Much appreciation for those who reviewed and sent messages for the previous chapter. I've actually started to contemplate whether I should go back after this story is finished posting and do a thorough edit of the entire Veneficus trilogy, highlighting those places that were not expressly my best writing. I would appreciate thoughts on this matter, whether I should edit and repost the entire story, perhaps adding in more detail and sharpening some of the early work that was when I was significantly less skilled as a writer (in my opinion). Hoping for much feedback on that idea, on with the next chapter! ~F
Chapter Thirty One
Desperation
Diábolis groggily awoke, feeling the tremendous pressure and pain of a literal ton of rubble crushing him. Pinned, he couldn't move any part of his body, and was genuinely unsure why he was alive in this situation. He knew that Veneficus had to be gravely wounded by his attacks, and with no legitimate means of regenerating his body, the madman would die eventually, but the old Sith Lord had defeated him.
How then was he still alive? Allowing the Force to rush through him Diábolis threw the rubble off of him, and standing quickly, Diábolis examined himself. Despite the intense pain, as though he had been crushed completely, there was not a single injury or bruise on him.
Puzzled by this, Diábolis extricated himself from the remaining rubble and examined the remainder of the room. Veneficus was gone, unsurprisingly, but he had left a great deal behind. Out of everything, the Scepter of Ragnos lay there on the ground, cast aside and forgotten. The metal blade that Veneficus had used, and contained all the power from the scepter, lay next to the remaining part of its frame.
The fact that Veneficus would leave behind his most prized artifact told Diábolis just how badly he had harmed the man. Diábolis gathered the item, sheathing the blade back into the scepter, and felt the strength of the Dark Side course through the artifact.
It would be a powerful tool for establishing his reign over the Galaxy once Veneficus was good and dead. The problem therein was, now that the Emperor was gravely injured and on the run, Diábolis had no idea where he might have gone.
However… glancing at the two artifacts of power around him, Diábolis had a thought of how he could locate his old master's whereabouts and destination. Stepping toward the central golden orb that represented the nigh unlimited Force energy of the Valley, he pointed the Scepter of Ragnos at it, allowing the power of the Force in each to merge and wash over him. Casting his mind outward, seeking the threads of the Master-Apprentice bond that was unbreakable between the two Sith Lords, Diábolis dove headfirst into the nexus of power around him.
His vision swam with the ebb and flow of the Galaxy. Diábolis saw and heard many things. He saw Coruscant, the prime jewel of the Galaxy, swimming in a toxic gas that would serve to liberate the world from Imperial control for many generations. Dromund Kaas fell back into the jungle ruins that it had been for millennia, with a dark power living in secret at its core.
Diábolis understood. The Empire was already on the brink of failure, and it was Veneficus who had caused his own structure to crumble beneath him. There would be nothing left for Diábolis to inherit once he defeated his master.
That angered Diábolis, and he narrowed his focus and will. Veneficus would not escape his wrath now. The vision shifted, and Diábolis saw the jungle world of Dathomir, the shadows parting as a ship would sometime soon land upon its surface.
Within the heart of the jungle, something sinister pulsed with tremendous power, and that something was what the Emperor would seek, in order to achieve another opportunity to annihilate the Galaxy in his mad desires.
Diábolis could now allow that to happen. Withdrawing from the vision with a burst of will, he knew where he had to go to pursue Veneficus, and not until the man lay dead at his feet could the Sith Order move on.
They would have to sink back into the shadows once more, and Diábolis had the feeling that it would be even more difficult for them to maneuver into a position to take over the Galaxy once more. But Diábolis would cross that bridge when he arrived at it. Because of Veneficus, he would never rule the Galaxy, but Diábolis was prepared to begin again the Rule of Two and set the Sith once again on the path toward total control of the Republic.
He was under every impression that the Republic would return. His vision had shown him enough to come to that conclusion. And Veneficus still held the key to the Sith's survival in this renewed golden age that would return for the Jedi and their allies.
Walking carefully, his confidence in his pristine and unharmed condition swelling as he went, Diábolis made his way out of the ritual area of the Valley of the Jedi, quickly locating his shuttle, and the absence of the other ship that the Emperor had to have used for his escape.
