:: Chapter Fifty Three ::
A tender breeze carried sorrowful melodies through the Wilds of Odessen and up the hill where Eliza watched from a distance. Sky-high flames rose from the pyre that burned away the vessel once holding Arcann's spirit and soul, casting a red glow over his grieving mother who sung the song of her people and faith.
Theron's arm snaked around Eliza's middle and he held her to him. There was barely another sound to be heard. The creatures of the forest had traded their usual chirps and croaks in for a reverent silence, and only the odd crackle of the fire accompanied Senya's harmonies.
With her free hand, Eliza tightened her grip on the drawing she'd taken from Arcann's sketchbook and tipped her chin up, watching the last of the flames until the pyre fizzled out. A part of her wanting nothing more than to apologize to Senya once again but she held off—it would be a selfish pursuit to ease her own conscience. Senya deserved to see her minor wishes respected and be left free of further confrontation.
"That was quite beautiful," whispered Theron once they made their way back down the hill to the base.
"Mm yes."
"Did it help?"
"I'm letting go." She folded the drawing back up and tucked it into her pocket. "Mostly."
"Sana-Rae's private vessel stands ready to depart. Are you sure it's wise to let them leave?"
"I trust they won't betray our location and soon, it won't matter."
He nodded thoughtfully. "Will you be able to fight, with that dampener back around your ankle?"
"I can still swing a sword, I just don't have my powers, but I don't intend to wear it once we reach Zakuul."
"What about our... son?" It still felt so odd to be talking about his own child.
A child he hadn't planned for and one he'd never expected to have. Only once in his life had he paused to consider the notion of becoming a father but it had been cast from his mind quick. Lord Scourge's request to raise Cyara as his own daughter still sat fresh on Theron's mind as well but he had no answers.
"Hopefully, the summoning of Lord Dramath will give us a way to defeat Vitiate before I take the throne," Eliza said.
"And you're positive this dampener keeps him at bay?"
"No. His silence during my stay on Zakuul could have been a coincidence. He could have been too exhausted from whichever protection he offered on Nathema but, it's the best I've got right now."
Again Theron nodded but he felt of little use in this situation. He believed he couldn't help her with the summoning of Lord Dramath and there was nothing he could do to protect his son. A Force-sensitive son no less, according to Lord Scourge—how would he ever make for an adequate father?
"Is there anything I can do?" he asked regardless but Eliza shook her head.
"There isn't much anyone can do until we summon him, and you have a lot on your mind too with Jace."
Theron scoffed, "He's the least of my concerns and after what he told me, I'm not sure I ever want to see him again."
They took the elevator down to the hangar bay where Lord Cytharat's family waited. "I'm actually surprised you're so calm after hearing about his plans."
"He's lucky those plans were never realized," she muttered in a bitter tone.
"Did you get in touch with Vowrawn?"
"Yes, he has invited my grandparents to a safe house on Dromund Kaas along with the little ones. The Cytharats will be joining them. It's safer there now that he is in charge of the Empire and we'll soon have the fleet."
"That's a relief." Theron flashed half a smile and let her go.
She said her goodbye to the family and handed them gifts and letters for her daughter. Reminded them of the fact Cyara didn't know yet that Lord Scourge was alive and that she wanted to keep it that way until his future was secured.
"You've been quiet the past days," Jonas observed when he joined his best friend and watched the Sith clan say their farewells. "Is it Malcom?"
"In part."
The raven-haired spy quirked a brow. "But?"
"Eliza's pregnant," sighed Theron and he told Jonas everything—from the unexpected news to the concerns he held—and the latter fought hard to keep any smart ass remarks to himself.
"You worry too much. More than anything, a kid needs parents who love him yeah? Everything else comes second. So what if you can't shoot lightning from your fingertips?"
"It's more than that."
"Yeah, maybe it is, and you'd know that better than someone like me. Give yourself some credit, you were raised by, and trained by, a Jedi Master. The bigger question is, do you actually want this child?"
