Epilogue

Lorrik and Jresh stood at the edge of the wounded floor, gazing out into skyline beyond the open face of the vault chamber. Pillars of smoke and fire rose above the spires of the ecumenopolis, a constant reminder of the destruction wrought by the invasion. But even as the city burned, the Sith felt at ease. They were alive. They had succeeded. They now had the chance to give the acolytes their lives back, give them a place within the Empire. It would require sacrifice, it would earn the ire of the traditionalists in power, but they had the option they had so desperately searched for these past days, past weeks, past months.

Behind the apprentices, a small group of Imperials in civic garb ferried items from the eleventh vault through the building's interior, to the nearby outcropping where Thorel's shuttle had docked. Tash's apprentice had led the injured Syrosk down to the landed vessel, to the confusion of the ship's pilot. When the vault was emptied, when Lorrik and Jresh were ready to depart, they would leave together aboard that shuttle. They would visit the other apprentices and their allies, help them load up their ship with the artifacts ignored by Tash's people. But for now, the apprentices were content to gaze out toward the evening sky, side by side.

"I can't believe we did it," Lorrik softly stated. The Human stood upright, having regained control of his body. He was still tired beyond belief, and much of his right side was still covered in burnt flesh and dark lines arcing up and down his arm, but in that moment he was content.

"Somehow, I didn't think this is how it would all pan out," Jresh admitted, trying to maintain his stoicism despite the weakness pervading his body.

"Today, or the past two years?" Lorrik offered alongside a chuckle. The Pureblood cracked a hesitant smile, playing off his partner's revelry. Before the two could continue their conversation, one of the Imperials approached them from behind.

"Excuse me, sirs," the sheepish male spoke up. Lorrik turned to face the individual, who had his hands cupped around a shining object. An amulet baring a red jewel, as well as a broken chain. "We found something in the refuse below. Shall we put it with the other items?"

"I'll take it. Thanks," Lorrik politely stated. With a respectful nod, the Imperial offered the amulet to the inquisitor before backing away without another word. Holding the item in his right hand, a soft luminance began to pulse from deep within the crimson jewel.

"So. What next?"

The eleventh vault had been emptied. Lorrik and Jresh had retreated to the shuttle with Thorel and Syrosk. The vessel's cargo bay contained the gathered spoils of two vaults, as well as the body of Tash at his apprentice's request, to receive a proper burial. The ship lifted itself from its landing struts and began making the rounds to the others vaults, delivering to the other apprentices the news of their victory. One by one the vaults were visited, sounding the call for a return home. One vault, however, had already been completely abandoned. Vault Six had already been cleared out, and its attackers had long since fled, taking their spoils with them. The attackers of Vault Four, the two brothers formerly under the employ of Tash, had loaded up their shuttle and departed alongside the other apprentices, keeping a close eye on their cut, but not running away with it.

Passing through the Coruscanti atmosphere, the shuttles darted around the scattered debris of orbital stations and ships, ready to jump into hyperspace. Their eyes set on Dromund Kaas, the Sith left the Republic capital to burn under the heel of Imperial might. Or so they thought. Long after they had returned home, the apprentices learned of the apparent ploy enacted by the Emperor. They had gone into the core world expecting it to be razed, that after setting in their sights the home of the Jedi, the Sith would do everything in their power to see it utterly destroyed. But such was not the case.

In its state of extreme duress, the Republic was forced to sign a peace treaty to save their home. The previous call for peace that was intended only to lure them into a false sense of security had actually been followed through with after all. The war was over. The Empire had won.

And so had the apprentices. So had the acolytes. After all their trials, after all their sacrifices, they had finally ascended. And in their ascension, their lives were their own. The time had come for the apprentices to go their separate ways. The pairs would not readily shed the bonds they had forged, but they each had their own plans for the future.

0 ATC

Korriban. The Academy. Even though the war was over, things were far from peaceful on the Sith's ancestral homeworld. There was a fervor in the institution's occupants, some relishing in their victory over their ancient foes, others furious that they weren't able to partake in the ultimate battle. But the students and instructors continued as they always had. The Empire always needed Sith. Now more than ever to replace those who had fallen.

