Pale white flames flickered and danced over the surface of the silently burning pillar, casting the commandos' shadows toward the chasm. After realizing that Quinlan was gone, Hunter had taken a single step toward gaping hole. That was all the farther he'd gotten.

Now, he stood motionless, gripping his half-drawn knife in one hand as he cast his gaze around for the second time. He'd already located the tracks that showed where the Jedi had gone. Now, he was all but willing himself to find other tracks – tracks that lead anywhere except where he was already seeing them.

The room was unnaturally quiet for several seconds, and then the deep tones of a distant, massive bell rang out from beneath their feet, echoing up through the shadowed hole in the floor.

"Hunter . . . ?" Wrecker said slowly. "Did'ja hear that?"

"The bell?" No matter how he tried, Hunter couldn't find any fresh tracks, except for the ones that led to the hole in the floor.

"Yeah," said Wrecker. "It doesn't sound . . . right, somehow."

"I heard it." Hunter took a deep, slow breath, then hit the back of his left hand against the wall with an irritated shout. "Augh! Why'd he go down there?!"

Crosshair shook his head once. "I don't think he did."

"He did not," Tech said quietly, and held out the Jedi's lightsaber.

Hunter accepted the weapon and clipped it to his belt almost automatically.

"Guess we'll have to go down after him," Wrecker said uneasily. "Do you think –"

A silent but tangible pulsing drowned out the rest of Wrecker's words, and Hunter turned away from him to listen better. A few times before, while waiting in a quiet medbay, he had become aware of the heartbeats of the sleeping troopers nearest to him. Tech said it was because he had felt the electrical impulses from their hearts, produced by the sinus node in the right atrium. . .

Hunter tilted his head. Why was that even relevant? He couldn't remember what he had been thinking about just now, no matter how he tried – it was like trying to think through a cold fog. Hunter shut his eyes and retraced his thought process backwards. Electrical impulses. Hearts. Heartbeats. That strange pulsing which had reminded him of a slow heartbeat, but wasn't electrical, and which came from beneath them. . . and was almost, but not quite, non-physical.

A touch on his arm made him jump violently and turn.

"Hunter," Tech said. "The storm has stopped."

Hunter glanced at the datapad, then at Tech, who said, "Maybe I can locate Quinlan and Vythia . . ."

"You don't need to," Hunter said grimly. "We know where they are."

Tech studied him questioningly. "Yes."

"We've gotta get started," Wrecker said, taking a step forward. He moved a bit unsteadily, but still, but he moved.

Hunter followed. He had never wanted to do anything less in his life. There was something about that cavernous blackness that seemed to forbid him and his team from approaching it. But Wrecker was already at the edge of the chasm, and Crosshair was hovering behind him. . . And Tech acted completely unconcerned. . .

His squad mates were prepared to head into the darkness, and Hunter was afraid to follow. But he kept walking, because he couldn't let them go without him.

By the time he reached the others, Tech had already taken a few steps down the stone stairway which, Hunter saw, spiraled tightly around the rectangular inner edges of the shaft.

Crosshair hesitated, but only a few seconds passed before he drew his pistol and followed Tech. Wrecker focused determinedly on the wall, keeping one hand against it as he also started down.

Not once in his life had Hunter ever thought of himself as a coward, until now. As he wavered on the precipice, all could think about was calling his squad back, ordering them to leave Trayus. He could almost hear himself saying the words. The storm had stopped, they could reach the Marauder within ten minutes and get out. They had to leave anyway, the leviathan might be able to move soon. And Vythia didn't need rescuing – even if she did, he'd already risked his squad for her too many times.

The stairs spiraled away beneath Hunter even though he hadn't even stepped onto the first one; and despite the glow of the white lanterns, it was getting harder and harder to see.

"Bad Batch," he said, hearing his own words distantly as the others turned to look up at him. But Hunter never gave the order to retreat. There was someone else to be considered, he was sure – if only he could remember who it was.

"Hunter?" Wrecker asked.

The sergeant glanced at him, then back at the floor far below. Wrecker tilted his head in confusion, but Tech and Crosshair simply waited, looking up at him.

"What is it?" Wrecker asked, and shoved his helmet back on his head. "We need to hurry. What do you want?"

I want to get out of here. But his teammates seemed to think there was someone else in the Core, someone that needed their help. More confused than ever, Hunter lowered his hands to hang at sides.

The fingers of his right hand brushed the hilt of a lightsaber, and he blinked. Why in space was he carrying a Jedi's weapon?

