Chapter Three: Darth Baras

Walking up to the Sith Academy, Glailen wondered if he would look half-dead every time he came to the academy. By appearance he probably looked better than last time; his clothes were torn but he had fewer lacerations and bruises. He still felt like a shambling mess though, as he had run out of water the day before. In retrospect he should have found some water at the outpost on the outskirts of the Valley of Dark Lords but at the time he had just been relieved to fall into a hovercab. The trip through the skies had been all too short for his tired limbs but getting back up had impressed upon him just how desperate for water he was. It was just before noon and there were many people around the academy but none paid him much mind. That was fine, he hadn't expected anyone to notice an acolyte looking worse for wear, but he was going to make his presence known.

A group of Imperial troopers were standing around talking, Glailen chose them as he adjusted his direction. He was a few meters away when one noticed his approach and alerted the others. They all stared, waiting for him to draw closer. With their helmets on Glailen couldn't tell what their expressions were but he also didn't much care. He raised a heavy arm and pointed at the nearest trooper.

"Your canteen," he croaked, unable to properly wet his lips. To their credit, the trooper didn't hesitate in presenting the desired item. Glailen stared possessively at the canteen as he took it from the trooper and raised it to his eager mouth. He drank greedily, taking large gulps while the group of troopers looked on. He wasn't concerned with leaving the canteen empty. This close to the garrison, it would be a simple thing for the trooper to get a refill. When he was satisfied with almost drowning, Glailen wiped a hand over his mouth and handed the not-quite empty canteen back to its owner.

"Thank you, trooper. You're a life saver." The soldier nodded as they returned the canteen to its spot at their hip. Glailen meant what he said; the canteen could have come from anyone but he felt genuine gratitude towards this person.

"Don't mention it, sir," replied the female voice.

"Just another day on Korriban, eh?" A male voice spoke in jest but Glailen wasn't sure which soldier it had come from. He was about to respond when a familiar voice caught his ear.

"Acolyte Reichscher," called Y-5O3, it is good to see you have returned." All heads turned to the droid standing a discreet distance off. For his part, Glailen was starting to find the droid's presence somewhat comforting – even if Y-5O3's appearance often meant a trip to Tremel's office. Acknowledging the droid, Glailen turned his attention back to the troopers.

"I have this feeling that the day is just beginning," he said with a weak grin. Glailen waved a goodbye to the troopers and some even wished him luck with whatever came next. That brightened his mood but really, what did he have to feel down about? He had survived in the wilderness of Korriban, slain the Beast of Marka Ragnos and in so doing passed another trial and he was no longer hopelessly in need of water. Whatever Tremel had next for him he was ready to face it. Though a change of clothes would be good. As he came up to the Y-5O3 the droid gave him an appraising look.

"You'll need new clothes." The acolyte suppressed a grin.

"I would have to agree with you," he responded simply.

"I shall see to it while you are in your meeting with Overseer Tremel." Glailen considered the matter a moment before offering an alternative.

"Thank you. I can find my way there on my own if you'd like to do that now. No need to waste time." The droid gave him a side-long look before bowing in assent.

"Very well, I will trust you to arrive in a timely manner." With the matter settled, Glailen increased his pace to something more his preference. He soon lost sight of Y-5O3 as he entered the academy well ahead of the droid.

When he came to the main hall he walked straight and with confidence feeling for the first time like he really belonged where he was. His latest trial hadn't simply been another step to being declared Sith but also in proving to himself that he was ready. Not for other reasons he'd just as soon forget but for defeating a Beast of Marka Ragnos; a feat not many acolytes, he was sure, could have accomplished with their lives. When he was first selected to begin training to become a Sith, few had expected him to rise above the rank of initiate given his age. Himself among them. Now, though, he was well on his way and ready to keep rising. Everything just seemed clearer, in a way, though, he amended, it all looked somewhat…faded as well. Regardless of whether he should or not, he found he was getting used to the latter.

