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Chapter 6

As Darovit peered out from the viewport of the Sith Transport ship, he marveled at the stunning view of the primitive world from space. The planet was a vast canvas of blues, greens, and browns, with the most striking feature being the seemingly endless ocean that stretched out for miles upon miles. The waters were so clear that he could even see the vibrant coral reefs and schools of colorful fish that swam beneath the surface.

As he gazed upon the landmasses, he could see the intricate details of the terrain. The rolling hills and towering mountains that were once so daunting from the ground now looked like mere bumps on a map. He could see the rivers and waterfalls that flowed throughout the land, and the lush forests that covered the earth in a patchwork of greens.

But what caught his attention the most was the Great Wall of Ba Sing Se, the enormous structure that had once kept the Fire Nation out. From space, it looked like a thin, winding line that stretched across the earth like a snake. It was a testament to the ingenuity and determination of the people of this world.

As Darovit continued to gaze out into the vast expanse of space, he was struck by the sheer beauty of the stars that stretched out beyond the world. They were like tiny pinpricks of light in a sea of darkness, each one a world of its own, with its own unique wonders and mysteries. It was a humbling experience to realize just how small he was in the grand scheme of things.

For a moment, he forgot about the Sith Empire and their plans for conquest. He forgot about the battles and the bloodshed. He simply stood there, marveling at the beauty of the universe.

Darovit leaned against the window of the Sith transport ship, his eyes fixed on the world below. As he gazed upon the vastness of the planet, he couldn't help but be reminded of the ever-flowing nature of the Force. Just like the Force, this world stretched on endlessly, its landscapes changing and evolving with time.

He thought back to his old friend Revan and the wisdom he had imparted onto him. Revan had always told him that the Force was like a river, constantly flowing and shifting, and that it was the Jedi's duty to navigate its currents in order to maintain balance in the galaxy. Looking down at the world below, Darovit could see the truth in his words.

But as he continued to reflect on Revan's teachings, his thoughts drifted to another memory - one that was not quite as peaceful. He remembered the day when Revan had claimed the fallen Mandalorian mask and declared war against the Mandalorians.

It had been a difficult decision, but Revan had believed that it was necessary in order to protect the galaxy from their warmongering ways.

Darovit's eyes widened as his mind was suddenly filled with images of the cave world Nuka. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest, and his hands started to shake uncontrollably. He remembered the horrors he had witnessed there, the devastation and destruction that had left him scarred for life.

The planet had once been a lush, green world, full of life and vitality. But then the civil war had come, and everything had changed. The planet's cities were destroyed in a single flash, its people killed or mutated by the radiation that lingered long after the bombs had fallen.

Darovit and his battalion had been sent there to investigate reports of a possible weapons cache, but what they found was something far more terrible. The ruins of the cities were filled with the screams of the dying, and the air was thick with the stench of death.

The only way to traverse the planet was through the ruins of the caves and trenches that had once been dug by the inhabitants.

Darovit taps around his side. Now fully awakened from his slumber near the window in the pilot's deck. He viciously taps around him. A flash of a smile darts along his face. "Got it." He speaks in a triumphant whisper.

A personal bag, withered away nearly from the long passage of time. It was or used to be a great green bag. 'Nadd' labeled along it. An old family relic, worn by the noble woman of the Nadd houses. Not a concubine, but the mother of the first son.

His mother…

He sighs, his heart stammering as he moves his scarred fingers along the fabric. Flashes of his childhood flash before his gaze. He stutters. Memories of his father's army suit, the smell of it. His mothers red lips and smile along the warmth of a hug, his brother…less angrier, and more content within his life.

Yet, the dark thoughts were drawn back. He sighed as he dug into the bag. The last photo of his mother and father, the proof of the 'Nadd' name, and the records of there father. Important to Darovit on a normal day, but his mind had drifted to them.

Team Avatar…and Ty Lee to be specific…

He was still stuttering. His heart hammering as he found what he was looking for. The vial within his lone hand as he leveled it within his palm, Death Sticks.