Ignoring the body of the pilot that he had killed what felt like years ago, the Devaronian boarded the ramp and activated the engines, lifting off without preamble. He programmed the destination of Dathomir, using the swiftest route possible to take him there. Through his hidden sources, the same that had discovered the rebel's poison, he had acquired much of their resources regarding the alternative Hyperspace routes, and he was impressed that some of them were quite elaborate, and allowed him to cut a great deal of time off the typically roundabout route to the overgrown jungle world.
He doubted that he would beat his old master to the planet, but he would be in time to intervene if he was to try anything, or even arrive at the same time depending on how long the man took in detours and stops for his failing body.
'Odd,' Diábolis mused as he watched the ship enter Hyperspace. He had always imagined that their final duel would be either in the royal palaces of Dromund Kaas or Coruscant proper, surrounded by onlookers that would herald Diábolis publicly the rightful successor of the Emperor. But it seemed that it was not to be, and instead of glory and honor he would have a lifetime of work ahead of him to piece together what would shatter around them because of the selfishness of Veneficus.
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Ronald Weasley had seen and done many things in his lifetime. But facing down the most massive super ship in the Galaxy in an understaffed, cobbled together cruiser with his remaining trusted friends and companions was not what he had ever expected to be his final moments.
And yet here he was, with the Terrasque bearing down on their position, and shields dangerously in the red. "Throw everything we have at that monster of a ship," he ordered, glaring with unflinching focus at the holographic display of the battlefield, searching for something, anything, that might give them an opening.
The hulking ship seemed to have been built with no flaw in its defenses whatsoever. Overlapping shields, as well as stolen technology from their war-time repertoire, constantly cycled to prevent their attacks from even scratching the hull of the massive beast. It could sit there and pound them for days without even needing a break.
Mentally, he ran through all the experimental weapons that they had on board. The Director had made sure that they were well equipped for nearly all contingencies, and in turn they had brought as much as they dared onto the Imperial ship for the rescue attempt. The problem was that they were mostly built for escaping danger of this magnitude, not holding out or trying to actually take down such a massive ship.
Nevertheless, he knew that there had to be something that could give them an edge, or at least make the commander of that super ship have pause against snuffing them out.
"Admiral," an ensign at the communications station shouted, "Commander Flitwick has sent a message, they are nearly here to reinforce us."
Ronald nodded in response. There was little that the last, ragtag ships of their fleet would be able to help them with here, but it was reassuring notwithstanding the danger. "Fire experimental torpedoes 23-B," he said, eyes widening with realization.
They had a chance. It was something so absolutely new that the Imperials couldn't possibly have prepared a defense for it. "Target the bridge, and fire!" he shouted, watching the blue streaks of the missiles fly outward from their front-facing batteries.
There was only a half dozen of the experimental missles among the volley, mixed in with many normal torpedoes, just to confuse the point defense system that the massive ship had, more stolen tech from their side. Half of the missiles were torn to shreds before they even reached the shields of the Terrasque, but of those that made it at least three were the special new torpedoes.
"Take that you bastards," Ronald said to himself, even as the magical EMP charges detonated on contact with the shields, rocking the massive hull slightly and negating their defenses.
"Open fire with everything we have! I want as much flak on that ship before they get their shields up again, then repeat. We have to do as much damage to them before Commander Flitwick arrives!" he shouted to his crew, even as they cheered at the small victory over the most powerful ship in the Imperial Navy.
Missiles and turbo laser fire flashed out from their ship, spraying across the exposed hull of the Terrasque, and scaring the reinforced armor that protected the internal parts of the ship. Ronald knew that they had precious little time before the shields reestablished, and he nodded, signaling to their officers to fire experimental weapons.
They did so, launching a barrage of bizarre and strange projectiles. Even Ronald did not know what they all did, but the handful of Magi-tech scientists that were assigned to their crew had intimate knowledge of their pet projects. The Admiral didn't care, if one or more of them inflicted damage on the ship they were fighting, he would be appreciative.
"Shields reengaging, Admiral!" another officer called, and Ron nodded, "move to escape their retaliatory strike, and fire another barrage of EMP missiles," he ordered. The game had only just begun. They had a strategy now, and it was only a matter of surviving long enough to see the behemoth before them taken down.
