of the fireplace kept her upright; even so, her reflexive grip upon that mantel was so strong that all the nails of the hand promptly snapped, embedded deeply into the wood.

Blinking, she threw back her head, the motion bringing herself upright, and gradually she became aware of just where that blow had come from.

It had come along the link she had opened with Phalomir.

The Glyph on her forehead exploded into ferocious life, as if it too were responding to something attacking from out of the blue. Its brilliance bathed the stone in front of her, the light so blinding that the dancing flames in the hearth were all but invisible in comparison.

She stood frozen in the spot for only a moment more... then turned and instinctively fled from her chambers. Her prior reflections had come on the heels of her daily martial routine; thus her feet were bare, slapping lightly upon the stones of the corridors she fled along, her body wrapped only in her form-fitting practice doba. Like a black ghost she flew through one corridor and the next, her eyes now nearly falling closed as she let the link lead her to the spot, the Glyph lighting the way in front of her like a tiny sun.

She came upon him curled into a ball, shuddering.

And there she paused, shocked into immobility, something about his aspect warning her, incongruously enough, to remain far, far away.

[ 07-06-2003 01:46 AM: Message edited 1 time, lastly by Graysith ]

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He saw a figure of someone standing in the distance, a strange light around her. As his eyes cleared, recognition flared and he identified the Lady Jharmeen, the light shining from the glyph on her forehead. A sudden jolt from his midsection caused Phalomir to wince in pain, and he could feel a blast of heat suddenly swell within him.

“No, no, NO!!!!!” he yelled, clenching his eyes. Phalomir concentrated on keeping down the force within him, not knowing how save to tighten every muscle of his body into a wall of will. A soft, whispering voice came wafting through his thoughts.

warriors must not possess the knowledge of all…

“What?!” he cried through clenched teeth. “What knowledge? What all?”

The heat inside of him swelled higher. He struggled to his feet and leaned against the wall. “Whatever grudges you hold against the warriors, THIS ONE YOU SHALL NOT HAVE!”

He held his abdomen tightly and glanced quickly at Lady Jharmeen. Phalomir’s skin was glowing brightly red. “My Lady,” he managed, “run…”

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

No. Not air that he needed.

Kreesha.

Gods....

A bellow of rage pulled him upright and he turned on the spot. His feet pounded upon the flagstones, his heart pounded in his chest as he raced back to the chambers in which he had just deposited the one and only thing he held dear to him in the entire universe.

He arrived in time to see the light of life fade in her eyes.

"NO-OO-OOO!!"

The bellow erupted like the explosion of a volcano, bursting its way from his chest and spilling hot and fiery between his lips. He rushed to her, took up her still-warm body, cradled her to him, holding her tight, oh so tight.

The chill rising up in her neatly counterbalanced his own growing heat. He blinked in the face of denial, knowing denial would prove naught.

He raised a hand that actually trembled for the first time in his memory, ran it along her luxurious hair, down the smooth skin of her face, down her trailing arm, now as limp as her white mane.

"Kreesha...."

His head suddenly jerked up as inspiration struck.

The All. He could use its immense power to go back, to bring her back to him.

He threw back his head, reached out with his clawed hand, sought that connection he had with those universal powers....

Only for this, it would not come.

He waited... tried again, waited longer. Then, succumbing to rare defeat, he laid her gently upon her bed, sat beside her, stroking her. And at last bent to bestow a final kiss upon her.

When he raised himself from that kiss, his eyes were as red as the blood now pooling in her veins. His brows lowered thunderously then as, pulling his sword from its belt he headed to the door, out into the hall, following the connection he felt in his every cell which he knew would take him to that which had slain her. Nothing existed for him but a red haze and the blood now surging into his muscles, expanding his lungs to take in more air, strengthening his body, firming his resolve, fueling his hatred and desire for revenge.

He came upon him, sneered to see the pitiful ball he was wrapped up as. Something glowed from his body, red and viscous; he seemed to be trying to hold it in. Or to warm himself from that red glow, for he curled about it like a gleeberfly larva curling up to spin its cocoon. Standing somewhat in the distance, obviously wavering was... her.

His eyes slitted into twin pools if oil, and he gripped his sword.

One at a time I shall deal with these pitiful beings, he snarled to himself, shifting his grip a bit to settle his weapon better in his hand.

First this... being; then... her... and lastly that pitiful excuse of a warrior lord. Then all shall be mine.

