Found Tenebrosity

[Dutch]

It was silent, and it had been silent for many a long moment. Solis stood behind Darth Keres’ private bar, a simple black robe wrapped neatly around his lithe form. He would appear thinner, if possible, with gaunt cheeks, sunken eyes and an aura which ebbed lazily about. His pale, dark veined hands would smoothly finish slicing the last Felucian lime, before the bright green and yellow wedges would be squeezed into a shaker. The Tythonian ginger he had previously cut would be added, as would a healthy pour of Kuati whiskey.

“... My once Jedi Master called it the ‘Cure All’” The zelosian said, finally breaking the icy silence between himself and the woman seated opposite to him at the bar. He turned a tired gaze, complete with dark bags under still searing red eyes her way, and he smiled almost sheepishly. The human woman looked exactly as he felt, the effect of Oricon as visible as it was felt in the Force about the Tenebrous.

“You had my curiosity, when Renata chose you for the Silver Pillar,” Solis continued as he retrieved a pair of tall glasses from underneath the bar. He followed by placing the cap and lifting the cool, frosty mixer a bit over his shoulder. With what energy he could muster, the Sith lazily shook their cocktail. Sshhk-sshhk-sshhk it sounded, and a single ice cube escaped to clatter wetly over the pristine floor of Darth Keres' chamber.

“After surviving what happened on Oricon, you now have my attention.”

[Harukei]

Every inch of her body protested in pain. She felt brittle, weak, like a crumbling page of an ancient tome on a forgotten library, ready to be swept away by the the most carefree of breezes if one were to struck her. Every single action brought discomfort, every movement as minimalist as it could possibly be, even the natural motion of breathing becoming a discomforting chore than a simple overlooked bodily function. Beneath the black silken robe that covered her, a myriad of bandages, kolto patches and even skin grafts resided, all healing, slowly. 

Keres had allowed her usually tied hair to fall loose to her shoulders, several locks curling over her forehead and eyebrows. Paleness had set on her and her vibrant red eyes shone a dull red, like the embers of a fire about to die in a brutal blizzard. She felt too tired, too burnt out by having her hand forced to even more than simply 'pushing boundaries'. And thus the darkside of the force remained in her, a fire that had grown low, but that would gradually return to its strength. But her eyes never lost their edge, they would never leave the man as he worked on a drink, but at the sight of his sheepish smile and the red fiery eyes she silently gulped. 

The Dark Lady of the Sith had always seen with disdain the use of fear as a fuel to the powers and passions of the Force. It was a weak emotion, one that she had felt once when she had gauged the eyes of her father and had managed to snap his neck, finally taking revenge. Hatred had been much more desirable. Hate of the weak, hate for the incompetent, hate for all those that had wronged in every possible tangible way had been the step stones upon which she had build herself and into which she had forged her ascension as a member of the Inner Sanctum. 

But the eyes of Solis' caused her a small reaction, a nigh imperceptible flinch that only restraint and her injuries could camouflage. Behind those fiery sanguine eyes she what lurked beneath. And that idea alone, of facing it again by herself and in her current state, brought a cold shiver of dread down her spine. Were she not so weak, she might as well behead the man and toss his toxic corpse to the closest supernova her fleet could find. But it was a fact that she could not, not now, and possibly not ever without being caught. 

"Cure it all?" Keres mused. Her voice a hoarse whisper that conveyed her state, hiding the anger she felt. 

It was anger at the deception, at the betrayal. And at the sheer stupidity that a peer had done. The Sith Lady mused for a second, going between slapping the glassware if he offered the glass at her to actually drink it, deciding to do the latter, for at least it would dull the ache she felt. 

"Had your master served you better by teaching you not to meddle in things you don't understand, we would be better off." 

Her reply came, swift and direct. But now she felt that both had been avoiding the bantha in the room. Her eyes were once more set on him, her hands making fists from hands. 

"And I have felt what your attention carries in my own flesh Solis. So spare my the ceremony and begin to explain. What was that?"

[Dutch]

”What was that...”

