Foster dropped to one knee, panting from fatigue. His green lightsaber hissed and crackled as it scorched the stone floor of the ancient temple. His tattered and burned Jedi tunic and trousers hung loosely from his sweat-slicked body. Fresh lightsaber burns sizzled on his torso and legs, throbbing in blinding pain. He fought the impulse to retch for a moment before looking up at his opponent with teeth gritted in frustration.

Darth Sheol looked down on the fallen Jedi with cool confidence, playfully twirling his crimson lightsaber in his right hand. Shadows danced on his pale, smirking face in the temple's failing artificial light. Despite his youthful appearance, silver hair swept back down to the base of his neck. His black robes concealed his slender frame in darkness, barely visible in the dim light.

"That was a foolish move, following me here." The Darth said.

Foster cursed himself silently, agreeing with the Sith. In the heat of the battle he had acted rashly, with fiery determination to not let the dark lord escape. But now a massive obelisk had sealed him inside the temple, separating him from his comrades. The Jedi had hoped to ambush the group of Sith who set out to explore the temple the pair now stood in, and make short work of the formidable Darth Sheol. But they had underestimated the size of his escort, and were held back long enough to allow Sheol to retreat behind the impenetrable walls of the temple. Foster had dashed after him alone, barely slipping under the monolith that now trapped him inside. He now knew why the Council had dispatched a dozen Jedi for the mission.

Foster bit back the pain and stood, clasping his emerald blade in both hands, taking battle stance. He would die here, it was certain, but if he could prolong the battle, perhaps his allies would still have a chance at catching the Sith. He quickly re-assessed his surroundings; the pair stood in a spacious entrance hall. Flickering light strips encircled the hall along the high edges of the ceiling. Their soft light faintly illuminated the brown stonework that matched the desert world. A ring of balcony traced all along the walls of the room high above them. Several corridors led out of the hall at the back, but otherwise the room was open and flat.

Foster looked across at his smirking foe. The outcome of the impending conflict struck fear into him. Foster had only months previously graduated into the ranks of the Jedi. Were it not for his endless pleading to his uncle on the Jedi Council he never would have been selected for this mission, and even then he was only to be a support. But his opponent was a seasoned Sith Lord, skilled and mastered in ways Foster could not even imagine. The battle thus far had been play for the man, and so it would end.

Sheol's grin grew wider. "Though you lack experience in every sense of the word, your resolve in the face of death is admirable."

'Resolve' was not a word Foster would have used. Though he understood he would die and refused to do so kneeling, he nearly quaked from his despair. He sighed, there was no sense in listening to the man patronize him. He answered with silence, never breaking eye contact with his foe.

Foster lunged forward and hammered a two-handed sidestroke at the Sith with all his might. Sheol reacted instantly, never off-guard; twirling gracefully, he re-directed Foster's blade away with his own. The Jedi stumbled on his own momentum, but quickly turned and blocked the Sith's counter swing.

That counter was delayed! Foster thought. He could've split me in two if he wished;, he's toying with me!

Darth Sheol smiled in affirmation of Foster's thoughts, which he was obviously reading.

Humiliated, the young Jedi's assault took on new fury. His green lightsaber blurred as he laid into his smug foe with surprising speed. Darth Sheol never appeared pushed, deftly parrying each blow effortlessly. The pair moved all about the open floor, illuminating the room with flashes and sparks as their blades crashed together.

Foster appeared drunken in comparison to Sheol. The black-cloaked man twirled and spun, moving with fluidic grace from stroke to stroke. His crimson blade moved with perfect rhythm, humming a war song to which the Sith danced. Sweat flew from Foster's face as he spun. His muscles screamed in protest and his strokes grew sluggish. Sheol pressed him harder, expiring the last reserves of his strength. The Sith Lord deflected a sloppy down stroke and blasted the Jedi in the chest with an invisible fist of the Force. Foster reeled backward and crashed into the stone floor. His lightsaber flew from his hand and extinguished. The wind went out of him and he spent several moments trying to painfully fill his lungs.

Darth Sheol deactivated his lightsaber and approached the motionless Jedi. With a flick of his fingers, Foster's discarded weapon flew into the Sith's hand and quickly disappeared into his dark robes.

"You are a foolish, inexperienced, and clumsy little Padawan." Sheol said, standing over his foe. He let the words sink in before he continued. "Yet you are brave, determined and possess much potential to be great."

Foster attempted to groan a reply, but no audible sound left his lips.

"It's a pity such potential always goes to waste." Sheol said as he extended his hand. Blue-white lightning arced from his fingertips with a crackle and raged all about Foster's fatigued body. He convulsed violently on the floor in a silent scream of agony. The lightning danced all about him, searing his flesh and starting small fires on his garb. No thoughts crossed his mind as his consciousness was enveloped in a blanket of darkness.