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Fury had studied the insane chatter that had erupted across all Imperial channels. The Emperor had vanished, and the rebels were now attacking Coruscant, hoping to take control of the center of their former Republic once more.
What was more, all communication with Dromund Kaas had ceased, and a massive fleet was moving to support the defense of the Galactic center. Diábolis had also fallen off the radar of chatter, which infuriated the Marauder.
Everything in the Empire seemed to be crumbling around them, with various governors and system leaders crying out for aid as their people started a mass revolt, almost spurred on by the rebel attack on Coruscant.
"With this, the Empire is ruined." He said to himself, still scanning the mass of voices for anything that would help him. If the rumors were to be believed, Sith Master and Apprentice had killed each other and they had been left leaderless.
Shutting off the holoprojector tuned into the mass network, Fury seethed inwardly. Everything that he had striven to accomplish seemed futile now. An entire life, from Jedi Padawan to Sith warlord all wasted. In his anger, he determined that he would do one thing before disappearing from the sights of the Galaxy. He would avenge himself on Zhar Quelmok, his old master, if it was the last thing he did.
The man wanted to hide in his new holdings on Dromund Kaas, then Fury would raise the Imperial Capital to the ground in order to find and kill him. "Admiral, set our course for Dromund Kaas. I suspect that they are planning to seize control of the Empire for themselves," he said, knowing that it would take little to convince his men to fight against their own.
In the meantime, Fury started planning a long campaign to flush out Zhar from his palace. Establishing control of space around the planet was paramount, and while the Imperial Central Station was the hub of all communication in the Empire, it had to be taken by Fury, or else destroyed to sever any chance of Zhar from calling for aid.
Blandly, he realized that it would also sever all Imperial communication throughout the Galaxy, and therefore lend further to the destabilization of the Empire, but in his rage he did not care. Zhar would die, or else Fury would die in the attempt. And he had a ship full of warriors versus a planet that had sent its military away to fight the rebels.
"Calamity," he said into his communicator, "prepare the Black Fist, we have work to do, and traitors to slay…"
"Yes, my Master…" the Troll replied, and Fury sensed the flutter of activity as his warriors prepared for battle.
"Prepare for us, Zhar… I am coming for you…" the Marauder said, casting his mind ahead to the fire and bloodshed that was to come. He did not care anymore for the Empire, it was already burning. He would feel the satisfaction of overcoming his former mentor, and anything afterward did not matter.
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Ist was not prepared for the massive explosion from the ventilation system when the Director intoned her spell. Gas flooded the room, and the two females fell back. In a flash, a bubble of clean air surrounded Director Granger's head, but Ist new that this would only slow the poison.
Indeed she fell back and collapsed against the far wall. Glancing around, Ist used the Force to slam the hatch back in place on the vent, preventing any more of the gas to enter, and shifted the air around them to force the gas out of the room.
"Look…" the Director said, her voice weak. Ist glanced at the screen that the Mage-born was indicating, and she saw the gas exploding out of the top of the Temple, and washing over the city sector around them.
"That will kill most of the clones, and greatly injure the rest," Hermione said, pausing to cough.
Ist was shocked with how fast the poison was killing her. She rushed to Hermione's side, working the Force to see what healing she could achieve, but the damage the poison caused was insanely precise. It targeted the victim on the cellular level, and outpaced any attempts that Ist had to repair the damaged cells.
"I can't save you…" she said dejectedly.
Hermione placed a hand on the Bothan's head, "It's alright…" she wheezed, blood trickling out of her mouth, shrouded as it was by the bubble of magic around her head. Her voice echoed slightly as she spoke, "I would gladly give my life to restore the Republic. The Emperor and his guards cannot come here anymore. The poison will merge with the atmosphere, and linger for years to come. Warn the other Mage-born to stay away, for their own safety. It's up to the Jedi to take command here."
"I understand, Director," Ist said, tears forming in her eyes.
"Promise me, that the Republic will return, and last well beyond all this darkness and gloom." Hermione begged, closing her eyes tiredly.
