Every five years, Kuat Drive Yards held an investors' conference on the wealthy trade world of Entralla. Investors and shareholders met with corporate leadership and representatives of all the major departments. The company used the conference as an opportunity to showcase new products and designs that were about to go on the market as a method of drawing interest.

This conference, Uvanar intended to display his prototype warship.

For the occasion, KDY had rented one of the oldest orbital stations over Entralla. It had been the original headquarters of the Guild of Interstellar Merchants, before the guild relocated to more prestigious housing on the planet's surface. The station's central dome could comfortably fit thousands. Its transparisteel walls had been covered with holoscreens set to display tropical, sunny weather. Hundreds of beings, whether important business folk or representatives of guilds and planets, milled around the open chamber like families gawking at zoo animals. They gathered around holoprojectors showing design specs for newer ship models and spoke with KDY executives.

"I can absolutely assure you that KDY has every intention of continuing to pursue government contracts," Uvanar said. He spoke with a small gathering of wealthy beings. Throughout the encounter, he resisted the strong urge to murder them and feast on their hearts. Normally he avoided the investors' conference if he could. The crowds of sniveling, preening, wealthy ingrates set him on edge. Yet, this was the prime opportunity to unveil his prototype. As a critical piece in the galactic Dejarik board that was the Grand Plan, he had no choice. "We remain committed to supporting the Republic by bolstering the economy."

"That is an admirable goal, Duke," the Quarren across from him said in a raspy voice. His facial tentacles wriggled as he glanced at the holographic displays. "But Rendili StarDrive currently holds a monopoly on contracts with planetary governments and enforcement agencies."

He gave a practiced smile. "That may be for the moment, but nothing lasts forever. As a company, they do nothing but churn out tired, old starships with no new improvements and twice the cost. KDY is the only proper cure to such stagnation. Our clients have always enjoyed the peak of scientific and engineering design."

A Neimoidian to his left, the chief executive officer of an import/export company wearing a garish yellow headdress, sipped from a glass of Alderaanian wine. "Some would argue that Rendili does far more than KDY to bolster the economic landscape. Their greater reach and emphasis on mass produce put them at an advantage."

"I would argue that we do a great deal more to support the galactic economy," Uvanar countered. "Our warships help guarantee the safety of many important trade routes, while Rendili starships protect individual planets and systems. Many of those combined don't have the wealth of even the least prosperous Core World. By protecting the trade routes themselves, we ensure that wealth is distributed where it needs to be. And we generously donate to many charitable organizations and companies known for their philanthropic endeavours. Credits will trickle from the top down, and everyone is the better for it."

A convenient story, but almost none of it was true. Perdition, like many of his Sith predecessors, recognized that the worlds in the Outer rim and border regions were a fertile breeding ground for conflict. He had spent a great deal of time and resources fermenting discontent in the outer systems. By focusing the majority of wealth on the Core Worlds, which had long histories of lavishing themselves with luxury, he helped enflame the resentment of the less fortunate. In the centuries since Tarsus Valorum had orchestrated what academics and politicians had been referring to as "The Golden Age of the Republic", the galaxy's elite had turned a blind eye to external affairs. They simply didn't care about a succession crisis on some world thousands of lightyears away, or a population of aliens with unpronounceable names enslaved by malicious pirates.

"The Duke speaks truth," the Verpine to his right said in its natural language of clicks and screeches. "He has graced our hive with his generosity for many years now. We would not be so fortunate if not for him. By contributing to KDY shipbuilding, we contribute to all."

There was a chorus of agreement from around the circle. Meetra Kuat approached, dressed in a figure-hugging shimmersilk gown the colour of a blood-red sunrise. The neckline was low-cut, and a slit along the side revealed the smooth skin of her leg. Her hair was wrapped in a bun held together with a crystal comb carved in the likeness of her family crest. Those gathered around Uvanar openly gawked, even those species not usually attracted to human females. Her stunning, film star appearance had been carefully crafted to disarm any of the beings present. A distracted opponent was easily lured into a position of entrapment.

"Pardon the interruption, gentles," she greeted, a welcoming smile on her face. "But I was hoping to borrow my associate."