The vial is made of clear glass and is about the size of a small perfume bottle. Inside, the Death Sticks are neatly packed together in a cylindrical shape. The sticks themselves are thin and long, with a slightly glossy appearance. They look almost fragile, as if they could crumble with the slightest touch.

But Darovit knows that these sticks are anything but fragile. They contain a highly addictive and dangerous substance that has caused countless individuals to spiral down into darkness and ruin.

It was rough, and he knew that he was acting irrationally. But to forget, to stop feeling these things for people he hardly knew…to stop feeling the force.

He heard the scuttle of footsteps behind him. His heart stilling as he held the drug up in the air. The figure pausing, and he knew his walk. Slow and collected, wobbly now after the loss of a limb.

Darovit turned around to face his younger brother, feeling a sudden sense of shame wash over him. He knew that his brother had caught him red-handed, about to indulge in the very thing that had been slowly destroying his body for years. "Brender," he muttered, trying to conceal the vial of death sticks in his palm.

Brender tapped him on the shoulder, his expression stern. "Come on, Darovit. You can't keep doing this to yourself," he said, his voice tinged with concern.

Darovit sighed, feeling a sense of guilt wash over him. "I know, I know," he said, glancing down at the vial. "It's just... it helps me forget."

"Forget what?" Brender asked, his eyebrows furrowed.

Darovit hesitated for a moment, then decided to open up. "Everything," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "The war, the death, the pain. It's like... it's like the only way I can make it all go away."

Brender leaned forward, his eyes piercing into Darovit's. "You're using the Death Sticks again, aren't you?" he asked, his voice laced with anger.

Darovit just shrugged, avoiding his brother's gaze. "So what if I am? It's not like it's hurting anyone else."

Brender slammed his hand down on the table, causing Darovit to jump. "That's not the point, Darovit. You're hurting yourself. And for what? To forget your problems?"

Darovit scoffed. "You wouldn't understand. You've always been the perfect little Dark Jedi, following all the rules and regulations."

Brender's eyes narrowed. "I'm not talking to you as a Sith, Darovit. I'm talking to you as your brother. Someone who cares about you and doesn't want to see you throw your life away."

Darovit rolled his eyes. "And what do you want me to do, huh? Just magically forget about everything that's happened? Forget about the fact that we lost everything?"

There was a sigh that ensnared the brothers. Both pausing for a second as they both averted there gazes. The lull for the Death Sticks had been pushed away by the shame and pettiness of the argument. Sure, but after a minute Darovit's gaze drifted to his brother.

It had been five days…five days. They had been drifting through space around the planet for five days. Daroivt had the Sith Engineers working day and night to grab a frequency. There ship had broken away and it had to have caught something, but the Engineers needed to break in first.

It had been five days since they had encountered those Jedi and he made his break from Team Avatar. It had been five days since his brother had lost his hand.

Brender carried it to his side, dealing with the weight difference. He had thought he had lost him…his last brother, his companion, his best friend. They were all they had. And here he was thinking he would'ent understand.

Darovit took a deep breath and began to tell the story of Nuka.

"Nuka," Brender spoke, his eyes going downcast. "I remember the tales of Nuka, and what happened."

Darovit shook his head. "You don't know what happened on Nuka," He snapped. "You know what the republic had told you, and what the Sith rumors speak of Nuka. A hellhole, that's what it was called."

Brender only listened.

Daraovit sneered. "Didn't trust the Jedi, only Revan and a couple others. You know why, and the blood of our family is enough reason. But I listened to them, Brender. They called it a cursed world, a place where death drowned the force."

Darovit shook his head, feeling the grow of the Death Sticks from deep within.

"We were there to siege a Mandalorian factory, but it wasn't just any factory. It was the heart of their war machine, the place where they produced their weapons, armor, and vehicles. The mission was to liberate the slaves, the men, women, and children who were forced to work there."

Brender listened intently, his eyes fixed on his brother's face. He could see the pain and sorrow etched into Darovit's features, but he didn't interrupt.

