Ashes of Time

by FallenAscendant

The Jedi took his life away, the Sith forced him into another but it was the Empire that gave him purpose. Glailen Reichscher learned that the galaxy is a place of many threats and little mercy. Now he's resolved to become the deadliest of those threats and never be at the mercy of another ever again. But would he live long enough for it to make a difference?

9. Chapter Eight: Maw of Madness

Chapter 8: Maw of Madness

Being greeted by the whisper of a scowl on Lieutenant Thain's face was about what Glailen expected upon his return to the Imperial outpost. He didn't spare the officer a glance as he passed him on the bridge; the mere fact Glailen had survived said enough. Instead his gaze swung over the outpost, noting nothing was different from when he had left. That too was expected. It was entirely unlikely that news of the death of Grathan's son had reached anywhere beyond the Sith Lord's compound. As such, there was no bustling commotion to greet his return and that was disappointing. Glailen knew, however, that his feelings stemmed from something more. The identity of the assassin wouldn't be known and therefore Glailen would never receive the credit he earned for a completed. Not that there was much credit to be given. Once again, he had succeeded in the task his master had given him but there was a lack of fulfillment to be gained.

What he did was not for the Empire, it was for Darth Baras. If anything, he was helping his master in harming the Empire, albeit in small ways. Still, this was not what he had imagined during the days of his training as an initiate or after. He had expected to be given tasks that would directly benefit his master but had also expected there to be a balance with missions that helped the Empire. Perhaps that had been naïve of him. Telling himself that did nothing to dim his growing frustration. Maybe he was just tired – he was tired, but if he was being honest with himself, he didn't think that had anything to do with it. The simple truth was Glailen couldn't help thinking he was being wasted.

"No one to greet us," commented Vette at Glailen's side.

"Most don't even realize we went anywhere of note," replied the Sith apprentice.

"Fine with me, just means less interruptions as we find the first transport back to the city." Glailen grunted his agreement. He couldn't do anything about his other issues but he could get some downtime before Baras came up with something new for him to do.

"I won't argue with you. We've earned a rest."

"Speaking my language," said Vette as she elbowed Glailen's side before pointing beyond the outpost. There were a number of vehicles lined up with most being off-loaded of personnel and equipment. Once they were empty it was likely they would be returning to Kaas City to reload.

"Come on, let's grab something fast before they leave without us!" Vette started jogging over with Glailen trailing behind, refusing to go faster than a brisk walk. He wasn't that far behind but it was enough time for Vette to get into an argument with a couple of supply officers. As he came up to the trio, the twi'lek gestured toward him.

"See? This is my pal, the Sith," Vette spoke, waving an arm at Glailen for emphasis, "so could you stop assuming I'm lying?" The Imps, still looking unconvinced, turned their attention to Glailen.

"Greetings, my Lord," the senior of the two said as they bowed their heads, "this twi'lek claims to be working with you."

"Her claim is correct," stated Glailen bluntly. It was clearly not the answer the two officers were expecting but to their credit they recovered quickly.

"Ah, good. Then I presume her request for transport to Kaas City for the two of you is also accurate?"

"You presume correctly."

"Well," the two officers shared a look that lasted only a second, "in that case, there's plenty of space on the return trips. If you're not too bothered by comfort – or lack thereof – then we can arrange for your transport." Ignoring the look, Glailen waved off the men's concerns.

"Comfort is no concern. Thank you." With the matter settled, the officers bowed their heads and beckoned for the pair of passengers to follow them. As they were led to their transport, Vette leaned in close to whisper at Glailen.

"I love watching Imps get corrected," she confided, doing nothing to hide her grin. Glailen grunted in response. Vette's amusement was harmless enough and not wholly unearned. As long as it remained so, there was no reason for Glailen to scold her disrespect towards Imperial authority.

The pair were led to a shuttle just as the off-loading was being completed. As the last few crates of supplies were brought down the ramp, Glailen and Vette were ushered inside. The supply officer hadn't downplayed the accommodations at all. Inside the shuttle was standing room only because there were no seats unless one was comfortable sitting on the floor. It didn't come as a surprise to Glailen though, having any seats in the way would have been an inefficient use of space for a ship moving supplies. As things were, he considered it lucky that straps descending from the ceiling offered something for the pair to hold on to other than the brace-bars against the walls. In any case, they wouldn't be on the shuttle for long at all as the trip back to Kaas City was a short one. Even Vette seemed unconcerned as she was keeping quiet; although that may have been born more from a desire to not reveal any disappointment or regret to any Imperials.

After only a few minutes, the shuttle closed up and began its ascent to the airways. The lone occupants settled at one side of the ship near one of the few viewports available. Glailen slid down the wall to sit on the floor. At this point he would take whatever rest he could. Vette took to looking through the glass, watching the landscape rush by, while Glailen took out his holocommunicator.

"So back to the apartment, right?" asked Vette without taking her eyes from what little stimulus her mind could find.

"Yes, hopefully, I just need to check in with my master."

"Lucky you," Vette quipped. Glailen ignored her as the communicator began attempting to connect to Darth Baras. Five seconds went by. Then ten. The call failed. Glailen frowned in thought, wondering why the connection wasn't able to be established. No, the connection was good, it was just that no one had picked up on the other end. For Baras to leave a call unanswered was…unexpected. Glailen tried again with the same result. He put away the communicator and got to his feet.

"He's not responding. Odd as there doesn't appear to be any interference. He's just not answering." Unsurprisingly, Vette didn't appear overly concerned with the news Glailen had delivered, not even bothering to look away from the window.

"Doesn't want to talk to you," she commented with a shrug, "don't take it personally. Let's give him some space – stay away for a few days – and then try again some other time." Humming, Vette continued pressing her nose against the viewport. It wasn't long, however, before she could no longer ignore the feeling of Glailen staring at her. As she finally pulled her gaze from the glass, she met Glailen's impassive expression.

"What?"

"We have to go back to the temple," stated Glailen, keeping his patience.

"Do we though?" questioned Vette, trying to urge a particular answer out of Glailen.

"Yes. If I don't debrief my master," Glailen grimaced at the image that formed in his mind, "he wouldn't like that." It looked like Vette was going to argue but at the last second, she reconsidered with a shake of her head.

"You know what? That's fair. So long as we get some R&R afterwards." With that Vette went back to staring out the viewport. Glailen said nothing as well, he especially didn't tell Vette that they would get a chance to rest. He didn't want to make a promise he was sure he was as likely to break as keep.

Glailen remained standing for the rest of the trip, using one of the brace-bars to steady himself. He wanted to take the opportunity to at least give his feet a break but he couldn't bring himself to do so now. There was too much anxiety rolling around in his head for him to let down his guard at all. It was silly, really. Just because his master hadn't answered the call, that didn't mean there was something to be worried about. Yet, that was exactly how Glailen interpreted it as. In the time he had known Baras, despite how short it was, his master had never failed to answer a call. He was, in fact, very prompt with getting new reports. For him to fail to pick up twice, it filled Glailen with great unease.

The relatively short flight seemed to take much longer to Glailen, which he attributed to his growing concern. Eventually, however, the transport did make a landing. There was no announcement that they would be landing though. Either the pilot forgot they had live cargo or were simply not informed. Both explanations didn't keep Glailen from being annoyed but he knew when landing procedures began by the shift in momentum on the ship. Once the vehicle had come to a complete stop, the back hatch opened and the ramped extended out. Glailen was walking on the extending plate before it had finished its placement; Vette chose to wait the extra few seconds. The transport had brought them to a supply depot, which made sense as it was probably meant to load up and head out again. It did, however, come as a surprise to the workers waiting for the ship when a Sith and twi'lek emerged. For one reason or another, no one asked any questions as Glailen marched past those present with Vette hurrying to catch up. It was just as well; Glailen wasn't interested in delays at the moment.

Glailen had expected the shuttle to drop them off somewhere close to but outside of the city. He was pleasantly surprised they were actually within the city walls. He thought it odd the depot would be relatively close to civilian centers but concluded any particularly dangerous must have been located elsewhere. That was no his main concern as he headed for the edge of the depot grounds. If he and Vette were to get another transport to the temple then they were likely to find at least a few close by. Personnel would need transport to and from the depot fairly regularly, whether for professional or personal reasons. Glailen was pleased to find he had calculated correctly as the pair reached a sort of transit area. A hovercab was taking off, going further into the city, adding further evidence. Requisitioning transport for themselves took only a moment and soon the pair were on their way to the Sith Temple.

The temple itself seemed calm enough, indicating there wasn't likely to be an emergency relevant to the Empire causing Baras' silence. This did little to sooth Glailen worries. He hadn't really expected his master's absence to be so important. Although, Baras himself might not see things the same way. Regardless, Glailen marched to his master's quarters, trying his best not to look hurried or concerned. After only a few trips to the temple, Glailen was already certain that there was some etiquette that demanded Sith on the grounds did not too excitable. It was probably more a worry of one's peers not taking them seriously than anything else but Glailen opted to do his best in imitating it. For now, at least.

Luckily Baras' chambers weren't buried deep in the temple and Glailen and Vette soon found themselves at the stairs leading down to their destination. Pausing at the top, Glailen looked down the staircase, imagining what he might find. Nothing – probably. Something? Too possible. What was more, what he was prepared to encounter was certainly not necessarily what his companion was ready for. He looked at Vette who was already staring at him, likely wondering why he was hesitating.

"You could stay up here again if you'd prefer, Vette," said Glailen and almost immediately winced as a thought crossed his mind.

"I don't think an ordeal like last time is likely to happen again."