He arrived at Tremel's office in short order and without incident which he was glad for. The doors slid open at his approach and he entered to find the overseer sitting at his desk, eyes downcast. Immediately Glailen sensed the other man's troubled mind and he paused still close to the door. He had expected Tremel to be at least pleased with his return but the overseer seemed too distracted to notice he was no longer alone. Finally, the overseer looked up and Glailen saw the worry etched across a face that appeared to have aged a decade since last the two were in the same room. The acolyte calmed his body and waited for Tremel to speak.

"Acolyte," he began in a tired tone, "I'm glad to see you've returned alive and successful but we have important matters to discuss."

"I may have made a…miscalculation when I sent you slay the Beast of Marka Ragnos. The creature was a source of great dark side energy – more than I thought – and when it died there was a tremor in the Force. One which was felt by many in the academy but none more worryingly than Darth Baras." Pausing, the overseer allowed a moment for his words to settle into the room. He needn't have bothered as Glailen was hanging on his every word, fully aware of the severity he was hearing.

"He's requested an audience with you upon your arrival," Tremel finished. His eyes searched that of the acolyte's. The grave expression did little to calm Glailen's nerves. With great effort, Glailen forced himself to speak with something approaching calm.

"Do you think I'm ready for this?"

"It doesn't matter if you are or not; he will not take no for an answer and I cannot protect you from this." Glailen lowered his eyes at that. Not because he's hearing anything unexpected – because he wasn't – but because he needed to mentally prepare himself.

"Baras is a serious man and cunning. He will always be looking to manipulate you. Never let your guard down, understand?" The acolyte returned his gaze to the other man, taking in the advice for what it was worth.

"I do, overseer," replied Glailen. There was nothing for him to do except fall back on his training and hold to discipline. There was a pause as Tremel looked Glailen up and down. Perhaps it was due to the overseer's troubled mind but Glailen found he was having little difficulty sensing the other man's feelings. Pity, disappointment, fear. He looks at me and sees a cause that's already lost, thought Glailen with more bitterness than he expected. Finally, Tremel shook his head with a sigh.

"You should make yourself look at least somewhat presentable first. Freshen up and when you're ready Y-5O3 will show you to Baras' chambers." Nodding, Glailen turned to leave.

"This may be the last time we see each other, Glailen. Remember what you fight for." The sudden use of his first name gave Glailen paused as he regarded the overseer. Did it stem from some form of respect or had the pity won through? It didn't matter. He was just about out of patience with Tremel's fatalism.

"I never forget, overseer."

As Glailen left the overseer's office he considered waiting for Y-5O3 as per their agreement but, somehow, he imagined the droid would know where to go. If anyone called out to him as he made his way to his bunkroom, Glailen didn't notice. His mind was far too preoccupied. Soon he would stand before a Darth who was no friend of the overseer who had facilitated his arrival to the Sith Academy of Korriban. That same overseer had in fact been planning on using Glailen as a weapon against that Darth. It wasn't a stretch in the acolyte's mind to believe that Darth Baras knew of that plot already.

Upon reaching his bunkroom, Glailen glanced at his bed. Sitting neatly on it were new clothes and next to those a tray of food with a cup of water. Knowing who was responsible would have brought some amusement to the acolyte less than an hour ago but now all he saw was necessary preparation for the battle ahead. There was a shower halfway down the room which Glailen entered after stripping off the rags he had used as clothes. One other acolyte was in the shower but neither man did more than glance at each other. It was a sonic shower, of course. Like just about everything at the academy, the best was reserved for those above the rank of acolyte or a garrison member of sufficient rank. Glailen didn't mind, he was used to settling for less than the luxury of water showers. He was once told a soldier couldn't prepare for anything but cleaning up properly and a fresh uniform certainly helped. With thoughts on the next couple of hours, the acolyte hoped truer words had never been spoken.