Darovit continued, his voice becoming more intense as he spoke. "The battle was brutal, and the fighting was fierce. I remember feeling my blaster rifle kick into my shoulder as I mowed down Mandalorians. I could see Revan's purple blade hacking through them, and it was like we were both possessed by something, something dark and powerful. We didn't know what it was at the time, we just knew that we hated them."

He paused for a moment, his eyes distant, lost in the memory. "We finally breached the factory and freed the slaves. They were starved, malnourished, and forced to work under horrible conditions. We were heroes back then, we thought we had saved them, but we didn't realize what was going to happen next."

Darovit's voice trailed off, and Brender could see the pain in his brother's eyes. "What happened?" he asked softly.

"They had set a trap," Darovit said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Darovit takes a deep breath before continuing his story, his eyes now lost in the memory. "The trap was brutal, Brender," he says, his voice low and full of pain. "The Mandalorians dropped white phosphorus from their artillery, and it was chaos. Our battalion was cut down in an instant. We had no chance."

He takes a moment to compose himself before continuing. "Revan and I, we were lucky. We managed to make it to a bunker, dodging the thick clouds of phosphorus and explosions all around us. We could hear the screams of our fellow soldiers outside. It was like being in hell."

Brender listens in silence, sensing the weight of his brother's words. "What did you do then?" he asks softly.

Darovit felt a cold sweat run down his spine as he recounted the events of that fateful day to his brother Brender. He remembered the deafening roar of the artillery barrage and the acrid smell of burning flesh that filled the air. But what stood out the most was the family of slaves he had spotted outside the bunker.

"They were just a man and a woman, carrying their children towards the bunker," Darovit said, his voice trembling slightly. "But the mother tripped and sprained her ankle. The man was screaming for help. I couldn't just leave them there, Brender. I had to save them."

"But Revan stopped you," Brender said, his voice laced with disbelief.

"Yes," Darovit replied, his fists clenched. "He force-gripped me and told me that they were already dead. That if I went out there, I would kill myself along with them."

"Why would he do that?" Brender asked, confusion etched on his face.

"Because he was right," Darovit said bitterly. "They were already dead. The Mandalorians had targeted them, Brender. They were just collateral damage in their eyes. And I felt them die within the force. It was like they weren't even there to begin with."

Darovit paused for a moment, his eyes distant as he relived the pain and anguish of that day.

"I hated the Mandalorians then," he said finally. "I wanted nothing more than to see them suffer, to make them pay for what they had done. And that's when I first felt it, Brender. The dark side. It was like a switch had been flipped inside me. I felt the hatred burn within me like a raging fire."

Brender listened in silence as his brother recounted the horrors of war. He could see the pain etched on Darovit's face, and he knew that these memories would haunt him for the rest of his life.

Darovit takes a deep breath. He looks at his younger brother with a newfound sense of determination, his eyes gleaming with an intense fire.

He had become the murderer, the villain…the warlord. How many wives had he widowed, how many children has he orphaned, how many people had died within his manipulation and orders.

Yet, he rose with strength…

He he did not do this for the warmongering ways of the Mandalorian, but to usher in an era of strength and justice. They will not be controlled by a flawed republic!

"Brender," Darovit says, his voice firm and resolute. "We are Sith. We must be stronger than this. We must rise above our traumas and become something greater than ourselves. Something that can change the course of history."

He paces around the room, his hands clasped behind his back, lost in thought. He remembers the days of the Mandalorian wars, and how they awakened something within him. Something that made him stronger, something that gave him a purpose. He remembers Revan, his mentor, his friend, his savior. How he picked up the broken pieces of his life, and forged them anew.

"We are greater than the flawed republic," Darovit continues, his voice growing stronger with every word. "We are the Sith Empire, and we shall forever rule. We will bring order and true justice to the galaxy. We will fight for what is right, and we will never back down."

He remembers his time with Team Avatar, and how bitter and sad it made him feel. But he knows that this is who he is, and he will do what he must for the greater good.