"I will see to it," Ist promised, watching the chest of the rebel leader slow and finally stop. It was eerie how peacefully she perished, while the clones had thrashed and wailed in their deaths. Apparently, the mental will of the genius engineer was enough for her to accept the concept of her own death. The bubble dissipated as she died, the last of her magic washing away.
Ist bowed her head, wishing that the Force would carry the brave and intelligent woman gently into itself. But she did not have the time at this moment to mourn. She had to carry out the woman's final order, and lead the remaining rebels to victory here on Coruscant, so that they could reestablish the Republic.
Exiting the room, the last remaining Jedi Knight turned to her, "the gas worked, all the clones in the temple are dead," he said, and Ist nodded.
"We need to go out and rally the rebels into the temple." She said, and they set off through the deserted and body strewn corridors. Ist had sorely underestimated how many of the clones had been running through the halls, and there were points where she spotted the black armor of a royal Arcanamach fallen in the act of fighting the rampaging clones.
Hermione had sacrificed herself to stop a force that would go after even the other servants of their master. A true dooms-day army that needed to be stopped.
They exited the temple, and found the small group of remaining troopers and Jedi that had held the front of the temple, all looking into the sky. Looking up as well, Ist cringed as she spotted the hulking shape of the Imperial super ship: The Terrasque.
And, looking like a fly in the face of a lion, the stolen Imperial ship that the rebels had claimed in their attack, and had loaded with everything they could scramble together for the rescue of their leader, stood in its path to the planet.
"We need to get everyone inside the temple," Ist said, urging those around her to tear their eyes from the space battle above, "and raise the shields over the location, and the planet."
Slowly, the group started to obey, carrying the wounded and dragging supplies from the shuttles into the temple, and sealing the massive doors to the outside.
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Zhar sat in meditation with his two High Prophets, at the highest point of the former Imperial Palace of Dromund Kaas, now coined between the three of them as the temple of the Dark Side. All their military forces and most of those that were utterly loyal to Veneficus had been sent to fight at Coruscant, and together they had foreseen their downfall.
By and large, the three of them had full control of the system, and were preparing for that which was to come. Zhar knew of the one threat that still loomed over them. Fury was coming to slay him, in light of the destabilization of the Empire and the disappearance of the Emperor.
"They will destroy the space station," Euka said, deep in the flow of the Force alongside Zhar and Jol.
The Duro added, "In doing so they will sever all Imperial communications, isolating our world for many years from the rest of the Galaxy."
"Which is what we desired above all else," Zhar finished, feeling the line of the future waver and throb in the Force as they probed and examined it in depth. Through records that he had found, Zhar had learned of the powers of group meditation, and the ability for multiple Dark Side users to accurately predict and manipulate the future.
They had been enthralled to this form of meditation for days now, perfecting it and observing the rest of the failing Empire from afar.
"The man is a fool, and will attempt to lay siege to our world, slaying the remainder of those that would not join with us, and throwing away many of his soldiers to our preparations." Euka continued, peeling away the shroud of the future with great ease. She above the three of them had taken to this skill the fastest, and often was the lead in their meditations.
"Preparations that we need to make now in order to inflict as much damage as possible, and force Fury to face us himself, so that he might at last learn his place, and be removed from our mutual side as the thorn he is." Zhar said, pulling them back to reality. The only downside of the oracle ability was the addictive nature of it. It took a sheer force of will to extricate them from the trance, and Zhar could tell that it would grow steadily harder the more they used it.
"I will handle the station, and organize it to force the attackers to waste much of their energy destroying it," Jol said, his voice calmer and more reserved than before they had started diving deeply into the future.
"And I will see to rigging the city into a deathtrap for their land forces." Euka added, and Zhar nodded his acknowledgement.
"I will prepare a goading broadcast to lure Fury in personally, and make him charge recklessly into the traps, before preparing myself mentally for the fight that is to come."
"Do not underestimate him," Euka warned, "he is younger and stronger than you, even if he is a fool. His physical strength is still a great threat to us."
Zhar nodded. He did not need the added warning, but they had all been seeing the level of strength that Fury would unleash in his attempt at petty revenge. They separated, and Zhar descended to the communication chamber, and quickly opened a communication with the approaching fleet.