Vette stared at Glailen for a second, then shifted her gaze to the stairs and then again to look back the way they'd come. Glailen followed her eyes' movements, thinking he was following her train of thought as well. He had to admit her options weren't the most encouraging. But sometimes that was all there was to choose from. 'When there are no easy moves, you remember you're not a child and pick one.' Glailen nodded inwardly at the memory that came to life in his mind's eye. Vette appeared to a reach a decision of her own at the same time.

"I can't hide away every time you go to see your boss. Like it or not, I'm stuck in this Sithy world now and I should get used to it, right?"

"That's certainly one way of putting it, yes," said Glailen as he turned towards the stairs. If Vette was truly decided then there was no need to wait.

When Glailen took that first step, however, he stopped and stared down the flight of stairs. There was nothing he was looking at but his mind was occupied. He was overcome with a heavy pressure in the Force. It wasn't surprising but rather expected that the temple was permeated with the Dark Side, like an ever-present mist. What Glailen felt now was different. It was like walking into rushing water. The Dark Side was being channeled and maintained in a small space if the difference between sensing it and being oblivious was a single foot. He could guess what the source was.

Perhaps he should tell Vette to stay behind. This was looking to be more than a simple a talk with a callous and cold dark lord of the Sith. Glailen considered it but quickly disregarded his concerns. Vette had made her choice and he would respect her stance. Although perhaps a word of caution was wise. Seconded by the fact Vette was looking confused and worried that Glailen was frozen in place. He spoke over his shoulder.

"I sense…something. This could be dangerous; stay alert."

"As if I wasn't already?" questioned Vette in a shaky tone; her hands settled on the grips of her blasters. Grunting, Glailen resumed his descent into his master's lair.

They reached the end of the staircase. At the end of the hall is a single door that leads further. It looked so unassuming and perhaps to Vette it was even so. Not for Glailen. For him it meant so much more. It was taunting him. As the got closer, Glailen could feel the source of the Dark Side he felt growing more dominant. Part of him, the part that still struggled to accept the role he was meant to fill, desperately wanted to flee this place. Then there was the other part, the one that was born and molded at Training Facility 13, wanted – needed – to get through that door. It needed to understand how such power was possible and, more importantly, how to obtain it. With these two selves waring within him, Glailen fell into the third part of him that he sought refuge with so often. The part of him that was forged by pain for the purpose of survival in the short years before his arrival at the facility. He advanced unhurried and without hesitation.

Reaching the door, Glailen swiped his card and passed through only to stop just inside. He didn't waste time looking the room over, focusing immediately and entirely on his master. Darth Baras had his back to the doorway, still facing the Republic agent restrained on the interrogation table. The agent appeared unconscious, however, but Baras didn't turn away from him. Glailen studied his master carefully. He wasn't sure Baras knew he was there. The Sith lord seemed uncharacteristically distracted.

Slowly, Glailen advanced, one cautious step at a time. He had only taken a few steps when he noticed his master begin to shake. A slight tremble but from who it was coming from it held a great deal of significance. Immediately Glailen held out a hand, signaling Vette to stay put. If he weren't distracted, Glailen might have wondered why he did such a thing. What good would a couple of meters do in keeping Vette from danger? Was he willing to step between his master and Vette, despite having almost certainly no hope of surviving? If he wasn't already occupied, perhaps Glailen would ask himself these questions and more but such was not the case. All of his attention was on Darth Baras. He took another step closer.

"Master?"

"I cannot break him!" roared Baras with a rage that shook the room. Glailen tensed, one hand gripping his lightsaber before he knew it was moving. A threatening gesture if his master were to turn around that moment but he didn't even scold himself for the move. Not now.

"A mere Republic dog resists my will – my will! – and would deny me of what I seek! If I push any further than he'll die a death of agony and screams, which would be too good for him, but I still need him! He must speak!" Suddenly Baras thrust his clawing hands forward as though wishing to strangle the last bit of life from the restrained and still unconscious agent. The suffocating pressure of the Dark Side closed in, a crushing sensation filling the room. Oh yes, this was power Glailen wanted but not what he was ready for.

"Speak, damn you!"

Glailen's heart was pounding in his chest, fearing any wrong move or word spoken would be his final mistake. Behind him Vette was petrified, unable to even make a wrong move. There was no stepping away from this though, Glailen realized that. He had to pick his next words very carefully and they had to be spoken with conviction. Licking his lips, he forced his mouth to obey his commands.

"Search within yourself, Master, and the answer will come."

The dark lord whipped around as though taken off-guard by the voice of another. Was it possible Baras hadn't actually known he wasn't alone? It didn't matter; he definitely knew now. For a terribly long moment, Glailen was sure his master would attack, unleashing a storm of lightning that would leave every inch of his body singed before he could even ignite his lightsaber.

There was no lightning, just an uncomfortably tense stare-down. Gradually, Glailen felt the pressure in the room begin to dissipate and his master slowly relaxed. Suddenly he began shaking again but after a second Glailen realized this time it was from laughter.

"The minion seeks to advise the master, eh? Good, good." As Baras continued his chuckle, Glailen relaxed as well. He straightened and gave Vette a reassuring nod. She didn't appear very certain but followed his lead. As Glailen turned back to Baras, he found his master was now muttering thoughtfully.

"There must be an unknown power shielding this dog's mind. That is the only way he has been able to resist me. But I am not yet out of options," the dark lord stated before walking over to a table at the other end of the room. Glailen followed a few steps behind.

"I trust your last mission was successful?" Baras spoke while continuing to face away. Hopefully he couldn't sense the ever so slight hesitation in Glailen's step at the question. Glailen had been so worried with what his master would do in an uncontrolled rage that he had allowed himself to forget the dangers of when the Sith lord was in control of his faculties.

"Of course, Master," Glailen spoke as calmly as he could, "Grathan's son is dead."

"As it should be. Now I have a new mission for you."

Glailen suppressed a sigh of relief. There had been no pause before his master responded; that was enough of an indication for Glailen to believe his words had been accepted. As Baras reached the table, he walked around to the other side allowing him to face his apprentice as he worked. He began speaking whilst typing away at a console.

"A millennium ago, the Emperor claimed Dromund Kaas and built his Dark Temple, making it the epicenter of Dark Side energy. From there he conducted countless experiments, eventually draining the knowledge and life essence from all the most powerful Sith lords of the time."

"Even his own followers?" asked Glailen in disbelief; realizing only after speaking that he was interrupting his master. Baras fixed him with a level stare and not for the first time did Glailen find himself wishing his master didn't wear mask.

"They existed to serve him. So, they did."

'We don't exist to serve the Empire, Glailen, we are at the disposal of the Emperor.' Glailen's mouth tightened as he resisted the urge to argue the point. His master seemed not to notice as he continued.

"The result saw the Emperor become immortal and all-knowing. An important tool in achieving this was a device created by the Emperor called the Ravager. It compelled those who wore it to reveal any secret the Emperor wanted and, in the process, it devoured their minds." Glailen glanced down at the screen built into the table. He could see only text and no image of the device in question.

"With this device I can finally break the Republic dog," Baras finished. Glailen's gaze turned again to his master, a thought occurring to him.

"And it's located within the Dark Temple. Won't the Emperor be displeased with someone borrowing what's his?" Baras waved the worry aside.

"The Emperor is not the concern. He has been absent for some time." Glailen blinked in sudden shock.

"The Emperor is missing?" he asked incredulously.

"Do not be so surprised; it happens periodically. Like all Sith, the Emperor goes where he wills in the pursuit of what he wants and he is not obligated to tell us the where or what." But what about the when – couldn't he at least tell us when he'll return? What is an Empire without its Emperor?

"But he's the Emperor. Does anyone know where he is?"

"Enough," ordered Baras. Recognizing he couldn't prod any further, Glailen restrained himself, bowing his head in submission.

"As I was saying, the danger does not lie with the Emperor's displeasure but rather with the temple itself. Something happened recently that the Dark Council is still working to understand but has made the Dark Temple a death trap."

"May I ask what happened?" queried Glailen cautiously.

"The spirits of long dead Sith entombed in the temple woke up." There was a pause after Baras' last words that Glailen desperately wanted to fill with questions popping into his head. He resisted though, not wanting to test his master's limits again. Embracing the confusion, the unknown and the fear, Glailen waited patiently.

"What reports are available seem to indicate those who enter the temple or even get too close are becoming possessed by these spirits with varying results. Some think they never died and others want revenge for their deaths, yet none seem capable of wandering too far from the temple without losing their connection to their host. However, most aren't even trying to escape the temple. Troubling still is the apparent ability for the spirits to awaken their power in even Force-blind individuals, making all of the possessed very dangerous indeed."

With a click of a button a projection of a video feed sprang to life and began playing over the table. It took a second for Glailen to work out that what he was seeing was recorded footage from the body cam of one member of a team sent into the temple. The recording didn't have any sound but he didn't imagine it would be needed if Baras wanted to show it to him. Glailen could see four people on the screen walking before the person whose perspective he shared. By their armour and weapons, Glailen knew they belonged to the Imperial military but he didn't recognize their unit. They were all walking down a dark tunnel of carved stone, the mounted lights on their blasters dancing ahead of them.

The trooper in the lead stopped abruptly, almost like they were frozen. One tried to approach but the first trooper suddenly began twitching erratically. The remaining troopers leveled their blasters at their comrade but held fire, unsure of what was happening. After a couple of moments, the convulsing trooper snapped into a perfectly straight stance for all of a second before shooting their arms out wide, their hands clutching at nothing. At the same time, the other troopers dropped their blasters and began clawing at their throats, desperately fighting against an unseen force. The possessed trooper turned to face them and then they were lifted off the ground, hovering in midair as they struggled for breath. Finally, the possessed trooper closed their hands into fists and the next instant the footage was replaced by static.