"There's so much to consider..."
"No. How do you feel?"
"I..." His eyes were met by Eliza's in the split second she looked his way and warmth filled his heart.
Days, weeks, months, and years spent with and without her rushed through his mind, all that they'd endured and he realized—it didn't matter. Neither his concerns nor the fact that this child hadn't been planned for. Those were minor bumps along the way, ones they'd overcome together as they had with other challenges, and they could as long as they had each other.
"I love her and... I love them," he admitted with a tender sigh.
Jonas grinned and clapped him on the shoulder. "Well then, congratulations, dad."
"Yeah, about that," Theron relayed Eliza's gag order much to Jonas' mock-chagrin.
The bay doors of the hangar rolled open and engines hummed, announcing the shuttle's departure. The Pureblood family took to the skies for a journey to Dromund Kaas and Eliza joined back at Theron's side. She took his hand and kissed his cheek.
"Soon, all of this will be over and we can go home too. Unless..." Her voice dropped when she caught the other pair of travelers entering the hangar bay. "One moment."
Senya inclined her head and beckoned her over. "Commander."
"Senya."
"I want to express my... gratitude, for your hospitality during my stay here."
Eliza nodded, quite unsure of what to say beyond simple courtesies. "And you have mine for the efforts you've made to aid our cause."
"I noticed there is a missing page in my son's sketchbook," Senya continued while they walked toward Sana-Rae's vessel.
"Ah, yes. There was a drawing of me... you can have it back if you wish. I didn't think you'd want to see."
"No, keep it. I merely wanted to know why you took it."
"I uh..." Eliza's inner turmoil was plainly written all over her face while she chewed on the inside of her lip.
"I think I understand now," Senya offered and loaded her bags into the cargo hold. "Don't forget him and for what it's worth... I hope you will defeat my husband."
"So do I, thank you."
"Be well, Commander."
"Safe travels, may the Force be with you."
It was an awkward goodbye for the both of them, and Eliza felt grateful when Theron's arms embraced her after Sana-Rae's vessel too left the hangar bay for new adventures.
"Busy day huh?" He kissed the top of her head.
"Quite."
"What were you going to say earlier, about going home?"
"Oh. I spoke with Vowrawn, about the future of both Empires. There is the option of staying here if that is something you would prefer," she told him.
Even knowing now what the Republic, his father, and the SIS had planned and been prepared to do, Eliza knew deep down that the Empire could never feel like home to Theron—hatred for the Republic didn't equal love for the Empire. Without extreme reform, he'd not be happy working for Intelligence or in any other field that may pose a conflict of interest and clash with his morals, and he was not a man to sit still either.
"How would that work?"
"I haven't quite figured out the details though, I do intend to throw the Eternal Empire's weight behind the Sith Empire. Just, as a separate entity," Eliza gave him a brief recap of the things she and Vowrawn had discussed.
"There's still much to puzzle out, of course, but I'd like for you and I to find something that will bring you happiness. As much as you love me, and despite saying you'd defect, I don't believe the Republic or Empire are an option for you. Am I wrong?"
Theron grimaced. "No, you're not wrong, but what about your family?"
"I would still be able to see them regularly while we maintain a peace with the Sith Empire."
"And what if he turns on you?"
"He won't."
"Do you trust him that much? You've always said he's one of the most dangerous men in the Empire—one you wouldn't know had turned on you until you've drawn your last breath."
"Which is true, for others, but I trust him with my life. I'd trust him with my daughter's life."
"And Scourge? What happens if his treatments prove successful? Would he stay here on Odessen as well to be with Cyara?"
"Well… this planet is mostly uninhabited—I thought we'd build a nice farm for all five of us. Grow some crops, raise cattle or something?"
For a second he believed her to be serious until her pursed lips cracked into a grin. They reached their private quarters and Theron poured them both a glass of wine.
"Well then, here's to the future and our farm." He laughed.
