Perhaps she shouldn't have underestimated the Knight Captain because they'd been battling for ten minutes now and he had yet to break a sweat while Eliza could feel the first drops form on her forehead. His command of the Force was far superior to that of any other Knight she'd encountered and he'd met her every attack with a defensive combination that continuously kept her at bay.

"This is ridiculous," growled Lord Scourge and it took his every effort not to jump in and finish the fight for her. "Who does this guy think he is to challenge her?"

"I don't know, perhaps distant family of Arcann's?" Praven offered.

"Or just someone extremely loyal to the throne," Charlie mused and she winced when the Captain almost struck Eliza.

Close enough though and Eliza glanced down at her torn sleeve. Less than an inch more and that would have been her skin, but it brought a smile to her face. He was a worthy opponent at least, twirling his saberstaff to prepare for her next attack that never came.

She was on to his attempt to wear her out and gauge her style, a thing she'd often done herself, and she was no longer willing to play along. This wasn't sparring just for kicks or a friendly duel—this fight meant something—but it wasn't the fight she'd prepared for. She needed to make quick work of this gnat so she could face the one foe who truly mattered.

"Is that all you've got, defensive moves? I was almost impressed," she taunted, "almost."

"I have no interest in your prattle, Outlander. You won't distract me."

"So you can't do both things at once? Have a conversation and battle? You Knights really are the most unusual fighters."

"And you," the Captain snarled and indicated his saberstaff in her direction, "talk too much!"

He pushed off his feet and spun once before thrusting his blade forward but it clashed with Eliza's. She met his sardonic smile across the golden and fiery glow emitted by their weapons and held his stare for a second, twirling her other saber in hand to strike but he quickly realized her intentions and made a backward somersault.

Okay, he was a little impressive, she had to admit to herself, and definitely more disciplined than others she'd encountered. Within seconds, he had crossed the distance between them once more and his staff missed her ribcage by a hair.

Her eyes caught the throne room at the end of the hallway, her main objective and she allowed thoughts of victory, the end of war, to fuel her. Flipping back and forth, and dancing on her heel to strike at him with her dominant hand while using her other blade to deflect every attack.

It turned their animosity into a battle of style and grace, demanding respect not only from onlookers but both fighters as well. Perfectly matched despite their extremely different styles but something, someone, had to give and Eliza was tired of playing to test his limits. Sacrificing her manners and poise to reach for a win.

Unafraid of her own gift, she used the Force to rip a nearby curtain from its hinges and set it aflame to drop right by the Captain's feet, startling him long enough for her to deal a heavy blow to his shoulder. She tucked into a roll and swiftly moved behind him where she struck at the back of his knees and he collapsed. Clutching his bloodied shoulder and snarling at the oncoming defeat but he wasn't ready to bow down just yet.

"So that's how your kind handles a fight, by playing dirty and parlor tricks."

"We fight to win no matter what that looks like," Eliza bit back.

Granting him less than a second to catch his breath but that was all he needed to lash out as he swiveled around on his good knee. Thrusting his saberstaff forward and she was too slow to avoid his attack completely, feeling the burn across her outer thigh.

If his aim had hit where he'd intended to, he would have pierced her belly—and child—instead and that understanding forced Eliza to put a quick end to the fight. She swiped at his arm, knocking his staff from his grasp and kicked her boot up into his chin to send him stumbling a second time and this time, she was quick to put her blades at his throat to demand surrender.

Lord Scourge muttered, "Finally."

"She won't kill him," said Theron, understanding the situation she was in. "He commands the armies of Zakuul, it would be beneficial to have his cooperation."

"And he's cute," Jenna added, prompting Charlie to chuckle while Theron merely frowned.

The Captain growled, "Finish it then, Outlander."

"I'd rather not," Eliza said while she picked up his saberstaff. "I have you beaten so honor your word, tell your forces to stand down."

"And kneel while they're at it so you can slaughter them all?" he spat but true to his word, he contacted the other Knights.

"Lay down your arms—we offer our surrender to the Outlander."

Uneasy words full of hatred, Eliza could hear it in his voice. A man ready to become a martyr and sully her ascension but she smiled nonetheless.

