Star Wars: Slave Of Darkness

As she checked the supply list provided by the quartermaster of the relief platoon, Tyrene watched her fellow apprentice out of the corner of her eye with a sense of wariness scratching at her mind. Since awakening, Ortan had retreated into a sullen silence, content to all but ignore her and focus on training.

For a man given to making arrogant boasts at the slightest provocation, it was uncharacteristic. If nothing else, he would have made a comment about her being more injured than he had been. And yet, there was not a word.

While the behavior was unusual, there were some possible explanations for it.

Once he'd returned from the academy medical ward, Darth Scriver had been consumed with delving the secrets of Graush's tomb with an eagerness that had not been dampened by the loss of an eye. Ortan had been used to being the favored apprentice and the lack of their Master's attention might have been a hit to his ego.

Tyrene would quietly admit to herself that she was grateful for Scriver being so occupied. After all, it left the Sith Lord with less time to remember that a certain acolyte had escaped while under her watch.

Speaking of her annoying shadow, perhaps Ortan was simply upset that the ghost had seemed to take more of an interest in a mere acolyte than three full-fledged Sith. It had stung her pride as well, but it had been quickly overcome by relief that Graush's power had been turned away from her, if only for a few moments.

It was one thing to hear tales of the sorcerers of old. It was quite another to face one down personally.

In the privacy of her own thoughts, the Sith fervently thanked Typhojem that the ghost had still been shaking off the dust of ages when they had encountered him.

Yes, the sorcerer-king had not been at full strength. Awake enough to be both aware and angry at their intrusion, certainly, but like a muscle atrophied from disuse, the millennia-long slumber had dulled the ghost's ability to draw on his vast well of power. 

He had not called upon his greater magics nor simply crushed them into paste with a thought. Despite that, a mere off-hand push with the Force had still dented her armor and broken bones.

A shudder briefly passed through her and Tyrene quickly pushed the images conjured by her subconscious from her mind.

'Let Ortan sulk. Let Darth Scriver play with his artifacts.' She decided, allowing her eyes to turn away from her fellow apprentice and focus momentarily on the black armor of a passing soldier, 'There are far more interesting matters at work.'

While she would never admit it outloud, especially to the man in question, studying Aldrex's methods had become something of a side project for her. She had not missed how Aldrex had placed himself between the soldiers and Graush…nor how the soldiers had rallied to him without a word.

That in itself was not surprising. No, what came as a shock was the reaction of the soldiers after Aldrex was kidnapped.

In the dark of night, away from the eyes of the Sith, several platoons had been conspiring.

Tyrene was aware of the Korriban Regiment's status as a penal legion. They were the Empire's thieves, murderers, and worse. They all had valid reasons for being sentenced to the red planet, to face its unending trials.

And yet, she had sensed the embers of loyalty simmering in the hearts of at least a few of the assembled officers. She had not been made entirely privy to their plans, but she suspected that they may have dared to attempt a rescue had they discovered Aldrex's location.

The more she pondered it, the more she came to question her upbringing. Learning at her father's feet, she had been taught to think of the Imperial military as little more than tools to advance the agenda of the Sith. That a single soldier was worth far less than a Sith.

This teaching applied to the soldiers of the Republic as well. Without the Force, they were just annoyances, easily brushed aside. The Jedi were the only credible threat.

In her time with Darth Scriver, she had only spent a handful of days in direct contact with the soldiers of the Empire.

But the more she observed the soldiers, and Aldrex by proxy, the more she came to understand. As with any Sith, the soldiers were tools to him. But he had listened to them as well.

They were his hands and his eyes. They obeyed his orders, but they also offered their opinions.

Perspective, she realized, was the greatest benefit they provided. The Sith saw the galaxy through the lens of the Force, of Light versus Dark. How then did it appear to one who lacked that?

She had always been taught that the Force was all the guidance she would ever need. But Aldrex had clearly proven that wrong. Had she followed only the Force, her corpse would be digesting in the gut of a Terentatek.

It was thoughts such as these that had brought her to researching exactly what kept a unit of this size combat capable. The supplies they needed, the numbers they were deployed in, and the hierarchy of the Imperial command structure beneath the Sith.

Aldrex's soldiers had quickly packed up and left nearly a day ago, with only a whispered "he's back" as an explanation. The relief platoon had yet to show any of the willfullness of Lieutenant Maklan's men, but then, she had yet to earn even a modicum of their trust.

As she silently watched the troopers patrol the camp, the idea of commanding soldiers of her own started to become more and more appealing…

...

On a world far from the sands of Korriban, another was deep in thought.

Wind rustled quietly through the trees, gently prying loose leaves and carrying them aloft and teasing at locks of blonde hair. A puff of breath blew the strands of hair from their owner's face, blue eyes intent on glaring at their uncooperative target.

Why wasn't it working?

The girl stood up to her full height, though she was not particularly tall. Her weapon, a stick, clutched tightly in her hand, the other was thrust out.

Nothing.

Again, she tried.

Still nothing.