"I know it's not easy, Brender," Darovit says, turning to face his brother. "But we must be strong. We must carry on, no matter what. And if we fall, we must rise again, stronger and more determined than before."

He takes a deep breath, and looks at his brother with a mix of sadness and determination.

"This is our destiny, Brender," Darovit says. "To become something greater than ourselves. To change the course of history. To bring order and true justice to the galaxy."

He pauses, his eyes locked with his brother's.

"And we will do whatever it takes to achieve that."

The next day was when they had found the frequency. The next day came with a sense of urgency and tension that filled the air of the transport ship. Darovit, Brender, Master Draco, and Dascar had gathered with the rest of the surviving crew, slaves, and troopers in the common area, huddled around a flickering holograph projection. The image of Malak, the former apprentice of Revan, filled the space before them.

As the holograph of Malak flickered to life before them, the atmosphere in the common area of the transport ship grew tense. Everyone was on edge, and the tension in the air was palpable. Darovit, Brender, Master Draco, and Dascar stood together, watching as Malak's message began to play.

The former Jedi Knight's voice was cold and commanding, carrying a sense of authority that sent shivers down the spines of all those who heard it. He demanded that every Sith within the galaxy reach the location of the Star Forge, emphasizing the importance of this moment in the war against the Jedi.

"The time has come," Malak declared, his eyes seeming to bore into the very souls of those watching. "The Jedi have discovered our location and are moving to attack us. We must strike now, with all the power we possess. This is the battle that will decide the fate of the Sith and the galaxy itself. We will either emerge victorious or be destroyed, our dreams of ultimate power crushed forever."

As Malak's message continued, Darovit felt a growing sense of unease settling in his stomach. He knew that this battle would be the toughest yet, and the thought of losing filled him with a sense of dread. But he also knew that they had to fight, had to do whatever it took to emerge victorious.

Malak's message ended, and for a moment, there was silence. Everyone in the room seemed to be holding their breath, waiting for something more, something that would tell them what to do next.

And then, the holograph flickered once more, and the image of Malak was replaced by a different one. It was a grainy, poorly lit video, showing the aftermath of a fierce battle. Bodies littered the ground. And an explosion rocks it completely, disconnecting the feed.

The hologram flickers and fades away, leaving the room in an eerie silence. Darovit sits there, his mind racing with a million thoughts. He can't even bring himself to speak, the weight of defeat crushing down on him like a boulder. The crew and troopers around him react in different ways, but none of them are positive.

Some of them start arguing, lashing out in fear and anger. They talk about how they're going to lose everything, how they'll be killed or enslaved by the Republic. Others are in shock, unable to comprehend what they just heard. Dascar is visibly shaken, his eyes wide with disbelief. He keeps muttering to himself that it has to be Republic propaganda, that the Sith Empire couldn't have fallen.

Brender, on the other hand, is furious. He curses and spits, his eyes bulging with rage. He blames the Jedi for everything, claiming that they must have cheated or used some sort of trickery to win. Draco just watches with a twisted smile, enjoying the misery and chaos around him.

The atmosphere is thick with tension and despair. Darovit can feel the weight of it all bearing down on him, suffocating him. He wants to scream, to lash out like Brender, but he can't find the energy to even speak.

Suddenly, the silence is broken by a scream. It's one of the slaves, a young woman who's collapsed on the floor, sobbing uncontrollably. Darovit looks at her and sees the same fear and despair that's weighing him down.

It's a sobering realization for Darovit. He might be a Sith, but he's not immune to the pain and suffering that comes with defeat. He looks around the room and sees the same fear and despair in everyone's eyes.

In that moment, Darovit decides to be different. He decides to be better. He rises to his feet, his voice shaking as he speaks.

"We may have lost the battle, but that doesn't mean we've lost the war. The Sith Empire isn't just a group of soldiers and leaders, it's an idea. And that idea can't be defeated by the Republic."

Darovit looks around the room, meeting each person's gaze in turn. He can see the doubt and fear in their eyes, but he knows that he needs to be strong for them.