"I have no intention of slaughtering anyone. I'm about to claim the throne and I could use men such as yourself to help protect and rebuild Zakuul."

She tossed his weapon over to Lord Cytharat for safekeeping and gave her orders, "You, Praven, Jenna, and Andronikos—restrain him and round them all up. Take them to the holding cells below, I will speak to them later on. Doc you should join them, see to his injuries."

"You'll be left up here with just the five of you," Lord Cytharat worried, knowing what came next, "will you be okay?"

"Yes, all will be fine. Just see to our new prisoners and if you can, slice the system for a complete record of all prisoners held by the Eternal Empire over the past five years."

"I'll take care of that Commander, we'll get it done," Jenna promised.

None of them were willing to show the Captain much of their concerns toward her upcoming battle—the Knights weren't to know of Eliza and the Emperor's unique situation—but their troubled expressions didn't escape his notice when they left to take him and his men downstairs.

"Charlie, Jonas, I want you both out here guarding the throne room. Shoot anyone who sets foot on this level once these doors close," Eliza instructed once they reached the round monstrosity.

"To kill?" asked Jonas.

"Yes, we're not taking chances at this stage."

Lord Scourge scowled. He didn't quite agree with her decision to capture the Knights, even if he did see the wisdom in doing so. It simply felt like too great of a risk and he knew that once they'd get started, there'd be little to no protection for her, should they rebel and gain the upper hand, save for these two spies posted by the door.

"Keep your aim sharp," he warned and followed inside.

Theron let his eyes survey the throne room—it looked far more impressive in person than it had via the spydroid's feed. "You've brought the holocron, right?"

"You ask this now, as we stand here?" Eliza chuckled and patted the pouch hanging from her hip. "Luckily, I do."

"Are you in much pain?" asked Lord Scourge.

"Some discomfort but I've had worse, I'll bite through it. Don't you two start worrying, we have no time for it."

"Yes ma'am," Theron tried sounding lighthearted while he placed the four relays around the throne and he activated them once for testing.

Bright, green ray shields sprung to life to form a prison around the podium. "Alright, I'm set here," he announced.

"Good." Eliza strode past Lord Scourge and set foot on the first steps leading up to the throne but he snatched her wrist.

Sparing a moment, less than a second and yet an eternity, to lock eyes with her and convey thoughts and emotions he wasn't aware he had. An outpouring of love and devotion that could never die but a harsh line pulled through the reflection in his eyes as well—finality. Knowing this might be the last time he'd ever see or touch her.

Her palm cupped the side of his face and she leaned in to kiss his cheek. Her wrist slipped from his grasp and she embraced Theron when she climbed the second step. Welcoming his arms around her and pouring her heart and soul into the kiss she left to linger on his lips.

"Let's get this over with," she announced.

Unwilling to waste further words on goodbyes or sentiments that would only make the next step that much more difficult. Besides, there wasn't a syllable in any language she knew that could ever convey the depth with which she loved them both and what they meant to her so she just smiled.

Even just standing before the throne she felt that same allure she'd done previously. Icy cold and tempting her darkest impulses, and she retrieved the holocron—her anchor—from her pouch. Clutching it tightly in hand while praying every word spoken by Lord Dramath had been the truth.

She took a deep breath to center herself and let every concern, every inkling of fear and doubt wash away until she bathed in serenity. Her body sunk into the throne and she closed her eyes, releasing a whisper that would surrender all she was to the passenger inside of her.

"Vitiate… I welcome you."

Darkness surged through every vein in her body and she heard it hissing in her ears. A claw gripped her heart and her blood ran cold. Her limbs jerked in ways she could no longer control and her mind emptied out completely until there was nothing but the void. Just the void and then she was gone.

Seconds, minutes, or perhaps entire centuries passed. Time had no meaning in whichever hell hole she found herself once she opened her eyes again. A world drained of color, of life. Of anything other than constant torment and the faceless ghosts that dwelled the surface paid her no mind. She was alone and lost.

