Draco's home – if one could call it that – was a run-down warehouse a good hour's trek from the cantina and the dead stormtroopers that littered the alley there. The mysterious armored man moved like a flitting shadow, stalking through the back alleys and darkened streets as if his hefty armor was weightless. His cloak billowed out behind him as he walked, making him seem to double in size, and try as she might to stay even with her savior, Tahiira could only barely keep up with him.
Never once did he stray from his path or look over his shoulder to make sure Tahiira was keeping up. She was sure he could sense her presence, but it was still disconcerting; almost as if he didn't care she was there at all, or –more frightening – was purposefully hiding his interest in her presence.
She didn't try to speak to him. She wasn't sure she'd be able to work up the courage even if she tried. Her Jedi senses were as sharp as ever, and she could feel the dark side rolling off this man in waves. It radiated from him, like smoke billowing from an active volcano. It buffeted her, uncomfortably so, as if she was sitting too close to a heater in the dead of winter.
The Inquisitors had felt different. During the duel, Tahiira had sensed a wave of ice-cold through the Force, intermittently shot through with hot flashes of adrenaline or hatred. But always there remained that icy sense of calm and cold, sinister calculation. But Draco…
He was an inferno, a bottomless well of seething rage that threatened to explode at the slightest provocation. Tahiira found herself tensing every time she drew near him, her instincts screaming at her that he was not to be trusted, not to be followed. But never once did he lose his level-headed look of calm. He walked briskly but smoothly, all but gliding through the duracrete streets with boots that barely made a sound.
Don't trust this man, she found herself thinking. You were a fool to even agree to follow him. I don't know what he is or what he wants, but he is dangerous. Far more dangerous than a few Inquisitors.
But so were the stormtroopers that would inevitably be hunting her. So were the Masters she had abandoned only hours before. So was she, if so prodded.
Draco had cut down two stormtroopers within the blink of an eye. He was obviously a skilled swordsman, and Tahiira could sense the Force within him. He obviously wasn't a Jedi, not even a fallen one. And if he wasn't an Inquisitor…
Just what was he?
When they reached Draco's hidden warehouse, he ducked inside without a single word or indication that they had arrived at their destination. Tahiira followed at a slower, more cautious pace, wary of an ambush. But when she stepped through the small, nearly-invisible door leading into his sanctum, she found only a large, sparsely-decorated warehouse floor.
It was obvious that her mysterious savior was not the only occupant here. There were cots scattered about the floor and a hastily-drawn series of circles in the center of the area. Tahiira recognized it from her own experience as a sparring circle – she had trained in lightsaber combat using a similar design.
"What is this place?" she whispered.
"Sanctuary," Draco rumbled. He drew his hood back over his helmet, letting the sparse ambient light cast shimmering highlights across the dull metal. "My disciples live, train, and plan here, free from unwanted eyes. It is a haven for those who are worthy of it."
So there were more than just Draco. The thought was not comforting. "And… where are they now? Your followers?"
With a dry wheeze, Draco took off again and strode confidently into a different room. "Tending to various tasks and ensuring my will is done. They have their missions throughout the undercity. They will return, but not for some time."
"Are… are you some kind of cult leader?"
Draco obviously did not find the sentiment amusing. "Something of the sort, I suppose."
He led her into a small kitchen and gestured for her to sit at the rickety-looking table in the center. A meal was already prepared: agro-meat and synthmash. She slowly took the seat, not wanting to upset her host.
"Were you expecting me?"
"Your arrival was foretold," was all Draco would say. "Now please. Eat. You must recover your strength."
Tahiira didn't argue, her stomach growling loudly at the armored man's words. But she still was curious enough to inquire, "For what?"
Draco did not answer. He turned away and busied himself with something on the counter. She was more than content to leave him to his own musings. But then she noticed the assorted collection of lightsabers hanging from his belt.
There were at least five of them, each unique in its design. She saw an elegant, curved dueling saber and a sharp-angled, lethal-looking battle saber. There was even the severed emitter of a hefty lightsaber pike, and what looked like a miniscule lightsaber shoto next to that.
She gulped. "Were… were those taken from Inquisitors?"
His answer was short and curt. "Some of them."
She fell silent, her gaze returning to her plate. She was surer than ever now that agreeing to accompany him was a bad decision. She shook her head and thought, what the kriff was I thinking? I'm going to get myself killed.