He stayed in the shower longer than necessary, partly because it felt like he hadn't been clean in weeks but also because a part of him was avoiding the coming meeting. Reluctantly he left the shower and donned his fresh clothes; the tray was quickly emptied of food. Sitting on the edge of his bunk, hands in his lap, Glailen focused on his breathing, soothing his nerves. If nothing else, the feel of new clothes, being clean and a full stomach all served to improve his mood. He was as prepared as he could possibly be. It was at the moment the acolyte had finally calmed his mind that the door to the room slid open and Y-5O3 stood at the entrance. Glailen rose smoothly and walked over to the droid who appraised his condition.

"I must say, you are looking far more presentable, Acolyte Reichscher."

"A good thing considering my next appointment," he responded evenly. Y-5O3 bowed slightly in agreement.

"Quite so. If you will follow me?" Without waiting for an answer, the droid began leading the way. Glailen followed close behind.

They hadn't been walking long before Glailen noticed an unmistakable shift in the building's architecture. Rooms were spaced further apart, the doors large and beyond them he sensed undeniable power. In front of one of these doors Y-5O3 paused to input a code on a keypad. The door opened and the pair entered to a large waiting room, there was a closed door on each wall. Y-5O3 went to the one directly ahead and again worked a keypad a moment before the doors opened with a deathly silence. Glailen's eyes immediately raced along the scene he was shown. The spacious office was occupied by half a dozen acolytes and among them was Vemrin himself. It was not the acolytes who held Glailen's gaze, however; that was reserved for the fully armoured man sitting behind the large desk in the center of the room. Glailen need no help in identifying the intimidating figure as Darth Baras.

The Darth's face was hidden behind a metallic mask. The eye on the left side was completely covered over – hinting at a grievous injury incurred perhaps – while the right had only a small rectangular slit for someone to see through. Glailen felt himself drawn to that opening as though if he looked hard enough, he could discern all the secrets of the man within. Then he felt the eye behind it find him. He struggled to hold down the fear that sought to take him. Glailen knew he was staring at someone with real power. Someone who, if they chose, could kill everyone in the room without leaving their seat.

Oh, Tremel, how was I ever supposed to be ready for this?

Next to Glailen, Y-5O3 stood still without a sound. Having not received an invitation to enter the chamber, Glailen was happy to emulate the droid.

"You have your task. If you die you, will be forgotten; if you give up, you will be killed. Now go." Having been dismissed by the dark lord, the other acolytes turned and began to file out of the room. Vemrin came last and stopped next to Glailen though neither faced the other.

"I know you killed Dolgis." The dark tone of Vemrin's voice was unmistakable even in a whisper.

"No idea what you're talking about," said Glailen, not willing to fall into some sort of trap of admitting the crime. There was a pause that lasted no more than a heartbeat but the significance between the two was immense. Vemrin's head made the slightest of turns towards Glailen.

"Stay out of my way. Final warning."

"Acolyte; Step forward." Glailen's attention snapped to Darth Baras who had spoken. With a deliberate pace, he walked closer to the table. In the back of his mind, he felt Vemrin finally leave but he kept his eyes on the dark lord as he stopped ten paces away. That unyielding mask seemed to study him far longer than was necessary but Glailen kept his expression neutral.

"Are you having trouble with Acolyte Vemrin, supplicant?"

"Nothing serious, my lord," Glailen replied easily.

"He is quite capable of backing up his threats. You would do well not to underestimate him." Glailen wasn't able to sense the other man's feelings – he didn't even bother trying against a Darth – but he didn't need the Force to know Baras' disdain. The dark lord made no effort to hide it though he kept his tone almost conversational. Baras stood from his chair and began slowly walking around the table.

"Unlike yourself, he has earned his place here by beating odds stacked against him. Let me get a look at you." No more than a few paces now separated the two and Glailen could feel the sweat roll down his back. A few miles wouldn't have been enough for his liking. After a long moment the Darth gave a slow shake of his head.

"As I suspected. Soft. Tremel has done this academy and the order a great disservice by pampering you as he has."

Pampering?

