Dreadnaught-class Heavy Cruiser, Pugilist, Chrelythiumn System; 44 ABY

Abeloth could feel herself growing in strength. The fear and destruction her servant had sown was nourishing, she had chosen well. The tiny part of herself that she'd sent along with the malevolent Prophet longed to take a new host, she was nearly ready. Once she did, it would not be a strong avatar, but one to regain her foothold in this realm. That was why she needed a body that could channel the Force like no other, and they were headed to a world where three such bodies may still exist. It may have been morbid seeking to inhabit the corpse of one of her children or husband, but necessity demanded adherence to a higher standard than mere ethics. She would unite this galaxy with their love of her, their worshipful cries of adulation.

"How do we enter it?" Her advocate asked, now perhaps more. Could he begin to replace the family she desired? A new Son to her service?

The drifting structure was like the architecture of old, the beautiful works her Family had built on their world, her future prison. She couldn't reach out with his powers, but she still knew the caliber of what could be built. Fly to it and it will open for you.

Her new Son was restless, straining under the firm grip she kept on him. But what else could a mother do to a wild child? In time he would grow to appreciate her, as she was certain her original family would have, if they hadn't abandoned her. Take a shuttle, there need not be anyone but us.

Mortis; 44 ABY

They traveled over the surface, electing to avoid the underground passageway that led back to their ship. As they walked along the path, suspiciously free of the lush plant life that framed either side, they saw it react to Ben and Vestara's presence. Ben's side blossomed and swelled, like life pouring into them. Vestara's withered and shriveled, flaking off to reveal white-veined roots beneath. Luke was forced to think back to his conversation with his father. He hadn't told them what had transpired in the cave, and he suspected they had a vision of their own. It was the only explanation of how they knew where the Dagger would be, but they weren't any more inclined to talk of it than he was of his own, so he left it at that.

Time was no longer standing still, darkness descended on the land, a storm front rolling in at unusual speed. The pitter patter of raindrops roared from under the clouds. They had barely enough time to raise their hoods before the wall of water drenched them. Ben hid under his cloak and turned to the other two. "Not that I don't like hiking in a monsoon, but maybe we should find shelter?"

Vestara gave a rueful smirk. "At least it's not—"

Crack.

The bolt of lightning struck a tree not then yards from them, lighting it up in all its white-veined glory and splitting it in two.

"You had to say it, didn't you?" Ben demanded. Another bolt hit the side of the towering mountain they'd been walking beside and debris rained down on them with the water.

Luke looked around and didn't see anything that could possibly give them shelter from the storm, not with the strength and frequency of those strikes. Leading them to a clearing, Luke dropped into a cross-legged position.

"You want to meditate now?" Vestara asked, incredulous, as another tree split.

"Hassat-durr," Luke responded.

"Has-a-what?" Vestara was starting to think the Jedi Master had lost his mind.

Ben, on the other hand, knew what his father was talking about. He pulled Vestara down and took the same position as Luke. He hadn't learned the technique, but he and Vestara could funnel their power to his father. Vestara gave him a skeptical look, but did as he wanted, trusted him when she wouldn't for anyone else.

Luke could feel what Ben was doing. Keeping his concentration was difficult under ideal circumstances, but stamina would have been a grave issue if the storm lasted too long. Ben and Vestara's power flowed in like a rushing river, each with their own alignment flavor. Vestara's strong and forceful, Ben's supple and soothing. Luke suffused his body with electromagnetism. If an unskilled user did this, they would be repeatedly struck by lightning, but a proficient one could draw the bolts away. He settled himself in for a long, and wet, night.

Cronal had ignored Abeloth's dictate that he travel alone to the gate, he had no intention of piloting himself anywhere. The old Republic-era Eta-class shuttle was an anachronism, but still functioned well enough to enter the superstructure before them. The blinding light was harsh, burning even, but Cronal forced his host's eyes to look. When the light faded, they were in trouble. The shuttle was thrown and buffeted about by a massive storm. Rolling clouds and forks of lightning split the sky. "Land the ship," he barked to the pilot, who was wrestling with the yoke for his life.

Aiming for a mass of small hills, the only open area in the vicinity, the pilot activated the landing procedures. On its way down, the shuttle was rocked as a small bolt found purchase on the topside fin. The damage was more aesthetic than functional, but the ship dropped, ruining the landing gear in the process.

Cronal was thrown to the ground and clamored back to his feet. The shuttle was not a suitable shelter in a storm of this magnitude. Deciding that he wanted to keep the pilot around to ferry him off world when this was over, he dragged the drone out to the rain. There, atop one hill with a litany of steps to the summit was a small building. With a speed he'd not had been physically capable of when he was alive before, Cronal raced up the steps in the pouring rain, pilot ambling behind. At the top, he found a stone slab blocking what he assumed to be the door. Using the Force to slide it aside, they hurried inside, slab rolling back behind them.