"Of course, my lady. Of course," the Muun co-chair of the InterGalactic Banking Clan replied. "Every conversation is brightened by your radiant presence."

"It is never a bother," the Neimoidian added.

Her smile widened. "You are too kind. Please, enjoy the conference and all of my company's offerings." She took Uvanar's arm in hers and guided him away from the group. Once they were out of earshot, she lowered her voice. "It looked like you needed saving, old friend."

"My thanks," Uvanar said evenly. "There is only so much drink in the universe that can comfort the headaches these credit-mongers induce."

Kuat smiled as they walked, offering a few words of greeting to the Ciutric delegation. "I know how stressful these events are for someone who values their privacy. That is why I wanted to personally thank you for making an appearance here. And I understand you've arranged a gala at your estate next week."

"That is correct."

She looked up at him, a glint of curiosity in her eyes. "I must confess, I am surprised. How long has it been since you last opened up your home to visitors?"

Uvanar nodded to a pair of Corellian energy moguls. "If memory serves, it was nineteen years ago, after my promotion."

"So why now?"

He shrugged marginally. "I believe it will be an excellent opportunity to celebrate the unveiling of my prototype."

"You think it will have that much success? How can you be so certain?"

How could one explain the intricacies of the Force, the power of the Dark Side, to one who was deaf to its influence? Meetra was many things, ambitious, clever, ruthless, but she could never understand the realm of existence Perdition occupied. He stood leagues above the pathetic mortals who thought themselves mighty simply by the numbers in their accounts. He molded and shaped the Dark Side to his will. In return, it had shown him that his endeavours would bear ripe rewards. The unveiling would be an uncontested success. He was as sure of this as anything in his life.

"Call it a gut feeling," he said after a few moments' silence.

She smirked. "If there is anything I've learned about you, old friend, it is to never question your confidence."

An hour later, Uvanar stood on a raised platform at the head of the chamber. Everyone gathered in front of him, drinks in hand. He could sense their anticipation and doubt. Many were skeptical, while others were eager to see how it could improve their fortunes. The holographic displays on the dome wall had been deactivated. Behind Uvanar was a field of stars, with the disc of Entralla peeking from the side.

"We are gathered here to celebrate the achievements, past and present, of Kuat Drive Yards," he began, his voice amplified by speaker drones hovering over the expansive crowd. "We have always produced the finest quality starships for countless centuries. In conflicts long gone, our capital ships were the spearhead of Republic fleets. They weathered Mandalorian invaders and all the empires of the Sith. They shattered armadas and crushed armies."

He paused, casting his gaze around the room.

"Those days are long gone, but never forgotten. KDY is committed to ensuring the peace and stability of the Republic. In the past, we did that by providing warships in periods of conflict. Now, we do it by providing the ultimate means of security. Our ships patrol many of the Core Worlds and trade routes. These areas are islands of stability in a galaxy so often plagued by anarchy and chaos. The answer to such threats…is us. We can keep your worlds safe, your business interests intact."

Clasping his hands in front of him, he discreetly pressed a button on his wrist communicator. His prototype waited a single lightyear away, ready to make its grand entrance. It would perform a micro hyperspace jump to exacting coordinates calculated by Perdition's late apprentice. Briac had been many things, chief among them mathematically brilliant. He'd produced, down to the thousandth decimal place, the precise location the warship would translate back into realspace for maximum effect.

"For the past five years, I have laboured to craft a new type of vessel. One that will put all our past efforts to shame and provide a blueprint of the future. These will be the sector defenses of tomorrow. These will have the power to crush any raiders, any pirate gang, any rival corporation. They will have the power to destroy the very stars themselves." He emphasized his point by pounding a fist into his other hand. Spreading his arms wide, he proclaimed in a loud voice, "Behold, the Harbinger-class Star Destroyer!"

At that very second, a massive shape came into view with a flicker of pseudo-motion. It materialized almost overtop the dome, eliciting gasps and horrified cries. The crowd pulsed as people ducked or flinched in reaction to the sudden appearance.