Sand and gravel crunched beneath her boot when she walked the only path she could find. Long, winding, leading nowhere and everywhere at once but the structure in the distance felt familiar. She'd seen it before only last time, it hadn't been in the state of collapse it was now.

"The Dark Temple… why here?"

No one answered—perhaps the Emperor was beyond her reach already.

Crumbled steps led her toward the entrance but once she stepped inside, the entire scene changed. Rather than find the great hall offering passage to its many tunnels and traps, she wandered onto a farm set amidst lush, green fields. At least, she assumed they'd be green, color didn't exist here either.

A small, Pureblood boy sat between the crops beyond the gate cradling a baby monkey-lizard in his lap. Speaking to it, petting its head and caressing its fur, and Eliza almost dared to smile until a sickening crack rang in her ears and halted her step. The boy had killed the creature and used a torch from the nearby shed to burn its body.

"Tenebrae! What have you done?" A woman came marching outside when the stench permeated the air.

"He was weak. The weak have to die," the boy answered calmly, his eyes dead and cold.

"Who was?"

"Wikia."

His mother gasped and clapped a hand over her mouth. "But he's been with you since the day you were born. He was your best friend!"

"The weak have to die."

Eliza reeled at the exchange she witnessed but she had little time to understand. The scenery before her evaporated and rebuilt. The same farm but bigger this time and she felt herself sucked inside the structure until she came to a halt in a nursery. At least two years must have passed, she judged by the appearance of the boy now.

Now he stood by a crib and quietly watched as a baby girl, resembling his mother but not him, cooed and made grabby hands. Chortling and wanting her big brother to play with her but his eyes glazed over and he reached out to clasp her chubby little chin in his grip. Another crack of bones echoed and Eliza felt she was about to throw up.

The memory—all of it had to be, his—spun forward once more to a fierce argument between the boy and an older man while the mother sat in tears. Cowering away in a corner and powerless to stop her son from killing the man and then it was her turn. He killed them all and for the first time, Eliza caught the boy smiling. A smile so wide it erupted into hollow laughter.

Time wound on and ghosts of the past shared the story of their demise. So many lives, so many dead and then she witnessed the entire planet subjugated. Thousands of Sith gathered outside the palace and chanting in unison while their powers converged high above and poured into the boy who'd risen as their supposed savior. A monster in the making. Finally, she saw with her own eyes what had become of Nathema so long ago.

"Are you surprised?" a voice reached her mind and the visage of Valkorion formed behind her.

In truth, she was. She'd always believed people weren't born evil and it was circumstance that shaped them. When she'd first seen the farm, she'd thought she would witness the events that turned him from an innocent child into a demon but the reality was that the child never existed. He'd always been a demon—cold, calculated and cruel.

"I shouldn't be. Why show me this?"

"It is not my intention—just part of the process. As I grow stronger, your memories are drowned out by my own."

"You know I'm here to stop you."

"Mm, yes, and what a fine stage you have chosen." He wandered inside his palace and she followed. "The place where I had my first taste of immortality. I worked so hard for it."

"You're about to lose it all," Eliza hissed and her blades came to life.

"Am I?" Vitiate grinned. "Such a fighter, you always were. Do you remember your time at my fortress? You were fearless and powerful, constantly chasing your next kill and you delighted in my praise. So eager to please me—the perfect weapon—I should have made you mine then."

Her teeth gritted together. "I remember but that wasn't me."

"It was. I cannot change you into someone you are not, only bring out those parts that you keep so well hidden."

Another truth, she knew it deep down but she had her reasons to suppress those urges and the main reason stood before her—she didn't want to become just like him.

"I didn't come here for a walk down memory lane, Vitiate. Fight me," she challenged and wasted no time waiting for his answer.

With both her blades held out, she lunged forward and began her assault.


The second Eliza took the seat of power on Zakuul, her body jerked and her back arched in the most impossible way. Her eyes sprung wide open and burned red, and one hand dug into the arm of the throne while the other clutched the holocron. A demonic hiss surged around both men still stood inside the room and then she was gone, slumping back in her seat and Lord Scourge rushed forward to make sure the holocron didn't slip from her fingers.