Baras switched off the recording.

"There is a great deal we don't know but that is not a concern for you and I. All you need to worry about is retrieving the Ravager for me."

"Without getting possessed," stated Glailen bluntly, unable to hold back. Baras' immediate response was a light chuckle.

"That is the idea. Not everyone who gets near the temple becomes possessed – something else we don't fully understand, but I hypothesize if you keep your mental defences strong and move quickly, you'll escape the fate."

"And if I don't?"

"Then you will have failed me and a life of possession would be better than facing my wrath. If that happens, I'll have to find another way to break that dog but the chance of gaining the Ravager is worth your life to me." The words bounced around the inside of Glailen's skull as he focused on his breathing. He had to maintain his composure; he couldn't allow himself to falter. It seemed with each passing word his – irritation? No, anger – grew, along with his fear. But as they grew, so too did his connection to the Dark Side. When he spoke, it was with a hardened tone.

"How will I know it when I find it?"

"There should be inscriptions on it to mark it as the Ravager," Baras said, taking a seat at the desk. He clasped his hands together and the mask tilted towards Vette.

"If you're still unsure then test it on your twi'lek but do not waste my time by bringing back anything but what I need." Fear and anger erupted within Vette to the point where Glailen worried she would actually voice a retort. Glailen quickly fixed her with a meaningful stare, silently imploring her not to overstep. She met his eyes grudgingly but when she finally did, she had to relent. Getting a word in was not worth her life. Besides, if Glailen could sense her emotional response then Baras could as well and he clearly did not care whether she was offended or not.

"You are dismissed, Apprentice."

"Master." Glailen bowed his head before turning for the door. Vette beat him to it.

---

While there was a lot Vette didn't think she could get used to, working with Sith, she was undecided about hovercab rides punctuated with uneasy silence before a mission. Maybe her mood would be more improved if it didn't always seem to be depressingly dark on Dromund Kaas. As it was, she found herself doing the only thing she could do, which was staring out her side's window at a dreary landscape. Well, she was actually doing two things; the second being worrying about what she could expect on the mission.

'Test it on your twi'lek,' the words kept circling Vette's mind. The callousness of it, the complete lack of concern for her well being. She shouldn't be surprised, she knew of course because she was dealing with Sith, but it still stung. Why shouldn't it, really? She was a living person who felt the same things as anyone else on this awful world. What was more, she knew that Baras would have said something similar if she were human as well but the issue was that it wouldn't be the same. He didn't use the word partner or servant or even slave – he used her species. It grated and nearly pushed her over the edge but, of course, Glailen had been there. Probably for the best really. Besides, wouldn't do anything like that to her. She didn't think so, anyway.

She looked over at the other occupant of the hovercab. Glailen was looking out the window on his side, head leaning on a fist. He was probably a mirror reflection of what Vette had looked like. She tried to think of him forcing that Sith thing onto her head. Tried to imagine him using her as a test subject. It didn't fit. No, she didn't believe for a second that Glailen would betray her. So why did she keep thinking about it? The answer came easily, if unwanted. She kept thinking about what Baras said because she was too scared to think about what Glailen was probably thinking about. That they were probably not coming back from this one. It was a mission that could charitably be referred to as a suicide mission.

"So, this is pretty crazy," asked Vette, trying to sound casual but fearing her shaky voice was betraying her, "right? I'm not wrong for thinking that?"

"No."

"Good, glad we're on the same page." Glailen didn't turn to face her; maybe he saw something outside the window. Probably not though. He was likely just as worried as she was, he just didn't show it by having an uncontrollably jittery leg. Focusing, Vette forced her leg to stop jumping. It was annoying having a nervous twitch. It was like being reminded you didn't have full control over your body. Thinking that just made Vette wonder again what it would be like to be possessed.

"Think we'll make it back?" she asked in a whisper. There was no response from Glailen. She looked at him but it was like he hadn't even heard her. No, that wasn't it. He had definitely heard her but wasn't ready to answer. Was it fair for her to ask him that? Maybe, but…

"Sorry."

"It's okay," responded Glailen with a sigh.

The trip outside of the city came to an all too sudden stop. It hadn't been a short ride, there had been plenty of time to think about what would come next, but once Vette realized the cab was going to land it happened much too quickly for her taste. She kept telling herself there was nothing to be done about it, that it was best to just face whatever she had to. It was all she could say to herself to keep from freaking out.

Unsurprisingly, the hovercab was not able to bring them very close to the Dark Temple. The best it could do was deliver them to the very edge of the exclusion zone the Empire was enforcing around the structure. Vette was rather surprised by what she saw when they landed though. He had expected a chaotic mass of Imperial activity as everyone worked desperately to find a solution to ancient Sith spirits running amok. Instead, she and Glailen stepped out of the cab into a barebones camp that couldn't have had more than a few dozen people in it. No one looked to be in a hurry. It was so different from what Vette had seen at the outpost on their way to Grathan's compound that she couldn't help but stare in disbelief.

What this camp did have, however, was enough tension to rival what she had felt back at the Sith Temple when it looked like Darth Baras was about to kill Glailen. And her. Not even a Sith could think of this as their happy place, thought Vette as she followed Glailen through the camp. At least, I don't want to meet anyone who could have a smile around here. Glailen spoke with an official about something. Probably how it was too dangerous to go any further and they couldn't guarantee his safety, blah blah blah. She was getting used to that part but she was not used to the feeling in her stomach. She had been scared half to death more times than she could count since arriving on Dromund Kaas – since teaming up with Glailen, for that matter – but this was different. It was like she knew she was going to die if she went any further but she did so willingly, and that was exactly what it was anyway. But it wasn't death she feared and it wasn't death that was promised.

As far as she was concerned, getting possessed was just as likely and, if she were honest with herself, so much worse. The was nothing she hated more in the galaxy than being a prisoner. Being locked up, forgotten and left to rot. How much worse would it be to become a prisoner in her own mind? Suddenly she felt like she would throw-up.

Glailen moved past the aggravated Imp. Numbly, Vette followed. Once they reached the end of the camp, Glailen stopped to take in the area ahead. Vette found her gaze drawn to the massive and imposing structure in the distance, built into the side of a mountain. She couldn't be sure of the scale but it looked to be a few miles away still. Yes, it was big and it filled her with dread unlike anything she had felt before. She tried wetting her lips but they seemed to stay dry no matter how many times she licked them.

"Right, yeah, that looks like a place Sith ghosts would hang out," Vette said nervously, more because she couldn't stand the silence anymore.

"You're not coming with me, Vette." It took a moment for her mind to register what was said but when Vette finally understand, she turned a disbelieving expression at Glailen. She struggled to find her voice but eventually regained the ability to form coherent sentences.

"Not that I'm unhappy about not setting foot any closer to that but," she paused to swallow hard, "why?" Glailen had been looking towards the journey ahead but now turned his gaze to her. Vette had to resist the urge to wince under that cold stare. It seemed almost depthless, like it no amount of joy or despair could fill it.

"Sith have been possessed in there; someone who is not Force-sensitive and without any training would be an easy target." Glailen looked back at the temple in the distance.

"It wouldn't be fair for me to put you in that situation."

"Thanks," said Vette as she struggled with the feeling of light-headedness sweeping over her.

"I have doubts I'll be coming back." Again, Vette was taken off-guard by one of Glailen's statements. She wondered why though; he was merely voicing what they both had been dwelling on since being given this mission. With a sigh, Glailen turned back to her while reaching for something in his pocket.

"I said you serve a Sith but…I won't have you waiting here forever. Take this." Glailen reached out and dropped a small item into Vette's waiting palm. She stared with confusion at the well-polished ring in her had. With just a quick look she could tell it would fetch a good price

"If I'm not back in twenty-four hours then you have my blessing to leave. All I can offer right now is that ring but I'm sure you could use it to secure passage off world." Vette still had half her focus on the ring in her hand so it took a moment for Glailen's words to settle in. When they did, she looked back at him, wide-eyed with shock.

"My freedom?"

"You've earned it," Glailen answered with a nod. Freedom; Vette turned that word over in her head a few times. She had been expecting to get her freedom only through death this day but now here she was being given an out without a cost. It seemed…surreal. The ring in her hand suddenly seemed a great deal heavier.

"What's to stop me from leaving as soon as you're out of sight?" Vette's mouth snapped shut with a click but too late to take back what was said. What? Why did I say that? What is wrong with me? Glailen, on the other hand, had turned his attention back towards the temple and seemed unconcerned. He shrugged and began walking forward.

"Nothing. Like I said, I'm not likely to return, anyway."

That was it, that was all Glailen was going to say as he set out on his mission. Going without much hope of success. Without much hope at all. Vette watched, struggling to – what? What did she want to do? Run after him and most likely die? Turn and run, not stopping until she found a spaceport? Glailen had only taken a few dozen steps but already he seemed beyond reach.

Stupid! You can't just let him go like that, say something!

"You're coming back," Vette called after Glailen. The lone Sith paused, turning his head back to catch a glimpse of her. She stared back defiantly, ignoring the pain in her right hand as she squeezed the ring into her fist. Vette threw up a thumb with her left hand before shouting again.

"You are."