A normal hyperspace jump featured a few hundred to a few thousand kilometres of drift. That could have destroyed the station or taken the ship off-course. Fortunately, it had had days to enter Briac's calculations into the navicomputer. Seen from below, the Harbinger resembled an arrowhead with a wide base –to accommodate the engines— and a forked prow to give room for the bow hangar bay. 1600 metres long, it dwarfed any cruiser analogue, as well as featuring exponentially greater firepower.

The crowd's shock and surprise gave way to wonder and amazement. Dozens of voices spoke over each other as everyone expressed their interest. Perdition drank in the expanding burst of emotions, relishing the fruits of his labour.

Many systems and corporations, those who were represented at the conference, were unwitting pawns. Perdition had spent more than five years creating small-scale conflicts and encouraging the rise of pirate activity across select sectors. By themselves, these sectors were meaningless, except for their proximity to trade routes and important financial and industrial worlds. The idea was to cause a growing sense of unease and potential panic. Such conditions were a fantastic breeding ground for buyers in search of a means of protection.

And Perdition had now presented them exactly what they needed.

The holoprojectors scattered throughout the dome switched to an active view of the area around Entralla. The massive arrowhead of the Harbinger moved over the station like a meandering leviathan, ready to devour the first thing it saw. Uvanar pressed another button on his wrist communicator. In response, a number of small craft deployed from the Star Destroyer's bow hangar.

"Those fighters you see are drones, remotely operated by my technicians. Ladies and gentlemen, beings of assorted worlds, witness the power of the future!"

The drone fighters flew in random, circuitous routes around the Harbinger. A lance of energy from one of its starboard batteries struck one, blasting it into atoms. Another bolt tracked a target in mid-corkscrew, shearing a wing off and causing it to careen into another fighter. The crowd collectively 'oohed' and 'ahhed' at the impressive display of firepower. With every laser cannon discharge, every destroyed drone, Uvanar's smile grew and grew.

How easy it was to play entire worlds and billions of sentients like musical instruments. Soon enough, the orchestra of the Sith Grand Plan would eventually reach its crescendo, and all beings would feel the burning heat of unlimited power.


Vrehk drew his vibroblade, holding it in front of his face in a salute. He then gave a stylized flourish before holding it to the side, blade pointed down. Standing across from him, Darth Perdition repeated the salute. The master gave the slightest of nods, and the apprentice obliged by lunging at him.

Makashi, or the Way of the Ysalamiri, was the second form of lightsaber combat. According to his master, it had been developed in ages when the Sith were more numerous. Combat between lightsaber wielders became refined and perfected, resulting in the ultimate duelist's form. Vrehk was still learning the fundamentals of the form, as its strength laid in finesse and footwork. His species' natural toughness and strength sometimes affected their agility.

He and his master sparred for hours. Each bout had the same result: Vrehk being disarmed or knocked on his back, forced to yield. With every defeat, his frustration grew –along with the number of cuts on his arms and legs— as did his desire to master the form so he could one day beat his master.

Such a goal would take years, probably decades. But as in all things, Vrehk was patient.

Once the sparring ended, Perdition took him to one of the meditation spheres. They knelt across from each other, channeling the power of the Force. "As a practitioner of the Dark Side, you radiate power like a supernova compared to the dim mortals of the galaxy," Perdition explained. "In the past, the Sith used this to lord over entire worlds and legions of followers. As the chosen descendants of Darth Bane, we cannot follow the same path. Our way is in secrecy and deception. You must learn to conceal your true nature, lest you be discovered by the Jedi."

Vrehk nodded, but he furrowed his brow in confusion. "But how, master?"

"I will teach you. Force users have always had at least some ability with cloaking, but only a scant few utilized it. Members of our order have perfected the technique. It is said that Darth Zannah, apprentice to Darth Bane, was able to generate an aura of Light Side power around herself. She used this to infiltrate the Jedi Temple itself. It is from her wisdom that subsequent Sith Lords have learned to cast a cloak of the mundane around themselves."

Vrehk's eyes lit up at his master's words. Infiltrating the Jedi Temple? Was such a thing really possible? He could imagine having enough skill in the Force to accomplish such a monumental achievement. To stare into the face of one's enemy, while they were completely unaware of your intentions…He hungered for the knowledge, his eagerness tearing at him like a starving parasite.