Deep within the Academy, Lord Syrosk stood in the center of a grand chamber, his right leg replaced with a prosthetic. A circle of thrones surrounded him as monumental statues cast their stony gaze upon the visitor. Twelve seats. Not all occupied. Some filled with physical bodies, others with holograms, others still went completely unfilled, their owners absent or fallen. A meeting had been called, between the Dark Council and a lone petitioner.

"Esteemed Councilors. My name is Syrosk," the alien began. "Sith Lord, apprentice of Darth Omnus, and servant to the Empire for over fifty years. I took part in the first and final battles of the Great War. I, along with my master, provided the Order its favored sons and daughters, seeking out Force-sensitive children and delivering them to the Academies since before we revealed ourselves to the galaxy. I have given my life to the Empire, time and time again, even when it didn't ask me to. I believe in the superiority of the Sith. I believe in the efficiency of the Empire. I have followed the Code, as have my students. But it is a Sith's right, a Sith's duty, to improve. To seek perfection. And after decades of living amongst the Empire, its imperfect nature has become more and more apparent. Selfishness runs rampant throughout its core. Not the kind that drives someone forward. Not the kind that instills confidence and pride. The kind that causes Sith to turn against their own rather than focus their attention on our enemies. Rather than challenging ourselves, we seek to remove challenge from our lives. We strike one another down because we perceive them as threats. We deny potential strength over fears of pride and sovereignty. We've eschewed our most basic and sacred tenets in favor of biased traditions and pithy motives. Who are we to deny strength? To deny power? The Sith were born from those who had been held back, restrained in their studies, unpermitted to harness the Force in all its forms. Now we do the same to our own. There are those willing to fight and die for the Empire, for the Sith, but we deny them because of perceived inferiority. Because we believe they sully the reputation of the pure blooded. I would understand the hesitance to invite weakness into our midst, but do we not possess the means to discern the weak from the strong beyond petty ideals? A Sith's worth ought be measured by their skill. So long as the Force flows through their veins, what does it matter the purity of their blood? Aliens. Slaves. Impurities. There are those willing to devote themselves, those willing to face the trials, those willing to live and die in service of the Empire. Almost a hundred students, whom the Order would consider unworthy, fought in the Battle of Coruscant. Jedi and Republic defenders alike fell by their hands. Due to their efforts, they recovered the largest cache of Sith and dark side artifacts in our recent history. They are not weak. They are strong. But some would fear their inclusion because of their heritages, despite the fact that the Empire is stronger due to their efforts. And all they ask in return is recognition. They've handed over their spoils, wanting only a place in the Empire, wanting only to be seen as Sith. We may have won the war, but we did not avoid loss. Sith from the lowliest acolytes to members of the Dark Council perished in the final hours of the our conflict. Our ranks will need to be replenished. The standard supply of worthy children will not be sufficient. If the Sith are to survive, they must be willing to adapt."

The present councilors stared down the alien Lord, their chins resting on interwoven fingers. The figures of immense power remained stoic to the petitioner's pleas, but his words did not fall on deaf ears. They had listened, and each person had their opinions on the matter, but none were willing to speak. Some found something of worth in Syrosk's words. Others were utterly reviled by the suggested notions. Most remained indifferent, willing to form an opinion only after being sure of its consequence.

But one councilor was willing to speak. A dark figure, garbed head to toe in armored robes, face concealed beneath a hood and all-encompassing mask. The Darth possessed a powerful frame, and an even more oppressive aura. Simply standing in his presence was to bask in the dark side.

"We are aware of the actions your students have taken," the councilor declared, his voice utterly low and penetrative. "Their efforts have proven them capable, worthy of a place within the Empire. But now is not the time for haphazard inclusion and change. Even in victory, even in defeat, we maintain our strength. Until such circumstances arise that such is no longer true, Academy standards will not be lowered. Dismissed."