One at a time.

He stepped forward, his sword raised but even so his off hand raised as well in preparation of using the All if need be.

[ 07-06-2003 12:05 PM: Message edited 1 time, lastly by Dark Lord Roan ]

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no grudges, only protection

Phalomir screamed as the power surged from his body, his back arching and arms flying outward, face in an unnatural contortion. A red tendril of electricity flew from Phalomir’s right hand to the glyph on Lady Jharmeen’s head, freezing her in an expression of surprise. A pulse of white light instantly traced from her back to Phalomir. Phalomir’s left hand extended behind him, shooting a bright red and white streaked arc of energy to a location he could not see. A startled and angry bellow let loose from the location, followed by a heavy crash. The energy abated, allowing Phalomir to sink to his knees. Lady Jharmeen collapsed where she stood.

Phalomir crawled quickly to her side. She was breathing, but unconscious and incredibly pale. He tried to lift her, but the strength was not there. Muffled sounds of shifting rock came from the area behind him, and he felt a soft warmth in his midsection.

in time she will understand her legacy, protect her, my son

With a sudden burst his strength returned, and he gathered up the Lady and sped quickly down the hall, looking for a place to hide.

He ran quickly, twisting and turning through unfamiliar hallways and rooms, until at last he burst through a door and into the morning sunlight. Squinting from the glare, he ran swiftly for the nearby trees.

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

Perhaps it was not totally Panthar who ran with the Lady in his arms. Perhaps there was another, urged on by the senseless whispers of one gone mad, who now may or may not be chortling at the pretty flowers and slugs they were streaming in their wake. Such things more than likely were not of concern to Panthar, whose only reaction was quite obviously to get the hell as far away from whatever had just happened before other Sith arrived to investigate the ruckus, or the Dark Lord came back to consciousness.

Only he never would.

He lay half supine against the wall, his head propped crookedly, one horn broken by the impact with that wall as a result of the tremendous energies flung out so unexpectedly from the human. His brilliant turquoise eyes stared out unseeing, accusing, and for the first time filled with complete and utter shock that such an effrontery dare take place, to coagulate his very blood in his veins, to thicken the very air in his lungs.

He lay there, sword dripping from a hand so utterly relaxed, that admixture of emotions permanently affixed to his fearsome visage, offering his final epitaph to the Sith warriors who at last came up and found their Dark Lord dead.

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

Phalomir closed his eyes. Much had just happened, he needed time to reflect and comprehend it all. The Eye had spoken to him, this he was sure. But the feelings it gave, not of revenge but of protection. And to protect the Lady? From what? He considered this as he fell into a deep sleep.

Panthar opened his eyes immediately.

“He may be sleepy, but I’m sure as hell not!” he said. He looked around at his tight surroundings. “Where am I? What the hell just happened? Who is this on my lap… buh?”

Panthar froze as recognition of the Lady Jharmeen came to him. He regarded her slender, sleeping form in the tight doba, her feet bare, his shirt wrapped loosely around her.

“Oh, Phalomir, you little devil. What have you been up to?”

Something was not entirely right, however. Her hand seemed cut, all of the nails broken. She was incredibly pale, although now some of the color was coming back. He reached out and softly stroked her hair, just as she began to quietly stir.

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

Time passed. He didn't know how much. But finally a sympathetic hand laid upon his shoulder.

"The Dark Lady too is gone," a quiet voice revealed that which he feared most. He closed his wonderful aquamarine eyes against new pain; when they flickered open they were filled with nothing but resolve.

"All was well until the newcomers came... the humans," he snarled, gripping his sword even tighter.

"Find them. Find them all... and bring them to me in the Receiving Hall."

This answer was not what she expected.

The whirling swirls of color and shadow and light gradually slowed, coalesced. The shadow became that shed softly upon her by a great tree, whose leaves rustled in the freshing breeze as if they had nothing better at the moment to do. The color became a palette of greens and browns and from somewhere a fading red... and the light...

Became something she was so suddenly aware of, coming out of a pair of hazel eyes which were entirely too close to her.

Twin recognition flashed heatedly into her body: She was laying beneath a tree with her head in Mr. Dantares' lap... and the familiar warmth of her talents were entirely too lengthy a time in coming to her call.

She froze, considering. Then her eyes slitted. Indeed, the All might be the majority of who and what she now was, but even when it was so mysteriously lessened...