Glailen remained unmoved for a long moment. Then he was moving again. Then he was gone, descending a slope. Vette stared at where she lost sight of him for some time. After a little while she shook herself and looked around, feeling foolish for staring at nothing. Her gaze began sweeping the camp but didn't have to go far before she spotted a couple of troopers staring at her. Feeling suddenly angry enough to punch a Sith, she kept staring back until the pair looked away. It didn't take long to win that one but Vette didn't hold too many delusions about it. She was sure the troopers backed off more because they saw her speaking with a Sith than because they were intimidated by her. Vette couldn't help but wonder how long it would take for someone to forget she came here with a Sith.

A low rumble rolled overhead. Rain was sure to follow shortly after. Vette turned her face up to the ominous clouds.

Perfect.

---

While it was not a heavy downpour, the rain was doing nothing to improve Glailen's mood as he continued his trek. He was perhaps halfway to the temple. So far, he hadn't felt any attempt to steal his body but that raised the obvious question; would he feel anything? Would there be any warning before he lost control or would it simply happen regardless of the mental defences he had in place? That was, of course, assuming Darth Baras' theory was correct and that it was even possible to defend against possession. But that was just the beginning. The officer Glailen had spoken with seemed to believe the area of danger was expanding instead of remaining static but the only evidence for that he had was the possessed wandering further from the temple. Maybe the zone of possession wasn't growing at all, perhaps the spirits of the dead Sith couldn't travel far from the sight of their deaths or remains without a host.

Glailen grit his teeth in frustration. There were too many unknowns to this mission. 'Sometimes there's no time for recon, you just have to do the job.' But is that acceptable when the job is for nothing more than the personal interests of a single Sith?' Glailen snapped back at the fleeting memory. He didn't like how he was already arguing with himself when he wasn't even possessed yet.

Or was he?

Stopping, Glailen took a deep breath and looked around. He tested his senses and moved his limbs, sometimes slowly and sometimes quickly. He didn't think he was possessed. It didn't feel like he was. Unless what he was perceiving was an illusion created by the possessing spirit to placate his consciousness. With his frustration growing, Glailen stopped thinking anything and forced his mind to go blank. He focused on his breathing. That was all there was. He couldn't keep going around in circles. Couldn't second-guess every move and decision. Until new information was provided, all he could was continue with the belief that he was still in control of himself.

A stone shifted.

Glailen whipped around with his lightsaber ignited. He scanned the area but saw nothing. Maybe he had just imagined it. Not only was he questioning himself, he was hearing things now too.

Stop that! Focus. Heeding his own words, Glailen deactivated his weapon and turned again.

His eyes met those of a woman's. Before he could react, she thrust out a hand and a powerful force sent Glailen flying back through the air, stopping only when he collided with a large rock. The impact left Glailen stunned and in a daze. He couldn't react when an invisible hand yanked his lightsaber away. It flew to the woman as she leapt into the air and descended towards him. Glailen watched as his lightsaber was ignited and turned against him, watched as he rapidly drew closer.

At the last moment, Glailen sidestepped and the woman's momentum drove the saber into the rock. Before she could recover, Glailen grabbed the woman's wrists and then threw a kick that struck the side of her head. In that moment he wrenched his lightsaber from her grip as she staggered back. She needed a second to gather her wits – Glailen didn't allow it. He stepped in quickly and removed the woman's head from her shoulders.

Glailen stared down at his attacker. They certainly didn't look like a Sith, not with the clothes they wore. In fact, they looked like a researcher of some kind. The only thing that hinted at what lay within was their eyes. Oh yes, those were the piercing yellow of a Dark Side user. None of that was surprising, Glailen had already seen video evidence of Force powers manifesting in the possessed, of course. What gave him pause was the fact the woman hadn't said anything at all. They had just tried to kill him without warning. Although, the more he thought about it the more he realized it shouldn't surprise him. Whoever they were, they probably wanted a lightsaber of their own and wasn't about to trust another Sith. Especially when the reason they were dead was because of another Sith; possibly even one they had trusted. It seemed, from this point on, if Glailen wanted a better chance of surviving then he needed to strike first whenever possible.

As he resumed his walk to the temple, another disturbing thought entered Glailen's mind. After he killed the woman, what happened to the spirit possessing her? Were they gone for good or still trapped in the lifeless body? Had they tried to breach Glailen's mental walls and failed or were they already inside, waiting for him to let his guard down? Glailen gave his head a shake, trying to toss aside the troubling thoughts before they did any more damage. I have to get this mission done as quickly as possible, or I'll go insane. That ominous thought hounded Glailen as he made his way closer to the Dark Temple.

It wasn't long before he came across someone else. He heard them first. They weren't trying to hide themselves. To the contrary, they seemed not to care about anything going on around them. All of their attention was on their personal struggle. Glailen followed the sound of whimpering until he found a man in military garb kneeling down, almost curled in on himself. If they noticed Glailen's approach, for he made little effort to hide himself, then they didn't react. They were shaking, muttering to themselves in-between sobs. For a time Glailen stood over them, wondering what to do. Maybe he should just carry on but he didn't like the idea of leaving a potential threat at his back in this situation. Interrupting this man in this clearly delicate moment also didn't sit well with Glailen. Eventually prudence won over. Glailen hadn't come to this place to be friendly.

"Who are you?" he demanded. The spoken question seemed to get through to the man as whimpering and muttering ceased. No response was forthcoming though and for a long moment there was no movement or sound. Glailen began to wonder if he should have simply moved on.

"Who am I?" croaked the man. He slowly unfurled to sit up straight but did not meet Glailen's eyes. Instead his attention was fixated on his own hands. Turning them over, he seemed unconvinced that they were in fact his.

"I don't know who I am…that's the problem. I don't know who I am!" Suddenly the man whirled around to face Glailen who stared back unflinching at those wild eyes. He could see the lines on the man's dust-smeared face where tears had run freely. Now it seemed the man had no more left to give but his problem was still very much with him.

"I am Lord Yu'luinder," he shouted through a ragged throat, "a Lord of the Sith and your end!" Despite the proclamation, the man made no move to attack Glailen. Instead taking on a confused look, staring blankly.

"No, that's not right…I'm Private Second-Class Pok Korren, Imperial Defense Force, Kaas City detachment. Aren't I?" The man shook his head and began clawing at his hair, struggling with his mounting confusion.

"Maybe I am Sith. It feels so real – this power feels so real! But then again, I don't recognize these memories. Who are all these people? Why do I feel such strong hatred?" Dropping his arms, the man looked back at Glailen. This time Glailen had a hard to meeting his eyes for their beseeching gaze asked a great deal. Perhaps too much.

"Tell me, please, who am I?"

Glailen shut his eyes.

The next instant he was kneeling before the man with his lightsaber impaling his chest up to the hilt. As Glailen used one hand to hold the man up, he leaned closer to speak into his ear.

"You are a soldier of the Imperial Army and a citizen of the Sith Empire. This shouldn't have happened to you. Rest now."

"Oh…"

As the single syllable escaped on a final breath, the man's body lost all strength. Glailen deactivated his lightsaber and gently lowered the man to the ground. After closing his eyes, he stood up. He made a mental note to ensure a retrieval party – comprised of droids – was sent in to bring back the bodies of the dead. It was the least they deserved. Of course, that was all predicated on whether or not Glailen did not find himself among the casualties.

The remainder of Glailen's trip to the Dark Temple was uneventful. It made sense given the vast area but when he thought of that he sincerely hoped all measures were being taken to contain the danger. That remained outside of his power to influence, however, and so he did what he could to keep his mind on the mission, eventually reaching the outskirts of the temple. He still didn't appear to be close to the temple but he had definitely reached its grounds. The dirt path became replaced by a cobblestone road. Statues stood vigil to either side; arches spaced every two dozen meters greeted visitors.

Glailen walked the path, feeling unseen eyes watching his progress. It was an eerie sight as the surrounding foliage sought to retake the land but a hidden force fought back against the will of nature. For most, understanding would be difficult if not impossible but not for a Force-user. Not for Glailen. When he had returned to his master and found him in a distraught state, the Dark Side had been a chaotic tempest held back only by Baras' will. This place was different; the Dark Side was everywhere and undeniable but Glailen didn't feel threatened by it. Like walking into a calm lake, Glailen felt the Dark Side of the Force surround him, embrace him. The temptation to reach out and welcome it was…unexpected. Baras had told Glailen that the Emperor had made the Dark Temple a center of the Dark Side but this was not what he had expected to feel. Part of him felt almost invincible in this place and he hadn't even reached the temple itself yet.

Glailen kept his mind focused, not giving in to his desire for the power around him. For all he knew, it was merely a trick by the spirits to get him to lower his guard. Or maybe it wasn't but thinking he could handle so much power was a height of arrogance he was not willing to entertain. Not yet. On this day, right now, he had a mission to complete and that was what he would do.

Before too long, Glailen finally reached the foot of the Dark Temple. There was a wide stairway that led up about twenty meters to a grand entrance that offered only darkness. What caught Glailen's eye was not the doorway though, but rather the figure sitting halfway up the stairway. Also, the dozen or so bodies lying around them.

As Glailen began to ascend the staircase, he studied what lay ahead more carefully. The only person who seemed to be breathing was a ragged man, his clothes in shreds, sitting with his head down and arms resting on his knees. As for the bodies that surrounded him, some appeared to be soldiers while others were civilians of some sort. When Glailen was a few meters away he stopped as the man looked up. Uncaring, eyes watched him. Eyes with red irises. Glailen was careful not to make any sudden movements though he doubted his precaution would have much impact on what came next.

"A Sith," spoke the man, "but not the Sith I wanted." The man cocked his head, studying Glailen for a time. With a sigh he waved a hand, ushering Glailen away.

