Lake of Apparitions, Beyond Shadows; 44 ABY
She was so very weak, her bodies destroyed, avatars lost to insects that didn't deserve to worship at the feet of the Beloved Queen of the Stars. She slithered along the surface of the Lake, barely visible, nearly transparent, leaking oily smoke and trailing soot in her wake. She needed an advocate, someone to spread the pain and fear that she needed to recover. She was trapped here, on this realm, unable to interact and influence the other directly. A prisoner of her own creation.
She glided her silvery eyes over the faces before her, some aware, others not, all dark in nature. Her gait took her to the edges of the Lake, where those who'd suffer the worst were kept. Alchemists who'd crafted monsters that violated the very laws of nature, Sorcerers who used arcane rituals to do things from destroying entire solar systems to draining the life out of worlds. No one was spared here, and they all resided in their cells for eternity. That is, unless someone freed them.
Abeloth stopped before an especially decayed cell, inside the furrowed face sneered up at her. ochre eyes glowing from beneath lids. He'd not only defeated Skywalker in the past, but his name was still spoken in whispers in the halls of government for what he'd done. This one could do, but was volatile. She needed someone more controllable, but just as dedicated to the destruction of enemies, her enemies. She turned away, not noticing that the eyes opened behind her, watching. Chains of pot metal rolled beneath his face, the prison ropes of Jedi he'd killed at the end of the Clone Wars and beyond.
And then she came upon her knight, or perhaps 'Prophet' would be more apt given his former life. Weak as she was, violating a prison here was still within her reach. She lowered herself to the water's surface, needle teeth stretched in a grin. The face was unknown to practically everyone, aged and withered from the decay brought about by heavy use of the dark side. "Open your eyes, for me."
The face squirmed, as if it had trouble breathing for a moment, and rose to the surface. As it broke, a layer of smoke formed about it, crowning the now faceless head in crescent mantle. Stars sparkled in the haze, silver and tiny like her own eyes. Slits formed for the shade's own vision and he spoke in a synthesized voice.
"Why have you disturbed my slumber?"
Abeloth suppressed a frown, was that any way to treat a goddess, much less one who would be giving him the honor of serving her? A pale feeler lashed out and wrapped around his neck, the rest of his body faded beneath the waters. "To serve me." She hissed.
"I serve none but the Dark, nothing but eternal destruction." The voice seemed to come from both the bass amalgamation and a frail old man.
"Destruction works for me, and revenge against an old friend of yours: Luke Skywalker." Abeloth loosened her tendril's grip, it was draining to exert her will here.
The slits widened and the bass tone took over completely. "Skywalker?" It hissed.
"And his son."
From under the smoky shell, the cracked lips spread into a sinister smirk and she knew she had him. "What is it you wish me to do?" The Shadow rumbled.
"Spread chaos, misery, despair in your wake." The needle grin spread, "Make those who rejected me pay for their transgression."
"As you wish."
She resumed her full height and her ringlet arms pumped a thick black tar into the water. It boiled and steamed. There were six loud cracks, gates being pried open through absolute will. When it was all over, the cell was empty, drained of water and its detainee. Abeloth collapsed from the effort, she'd just extended her exile for another decade, if her knight wasn't successful.
Over in the far corner, the sulfurous eyes continued to watch, gathering information like a spider at the center of a web. Escape was possible. He just need the right incentive to do it.
Jedi Temple Sleeping Quarters, Shedu Maad; 44 ABY
The light had barely broken the horizon when Ben was at his door. Luke was always an early riser, but his son tended to follow the typical teenage template of sleeping well into noon. Today, however, he arrived just as Luke was finishing his morning meditation, a wild fervent look in his eyes. Eyes, Luke was sorry to see, that still held tiny specks of light.
"She has done something," Ben said as soon as his father opened the door to his quarters.
Unable to fathom just what his son could be referring to, it may have been early but his mind wasn't groggy, Luke quirked an eyebrow. "She?"
"Abeloth," Ben said, and Luke couldn't help but feel a whisper of despair skirting the edges of his mind. She was more durable than anything he'd ever fought before, and just kept coming back.
Waiting for a few seconds, as if he expected his father to say or do something further, Ben jerked his head back to the exit. "Come on, Dad, we need to go see Ves."