A sudden realization came to him, and he asked, "Master, is this why you announced the gala here next week?"

"My intentions with the gala are political," Perdition said. "As head of one of The Ten houses, it is expected of me to host some functions at the estate. Much as I detest having to entertain socialites and dignitaries, it does serve a function. Such an event allows me to meet and influence important political figures from across the galaxy. The intricacies of the Grand Plan, which I will share with you only when you are ready, are advanced through manipulation and politicking." After a moment's silence, he added, "But it does present an opportunity for you to practice the cloaking technique. None of the guests are Force-sensitive, but many beings often recognize the darkness that lives within us. This will be your chance to blend in, like a Barab Camo-Lizard."

Over the next few days, Perdition taught him how to mask his presence in the Force. In many ways, it worked similarly to a hibridium cloaking mechanism on a starship. It hid the user from discovery, but it also prevented them from sensing others.

"You will be deaf to the workings of the Force while cloaked," Perdition told him. "As in all things, be mindful when using this ability."

Vrehk promised his master, and himself, that he would.

A week after Darth Perdition, in his public guise as Zephryk Uvanar, unveiled his fearsome Star Destroyer, the time came for the gala. Labouring through the previous night and all day, the droid staff polished floors, set tables, prepared dozens of multi-species meals, and hung large banners depicting House Uvanar's family crest. The estate was a flurry of activity, and Vrehk appreciated the pure efficiency. Maybe his master was onto something, preferring droids to organic servants.

Temporary landing pads had been constructed all around the estate grounds. They would accommodate the shuttles ferrying the guests from the orbital docking facilities. Once landed, the guests would be escorted through the estate's main doors. In years past, a pair of massive Rancor statues flanked the doors. But Perdition, after ascending to the rank of Dark Lord, removed them in favour of snarling Tuk'ata statues. The hounds had originated on Korriban with the ancient Sith. They were used for thousands of years to guard the tombs of the Dark Lords.

Vrehk doubted anyone at the gala would know enough history to recognize the statues.

As the evening's host, it was Perdition's duty to greet his guests as they entered the estate. And as his master's ward, it was Vrehk's duty to stand beside him. RZ-87 stood off to the side, recording each guest and anyone accompanying them. The droid would then file the information for later review. It was important to note the company the wealthy and powerful kept.

"Zephryk!" a reedy man with a pinched face greeted. He wore a dressing robe decorated with the colours of House Kuhlvult, one of The Ten. He walked arm-in-arm with a plump woman whose dark hair was arranged in a crown braid. Probably his wife. The man shook hands with Perdition, who gave him a tight smile. "When I heard you were going to open your doors after all these years, I called the messenger who told me the news a liar. Tell me, what secrets do you keep locked up in here? A Zeltron harem? A stash of glitterstim?"

"Nothing so interesting," Perdition replied. Even wrapped in a cloak of the mundane, he could feel his master's contempt. "Janess Kuhlvult, I'd like to introduce my ward, Vrehk Chund."

Vrehk stood a bit straighter. He was dressed in a blue shirt and black pants made from Dramassian shimmersilk. After so many years wearing simple threadbare robes and roughspun tunics, the delicate silk felt…wrong. Around his neck hung a medallion depicting the crest of House Uvanar. "It's an honour to meet you, Viscount Kuhlvult," he said, bowing to the other man.

"I see you've taught the boy some proper manners, at least," Kuhlvult noted. "He'll need all the help he can get, looking like that. There aren't that many beings who would feel comfortable with a Devaronian around. Maybe you could grind those horns down, boy. Look a little more like the rest of us."

The man's wife winced at his boisterous, insulting behaviour, but said nothing. Whatever force of will she might have had in the past, it was gone now.

For his part, Vrehk fought to contain his rising anger. He'd like nothing more than to reveal himself, his true nature, to this pathetic excuse of a man. Let the high and mighty Janess Kuhlvult whimper and scream as Vrehk broke every bone in his body with a gesture. Instead, he managed to maintain an air of civility. He could feel his master's gaze on him, and was determined to stay in control. If he lost himself to his baser instincts, he'd prove himself no better than a common brute. His master might even cast him aside.

