The Empire was in uproar.
Overnight, five high-ranking and influential Sith Lords had been assassinated in their homes. By the time morning broke on Dromund Kaas, news was already spreading through the farthest reaches of holonet. The list of the victims was a who's who of wealthy and prominent among the Imperial elite.
Tortha
Rundes
Spiriac
Latson
Japheth
All five had been poisoned to weaken their constitution, and then attacked with a bladed weapon. The timing of the attacks, the precautions taken, the identical methods used, all law enforcement officials agreed that these heinous crimes were perpetrated by a single individual with a specific goal. As a result, and at the behest of his advisors, security at the estate of Asmodeus Halcyon was tripled. It would not be long before news of his business arrangements with the victims was made public, and the Imperial Guard did not know if Asmodeus, who had just inherited the estates of his business partners, was a suspect, or the next in line for the killer.
The apartment complex that held Asmodeus' rooftop penthouse was evacuated of all other tenants by the Guard, who stood watch over the building night and day. Asmodeus found himself in a unique position. With the others gone and their assets passed to him via their Survivor's contract, Asmodeus was now one of the wealthiest and most powerful Sith Lords in the Empire, save for the Dark Council themselves. Yet, he was confined to his tower as the Imperial Guard both guarded against the assassin and investigated Asmodeus for foul play. His assets had been frozen during the investigation, and he could do little but remain in his complex and wait for the investigation to clear him from any wrongdoing, or for the assassin to come for him.
He stood in his main dining room, looking out through the large windows at the skyline of Dromund Kaas. He could feel the weight of great anticipation upon him. A feeling of both dread and excitement. Little did he know how the events of this evening would change him, and his clan, forever.
"Well, I feel a bit like a guy meeting his ex-wife's new husband for the first time."
Michael Halcyon and his Sith doppelganger Pravitas squared off against the man shining with golden aura before them. He wielded no weapon, but exuded no fear. He floated above the floor by a few inches, looking down upon them with a disapproving frown. Michael had recognized that aura immediately, as he had long ago wielded the same power. Pravitas paid the stranger's power no mind, and regarded him simply as an invader from a foreign galaxy. He growled through the side of his mouth at Michael. "You always make quips. You aren't even good at it."
Michael lowered his saber and looked at Pravitas in mock indignation. "How can you say that? We are great at quipping."
Pravitas snapped back. " 'We' aren't anything, idiot! 'You' and 'I', separate people! When are you going to get that?"
"Well it'd be easier if I didn't feel like I was looking into a particularly dirty mirror every time I talk to you!"
"Don't start with that, Great White Hope, if I were as pale as you I'd be jumping to the Dark Side just to get a little color!"
"See? We are quippers!" Michael grinned triumphantly.
Ahem!
The two Halcyons were brought back to the task at hand when the Guardian cleared his throat. "If you two are quite finished. We have to speak."
Michael grumbled at the hovering intruder. "Listen pal, you're in my house. And your little Guardian glow don't fool me. I wielded that power myself, and it does NOT work here."
"Silence."
The Guardian raised a hand, and a golden flash of light swiped both men behind their knees, forcing them to the ground. "Hey! What the hell?" Pravitas was unable to move, his hands outstretched in front of him. "Great. You brought a god through the Rift. Excellent planning, idiot."
The Guardian spoke. "The Halcon lineage was exiled for a reason. Your clan was unstable, toying with the Laws of the Nexus at your own whims. This galaxy negates your power, rendering you unable to harm it. And yet, you Exiles have done little else but attempt to force your way back through the Rifts."
Michael was not grinning anymore. The weight of his past sins he had carried all his life was back, unearthed from the dark place inside himself he had it buried. "..I just...wanted to go home."
"This is your home now, Exile. I am here to ensure it. You were granted a final shard of the Guardian power when you were sent here. You and your clan has benefited from the Guardian's longevity. You have proven yourselves unworthy to receive it. I am here to take it from you."