---

Both Darths stood on either side of the band of Imperials, Keres at the back of the chamber, her objective nearly at hand. Yet instead her silvery mask was turned to Solis, who had appeared hours after ditching the expedition. A powerful, oceanic presence in the Force flooded the chamber swiftly, heady and omnipresent. It filled and roiled across all empty space around the various sentients within, all weaker minds instantly brought to their knees in terror. Despite the inhospitable and volcanic conditions, the zelosian stood eerily still and in the path of any who might try to leave the expansive hall, his helm and rebreather mask missing to reveal that something was wrong. More than the usual taint of darkness, Darth Solis would appear physically ill and yet entirely nonplussed by it. The dark green veins normally seen at the Siths temples and neck had swelled to uncomfortable appearing proportions- as if they had suddenly taken on too much volume and now strained to contain it.

The slightest of green tint to his skin was tainted by the flow, giving the dermis a dead and ashen paleness, almost as rakghoul flesh. Solis’ inquisitive, keen gaze was gone, and instead now watched with eyes strained as wide as possible, near bulging from his gaunt features grotesquely. They didn’t appear to be in any actual pain, but closer to one straining to read too close to their face. Despite this, they focused with pinpoint accuracy into Keres’ own eyes- even with her mask obscuring them. His pupils were dilated completely into perfect black circles, and what remained of the iris’ were hair thin, irradiated rings as bright as the trickle of magma which suddenly breached and began to seep from a crack in the wall to Solis’ left.

Lips at first pressed into a small, barely perceptible line suddenly spread into a ghoulish smile, as if something stretched the sides of his face to mimic actual joy, but was a failed imitations. This expression held only infernal interest and deleterious intent. It sickeningly stretched Solis’ skin, laugh lines usually curved by a bemused grin now pinched and twisted.

It was not Darth Solis which now stared into Keres eyes and mind.

---

***

“Cure all” Darth Solis corrected as his eyes watched and read Keres. Her tone of voice and body language told him everything, and the Sith felt something close to pity for the woman. Not pity alone, that was only for her presence, her visibly weakened state. They were both bare and raw from Oricon still, and it showed upon them both in every way, but she was transparent. Ghostly. While Solis was entirely certain in his role in what was to come next, he sensed that this may have been the human’s first true brush with death. Her first ordeal within the Order. Her first meeting with the Void. Or at the very least a very traumatic event.

“And it works.” The zelosian added, his tone defusing and a touch apologetic. He waited a moment, and tilted his beverage as if to counsel her to drink it with a small raise of his brows. Solis let the silence sit as she took her first draft, and smiled softly before continuing.

“Had my master served me better, I'd still be Jedi, probably. Some diplomatic attache sipping martinis on Prazhi, instead of cure all’s on the Tenebrous among some of the most powerful beings in our galaxy.” Solis said with a half smile, his glass raised in a toast towards Keres before taking a long drink. It would be gulped audibly, thirstily in the hushed chamber, the silence suddenly cut by a glass which tumbled off an adjacent shelf to smash upon the floor next to Solis. All by itself. The zelosian jumped from the sudden sound, and laughed sheepishly as his presence warped unconsciously to where that glass had just been. A casual wave of his hand pulled the rogue bubble of his aura back into the fold, and his eyes looked to Keres before turning to the drink splashed over the hand which held it. He used the hem of his robe to begin drying himself, and regarded the human again.

“That’s why I needed to go to Oricon, sister mine. To find out.”

[Harukei]

“That’s why I needed to go to Oricon, sister mine. To find out.”

---

Blaster bolts flew through the scorching air striking against the walls, the ruined and crumbling statuary and the maddened imperial survivors from the first expedition. No. She thought to herself as her lightsaber cleaved a man in half that she had knew for years before the expedition. Not survivors, but possessed. Chips from the ruined rock flew as she danced around the brutish and crude attacks of a Sith Acolyte that had spent more time in the studying of the dark side than polishing his lightsaber skills before running her own sanguine blade through the flesh of his neck. As the acolyte's body fell to the ground as a rag doll without motion,  she would turn to observe her deathshroud, her personal guard battling more of the insane survivors until the very last all speaking the warning mantra that had been delivered through communications. All hailing Lord Erebus as if he was still walking among the living, all hailing to be Amarok, eager to gnaw the flesh from the bones of any victim. 