Before he could ask, though, Crosshair moved. Apparently, the sniper had gotten tired of waiting for his response, because he was headed down the stairway toward Tech, who also kept walking. Then, with a final glance at Hunter, Wrecker followed them, keeping his gaze on the wall so he wouldn't see the drop to his left.

Hunter clenched one hand, frozen in indecision. In the end, though, he couldn't let them go down by themselves. Drawing his knife, Hunter took a quiet breath and followed after his team.

It wasn't until the fifth step down that he remembered.


Quinlan stared down at the simplistic image drawn in fresh blood on the pale surface of the altar. It was a phoenix, with wings that reached over its head.

He looked up at Vythia, who continued to study the scroll she'd found near the statue of the female Sith. She didn't seem to notice him, or the swirls of what appeared to be smoke around her.

The inky darkness coiled up her body and slithered down over her shoulders in narrow ropes, spilling onto the altar and then reaching again for her as they traced and retraced their silent path.

Quinlan tried to warn her, but when he couldn't speak, he thought he remembered that he was dreaming. As the realization sank in, the desperate feeling from before all but vanished until he was watching her as though in a trance, unable to intervene and unable to care.

Setting aside the scroll, Vythia picked up Lothal's mask and stared into the eyeholes, which glowed red. Quinlan watched Vythia's eyes, unable to look away, as – images? – from the mask's eyes reflected in her own. He thought he saw shapes of people . . . maybe something the mask had seen.

His vision faded out again, and when it returned Vythia had set the mask down on the altar and was picking up the second scroll.

Still feeling distant and only half-aware, Quinlan reached across the altar and touched the cool metal of the mask. Immediately, the stiff golden features of the Zabrak twisted into his real face, and the glowing red eyes were replaced by the living yellow eyes of Lord Lothal.

Startled, Quinlan tried to pull his hand away from the mask. He didn't want to see any more memories from the Sith, but he couldn't seem to move. He had just been dreaming, he thought it was just a dream. Even so, he shouldn't have touched the mask, but he had, and now – too late – he understood, in a strangely clear way, both the mask and why it had been made.

The next instant the mask had reverted back to its usual appearance, but Quinlan still couldn't let go. This time, he wasn't seeing the memories; he was remembering them, as though they were something he himself had witnessed.

Lord Lothal had been psychometric. He wasn't clever enough or powerful enough to design rituals on his own, but he was clever enough to take the idea of another Sith lord and duplicate it. With his unusual abilities, he had made the mask and worn it, using it in secret to record certain of his own memories, memories of watching his master while she designed and performed her rituals . . . Two specific ones in particular. The two that were on the scrolls, the scrolls Vythia kept returning to.

One was the ritual where Darth Zenaya had killed her master as a test, while Lord Lothal had watched. Lothal hadn't been looking at Zenaya's master when he died, so at first Quinlan didn't know who it was; but Lothal had glanced back as he left the room, concerned that Zenaya would do the same to him, because the ritual had worked.

Then, through Lothal's memory, Quinlan saw that Ghant sitting on his throne, newly dead. Zenaya had placed the scroll detailing her ritual into Ghant's hand, leaving the body of her master to guard her secrets against the time when they would be needed. She left him where he died, turned his throne room into a tomb, and sealed it.

That memory ended, and Quinlan couldn't reach the others. Then a hand rested on his shoulder, and he was suddenly able to pull away from the mask.

"Quinlan?" Vythia was standing in front of him, looking mildly confused as she studied his face.

He wondered how she could see him inside his own dream – vision. . . Maybe she'd been able to see him all along, but hadn't been paying attention.

She tugged at his shoulder to pull him a step forward, then asked curiously, "Why did you come after me?"

Quinlan followed without resisting as she drew him closer to the altar. "I didn't."

The bell tolled again, from above this time; and Quinlan looked up. He saw the wavering image of a tower above the black bent pillars. There had been one there, once, built to hold the iron bell that had long since fallen into the depths.

By now, Vythia had guided him back to the altar. Quinlan looked down and touched it idly.

The floor trembled with the next clang of the lost bell, and everything dreamlike vanished at once. Abruptly, Quinlan understood where he was. He was aware of the green light from the chasm and the narrow dark bridge that spanned it, leading back towards safety, and he was aware of the four statues watching from outside the central circle. It hadn't been a dream. Something had dragged him down here, not just his mind.

