Star Wars: Slave Of Darkness

"Concentrate. The Force responds your will and your passions," XoXaan stated, "Your anger will give you strength and focus, but that same power will also react to your fears. If you fear your own power, it will lash out at you."

"I am not afraid," Olia bit back harshly, if a bit quickly.

'Or at least, not of herself,' XoXaan mentally corrected. Her student was a proud and vain thing, so easily provoked with poorly hidden barbs and criticism. It was something that would need to be trained out of her, but for now it was a useful tool.

The fallen Jedi was kneeling on the floor of the tomb, her eyes closed as she manipulated the raw energies of the Force to weave a spell of creation. To an untrained eye, it appeared as though she was having no problems.

However, XoXaan was far from untrained and could see the signs.

The slight trembling of her hands as she manipulated the spell. The struggle to push the energy to do as she wished…and as it pushed back against her. She was only holding on by the thinnest of margins.

While many Sith delved into the darkest of arts, few ever had a true affinity for Sorcery. The Force itself rebelled against the mere act of casting a spell as it perverted and warped existence to suit the caster's desires.

To be a Sorcerer worthy of the name required either an individual with a natural talent for it or a being with truly exceptional will to coerce the Force to obey them without consequence.

The spectral woman was not so proud as to claim to be one of the former. Her own mastery of the art had come from decades of study and raw determination, though at the cost of skill in more martial pursuits. Even still, she had been surpassed in her own lifetime by those who possessed both the talent and the will.

Olia, despite her aptitude for the Force and her near-rabid desire for strength, would likely never gain more than a base proficiency with a handful of rituals. As XoXaan herself had done, she could possibly surpass that limit through training, but she doubted the fallen Jedi would put in the effort required when it had borne little fruit so far.

Her upbringing among the Order was but another hurdle in her path as it had pressed into her a hesitance to truly bend the Force to her will.

As the ancient Dark Jedi's incorporeal form watched over her would-be apprentice, she could not help but feel a spark of disappointment that this particular lesson would not take in the way she had hoped. Still, the girl was an apt student and XoXaan had much to teach.

Knowing the theories behind the rituals was just as useful as being able to perform them.

Olia's expression showed a tiny hint of uncertainty before suddenly hardening into one of focus, her eyebrows furrowing. Where before there was instability, now there was certainty. And then, it all clicked into place.

As the spell ended, bits of metal and stone taken from the tomb were carefully molded into a simple and crude torc. It was an ugly, twisted thing, made by one who knew nothing of metalworking. The fallen Jedi's face scrunched up in disgust at what she had wrought, so far from what she had expected it to be.

XoXaan allowed a small amused smirk to grace her face at her student's indignity to hide her curiosity at the sudden change.

Before Olia could make to throw it away, her teacher stopped her with a raised hand, "Do not be so hasty, dear girl. Observe your creation and look beyond its superficial appearance. Surely you are not so vain as to discard something simply because its appearance displeases you?"

Olia paused, regarding the ghost with suspicion before reluctantly doing as she was told. Holding it with her fingertips, she carefully turned it over in her hands. The cables of tarnished metal that made up the torc gleamed dully in the light from her glowrod, between which molten rock had been used as mortar to bind the individual strands together into one piece.

It was a hideous thing that any Core World socialite would have turned their nose up at, if not sue the maker for the crime of creating it.

XoXaan's smirk grew into a smile as she watched Olia forcibly push aside all thoughts of its ugliness and looked deeper. Her student's creation was a small, unassuming thing, yet it was also so much more.

During her lifetime, she had claimed the Yoke of Seeming for herself, an artifact of great power that predated the Dark Jedi by centuries. When used, the Yoke would cause the Living Force to flow around the bearer, masking both their presences and their intentions as well as allowing them to take on any shape they pleased.

However, using it caused the artifact to burn into the flesh of the one wearing it, leaving them in near-perpetual agony.

While XoXaan had possessed the skill to completely recreate the device, she had instead chosen to forge lesser variants. They had not been as potent as the original, but they lacked its inconvenient drawback.

The torc in Olia's hands was similar, though it was lesser even compared to her copies.

Her student soon saw what she was supposed to and cautiously placed the ugly piece of jewelry around her neck. Instantly, her presence in the Force shrank, nearly disappearing in the overwhelming darkness of the tomb. However, the hiss of pain that escaped from her lips told the spirit that it had not come without a price.

When it was pulled off, a ring of lightly burned skin circled her neck.

It was an imperfect copy of a device that was itself flawed, but the fact that it existed at all caused XoXaan to briefly re-evaluate her opinion of the girl.

As Olia busied herself with dealing with the pain, the ghost observed her quietly. Barely a minute before, she had been struggling with the ritual, only to suddenly gain the focus and drive needed to succeed.