"Go away and fetch you master, boy. Tell Vitiate, Lord Froht would have words with him." Ironically, Glailen found that he wished he could do as the man wanted – to some degree. He had been taught to give all his loyalty to the Emperor, he was loyal to the Empire, but for the Emperor to be missing…it was unacceptable in Glailen's mind. But regardless of how he felt, it simply wasn't possible for Glailen to follow through with the man's demand.

"Even if I were on speaking terms with the Emperor, I couldn't do that."

"Then find someone who can. Stop wasting my time." Losing patience, the man – Lord Froht – rose from his seated position. Where before he had regarded Glailen with a mild interest, now his eyes began to blaze with a deep anger. Glailen did not back down from that heated gaze, but he also made no immediate move to advance. He felt certain that if he wasn't careful in this situation then he would die quickly.

"I am not here to fight you – with words or otherwise. My master, Darth Baras, has given me a mission and to complete it I must enter the Dark Temple. Allow me to pass."

"Baras…never heard of him," growled Froht, unmoving. Glailen shook his head in frustration.

"That does not alter the situation."

"No, it does not, and neither do your concerns change my commands." Lifting an arm, Froht pointed back the way Glailen had come. He pointed straight towards Kaas City in the distance.

"Bring me Vitiate."

"No," said Glailen with finality. The arm dropped and the anger washed away from Froht. He took on the unconcerned look of earlier.

"Then you are of no use to me," with a wave of Froht's hand, half a dozen blasters from the dead troopers rose into the air and pointed at Glailen. In an instant, Glailen's lightsaber was in his hands. Froht remained unworried, going so far as to turn away and begin walking up the stairs. He looked over his shoulder for a final word.

"Die."

All at once the blasters began firing at Glailen. Under that hail of fire, it was all he could do to keep from being reduced to a smoking pile of flesh. His lightsaber danced through the air, trying to be everywhere at once but it soon became necessary for Glailen incorporate quick footwork into his defence. A defence that was becoming untenable. He would tire and fall before the blaster rifles lost their charge. Redirecting fire was difficult against such small targets, especially when they became shifting positions. Only one solution was apparent.

With a burning resolve Glailen stormed up the stairs. His lightsaber continued to maintain its shield as Glailen pushed forward. Ignoring the blasters, he passed, the Sith apprentice took the stairs three at a time to cut the distance as quickly as possible – he had to reach his target before they realized the danger they were in.

Froht was slow to notice the closing footfalls having dismissed the young Sith. It didn't take long for them to draw too close to ignore, however, and his curiosity got the better of him. He began to turn. Glailen did not allow his opponent time to take in the situation. He drove his lightsaber into Froht's side, cutting a burning path through his chest to come out above the shoulder. Froht's stunned expression met Glailen's cold stare. Behind them, the blasters had already fallen to the ground, no longer a threat.

"That…was unexpected," Froht gasped as his second chance at life slipped away. With his last bit of strength, he fixed Glailen with a meaningful look.

"Don't trust him," he breathed out and did not inhale again.

Glailen switched off his weapon and stepped aside, allowing the body to tumble down a few stairs. He then ascended the rest of the way up the staircase. Upon reaching the top, he looked into a wide maw silently calling him closer. Beckoning him to enter and wrestle with the insanity within.

Cocking his head to the side, Glailen wondered at what he was feeling. No, he was wondering why he felt nothing. He had expected to feel fear of death and the unknown or anger at his master for sending him on this errand. There was none of that; not anymore. Or rather, there was something but it was small. A fear but old and distant. Something Glailen refused to acknowledge because he couldn't for it would be too much. So he caged it and threw it into the very depths of his mind. All that remained was a man determined not to die in some deep, dark place.

Glailen breathed in, then exhaled slowly.

He walked into the Dark Temple.

---

At first being rained on wasn't much fun but after some time there just wasn't much point in caring anymore. Vette was thoroughly drenched from head to toe and while she might catch a cold as a result, she didn't worry about it. There was shelter, of course, but it would have to be raining acid or lava or something for her to share a tent with some Imps. At least without a friend close by.

A friend like Glailen.

Sighing, Vette looked up from her work, hoping against hope that she would see her Sith buddy walking towards her. Nope. Not so lucky. With that out of the way, she went back to her important work: drawing little stick people with a knife onto supply crate she sat on. Oh sure, the local Imps probably wouldn't appreciate it but they were all too busy being dry inside their very grey, very dull, tents. Therefore, there was no one to stop her. Besides, it really was important work. She had already made a family of five and gave them some neighbours but now she needed to make some friends for the first family's kids or who would they play with? Afterall, just because she didn't get a nice, boring, stable family life, that didn't mean others couldn't.

"Greetings."

Jumping from the unexpected voice, Vette gave one of the little kids an arm three times longer than their body. Now that looked weird and was entirely impossible to fix. Irritation overcame the worry at having been caught vandalizing Imperial property. Looking up, Vette gave the man before her a stern glare and pointed the knife at him.

"Something I can do for you?" she asked with a tone implying the man didn't want to make any trouble. Perhaps she should have given her brain a chance to catch up with her mouth. Once the words were out, she began to really look at who stood in front of her. He was a young, pale man with short, spiky, red hair and odd dotted scars along his lips. He was shorter than Glailen but definitely had a strong build.

And was definitely Sith.

Vette recognized what those yellow irises meant and that was a very similar uniform to what Glailen wore. This guy was a Sith – apprentice, at worst – and she had just pointed a knife at him. It was strange then that the Sith didn't react by threatening a slow death in reparation. He was, in fact, smiling in a friendly way and holding up a hand as though begging off any sudden attacks.

"Sorry, it's just not common to find a twi'lek by themselves and I was…curious." The man's demeanour didn't set off any alarms in Vette's mind, even with her certainty that he was Sith, but she wouldn't allow herself to drop her guard. Sith were Sith, after all. Some – most, even – were raging beasts but others were serpents waiting to strike. One couldn't trust everything they said.

"Don't get any ideas; my Sith friend just went to that temple over there. He told me to wait here." Vette didn't like using Glailen as a shield but knew enough to understand she didn't have any better options. Not against a Sith. The man glanced over his shoulder, taking in the Dark Temple off in the distance, before looking back at Vette with open surprise.

"The Dark Temple? If nothing else he must be a man with no shortage of confidence."

"He knows what he's doing. Not afraid of a fight." Vette kept her voice stern. She figured this guy was just as likely to consider her comments a legitimate threat as ignore them completely. Right now, she was counting on the former or things were probably going to get unpleasant for her.

The Sith seemed to understand there was more meaning to her words as his eyebrows rose as high as they could go. After a moment he recovered and let out a light chuckle. He then backed up a step and raised his hands in a placating gesture.

"Forgive me, I believe I've approached this conversation wrong," said the man calmly. Then he bowed his head. Vette's eyes went wide and she quickly looked left and right to see if anyone was watching.

"I am Apprentice Onamaeous. I know it's a little odd for me to just walk up to you and start talking but I…wanted to speak with someone before I went to the Dark Temple." Vette blinked a few times before she worked through what Onamaeous had said.

"You're going there too? What is it with Sith and playing with ghosts?" she asked, trying to sound casual.

"Believe me, I wouldn't be going if I had a choice in the matter," responded Onamaeous, adding a laugh at the end. He was laughing at a probable terrible fate. Either he was crazy or he was using it as a defence mechanism and Vette was reasonably sure he wasn't short a few power converters. Onamaeous must have taken her visible confusion for a question as to why he would go to the temple for he began to elaborate.

"The Dark Council has taken notice of the possessions happening and tasked my master with finding a solution. Being my master's apprentice, the task, naturally, has fallen to me." Vette couldn't help but grin. It was an awful job but one wouldn't know that by looking at Onamaeous' rather boyish smile. The fact that he could hold a smile at all in the situation pretty much meant she had to do the same.

"Naturally. That seems to be a running theme around here. Apprentices getting to do the dirty work because their masters don't want to risk their own skin."

"It is our role to fulfil," said Onamaeous with a lighthearted shrug. Vette was struck by how different he was from Glailen. No, that wasn't right, he was completely different from every Sith. Despite her initial mistrust, Vette had yet to feel any malign intent and his posture, his demeanour, all seemed…unburdened.

"I apologize for bothering you. I hope your companion returns in good health." With that, Onamaeous backed up and turned away. Much like Glailen, he didn't show any hesitation in his stride as he marched off to the Dark Temple. As different as they were, that alone showed they probably had a lot in common at the same time. Vette rubbed a hand over her head, having a quick inner debate.

"The name's Vette," she called.

Onamaeous turned, still with that smile, and inclined his head in acknowledgement. After that he was gone. Vette was once more left to her own devices. She was just about to go back to her art when a thought occurred to her. What if Onamaeous and Glailen met in the temple?

Oh man, I hope they don't kill each other…

---

The long halls echoed with the heavy, even aggressive, footfalls as a long figure made their way further into the Dark Temple. A single Sith lord navigated the interior of the mighty structure dedicated to the power of the Dark Side. At least, that's what it was claimed to be but once one began to open their eyes the truth was revealed. This temple was not for all Sith, only one. Only those Vitiate allowed were permitted to enter and were required to leave when he ordered it. The temple was a place for Vitiates collections and hobbies. His little experiments. Only fools considered entering a privilege. But something was happening, something that demanded attention.

Sith lords were disappearing.

It wasn't normal. Too many too quickly. It wasn't a coincidence and it couldn't be ignored any longer. They were being kidnapped and one place seemed all too likely to be where they were hidden. One person was almost certainly behind it.

The Dark Temple.

Vitiate.