"We need to regroup, we need to rebuild, and we need to fight back. The Sith aren't defeated until we give up, until we stop fighting. And I, for one, will never stop fighting."

There's a moment of silence as everyone processes Darovit's words. Slowly, hesitantly, they start to nod in agreement. It's not much, but it's a start.

Darovit sits back down, feeling a sense of pride in himself. He knows that he's not the same person he was during the Mandalorian Wars. He's been through too much to be that naive, idealistic soldier. But he's still a soldier, and he still has a duty to fight for the Sith.

Then he heard it, like an irking irritating sensation spreading across his mind. The Sith master was laughing.

Darovit seethed with anger, his fists clenched tightly at his side as he glared at Draco. "What the hell is so funny?" he spat out, his voice thick with venom.

Draco's laughter slowly died down, and he wiped a tear from his eye. "Oh, my dear Darovit," he said, still chuckling slightly. "You really don't have a sense of humor, do you?"

Darovit's jaw tightened. "I fail to see what's so humorous about the fall of the Sith," he growled.

Draco gave him a condescending smile. "Oh, I'm not laughing at the fall of the Sith, my boy," he said. "I'm laughing at you."

"At me?" Darovit was taken aback. "What do you mean?"

Draco leaned in close, his eyes glittering with amusement. "You are so easily riled up," he said. "It's amusing, really. I can practically see the steam coming out of your ears."

Darovit bristled, feeling the urge to lash out at the Sith Master. But he held himself back, knowing that it wouldn't accomplish anything.

"I suggest you watch your words, Master Draco," he said through gritted teeth.

Draco's smile widened. "Oh, don't worry, my dear boy," he said. "I know exactly what I'm doing. And right now, I'm simply enjoying the show."

Darovit seethed with anger, but he forced himself to take a deep breath and calm down. He knew that Draco was trying to goad him into losing control, and he wasn't going to give him the satisfaction.

"Fine," he said tersely. "But if you have something important to say, I suggest you say it now."

Draco's expression turned serious, and he straightened up. "Very well," he said. "As I was saying before, we entered hypersleep in the hopes that the Sith would come and rescue us. But how long ago was that distress call sent out?"

He whisked his head all around the room. "You were only rescued by luck, by the foolish natives that stumbled upon you."

Darovit frowned, trying to think. "I…I don't know."

Draco's eyes widened. "You don't know?" he repeated incredulously.

Darovit's mind raced as he tried to make sense of what Draco was saying. "What do you mean?" he asked.

Darovit ordered Dascar to pull up comms. They could read out the date and measure it with the transports ship automated calendar to get a proper estimate of time.

As Dascar checks the date, a sickening feeling starts to grow in the pit of everyone's stomach. The timeline starts to move rapidly, and the numbers seem to blur together. It's been years, decades, centuries even, and they had no idea. Finally, the timeline comes to a halt, and the numbers that flash on the screen make their blood run cold. The year is 100 ABY.

Darovit feels as though the air has been knocked out of him. He stares blankly at the holo, trying to comprehend what he's just seen. Brender is pacing back and forth, muttering to himself about how the galaxy must be in ruins. Dascar looks pale and sick, his eyes flicking back and forth as he tries to process the information.

Draco, on the other hand, seems almost amused by the situation. He chuckles softly to himself, as though he knew this was coming all along. Darovit rounds on him, fury burning in his chest.

"You knew," he hisses, grabbing the Sith Master by the collar. "You knew we were asleep for a hundred years and you said nothing!"

Draco just grins, his eyes glinting dangerously. "I knew, yes," he admits. "But what difference does it make? Time is relative, my boy. One hundred years or one thousand, it's all the same in the grand scheme of things."

Darovit wants to hit him, wants to lash out and make him feel the pain and confusion he's feeling. But he knows that won't solve anything. Instead, he takes a deep breath and tries to make sense of the situation.

"The Jedi, the damned Jedi…" His brother spoke in a snarl.

