The nights on Corellia were cold in this season; the winter setting in over the vast cityscape of the capital area, and H'layth shivered slightly as he surveyed the glimmering buildings in the cold night. His warehouse hideout would do for now, but he was constantly searching for a better location to continue his training of Mya; who was a promising student, if not a bit … informal. He closed his eyes, concentrating on the force, and reached out through it, above the cloudy, starless sky, into space and out into the galaxy; searching.

Jaster Mereel blinked away sleepiness in the Jedi Academy courtyards, many lightyears away, his hands resting on the opening pages of a book detailing the known history of the Sith and Jedi wars, many centuries ago. After finding himself unable to sleep, and his roommate drifting off to sleep early in preparations for his apprentice trials the following week, Mereel had found himself wander back to the Academy Archives, conveniently open all hours. The late night service droid rolled silently up to him, but the Jedi apprentice sensed it's presence as it rounded the near shelves and wasn't surprised when its mechanical voice addressed him a moment later.

"Are you in need of any further assistance, Master Mereel?" the droid asked, always wanting to serve. Again, Mereel wiped his weary eyes and shook his head.

"No, K-H5, I think I'll be fine, thank you." He replied as he read on about the valiant crusades of the ancient Jedi in the uncharted regions of space; warring the Sith Lords who based themselves there. His mind only followed part of the story; most of his thoughts were on the mysterious Sith who'd accosted him on Sadomine, then disappeared so quickly. Who had he been? How had he found his way to the Sith planet, and, if he was who Jaster felt he was, why did the Mandalorian have no recollection of him from the past? He pondered over these questions as he thumbed absently through the pages of the books in front of him, the dim library lights numbing his mind and inducing a sleepy state …

H'layth felt a disturbance. The young one! He was … far away, but the presence was unmistakable, and the Sith's mind leapt from it's lackadaisical scanning of the force to concentrate every bit of his consciousness on that weak, faraway aura …

Jaster suddenly sat bolt upright, his mind tingling with a familiar, though weak memory. Concentrating, the Jedi searched the Academy subconsciously for some sign of the Sith's presence, but found nothing; the sense remained. Wherever the man was, he was alive, and trying to locate or contact Jaster through the force. Where are you? Mereel begged the weak presence through the force, committing all he had to the struggling beacon. There was no reply, and the Jedi tried several times more with no more luck. Who are you?

H'layth received a strong reciprocation from the Jedi's tiny presence, but words failed him as he struggled, curious, to hear the young one's thoughts. Then it came to him, in a rush; Who are you? The Sith smiled.

I am Lord Juris H'layth, but you may call me Darth Diabolic, if you so wish.

The Jedi took his time in replying.

H'layth? The Jedi pondered, Isn't that the name of a shipping company for spare parts based in the inner core?

The Sith paused, taken aback; the young one knew his name was a farce.

No … he tried evasively, but the Jedi was quick to pick up on his thoughts, and they betrayed his uncertainty.

Yes, it is. The company ships parts to the Academy for repairs on our cruisers. The youth told him with triumph, but then his feelings changed; You don't have a real name, do you?

The Sith was struggling now, his brow breaking out in sweat as he searched for more lies to cover the unsettling truth the Jedi was slowly unraveling, but before he could even think to mask it, the name that had haunted him since his awakening appeared …

Mereel …

The Jedi's thoughts abruptly halted, frozen in shock, the young Mandalorian quickly jumped on the slip.

Your name is Mereel, Sith. You are a Mandalore, and you are my brother!

More triumph.

How do you know anything, Jedi child! What does a simple name mean to you and your sad, extinct race? You know nothing of me!

The Sith was becoming angry, his hate corrupting the force medium they now used to communicate, and the messages became weaker still, harder to decipher. Jaster made one final effort, focusing all he had left to send the crucial information to the faraway Sith.

I know for sure now, Sith. His message told H'layth, My name is Jaster Mereel; and I am the last of the Mandalorians no longer!

Jaster collapsed with exhaustion onto the library desk, his books clattering to the floor and sending the robotic assistant zooming to his side.

"Master Mereel, are you quite alright?" The droid asked, his programmed concern sounding false and overemphasized, even as he helped the young Jedi to his seat. Jaster, however, was smiling, wiping the sweat from his brow.

"I'm fine, K-H5," he said under his breath, "I've never felt better."