Drawing in a choked breath, he took a step away from Vythia and nearly fell beneath the crushing weight of the Dark Side as it pulsed up from the core of the planet. As soon as he resisted, it tried to push him to the ground. Quinlan dropped to his knees, fighting to keep from landing flat on his face.

Vythia gazed down at him, still looking confused. Then a flicker of anxiety crossed her face, and she turned to look around the empty Core.

Quinlan struggled to meet her eyes, heart pounding as he understood that the presence wanted him here, and would not let him leave. "Vythia –!"

She studied the altar in realization, then looked down at him. "I must have done it wrong," she murmured. "Why did you come down here, Quinlan?"

"I didn't!" He heaved a breath as the pressure continued to increase. "I thought it was a vision!"

"Then the ritual must have realized I needed you," Vythia said, speaking more to herself than to him. She narrowed her eyes, then reached towards him.

"Vythia?" he cried, voice rising in panic as he jerked away. "What are you doing?"

She grimaced faintly, once; then her lips thinned in determination. In an instant, she had stepped around behind him, caught his wrists, and was twisting them against his upper back. As soon as she caught him, the crushing power from overhead vanished.

Quinlan fought, lunging forward and twisting to one side. Vythia was caught off-guard for a moment, but she released him before he could throw her, and he hit the ground on his hands and knees. As he started to get up, she got a forearm against his throat and yanked him back to a kneeling position, her free arm looped through both of his.

"Do not struggle," she said, close to his ear. "I have more strength than you as it is, and this will be over more quickly if you cooperate."

"No – what are you doing?!" Quinlan wrenched an arm free, jabbed his thumb into the underside of her wrist, and wrenched at it. As soon as he gained enough room, he rotated and drove his elbow into her sternum.

Letting out a surprised cough, Vythia released him. Quinlan twisted around on his knees and flung himself forward, tackling her around the ankles. As she staggered backwards into the altar's edge, landing with both elbows against its surface, Quinlan jumped up and reached for his belt. His lightsaber wasn't there.

Vythia blinked and straightened, watching him warily. "You seem to have forgotten your weapon," she stated, reaching for her lightwhip. "Come, Quinlan; this is truly pointless now."

"What do you want?" he demanded sharply, taking a step back, towards the bridge.

The lightwhip's yellow blade crackled into life and sputtered in a long coil against the stone at Vythia's feet. "I only need you here for a few minutes," she said, her tone low and reasonable as she drew her knife. "You will be unnecessarily injured if you continue to resist."

Quinlan took another step back. "What do you need me for?"

Her eyes flickered to the corner of the altar, at the open metal cuff that had been embedded into its surface.

Quinlan's breath caught in his throat, and he leaped forward, aiming a hard blow at her face. Vythia ducked, barely dodging the blow in time as she dropped her whip in favor of pushing his forearm aside. The yellow blade vanished with a hiss, and she caught him by the shoulders and hurled him sideways against the altar.

Pain shot through his ribs, and Quinlan staggered to his feet, gasping for breath. A hand pushed him off-balance, and Vythia stepped up beside him and slammed the metal hilt of her dagger into his spine.


The bell clanged so loudly that the entire stairwell vibrated. Hunter took a couple of seconds to recover his equilibrium, then ran the rest of the way, catching up with the others just as they reached the bottom of the stairs. They were all eyeing the robed statue warily. It didn't seem aware of them, even though its black eyes glittered with focus as it stared across the chasm.

Hunter took the lead, and the team edged past the statue without speaking.

They stopped together when they reached the echoing chasm, which was filled with green light. Hunter glanced at Tech – he and Crosshair didn't have helmets. "Dioxis?" he asked quietly.

Tech shook his head.

Hunter moved to the narrow, black bridge that spanned the echoing chasm. Peering across it to the Core didn't tell him much – all he could see was a set of bent pillars, just like the ones outside of Trayus, which pointed down toward the center of a circular platform.

"I don't hear anything," Crosshair said.

"Neither do I." Hunter wasn't sure if that was good or bad, but there was only one way to find out – and there was only one way forward. He stepped onto the bridge, ready to leap back at the first sign of collapse. No alarming vibrations traveled through it, but he took the precaution of crouching to press his hand against it. It seemed perfectly sound, despite its strange appearance.

"Okay," Hunter said. "Wrecker, take it slow and easy. Tech, you and Cross keep an eye on him."

Nobody answered, instead falling silently into place behind him as he started across the bridge. Hunter had always had a good head for heights, but when he made the mistake of glancing down to his right, he had to freeze in place and stare at the bridge's surface for a moment to reorient himself. The chasm was glowing green, as though lit by the same flames that kept the academy lanterns burning, but he couldn't see how deep it went.