That was a fate that terrified him to the core.

Affecting a smile, Vrehk replied, "An excellent suggestion, Viscount. I hope you enjoy all the food and drink House Uvanar has to offer; your talent for indulgence of the finer things is well-known."

If Kuhlvult took offense, he didn't show it. He simply said, "Well-met, young Master Chund. I'm sure we'll speak later, Zephryk." He and his wife moved on, and Vrehk glared daggers at his back.

"Concentrate on your anger," Perdition said to him in a low voice as they waited for the next guest. "Perhaps one day you will have the chance to make him suffer."

"I'd enjoy making him beg before I took his head," Vrehk whispered.

"Sometimes, it is a far sweeter form of vengeance to destroy an enemy without killing them. Every being in the galaxy has things they value: family, credits, possessions, legacy. True revenge is taking away everything they care about and seeing how it ruins them for life. Living on in an empty void is far crueler than any death."

Vrehk thought about it. He could just imagine taking away Kuhlvult's credits, his fine clothes, his family name. Everything that made him a noble, someone to be envied and obeyed. It was an image that he would keep in his mind, with the hope of bringing it about someday.

One of the last guests to arrive was also one of the most important: Meetra Kuat, head of House Kuat, Director of Kuat Drive Yards, and de facto ruler of the planet. She wore a brilliant honey-coloured gown that twinkled in the evening sunlight. Vrehk drank in her shapely form, noting the hypnotic sway of her hips and the fullness of her curves. His grandfather had commented on several occasions about the unattractiveness of humans, especially the females. Chocoth called them 'plain, unappealing'. But in Vrehk's estimation, Meetra Kuat was enchanting.

"Zephryk," she greeted, giving Perdition a peck on each cheek after he bowed to her. "Thank you once again for opening your doors to us."

"It is my pleasure, my lady," he replied.

She turned her attention to Vrehk. "So, this is the young man you've taken in. It came as a surprise that you extended such…generosity."

Suddenly remembering his manners amid his ogling, Vrehk cleared his throat and bowed. "It is a pleasure to meet you, my lady. And may I say, you look far more beautiful than your renowned ancestor, Siennala Kuat."

Kuat smirked, looking mildly impressed. "A little obvious, but I'll accept the compliment nonetheless. Being favourably compared to the most beautiful woman in our planet's history is never a bad thing. And you've clearly studied your history." Looking back at Perdition, she said, "He shows much promise, old friend. I think he'll do well here."

"Yes, he does," Perdition agreed.

"You remember my daughter, Tyria?" she said, gesturing to the girl standing beside her. Vrehk hadn't noticed her initially. Looking at her now, the resemblance was obvious. Tyria appeared to be around his age, maybe a few years older. She was pretty, dressed in a gown which matched the colour of her mother's. Her hair was arranged in fashionable curls and draped over one shoulder.

"Lady Tyria," Perdition greeted, bowing. Vrehk did the same.

"It seems your plans were not premature, after all," she added to his master. "The Harbinger was an unqualified success. Your demonstration started a bidding war like I've never seen. Even after we secure a sale, we have over a dozen corporations and thrice as many star systems clamouring to have one of their own."

"I'm pleased to hear it, my lady. I foresee entire production lines of Star Destroyers rolling out of our facilities in the future."

"That just might come to pass," she said with a mischievous twinkle in her eye. "I'm putting our primary drydocks and a great deal of resources at your disposal. For the time being, at least, Star Destroyers are the hot new commodity."

Vrehk noticed the almost imperceptible smile creeping on his master's face. "I intend to keep that fervor going."

Once they finished greeting the guests, Perdition gave a few short words welcoming everyone to his estate. He bid them all to enjoy his hospitality and to celebrate the success of his Star Destroyer. While his master conversed with Meetra Kuat and others, Vrehk spent most of the evening observing the proceedings. With RZ-87 beside him, he weaved his way in between the milling guests as they conversed and ate and drank.

Beings of many species were represented here, not just humans. Neimoidians, Quarren, Balosar, Bith, Verpine, Sluissi, Muuns, even a few Gran. Nobles and business executives and politicians; the ones who dictated the ebb and flow of trade, law, and wealth across the galaxy.

