Darkness, Darkness was the main event of this day and the Master of Hate was assured that the youth before him had been prepared exactly as he had been promised, a practitioner of Sith Sorcery nearby finishing up the Ritual that would allow the lingering spirit of the Dark Lord of the Sith to walk the Universe again. Then again, he had to give the Sorcerer a level of respect that was well earned in the eyes of this ancient Sith Lord, to actually reconstruct such a young body but with the exact genetic specifications that he had held while alive and the exact Midi-chlorian count required for it to be a… acceptable Host body was no easy task.
Then again should the great Tulak Hord – Lord of Hate, the Master of the Gathering Darkness, Dark Lord of the Sith – care about the worthiness of a simple Slave, bound to his will, forced to serve even his lowest of whims?
An interesting philosophical question, a question that had been on his mind throughout these thousands of years as he fed on the innocent and having lost near all his potential in the Force because he allowed his slave – his Sith Apprentice – to literally stab him in the back, a mistake on his part and one that he inspired not ever to repeat ever again. If he were to take any apprentice or ally, he would keep them on a tight leash until their usefulness was expired, once he had gained an actually living body… that is. But one Slave never did betray him now that he thought about it, a honor-bound Dashade – Khem Val, they had grown into friendship and the fact that Dashade honored their pledges of servitude allowed Tulak to drop his guard around the monster.
"It is done, my Lord." bowed the Sorcerer, as he stepped back from the Altar, his very stance radiating subservience.
Wasting no time the disembodied Sith spirit dove into the young body that had been custom prepared for him and raised up gasping for the life gases that he had been denied for so long, to have the power to direct the Force in any vicious way he wanted was a gift upon Hord as he reached out with the Force and snuffed out the life of a weak and unbroken Force sensitive kept prisoner in this private Retreat, the private Retreat on Rhen Var of one Hego Damask who had become less widely known as Darth Plagueis the… not so Wise. Did he not fall for the same mistake, and give his apprentice such loose shackles, as Hord had done so and yet even after the repeating cycle of this mistake not learn this obvious lesson? Then you see the lack of wisdom.
"As pertaining the Sith, and giving that I have been brought back into an updated naming system, I believe that it is courteous for me to take upon a new name and the title of Darth. Is that so?" asked Hord, his glare all but melting the face of his Sorcerer companion.
"It is so, my Lord, I know that it is… unfamiliar to you, but…" started the Sorcerer, however Hord's raised hand silenced him.
"There is no issue. Henceforth I shall take the name, Darth… Stygius," announced Hord, now set in his new name and role. "Kneel."
The Sorcerer did so and Hord, now Stygius, stared down at the head of the man before him and smirked darkly. This man had been a philosopher of the Sith ways for so long and yet he had never taken a rank to himself, never announced his intentions in the Force and had remained somewhat loyal to the Spectre that had haunted these halls while he had researched deep into Sith Sorcery, Stygius considered this heavily and came to the decision that he should reward the fool – Regan Seshel – for everything he had done up to this point.
"It is a rare event when a member of our rank becomes a Lord among Sith – probably more so in the old days when we ruled over the Pureblood Sith, this is one of those rare honors. Rise Regan Seshel, Lord of the Sith!" commanded Stygius, and knighted the Sorcerer.
"Thank you, Master." nodded Regan, standing when Stygius motioned to.
"Go forth and tend to the other Acolytes, in a few hours bring me reports about our situation and current Galactic affairs, I will then decide on a course of action then." instructed Stygius, and with a bow, Regan left his Master to begin his thoughts.
Ben Skywalker found himself in an odd place, not quite a dream but not a vision either, an outer body experience. He found himself totally bare in a white environment and a throne sitting on a raised platform at the back, this magnificent white hall was spherical in shape and Ben only just realized that it rippled as though it were a bubble in water, but standing head of him equally bare and observing the throne was a youth approximately his age – a mane of black hair that seemed to have an odd blue tint to it from the odd light generated by this room and a broad back.
"Who are you?" asked Ben, his voice seemed to echo in this empty room.
The young man briefly turned to face him and pale sea blue eyes stared at him under his hooded locks and simply gestured to approach as he turned back to look at the throne, judging it and considering its purpose in the grand scheme of Galactic affairs, as Ben approached while curious at the rippling effect every step his feet took immediate interest in the familiarity he had with the throne and then immediately noticed that the it was the Throne of Balance.
"Yes, it is that very same throne," announced the young man, his well-disguised but powerful muscles flexing under his skin, with every breath he took. "To sit upon that throne, two things will happen, you will rule the Galaxy with the power of the Force or… you will become a Slave to the Will of the Force."
"My cousin is destined for that throne…" started Ben and the stranger made a dismissive gesture.
"A Slave indeed, only one who wields the calmness of light in the mind but dominates the power of Darkness can sit on that Throne a Master of the Force and their destiny, to sit on the Throne of Balance one must be at Balance with themselves and the Force." announced the Stranger, who smirked when Ben tensed up.
"And I asked you who you are?" questioned Ben insistently, the Stranger smirked, motioning with Telekinesis until words appeared on the wall of the bubble room: Dhor Kutla.
"This very room exists within the Force," announced Dhor as he trailed around Ben, pacing calmly, looking up and down as he analyzed everything of Ben Skywalker's nude body with total interest. "It takes someone a lot of concentration to reach this plane of existence, deep meditation and practice, the only person other than yourself to reach this realm in their dreams would be… well, me."
"So, we're both dreaming?" asked Ben, and shuddered slightly, as Dhor trailed a finger down the indenture between the muscles of Ben's back right on the skin over Ben's spine.
"I have mastered the art of meditation, and currently I use it to reach this place, but you are here as bare as I am but not of your own accord. Never, do usual come here – not a Jedi, or a Skywalker and not a Sith. You and I are here for a reason," explained Dhor, before coming to a stop behind Ben. "It may have something to do with the Sith, no matter; we shall meet soon enough and discuss what will need to be done."
The room suddenly flexed as ripples appeared in the walls and floor causing Dhor to raise an eyebrow in humor, currently unaffected by the changes as Ben was and then he realized that he was waking up while Dhor was still mentally projecting himself into this space, Ben felt the entire room fall away from him as the conscious world returned to him and the last think he saw was the smirk on Dhor's face as he too faded from sight.
Dhor Kutla sat calmly as his custom black YT-1930 transport flew on Auto-pilot down into the unnamed planet in the Maw with an annoyed sigh, it seemed that the Jedi and the Sith were already seeking her out even before he had arrived in the Maw and this caused Dhor to growl lightly, the entity named Abeloth was necessary for the Grand Design set down by the Sith from ancient times as stated by the great Tulak Hord himself. The Dark side was the first thing born from Chaos, the Sith needed to work to return the Universe back to Chaos, and Abeloth was herself the Bringer of Chaos and so would act like a… Hyperspace beacon for the primordial essence that birthed the Universe and would one-day devour it all once again.
"Welcome to Chaos, eh Mother?" snickered Dhor as he stood from, picking up the black mask he would use as the face of Darth Stygius, for now anyway.
With a victorious smirk on his face he stood and pressed a button to lower the boarding ramp as the transport finally set down on its landing struts, with cape billowing behind him the Dark Lord of the Sith made his way through the transport and pulled his hood up, closing and locking the transport boarding ramp before setting out to start a ripple that would consume the Galaxy itself.