Nothing remained now of the warning. No songs were spoken about the Dark Lord of the Sith that chose to make this world his domain away from the politics of the shrineworlds of the ancient empire. And certainly no tidings of Amarok were left. But they had been real. They had found pockets of opposition the more they pushed into the temple, the more they discovered and cataloged, the deranged cultists, scientists and soldiers who had marked their suits with bloods and tokens from what little fauna could be found in such a place. Keres knelt besides one of the fallen and carefully removed the mask, finding a grey pallor like those of ancient crumbling bones, and a rictus grin that seemed nigh unnatural. Wide eyes locked in a psychotic frenzy and their flesh carved in a crude and cruel mimic to the markings that Erebus bore in life. 

Her sight through the frozen visage of her mask landed to the only remaining statue untouched by untold millennia and plunders. The Dark Lord proudly stood from black and greasy stone, smooth to the touch. A heavy plate adorned him over the flowing robes of midnight shadow, whilst his head was bore to the world. His scalp was shaven as facsimiles of the tattoos were laid in gold in the stone. The tattoos slowly descended from his scalp, to his brow, nose and finally the entirety of his head. His features were locked in a perpetual sneer of victory and contempt, as the eyes shone as bright jewels. Her hand rose and within the security of the mask she fell the pull of her prize. 

Another hand was risen, the stature began to shiver as if it would come to live and the soldiers and her bodyguards moved away before a thunder echoed in the chamber and cracks began to formed. Lines of black dust fell from the statue and chunks slid over the ruined marble floor before Darth Erebus finally fell down, colliding against the floor and shattering into hundred of pieces. Keres slowly walked around the debris, careful in her gait before finally sneaking her hand into the hollow section in the statue, retrieving an spherical device that was smooth and black, with thin golden lines running through it, engrave in such detail that she could read the phrases in balc. 

"We have attained for what we came."

She spoke before turning to the men and sith under her command, all eager to live this forsaken moon behind. 

"Your orders, milady?"

"Have our rearguard team contact the Tenebrous, I want evac in less than an hour. Upload all worthy information unto my personal station in the ship and have other recovery teams bring relics to the landing zone. I want to leave before we level the temple."

Keres said calmly, knowing that those under her command would do it to the letter. Her eyes scanning the Phobis Device so called the Eye of Night. 

"What about Lord Solis?"

The man asked, making her deviate from the relic unto him. 

"If he's not here by dust off, we'll leave him. He was foolish enough to lose himself in the temple, he ought to pay the price."

The Sith Lady bore no sentimentality to the loss of Solis. If anything it would be more of a benefit to climb the subtle ladder of power that the Inner Sanctum had. Who knew, there might even be a mourning service and a statue for the man in the midst of Kaas City for all to admire. Keres pocked the round-like jewel before she heard a soft clicking of boots on stone. The air itself felt heavier, oppressive as if the intense heat of the volcano that had served as the perfect location for Erebus' temple now had felt the warmth of the stone sucked away. 

She turned to watch and from the shadows she saw an apparition of a man. A skin so pale that could almost pass as translucent. Veins taking a color than the coldest depth of space. A grin that seemed even more grotesque than that of the men and women she had just fought and eyes that pierced through her and sent shivers down her spine. Solis? No. Even if he was using the dark side to sustain himself, the conditions of Oricon would have killed him. She was sure of that, her mind raced through the possibilities of perhaps an ancient Sith Spirit taking possession of the man. No, that's not it either. It feels off. 

"Lord Solis." 

One of the soldiers said, rushing through his bag to find a spare respirator as he moved towards the dark lord. 

"My Lord, please, take this it is unsa-"

His words were cut short, he stopped in mid sentence as his body froze. Another trooper came and it happened again. The echo of a laughter was heard as slow and methodical pained groans came from the men, their fingers and limbs twisted in unnatural angles as they were reduced and crushed and the continued sound of egg shells and vegetables cracking, snapping and popping filled the room. No, he is not Solis, he is not a Dark Lord either. Something else. She thought as she took a step back and as the sanguine blades of her silent deathsrouds came to life as the menace approached. 

---

Her eyes never left him, even as he gave a sheepish smile and a condescending look and explanation. Keres had to fight, had to fight an aching body as every movement send flashes of pain from scalp to feet. She had to fight the urge. The urge of behead him. The urge to having him experience every agony that now her own body protested to as she slowly healed. Every word he uttered, every action he did subtle as it could be was just fuel for the growing flames that had been birthed from the dying embers. But what made it so agonizingly difficult to ignore the urge, was the casual tone he took at the whole ordeal. Keres had hated that from him for the very moment they had met, doubly so after they had become 'siblings'. The Dark Lady took a slow and labored breath, closing her eyes to gather her thoughts before pinning the man with a renewed glare of volcanic fury.