"Don't look down," he warned between his teeth.

"Too late," Crosshair answered. "Tech looked."

Hunter glanced carefully over one shoulder to see that Tech was moving rigidly, his eyes intent as he gazed straight across the bridge.

"I'm not gonna look," Wrecker said fervently. "Hunter, you see Quinlan yet?"

"No." Hunter wasn't sure the Jedi was even on the other side of this bridge, but there was nowhere else to look – except in the chasm.

As he neared the end of the bridge, Hunter increased his pace until he was running. As he took the last couple of steps, he moved to the side. The others followed close behind him, their boots clicking slightly against the hard rock surface.

Still, there was no sound. Hunter was surprised he hadn't heard anything yet. In an area as vast as this, even quiet sounds would carry easily. . . if there was anyone down here to make sounds.

They reached the pillars and paused, looking towards the second row of pillars. Hunter couldn't see what was behind them. Then he stepped fully inside the first row, and – as if his hearing had been suddenly enabled – a burst of sound greeted him.

"Vythia, don't!" Quinlan was yelling. "No – no! What are you doing?!"

Hunter dashed forward, covering the meters between himself and the second set of pillars in a few seconds. Just as he crossed inside the second ring, a strong gust of wind whistled through the bent pillars and slammed into him diagonally, pressing him back against the pillar beside Tech. Crosshair and Wrecker got a couple of steps farther, barely. Even Wrecker couldn't keep moving against the strength of the gale – he dropped to his knees only an instant after Crosshair did.

Tech said the storm was over. That thought flashed through Hunter's mind as he struggled to take a step forward. But the storm wasn't over; it had merely moved, coming down to the Core to prevent them from . . . interfering. In what?

Hunter looked up. A few meters away was an altar made out of grey stone, with metal cuffs embedded in each corner. Quinlan was struggling desperately against Vythia as she shoved him to his knees at the left side. Since that first yell, the Jedi had been silent, and despite his obvious panic, he was moving weakly, as though something physically weighed him down.

Vythia forced his left arm onto the altar and reached for the cuff.

Hunter struggled, raising his pistol; as soon as he did, the wind slammed into him so roughly that his arm snapped out and to the side, catching Tech across the throat. Tech coughed harshly, and for a moment Hunter's focus was occupied by sliding his arm down from Tech's neck so he wouldn't get strangled.

Just as he managed to get his arm back down at his side, there was a slight clicking of metal. Hunter looked up to see that Vythia had closed the cuff around the Jedi's upper left arm, just below his shoulder, and was tightening it.

"Quinlan!" yelled Wrecker. It looked like he was trying to throw his blaster to the Jedi, but as soon as the gun left his fingers it was sent sailing back, clattering along the stones until it fell into the chasm.

As soon as Vythia released him, Quinlan's strength seemed to return. He gasped and caught at the cuff with his free hand, yanking and twisting at it, then flung his weight back in an attempt to tear it from the stone. Vythia ignored him.

Hunter threw himself against the driving wind again, then gave up and looked at Crosshair, who had been lying on his stomach. His right hand was beneath his chest, still clutching his pistol, but his sharp gaze was locked on Vythia.

Hunter knew exactly what he was going to do, and that if he waited any longer, the storm – or the presence – would guess his intentions. "Crosshair, now!" he yelled, the words torn out of his mouth by the flying gale.

Vythia glanced over at the sniper, one eyebrow lifting in mild alarm as she unhooked the red jewel from her headpiece.

Crosshair flipped onto his side and squeezed the trigger, rotating the gun up from the floor only after the first shot.

The first laser hit the lower right edge of the altar, just in front of Vythia, who was reaching for Lothal's mask. The second struck her leg, halfway up her skirt – and didn't penetrate.

She stumbled.

The driving wind died abruptly, and a new gust howled down, slamming against Hunter's shoulders like a heavy weight had fallen on him. He slammed to his knees, and Tech crumpled beside him. Wrecker managed to crawl forward, but Crosshair fell, twisted onto his back. The powerful wind was so violent that, for several seconds, none of them could even draw a breath.

Then, everything fell silent and still.

Hunter struggled to his feet just in time to see Vythia deliberately cut her finger with the jewel, then press both against the grey surface before her.

Wrecker lunged forward, but Vythia ignored him, her black eyes focused unblinkingly on the red kyber crystal.