The golden man raised a hand again. "This Rift behind me is the final entryway to this galaxy. When I part through it, it will be sealed permanently. The Halcyons will go down in the outside universe as a cautionary tale of what happens when Guardians are corrupted by their power."
He closed his fist. "I take back your final inheritance. You, and your clan, now mortal. You will live out the rest of your lives in exile, and die. So it is commanded."
A blast of golden energy pierced through Pravitas and Michael from behind. They arched their backs and screamed in pain. The Guardian absorbed the last remnants of Nexus energy from every Halcyon in the Exile Galaxy, sealing their fates, and changing them forever.
One Hour Earlier...
"Dammit! Now is the time, you have to do it right now! I command you!"
Oryon was infuriated. The news of the assassinations had just reached him. He knew his own assassin Kaikorero was not responsible, which meant someone else was gunning for Asmodeus as well, and he was not about to let anyone steal his moment of triumph. "This is what I paid you for! I swear, if you do not kill Asmodeus now I will drop you back on that miserable rock I found you on!"
The encryption on the holovid scrambled again, but Oryon could make out Kaikorero's form. She shuffled uneasily back and forth. "I'm...sorry. I can't."
The transmission cut out. Oryon howled in anger. Decades of service to that pompous schemer, only to be jerked around again and again. He finally had his plan in place to remove Asmodeus permanently, and it had tripped at the finish line. No matter. If his planted agent could not complete her mission, he would have to finish it himself.
He grabbed his rifle and steered his ship back to Dromund Kaas. He would kill Asmodeus himself if he had to.
Haborym walked through the empty corridors of the abandoned tenement building. He liked the silence. Ever since his treatment which had healed many of the scars in his brain tissue, he was feeling more like himself. His real self. The general who had commanded the armies of Asmodeus the Warlord. And yet, the past several decades he had spent as a sadistic and cannibalistic monster, and there was plenty of that personality in him left. He was rediscovering who he was, and now that the voices in his head were gone, he reveled in silence whenever he could.
The Imperial Guard had evacuated the building for Asmodeus' protection, and Haborym had spent his day rummaging through the apartments of the absent tenants. He had begun a collection of particularly jaunty hats when he heard a soft clatter in the hallway. He stuck his head out the doorframe, the wide brimmed pink flower top hat catching on the frame and bending like a bonnet.
"Helloooo?"
A member of the Imperial Guard, recognizable by their stark red armor, stood at the end of the hallway. And yet, something was different. Haborym frowned and took off the hat. "Hey. You there!"
The Guard did not move. At all. Suddenly, Haborym realized what was wrong. It was the smell. With that red armor, his vision might never have caught it from this far away, but Haborym was far too familiar with the smell of blood to miss it filling it the hallway, choking the corridor. Haborym quickly sprinted over to the Guard, who fell over suddenly and collapsed on the floor. He sniffed again. Blood. And lots of it. And a familiar smell as well. Perspiration, a distinctive sweat and smell. He had encountered this person before. Long, long ago...
The realization hit him suddenly. "Oh no." He sprinted for the lift. "Asmodeus! She's here!"
Asmodeus stood next to his dining room table, still looking out over the Dromund Kaas skyline. A glass of Corellian whiskey sat on the table, half finished. He knew what was coming. In a way, he had been waiting for it all his life. And if he were to die, he saw no greater justice than dying at the hands of the one he had wronged the most.
"Hello Calliope."
He turned and faced the young woman. Her red hair spilled over a dark scarf in a striking similarity to the blood dripping from her blade.
"I'm here to end you." Her voice was rough, raspy. She had fought her way through countless tortures to reach this moment. "You have to pay for your sins."
Asmodeus kneeled before her. He was ready. "End it, child. My soul is ready."
Haborym panted as he raced up the eastern stairwell to the dining room. Oryon sprinted up the western stairs, rifle in hand. They both reached the dining room at the same time, slamming doors open at the opposite ends of the room;
Just in time to see Calliope strike.