The officer who answered widened his eyes in surprise at seeing the Supreme Prophet of the Dark Side, but before he could speak or react the man was shoved aside by Fury, the metallic-armed monster glaring angrily at Zhar through the holographic projector.
"I know you are coming," Zhar said evenly, his tone muted and calm from the hours of communal meditation, "And I urge you to rethink your plan. We have become more powerful than you know, and will defeat any force that you throw at us in your rage."
"You have no forces wherewith to prevent it, so forgive me if I find your threat hard to believe," Fury replied, and his stubborn anger was easy enough to predict even without foresight.
"So be it," Zhar replied, "throw away your soldier's lives if you must. It's always been something you've excelled at…"
"Don't you dare mock me!" Fury shouted, his easily provoked anger overflowing.
Zhar ignored him, and ended the communication. The bait was set, and Fury would come flying in without even a second thought of his men's safely. Those fanatically loyal to him would perish, and those with wiser minds would abandon him the moment he left their ship.
Pulling out his communicator, Zhar contacted the others, "He is spurred on his course."
"Good," Jol stated, "I have arrived at the station, and will be programming its automated defenses shortly for full battle mode."
"Most of the strategic buildings are now emptied," Euka added, "and I have demolition teams and other troopers manning them, with orders to destroy the buildings if it means eliminating their opposition."
"Then we are nearly prepared." Zhar affirmed, "I will retire, and prepare myself for the coming conflict."
"Very good, Supreme Prophet," Jol replied, and they ended the call.
Zhar withdrew back to the top floor of the temple, drawing his saber hilt and sinking into a deep personal meditation. He needed to conserve and gather as much energy in the Force as he could, as fighting Fury in pure marshal tactics would be the death of him. Strategy and an ample amount of the Force would be required to secure a final victory in the coming duel.
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Veneficus stumbled out of the shuttle, still trying to gain his balance with the lack of an eye. The tiny tomb world had long lost any name in recent history. The planet itself was so small it might have been considered an asteroid with a limited atmosphere, requiring the use of an oxygen mask. But the underground tomb was quite elaborate, from what Veneficus sensed.
He had forbidden this world for others to set foot on regardless, knowing that there was a fair few in the Empire that were tampering with powers far too great for their pathetic purposes in his grand design. All that was in ruins now, and Veneficus needed the knowledge that waited deep within.
While the tomb lacked the opulence of those on Korriban, there was a suitable level of detail and design present as Veneficus entered the cavernous opening to the massive cave network. Hieroglyphics lined the walls, painting a clear and unabashedly overblown picture of the ancient Sith that was entombed here.
Details of the being's life were supposed represented there, and as Veneficus wound himself deeper, the more he seriously doubted their authenticity. There had been no incursion of a magic based society in the Galaxy before, and yet there was a depiction of this Sith Lord blocking what was clearly spells with the merest wave of his hand.
The final chamber was sealed by a massive door, showcasing the most ludicrous scenario he had witnessed yet. The Sith was destabilizing a moon out of its orbit with the Force alone. "Absurd…" Veneficus muttered aloud. He embodied the greatest achievement that the Sith in any age had every reached, and while he did not doubt that gravity itself would have bent to his will at his height, there was no chance that another had reached the same level of power before him.
The audacity of the mural was that the depiction of the moon had to be moved in order to open the door to open, adding more to the self aggrandizement of the entombed Sith within.
Entering in a swirl of dust and stale air, Veneficus quickly scanned the rather traditional tomb chamber. The sarcophagus was a clear choice for the information that he sought, but there were urns and other items scattered about on pedestals throughout the chamber.
It only took a single careful circle around the chamber revealed that there was no openly findable repository of knowledge. That left the sarcophagus.
Without even pausing, Veneficus removed the lid with the Force. What he found was more of a surprise than he had expected.
There was no mummified corpse. While not completely unusual, as many Sith were not interred in their specific tombs, there was indeed a Holocron waiting within.
There might be answers there to the mystery, and even more for the ritual that he needed to preserve his life. If there was any way to utilize the Light side of the Force without giving up the Dark, he needed to know it in full.
Lifting the tiny pyramid out of the empty tomb, Veneficus allowed the Force to flow through him into the device, activating it as he turned to depart from the cavern system. He had little time to actually interrogate the Gatekeeper of the Holocron, and had to make sure that he was on his way to Dathomir as swiftly as possible.