H'layth was distraught; he knew for sure now what he had felt all along; the Jedi child was a relation of his, but he still could not pull the child's memory from his consciousness. He figured he needed time, and sleep, especially after that latest of strains. Making his way back into the warehouse, he sensed another, familiar presence inside, and for the first time that night, his weary face broke in a shade of a smile. Mya was up, and she was practicing. Sneaking into the designated lightsaber area, the Sith began to watch as his apprentice went over her katas and stances, taking breaks every so often to allay the deep sleepiness he could sense creeping in on her consciousness. The Twi'lek had been pushing herself very hard to prove herself to him, and H'layth admitted silently to himself that he had probably not given her much of a rest at all in the past few months; he wondered how long she had been getting up late at night like this to practice some more.

"Mya," he finally called to her as she slumped down to relax after the final strike of the most difficult set slashed through the cool air of the open room. She jumped, and fixed her Master with a look of guilt and apprehension. "Very good, Mya, though I wonder if you aren't pushing yourself too hard."

"I couldn't sleep," She yawned, a pitiful excuse, but H'layth accepted it for her sake. "I decided to come and … practice a bit more."

"So I see." He chuckled, leaping down to the hard floor from the catwalks above, "and how long have these practices been going on without my knowing?"

"Oh, only this once, Juris, I promise!" She was so innocent, and his eyes must have left her feeling stripped bare. "… and a few other times, usually only on the first and third days of the week." She added quickly.

"Well, you are progressing fine, and the skill and determination you've shown me are admirable." The Master conceded, "I want you to be healthy and rested for when we can finally begin to make our presence known." Mya's beautiful green-shaded face lit up in delight.

"Oh, when, Juris? When?" She begged, "I am ready to fight the Jedi now!" She cried happily, obviously not knowing the danger and importance of such a declaration. She was good, but the Jedi would kill her, he was sure; he wasn't even so sure he could take on that Mandalorian child again, with the strong feelings he brought to the table. Not yet.

"No, Mya, the Jedi can wait," He said, and she frowned, hanging her head, as if she thought she had failed him somehow. "There are more … pressing matters to attend to than the Jedi at the present moment."

"Like what, Juris?" She asked, walking over to him as he took a seat in one of the few chairs he'd stolen to furnish the huge room. He didn't really care anymore that she called him by his first name; it was fake, in any case.

"There are others in the galaxy, nearby, at that, who think that they can weild the power of the dark side. They call themselves Sith, but they are weak; I have seen them die by the handfuls at the hands of the Jedi, and they first must be your test, my own test, before we begin to confront the Jedi." Mya lit up again, and he closed his eyes to savor her rising anger and hatred of the 'Sith' who had captured and seemingly erased his memory. Her hate even felt good, he thought with an inner smile. He barely noticed in his weariness the Twi'lek's silent approach. He opened his eyes in a start as he fingers slid down over his shoulders.

"What are you doing, Mya?" He asked in a whisper, shocked to find that he was aroused, somewhat. He felt more than saw her smile, and a low voice sounded close to his ear;

"Why so tense, Master Juris?" He was stunned as she began to massage his shoulders gently, working at muscles that refused to relax under her fingers. "I'm trying to help you relax, that's all." She slid around his side, his hands gripping the chair's armrests so hard his knuckles were white. "Unless," she said, her wonderful face now in view, and so close! "you want something more?"

H'layth had never kissed a woman before that he knew of, and having had his mind wiped clean around the age of twenty five was probably a big reason for that, but the Sith was fairly certain he'd never kissed a Twi'lek before. Until now, that is. Mya kissed him feverishly, her lips pressed against his own, prying his slowly open … then …

"No!" he pulled away, making sure to keep his hands on her shoulders as he gently pushed her away, and nowhere lower. "Mya, I can't do this." He thought he'd made himself clear with that, but the alien only shrugged.

"Fine," she said, "I'll just do it, then." And she was kissing him again, taking him by surprise so that he nearly fell over backwards out of the chair. He again wrestled her gently away.

"We can't do this, my apprentice." He stressed the word, invoking the formality that had just died in their … relationship. The girl looked guilty now, ashamed, and the Sith couldn't bring himself to really scold her, plus he was fairly certain even a non-force-sensitive could have seen that he had enjoyed part of it.

"I'm, so sorry, Master H'layth." She managed to gasp out, her eyes watering up with small tears. He was still too shocked to do anything, and he wouldn't know what to do, anyway, so he did nothing as she stammered out about a few more random, nonsensical feelings she had, then turned and fled to her chambers.

"By the force," H'layth gasped, relaxing finally, "What the hell am I going to do if she tries that again?" He didn't even know for sure if a human and a Twi'lek could … he shuddered the thought away and stood, walking to his own chamber, across the room, and far enough away from Mya so he didn't have to hear her crying, if she still was.