Glailen swallowed hard. Complete submission would earn him no favours. He had to show he wasn't without a backbone.

"Can't say I've felt pampered since arriving," he said, matching Baras' – minus the contempt. The dark lord's head tilted ever so slightly to the side.

"And yet that is exactly what has happened. The process of becoming Sith is very deliberate but Tremel has rushed things along for you. You don't even have a proper understanding of what it means to be Sith. It makes a mockery of everything that man claims to stand for." Though he wanted to respond to the accusation, Glailen kept his mouth shut. He had to pick his battles and he couldn't really challenge a Darth on what it meant to be Sith. Baras seemed to invite a retort as the silence stretched on but finally clasped his hands behind his back before speaking.

"Recite the Sith Code, acolyte, and explain its meaning in battle, war and politics." That silence returned now but heavier. Glailen knew the code by heart – of course he did, it had been beaten into him, he went through it when he woke up and when he went to sleep. Applying to several aspects of life, however, would be more complicated. He cleared his throat and spoke clearly.

"Peace is a lie, there is only passion. Through passion I gain strength, through strength power, through power victory. Through Victory my chains are broken. The Force shall free me."

"Go on," prompted Baras. Glailen thought carefully and elected to follow his feelings.

"It means I must look to myself and my natural connection to the Force if I want to become all that I can." Keeping his eyes trained on a point beyond Darth Baras, Glailen watched the other man out of his periphery. Baras did not appear satisfied.

"As I said; no understanding at all."

"You have great potential," continued Baras as he turned and walked back to his desk, "that much is undeniable, but you lack so much more. We'll need to rectify that." Glailen felt his blood go cold as he anticipated what came next.

"I am your master now. Tremel has crossed the final line and shown himself to be the liability I knew he was. With his refusal to adapt to the new Sith paradigm and his efforts to revert progress he has revealed himself as a traitor and traitors," "are executed."

"Go to Overseer Tremel and kill him. For this I grant you immunity from punishment."

"If it must be done," said Glailen, unable to keep the turmoil from his voice. Baras caught it, of course. He leaned forward in his chair slowly.

"Make no mistake, acolyte, I am not asking. Go."

"At once, my…Master." Glailen bowed low – lower than he could remember doing – before turning on his heel and leaving the room. It took nearly all his will to keep from running. Y-5O3 wasn't there anymore. That was fine; he knew where he was going.

"Acolyte? I wasn't expecting you to return so soon, if at all." Tremel is seated behind his desk, going over something on a holoscreen. Glailen enters the room calmly, he thinks, but avoids eye contact. Unsurprisingly, the overseer picks up on the mood almost immediately.

"What is it?" he asks though Glailen would have bet he had a good idea already. The acolyte licked his dry lips. His hands wouldn't stop fidgeting at his sides.

"I've been sent by Baras to kill you."

"I see." Neither man said anything for a long minute. Tremel was the first to break the silence with a tired sigh.

"Either you kill me or I am forced to kill you. A masterstroke," he stated, pushing his chair back as he stood up.

"I have been outplayed. For what it's worth, acolyte, I'll make it as painless as possible." In response to the matter-of-fact, almost bored, tone, Glailen's eyes shot up to meet the overseer's.

"You're so certain you'll win?"

"Please, acolyte," Tremel said with a wave of his hand, "you're about to fight a Sith and you are not Sith." The self-assurance in the overseer's voice, was it unearned? Glailen found he didn't really care, only that it angered him. After everything the other man had put him through, Glailen proven he wasn't weak. Certainly not someone to be disregarded and yet Tremel believed the outcome of their fight a foregone conclusion. He unhooked the lightsaber from his belt so casually Glailen wondered if he couldn't have used the Force to snatch the weapon away.

"Perhaps I can find a way to salvage this situation." By the Force, the man even sounded distracted, his mind already racing ahead of the fight.

Glailen lowered himself into a battle-stance. He, at least, would not underestimate his opponent. There was no way he would simply accept death without giving his all to survive. Too much would be left undone.