XoXaan was curious as to what brought about this change, if only so that she might use it to drive her to even greater heights.

Without giving even a hint as to what she was doing, the Dark Jedi wormed into her student's mind. While Olia had impressive mental shields…for a Padawan, the Marchioness of the Black Legion had surpassed such long, long ago.

As such, she slipped around them with barely any effort and without the former Jedi any the wiser.

She didn't intend to stay long or else around Olia's suspicions, though she did not need to have been concerned as what she was looking for was easily found.

It was a simple thing, the figure of a human dressed in black robes and armor with his face hidden by a deep hood. The gleam of web-like cybernetics outlined the right side of his face while the glow of eyes afflicted by the corruption of the Dark Side stared out unblinkingly from the shadows.

His pale gaunt skin was pulled tight by the machinery bound to what was left of half his face, his mouth set into a thin line.

It was not an expression of superiority, but one of indifference.

XoXaan gently prodded it to the front of Olia's mind and observed the reaction that it sparked.

Fury, terror, jealously, confusion, uncertainty. Her emotions went wild at the mere thought of this person, all of which coalesced with lightning speed into a need to surpass this being.

But there was a tiny spark of doubt, buried deep.

Quickly, she flicked through her student's memories of the man to find the source.

Her first impression was that he was a quiet sort, usually followed by a lumbering creature she did not recognize. Apparently, this man was also something of a bookworm as much of his time was spent among the scrolls and shelves of the archives. Then she saw the marks and realized he was a slave.

To Olia, he was a plaything to be toyed with for her own amusement before being crushed. Or rather, he had been.

Then came the wound, the one that required cybernetics. Even beneath the machinery and false flesh, XoXaan could see the hallmarks of a lightsaber wound.

Olia's mind helpfully provided names for this man.

Slave. Aldrex.

Spider.

At first, it had just been a name said in jest to assuage her uncertainty.

She heard the rumors that he had bested a Sith Lord while just a mere acolyte. Then the memory of the training hall came, when droid after droid was dragged out, followed by him. He was unscathed, though unconscious from the effort.

Olia had seen just how potent his venom was becoming and how far his web had spread.

And suddenly, it was no longer a jest.

With a smile, XoXaan pulled back from Olia's mind and returned to the material world. The girl was exactly where she had been left, still examining the torc. After all, she had only been gone for but a split second.

And now, she had her answer. And it was a jarringly familiar one.

"Tell me, girl," XoXaan started, catching Olia's attention, "Do you know who the most dangerous of our number was?"

To the fallen Jedi, the question seemed to come from nowhere, leaving her to blink in confusion for a moment before answering slowly, a hint of suspicion in her voice, "Your leader? Ajunta Pall?"

XoXaan's smile widened, "A plausible answer, but not the correct one. Ajunta was the most powerful of us, this is true. His strength was unrivaled, both as a General and as a Jedi. But he was not the most dangerous of the Exiles."

Olia did not have an answer to that immediately. The spirit allowed the silence to continue, allowing her time to ponder it. As it dragged on, it was clear that the girl had not studied to lore of the Hundred Year Darkness as anything more than a cautionary tale told by her elders.

"Karness Muur?" She tried again hesitantly.

Shaking her head silently, XoXaan was not offended that she herself was not the girl's first or even second guess. After all, she knew the correct answer.

Instead, her smile took on a cruel edge as she laughed, "Again, a plausible guess…but no."

"Well then tell me, damn it!" Olia demanded, "And stop wasting my time with riddles!"

"Calm yourself, child. I will tell you," The ghost chided patronizingly. She truly was enjoying this too much, "The most dangerous of the Exiles was Sorzus Syn."

"I assume this is leading into you telling me why," Olia shot back.

Her answer was that same smile. Drawing on the Force, XoXaan wove it into an illusion and laid it upon the world. Once more, the robed figure of Sorzus Syn darkened existence, her hood drawn up to conceal her patchy, wild hair.

In truth, she had more often than not gone out with her head bare, but XoXaan intentionally manipulated the image to make it resemble a certain someone. Her expression was even set in the exact same manner.

As Olia's eyes fell on the long dead woman's pale, gaunt features, her face tightened as a brief chill of fear shot through her, which quickly became anger.

"It was quite simple to overlook dear Sorzus, as you can see. To her, the entire galaxy might as well have been contained within her laboratory. If not reminded, she might have forgotten the rest of the world existed in the first place," XoXaan's smile and voice took on a nostalgic tone.

"Even during the war, she buried herself in her work, creating new monsters to deploy against the Jedi, not caring one whit about the conflict itself. She was a researcher at heart."