Brender's words hung heavy in the air like a thick fog. The shock on everyone's faces was palpable. Darovit's mind raced as he tried to process the reality of the situation. He felt a sense of hopelessness creeping in, knowing that the Sith Empire had fallen and the Jedi had emerged victorious.

"How could this happen?" Darovit muttered to himself, trying to make sense of the situation.

Brender looked at him with a mixture of sadness and anger in his eyes. "The Jedi were always strong, brother. We underestimated them."

Darovit felt a surge of anger rising up within him. He couldn't believe that Brender was still so consumed with his hatred for the Jedi that he couldn't see the bigger picture. "This isn't about the Jedi, Brender," he snapped. "This is about the survival of our galaxy."

Brender shook his head, his eyes blazing with fury. "The Jedi are the ones who caused this. They've always been the enemy."

Darovit gritted his teeth, feeling his anger boiling over. He wanted to scream at his brother, to make him see reason. But he knew that it wouldn't do any good. Brender was too far gone, lost in his own anger and hatred.

Instead, Darovit took a deep breath and tried to calm himself down. He knew that he needed to focus on the present and figure out a way to move forward. "We need to figure out what our next move is," he said, his voice steady.

Draco, who had been quiet during the exchange, spoke up. "We can't stay here. We need to find a way to go back to the..."

Darovit shakes his head, looking at Draco with a grave expression. "We can't go back home," he says firmly. The room falls silent as everyone turns to him, their expressions ranging from disbelief to desperation.

Darovit takes a deep breath and begins to explain what happened. "We went into hyperdrive and found ourselves in a black hole," he says, his voice quiet but firm. "The black hole chewed us out and we crashed here. There was no other way to escape, but there are no hyperdrive lanes here, and we can't risk going back into the black hole. Our chances of survival were already zero to none the first time, we just got lucky."

The room is silent as everyone takes in the weight of his words. The realization sinks in that they are truly stranded, with no hope of returning to their homes and families. The sound of breathing and the crackle of the hologram is the only noise for a few moments.

Draco finally breaks the silence, his voice low and menacing. "So, what do we do now?" he asks, his eyes glinting with malice.

Darovit looks down at the planet, a glimmer of hope in his eyes. He had been so lost, so hopeless, but now...now he saw a way forward. A way to rebuild, to reclaim what was lost.

He turned to his crew, the ragtag group of survivors who had been frozen in time for a hundred years. They looked back at him, waiting for his next move.

"We can't go back to space," Darovit said slowly, thinking out loud. "But we don't have to. Look at that planet down there. It's ripe for the taking."

The crew murmured amongst themselves, unsure of what to make of Darovit's words. They had never considered the possibility of living on a planet, let alone conquering one.

But Darovit was undeterred. He extended his hands towards his crew, a spark of conviction in his eyes.

"We are Sith," he declared. "We need an empire to rule. And that planet down there? It will be our new home. We will live as royals, governors, and barons. We will use the power of the force and our might to destroy the four nations."

The crew looked at each other, unsure of what to make of Darovit's grand vision. But slowly, one by one, they began to nod in agreement. There was a sense of excitement in the air, a sense of possibility.

Darovit smirked, feeling a sense of power surge through him. He was a high-ranking Sith, after all. He knew how to lead, how to inspire.

"I declare myself as Imperial Regent Nadd," Darovit said, his voice ringing out with authority.

Brender spoke up then, a frown creasing his brow. "But the Sith of old had different rules, different titles. We need a new name for our new order."

Draco, always the wise one, nodded his agreement. "He's right. We need something that reflects our new mission, our new purpose."

Darovit paused, considering this. He had been so focused on the idea of rebuilding the Sith, he hadn't even considered what that meant for their identity.

But then it hit him. A name, a perfect name.

"The Sith of old were warriors, conquerors," Darovit said slowly, his eyes gleaming. "But we are more than that. We are a legion, united in our purpose, our mission. We are The Legion of The Sith."

The crew nodded in agreement, a sense of purpose now driving them forward. They had a new home to conquer, a new identity to forge.

And with Darovit at the helm, they would not fail.