Lessened? How could this be so?? She would determine this later.

...it did not leave her completely defenseless. Darth Wicked had taught her well; the dark jedi use more than the dark side of the force in battle, and Wicked was the most powerful of the dark jedi she had ever run across.

She leapt to her feet, the Tooth of S'slan in her hand, crouched and ready. Her eyes stared dangerously into Panthar's rapidly widening ones.

"What did you do, and how have I come to be here?" she hissed, crouching more loosely on the balls of her feet, her grip on the Tooth tightening, the other reaching out to block whatever move he might make toward her.

[ 07-06-2003 01:49 PM: Message edited 1 time, lastly by Graysith ]

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He slumped deeper into his sitting position, hands going to his lap.

“If you wanted to kill me, I couldn’t stop you,” he sighed. “But before I die, I think something big just happened with Phalomir, he sort of just passed out and left me here without explaining anything. I remember getting lost in the halls, then something about seeing a mountain of a Sith guy leaving a big horned woman to go fight some pretender and then she saying something about knowing I was there, except it wasn’t me you see, and then the crystal thing in my belly taking over and blasting her, and I don’t remember much else after that, until just now.”

He sighed again. “Oh, and right before he passed out, there was some whisper about needing to protect you. But that’s all, slay away.”

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

...but somehow... inappropriate at this time.

She remained in that stance a moment longer before finally letting out a breath of air. The Tooth made a liquid swishing sound as she slid it into its sheath on her thrimm, moving up to stand more closely in front of him as she did so. She came to a halt and stared intensely down upon him.

"I will not slay you, Mr. Dantares," she began quietly, surprisingly quietly. "For somehow I--"

A heartbeat.

"I... somehow feel there has already been too much unnecessary death."

Unnecessary....

Somewhere deep within her psyche, the Beast perked its ears, slitted its own eyes, and licked its lips.

She quieted, then hunkered down on the balls of her feet, her hands hanging loosely between her knees. Then one hand shot out to grasp Panthar's chin, forcing him to look her straight in the eye.

"Phalomir," she called out suddenly. "Can you hear me? For as you said to me not long ago, there is indeed much of which we need speak."

[ 07-06-2003 02:12 PM: Message edited 1 time, lastly by Graysith ]

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“Oh no, not again… at least give me back my shirt later, OK?”

Panthar’s pupils flared and his facial expressions grew lighter.

“My lady, you are awake. I apologize for your waking surroundings, but I feared greatly for your safety… and mine… and hid us away for the time.”

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

She shook her head, clearing the errant but quite natural reaction from herself, and steadied her gaze once more.

"What have you done to me, Phalomir?" For as quickly as the events had dominoed, they had not erupted so quickly that she was unable to recall that last searing memory, one of a brilliant red arc lancing into her from Dantare's hand, upon whose heels there came groggy wakefulness beneath this tree, her head in an unfamiliar lap.

[ 07-06-2003 02:24 PM: Message edited 1 time, lastly by Graysith ]

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“I spent the last few moments drifting, not in sleep but in a more literal sense. I have discovered the ability to let my spirit roam free, move through walls, and interact through what I can only assume is the Sith magick running through my spirit. The temple is experiencing pockets of activity, my lady, your warriors searching in every corner, and Sith of high rank gathering in a dark room. I only heard a small portion of their conversation before you called me back, but I fear that perhaps the Dark Lord is in peril… perhaps worse.

There is a death for certain, a wild-eyed Sith lady caught me as I wandered the hallways earlier, threatened me. I know the Eye stole her life to give mine back to me. She was with a large, mountainous Sith – in the robes of the Dark Lord – oh dear…

“And there is more… the Eye said you would understand your legacy in time, but for now you need my protection.”

Phalomir shook his head. “I know not what else to say.”

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

Celebration.

She jerked back to awareness then, even as the pounding of feet came to her ears, as cries shattered the mid-morning calm, as the ring of steel heralded the ring of blades which came from nowhere to surround them where they sat.

Great clawed hands reached daringly to her, took her by the shoulders, raised her to her feet. As if from a distance Salandaar's voice came to her ears, worriedly inquiring as to her well-being, then going on in a rush to inform her of the deaths of the Dark Lord and the One-Who-Would-Not-Be-Named, she who had been defeated in battle once, and now for a second and final time as she appeared to creep a traitor's path through the darkened hallways of the Temple.