"Yeah, think I'll pass on the wine, it's not—"
The glass dropped before she could set it down and all at once, the room froze completely. Spilled wine never made it onto the carpet and the tumbler vanished before it could shatter.
A golden bordered, deep red runner rolled out beneath her feet and the walls transformed into a transparisteel dome. The Odessen Wilds beyond her bedroom window vanished in favor of an all too familiar, starry sky at the edge of the atmosphere and an icy cold gripped her heart.
"Vitiate..." Eliza hissed and she spun around.
Within the Throne room of Zakuul, before its seat of power, two men battled for dominance. The older of the two a face Eliza could never forget. A false face worn by her greatest adversary—the Sith Emperor—but it was the stranger he fought who demanded her attention.
A young man, barely out of his teens and standing just over six feet tall, wielded an all too familiar set of lightsabers—her own. Weapons that could only be handled by one who was part of her bloodline and Eliza observed his physical appearance.
A ponytail held his mid-long, dark brown hair together and away from his honey-brown eyes. A birthmark, identical to her own, sat at the base of his neck just beneath his hairline and the closer she got, the more it felt like she ought to know him. That she did know him.
Vitiate channeled his power into a single storm of vibrant, violet lightning but the young man dodged every bolt. Deflecting the attack with calm and grace while he confronted his antagonizer.
"You cannot win, Vitiate, and I will never let you. Your family and mine have been at odds for too long—this ends today."
The Sith Emperor guffawed, "Such naivety. I've been with you from the day you were conceived, boy. I know your mind, I know your every move, I know your fate better than any other and I always have."
Another surge of lightning arched through the throne room and this time brought the young man to his knees. The bolts formed his shackles and his cage while Vitiate circled his prey and smirked.
"You've enjoyed a lifetime of training, not to defeat me but to welcome me so we may go forth as one. Submit," Vitiate demanded.
The Force shackles tightened around the young man and suffocated him slowly, his screams of agony echoing while the Emperor again insisted, "Submit! I will break you before this day is over, one way or another!"
"No!" Eliza called out and she dove forward to protect the young man but her feet wouldn't move.
"You cannot help," a voice spoke to her ears only and a shim appeared at her side.
Identical to the Sith Emperor taunting the young man except this one as she knew him best—the ghostly form of Valkorion that lived inside her mind.
"But you can prevent this," he added.
"What is this? What games are you playing?!" Eliza spat.
"A vision of the future. Don't you recognize the boy?"
"My son."
"Mm yes. The product of two of the most powerful bloodlines in history, the only two to ever pose a threat to my existence. A descendant of Darth Revan himself, born from you into our bloodline—the ultimate vessel."
Eliza felt the anger surge through her body and made another attempt to aid the young man—her son—but she was nailed to the floor.
"Stop this!"
"I can't. Only you can," Vitiate teased.
Unlike her, he could maneuver closer to the scene and he smirked when he inspected the life-like copy of himself. "I've aged well, wouldn't you say?"
"How does he even exist? You're not made flesh now and that body is long gone."
"There are many years before this will come to pass."
"How do I prevent it? How do I protect my son?"
"You already know. Deep down you know the one thing you're so afraid of is the one thing you must do to save him."
She scoffed, "The throne. That's why you're doing this. You never wanted me to succeed you—you want me and otherwise, you will take my son instead."
"Smart girl, you finally understand."
"But how will that throne..."
Up until this moment, she'd merely suspected there was more to the seat than met the eye. It was why she'd intended not to go near it until Vitiate had been defeated, to lay only a symbolic claim and have another issue orders for retreat, but it appeared he had different plans.
"You sensed it when you touched it. That undeniable chill, that thirst. A fragment of my essence I left behind when your padawan struck me down. Once you claim the seat, I will become whole once more."
"How can I be certain you won't terminate my son's existence the second I give myself over to you?"
"Is the alternative any more favorable?"
The young man's screams cut her like a knife when the flesh-made image of Valkorion began breaking every bone in his body and Eliza cried out with him.