She was more than content to let silence overtake them. But after a short time, Draco gestured with one razor-bladed glove and a deep rumble filled the air. Tahiira's lightsaber quivered, then suddenly flew from her belt and clapped into the palm of his hand.
She sputtered, dropping her fork. "Hey! That's mine!"
He didn't turn, nor did Tahiira have any desire to press the issue; she didn't want to provoke her – for now – gracious host. He just tucked her lightsaber out of sight in front of him and began to tinker with it. "It will be returned to you shortly. Calm yourself."
Tahiira glared at the back of his head, but slowly returned to her meal. It didn't take long to realize how long it had been since she had eaten fully, and in a few short minutes she was wolfing down the synthetic paste and hard meat as quickly as she could.
"So," she eventually said, her mouth still full of bland protein mash, "why did you help me back there? You obviously know I'm a Jedi."
"I do."
"Well, most people don't have a very high opinion of Jedi these days."
He continued his business with her lightsaber. She could hear metal scraping and screws being removed. "Rest assured that I too hold no love for Jedi."
"Then…" Tahiira paused, "why help me?"
He looked up, and Tahiira sensed anger pulse within him. Tahiira felt shivers race up her spine and quickly looked away.
"You are powerful," he boomed, resting his clawed gloves on his hips. "More powerful than most who flee from the Empire's wrath. I would not see such power stagnate under the slothful eyes of the Jedi."
"I can feel that you aren't exactly weak yourself," Tahiira pointed out. "But your presence… it seethes with dark side energy. You're no Jedi."
He said nothing.
"You're more powerful than any Inquisitor I've ever felt," she continued, "but if that's true, why hasn't the Empire found you and conscripted you?"
He finally turned back to her. Held tightly in one hand was her lightsaber, but he made no motion to hand it over. With a dry, sickly-sounding wheeze, he settled into the chair across from her.
"Let me tell you a story," he said. "A story that begins thousands of years ago."
He set the lightsaber on the table between them. "Long ago, the Jedi and their eternal enemies, the Sith, fought a final, cataclysmic battle on the planet Ruusan. The results of the battle were almost complete: there were few survivors on either side."
"I remember the Masters teaching me of this," Tahiira murmured. "The Sith created a doomsday weapon that killed almost everything on the planet."
"The purest, most destructive expression of the Dark Side," Draco said. "With its use, the Jedi forces and the Sith brotherhood were completely annihilated. Yet the Republic endured and claimed victory, while the Sith withered away into the histories as the vanquished evil-doers."
That T-visored gaze seemed to stare right through Tahiira, and his rasping wheezes sent shivers down her spine. The razor-bladed claws of his gloves tapped lightly against the tabletop.
"Unknown to the galaxy, the Sith endured. A Sith Lord by the name of Bane escaped the battle and reformed the order. He dictated that there should only be two Sith: master and apprentice."
Tahiira's eyes were wide. "They… they survived?"
"You are so surprised?" Draco said, cocking his helmeted head.
"Well… not really, I guess. There have always been rumors that Darth Vader was more than just a fallen Jedi. But…"
Draco continued his tale. "Yet Bane failed to ensure that he and his apprentice were the only survivors of the battle. Other Lords survived and fled into the depths of uncharted space, determined to rebuild their order in safety and security far from the scrutiny of the Jedi."
He cocked his head, his helmeted gaze never leaving her. "They lived in peace and isolation, keeping a watchful eye on the galaxy they had left behind. After a time, they began to send acolytes into the galaxy to conscript other powerful Force-users into the fold."
Tahiira's eyes widened as she began to put the pieces together. The mysterious armored man, the red lightsaber…
He continued his tale as her heart began to sink with dread. "This isolated community lived in secret for millennia. Then, a year ago, one of the acolytes captured a powerful Force-sensitive girl and brought her back to the enclave."
He stood from his chair and began pacing back and forth, hands linked behind his back. "Yet the girl's companions were a greater threat than anyone anticipated. They tracked her to the enclave, with the Empire in tow. Despite the best efforts of the acolyte and the enclave's greatest warriors, the Sith were decimated. There were no survivors."
"And… and you," Tahiira gulped, "you were that acolyte?"
He slowly turned to her, clenching a fist. "Perhaps proper introductions are in order, young Jedi."