Luke suppressed the urge to roll his eyes, "We've been over this, Son, we can't let her out, she's too dangerous."
"I know you're not ready to do that yet, but the sooner you run your tests on me, the sooner she will be. I just need to see her first."
Luke walked over to his dataport and looked back over his shoulder. "Why don't you go ahead, I'll send word down for them to expect you. I need to have a word with the Masters." By the time Luke looked back, Ben was already gone.
Council Chambers, Jedi Temple; 44 ABY
Luke looked around the make-shift chamber, they hadn't really gotten much time to convert Shedu Maad's Academy into a full-fledged base of operations. All the Masters were present, though most only though hologram. Jaina, newly appointed master and currently on her honeymoon, was the first to speak up. "I'm really glad to hear Ben's finally woken up, how's he doing?"
Luke and Cilghal shared a quick look, which spoke volumes to everyone else. Only the two of them knew, but it was time to change that. "Ben . . . " Luke paused, trying to phrase it properly, "isn't quite himself, Jaina. Actually that's why I called this meeting, we need to decide what we're going to do."
Saba Sebatyne's tail twitched, but Corran Horn spoke up first. "Master?"
"What Master Skywalker is trying to say is there seem to be some alterations," Cilghal spoke up, the Council's resident healer, "as a result from drinking and bathing in the Font of Power and Pool of Knowledge respectively."
The shock radiated through the other Masters, and was clearly visible on the faces of those who attended via projection. Jaina's shock had more of a poignant vein. "I was afraid something like that might have happened," she said. "I explained that I found them by the Pool, but they appeared dry. I had hoped it was just a coincidence."
Octa Ramis turned to Luke. "What kind of changes?"
"His eyes now appear to be similar to Abeloth's and Taalon, after he fell into the Pool." Luke shifted uneasily. "He's also been able to know what I'm thinking to an unusual degree. We haven't had time to conduct further tests."
"He also had developed a rather strong attraction to Vestara Khai, who also seems to be sharing the changes Ben is undergoing." Cilghal said, "Though we have yet to remove the ysalamiri since she awakened, so we have no way of knowing if she shares Ben's telepathic prowess."
After the Mon Calamari healer mentioned Vestara, Jaina's frown swiftly morphed into a scowl. "Has anyone told him what she did? The damage she's caused?"
"He seems to already know," Luke said quietly, "And still wants the ysalamiri removed from her cell."
Now other Masters were frowning. Tionne Solusar looked at her husband and back. "What exactly are you asking us to do, Master Skywalker."
Luke looked tired, as if he hadn't gotten much sleep last night, in fact he hadn't. "I don't know. I fear I'm too close to the situation to be able to make a completely objective decision."
With that, he described the events already relayed to he and Cilghal the other day by Ben as to what happened on Abeloth's planet. By the end of the meeting, they'd reached a decision, one they couldn't be sure was the right one, but saw no practical alternative that didn't involve drastic measures.
Somewhere in the Mindor Asteroid Field; 44 ABY
He found himself afloat in deep space. Had he flesh and blood, it would be a most unpleasant death sentence, one he'd passed on subordinates in the past. Now it was a mere inconvenience. Why he returned here was a mystery, but it was unfortunate. At one time, this location had been the base of a carefully laid trap to gain life anew, a failed attempt. But now, this entire system was a ruin. Asteroids all that was left from his Gravity Bombs.
Still, there was life scattered in and among those rocks of ice and metal. No doubt pirates hiding from whatever law enforcement the New Republic sent to patrol this desolate wasteland. Reaching out, he slowly began to drift to the largest concentration of life, a command ship of some kind.
Being the leader of a pirate organization was actually a rather stressful endeavor. Control had been more or less in charge of the Cavrilhu pirates long before he'd officially taken over, but it did serve as a useful test bed for stepping into the limelight. What Zorthip had never understood, what few pirate leaders did, was that successful piracy required a technical mind, and Control had one.
After the falling out they had with the Imperial Remnant and Disra, coinciding with Captain Zorthip's murder at the hands of a Mistrl Shadow Guard, the Cavrilhu pirates needed to relocate. For too long they'd been based in the Amorris system. Control had his eye on the Mindor asteroid belt for years, as a safe back-up, should they ever need it. The residual spectral jamming of the area, due to large deposits of Meltmassif, and tie that in with the horror stories of the system's former occupant, a warlord by the name of Shadowspawn, and it was perfect for a base.