"So tell me... Brother of mine."

Keres said, the last words dripping with poison as she felt the vitriol swell up inside her. 

"Why does the Empress, beloved by all, keeps you around?"

The questioned lingered for a moment before her voice resounded again, stronger, sterner with each syllable she spoke, the hoarse whisper faded like smoke did in the wind and the tone of a commanding and resolute being emerged. 

"Does she find you entertaining? Are your her toy to use as she pleases? Is that enough to compensate the sheer stupidity and bravado you seem so proud off."

Keres rose to her feet, her body trembling in pain that she fought and ignored as the furnace of power was lit once more and the discomfort became a distant numbness. She closed the gap between them, step by agonizing step intent to get the answers that she demanded. 

"Who is stupid enough to knowingly bring a spirit or lingering ghost to a dead Sith world teeming with hordes of souls in penance? No, no and no Solis, your answer will not suffice. I demand the truth or by the throne I will slay each and everyone one of your motherless bastards in my flagship."

Darth Keres stared at her 'brother' in anger stopping for a brief instance before speaking behind clenched teeth. 

"One last time. What. Have. You. Brought. On. My. Ship?"

[Dutch]

All through her dialogue and display, Solis’ smile never left his lips. Red eyes did drift to his quartet of lightsabers set in a line upon the bar, a gentle reminder should Keres be in a state to notice. The Sith finished drying his hands, the eerie silence of space travel filling the void following her rant as he turned his gaze to the wet glass. He proceeded to wipe off the outside, a steady polishing motion moving his long fingers carefully. With most of the beverage saved from startling himself, the zelosian regarded the still standing Keres’ with a renewed grin- almost as if noticing her again after forgetting she was there.

“I have to stop and remember, sometimes, that you are still relatively new to your station, Darth.” Solis started before he took a long draft from his drink, and shifted to rest his hip upon the bar. Now facing Keres better, he could see how she struggled to stand, and admired her courage to come at him so. He could probably sneeze and the paled woman would collapse, but his duty had always been to maintain her safety and capability. His free hand would gesture to the nearest seat, open palmed and nonthreatening.

“Please, you should be resting. If you genuinely do care to learn the deeper mysteries… you’ll need to.” Solis said, knowing she probably wouldn’t. So he would sigh, and tilt his head to continue looking at Keres with that look of gentle pity. “Foolish of me to say, I’m sure, Grand Prophetess. Of course you want to learn. That’s what brought so many of us to the Sith Order- to take control of our destinies, to chase our desires and eldritch secrets…” The zelosian's eyes would hold Keres’, another brief moment passing before his narrowed.

“You order me to divulge mine, and yet offer none in return.” Solis’ smile slid wider, more wicked, as he continued. “You are used to that, within your Cult. You speak, and your lesser prophets and knights bow.” The Darth would take another drink, this one longer, greedier as the alcohol gently warmed his core. It would be tilted back with his head as it was drained, the last remnants of ginger and lime played across his tongue as it rubbed the roof of his mouth, his eyes never looking from Keres. His glass would be set down with a gentle clink, and the Sith’s smile spread again.

“My Mistress sits upon the throne you bow before. The throne Aurelius and I helped build at her side, the throne which now governs the greatest Sith Empire this galaxy has ever known. You have benefited greatly from that throne. From us; your Empress, and your brothers.” Darth Solis leaned a touch closer to the human, eyebrows lifted and expression wrinkled with his wide grin.

“You reached the Inner Sanctum too late, sister mine. Unfortunate, for you that is. I do wonder what you also might have become, were you able to delve into Darth Iniquitous’ personal library before me.”

[Harukei]

He belittled her. That much Keres could ascertain as she allowed cold logic to arise from heated hatred. With a glance she would remind her of the lightsaber that he or whatever that had taken possession of his body had managed to inflict scored upon her flesh, the mere distant look upon the accursed hilts making the wounds covered in patches of synthetic flesh to sting, even under the kolto bandages and more. She felt now more control about herself and her emotions, enough to recognized the nuance of each movement, the grandiloquent speech that he wielded like the finest blade and the look of distant pity shining on those red eyes. Much of what he had said was true, she had benefited, she had murdered a master that saw her as a tool to dispose his enemies and a plaything when carnal desires came to serve under a Dark Lord in the search of relics and the pushing of boundaries, making the impossible quite a reality. 