With one hand, he held Eliza's and the holocron, and the other he extended to Theron. "Come, we must follow."

"What? You know I can't," he argued, his disappointment evident.

"You can. I will be your conduit and guide, do not let go of my hand but I must warn you—if you die in there, you die out here."

Theron frowned. "Are you sure? Do you have enough strength?"

"Yes and she needs us both, you know this. Come."

He'd planned for it all along. Years of having lived a far too long life had taught him things nigh impossible for most other Force users to master and while mind walking wasn't uncommon, bringing a passenger required specific focus.

Theron hesitated for a second and cast a glance back to the entrance. If they both left, Eliza's sole protection would depend on Jonas and Charlie but if he didn't go, it might not even matter. The Emperor could win and while he didn't believe himself capable of making a difference, he'd be damned if he didn't at least try to aid her.

"Let's go." He dashed forward and took Lord Scourge's hand.

Together, they knelt down before Eliza and immersed in a deep trance. It took Theron little effort to center himself in meditation, thanks to Master Zho who'd insisted on teaching him the ways of the Force even through his constant failure, and with Lord Scourge's guidance, they soon found themselves in the same doleful and color-drained world.

"What is this place…" Theron looked on with an eerie chill traveling down his spine.

They too bore witness to thousands of Sith engaged in a ceremony while one man stood on a high-rise podium at the palace entrance draining all power that accumulated.

"The Ritual of Nathema. I never knew this planet while it lived," Lord Scourge realized.

"I don't see her."

"Nor do I, but I sense her nearby inside the palace."

"He must be there too…"

"He is."

They maneuvered past the crowd, though not a single soul took notice of their presence, and found their way to the entrance. Not quite a place of luxury but ancient ruins to pay tribute to Nathema's former rulers. Statues for each of them stood erected throughout the main hall and old portraits covered the walls until they reached a large doorway.

Beyond that door, winding and crumbled steps led to the inner sanctum and Lord Scourge's brows pulled together. "I have been here before…"

"You have?"

"Yes. At the top there is a crumbled step, watch yourself," the Sith mused as though walking a memory. "And then there she'll be, looking our way with eyes pure as the oceans. Those same blue eyes I first saw… in my vision."

As he predicted, Theron near stumbled over at the crumbled step and when they reached the pinnacle, Eliza glanced their way. Sparing a brief smile for the fact they'd both arrived but her attention quickly returned to the Emperor and she spun out of the way to dodge another wave of his power.

"Ah, look, the traitor and the unworthy one here to assist," mocked Vitiate.

A thundercloud of vibrant energy crackled in the air above and violent forks struck every square inch of the platform, forcing Theron to duck out of the way while Eliza and Lord Scourge deflected each bolt with their blades. The Sith Emperor laughed, watching them struggle, watching the smoke come out of Theron's boot from jumping a second too late though he remained unharmed otherwise.

"Do you cretins think you can make a difference here? The descendant of Revan born a Force-blind and my former Wrath who's spent centuries blind to my truth. Are you so eager to die for the inevitable?"

His form split into two mirrored copies and one rose right before Theron. "Your kind will be the first I eliminate when I seize total galactic control. Rejected by the Force, an affront to everyone around you!"

"Why waste your energy if we're so insignificant?" Theron threw back, refusing to be intimidated and he fired his blasters beyond the copied image at the true Emperor who waved the shots off.

"There will be no room for abominations when I am done with this universe," Vitiate bellowed.

The images withdrew back into the man and he rose up the platform, up the steep steps to his throne in a shroud of darkness and pulsing energy. His eyes sparkled with delight and his lips contorted into a menacing grin. One arm extended out and he beckoned Eliza over, the dark shroud wrapping around her middle and she had no choice but to let his power elevate her body. Drawing her ever so close until she hovered before him.

"You couldn't defeat me out there—not alone and not with your friends—what makes you think you can succeed in here?"

The force holding her body began to crush and suffocate her, and Theron rushed up the steps to put a stop to it but Vitiate took him in his grasp as well. As though flicking the dirt from his shoulder, he threw Theron back down the stairs where his head smacked into the hard ground.