"The Force grants us immeasurable power," Perdition told him earlier that morning. "But there are many types of power. Political, financial, the measures of influence that grant even the most spineless, pathetic insect authority over planets and sectors. We Sith master use of the Force, but we also seek to acquire power in the physical realm. Our ultimate vengeance against the Republic and the Jedi will result from our ability to influence the galaxy through credits, political machination, and information brokering. Through these things, two beings with sufficient will can change the fate of an entire galaxy."

As he moved through the room, Vrehk attempted to make small talk. Most of the beings he spoke with were polite, or at least were skilled enough conversationalists to feign interest in what he had to say. Even without the Force, he could sense their unease about his appearance. He knew Devaronians, while a common enough sight across the galaxy, made others uncomfortable. Their appearance matched the devils and demons of thousands of mythologies.

Vrehk smiled inwardly. If these people were uncomfortable around him now, then how would they react to learning of his aspirations to become Sith? His increasing grasp of the Dark Side made him a predator, an elevated spirit among flesh and blood mortals. He might as well have been a demon. He smiled as he watched a mixed group of Bith and Muuns. He may be a demon, born of hatred and pain, yet one with a pleasant mask.

All the better to lull his unsuspecting prey into letting their guard down.

"Hello," a quiet voice said. He turned to see Tyria Kuat standing beside him, absent her mother. She gave him a pensive smile. "Vrehk, right?"

"Yes."

"I wonder if you find these galas as boring as I do," she said, glancing around the room. "Mother insists I attend them all, since I'm going to inherit KDY from her one day. But she always spends them talking while I feel like a useless decoration."

Spotting an opportunity, Vrehk said, "If you'd like, we could walk arm-in-arm for the evening. I imagine that would create a nice little scandal among all these puffed up dandies. It'd make this more interesting, at least."

She chewed her lower lip in thought. "Alright, let's do it. Maybe I can be the centre of attention this time."

Vrehk offered her his arm, which she took with a dignified nod.

He'd sunk his fangs into his first victim.


After giving a short speech welcoming everyone to his home, Uvanar performed the customary duties as host. He mingled, sipping from fine wines as he humoured every mouth-breathing flesh bag in attendance. All the while he bore a welcoming smile. He suffered this invasion of his privacy because it suited his ends. Forming connections among the elite had been essential to the Grand Plan ever since the reign of Darth Vyrusius, the Bothan successor of Darth Cognus.

In between conversations, Uvanar kept a surreptitious eye on his apprentice. This was a test of Vrehk's social skills as well as his ability to conceal his inner darkness. In order to succeed as a Dark Lord of the Sith, the boy would have to learn the subtle arts of manipulation, persuasion, and intimidation.

A whispered word in a politician's ear could do more damage than 1,000 Force Storms.

Thus far, Vrehk was doing well. Uvanar could plainly see the discomfort many of the guests felt. Devaronians were a duplicitous race by nature, and their physical appearances prompted revulsion and fear. His apprentice would have to master subtle charm and conversation to overcome those pre-existing biases.

Over the last few years, Perdition had felt a growing pride at Vrehk's progress. The boy showed the potential to become a mighty Sith Lord one day. The process was not unlike a parent rearing a child to maturity. Briac had been well into adulthood when Perdition inducted him into the Sith. Their dynamic had been that of equals. But Vrehk had been a child when he'd taken him as an apprentice. The delineations of master and apprentice were far more apparent. Perdition's own father had tried to stifle his talents, force him to act as a mundane. He felt no small measure of satisfaction at the knowledge that he was a far better mentor and father-figure than the unlamented Duke Klodiam.

After speaking with a delegate from Fondor, Uvanar discreetly sent a signal to some of his service droids. They would deliver his message to those he wished to meet with.

An hour after sunset, he retired to a spacious sitting room in the estate's east wing. A large fireplace dominated the far wall, and a number of cushioned chairs were placed throughout. Uvanar stood by the fireplace, staring at the flames as they danced across the logs. He admired the inherent perfection of fire. It existed only to destroy, yet it also gave warmth and comfort. Like the Sith, it created life by cleansing the old in favour of the new. The flames licked at the air as they slowly consumed the logs. Uvanar's eyes gleamed with their beautiful light. He started to reach out to touch it with his bare hand when the door opened.