A groan of frustration escaped her mouth. She was doing everything her brothers had done. The same stance, the same grip, even the same facial expression.

So why wasn't it working?!

It was so easy when she was just fooling around. But now when she wanted to be serious, it wouldn't come?

The girl paced back and forth, her frustration continuing to build with each step.

Again, the hand thrust out.

The armor moved slightly, swaying in the wind.

After several more attempts, it all became too much for her. Her anger surged up and she screamed at it.

A wave of power burst out from her, forcing trees to bend away from her and grass to be ripped from the ground. The suit of armor, the target of her ire, exploded into hundreds of pieces, peppering the area around it with shrapnel.

The girl covered her face with her arm and turned away, but didn't feel anything hit her.

As the ringing causes by her own voice faded, whispers spoke at the edge of hearing, but they were too quiet to make out.

"My my, such fiery rage in a girl so young." A voice remarked, a deep rumble that seemed to echo in the silence, "I wonder what could provoke such frustration."

The girl's eyes widened in surprise as she whirled, her stick held threateningly with both hands. She knew that she had been alone mere moments ago.

Seated at the base of one of the large trees with his back leaning against the trunk was an old man, a metal cane grasped in gnarled, claw-tipped fingers. His thin form seemed to be swallowed by the crimson robes that pooled around him and most of his face was concealed by a deep hood.

"W-Who are you?" The girl asked, mentally scolding herself for stuttering.

The elder smiled disarmingly, showing a few teeth past his thin lips, "Just an old man, tending to the gardens. I heard you shout so fiercely and wish to see the cause."

The tip of the stick wavered slightly, but did not fall completely. She knew there were yeomen in the royal forest, but she did not recognize this one.

"Suspicious as well." He commented with a chuckle. He slowly raised his hands, showing that they were empty. The sleeves of his robe slid down to reveal bare arms as well.

The girl narrowed her eyes, thinking for a long moment. He didn't seem all that threatening…and he wouldn't have been able to get into the forest without at least Mother knowing.

Even the Force said nothing either way.

And…maybe he would listen to her. Her brothers and Mother were all too busy to listen.

The girl quickly found herself seated beneath a different tree, rambling to the old man. She told him about her family, her brothers especially, and her day-to-day life. He didn't ignore her like Father did, instead nodding and offering suggestions sometimes.

But when she complained about Mother's avoidance of relying on the Force, his reply had chilled her to the bone.

"Your mother wishes you to balance your life between the physical world and the Force?" He had asked for clarification.

It took a few moments for her young mind to parse through the question before she hesitantly nodded.

"Then your mother is a wise woman."

She opened her mouth to reply but was stopped as he continued.

"My child, there are places, objects, and even people in this galaxy that may strip the Force from you, permanently or only temporarily." He stated calmly, as though such an answer was common knowledge.

"You are strong in the Force, there is no doubt. But if you rely only on the Force, you would be as helpless as a newborn babe before such things."

Suddenly, Mother's training had taken on a whole new light. Why had she not just said that instead of just saying "don't do that"?

Their conversation continued like this for some time, with her second-guessing what she had been taught and searching every lesson for hidden meanings. With each mystery that the old gardner untangled for her, the more she was coming to appreciate Mother.

Eventually, she noticed that the sun was beginning to dip over the horizon, causing her to realize just how long she had sat talking with the old man.

"Oh! I've got to get back to Mother!" She exclaimed, quickly leaping to her feet and dusting herself off. She turned and bowed to the elder as she had been taught was polite, "Thank you for talking with me!"

"It was my pleasure." The old man smiled warmly, before waving her off, "Now go. Young girls should not make their mothers worry needlessly."

The girl hesitated, realizing that she had never asked him his name.

"Call me Rag." He had chuckled, "It was a name bestowed on me when I was a very foolish young man."

"I'm Vaylin." The girl gave hers in response, "But I think you already knew that."

...

Yellow eyes, concealed within the hood, watched the girl leave, the smile never leaving their owner's face. Children, especially Force-strong children, were always a delight to speak with, especially the intelligent ones. One never quite knew what to expect.

Marka Ragnos' gaze drifted skywards towards the great tower that loomed overhead.

The mark the Dark Lord had once placed upon the young Sith, now seated far above, had bound itself to his flesh, his blood, and his soul. No matter what face he wore or how far he ran, Tenebrae would never be able to elude him for long.

"Once more, I find myself disappointed with you, Tenebrae. Like a broken toy, you discard the Empire you inherited, only to build another in a feeble attempt to surpass my craftsmanship."

He had seen the decadence of this…Eternal Empire and was not impressed. Its people lived lives of luxury, free from sickness and injury. There was no challenge to force them to grow.

All this would lead to would be stagnation.

Still, there were exceptions. Even if Tenebrae himself was less than impressive, those he surrounded himself with were proving to be, at the very least, interesting.

In the distance, he could still see Vaylin's gray and white dress.

"A pity you never learned to differentiate between "threat"…and "potential." I am not nearly so limited."

A strong breeze swept through the forest, rustling the leaves. When the girl looked back, all she saw was an empty clearing.

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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