At that moment Tremel had the audacity to look away as though Glailen posed no real threat to him.

In an instant Glailan drew upon the Force to increase his strength and reflexes as he dashed forward, warblade flashing for a quick kill. A look of shock crossed the overseer's face as he reacted at the last moment. A blood-red lightsaber blade sprung to life in the path of the warblade. The weapons clashed together and crackled with energy.

"Smart move, acolyte, but–" Whatever Tremel had been about to say was cut off as Glailen shoved aside the lighsaber and swung again with his own weapon. Again, Tremel blocked the blow but Glailen remained undeterred. The acolyte pushed hard and Tremel gave ground easily but continued to defend against all of the strikes sent his way.

After a series of unsuccessful attacks, Glailen deliberately slowed his movements. Tremel must have seen it as weakness and obligingly went on the offensive. Now it was Glailen who backpedaled but he did so willingly as he tested how his opponent handled attacking. Again, Tremel showed excellent technique but it continued to suffer from his distraction. It was more than that though. The form was there but it lacked conviction – that killing instinct. Not quite the same as Devotek but similar. Perhaps the passage of years had not been kind to Tremel or maybe he had grown sloppy in his training after working behind a desk for so long. Whatever the case may have been, what Glailen lacked in experience he found he could more than make up for with youthful stamina. Already the signs were beginning to show on Tremel; his breathing was harder and sweat glistened on his brow while Glailen still felt fresh. Still, he couldn't let his guard down nor take victory for granted. He needed to take what he'd glean from the past minute or so of fighting and the perfect moment to capitalize.

As the red blade continued to dance around, Glailen began feigning exhaustion. He made it look as though he could barely keep up and that he laboured for breath. At precisely the moment when he felt Tremel's confidence reach its peak, Glailen left himself open, allowing the overseer to swat aside his warblade. He looked completely unguarded; beaten. Tremel redirected his lightsaber and lunged for the acolyte's chest. Suddenly Glailen sidestepped to his left, allowing Tremel's momentum to carry him forward too far. Before the overseer could react, Glailen grabbed the wrist of the other man's dominant arm and struck hard at the elbow with his fist still enclosed around the warblade. There was a sickening snap as the joint was overextended and bone burst from flesh. The lightsaber fell from unresponsive fingers but Glailen caught it before it hit the ground. Tremel fell to his knees, cradling his arm while screaming through clenched teeth.

Glailen waited for the overseer to gain some measure of control over the pain. Breathing raggedly, he looked up at the acolyte who had bested him.

"Incredible," he breathed, "I never thought…" Glailen regarded the man impassively. He felt the lightsaber in his right hand and considered how pleasing it was. It wasn't his but it felt right to be holding one. After a moment Tremel rose unsteadily to his feet. He met the acolyte's eyes with a determined look.

"You are ready. Ready to be Sith. Not even Baras will be able to dispute that now." Were Tremel's words valid or was the shock of his injury and defeat wearing on his mind?

"Go. Stop Vemrin. Stop Baras. Preserve the Sith. I die with certainty in my heart that you will succeed." There was a pause as Tremel awaited his fate and Glailen considered his next words, his next actions. He looked down at the lightsaber, he didn't remember igniting it, and switched it off. No matter how right it felt in his hands, he had not earned the right to use it. Dispassionate eyes turned to the overseer.

"Not everyone is stuck on the purity of the Sith, Tremel." Confusion crossed the overseer's face and then understanding. Glailen struck before he could utter a word, his warblade carving a path across Tremel's chest. He collapsed to the ground, mouth hanging open and eyes wide but unseeing.

It came as no surprise to Glailen that he felt no pleasure at killing Tremel but neither did he feel remorse. He had simply completed a task placed before him and if that meant he no longer had to pretend to care for Sith elitism then that was at least a silver lining. A part of him still felt anger towards the former overseer though. That he would dismiss Glailen as a failed project so easily only to assume Glailen would continue his work once the acolyte had proven stronger than anticipated. Hooking the lightsaber to his belt, Glailen knelt down and separated Tremel's right hand from his body.