However in the regard that he spoke in which he painted her like the rest of the Jedi taught Sith, she had been different. The compassion of the Light Side had never touched her psyche. And that itself made her an oddity among the Dark Lords of this era, as well her pragmatism that came with power. She knew that it was a sweet poison, a fire that seduced the minds of weaklings but that needed enough restraint so it would not consume the practitioner. However there was another thing that caught her attention, and that was the name he mentioned. Remaining calm as his face hovered so closely to hers that she could feel his breathing upon his skin and detect the scent of alcohol and ginger present on his drink. Her mind began to move through the list of Dark Lords she had learned and memorized and even as there were gaps in her still tired mind, she came to a conclusion that a Darth Iniquitous was among Sith she knew, but something told her that such a name was a secret that she had not earned the right to know about.

Thinking quickly, she feigned a retreated and lowered her eyes in sign of respect to her 'elder sibling'. Her hand dove towards one of the bottles whilst the other retrieved a wine glass. With effort she opened the bottle, forcibly retrieving the cork before pouring the dark red liquid unto the bowl until it was half way full. Delicately wrapping her fingers around the esteem she bring the rim of the glassware to touch her dried lips and wash down a sip of the Alderaanian vintage down her throat. She felt a warm from her core before she would speak to Solis again, deciding to humor on her own secret, changing the subject abruptly as she weaved her plan. 

"Did you knew that I hail from Dantooine?"

Keres said as she looked at the void of stars and the small flotilla of ships that her flagship commanded. She gave a side glance to see if he was interested at all in her little tale. 

"I was born the daughter of a mercenary and a farmer. We barely did make ends meet even if our mother broke her back to make sure me and my sister were well fed." She bitterly chuckled before taking another sip, feeling the alcohol dulling the pain that coursed through her. "And my father he was rarely at home, he came back with the odor of sweat and death and alcohol clanging to him like a disease before he went on to beat my mother. I can't tell you the pleasure I felt when I gouged his eyes with my fingers and snapped his neck on the view of his friends."

She said before taking another sip. 

"But I do thank him for the only significant lesson he gave me as a parent. For you see, one time he caught me stealing some of his rations for his line of work. My sister was starving and as a good elder sibling I sought to protect her. He punched me in the stomach and chained me to a moisture vaporator for the night to learn my lesson." Keres turned to see her, giving a wry smile at the man. "But you see, its the words he told me that 'he had his hand on the handle of the pan and I should do as he said.'"

Another sip would be taken as she allowed the silence to reign between the two as she finally turned to him, leaving the wine glass over the counter with the same soft clink of his. The crimson of her eyes stared at his. 

"Now you may think what would such a peasant phrase would serve in? Well you see, I believe words are an inexhaustible source of power. They can do and undo Empires faster than a blaster bolt can. I pride myself in my pragmatism as well."

Her finger traveled a console that protruded from the bar and on it she pressed an indistinguishable white button. In a second the room dimmed in light and over the table that was set before the couch, a hologram flickered to existence. For a second she was reminded of the horror at that wide, unnatural grin and the deep bottomless eyes of the void that looked back at her. He saw as how the monster had possessed the man and the whirling death that were the lightsabers flew slaying members of the guard and the troopers that had come with her. 

"Now brother of mine it would certainly be a shame that such image, along with the rest of the feed was mysteriously uploaded to the HoloNet, wouldn't you agree? Imagine what it would do for the morale of the troops that an honored member of the Inner Sanctum lashed out against troops and fellow Sith? Imagine the blow the image of the Empress would suffer if it was revealed that member was so..." She paused for a second as she tried to read his expression under the pretense of searching for the correct word. "...Unstable?"

She refilled her glass again with the dark red liquid, bringing the rim to her lips as she tasted the delicate taste of the wine. 

"So my dear brother. Now that I have taken the pan by the handle. Could you kindly share what lurks beneath your mind?" She said calmly and smiled. 