Syrosk dutifully bowed his head, offering no further words as he turned on his heels and moved toward the chamber exit with an uneven pace.

Outside the council chambers, the alien Lord slowly made his way toward the Academy halls, favoring his left leg. His sluggish pace meant it was easy for someone to catch up with him.

"A fine speech," a regal voice softly called out. "Not the best I've heard, but remarkable given the setting and speaker."

Syrosk turned to see an elderly Pureblood garbed in long, ornate robes calmly walking toward him. The alien offered a respectful dip of his head. "Darth Vowrawn."

"It's a shame they weren't more reticent to your pleas," Vowrawn politely stated. The Dark Councilor exuded a level of charm and charisma that rivaled Tash, a fact that simultaneously endeared and unsettled the Sith Lord. "If there's anyone whom understands the importance of a numbers game, it is I. But all things in time, I suppose. Restrictions will eventually be lifted to replace the dwindling number of Sith acolytes."

"We can only hope," Syrosk muttered. "But at least my acolytes will have a place amongst Sith now."

"They'll be just as hated, overworked, and undervalued," Vowrawn bluntly stated. "But what is a Sith without a little hardship? Now they're free to live as they wish, and I'm free to renovate the under halls of the Academy now that they're no longer being used. What about you? What are your plans for the future?"

"I don't know. The acolytes no longer need me. And with nothing left to teach them, I've parted ways with my apprentices," Syrosk explained.

"It's a shame about the two you reported as killed during the invasion," Vowrawn playfully stated. "Then again, there's practically no way to confirm them as casualties."

"They wanted out. I provided them means to do so," Syrosk declared. "Those who wished to remain as Sith are ingratiating themselves into the Order proper. But from now on, how they live their lives is up to them."

"And what of your life? Surely you're not content with retirement?" Vowrawn suggested. "You know, you and your master provided an unmatched service to Production and Logistics. I know of a way you could make yourself useful."

"I'm no longer a Seer," Syrosk admitted. "If you need someone to find Force-sensitives, you'll need to find someone else."

"Oh, no. What I propose is much more conducive to your current skillset," Vowrawn declared. "It's not your visions I'm after, but your capabilities as a mentor. You've taken individuals of relatively little worth, and elevated them to truly remarkable levels. I'd like to see what you could do with students of exceptional promise."

"You want me as an instructor?" Syrosk asked.

"No, nothing so mundane. I have a special project I've been putting together. One I believe you'd be very interested in," Vowrawn declared. "And after all, you still owe me for all the shuttle's I've lent you, as well as helping the Thorel boy with his debts."

The Sith Lord eyed the regal Darth, finding no answers behind his charming visage.

"Alright. What did you have in mind?"

"So who is it we're supposed to be meeting with?"

"I don't know. Some hotshot artifact hunters."

"Artifact hunters? Like, that's all they do?"

"No, but that's what they're known for. And they're pretty damned good at it. I hear they're the ones who masterminded that heist on Coruscant. You know, the one that took place at the same time as the invasion?"

"What? No way. They're the guys?"

"Yeah. And whatever you're looking for, they can find it. They say what needs saying, do what needs doing, everything."

"Who's their master?"

"Don't got a master."

"But who do they serve? Who do they report to?"

"No one. They're independent. Completely. No masters, no apprentices. They bounce between the spheres with no permanent station. Lets them operate as they see fit whilst stepping on as few toes as possible."

"Gentlemen," a confident voice interrupted from across the room.

The two Imperials looked up to see two men standing side by side at the chamber's entrance. One was a Human, face soft yet utterly determined and carrying a warm glint. The other was a Pureblood, standing tall and firm, visage unfalteringly stoic.

"Lorrik and Jresh, at your service."

The End

Afterword: Thanks for reading, everyone. I always welcome thoughts, ideas, and comments, especially from those who have made it through the entire story. This one may be over, but I've others in the works, including sequels based off some of the characters in this story, so any feedback would be greatly appreciated. I hope you enjoyed the read.