You blinded yourself Tremel. That is why your story ends.

"Oh dear, it would appear Overseer Tremel has met with an unfortunate end." Spinning around, Glailen faced the doorway where a familiar droid stood surveying the scene. This was a far more incriminating act than the last time they were in this situation.

"Y-5O3, I…" the words died on his lips as Glailen's gaze returned to the cold hand he held.

"Worry not, Acolyte Reichscher, I know Darth Baras authorized this engagement. I shall notify sanitation services."

"You're not at all…concerned?" he asked, not really sure what to expect.

"Of course not. The academy endures." Glailen considered those words as the droid walked into the office and stopped before the remains of Tremel.

The Empire endures, he thought, and isn't that the perfect summarization of our purpose?

"I'm returning to Darth Baras." He marched from the office without a look back.

"Stay well," Y-5O3 called after him.

Standing perfectly straight, Glailen waited patiently in the deathly quiet room. Seated before him was Darth Baras examining the hand of the recently deceased Overseer Tremel. He turned it over as though gauging the worth of a trinket. It was a few minutes before he placed the hand to the side of the table and clasped his own together in front of him. That hidden gaze regarded Glailen for another minute.

"Now you are free of Tremel's shackles," he said at last.

"And yours are fresh on my skin," Glailen responded to the analogy in kind, unperturbed at giving away his thoughts on the situation.

"You'll find mine a significant improvement." There was the slightest sense of amusement coming from the other man but it was gone as quickly as it appeared.

"However," he continued, "you will find I am not as forgiving as Tremel. I expect perfection out of you, especially if you are to become my apprentice. After all, your performance is a reflection on myself." Glailen remained silent as he absorbed those words and the stern warning behind them. Satisfied, Baras moved on."

"Your trials will continue."

"I am ready, Master." Despite everything else, Glailen was ready to resume his trials. The sooner he completed them the better in his mind. Baras tilted his head as though sensing what Glailen was thinking.

"For your sake you had better be. The other acolytes have already left." Glailen thought back to the acolytes who had been in the room earlier and considered the lead they had on him. It wasn't insurmountable, merely a challenge. Baras continued after a moment.

"In the Tomb of Tulak Hord are ruins that once had ancient inscriptions adorning their walls. They now lie in pieces. You must venture into the tombs and bring me back a piece from each inscription. Do this or you will die."

Another trial, another tomb, thought Glailen. Perhaps I shall visit the final resting places of all notable Sith before my time on Korriban is done.

"Consider it done, Master." Bowing low, the acolyte turned to leave and was halfway to the door.

"One more thing, acolyte, before you go." Pausing, Glailen looked back at the seated Darth. He looked so unconcerned but utterly in control. The acolyte had no illusions about surviving his trials only to become the apprentice of this dark lord. He would be trapped but at least able to put some space between them.

"There are no rules as to how the pieces are collected and the other acolytes know that." If the simple statement had been meant to shaken Glailen then Baras was to be disappointed. Glailen had already been expecting to bloody his hands.

Unfortunately, there was no map for Glailen to rely on this time as he made his way towards the valley containing Tulak Hord's tomb. Luckily it didn't require a trip to the Valley of the Dark Lords. The tomb in question was in a valley but one significantly closer to the Sith Academy; no more than half a day's walk, according to Y-5O3. As usual the droid had made an appearance when needed, providing Glailen with a resupplied pack and decent directions to get started. Glailen didn't like to think how his performance in the trials would have gone had he not had the assistance on Y-5O3. But however helpful the droid was it couldn't do anything for the acolyte as he picked his way through a cave. The valley was surrounded by large rock formations – many of which held tombs and underground chambers – was through a tunnel built many generations ago. It would have been an easy walk but, as a garrison trooper had informed Glailen, a slave rebellion the previous year had seen excessive damage done as the slaves had sought to take refuge in the valley. Reconstruction work was still being conducted but not considered high priority by the Ministry of Logistics. When Glailen finally found his way out of the tunnel he wondered why he'd prefer to be; under the high sun or underground. Sure, it was grounded with debris, troopers and slaves but it was also pleasantly cool. Of course, he couldn't go back though, not yet.

