Ruin's boots hit the table with a clang as he leaned back in his chair. Eradicus stood at his side. The squire instinctively reached forward to shine his master's boots, but the Dark Lord brushed him off. What remained of Ruin's high command among the soldiers that had come to Rhen Var filled the remaining seats down the table.

A small holographic emitter sat in the table's center. They all waited for it to flicker to life. Ruin stared at the ceiling and masked his desire to get this over with. Eradicus continued to play the fool, his jowly face contorted in some facile imitation of mirth. The others appeared bored at best: Admiral Yaris twirled an errant lock of hair between his fingers and scratched at his spearhead of a nose; old General Loram looked on the verge of death, his eyes turned grey and watery and the sockets around them deep and dark; and Corporal Regina Orbus, who sat in place of the infirm Captain Varsh Myrm, stared vacantly at the door.

I hate them all, Ruin and the voice thought together.

The emitter began to chirp and, at once, everyone but Ruin leaned forward in attention. Ruin kept his eyes on the ceiling, but listened as the machined beeped and whirred. He glanced over occasionally to see if anything had yet appeared, but his eyes always went back up.

"Inbound communication from the Malastare system," a robotic voice spoke from the emitter device. "From the bridge of the Marauder-class flagship Invictus."

Ruin looked over at last. Blue light leaked upwards from the emitter, pulling itself together like jelly, congealing into a single portrait blotch by blotch. Though, there was no portrait when it was done. There was only a helmet, colorless and solidly enclosing the subject's head, with a sharp-cut T-visor running down its front. The emitter did its best to reproduce what appeared to be markings inscribed all around the face, but it came out as static.

"I seek audience with the Dark Lord of the Sith." The voice was gruff and abrasive, hardened by years spent in battle.

Ruin pondered the holographic image for a moment. "Speaking," he said, crossing his hands and resting them under his chin. "Might I assume you are the current reigning Mandal'or?"

"Aye, Mandalore the Unassailable. I have received your emissary."

"And?" Ruin knew this meeting would be over shortly. The waiting was numbing him.

"It disappoints me gravely that you did not see it fit to visit yourself," Mandalore said. "The Sith are ruled by a craven who sends minions to do his dirty work." If the hologram were capable of movement, the warlord would have been staring down all of Ruin's officers. "This is the leader you all follow? A weakling who can't even forge his own alliances? One who hides at the edge of the galaxy?"

"Enough." Ruin placed a hand on his temple. He waved with the other. "Leave us." He shot a look at Eradicus, still standing at his side. "I said leave us." The boy scurried out of the room at once. The officers followed suit, with Yaris leading the way. Corporal Orbus was forced to help General Loram get to his feet after he almost collapsed trying to leave his chair. Ruin watched, shaking his head in disgust, as she walked him out like a nurse and her patient.

"There," Ruin spat. "Mandalore the Unassailable, we are alone. Say what you wish to say."

"I have said all that needs saying, Sith. You are craven."

"So I have been told. Tell me, what of my offer?"

Mandalore laughed, a booming thing that thundered so loud the emitter's speaker spat out bursts of whining feedback in its feeble attempts to reproduce it. "Why would I follow a coward? Your homeworld is lost. You started a war and lost before the first battle even began. And you fled."

"You must remember that I am no warlord like you. Surely my emissary, informed you that I am little more than an old man. What I lack in strength, I make up for in-"

"Without strength, you are nothing," Mandalore said. "What do you know of the Mandalorian Wars?"

"That your people lost terribly." Ruin looked down at the table. I do not suppose you believe now would be a good time to offer advice, eh, spirit? "At the hands of the Republic, your kinsmen's forces were beaten back by a bloodthirsty Jedi Knight and his militant followers. I know that you would like revenge for your miserable defeat, and against the continued culling of your clans by the Republic and the Jedi."

"If you understand these things well enough, then why send a thrall in your place?"

"To test the waters." Ruin kept his voice tepid. "I am the first of a new bloodline, the head of a fledgling order. I could have gone to your flagship and you might just as easily have killed me. Why take the risk?"

"So you risk one of your lieutenants instead? Just as foolish, considering you Sith are so very few." Mandalore let out another laugh, this one low and raspy. "Your plan is sound, but it still marks you craven. I did not kill your lady warrior, though I think I'll be keeping her. A pity she's yours; she'd make a fine soldier in my ranks. Even if she isn't of our blood."

"If she is the die I must cast, so be it." As much as he wanted Bestia returned to his side, Ruin would not force the armored hand that held her. The alliance was more important. "Tell me of your current plans."