"I will take your precious throne but I won't go down without a fight. You won't have me and you won't have my child—I'd sooner die with you," she snarled through gritted teeth.
He laughed, "I welcome you to try."
His voice fell away along with his ghostly and flesh-made forms. Both disappearing into thin air along with her son while the room transitioned back to its original state—her private quarters. Cold steel walls snapped back into place and the night-sky retreated to welcome the green forests outside her window. A set of strong arms held her and she found herself back safe in her own quarters.
"What happened?" Theron asked with great concern.
"Vitiate..."
"You were standing here with glazed over eyes, staring... then screaming."
"The dampener doesn't work. He's after our son, we need Scourge."
"He's undergoing his second treatment ahead of schedule, at his own request. What does the Emperor want with our son?"
"Right now he's leverage but potentially, one day, the ultimate vessel. A combination of your family line and mine."
He blanched. "Could he really do that?"
"I don't doubt it. He wants me to connect with the throne on Zakuul—it holds a fragment of his power—so he will be whole again and I..."
"Will be gone."
She nodded and unclipped her lightsabers from her belt to dismantle the hilts. "I need to talk to this Lord Dramath immediately, grab me the holocron please?"
"What if he doesn't want to help?" Theron pulled her grandfather's chest out from under the bed and dug for the small velvet pouch.
"I don't have any other options." She leaned forward and cupped his cheek in her palm. "We're on our own with this one."
"But what help could I possibly offer?"
"You're here with me, that's all that matters."
Eliza unfurled the two scrolls sat hidden in the hilts and read the instructions, screwing her nose up once. "Of course there's blood involved... Alright, no time like the present."
The ceremonial blade she kept in her grandfather's chest would do just fine and Theron watched her ready the tip but before she could make the cut, he stopped her. A curious question sat on his tongue, his mind still dwelling on the things she'd told him.
"What was he like?"
"Our son? He looked like you, actually. Same eyes and dark hair, only his was longer and he was quite tall."
"And his name?"
"I don't know. I didn't get to ask or actually talk to him, only observe a possible future outcome."
"Oh." He flashed her a half-smile and took the blade. "Here, let me."
"Do you have any ideas for a name?" Eliza asked while he made a small incision down the palm of her hand.
"Not really... I'm still catching up to the notion of becoming a father. He's powerful huh?"
"It would appear so, yes."
Small drops of blood sprinkled over the holocron and with her free hand, she reached for the incantation written on one of the scrolls.
"Tina iw tina, tu'iyia kraujas doryumi j'us. Ri tsakwa shiyi tadti', jani arsia tu'iyia zara."
Theron quirked a brow. Over the years, Eliza had mastered the Sith language, and perhaps he ought to familiarize himself with the basics if he was going to be in her life, but for now, the words didn't make a lick of sense.
"Son of sons, your blood calls you. The time has come to prepare your vengeance," she translated for him when she saw his frown.
Blood filled the grooves to activate the holocron and lit it up in a vibrant red. The cube hummed gratefully and its sides split open to release the ancient spirit within, sparking the image of a Pureblood Sith looking none too pleased with his circumstances.
"Diu tuti j'us?" he barked at the pair.
Fierce, yellow-golden eyes strained to focus and the Sith brushed a single lock of sleek, black hair from his face to stare down at those who'd awoken him.
"My name is Eliza, my Lord. Eliza Ignis." She rose up to face him.
"An Ignis? A... human Ignis?" He made no secret of his disapproval. "How much time has passed?"
"Fourteen hundred and seventy-one years."
Lord Dramath froze. "Fourteen hundred and... why have none come sooner?!"
"You were our family's best-kept secret, until now, and for good reason."
"Hm." His scrutinizing gaze observed her a second time. "I know your face. You struck down Tenebrae at the Dark Temple of the Sith."
"I thought I did, yes. How do you know?"
"I know everything where he is concerned. This holocron has held my spirit for apparent centuries, denying me the pleasure of moving on and forcing me to witness one devastation after another. Every atrocity committed by the son I should have torn from life while he was still in the womb, had I been aware."