He straightened into a rigid pose and bowed at the neck, an ancient sign of respectful greeting. The motion only made Tahiira's blood run cold.
"I am Darth Draco, mightiest warrior of the Xexeron enclave of Sith Lords. My people have fallen, and I now seek vengeance for their destruction."
She instantly leapt from her chair and reached for her lightsaber. Before she could grab the weapon, Draco's own lightsaber was lit and held tightly in his clawed hand. The scarlet blade hovered inches in front of her chest, humming violently. A terrified squeak tore itself from her throat and she froze like a small rodent before a predatory hawkbat.
"That," the Sith Lord boomed, "would be most unwise."
She shivered, eyes wide and terrified. "You're really a Sith?"
"A true-blooded warrior," he said haughtily. He placed his fist against his chest. "Trained since infancy in the ways of the Dark Side."
His lightsaber continued emitting its malevolent drone, casting blood red light across the kitchen. Draco tilted his helmet down, scrutinizing her closely. "I sensed your power long ago and have been watching ever since. My followers seek to bolster their numbers, and I have been far too long without an apprentice."
Tahiira's sinking heart now plummeted into the pit of her stomach. She snatched her lightsaber from the table and clutched it close to her chest. Draco's lightsaber was still aimed resolutely at her and she slowly backed away from him.
"I… I can't be your apprentice!" she said, her voice shaking. "I'm a Jedi!"
"Are you?" he stepped around the table, advancing on her. His voice was low and soft, a predatory purr interrupted only by the staggered wheeze of his breath. "As I recall, you fled your enclave. Your people turned against you, believing you to be the cause of their troubles."
His bootsteps thudded against the floor as he followed her toward the exit. "The Jedi preach peace and acceptance yet practice isolation and ostracism. So long as they fear the Empire, they will never accept you. They will never realize your power and potential."
"That's not true! Master Uma'si doesn't fear me!"
"Search your feelings," the Sith thundered. "You know that you will never find true purpose among their ranks. You will never be an equal among them, but a liability. They will cast you out in the interest of self-preservation."
That certainly sounded like something Vesta would approve of. He had been arguing with the other Padawans to throw her out ever since the attack on the enclave. If he got his way, she would never be accepted back.
Draco must have sensed her indecision, as he took another step toward her. She, in turn, took another step away.
"Join me," he insisted, "and I will help you to unlock the true potential of your abilities. You will want for nothing and will find yourself in command of powers you cannot even imagine! All the power and authority you dream of lies at your fingertips, waiting for you to reach out and claim it."
He lowered his lightsaber and held out a clawed glove, beckoning to her. "Only take my hand, and you will become more powerful than your Jedi Masters ever dreamed. And together, we will rid the galaxy of Bane's cowardly descendants, bringing true peace to all!"
"I can't!" Tahiira said. "It's not the Jedi way!"
"The Jedi seek to spread peace across the galaxy," Draco said. "Is it not your sworn duty to destroy evil wherever you find it?"
"W-well…"
"And if placed before Darth Vader or the Emperor, is it not your duty to destroy them?"
"But-"
"The Jedi way will not carry you to victory," Draco said. "Only by joining me will you find the clarity and purpose you seek."
"I… I can't…" Tahiira shook her head desperately. "I just can't!"
Draco clenched his fist in irritation, then deactivated his lightsaber and hooked it back to his belt. "Very well," he rumbled. His voice was cold and hard. "Return to your Jedi and see how they welcome you. And when they turn you away to the street again – if they do not choose to kill you outright – know that I offered you sanctuary and purpose."
Tahiira stared at him, indecision weight at her heart. It was true that she sought inclusion and wished to truly fight evil. But… but the Sith way was wrong! It went against everything she had been trained to believe. Even if she used it to combat evil…
"I just… no!" she said, shaking her head so wildly her lekku flailed behind her. "I can't."
"You must do what you think is right," Draco said. "Choose what you must."
He gestured with one hand and the door swung open behind her.
Tahiira instantly turned and fled, running from the warehouse as quickly as her legs could take her. Her lightsaber was clutched with a death grip in one hand. She glanced over her shoulder to see Draco watching her from the doorway.
Then she fixed her eyes ahead of her and didn't look back. She didn't trust herself to look back and remain true to her purpose. She needed to return to the enclave as quickly as possible.
The Masters needed to be told of this disturbing development.