Jharmeen Jhin'Dar opened her mouth to scream at it all... Graysith blinked her violet eyes as new apprehension rose up in them at Phalomir's words....

But it was the Dark Lady Q'utaro who finally rose from her own jumble of personae to reply to the strapping warrior.

"Take... her body and feed it to the tuk'ata," she commanded regally. "And as for His...."

She trailed momentarily as something dark flashed deeply into her eyes.

"Go and prepare it for the funerary rites his station deserves."

Salandaar nodded, waving to his warriors to imprison the still sitting Panthar when Graysith intervened.

"This one has caused no harm," she said smoothly. "Indeed, if it weren't for him that which has slain the Dark Lord might have killed me as well. Instead, I was brought here in safety; for that honor, he may walk with us back to the Temple, a guest, not a prisoner."

Her eyes deepened further.

"There are those yet among us who do wield some sort of power; jedi they call themselves. Perhaps they might have words to explain the deaths of the Dark Lord and... and the Unmentionable One."

With that she turned regally to lead the way back to the Temple, pausing but for a moment to send a particular look into Panthar's hazel eyes... hazel eyes which seemed to have the ghostly image of a color more brilliant floating deeply within their depths.

We shall discuss at greater length, you and I, she slid the thought smoothly into Phalomir's consciousness.

Indeed, you can rely upon it.

[ 07-06-2003 02:57 PM: Message edited 1 time, lastly by Graysith ]

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But when the sound of those booted footsteps became increasingly greater...

Shayla froze in her tracks, bringing Erik to a forced halt behind her. Frowning, she immediately stretched out in the Force, sensing waves of palpable despair...

...and was suddenly blinded by a vision of red so great that it drove her to her knees, quite nearly knocking her senseless. She gasped, and could feel Erik's supportive hands go about her and pull her up.

He turned her to face him, shaking her. "Shayla?" he queried worriedly, looking into her eyes as she strove to gain composure once more. "What's wrong...?"

"Something, something terrible has happened...

...I can feel it..."

Even as Shayla spoke the words, those booted footsteps she'd be hearing matched themselves with a group of Sith warriors who immediately began to surround them.

Shayla turned her greeny-blue eyes up into a pair of brightly colored Sith ones...

...and she was struck again by that overwhelming despair. "What has happened...?" she asked worriedly...

The Sith warrior did not reply to her question, but rather answered instead with, "Your presence has been requested in the Receiving Hall."

Shayla nodded, her eyes both worried and confused. As she did so, the group of Sith warriors surrounded them...

...and they were lead to the Receiving Hall without so much as another word.

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

Especially the stress which bubbled out of Shayla in an overwhelming fount. Some vision about something red....

She frowned a bit at that, not recognizing that vision, wondering if it had something to do with her latest encounter with energies of that color... and could not help but glance down to her hand. While her abilities were back to their full use, she had chosen to not restore her broken nails, but rather let them remain as they were as a...

Reminder.

She yanked her head back up, and tucked her hands inside the sleeves of her doba. Nodding briefly to Salandaar then, she glided forward and stopped in front of Shayla and Erik.

Her eyes were like violet rocks in her head as with no warning she lanced out with the All, probing into their minds, their beings, their very essences... and found therein that of which she had spoken. Her eyes slitted then as she pulled back, and a thin smile came to her features.

"The Dark Lord is dead," she intoned without preamble. "He was a powerful Dark Warrior and Lord, and bestowed with certain... strengths which would assure that no simple interplay of swords would lay him low. Indeed, there was no sign--"

She trailed, cutting her eyes back to Salandaar, who merely lowered his lids and bowed in affirmation.

"--to indicate his death was a result of battle, or by any other natural means."

Again she paused, her tongue peeping out to wet her lips, and she began pacing back and forth in front of them, measuring them, like a Myrkrian vornksyr gauging the distance to its prey before it leaps. At length she paused in her step, cocking her head to one side, wetting her lips yet again.

"There is a... a power I sense within you; indeed, it is within you both. It is something strange to the Sith; perhaps it is something with the ability to overcome a Dark Lord in his prime?

"For more than coincidental do I find it indeed that we have had no problems here on K'eel Doba... until your arrival, that is. Not to mention the fact that, while the others who came on your heels chose to leave when the opportunity was presented...."

Another pause. A sugary sweet smile.

"You did not."