A faint sound came floating down the hall. It brought the Sith lord out of his thoughts as he came to recognize the noise. Screams were drifting out from the depths of the structure. A melody usually welcomed by the lord now only increased his worries and filled him with dread. His pace quickened until he was flying down the halls. But as he delved further into the temple, the screams grew louder until it seemed impossible that they could be real for how could a living being experience such pain and remain alive?

The Sith lord would find out as he reached a pair of iron doors, behind which the screams were coming from. Within he would find Vitiate – he could never mistake that feeling in the Force. What else he would find, whether his suspicions would prove true or not, was the real question. There was no room for hesitation and so the Sith lord summoned the Force and let out a blast that blew the doors from their hinges.

Glailen blinked. Then again, his eyes regaining their focus. He looked around and quickly shut his eyes again, backing into a wall. Suddenly it was difficult to breath, difficult to think. Just the same two words repeating in his head. I'm buried. I'm buried. I'm buried. A hand struck Glailen in the side of his face. It was his own. He couldn't break here and he knew it. Confused and fighting off panic, Glailen opened his eyes again and looked ahead, down a mostly dark hallway, there were torches on the walls that appeared to hold faintly glowing crystals instead of fire. Then he turned and looked back the way he came. It looked the same. The problem was he didn't recognize any of it. He couldn't recall the steps he took to reach this point. While concentrating on keeping his breathing steady, Glailen tried to work out the last thing he could remember.

I entered the Dark Temple…I entered it because I have to find the Ravager for my Master. Glailen was struck by the effort it was taking to bring back memories that were recent – that should have been recent.

Once inside I found a large hall with stone pillars reaching up at least a hundred feet. There were paths, so many paths, that branched out from the hall. I chose one at random, following it until I found a stairway leading down into darkness. A wave of light-headedness hit Glailen, causing him to sway and lean against the cold wall.

I walked down into that…dark place and then…

Glailen shook his head to try and remove the fog of confusion from his mind. He couldn't recall what happened when he reached the bottom of the stairs. He couldn't even remember reaching the bottom. What happened next was a series of unfamiliar and distorted images before…before waking. The next thing Glailen knew, he was standing in this hallway. What did that mean? Had Glailen actually let his guard down at some point? It was possible but it didn't seem likely to him. Of course, there was never a guarantee that he could protect himself from possession; it was all a theory. But then why was he free now? Was he free? No, don't think like that. You can't question everything or you'll just paralyze yourself. Keep moving, Glailen.

Gritting his teeth, Glailen straightened and considered his options. He didn't like the idea of following the hall any further. It left him with a bad feeling. Possibly irrational but not one he was in a mind to ignore. Glailen began retracing his steps with his goal of returning to the entrance hall. Once there he had many different directions to go in. It was occurring to Glailen that when he set out on this mission he may have underestimated the time he would need. He had planned on leaving the temple only with the Ravager in hand but perhaps it would be best if he returned to the Imperial camp. Getting supplies for a more extended expedition was likely the best course of action. He was so preoccupied with the danger of the task he was given that Glailen hadn't properly prepared. Thinking of that brought a twinge of shame. Glad you're not here to see this, Sergeant, thought Glailen solemnly.

It didn't take long before Glailen began to wonder how far the hallway went. How long had he followed it in his stupor? Glailen checked his datawatch but found it was off for some reason. Trying to turn it on and failing twice elicited an irritated groan from the Sith. There was no way of knowing how long he had been in the temple but for judging how hungry he was. By Glailen's estimation, he hadn't lost any dramatic amount of time like a day or more. Beyond that it was difficult to tell as he had already been hungry when setting off on the mission. Rummaging through the pack at his waist told Glailen he had a couple of power bars left. Combined with his half-full canteen and few hydration pills, Glailen could survive for some time. Just not comfortably. Glailen was now even more convinced that returning to the camp was the right choice.

A few minutes passed when Glailen stopped. He turned to his right and faced an unassuming wooden door. Glailen stared at it in confused surprise. It hadn't even occurred to him before but now, after all the walking he did, this was the first door he had found. Why was it hidden away? Why was it seemingly so far from everything? At the same time, why should he be interested in it so? It was just a wooden door with no special markings and no apparent care given. Even so, Glailen's curiosity wouldn't allow him to go further until he had explored a little.

He tested the doorknob, finding it looked. After briefly wondering if that was odd or not considering the owner of the Dark Temple, Glailen used the Force to rip the door from its hinges. Considering everything else going on, it didn't seem likely that the Emperor would take special interest in a single ruined door. Though, I suppose that depends on what I find inside, thought Glailen with less worry than he expected. After learning of the Emperor's regular absences, the immortal ruler of the Sith Empire seemed…less. Pushing dangerous thoughts aside, Glailen entered the room.

Unlike the hallway, the room had no light but Glailen did have a miniature flashlight which he used now. It smelled musky inside, as though no one had cleaned in a long time, though that didn't come as a surprise. Glailen swung the light from one side of the room to the other, hoping he would find something that would validate his need to break in. On both sides of the room were shelves lined with hundreds of books. Opposite the doorway was a small desk and chair facing the wall. On the desk was a lamp holding another of those crystals, though this one seemed to have lost whatever gave the others their glow. There was also a single book, closed and placed at the center of the desk. I'm in a study, thought Glailen, I'm in the Emperor's study. Or at least one of them, he amended, deciding someone who had lived as long as the Emperor must have accumulated more ancient tomes than there were in the room.

Despite the many books arrayed for Glailen to choose from, he found his attention held by the one on the table. He walked closer to get a good look at it. There was no title that he could see on the front or spine, only an emblem on the front. After a moment Glailen recognized the symbol as one he had seen years before – the seal of the Emperor. Suddenly feeling more anxious about where he was and what he was doing, Glailen was hesitant to go any further with his discovery. As before, his curiosity soon got the better of him, reasoning that any of the many possessed could have been responsible for what he had done and what he would do.

Glailen leaned closer and opened the book, flipping ahead a few pages. He gave it a quick look over, noting that while the handwritten words were quite faded, they could still be made out if studied carefully. Glailen flipped past a couple more pages but when he stopped his eyes took on a different interested light. There was a diagram for a rod of some sort on one page with text on the other. Unless he missed his guess, Glailen concluded it was an artifact of some value. Quickly sifting through more pages, Glailen found more such pictures but each was of a different item. Glailen's mind began to race. If the Emperor had dedicated a book to the descriptions, both visual and through writing, of artifacts he owned then surely the Ravager would be among them.

Glailen considered sitting down to check through the book but it wasn't exactly small and he would need to check each page carefully. There was no guarantee that the Ravager would be something that looked like it belonged on a person's head. While he wasn't too bothered by having to do the research, he didn't want to do it where he currently was, which was to say he would rather go over the book at the Imperial camp than where he was constantly in danger of being possessed. True, it was possible there were more books in the room made for the same purpose and the Ravager was actually listed in one of them, however Glailen was certain he would be keener on looking through them after he ensured he was better prepared for a long stay.

Accepting the possibility, he would have to come back to this room, Glailen closed the book and placed it under his arm. He left the study with his prize feeling as though he hadn't made the perilous trip for nothing. As he left the room he stopped abruptly. There was screaming; faint, as though far away. It was coming from the other direction, further into the temple. Where he had been going when…not fully aware. Or was there any screaming? Given everything that had happened so far, it was certainly possible someone was in pain somewhere in the dark but it was also possible that what Glailen heard couldn't be trusted. Was it real or not? Neither answer was ideal.

Ignoring the sound, Glailen resumed his journey retracing forgotten steps. This time it wasn't long before he found what he sought. The hallway ended at a stairway that led up. He couldn't see the top through the dark but Glailen was nonetheless energized by the prospect of reaching ground level. He climbed the stairs quickly, resisting the urge to run. Abandoning caution now was only inviting doom in some shape.

After a couple of dozen steps, Glailen was able to make out the top of the stairway. He breathed an involuntary sigh of relief and again when he finally reached the top. So great was his relief that he failed to notice right away the sound of clashing lightsabers.

Cocking his head to the side, Glailen listened more intently to what sounded like a heated battle. Was he imagining it as was possible earlier? He didn't think so. This sounded too close, like he could turn a corner and find the source. Glailen attempted to reach out with the Force to confirm if anyone else was truly nearby but all he could sense was the Dark Side.

Focused and tensed to react, the Sith apprentice slowly walked forward. He was in a large hall with enormous, round pillars reaching up to the ceiling. With each step Glailen began to recollect more clearly being in this room. He looked off to his left knowing the way out of the temple was in that direction, but feeling undecided on leaving just yet. A minute ago, all he wanted was to get out but now, as he turned to the right where the hall extended further, he was curious about the battle he could hear playing out. Whoever was fighting, they were definitely doing so nearby. A quick look would surely be harmless and of course he didn't need to engage. Although, if someone needed help then Glailen supposed he would assist – if he could determine who was possessed and who wasn't.

Glailen moved silently, keeping the pillars between him and the fight and cutting across the distance between two quickly. He wanted to get relatively close before potentially revealing himself and by listening to the clashing lightsabers, he had a fair estimation of where he wanted to be. When two pillars remained, Glailen stopped and began working his way around the side furthest from the fight. Soon he was able to peer around and get his first real look at the battle raging. His first look was also the conclusion.

Just as Glailen was able to see the action, one of the combatants drove their reverse-grip lightsaber their opponent. The two fighters seemed to stand frozen for a long moment, standing before a mighty stone statue that had borne witness to their aggression. Finally, the winner retracted their lightsaber and allowed their fallen opponent to collapse. Glailen stared with interest. In this case, a human male of slight build had bested a large pureblood Sith. Of course, neither of them was necessarily what they appeared to be. What truly interested Glailen was while he could see lightsaber burns on the pureblood, he couldn't see any on the human. They had escaped the fight unscathed by all appearances. Furthermore, they looked to be an apprentice as well. Or had been. Glailen grunted irritably. For all he knew, one of the most powerful Sith in history was in possession of that apprentice's body.