"Who disturbs the rest of this, the Holocron of Darth Thanatos?" the human gatekeeper said, throwing back the black hood of his holographic robes.
Veneficus rolled his eye at the theatrics. It was a clear flaw of the old technology. Holocrons never permitted themselves to actually declare themselves the same being as the individual that created them.
"Darth Veneficus, Sith Emperor of the Neo-Sith Empire, commands you to reveal the secrets you possess to me." Veneficus declared. Most Holocrons of a pre-Revan nature were more than willing to give up their secrets without any sort of fuss, but he wasn't willing to take the chance of the Gatekeeper finding him unworthy.
"Of course, Majesty," the holographic figure said, bowing slightly in mock reverence, "how can this one be of assistance to such a being of great strength and power?"
"The ritual of regeneration, which required the combination of Light and Dark," Veneficus said, narrowing the information that the Gatekeeper would search through in order to answer him, "If one cannot acquire a Force user of the Light to willingly assist them, can possession be an acceptable alternative?"
"You refer to using the Essence Tranfer in order to control a Lightsider to regenerate your own body, and then repossessing the original?" the Gatekeeper asked, looking thoughtful. "It may work. Darth Thanatos planned much along those lines of seeking immortality, before simply relegating to Essence Transfer alone, because of the risk of instant death from becoming disembodied."
Veneficus was silent, knowing that that risk was null for him. He had means of anchoring himself to the living Galaxy, and none would be able to banish him to the netherworld while it existed.
"But would it work," he insisted, even as he exited the cave network and made for the shuttle.
"In theory it could, but you'd have to tap into the fading consciousness of the sacrifice before they were utterly destroyed, and work quickly to harness their connection to the light before your own darkness snuffed them out of existence." The Gatekeeper mused.
"So there is a chance…" Veneficus said, solidifying his intentions.
"What more do you desire of me?" the Gatekeeper asked again, thinking it's initial request complete.
Veneficus started up the shuttle, and set it to autopilot to Dathomir, before considering. There wasn't much to do while he waited, so he might as well indulge his curiosity. "What was the final fate of Darth Thanatos? Where is he truly entombed?"
"He lives." The Gatekeeper replied instantly.
"Impossible, tell me the truth," Veneficus retorted with a snort. The man would have to be thousands of years old in order to be living.
"I do not lie, he lives…" the figure insisted.
"Then how did he manage that feat?" Veneficus said, still doubtful, but wondering.
"That information was not stored. Darth Thanatos himself placed this receptacle into the tomb before departing for a voyage out of the Galaxy. He sought other worlds and to explore the cosmos, to find a place where the Dark Side ruled with absolute authority, without the petty squabbling and infighting that existed here."
"So, he was weak, and decided to flee instead of fight for his right to rule here…" Veneficus said with finality. "Just another gifted fool, unwilling to use his gifts for their proper purpose…"
Veneficus wasn't sure if the information was accurate. Gatekeepers tended to have a portion of their creator's personality imbued into them, and if this Thanatos was a liar, then potentially so was the Gatekeeper. The real information would not be possible to shroud to one of any real power in the Dark Side. That went against the programming and design of the Sith Holocron.
Therefore, Veneficus dismissed the information about the other Sith Lord. Even if true, then there was no usefulness that this Thanatos would be to Veneficus. Either Thanatos was dead or else was well beyond anyone's reach. And even if he were, the show of weakness to contact another for help would be devastating to the Emperor's self image.
Turning his attention back to the task at hand, and the future that was in his grasp, Veneficus scowled. Lovegood would not be easy to take control of, with Gor-lak residing inside her as well. Veneficus knew that his punishment had been perfect for the pair of them, but now with the different circumstances he wished that he had just captured the Jedi and kept her for torment himself.
There was also Diábolis, shining with a radiant level of power chasing after him, and Veneficus knew that his former apprentice had used the Valley of the Jedi to see where he was going and what he planned. Their movements had gone beyond the subtle, and currently he was trying to trap Veneficus and defeat him in the end.