[ 07-06-2003 09:52 PM: Message edited 1 time, lastly by Graysith ]

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

...but aside from that I use it for nothing else. I am deeply sorry to hear of the Dark Lord's untimely death; I did not know that anything had occurred til moments ago when you sent your guards for my husband and I, and when I stretched out in the Force to sense overwhelming despair...

...and to see the vision of something blindingly red. And it was only just now when I knew the reason for the despair was the death of the Dark Lord."

Shayla paused for a moment then, letting these words sink in and hoping that everyone here would believe what was nothing more than the truth. Then, "And the reason my husband and I remained was due to the fact that there is such an overwhelming discrepancy surrounding the true nature of the Sith. Indeed; most in the Universe believe the Sith to be anyone who uses the Darkside, and are not even aware that instead the Sith are a race of peoples.

"My interest here was to set the record straight, for myself if not for anyone else."

With nothing more than that Shayla fell silent, and waited, hoping her words would be seen as truth...

...and her innocence would be determined.

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

The Revealer! He recalled the oddly prophetic message the Revealer supplied him concerning the progeny of Mir. Perhaps it could shed some light on this mystery.

He left his body for a moment, thrusting Panthar back into the lead, but with instructions to keep quiet and still. Phalomir made his way back to the revealer. The room was empty, but the Revealer still spun its colorful scapes

The Dark Lord Roan is dead. You foresaw this, who killed him?

The unfocused image of a Sith male filled the colored area. It slowly became clearer, seeming to transform from an old man's face into a young, strong one. Phalomir recognized the face as his own.

And what purpose did this death serve?

A single word, in the Sith tongue, appeared: Unity

More riddles? I grow impatient for the anwers.

Another set of words appeared: Civilization did not grow overnight, my son

Surprise beset Phalomir, sending him sailing back immediately to Panthar's body. He snapped his spirit to alertness and wondered if Lady Jharmeen's link had travelled with him.

[ 07-06-2003 10:18 PM: Message edited 1 time, lastly by patternghost ]

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"Merely the capability of telekinesis???" she finally whispered back, a look of sheer disbelief now clearly planted upon her pale visage. The Glyph cried out it's own brand of effrontery. "Have you any idea what that entails? Objects can be manipulated, moved; common and everyday things turned from the mundane into deadly projectiles."

She paused, her nose wrinkling now.

"Perhaps this Force of yours which so enhances your own senses did so from afar, increasing your wiliness and your cunning. Perhaps it gave you insight as to the means by which the great Dark Lord and my counterpart, Ankrist Roan, could be slain as if he were a dragon-kit.

"Perhaps your ability to respond to things acted in your stead as he came out from his rooms, where he was undoubtedly preparing for battle on the morrow, and enabled you to slay him from afar with those enhanced abilities of which you speak."

She spat, whirled about, and ascended the dias. She did not take a seat upon the carved chair, however, but stood well down from it, letting its massive beauty act in counterpoint to her own slightness, and make all the more overpowering the words she was now speaking.

"You would take it upon yourself to be diplomatic liason of my peoples..." she trailed off, leaning forward now, her eyes slitting and the Glyph fairly yowling upon her brow.

"Yes, I said my peoples! For to them do I truly belong!"

She cut herself off with that, her breast heaving with the sudden rush of anger now filling her, her eyes blackening to ingots in her head. Her hands slid from the sleeves of her doba, and she fisted them, forcing control back, calming herself. She raised her head, and took a deep breath.

"It is not your place to be our liason. This shall be One who is chosen by our peoples, and of them.

"Not some stranger coming to our world seeking an imaginary woman, who prefers to remain unto herself, quite possibly because she was answering to agendas of her own."

She forced a sweet smile upon her lips then, and leaned forward into Shayla's face.

"Upon this world, one is not innocent until proven guilty, but the converse," she said sweetly.

"And so far, I am not convinced of your veracity."

[ 07-07-2003 01:31 PM: Message edited 1 time, lastly by Graysith ]

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

The Dark Lady raised her chin, now connecting directly with Salandaar. She nodded once to him, raising one hand at the same time to indicate that Shayla stay whatever reply she was about to make. The warrior came up to the dias, shouldering past the quiet humans, paused to bow to Graysith, and then mounted the stairs. He stopped on a step two tiers down from where she stood; he was so tall that even from there he was on level with her ear.

Toward which he now leaned, and whispered something.

Graysith leaned a bit forward to receive that information... then shot bolt upright. Her eyes widened, the Glyph raged to an even greater extent upon her forehead.