A good reason not to get involved, thought Glailen. He had seen all he was going to and that would have to be enough. Just as he was about to turn away, Glailen paused as he stared back at the survivor. He was bending down to pick something from the pureblood's corpse. As he straightened, Glailen caught a glimpse of the item in the man's hand. Something round and metallic.

Glailen froze.

It didn't seem possible – certainly not likely! But there was a chance and letting it go was too risky. Wasn't it? Glailen's wide eyes stayed looked on the object he couldn't help but imagine looked like a crown of sorts. Had he stumbled upon the Ravager in the possession of another Sith? Really, there was only one way to know for sure.

How should I approach this, just walk out and announce myself? If he's one of the possessed then he'll probably just attack. If he's not then he may still attack either out of caution or any number of other reasons. I would be giving up the advantage of surprise.

Kill.

Maybe I need to make the first real move. Attack quickly and subdue him. I don't need to kill him.

Kill.

But I'm dealing with the spirits of Sith Lords while I am a mere lowly apprentice. This isn't a time for altruism. No one else is going to look after me. I have to think of myself first.

Kill!

No chances! In this Force-forsaken place, the only good choice – the only choice is survival!

Glailen dashed out from his hiding spot and leapt into the air. As he descended, he ignited his lightsaber and pointed it at the back of his unsuspecting target. The distance vanished between them in an encroaching red haze.

At the last instant, the other man spun around with his activated lightsaber to intercept Glailen's crushing blow. Glailen was momentarily stunned by the seeming ease with which his opponent had blocked the attack. Once recovered, Glailen quickly attempted a series of strikes to throw the other man off balance. Each attack was comfortably intercepted with no ground given though, revealing no weakness in the man's defenses. Glailen settled for locking blades; he was unable to push back but he used the opportunity to think on his next move. He was larger than the red-haired man but he didn't appear to be struggling to hold Glailen back indicating a strong command of the Force.

Kill him!

Glailen suppressed the unbidden thought. Where was it coming from? He didn't have time to worry about it. The man was staring directly at him, meeting his eyes. For some reason Glailen felt uncomfortable under that gaze. There was no fear or malice in those eyes. Only an unbinding will. Winning against this foe would take all of Glailen's ability and then some. If he won.

Kill him now!

Glailen grit his teeth in frustration, more from his wandering thoughts than the challenge before him. Nevertheless, he used that agitation to fuel his muscles as he began to push against his opponent's defense. Instead of revealing the strain from holding Glailen back, the man turned his head in confusion.

"You're not possessed."

The statement caught Glailen off-guard but as he stared back at the man, he began to understand where it came from. What he hadn't noticed earlier was there was no sign of…madness in the man's eyes. He was completely present instead of appearing to be half distracted or confused as the other possessed had been.

"Neither are you," responded Glailen as he slowly eased the pressure on his lightsaber, though without disengaging entirely.

"No."

Now that they both knew the other wasn't possessed, where did that leave them? Glailen's eyes darted to the object held in the man's hand before he could stop himself. It was no more than an instant but the other Sith caught the motion. Sensing the significance, he brought it a little closer to Glailen; so close he was tempted to risk snatching it away. That was as likely to end badly as anything and so Glailen waited to see what would come of it.

"I picked up this – this crown out of curiosity," stated the man almost absently as his gaze remained inquisitive on Glailen.

"Its previous owner was keen on keeping it away from me, despite my protests that I wasn't interested in it. He was so paranoid that he attacked. I wondered what was so special about it." Glailen held his tongue, unsure of how the man would react if he knew about the Ravager. There was a momentary pause as the other Sith waited for something but, as nothing was offered, he moved on, making a show of looking down at Glailen's right hand.

"But I would be willing to part with it if the price were right. You have something I might find useful," said the man as his eyes returned to Glailen's. Hefting the tome in his hand, Glailen gave a little thought to the matter. Perhaps the item the other man had wasn't the Ravager and the book would reveal the right object to search for. While that was definitely a possibility, Glailen remained certain that he had already found it in the hands of this man.

"An exchange then," replied Glailen, still maintaining a healthy level of caution. The man nodded slowly but Glailen wasn't satisfied.

He'll betray you!

"And I'm to believe you'll make the trade and leave it at that?" asked Glailen accusingly. The man raised a questioning eyebrow at Glailen before blatantly staring at his right eye. A burning sensation came over the right side of Glailen's face; he ignored it but glowered at the other Sith.

"I'd say I'm the one taking the bigger risk here," commented the man, almost too casually. Reining in his anger, Glailen relented and accepted the risk they both had to take.

"Alright."

Slowly and at the same time, both men take a few steps back from each other. Their lightsabers remained active and their eyes remained locked as they moved in almost a mirror fashion. Once they were satisfied with the space between them, they crouched down and placed the items for exchange at their feet. Still moving without hurry, they rose up and began circling, maintaining the silently agreed distance as they switched places. When they were in position, they crouched down again and picked up the item at their feet. The man had his book but, more importantly, Glailen now held the Ravager. He finally took his eyes off the other Sith to look over the crown in his hands, turning it over reverently. A relieved sigh escaped his lips.

"You seem quite relieved to have that crown in your possession."

The statement brought Glailen back to his senses. He looked at the other Sith again with a frown about to form but stopped himself. Why should he dislike the other man? He had held up his end of the bargain. More to the point, it was his idea to make a trade instead of fighting it out as most Sith would have. He was sensible and hadn't done anything to earn Glailen's ire. In fact, he had every right to be angry with Glailen as the former had attacked first. Maybe that was what bothered Glailen; that the other man didn't appear upset at all. Perhaps that annoyed Glailen because he wasn't sure he would do the same if the situation was reversed. It was a foolish thing to think and so Glailen pushed it away. He could be civil too.

"Well, I'm glad we could help each other," he offered, trying to take the edge off his voice. The man nodded, opening the book and flipping through a few pages.

"Yes, I believe this will prove very useful indeed."

"Then I'll be going," said Glailen, turning away.

"Are you done in the temple? I wish you luck on your return then." Glailen was about to ignore the farewell but hesitated; looking back at the other man.

"Be careful here; you can lose yourself without warning." The man stared back, seeing how serious Glailen was, and nodded his understanding. With that Glailen left in earnest. He had done what he could for the other man but he had his own mission to complete. It was time to return to his master with his prize.

Time to leave these ghosts behind.

---

With enough time, boredom can overtake everything in one's mind. Sitting in an Imperial camp? Not special. A haunted Sith temple looming in the distance? Not interesting. Vette was long past caring about either. She understood well the danger Glailen was in – or she thought she had a good idea – but right now she just wanted him to get back already. There was only so long she could sit in the same spot or pace the same two-meter space before she died of boredom. How long had she been waiting for him? She didn't have a holowatch and there was no way she was going to ask one of the other occupants of the camp but it must have been at least a week. Glailen was most definitely testing her patience. Sure, he had given her the option to walk away. But, really, of course she wasn't going to do that and Glailen certainly knew it. Being all dramatic and talking about not coming back. If Vette walked away, she would feel guilty for the rest of her days. Or close enough. So, no, she was not leaving Glailen hanging.

Still, would be great if he could get back before I die.

Vette leaned back against the supply crate she had long since stopped caring was far from comfortable. She looked up at the darkening sky with its grey clouds feeling certain that despite appearing that it was about to rain, the storm was going to hold off until nighttime for optimum misery. If she could avoid that, it would be great. Simply great. All she needed was for Glailen to return so they could leave. She might even forgive him for making her wait so long. Maybe.

With a wistful sigh, Vette tore her gaze from the sky to scan the horizon beyond. Almost immediately her eyes settled on something that had not been there a moment earlier. In the distance she could see a figure walking towards the camp. Hopping down from her perch, Vette wondered out to the edge of the camp for a closer look but couldn't make out who the person was. She looked around to see if anyone else had noticed the oncoming visitor; just as she did, a couple of troopers spotted the lone figure. One of them ran off, presumably to tell someone with a bigger brain, while the other remained to keep an eye on things. Vette couldn't blame them. The entire time she had been dying of boredom in this camp, a few people have gone to the temple but no one has come back. What's more, whoever was coming wasn't necessarily who they appeared to be. It could be dangerous.

Vette lets out a nervous laugh. She might be waiting for an ancient Sith Lord to get close enough to consider killing her. What was she to say? She was curious by nature and this was by far the most interesting thing to happen in ages. One other thing she would consider herself to be was optimistic and so she wanted to believe that Glailen was the one walking over. Not just his body, of course, but his mind as well.

After a minute or so, the figure got close enough that Vette was willing to bet money they were Glailen. The only thing causing her to hesitate was that the person was walking with their head down as they stumbled around. Watching that didn't fill Vette with confidence but, that seemed like something someone not in their right mind would do but it could also be due to exhaustion. As Vette waited for further confirmation, she kept shifting from one foot to the other, ready to turn and run at the first sign of danger. Or second sign. Maybe someone coming back from the land of Sith ghosts was the first sign.

Vette decided to put that thought on hold as the man raised his head and her spirits rose with it. It was Glailen. Vette's hand shot up and began waving. There was no immediate reaction from Glailen, which only served to make Vette nervous. Maybe Glailen hadn't actually made it back. Uncertainly she began to lower her hand but then Glailen raised his. At first Vette thought he was waving back but then she noticed he held something in his hand. That seemed like a good sign as he had left in the first place in order to find the Ravager. Not exactly what Vette would consider a good time but if Glailen had found it, well, that was probably a good thing. Smiling with relief, Vette awaited her companion's return.