Looking around, Glailen noticed the valley had more pronounced hills and clusters of jutting rocks but he could already tell it was smaller than the Valley of Dark Lords. That was relatively speaking though, he could still wander for days or weeks trying to find the right tomb. If there were dozens of other Sith buried in the area than he wouldn't be surprised. More to the point, he had no idea where to start looking. But that was the point; part of the trial. Focusing on the dark side, Glailen sat down cross-legged and closed his eyes. Meditation came easily for him and in moments he lost sense of everything except the Force. The Force enveloped him and he bent it to his will. He trusted his feelings to guide him but remained until his mind held absolute certainty. When his eyes opened, he stood up and began walking.

It was slow going with the rolling hills to deal with but after a few hours Glailen came to a stairway. He followed it up a short distance to a landing at the end of which was an entrance to an artificial cave. With great caution he walked in, wondering how many of the other acolytes had found their way here. They probably knew where the Tomb of Tulak Hord was after spending months or years on Korriban while Glailen was still in his first week. No one was there to greet him but he did see signs someone had been through recently. He proceeded slowly, reaching out with the Force for any hint of danger. A sigh escaped his lips. He was certain he was in the right place but now he had to search it to find the pieces of stone Baras demanded. The possibility that he would spend the night in the tomb had crossed his mind.

Not long after beginning his search he came across someone – an acolyte – slumped against a wall, their warblade just out of reach. Glailen crouched down to check the man's pulse but stopped upon getting a closer look. Burns marks swept across his body where someone had struck at joints and hunted for arteries. The killer had taken apart the dead acolyte with a show of sadistic skill. The thought of encountering the one responsible filled Glailen with both excitement at testing his mettle and dread at possibly succumbing to the same fate. Leaving the scene, Glailen had doubts he would encounter anything more gruesome that day.

Less than an hour later he was proven wrong.

The scream started low but grew in intensity quickly. Glailen halted and drew his warblade as he realized it was coming from the tunnel ahead that made a sharp turn out of view. Still the terrified scream rose in volume as Glailen struggled to calm his beating heart for whatever came next.

A woman rushed around the corner, her momentum sending her colliding with the wall in front of her. Before she could push off, a shape – some kind of winged creature – collided with her. Long curved claws raked into the woman even as she smacked it aside. Then another flew into her, frenzied for the warm flesh. It too was swatted away and this time the woman was able to begin moving again right as another creature hit the wall she had been an instant earlier. She made to run towards Glailen or, more likely, past him; but stumbled and fell to the ground. There was no time for her to get back up as one of the winged beasts landed on her back, claws digging in, and its beaked mouth darted forward to tear into her flesh. Frantic screams erupted from the woman as her wide eyes, pools of terror, found Glailen's. She reached out with a hand to the man standing several meters away; a lifeline from the horror. A creature landed in front of her, blocking Glailen's view. Glailen couldn't see what its head darted towards, but he could see what it took as its head yanked back and for an instant, he viewed one of those wide eyes dangling from its beak. The woman reared back, her impossibly loud screams turning to complete agony. A moment later she was buried in the creatures as more came around the corner and dove for the vulnerable prey. The screams ended abruptly. It took only a second more for some of the beasts to start noticing Glailen.

Time slowed as Glailen's eyes roamed over the threats, anticipating the fight. He breathed in deep and exhaled slowly as he adopted a battle stance. One by one the flying hunters swept towards him, shrieking their bloodlust. The acolyte stood his ground and waited. When the first beast came close, he swung his warblade and quickly surrendered to his instincts. The warblade flashed through the air relentlessly moving with all the speed Glailen could grant it. As a creature was struck, he angled his body so the carcass flew past, already forgotten as there wasn't even a heartbeat between the beasts. Blood splattered Glailen. From the creatures as they died and from himself as seeking claws scored hits. Glailen ignored the blood, ignored the pain. He had no time to focus on anything other than the act of killing.