"Why would I-" Mandalore stopped himself, grumbling. "Fine. You and your Sith are not being hunted. The Jedi think you all dead; hell, the Republic thinks you all dead. There was no report filed of your flagship fleeing Korriban space, nor one of any potential escape. The Republic is more concerned with rebuilding their standing army for a full-frontal assault against my forces."

So his spies tell him. "And they do not yet hunt you?" Ruin set a finger against his lips. Why is it when I would solicit your advice you do not speak?

"I am told by certain sources that the Senate does not wish to shed more blood in the immediate aftermath of the Fall of Korriban. A majority in the Senate believe that their constituents will think them bloodthirsty if they go to war again so soon. They see it better to lose a handful of worlds in the Mid Rim and Outer Reaches than to lose votes. They fear their stranglehold on the galaxy is threatened, so they do not act."

Inquire on the Jedi, the voice said at last. It felt like a worm boring through Ruin's skull, but it triggered his own curiosity as well.

"What do the Jedi think?"

"I have not heard directly, but I am led to believe that they are ready to defy the Senate and fall upon us once they are recovered from the assault on your people."

Ruin chuckled. "These are not the same Jedi of those old wars, Mandalore. Revan's cult were bloodthirsty, yes, but they did not do what they did for glory or power. They took the fight to your kinsmen because they thought they were saving the galaxy. Little did the Revanchists know that a little war would throw the galaxy into chaos and unleash the power of the Dark Side."

"You do not afford Revan the proper respect," Mandalore said. "Revan proved greater than our leader. That is why we respect your order." He paused for a moment. "The only reason. You are not descended from Revan's line. I am told you claimed the mantle of power for yourself. You assembled the last of the Sith, brought them together, and crowned yourself king of the roost. Only then, you turned tail when the Jedi came hammering down.

"This is where you and Revan diverge. Revan would have stood his ground and fought. You ran like a wounded tuk'ata. That is why I cannot understand you, Darth Ruin. Why do you ask for our fealty to your cause, our assistance to you when you have nothing? If any arrangement is to be made at present, it should be for you to become my vassal."

Ruin scowled. "I am no one's vassal, warlord. I am Dark Lord of the Sith. The Force itself bends to my will. I am the center of the galaxy. All things, even you, bend to me."

"Your scion said something similar," Mandalore chuckled. "She keeps muttering 'Our will be done' or some similar nonsense. I asked her to elaborate and all she said was 'There is nothing, only me.' Is that what your order preaches now instead of glory and fear?"

"Every man is the center of his own universe," Ruin said. He felt his anger flare. "Each is a slave only to himself. The power of the dark side is the only way to make this work."

"You call this philosophy?" Mandalore laughed. "The Sith of old had a method to their madness: the young killed the old, and the strong supplanted the weak. If every one of you is an island, then your order will be in pieces upon your demise. Surely you understand, 'Dark Lord'." His voice dripped with derision for the title. "You need a strongman at the center to hold the pieces in place, else your 'Order' will be little more than fledgling warbands."

Ruin dismissed the commentary with a wave. "I do not ask you to understand my point of view. All I want from you is to join as allies, as we did in the days of old. When the Jedi fall upon you, only my power will be able to stop them."

"We are no strangers to killing Jedi," Mandalore said brusquely. "We burned a barony on Muunilinst a standard fortnight past. The flames soared so high that I'm sure the Force itself choked on them. The baroness we smoked out fought well, and I admire that, but she did not seem to understand how to fight enemies that were not serfs clad in cloth-and-dirt."

"I am aware the Jedi have grown fat and lazy," Ruin said with a sigh. The lack of learning and adaptability reminded him all too well of his own exile from the High Council on Coruscant. "And evidently complacent. Let me guess: vibroblades weaved with cortosis and beskar plating? They haven't had to fight against it in so long that they have probably all forgotten how. It makes me wonder how far you could get if you were to drop your basilisks from Coruscanti orbit down onto the Temple."

"The massacre would be glorious." Mandalore was beaming on the other side of the communicator, Ruin could tell. "I still think you craven, but I am warming to you, Darth Ruin. What keeps you on Rhen Var? Come to me, and I will happily hand back your emissary and forge an alliance with you. Though, the mere promise of vengeance isn't quite enough. What else do my people get?"

"As my order and your forces carve a swathe across the galaxy, we can split our planetary conquests." Ruin got to his feet and started to pace around the length of the table. "Let me be clear: I am not carving out a sector to segregate you. I want us to remain steadfast allies. When I take my rightful place on Coruscant, I will have you as my left hand, Great Mandal'or. Your people are legendary in their ability and invaluable to our cause."