Looking around the empty room, Cronal found himself curious. "What is this place?"

A tomb

She sounded . . . abnormally excited about that. Not that Cronal held any unfounded squeamishness for the dead, but neither did he care for bodies. It was only the act that caused such a state that interested him, the more violent the better.

The sarcophagus. Open it!

The storm raged outside, but Cronal could see a raised slab on the ground. From his study of history, he knew carved into the face was an ancient symbol of Jedi and Sith when the groups had first broken apart. With a minor push, it slid aside, uncovering a tall woman lain in rest. Cronal felt the tentacle in him curl, twitching in excitement. She was ecstatic, this world was a conduit of Force power. Here, more than anywhere else, she could interact with it in her weakened form. He dropped to his knees in pain and felt it worm its way out of his spirit. Like a snake, it slithered down into the crypt and into the corpse's mouth. Green eyes flashed open and the body began to spasm, trying to rid itself of the violation. It turned and thrashed about before a calmness settled upon it.

She opened her eyes, she was risen from the ashes again. Lithely sitting up, she felt her body acclimate itself to her control. Fitting that her child should serve even after death. She rose and looked at the two being inside the tomb with her. Her servant still crouched in pain from her leaving him, but that was only a minor thing. Now they would never be apart. The pilot looked on dumbly at the woman, she opened her arms. "Come to me."

As if waking from a trance, the pilot rushed to the beautiful creature that beckoned to him. She place her hands on his cheeks and kissed deeply. His mind filled with lust, the unfortunate man realized only too late that the woman's tongue forced its way further than was physically possible into his throat. He felt like he was aging a lifetime in mere seconds.

Once the woman had drained all the life force from the expendable pilot, she turned her ear-to-ear grin and silver-stared eyes to her servant, only to see the revulsion on his host's face. It was then she knew he could only ever be a tool. Spirits could not undergo the change she needed for her family. He may possess the body, but would never have the mentality. He would still be useful, though, a knight to sow destruction on her enemies.

"Rise and bask in the glow of your Beloved Queen of the Stars."

Abeloth had returned.

The storm subsided as quickly as it had come. The destroyed trees re-growing to their former glory moments after the last drop of water fell. Things changed here more rapidly than they could imagine. Luke felt drained, he'd channeled the power to deflect the lightning, but it was a tasking affair. Ben and Vestara looked similarly tired. "Should we take a rest?"

They agreed, Vestara adding, "and eat."

That piqued Luke's interest, as they'd both said they couldn't eat on the Shadow. He felt Ben drawing in power from the life of the world. "What are you doing?"

Ben looked slightly guilty, embarrassed with what they had to do to survive, but his father would understand, eventually. "Eating," he mumbled.

Luke understood when Vestara took his hands and started to drain the life energy away, like a leech drawing blood. He'd seen their changed appearances and their new level of power they wielded, but this felt dangerously close to what Abeloth did.

"No, it's different," Vestara said after breaking off contact with Ben, looking more healthy, but tone contrite. "We need to do it, it's the only way other than Abeloth's we know of to survive."

"We aren't hurting anything," Ben added. "It's just excess energy."

It was true, the surrounding plants appeared unharmed. Luke couldn't believe how easily they'd taken to this to survive, then again they had more time to get used to the idea than he did. What would he do in their place? That was something that he really hadn't thought of until now.

"I feel something," Ben said, voice detached. "There's other people here."

Ruby sparks in Vestara's eyes flickered. "She's here, with him."

"Abeloth and Cronal are here?" Luke couldn't keep the strain from his voice, this wasn't good. Abeloth shouldn't have been able to reform so quickly. "We need to move."

They were able to transverse the distance to the Father's Monastery before another storm could blow in. Unlike the other two homes, this one was in ruins. The walls were cracked and crumbling. Shards of what had once been a mammoth crystal littered the surrounding land. Once they reached the top of the steps, they entered the building itself.

A long bridge, held aloft over grey mists, led to this version of a throne. a stone gryphon and gargoyle guarding a small plateau that looked more suited to a meditation mat than a throne. Circular pedestals lined the walkway to the stone centerpiece. The path bifurcated to either side.

"Time to split up?" Vestara asked.

"No," Ben insisted, "not with Abeloth here. We need to stay together."

They took the path to the left, walls lined with interlocking stone masonry. There were tangent rooms, but the main path led them to an arena. It had eight entrances from all around. The main area a swirl of black and white marble, arrayed in an interlocking mesh of symmetry. None of this was what stopped them short, though. At the center of the stadium, reaching down to pick up the very weapon they sought from a pair of withered bodies, one eerily similar to the one they'd encountered before, were two figures. They turned to Vestara's shocked cry.

The smaller one held the Dagger, and Luke was startled to find he recognized the man. "Tamish?" The Jedi Knight was thought to be dead.

The Jedi gave a malicious grin. "Skywalker, we meet again."

Luke narrowed his eyes. "Cronal."