Finally, the last winged creature was skewered on Glailen's warblade. He froze as he processed the fight and caught his breath. As quickly as it had begun it was over and the acolyte was left in silence save for his own heavy breathing the barely audible sound of sizzling flesh. Glailen eased himself into a resting position, the creature sliding off his weapon, and glanced back the way he came. Some two dozen of the beasts lay dead now. In front of him was one dead acolyte. He spared a glance at what remained of the woman before forcing her from his mind. Kneeling down, he unslung his pack and rummaged through for some kolto patches to begin attending to his wounds.

A couple of hours passed before Glailen found what he was looking for and he knew it was the right place as soon as he walked in. It was a large room, hexagonal in shape and in the center stood a large pillar with runes worked into the stone. Baras had mentioned the inscriptions were shattered which meant the pillar was not the right spot to look. He wandered around the chamber, coming across the remains of two acolytes in close proximity to each other. It didn't take an expert in forensics to tell they had encountered the winged creatures and not fared well. Close to them, however, were shards of stone that looked to have been crafted and once part of some large tablet. A quick examination showed they had writing on them. Satisfied, Glailen picked up a decent sized piece that would fit in his pack without taking up too much space. He just had to prove that he had found what Baras wanted. There would be shards to other tablets though so Glailen continued his look around the chamber, walking along the walls. The wall opposite the entrance had another similarly shattered slab of stone so he took a piece from there as well. Near the wall opposite the site of the first shard Glailen found the last though it was easy to see from a distance. On the floor in front of the shards lay another acolyte; unmoving, of course. The body was lying face down but appeared unharmed – then Glailen got close and could see the hole burned through the back of their neck, through which he could see the whites of their teeth. Glailen would have bet his warblade the culprit was the same person who murdered the first acolyte he found. There was nothing to be done about it, however, as he crouched down and retrieved the last piece he would need. He retreated from the chamber, eager to leave the tomb behind.

As he came in sight of the exit, he could see the sun was setting. He considered spending the night in the valley – there was no way he would fall asleep in the tomb with the chance of encountering more flying beasts – but decided against it. What he really wanted was to get back to the academy as soon as possible and ultimately, he wasn't too tired to continue. Resolved to keep walking through the night, Glailen quickened his pace a little only to stop dead. Through the Force he could sense he wasn't alone and he didn't wait for whoever it was to show themselves before he had his warblade in hand. After a moment a man stepped out from an alcove. He was smaller than Glailen but lean, dirty blonde hair matted to his forehead by sweat. In his right hand was a warblade, it was active. His eyes moved from side to side as though constantly expecting a threat to appear.

He was a picture of worn-out desperation.

"You did it, didn't you? Got all the shards, I mean." It didn't sound like a question coming from the other man but Glailen had no interest in answering either way.

"You need to get out of my way." His tone was firm but the other man seemed not to even notice he had spoken.

"There's only three of us left. Vemrin's already gone off to Baras; the others were either killed by him or by the shyracks. That leaves you and me." Those shifting eyes met Glailen's and he could see the madness brewing within. What had happened in the tomb had all but broken the other acolyte. Tragic, but Glailen had somewhere to be.

"Step aside."

"I can't go back without the shards. I can't!" The man raced towards Glailen, shouting a primal howl to the night that echoed off the tomb walls. When a meter separated the two, Glailen moved to meet him. Then they stood paces apart with their backs to each other.

A warblade clattered to the stone floor.

"I…I…" The acolyte dropped to his knees.

"I don't want to be Sith…" He slumped over and remained still.

Without looking back, Glailen began his walk through the valley, through the tunnel, back to the academy. His backpack felt heavier than he thought it would.