It was problematic, but Veneficus had a level of confidence that he would be able to capture the being that Lovegood and Gor-lak had become, destroy his former apprentice, and finally reclaim his own healed and empowered body. Then, after all else was complete, he would return and finish the immortality ritual he had started, and everything would be as it ought to have been.
"Will it really be that easy?" Millennial said, appearing and clearly having eavesdropped on Veneficus' thoughts.
"What choice do I have?" the Emperor retorted.
"None," Millennial admitted, "but you've underestimated them all once, to your suffering. I am merely warning you not to make the same mistake."
"She is of no concern to me now," Veneficus said hotly, "Everything is perfectly in hand, and I will see victory blossom before me."
"Will you now?" Millennial said, sounding doubtful. But before Veneficus could snap back at the ghost of his former master, Millennial faded away into the Force, leaving him alone once more.
Seething from the condensation of his long dead mentor, Veneficus looked to the future, allowing his rage to fuel the Force around him, and peer with one good eye into the shrouded mysteries that awaited him.
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A tremor in the Force rippled across the world of Dathomir, now barren and devoid of sentient life, bar one. The creature lifted its head from the dirt. Such agony had been wracking it over the past indeterminate period, a racking torment that tore at the foundation of its being. But now, the tormentor was returning, and they were united in one all-surpassing goal.
Revenge…
The figure laughed as it stood, the sound echoing and being reverberated by some dark sinister force behind the vocalization. Minds that had blended together had lost nearly all semblance of the time when they had been separate entities, dueling over control of the singular body, each giving ground only when their shared life was threatened.
Now they were one in purpose, and one in form. And they would need a name for themselves. Reaching back into their shared past memories, one of the pair drifting far farther than the other, the being sought for something that would explain their existence; a choice title for their pain and hatred.
That which came to meet them once more was oft called the Darkness by the younger of the twin memories. How apt that they would meet darkness with darkness, and thus a name was formed. From an ancient, dead people and language, the name of darkness was taken for their shared suffering.
And added to that was the prospects that they held for the future. Others would come to them in due time, a future of young acolytes that would strive for their mutual approval, like a child to a parent. They would therefore adapt the most caring of titles, and hone these wandering children into weapons for their war against the Sith.
"I am Mother… Mother Talzin…" the female figure spoke, understanding flowing into the feminine form.
Rising to her feet, Talzin felt her strength returning and understood the peril coming for her.
"Veneficus…" she hissed, the echoing darkness of her power radiating around her. The hated Sith Lord was coming to finish her off for his own mad desires. And yet, there was another daring to come to the world that Talzin would claim as her own.
"Interesting…" she mused, "the master and the apprentice had a falling out…"
If they wanted to bring their personal vendetta here, she would create a battlefield worthy of their skill and vile power. Diving deeply into the magic that she held from both memories, Talzin expelled forth the green mist of her power, "Rise!" she chanted, "Rise, fallen ones, and serve me in death!"
The green mist of her magic flooded over the planet, and Talzin felt the corpses of the fallen stagger back to their feet all across the world. An army of the dead, at her command against the fool that sought her death.
She must prepare for the Sith's arrival. "Marshal at the hidden caves!" she intoned, sending out a singular command to her army, and turned to walk through the dense and deserted undergrowth. The caves were not far, and she had time enough to conjure an appearance worthy of her vaunted soon-to-be guests.
Inside the caves, she observed her own reflection in the pools therein. Where once there had been a clear radiance of the Light side of the Force, all was gone. Pale white skin seemed stretched over bones that had elongated and altered to house both manifestations of magic within her. Her hair had all fallen out and was long gone in the wind. Fingers, claw-like and long twined easily through the air as she conjured raiment appropriate for her visitors.
Crimson cloth appeared, and slowly wrapped itself around her naked form, billowing and moving on the ethereal wind of her magic. The color felt appropriate for the dark enemy that sought to face her once more. They would find more than they bargained with in Talzin.
Veneficus sought a Light side Jedi in his search, but all he would find is what he had left behind: the greatest of all Dark Witches that the Galaxy had ever seen.
And Talzin would prove that her magic was greater than the vaunted Force power of the Sith Emperor, and triumph over him once and for all. Vengeance was her to be had, on every atrocity that the sick creature had wrought in his unbearable long and destructive life.