[Dutch]

Solis stepped around his sister in darkness as she spoke, the hologram instantly drawing the Sith’s red eyes. It was indeed him, that much was obvious by his attire and the quartet of buzzing lightsabers. The zelosian watched as his possessed self flipped and dodged and weaved, sickeningly silent as he butchered everything around him so easily. Even when a squad of Deathshrouds worked in concert clearly with battle meditation; four working to pin each of Solis’ seeming automatic lightsabers, and two more moved in with theirs for the kill.

The Darth standing before the hologram would lift his hands to his lips, and sink to sit upon Kere’s couch as the one within the hologram suddenly seemed to dislocate his jaw with a rabid shake of his head, and an unnatural howl shrieked high to a malevolent crescendo. Two of the Deathshrouds pinning lightsabers fell to their knees screaming in unintelligible, irrational, anguished fear, and were suddenly beheaded by their charges. Another also shrieked as blood began to pour from her armor at the gut, the metal literally curling into her flesh, soon cutting off the fingers attempting to stop it. The fourth merely stood quietly, gripped his head in both hands, and forced it to spin unnaturally until he snapped his own neck.

All four lightsabers whipped to slice into the fifth shroud at once, the pieces of their body tumbling as the sixth was seized in mid-air, their life energies pouring through the Force into the possessed Darth’s greedy, preternaturally stretched maw. All of this within a moment, the wanton slaughter as natural to the being as breathing was to them. The jaw snapped and clicked back into place as he healed by drinking death, and that horrible grin returned and turned back to Keres. Turned towards them as they watched the holo play. Solis, still sat at the couch but leaning close to look directly back into his own taken eyes within the holo, raised his hand to call the bottle of wine Keres had opened to it with the Force. He sat back with his free hand in his lap, and the other brought the bottle to his thirsty lips. Solis drank deeply, then guided the bottle back to her.

“I’m sure Renata would love to add this to her collection, dear sister.” Solis said with a soft smile and a look towards Keres, his tone and simple statement making the point alone. “You’re not the first to take my admittedly… grandiose and capricious mannerisms as malcontent, but you mistake me, and I you. Oricon was the first time that has happened.” The zelosian gestured with a hand towards the paused holo of his twisted visage.

“Before, it had only been whispers... visions, nightmares. Then time loss, known faces seeming strange… and now possession.” Solis listed some, but not all of what the Void had shown so far.

“You see, when we first seized the Order… there were few our Empress trusted. We all had our tasks, our duties, and none knew the inner workings of each other’s plan- as far as I’ve known. Renata locked down the throne, naturally, and Aurelius rallied the Order under her name and assured their loyalty. That left the Aristocracy, and the relics, and that’s where I came in.”

“Her Coalescent Bridge...” The Sith continued as he hissed the title earned, and placed both hands upon knees to stand languidly. He walked slowly towards Keres, and pulled a glass to his hand before pouring wine into it. Solis drank of his glass, and gestured with it after towards the black iron hilt of his golden lightsaber.

“The Aristocrats were the easy part, they have wealth, but bend the knee before true power so quick. True power gained through broken trust, and possibly love, if both weren’t so broken already. Back then I was sleeping with the bosses’ daughter- so to speak, and used her to gain access to his vault while Renata’s plan began. Betrayed her for his relics, for his knowledge, his spy network to deliver to my Mistress.”

“I went in alone, found a holocron with that as an edge, and in it the secret to wielding lightsabers through thought and emotion. There was a test. I failed it, or maybe passed. I don’t remember, but I didn’t leave the vault alone either way. So yes, Renata already knows. She knows and controls everything now."

“...You see, Keres, I’m not making threats. Before you, there simply were none we considered capable of trusting with fixing it, if possible. She made it clear this was my burden until then. Until now?”

[Harukei]

Keres stood in silence as death surrounded her. Behind the mask he usually stoic expression became blank as she watched the slaughter unfold. Each murder was a crashing tidal wave unto her, from the troopers that had survived through the ordeal of the expedition to the members of her deathshroud guard that had come with her. Each death echoed through the force as life was violently ended with a casual ease of a hot butter slicing through nerf butter. Eons seemed to pass as the armor of one of her deathshrouds was crushed and blood gushed through the carapace, the sound of a snapping neck remained as the body of the last of her guards slumped, hands still about his head, falling limp like a rag-doll as the body fell powerlessly to its knees. 