He prowled whichever plane of existence supported his spirit form. "A just punishment—the Force is a fickle being. Of course, this prison had been intended for my son."
"Why only a prison?" asked Theron and though Lord Dramath regarded him with disdain, he kept his head held high.
"Because his spirit is so malevolent it would taint the Astrum and darken it for all eternity, destroying every soul in the afterlife."
"How do we defeat him?"
Lord Dramath laughed and repeated, "'We'? No, only she. A Force blind such as yourself cannot contribute to this fight."
That sparked Eliza's ire and she hissed, "Watch yourself. Theron has—"
"I do not care what he has accomplished in life. The Force has not favored him and so he cannot follow where you must go."
"Which is where?"
"The darkest reaches of your own mind once Tenebrae takes your body for his own."
"The idea is to stop him before that happens," Theron argued but he was dismissed a second time.
"You cannot. He must become whole first."
"The fragments..." Eliza worked hard to piece everything together but vital information still eluded her. Information Lord Dramath chose to share.
"Yes. After Tenebrae took Nathema for himself, he went in search of ways to ensure his survival knowing fully well even immortality has its limits. He found a way to siphon fragments of his power into objects and other human beings. Even an entire planet so his Servants could always restore him should his host body be destroyed."
"His Voice." The realization dawned on Theron.
"Yes. An extension of his will and power, enough to rule the Empire even while other matters kept him occupied elsewhere."
"Such as the Eternal Empire and his life as Valkorion?" asked Eliza.
"You're both catching on, good."
"But what about Yavin and Ziost?"
"After you defeated his voice on Dromund Kaas, that portion of his essence was shattered and it left him weakened. Stuck on Zakuul and biding his time to regain his strength. The chaos on Yavin Four, the moon itself being another tether to his power, revived that fragment and allowed him to emerge once more as Vitiate."
A deep sigh escaped Theron. "That is why the moon felt so dark and suffocating."
"After Yavin, Tenebrae sought to perform the ritual of Nathema a second time, on Ziost, but he wasn't strong enough yet. Initially only capable of possessing one being at a time while others merely fell to the influence of his power."
"It seemed like enough," Eliza retorted in misery, "he still devastated the entire planet. Why did he retreat afterward?"
"Because your victory on Dromund Kaas, and your near victory on Ziost, showed him that the fragmentation of his essence came at a price—it left him vulnerable and weakened—so he retrieved all pieces and held on to Valkorion as his one true form."
"But now he's fragmented once more."
"When the Jedi struck at Valkorion's body, all of Tenebrae's energy released. Most of it was left with the girl, and now you, but in a final bid for survival he siphoned off the smallest spark and imbued his seat of power."
Lord Dramath narrowed his eyes at her. "This is why you must surrender yourself to him. Allow him control of your body and allow him to reunite with that fragment. If you do not, he cannot be truly defeated."
She scoffed and waved off the damning solution, "And just how exactly will I do that if he's taken me over completely?"
"You'll exist in the far reaches of his mind—your mind—which is the only place where you'll be able to defeat him but you'd have limited time. Keep that," Lord Dramath indicated at the holocron, "on your person and it'll act as an anchor until he is trapped."
"Can it hold the both of you?" Theron couldn't help but question most of what the Sith had explained.
"No. She will have to release me first."
"How convenient. You get your freedom and we just have to take all of this on faith."
"I did not suffer for what appears to be centuries just to hand my son his victory!" Lord Dramath snarled at the mere implication, "I guarantee my desire to see him banished from your world cannot be matched by any of his other victims!"
"I know plenty who'd beg to differ," Eliza snipped. "You'll have your freedom but first, tell me what I need to do once I am in his, our, mind and he's taken over."
"It'll be the fight of your life. You've only ever faced a portion of his power but never its full magnitude."
"I'm ready."
"Very well, little Ignis, then this is what you must do..."
