Star Wars: Slave Of Darkness

AN :

The next section after this chapter is going to be a bit of a timeskip as Tesser is getting his ass kicked for days on end, so this one was a little bit more of what's going on behind the scenes while that's happening and a bit of a...different perspective.

...

Ruby pits stared unblinkingly from the depths of its umbral shelter at the fleshling its new master had forced it to serve.

The creature had no eyes, only an approximation that mortals mistook for their equivalent. It had no mouth with which to make sounds, nor ears with which to hear them. The shape it wore now was merely a shell whose only purpose was to allow its essence to touch this new world of light and shadow.

It had no Name because it could not have a Name.

It had been born in unknowable ages before such things. Before the first voice spoke its terror aloud. Before the first eyes beheld horror. Before the first stars dared to challenge the eternal night.

The most potent fear in existence was that of the Unknown. And in the infinite darkness, there was much that was Unknown.

In that darkness, it had been mighty. Unchallenged.

But with the coming of Light, the primordial black had been pushed back, revealing the Unknown. Its essence burned, eating away at its strength until it was but a wisp of what it had once been.

What had once once been almighty and ethereal had been forced to acquire Form to exist in this world of Light. Where once it had been a titan of fear, it was now forced to hide in shadow and smoke to preserve itself.

Such was its weakness now that it found itself vulnerable to these…fleshlings. Chains of shadow had reached into what pitiful darkness remained, dragging it into the Light and Noise from its silent refuge.

Despite its unwilling summon, the Unknown obeyed, but not out of loyalty or any form of binding beyond the summons.

The first fleshling to bind the creature had drawn first its ire, then its curiosity. She had possessed the flicker of Light that all fleshlings did, yet it had been tarnished with a shard of the eternal night it had once known.

The Unknown remembered her well. The First Sorcerer's name had been burned into its essence as the ritual bound it to the material.

Sorzus Syn.

Her Name echoed still in the galaxy's dark places, millennia after her spark had long faded. The remnants of her power yet loomed far greater than any shadow it had ever seen.

She had Known the darkness like none it had encountered before. And in Knowing, she had stripped away yet more power from the Unknown and forced it to bend to her will.

Even now, understanding of how she had accomplished this eluded the Unknown. Because of that, curiosity had turned to respect. At first grudgingly, but eventually it became genuine.

In binding the Unknown through understanding it, she had created more Unknown in the process. That conundrum, that paradox made it respect her all the more.

But now, it had been called once more by another Sorcerer, Tesser.

There was no doubt in the mind of the Unknown that this new summoner was far inferior. Yes, the same burning ambition that had powered Sorzus Syn was there, but the desire for understanding was not.

Power was his desire. Power over his subordinates. Power over his masters. Power over his allies. Power over his enemies. Power over…himself.

His goal was domination, not understanding. Knowledge was merely a means with which to accomplish this task, not an end in itself.

Still, the arrangement was beneficial…for now. As all fleshlings did, this one too would perish eventually, whether by the hand of a foe or by his own, and the Unknown would regain its freedom, stronger than before. Free to feed on as much fear as it pleased.

As it fantasized about the terror it would one day spread, its thoughts were interrupted at a light being shined on its shadowy abode. The creature flinched back, not expecting the intrusion. A small hiss of smoke escaped its Form as the darkness was penetrated by the hated light.

A smile filled with missing teeth greeted it, its owner holding a pen light and pointing it directly at the Unknown. The thin man was dressed in the same armor as the other fleshlings that obeyed its summoner, but this one was more haggard than most. 

He was missing patches of wispy white hair from the top of his head, his right ear, and most of his face was a melted mess that resembled candle-wax.

"Not a fan o' a little bit o' light, are ye beastie?"

Its "eyes" narrowed at the gap-toothed fleshling, a gesture it had learned from Sorzus, as it pushed back the weak light, shoring up its Form against its miniscule, yet annoying, effect.

'When I am free once more, your soul shall be the first I devour.' It projected to the cretin.

If anything, the threat just made the fleshling smile wider, showing off yet more gaps in its mouth.

"Fidget, stop poking the abomination." The one called Maklan ordered, exhaustion or irritation coloring his tone.

The fleshling, now known to the creature as "Fidget," reluctantly clicked off the light and stood, but not before pointing two fingers at his own red and irritated fleshy orbs then at the Unknown.

"Ayem watchin' ye…"

Their respective glares lasted until the fleshling was forced to turn away by the captain.

Perhaps the proxy master had a use after all. Namely, in keeping annoyances such as "Fidget" away. Despite its threat, it had little desire to have a voice such as that echoing in the eternal night. A simple snap of the neck or strangulation would do.

Still, the dark was patient and so too was the Unknown.

It would make its vengeance against "Fidget" all the sweeter.

...

Maklan watched the Smoke Demon out of the corner of his eye from his seat at his "desk" in the barracks. Since leaving Korriban, the creature had been almost sluggish and unwilling to venture out in daylight. 

But after the Slicer raid, it had become more active and had dared to venture out into the sun on occasion. As well, it had started speaking more often, even if it was only to mock him or his men.

It made the captain wonder just how strong Tesser's control over it really was. Still, it obeyed for the moment and he would continue to make use of it. However, Fidget's prodding had revealed some interesting information that he filed away for later. Quietly, he made a mental note to add high-powered floodlights to their arsenal, just in case.

The captain ran a hand down his face before turning his attention fully to the datapad in his hands. The accounting of the Slicer's gear had finally been tallied. There were more weapons than they could use at the moment, but it made for the beginnings of a decent armory stock.

While there had been a significant stock of credits, most of their "goods" had consisted of various combinations of Spice. While some of his men were all for selling it, Maklan was uncomfortable with the idea of making use of the drugs for their intended purpose. 

It wasn't out of a sense of morals, but because he had seen first-hand what it could do to people that didn't have a superhuman tolerance for the stuff like Fidget did.

With side effects such as eventual blindness and loss of motor functions, Spice addicts were significantly less useful than sober people. He would rather not poison the well, so to speak, in the district he intended to eventually recruit from.

Theoretically, Spice could be refined into potent painkillers that lacked the more notorious side effects, but he lacked the facilities and equipment to perform the conversion.

As soon as the thought entered his mind, Maklan paused before making a note on his datapad.

Tesser had been mucking about with Renning's research a year before when he was learning from the fat bastard. Perhaps there had been something in there that could turn it into something usable. If not, then maybe their Sith backer could kick open a few doors among more "official" channels.

He was having to relearn what it was like to have a highly-placed superior that wasn't actively trying to get them killed. Yet, anyways.

For now, the Spice would stay where it was: behind a locked and reinforced door to keep the addicts out.

They had some actual medicine as well, though obviously not good quality. This was still the lower industrial district, so most of it was home-made cures for common illnesses and relatively-clean bandages. Some of it had already been distributed to the men to stock medkits in the barracks, but the rest was being assembled to sell as stock to the locals. 

With the raid, they weren't hurting for credits anymore, so they could afford to do so at low prices. Not only did it net them a little extra profit, there would be some good will garnered as well and the possibility of undercutting any potential competition.

Hell, they might even set up a clinic. Actual doctors rarely made their way this far down and most of his men had training that was roughly equivalent to the Imperial Army Tier One medic certification. If a disease started spreading in the district, they could nip in the bud…

The datapad was set aside as the medic scrambled for some flimsi, his mind already occupied with new plans and proposals to pitch to Tesser.

====================

The first book of this fanfic has been completed on Patreon, you can look it up in the collection alongside the second book. You can visit Patreon if you want to read in Advance.

 [email protected]/Rage_moon