XoXaan paused, her smile dimming before she continued, "Of course, then we turned our backs to her to concentrate on each other, failing to realize that she was no longer the mousy little scholar we had known as children."

"She had plans of her own," Olia remarked, watching her teacher warily.

"Of course she did. And we were more the fools for forgetting it," XoXaan replied, a hint of bitterness in her speech, "There were twelve of us remaining when we were exiled at Corbos and when we conquered the Sith.

Two fell to infighting in the first years, executed by Ajunta as dissidents. The rest were killed by Sorzus Syn almost a decade later."

"How did it happen?"

"Very slowly. Her corruption had made her cold, ruthless, and above all…patient." The ghost explained, "Each of us desired to rule over the others, while not being ruled by any but ourselves. The pieces were already there to be used. Sorzus merely needed to nudge them into place."

She turned to look back at her own sarcophagus.

"It started with Muur and Dreypa," She started again after a moment.

"To each, she gifted an amulet of great power, forged with the magics of the Sith. Muur's would allow him to spread his plague on an unimaginable scale, while Dreypa's granted him control of the mighty Leviathans Sorzus had crafted during our war with the Jedi."

The image shifted to show the Dark Lords at the height of their power.

The leering grin of Muur as he stood with his abominations. The Sephi was a skeletal shadow of the man he had once been and was just as twisted as the monsters he created. The sadistic expression on his face was but one indication of the madness that dwelled beneath.

The seething hatred of Dreypa as he looked over fleet arrayed before him. Arrogance rolled off him in waves from the still image. Unlike the other Dark Jedi, his war had never ended. He had never been satisfied with the conquest of a single system and chafed under the contentment of the others.

"To each, they were mighty temptations," XoXaan elaborated, "Muur thrived off the fear of others, their agony as their bodies transformed into his hideous rakghoul mutants. Meanwhile, Dreypa desired to restart the war with the Jedi."

She chuckled mirthlessly.

"Of course, each was a trap. As soon as he put the talisman around his neck, Muur was killed and his soul imprisoned within his own weapon, as it had been designed to do from the beginning.

While Dreypa was able to slip from Sorzus' noose, he and his followers left Korriban for the stars, never to be seen again. Despite his survival, the result was the same."

Olia was sharp when she was focused on something and after seeing the image of Syn, the girl was very focused. She had realized where the impromptu lesson was going before the spirit had finished her sentence.

She had seen war, lead soldiers into battle. She had played the political games with her former Master.

The fallen Jedi grasped the implications almost immediately, "Depriving you of your strongest allies."

XoXaan nodded in confirmation, "Dreypa and Muur utterly despised each other and went so far as to plan countermeasures against each other, but their powers were matched and they could work together if pushed.

And in turn, they were deterrents against the others, all weaker but no less ambitious. With the Plaguemaster and the Lord Admiral gone, their eyes turned to the throne."

"For all Ajunta's strength, for all his passion, he alone could only stalemate the combined might of the other five. Their battle shook the foundations of the valley, ending in mutual defeat as his fortress crumbled down on them all."

"Ajunta Pall's fortress…became his tomb," Olia muttered, remembering the shattered battlements of the ancient structure. She had once been curious about its placement in the valley, but now she knew the reason.

XoXaan inclined her head silently.

"But you said the remaining five, not six." Olia pointed out, "What happened to you? How did you die?"

"In my sleep of old age," The phantom briefly enjoyed the surprised expression on her student's face before continuing.

"But make no mistake, I did not survive by chance or my own machinations. And never again did I wield the same level of power.

Sorzus left me alive, though the reason eludes me even now. Did she wish for a peer to gloat to of her victory? A trophy to remind herself of conquests past? Or was it a twisted gift in remembrance of the friendship we had once shared as Jedi?" She shook her head gently.

"She was not inclined to inform me, nor could I guess as to her motives. The mind of Sorzus Syn had become an alien, unknowable thing with her corruption."

XoXaan turned to face Olia completely, floating forward and gently cupping her student's face with a spectral, talon-tipped hand.

"Remember this: This man, this Spider that haunts your waking dreams, drives you forward with such fervor," Olia's eyes widened in fury as she spoke, but XoXaan pushed on, "You fear him for good reason."

The girl's expression hardened with rage and incredulity, "Wha-How do you-?"

XoXaan ignored her impotent anger and bulled forward, "In mindset and action, he resembles dear Sorzus so much it nearly hurts. And that is exactly why you should beware. Unlike Sorzus and myself, he was never your friend. Never your ally. No bonds of sentiment will stay his wrath."

As she turned to return to the depths of her holocron, the ancient Dark Jedi left her student with something to ponder and stoke her fury into an inferno.

"Should he surpass you, he will not show you the same twisted mercy that I was."

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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.

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