As Wrecker neared her, a barely visible, glowing red shield sprang into existence around the altar and the two people standing beside it. Wrecker slammed into the shield and grunted, the wind knocked out of him. This was no ray shield. Not only could Hunter not feel it, but there were strange red symbols floating around the base of the spherical light.

Hunter fired an upward shot at it, but the laser simply disappeared into the wavering light. He holstered his pistol, knowing he had only one more thing he could try. Taking a step forward, he activated the lightsaber.

Vythia only glanced at him once before returning to study the shield, as though making sure it would hold up against the commandos' onslaught.

Quinlan had been leaning against his forearm, momentarily exhausted by his frantic struggling, but at the sound of the lightsaber, he tilted his head and caught sight of the commandos – and then the shield. His eyes went dark, and he knelt slowly upright, watching Vythia as she continued to observe the shield.

Hunter took a step closer and brushed the green blade against its surface. It was like touching a stone with a metal rod, but it didn't rip the weapon from his grasp, so he struck it a hard blow – to no avail.

The hope in Quinlan's eyes turned into fear, and his free hand clutched at the edge of the altar as he tried to drag himself upright. The instant he touched it, he went utterly still. His gaze turned inward.

"Quinlan!" Hunter snapped. "Stop using your psychometry!"

Vythia stirred and looked at him. "He cannot help it," she explained, almost apologetically. "Were he merely psychometric he would be able to avoid it, but the altar is a wellspring of Dark Side energy."

Hunter shot another look at the strangely staring Jedi, then turned on his heel to face his squad mates. "Tech! What is this thing?"

"I believe it is a Force-shield," Tech answered. His voice was slightly unsteady. "They cannot be penetrated until their purpose has been served."

"You mean – you mean we can't do anything?" Wrecker asked. "What about taking out the pillars? It looks like they're makin' the shield!"

A gentle brush of wind drifted across the floor and swirled around their ankles, almost as though the storm was warning them not to try anything.

"No," Crosshair said, his sharp gaze focused on the nearly invisible shield. "It's not made by the pillars."

"We need more information," Tech said quietly.

Hunter took a deep breath. Turning to Vythia, he demanded, "What are you doing?"

She tilted her head and picked up a scroll. "I am not killing him, if that is what you are worried about."

Before Hunter could answer, Vythia removed the jewel from the altar again and looked from it to the scroll.

"What do we do, Quinlan?" Wrecker demanded, then slammed his fist against the shield. "Hey! Quinlan?! What do we do?"

The Jedi didn't answer.

"What can we do?" Crosshair said.

"Nothing," said Vythia, without looking up from the scroll.

Hunter turned to Tech. "What are our options?"

"I. . ." Tech fidgeted, then shook his head. "I have no answers."

Hunter moved to stand right in front of the shield, barely two meters from Quinlan, and stared at the altar's surface. There was a strange image, drawn in half-dried blood; it looked like a bird. Where the eye should have been, there was a speck of blood that was darker than the rest. Vythia's. She'd used the crystal as the eye of the bird.

Hunter turned to Quinlan. To his surprise, the Jedi's gaze was focused again as he studied the other objects on the altar – Lothal's mask, the second scroll, and the ceremonial dagger. Moving slowly, Quinlan twisted against the metal band that kept him pinned, turning to give his right arm more room to maneuver.

Hunter waited, his gaze flicking constantly around the altar in the hopes of discovering something – anything – that might destroy the shield. A discarded hypo lay beside the altar, and he stared at it.

Tech followed Hunter's gaze, then took a quick breath in realization. "Vythia," he said slowly. "That night when you were on guard with me – you told me you were checking that Quinlan was breathing, but you were really drawing his blood."

"Yes," said Vythia. She was staring at the scroll, as though not certain of what it was telling her. Her confident attitude had not vanished, but something had made it lessen.

"She was?" demanded Wrecker, then turned suddenly to Vythia. "Hey, why would'ja do that?"

The Nautolan woman set the scroll down and stared at the jewel.

"Tech?" Wrecker asked, his voice a little higher than usual. "Why would she do that?"

"It is – obvious," Tech answered weakly, and gestured at the image that had been drawn in blood. "Vythia requires a Force-sensitive's blood for whatever it is she is doing. The Sith used Force-sensitives in the past, when they needed to complete rituals. But – Vythia is not a Sith. She is not even a –"

Hunter finished for him. "She's not even Force-sensitive."

Vythia looked up, and a faint smile crossed her lips. "Not yet," she agreed evenly.