Malfearak watched as Alaisy leaned forward. He was shocked to feel her give into the artifact’s embrace so readily, an eagerness he had no expected on full display. He wanted to reach out further in the Force to delve into her emotions and witnessed what it was she was feeling, but he did not dare do so. Resisting the artifact’s influence was enough for him. As his own mental defenses threatened to collapse, he slammed the lid shut with a wave of his hand.
They both gasped instinctively. Him out of relief, her out of… was it anger?
“What did you see?” he asked, his voice a rasp, his tone sharp with expectation.
There was a pang of rage as Malfaerak closed the box. She was transferred from the dark back to the bright, lifeless light. Before she could direct her vexation at the Kessurian, she looked down at her trembling claws. She could feel her heartbeat in her throat.
Going from curiosity, to fear, to anger, she took a deep breath and refocused all those emotions into a clear goal. Turning irrational trepidation into a tangible target.
“We need to find him. The Black Hand,” she modulated her voice with her helmet to hide the urgency.
“Wetlands, a great impenetrable mist, unmistakable coiling and warped trees. I was moving towards him, no, he was moving towards me… What did you see, Asvraal?”
Malfearak contemplated her words for a moment. There was a sense of familiarity as she mentioned the impregnable mist, the trees, the wetlands, and yet… it had not been so clear in his mind. Indeed, his own visions had been blurred, unfocused, abstract… There was only one word to describe what he had seen.
“Darkness,” he answered.
This only confirmed his suspicions. Whatever linked her to the Black Hand, Alaisy would be key to solving this enigma.
He leaned forward, tenting his fingers beneath his chin. “I do not understand it, not yet, but I feel you are connected to him somehow. We will find Cyris Oscura, someway… somehow. This artifact will guide us. Take it. Meditate on it. Seek the pathway forward. The resources of the Herald are yours.”
Elsewhere in the universe, a shadow stirred. Long it awaited this moment. At last, the time drew near.
It extended a long, skeletal arm, its twisted, jagged fingers outstretched like the branches of the dead trees above. A crunch reverberated from across the bog, shattering the years-old silence with the crumbling, crackling, grating of stone. Out of the rot, a lightsaber rose ancient and deformed, and floated to the shadow’s grip. Elongated fingers closed around the device and the shadow smiled. A sinister smile. Cruel. Festering.
The shadow may have been blind, its one remaining eye swallowed by the mist of time, it could yet sense the lingering essence and memories of dead beings emanating from the skeletons strewn around its roots. It did not need to see to know the bodies were all but invisible now, swallowed by moss and rot. They had come seeking the shadow, all of them. Human. Twi'lek. Rodian. Dowutin. All of them as she soon would…
Yet, the shadow knew her to be different.
She would understand. She would know. She would submit.
“You made the right choice to entrust me with this, Malfaerak. We will have answers, and perhaps so much more. If I do not respond at any time, please be patient, meditation can be intense.”
The journey ahead was rife with danger, doubt and fear functioned only as a compass. No pain, terror or desires could be avoided. There was no such thing as half-measures for the Sith. It was time to plunge into the black sea of oblivion.
‘Do not be thankful, do not be content, destroy your weakness and remake yourself.’
“Indeed, you saw it correctly, this is a passage to pure darkness. There is no planning or method, just the deepest desires of the soul to guide our path.”
“Then we will face this path together.”
Osasdii’s Scythe
“Captain Zaagnika, Mistress Aphotis is back on board, she requests your presence on the bridge.” The rookie crewmember seemed rather spooked as he spoke to Zag with a jittery voice.
“Ah, I liked being called Captain, even if it didn’t last for very long, oh well, here we go again, I hope she wasn’t too pissed off this time around, rookie.” The Zygerrian emptied the glove box and took her stowed stuff with her and put them in the various pouches on her uniform.
“Is the laboratory prepared? I will absolutely not accept any disruption once I begin my meditation. Do you understand, Zag?” The tall Sith’s voice seemed darker, deeper and more intense than Zag had heard in a long time.
Umangi bit her lip and inclined her head at Tir'eivra, instinct almost making her bow, but she froze up before she could, knowing that it might’ve come across as sarcastic or over-acted, “Of-course Alaisy, the only thing that might be of importance is any information that comes in from the Shroud Syndicate itself, otherwise you’re as isolated as it gets,” Zag wanted to give her a smile, but the cold aura and that darned black visor drained any will for that away like a thirsty and depressed bantha.
“Establish contact with Asvraal’s shuttle upon my return, and make sure the comms are encrypted. Be ready, if anything holds us back, we go right through them, do you understand? There is no room for error.” Aphotis kept her intense gaze set upon Zaagnika for some time, until she could feel her fear reflect back at her.
An improvised altar was set up for the Sith in the middle of the laboratory, with the entrance sealed shut. Only Zag could interrupt her now and she had no intention of facing her wrath should it be unimportant.
The dusk-yellow blade slashed through the air as Malfearak spun his ancient lightsaber in a figure eight-pattern. He trained in silence, his face without expression as if it had been chiseled from stone. He went through the motions guided by the Force, feet fleet beneath him, the hum of his blade his one steady companion. His thoughts were elsewhere,on the creature he had just entrusted with the single-most valuable artifact he had discovered in his long career.
Creature. It seemed unfair, perhaps even crude, to describe Alaisy in such derogatory terms yet… the more he spent time with her, the more inhuman she appeared to him. He could not help but wonder if perhaps he was making a mistake embarking on so momentous a journey with her. After all, one did not run with a pack of Vornskrr. One tamed them. She was as venomous as the fabled creatures and if he let her run free, he may yet fall prey to her.
He closed his eyes.
No. You’re letting doubt get the better of you… Alaisy may walk hand in hand with the darkness, she has not yet betrayed you. Trust in the Force. Trust in your teachings.
He did not know what to expect. What would they find if they did track down the Black Hand? There we many stories about Cyris Oscura… many of them contradictory. Yet, if the rumors were true, the ancient warlord would know a great deal. Perhaps he could be convinced to part with some of that knowledge.
If the man yet lived. The last time he was seen by a member of the Brotherhood, he had already been teetering on the very edge of madness. His own master, Kereban, had disappeared as he searched for him. Did the same fate await them?
Darkness.
It’s what he had witnessed upon viewing the artifact. Indeed, he knew it in his heart, this journey would lead into the darkest corners of the galaxy.