"No!" Eliza choked out but to her relief, Theron was quick to stand up again.

"Enough of your games!" Lord Scourge bristled in fury.

He crossed the distance between himself and the Emperor in the blink of an eye and cut his blade through the shadowy tendrils that held Eliza. Her shoulder popped in an agonizing way when she collapsed before the throne but she raised her weapons ready for another round.

Lord Scourge stood at her side and whispered, urging, "This is your sanctuary, your mind. You are in control and you can finish this."

It was the key. Her willpower, her inner strength and the realization that without her submission, Vitiate would be powerless. She'd needed to surrender to find him in here but now that she had, it was time to take her power back.

"This is my body, my mind, and my life, and I cast you out!

"No more escapes. No more host bodies or resurrections. No more immortality—it ends here and now," she threatened and drew on the memory of every soul who'd lost their life to him.

The ghosts she'd met earlier appeared and formed a horde around the Emperor and his throne, spitting their dissonant accusations that echoed off the walls. Their circle narrowed and closed in on him as each spirit sought to lash out and fight the battle they'd been denied in life.

Vitiate rose and swatted all around him. "Lies! These weaklings have been dead for centuries and I'm the only one who gave their sad lives meaning! I gave them a purpose!"

"They're alive in here because I will them to be, because I invite them!"

"Never!"

Another thunderous cloud formed and a thousand lightning bolts struck every inch of the platform to snuff the specters out but all they did was fall and rise again. They all reached out at once and began a chant, the exact reverse of words they'd spoken during the ritual of Nathema, to take back the power he'd stolen from them.

The Sith Emperor roared in anguish. One violet strand of Force energy after another was torn from his body and the face of Valkorion distorted. Piece by piece, he was ripped apart until nothing but his true face remained. The spirits parted to reveal a Pureblood man, so old he couldn't possibly be living. A few strands of wayward, silver locks hung from his scalp and his eyes were dark as the night. His skin pale and thin, showing his blackened veins webbed down his arms and across his hands.

"What… what have you done?" he gasped out and held on to his throne for support. He could barely stand.

This was inconceivable to him and it shouldn't be possible but somehow, she'd managed it and when he tried to call on another storm, he felt the absence of the Force mocking him.

"Turned you into your own biggest fear—a powerless weakling or, an abomination as you so elegantly put it." Eliza held her blade to his throat. "And now it is time you finally met the death you've evaded for millennia."

"You'll never be rid of me! I've been a part of you now and I—"

"Goodbye, my Lord."

She felt Lord Scourge's hand on one shoulder and Theron's on the other when she swung her blade and split Vitiate's true form in two. Right down the middle but rather than drop from the throne, his body simply evaporated.

"Is it over?" Theron frowned—he'd expected a worse to come still.

"I believe so," said Lord Scourge and he indicated above and all around them. "Look."

The skies cleared and color flowed back into the world as far as the eye could see. There was no sign of death or decay and the palace transformed into well preserved ancient ruins, as it should be today had the ritual never taken place. As Eliza imagined it ought to look.

"Scourge…" she gasped with a tremble in her voice and she held out two upturned palms.

Purple energy crackled between her fingertips and formed a lightning globe in her hands. It turned a few shades lighter with each surge until she held a pure and glowing white orb instead, and she looked at him in half a panic.

Lord Scourge nodded. "So there it is, the last mystery of my vision."

"What do you mean?"

"It ended when you held his power in your hands," he reminded her.

"Literally?" asked Theron. "Does this mean she'll be the new—"

"Empress? Yes, but nothing like him."

"How can you be sure?" Eliza still worried.

Lord Scourge let his fingers hover near the orb and delighted in the power it emitted. "You can see, the power is neutral within you, neither light nor dark, as it was always meant to be. His gift was never corrupt—he was."

"I feel it too…" she realized even if the prospect seemed frightening. "There is a calm I have never known before and the aching of my own darkness, its constant clawing at my nerves, it's gone. Soothed and satisfied."

The energy coursed through her veins like a warm summer breeze washing over her and she smiled. "So, where's my crown?"

Theron laughed, his nerves abating. "Let's get out of here first."