Control had big plans for his reemergence from exile. He'd spent the past year stockpiling ships and weapons. It was in his office aboard the command dreadnaught cruiser, Pugilist, that Control sat hunched over a holographic representation of his armada. A coordinated effort against the nearby shipping lanes would net a hefty profit.
When his office door slid aside, Control was somewhat surprised to see his guards escorting junior communications officer, Cordy Herf, inside. Control looked to the guard on the left. "Rav? What's going on?"
Instead of answering, the muscled sarkan rippled its scales in agitation and glanced at the small human he and the other guard flanked.
"I'm afraid, it's my fault," Herf shrugged nonchalantly and took the seat opposite Control's desk, "I just needed some of your time."
Control scowled, he wasn't nearly as obsessed with protocol as Zorthip had been, but this bordered on insolence, and one couldn't let such things go unpunished. "You have it now, what is it, boy?" Control would have gone further, but something in the back of his mind made him pause, like a primal fear instinct, at what he couldn't fathom. Cordy Herf was just a kid, nothing particularly impressive, though he had a knack for communications, hence his position.
"He is rather spineless, isn't he?" Herf continued as if he saw Control's thoughts written on his face, "I admit not my first choice, but one must work with what one has."
The hair on the back of Control's neck seemed to stand on end and the shiver he'd felt earlier made its way to his stomach. "What are you talking about? What is the meaning of this?"
"I'm having something of a coming out party, funny when looking back my life in this realm both ended and will begin here." Herf sounded wistful, far too much for the inexperienced tech Control knew him to be. "But enough nostalgia, I need information and, as you so inelegantly pointed out, this child doesn't have much in his head besides transistors and nodes."
Herf rose and snapped his fingers. The two guards that had entered with him jumped as if struck with a live wire. They grabbed Control's arms and held him fast. Control could feel a slight pressure in his head, which he attributed to the incomprehensible dream he must be having.
Herf walked over to the edge of the desk and lightly touched his index finger to the pirate leader's forehead. Control suddenly felt disoriented, as if the pressure in his head increased to painful levels. The pressure continued to increase until he buckled under it. There was a soft pop as the pressure subsided and he opened his eyes. The room and everything in it was exactly as it had been before, the same youthful hand outstretched, lightly touching his temple. The air rippled, as if an intense heat had taken over the room. The flesh on the communication officer's hand peeled and singed, being burned away one microscopic layer at a time. Control stared, unable to avert his eyes, until the first blood dripped to the ground.
It wasn't red or bluish, as human blood would appear, but black and oily. It splattered on the synthwood desk and floor, but seemed to double in volume on the journey down. It was soon joined by others as a cascade poured out from the arm, for there was no hand left from the intense heat. The room warped in the heat, the guards melted in their makeshift armor adding to the growing pool of black tar on the floor. The figure on the other side of the desk had burned away to a pearly white skeleton and crumpled into the oil, which had now risen to knee level.
Control found himself rooted in place, unable to make sense of what he saw around him as the black oil began to swirl. The current moved swiftly, rushing past in serpentine coils, and making the level of the oil to raise to waist level; still, he couldn't move. A skeletal hand lunged from beneath the surface and the black tar followed it to create a skin-like covering. The hand was joined by the arm and eventually the entire skeleton rose from the depths. The oil drew up over every bone, coating the figure, filling out the frame. It formed a crescent shape over the skull and dripped down like molten molasses. A pair of jeweled eyes were revealed as more oil dripped away, white and glowing like twin diamonds. The area where the skull's mouth had been opened up. Razor sharp teeth guided the flowing liquid giving the creature a demonic appearance. The waist down was like a great flowing cloak of oil. It reached out, oddly with the same had that had first melted away, and the tar surged forward, covering Control in it's warm, sticky embrace. He tried to scream, but the tar flowed into his mouth and coated his lungs in a burning viscous muck. Panic hyperventilation was all he could do as the lack of oxygen burned away his vision with black splotches. His last conscious thought was that he was drowning and nothing could save him.
