Three speeders skidded to a stop at the head of a long, deep canyon valley throwing up torrents of loose sand which fell quickly back to the earth in the cold stillness of the morning. The first to arrive, a young man in dark robes, quickly slid off of his bike. Anxiety played across his eyes as he began his search, the rest of his face hidden behind a mask.

"Where should we start looking, Master Mondrak?" he asked as he peered though the narrow gap at the entrance to the valley.

"I think asking might point us in the right direction," replied the older woman slyly as she slowed the engine and dismounted her own speeder hoisting a small but laden sack over her shoulder. The final speeder ground to a halt next to her driven a slight, sickly girl who, by appearance, should not have been able to manage a speeder by herself. The girl methodically shut off the engine and slid off, making sure that she kept the staff she carried near to her body.

The boy watched carefully as his master took a few steps forward, then stopped just before passing the narrow section at the rift's head. She stood tall as always, with complete confidence in her knowledge. He considered her as she gazed into the shadowed gloom. She was not particularly like the other masters. But of course she wouldn't be, she was a Sith. Not just in the sense that she had joined the Sith, she was a Sith, one of the original race. She had leaned from her masters the ways of the Force without the undertones of the battles waged against the Jedi because they had not heard of the Jedi. She had even been there on Ziost when the Dark Jedi first came into their power and took the title of Dark Lords of the Sith. As many Masters contemplated and considered only for the future, she worked from the past. Her spirit itself was… organic compared to the other Lords' teachings at the Academy. She would be the first to tell an enemy his strengths and praise his achievements, but somehow in the same moment lay bare his weaknesses and faults and even the deepest secrets of his life.

In the gray light and against the soil of her home world she seemed even more organic, as her deep red skin appeared to fade into the very shadows of the rusted crags behind her and the Sith tattoos across her body fell among the darker crevices. She had not yet reveled to anyone how she had lived so long, but only her long coarse silver-gray hair hinted at the many years she had wandered the galaxy.

As the sun peaked over the horizon, Mondrak turned her attention to the runes cut into the rock face, reached up and traced their faint weathered outlines with her fingers, muttering their meanings under her breath. The chill and texture of the stone took her mind back to the first time she had been here. She had stood here prior to many of these runes being carved into the cliff wall, and the ones that had, were fresh and jagged not worn smooth by centuries of wind as the inscription beneath her fingers now was. This time though, he was not being brought to the valley, but patiently decomposing beyond its entrance.

She lowered her hand and took a step back and spoke a few lines in a harsh and noticeably ancient tongue. The young man's ears perked up. He had been studying this language for years knowing that there were none alive who still spoke it. After all this time, there is still much I can learn from her, he though as he began slowly repeated what she said, his head bent in thought. 'We intend no harm to the dead. You will suffer us to pass.'

Upon realizing the words he had translated, he looked up to see whom his master was speaking to, but there was no one, and nothing had happened.
Mondrak turned back to the two students, "To Dathka's tomb, then?"
She walked through the entrance to the valley without hindrance and began down the dim, snaking path towards the tombs.

The young man stood there stunned, staring after his master. A moment later he realized that his mouth was hanging open and he was still standing there alone with Tara. "You're really not one for conversation, are you?" he asked, thankful for his mask and shaking his head he starting down the path after Mondrak.

Tara simply returned a blank stare, no life was behind her wisps of frail hair that hung over her black eyes. She watched Sinclair turn and follow the red woman, and giving the stones at the entrance one last calculating look, she began her own decent into the valley.