"Why the left instead of the right?"

"That honor is for one I hold close to me, almost as dear as myself," Ruin said, clasping his hands to his chest. "She has only done right by me, serving faithfully for many years. She will continue to be my right hand, and you my left."

The Mandalorian sighed and the emitter crackled. "Fine. I won't wait forever. Get yourself off that frozen rock and meet me over Malastare. The offer stands as long as I am present here. If we meet, we shall fight together. You have my word as Mandal'or and head of the clans."

There was no farewell when the emitter shut itself off and Mandalore's visage disappeared. Ruin began walking over to his chair when his feet seemed to stop in their tracks. Sticky sweat tumbled down his brow as he tried to move, yet he could not find the strength nor the ability. A wave crashed over him, and he thought he felt his bowels turn to water. There was no time for him to know if it were true, as he went flying towards the wall on the other side of the room. The hem of his robe tore as it caught on the table, and the sunken brown mass crumpled to the floor at the table's end, hanging off on a corner. He felt a crash and then everything went black.

When he came to, he was lying crumpled on the floor, a blue hand stretched out in front of him. His eyes fluttered, blinking, and he looked up at the figure before him. It was a human-shaped nebula, clad in similar robes to his own, wearing a waist-length beard made of dead stars. The whole of him was a nebulae cloud of burnt out supernovae and impenetrable darkness. Yet he shone a dull, radiant gold. The faint rays of white sunlight crept in through the slatted windows and pierced through him, as if he was not even there. Ruin saw him look down on him while he lay there helpless. There were no features on that face, save for a blur of crimson and orange where his forehead should've been, half-shrouded by a hood made of the emptiest of voids.

"Finally." The words seemed to echo and trail off, as if coming from somewhere beyond the pale and slithering back. Ruin recognized the cadence at once: it was the being in his head, at long last made manifest. "'Tis about time I can walk alongside you. You weren't thinking about leaving me, were you?"

Ruin gagged and hacked up spittle and blood. "I- I want your name, now, dead thing." He coughed. It felt like his ribs were ripping apart his lungs. His mouth was damp and he tasted only metal.

"My name has been lost to the annals of time." He stooped down in front of Ruin, as if to inspect him. "Ajunta Pall made sure of that when he had me imprisoned." He got back up and stuck out a glittering hand. "No, I was not destined to be remembered, loved, and despised as my comrades were. You may call me Cronos."

"I have not gone back on my vow to set you free." Ruin's speech was slurred. He felt light-headed, ready to give himself back to the abyss at any moment. "Sith, though, surely Darth Cronos would be preferable?"

"I have no need of that silly title just as my brethren did not. You remain the only Darth here." Cronos stepped forward and put a shimmering boot oozing with cosmic energy on Ruin's throat. He wheezed for air. It should be going through me!

"I am your liege lord." Cronos brought his boot off Ruin's neck.

"We rule... together?" Ruin let out labored, sharp breaths in between each word.

"A triumvirate, since you shall not let your Shadow Hand go. It is of no matter. So long as you both have me to guide you, the Sith shall rule the galaxy. My power is unstoppable." He craned himself forward, his empty face staring directly into Ruin's battered one. "You will have no need of the Mandalorians, though they will be useful pawns. Court this alliance after your Shadow Hand is led here."

Ruin's eyes fluttered. "Lady Cinder comes here?" He hacked up blood and phlegm, slobber dribbling from his cracked lips.

Cronos shook his head. There was a faint rustling that sounded almost like a giggle. "Perhaps I spoke prematurely. Nonetheless, we ought prepare for her arrival. How fares the excavation?"

Ruin felt himself floating. His boots squealed against the stone floor as he kicked. A screech rang across the room as a chair slid towards him. He closed his eyes and felt himself plop into the metal seat with a thump.

Ruin swallowed hard. His neck ached, and he thought his head to sever from it as he shook it. "A few more weeks. Shall I visit you myself?"

"As soon as it is done. Our victory is at hand. Rest now, Dark Lord. There is so much ahead for us."

Ruin felt his head slump and his eyes close. No, no, no! Don't go, I have so much to ask of you! but there was nothing. There was nothing except for the pitch black abyss of sleep that drowned him whole.

He awoke that night in his throne, seeing only the snow flitter across the courtyard and hearing only the howling hyperboreal winds of Rhen Var. Footsteps echoed behind him. He could not tell whether it was disappointment or relief that washed over him when he only saw Eradicus walking down the stairs.