The young communications officer withdrew his hand, perfectly unharmed by the fearful illusions he'd inflicted on the poor pirate as he extracted the information he wanted. Eyes closed, the shadow within the boy's body let out a shuddering breath. So much has changed. The New Republic, no, now it was the Galactic Alliance, was secured as the primary galactic government, the Jedi Order rebuilt, the Empire a shell of its former glory. Such a waste!
The boy's eyes snapped open. milky white covered his irises and cornea, pure pearl orbs that gave nothing away. The guards he'd been controlling were still holding the unconscious pirate leader. "Take him to the brig," Herf said, his voice taking on an unnatural bass tone. They left as quickly as physically possible.
Alone now, the ghost contemplated the situation. His only directive was destruction, which was all he would do anyway. What he truly wanted, though, was revenge. Luke Skywalker was now famous as the Jedi Order's Grand Master, even scum pirates knew that. He'd faced the Jedi here all those years ago when he'd tried to take Skywalker's body for his own. Now, he could have any he wished. He'd chosen this particular one because of his latent connection to the Dark, what lesser minds would call Force sensitivity.
What he needed know was information. Knowledge was power, and if he was to gain his vengeance on the Jedi Master, there was a legion of Jedi Knights in the galaxy he could take it from. Walking to the viewport, a shimmering shape overshadowed Herf. The crescent-shaped head, seething eyes, and clawed hands flexed. It had been too long since the galaxy truly felt the embrace of oblivion, but that would change soon. The hammer fall would start with the Jedi, with their vaulted Grand Master, and the mindless denizens would look on in horror as the edifices of protection crumbled around them. It was good to be back.
Jedi Temple Detention Center Medical Wing, Shedu Maad; 44 ABY
Ben could tell that the previous night would have been difficult for Vestara, he hadn't gotten much sleep, as if a part of himself was missing. Still, he was surprised to see the stress in her body before he opened the cell door. Her muscles were tensed as she sat on the edge of the bed, clad in a thin hospital-like gown.
"Ves?" He called as the cell do slid open.
She turned quickly and took him in quickly, noting the detached worry that resided at the edge of his thoughts. "Ben, what's wrong? What happened?" She asked, her gaze softening as her golden irises dulled to auburn and then to brown.
"She's done something," Ben said without preamble.
"What? When?"
"I felt the change when I woke, she's done something in Beyond Shadows. I'm not sure what." Ben plopped down beside her on the bed.
Vestara curled her hands into fists and let out a irritated groan. "I can't feel anything in here, Ben. It's not natural; I'm having a hard time controlling myself." She looked away, "I need to get out of here."
"You've just got to stay strong, Ves, give them time and they'll do what they need to." Ben said before he smirked, "I guess this would be a bad time to bring up the 'I told you so' about the Font, isn't it?"
Vestara turned back and gave a rueful scowl. "It was never like this before," she said, then got a glint of mischief in her eyes, "and asking about brining something up is bringing it up."
"How crass of me."
Almost apologetic, she lowered her head. "It's too late to change it, Ben. I don't have much of a choice left, your father is right about that."
"Perhaps," he admitted, "but no matter what you can do, it's how you use it that matters."
"Always the optimist."
"I try, isn't that why you keep me around—"
The cell door glided open and both his father and Cilghal were outside. They both looked calm and normal, but both Ben and Vestara saw the edge in their posture. "Ben," Luke said, "it's time to go for those tests we talked about."
Somewhat reluctant to leave the cell, Ben gave a little wave goodbye and joined the two Jedi outside. The ride up to the main medical wing was a short one, and Luke decided that it would be better to get the bombshell out of the way earlier rather than later. "I spoke with the Council while you were down here and we've decided it would be best if you and Vestara didn't interact while we're trying to figure out what is happening to you two."
Well outside the Ysalamiri sphere of influence, the shock and dismay was clear coming from his son. "That's a bad idea, Dad." Ben warned, "You need to listen to what I've been saying. Keeping her caged isn't the answer."
"If you can't accept this, it may be best if you were placed under observation," Luke tried to say it as diplomatically as possible, but it was an ultimatum no matter how you looked at it. The Council just couldn't let Vestara out and risk her escaping to cause untold damage, a budding Abeloth in the making.
"I think that would be best, too." Ben voice cracked as he said it. As much as he wanted to convince his father, he wouldn't lie.
"Ben," Cilghal said gently, placing a hand on his shoulder, "we're going to start with an electroencephaloscan."