"...But remember, no matter what happens, no matter what i ever do in my blindness... I promised never to leave your side... and although once i have done it already... I will never do it again...."

Now her eyes slit and she pulled herself up into a regal pose. Salandaar, now overlooked before her, bowed his way back to his original station.

"Before his death, the Dark Lord had been challenged to Entitlement, which you may know," she offered, surprisingly. "It would seem that the one who has challenged has...."

She paused a heartbeat, allowing the Beast within to gain complete control of a tiny little speck which was suddenly crying out in pain.

"Disappeared."

She stood a moment longer in silence, turning her gaze now back into Shayla's pair. For a long moment she remained like that, as if in consideration. Then--

"Considering this new set of... circumstantial evidence..."

Another measuring look at Shayla.

"...I call for Stance of Denial, as is within my right as Dark Lady of the Warrior clan of the Sith."

With that she nodded once, then swept off the dias, heading toward the door. En route she passed near Salandaar, and without even stopping whispered softly to him as she passed,

"Make certain they are watched at all times."

The warrior bowed his head, his fist slapping to his chest, and quickly implemented that order to other warriors standing nearby. Then he stepped forth himself, and hurried after his Dark Lady who paused long enough to shoot a dark look directly into Phalomir's eyes before leaving the Great Receiving Hall altogether.

[ 07-07-2003 01:34 PM: Message edited 1 time, lastly by Graysith ]

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Phalomir reflected upon on the events of the morning once more. He suddenly felt used, first by his father, then by the Eye, and now by the Dark Lady. His father must have known that someday Phalomir and Thoran would be freed, and would have known what it was they were to do. But something went wrong, and now they were both just ghosts sitting inside a human shell. Phalomir suddenly longed to feel his full height, stretch his enormous muscles, and proudly stand as a Sith once again.

Still he stared…

And the Eye, with its need to protect. Why did it need him for this? Was there not a more powerful member of the sorcerers who could more easily perform this task? Or did his father do this, modifying the Eye to a function beyond its original power? Why did the Eye not tell him sooner, if it had the ability to communicate all this time?

Still he stared…

And now the Dark Lady, Jharmeen. What was her true story? How would a human come to be the Dark Lady of the Warriors? Why would the Dark Lord tolerate this? And to what end was she working towards with her accusations of the other humans? She had to have known of his revelations via the Revealer.

And still he stared…

She used you, as she uses everyone she touches

Thoran? No, and not Panthar. A new voice? Quiet, very quiet. Another soul trapped as I am? Or perhaps I now share some of Thoran’s madness?

No madness, but reason. You are the rightful Dark Lord of the Warriors, the rightful heir to take your place atop the entire Sith

Who are you? What do you want of me? How will you use me?

Heh heh heh… A quality a Dark Lord must possess is to recognize the spirits of your victims, it is a trait that in time I will teach you. But first, let us remove a certain link from your mind…

Phalomir’s stare hardened, and the Sith warrior blinked and turned away.

[ 07-07-2003 03:53 PM: Message edited 1 time, lastly by patternghost ]

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She had to know. And there was only one place she could think of where that answer might be found.

She blinked as she stepped out into the dimness of the Library, pausing a moment to let her eyes adapt themselves to the swift change in lighting. Ahead of her, the quietly spinning Revealer announced its operational presence by its soft greeny-golden glow, by its unheard yet distinctly felt bass thrumming as it moved within its spheres, and by the gaping mouth of the Keeper who turned to her in shock.

"M-Milady," he gulped, scrambling to his feet from where he had been kneeling in front of the Revealer, still trying to understand exactly what had caused it to crash...

...as well as how it had so easily come back to life.

He bowed awkwardly, laying the stub-fingered hand against his chest, unable to fist it.

"I-- I am honored," he stammered on, then fell into silence, waiting.

The Lady Q'utaro stood in front of him, contemplating the exotic Revealer for a bit before finally responding.

"You have done your duties well, old one," she said smoothly, now returning her gaze to the humbled Keeper of the Light. Her eyes fell upon his marred hand; she frowned, the Glyph sparking into life.

"You never deserved that," she said softly... and in a rare moment reached out with her talents to manipulate attendant molecules... borrowing carbon from the wooden buttresses, and oxygen and hydrogen from the very air they breathed. The Glyph quieted a bit as she finished, and she cocked her head to one side watching the man.