Whatever strength there had been in her grip, the Sith Lady had lost it. A tingling sensation took hold of her hands until she recovered a semblance of her composure. But even then, the grip felt hollow and and a sensation she had not felt for more than a decade began to crawl down her spine. Within the seals of her armor she felt how her skin became permeated with cold sweat as she stood her ground, her eyes still in wide in disbelief as her mind continued to make sense of what she had seen transpire before her, and of the monster that now wore the flesh of a man as clothing. 

Fear had spread into her like a malaise that spread, infecting every fiber of her being. Her mind beckoning her body to move once the thread had been accessed and quantified, her body remained in lock down as the more primitive parts of her mind could not cope with the act of savagery. Will you let it end here? A chorus of voices echoed in her mind, she didn't recognize any of them or wasn't even sure if it was just a single voice. After all this sacrifice? All you have slain little one? Let me help. The chorus spoke one more time and fell silent. 

Darth Keres felt the flames inside her fanned, fear had given way to anger as she glared at the creature that had befallen her subordinates. Her hands gripped the lightsaber harder and even the frozen plasma that made the sanguine blade shone with greater ferocity. A war cry emerged from her, a declaration at the creature as she advanced, ignoring the broken bodies, the gore and blood that had spread over the ruined and soot saturated floor. Her right hand made a fist, and she pulled forward, the broken shards of onyx that had made the statue of Darth Erebus flew at the creature, the plinth unto which it stood followed suit. 

The buzzing of the flight lightsabers caught her attention, her eyes looking for the multicolored streaks as the moved to nigh impossible speed. She ducked and weaved, feeling the searing pain of the blade as graced her shoulder path, melting away the durasteel pauldron and body suit. Keres gritted her teeth, taking in the pain from the wound as she rolled over the floor before she gathered herself and drank into nexus of power that had impregnated the walls, the ceilings and even the world itself. She extended her arms and a wave of force was released unto the chamber. The floor cracked as ripples in energies expanded. The walls cracked, the ceiling rumbles and the debris flew away, the blast buffeting away the quadruple threat of the flying energy blades. 

Her hand reached towards one of the fallen lightsaber pikes as the dust around her settled, fury coursing through her as she stood with her newfound saberstaff and her activated lightsaber. She stood among the debris, the challenge issued. 

---

Darth Keres felt silent as she heard her 'brother's' words. Her face retaining the stoic mask of before, as she ran through all the details and even the things that Solis might have omitted. All to finally shook her head before taking another drink of the wine. It was a story that she had heard far too many times. A sin that seemed to pursuit the Sith again and again and perhaps their greatest weakness. One that had been unwittingly carried away with the rebirth of the Order from the ranks of the Jedi. It was a condition, a festering cancer at the very heart of the order that had been neglected, allowing it to metastasize until it became a problem. 

"I was never a Jedi." Keres spoke, the brittle tone returning to her voice as her eyes rested in the star-freckled void. "My master, the one that rescued me after I had murdered my father had been, but at the very least he made sure to not grant me the sickness that plagues most of the members of our order."

The Sith Lady allowed silence to settled as the hologram of the fierce skirmish continued to play next to Lord Solis. Her eyes rested upon her glass of wine, her index finger dancing along the rim as she waged her words carefully. 

"The taint of the Jedi follows you brother." She turned to see him, to observe him and his reactions. "You may not know it but all that they deny you has conditioned. You want more, you crave for more. Power became a narcotic when your chains were broken, until it didn't. And you sought something far grandeur. And as you grew bloated, you didn't care for the consequences."

Her voice turned serious, not try to belittling her elder sibling, but simply imparting her knowledge. Her beliefs and philosophies that she made sure spread through the cult she headed. 

"The Dark Side of the Force is a pathways to abilities that some may consider unnatural. The idea that such power wouldn't come without toll is childish. You didn't stop to consider the dangers? You only saw opportunity, a chance and I'm afraid it might be too later for you."

A tinge of sadness impregnated her words. She understood the hunger, the need to expand her knowledge and her powers. But she also understood the reality of the Sith, of all Darksiders in general. All who dwell in the Darkside were at the end bound to serve its will, to honor it and at the end return to it. In turn strengthening it as the natural cycle of life and death carried on. Her mind dwelt briefly unto the words that he had said and wondered if he truly had sought for someone with the required knowledge to cure him of his affliction. 

"I truly wish I could help you, but without not knowing what we face, I'm afraid it is only a matter of time."