He turned to see the severe expression of Countess Rozim as she entered the room. Behind her came Navu Tinresh, one of Nujji the Hutt's lieutenants and her representative for the festivities. A Mirialan, he had dark green skin and a shaved scalp. A series of grid-like tattoos ran up his face, and a pair of long scars ran up his cheeks from the edges of his mouth to create a feral grin.

After them entered a Skakoan official of the Techno Union, an armoured Mandalorian with a fearsome Zakkeg emblazoned on his shoulder pauldron, along with a dozen others. They locked the door behind them and each took a seat or stood by the walls. Like the other guests in the ballroom, they were important figures. Bankers, merchants, corporate executives, even the head of a mercenary clan and the president of a prestigious university. But unlike the others, the present group all belonged to a secret fraternity created nearly half a century ago.

When Perdition's master, Darth Umbris, had still been an apprentice, he'd been given a directive by his Ithorian master: court receptive members of the elite into the confidence of the Sith. For centuries the successors of Darth Bane had been building an immense network of informants and shadow operatives across the galaxy. But Darth Umbris' master wanted a more direct influence, what some would consider a cult of devotees. Perdition's grandmother had been one of the earliest.

Now, decades later, the fraternity answered to Perdition.

"Welcome, my friends," he greeted. "It has been quite a while since we were all together under one roof. In these times of uncertainty and the empty promises of peace, it pleases me greatly to know you all continue to share one vision."

"We are honoured to be of service, Duke," the Skakoan said. The vocalizer built into his bulky pressure suit gave off a low whine, and he turned a pair of dials to correct the problem.

The Mandalorian standing in the corner pounded a fist over his heart. "Your vision is our vision: a galaxy cleansed of weakness through bloodshed."

"Only then can all prosper," Countess Rozim said, her usual biting tone absent.

Perdition nodded. With confident steps, he walked over to a painting hanging on a wall. Painted by a renowned artist from the Empress Teta system, it depicted the orange sands and sharp mountain ranges of the Sith birthplace of Korriban. Called 'Tomb of the Ages', the painting had passed between private collectors and Sith fetishists for centuries. He moved it aside, revealing a hidden depression in the wall. Within were a large gold chalice, etched with script of the old Sith language, and a ceremonial dagger used by Inquisitors of the Reconstituted Sith Empire of Emperor Vitiate.

Taking both items in hand, Perdition walked back to the fireplace. Placing the chalice on the mantle, he held one hand over it and used the dagger to slice his left thumb. After three drops of blood dripped into it, he held it out to Countess Rozim. She took the dagger and repeated the act, adding her own blood. One by one, each of the fraternity bled into the chalice. Perdition then held it high and began chanting in the language of the Sith. The others joined him, uttering profane prayers and invoking the thrice-damned spirits once worshipped by the red-skinned denizens of Korriban.

They carried on for the next few hours. Many of them only involved themselves in these acts out of a juvenile need to act out, to engage in the forbidden. Sith practices had been declared illegal by the Republic and the Jedi ever since the end of the New Sith Wars. Yet, there were always those willing to purchase artifacts or engage in illicit conversations with like-minded people.

Perdition let them think they only indulged a dark fantasy. The truth of it was that, bit by bit, he brought them further under his influence. One way or another, they would serve the aims of the Sith.

When they finished, he poured the blood in the chalice into the fire. The ceremonial cleansing ended, and the others left without a word. Their participation had bound them to each other in a union as strong as durasteel. Perdition would call on each of them for future tasks, and they would answer. He had them wrapped around his finger. Their wills were subservient to his, though they maintained the stubborn illusion of independence.

The gala eventually drew to a close. Uvanar and Vrehk bid each guest farewell, looking nothing more than a powerful man and his orphaned ward.

"Did you accomplish what you sought, master?" Vrehk asked.

Perdition nodded. "Know this, apprentice. Force of arms can only accomplish so much. The conquest of planets and star systems is a short-sighted use of our power. But by influencing the right beings, we can direct the course of history forevermore."


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