He was numbed. Then he fell to the floor.

"Mi-Milady, my most sincere and humble--" he began but was cut short as she approached him. She smiled, laying a hand atop his tri-horned head.

"You were surprised before my arrival, Keeper of the Light," she whispered. "Now... why is that so?"

He swallowed, then blurted out the entire incredible story. How her son had come, asking questions relating to something called dark jedi, how the Revealer snapped out, apparently unable to reply, how he had chased the youth from the Library, only to return and find it fully operational once again, although he had not had the time to contact a Sorcerer and see about its repair.

Graysith's lips trembled the slightest. Then they smoothed into a gentle smile. She bent down and whispered into his ear, "I have need of the services of the Revealer. Please, remain."

The Keeper merely nodded, keeping his eyes glued to the floor. Graysith rose and approached the Revealer, came to a halt before it, paused with her lip caught up between her teeth. Abruptly, she asked a Question.

The Revealer promptly brightened, sending flashes of green and gold off into the dimness of the Great Library, from whence it found the answer she sought and promptly portrayed it in a series of flashing holograms.

The line of the Dark Lord of the Warriors of the Sith... progressing all the way from the beginning of their history...

...and through Ankrist Roan.

No mention anywhere of the Q'utaro line.

None.

She blinked her startlement, and could not help but glance down to the tattoo which lay upon her wrist. It gleamed, quietly alive, in mute testimony of her position.

She trembled at the paradox. Thought of the magickal abilities of Jharu's sword. Snapped her gaze back to the Revealer. And with something which was a cross between a snarl and a cry of deep anguish, raised her hand to send it into oblivion.

But stopped. For did not the tattoo on her wrist proclaim her as Dark Lady? For indeed she was that, the title won in fair battle against the Sith warrioress and former Lady.

Yet, if the Revealer now proclaimed no link to the Q'utaro line whatsoever, by what right had she to challenge Kreesha? For only those in line by blood or marriage could indeed do so....

She swallowed heavily, forcing her bewildered hurt and anger deep into herself. Then she turned to the Keeper of the Light, who had wisely kept his eyes and ears closed during this entire episode.

"Please, good sir, I believe this device is in need of cleaning. I would suggest that you devote your talents to that end, and do not let it be used any further. At least not until you have finished with this task.

"Which--"

She trailed with a smile, the smile broadening when he lifted his aged face to her in further surprise.

"Which I feel will more than likely take some time to accomplish. Months, perhaps. Or even years. I understand how intricate and delicate a task this is; during this hiatus the people can seek elsewhere to find answers to their questions."

The Keeper cast a glance at the Revealer, which appeared to be operating as normal. Then he glanced down upon his restored hand.

"It shall be as you wish, Milady," he said simply, bowing once again. When he straightened, she was gone.

He sighed, and began to disassemble that wonderful device, an endeavor made all the easier for the fact that he now had two hands with which to work. He smiled at the ease and rapidity which he was now able to do this, and soon the spinning orb was laying, silent and black, on the stone floor amidst a pile of lesser ones of graduating size.

He got to his feet with a sigh, and contemplated the Library banks.

So much to now attend to....

[ 07-07-2003 05:26 PM: Message edited 1 time, lastly by Graysith ]

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“I am the heir to the Sorcerers,” he thought. “But my time is passed. By what ignorance do you make these claims to the Warriors?”

No ignorance, boy. Knowledge, wisdom, and desire. I feel it within you, the Eye feels it within you… Yes, I know of the Eye… I know it was the Eye that sent my flesh to my impending grave, but it has shown me the reasons… and I, for one, agree with them

Understanding leaped to Phalomir, along with surprise and anguish.

“You cannot be him… the Eye killed you for unity…”

Yes, unity… but not as you think…you must kill her, add her spirit to mine…

“NO! This IS madness. You lie! I am sworn to protect her!"

Really? Did you SWEAR it, boy? Did you swear upon the soul of your father? Kill her, eradicate my mistakes, take the other as mate

"You are insane! The Eye has imprisoned you and you deceive me to free yourself! Or you are not real and this is trick of another! Either way, I deny you your freedom!”

Phalomir pushed with his spirit, harder and harder until he could feel the voice begin to retreat into the nothingness from whence it came.

Have patience, boy. I have eternity to wait for you…

And then silence…

[ 07-07-2003 07:02 PM: Message edited 1 time, lastly by patternghost ]

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