As Glailen got closer, Vette found it harder to hold her smile. He certainly looked like he'd been through it. But he made it out, that was the important thing, and now they could get some serious distance between them and the creepy, haunted Sith temple and if that wasn't the scariest thing, she could think of then she didn't want to test her imagination.

"Mission successful, Boss?" Vette asked once Glailen was only a couple of meters from her. His eyes, which had a far-off look to them, focused on her. For a moment, the blank look he wore had Vette freaked out but his expression gained some life as he took her in.

"You're still here," he said, slight surprise in his tone. Vette grinned.

"Yeah, I'm amazing, I know. Besides, hanging out with you has made my life way more exciting – if a little more unsafe."

"Thank you for waiting and for believing I would come back."

"Don't sweat it," said Vette with a thumbs up. Glailen was about to say more when a loud crack sounded overhead. Thundering heralding the arrival of a sudden and heavy downpour. Grumbling, Vette shook her arms as though she could keep the rain off.

"Figures it couldn't hold off any longer."

"Let's head back to the city. I'm sure we can find a moment to dry off," said Glailen, apparently not too bothered by layer of chill water he was now carrying around.

The haggard Sith didn't spare a glance for the half dozen troopers that had gathered nearby and were watching him nervously. He made it look so easy, ignoring them, while Vette struggled to do the same. Thankfully none of them tried to stop the pair as they made their way through the camp. Whether they were too scared to stop one of the possessed or accuse a Sith of being possessed, it didn't matter. Vette was just glad she didn't have to stand around while Glailen proved he was who he said he was. He didn't have to do that with her – which was a little odd to think about but Vette could just tell he was still himself.

After a short talk with a droid, they had a hovercab ordered and on the way. Waiting for it was a struggle in and of itself though. Vette was aware they were outside the city limits and probably not very high on their priority list even if Glailen was a Sith apprentice, but the hovercab seemed to take forever to arrive and the rain didn't let up the whole time. As a sane individual, Vette took to waiting for their ride by standing underneath a tent awning. For reasons that probably only made sense to a Sith, Glailen opted to wait under the full force of the torrential downpour. Despite being further away, when the hovercab arrived Vette made it inside first with her mad dash. Although it did help that Glailen appeared to be spaced out until Vette slipped past him.

Soaked, freezing and miserable, Vette sat with her knees pulled up against her chest, trying to warm up. She was also trying not to complain. However rough her day had been, she knew Glailen's had been worse and probably didn't want to hear her grumblings. Out of the corner of her eye, Vette watched her Sith companion sitting completely still, staring out the window of the hovercab. It was essentially the same as the last time they were in a cab together but it felt different. Vette absolutely wanted to ask Glailen about what happened at the temple for no other reason than that she was curious by nature but she held her tongue. She was getting the sense that talking was the last thing Glailen wanted to do at that moment. Keeping her questions bottled up was something Vette was capable of, sure, but unfortunately doing so took all of her willpower. That left none to keep herself from fidgeting and she was doing plenty of that. She was a little worried that Glailen would snap at her to sit still but what could she do?

"You don't want to know about it, Vette." The sudden sound in the uncomfortable silence caused Vette to jump in her seat. She hoped Glailen didn't notice as he was still facing away but he probably felt the movement if nothing else. Licking her lips a couple of times, she tried to think of what to say.

"It was an unpleasant experience," continued Glailen in a near whisper. Vette thought about that. Truthfully, she still wanted to know but she could appreciate what Glailen was trying to do.

"Yeah, that's fair. Been a long day," she said with a nod.

"It has."

They spend the rest of the ride without interruption. Much to Vette's dismay, their destination was the Sith Temple. It wasn't a surprise of course but she still didn't like it. They had barely landed before Glailen jumped out and marched purposefully towards the Sith enclave. It was a little annoying for Vette as she had to hurry to keep up but she could agree with getting out of the rain quickly. Their trek through the temple garnered more than a few nasty looks but Vette was fairly certain it was more from the trail of water left in their wake than from her being twi'lek. Once they reached the stairway to Baras' lair, Glailen pauses to look at her.

"Up to you whether you stay up here or come down with me." Vette considered the choice carefully and fully aware that there wasn't a good answer. Reluctantly she chose what she hoped was the lesser of two evils. Although after their last two visits, it was really hard to tell.

"Can't always avoid the bosses boss, I suppose."

With a grunt, Glailen led the way down the stairs. The door opened for Glailen, beckoning them into the chambers beyond. Vette was pretty sure she didn't hesitate before walking through but it did feel like she hung back a little longer than necessary. Not that it mattered, neither of the Sith present seemed concerned about her. The Republic agent definitely didn't pay her any mind. As she stared at the broken man, she thought of everyone who wronged her – really wronged her – in the past but couldn't say any of them deserved what the agent had gone through.

And now it's going to get worse, thought Vette. There was nothing she could do for the man but she found some peace of mind knowing this would also be the end of his suffering.

"Ah, Apprentice," said Baras as he turned from his captive to greet Glailen, "you've returned. I imagine that means you were successful."

"Of course, Master," responded Glailen, holding out the Ravager. The tone of Glailen's caught Vette's attention though. He had always spoken respectfully to his very scary, very powerful, master but now his voice had a rough edge to it. Vette hoped it wouldn't get either of them in trouble. It was her job to stick it to authority figures, not Glailen's.

For the moment, however, Baras seemed not to notice or care. Far more interested, was he, in the Ravager he carefully took from his apprentice. Reverently he turned the ancient artifact over in his hands. A low chuckling laugh drifted out from that metallic mask, a sound that made Vette's skin crawl.

"Excellent," purred Baras.

"If that is all, I'll be making my leave, Master." Glailen began to turn for the door before waiting for leave to be given.

"So quick to leave; no stomach for what comes next?" The challenge in those words was not lost on Vette as she looked between Baras and Glailen. At that moment, she wasn't sure who looked scarier. Sure, she knew Baras was supposed to be the worse of the two but what she saw of Glailen gave her pause. There was something unforgiving in his eyes. With deliberate movement, Glailen looked towards his master.

"It has been a long day," a pause, "Master." Was that hesitation an accident or done on purpose? Vette truly feared the game playing out in front of her. For what seemed a long moment, that expressionless mask worn by Darth Baras stared back at Glailen.

"Oh, very well." As Baras turns away, Vette releases the breath she didn't realize she had been holding in. Feels like I just watched a bomb get defused at the last second.

"I suppose I don't need you for this part. Go, enjoy your rest while you can but don't sleep too soundly; I expect you to be ready when I call."

"Of course, Master." Glailen remembers to bow this time before taking his leave with Vette close at his heels. One of these trips to the Sith Temple was going to give her a heart attack some day.

Getting a hovercab to take them back to their apartment was another unreasonably long wait. This time Vette deigned to wait with Glailen under the rain as reaching the only shelter would have meant standing closer to other Sith. It did mean that by the time the cab arrived Vette was more soaked than she had thought possible. The ride to the apartment was spent in miserable silence, which, if Vette was being honest, wouldn't require a rainy day to achieve in this instance. What has my life become? Vette's thoughts were taking depressing turns as the cab touched down and the pair scrambled out. They received a disapproving look from the woman sitting behind the front desk but, jeez, what were they supposed to do? Must be nice to judge others while sitting warm and cozy inside.

The pair stumbled into their apartment, gratefully shutting the door behind them as though shutting away the world beyond. Feeling disgusting after a long day outside and taking the full force of an ocean on her head, Vette eyed the washroom like a long-time lover. She wanted nothing more than to claim it greedily but she held back because she was capable of being polite.

"Don't know about you but I could use a shower," Vette said as nonchalantly as possible. She looked over at Glailen who was making his way to the far window.

"Do you…?"

"You can go first. I'll wait." Trying not to skip, Vette made her way to the washroom and the glorious shower beyond.

Having a real shower with actual water was a luxury Vette fully intended to enjoy. After all, the way things were for her now, there really was no telling when she would get the chance again. The warm water washed over her and removed all the icky stuff left behind by the rain. It was refreshing and she didn't realize how much she needed it until it was done. Vette wasn't sure how long she spent in the shower but she was reasonably sure it wasn't too long. If not, well, it's not like she could keep an eye on the time.

With a grateful sigh she stepped out of the shower dried off and then realized she forgot to grab some clean clothes. Annoying but not a huge problem. She could change while Glailen was in the shower; finally try on some of the new clothes she bought earlier. Glailen did say she could get herself something and living with one outfit was not appealing.

When she opened the door, it wasn't hard to find Glailen. He was right where she left him, standing in front of the window, staring out at the rain. That would be an unnerving sight to find most people in but Vette wasn't too put-off, reminding herself that Glailen wasn't most people.

"You're up," she says cheerily now that she feels refreshed. There's a noticeable pause before Glailen makes any move. He finally turns away from the window and makes his slow way over to the washroom.

"Thank you."

"I should be thanking the big boss. He may give me the creeps but I can't complain about the place he got you." As soon as the words have left her mouth, Vette wishes she could take them back. Glailen's only response is a grunt as he brushes past her. She waits until the washroom door shuts before deflating with a sigh.

Really need to learn to watch my mouth, thinks Vette as she begins rummaging around for some clean clothes. A shower and fresh clothes did a great deal to improve Vette's mood and while she hoped it would do the same for Glailen, she had her doubts. There's got to be something I can do for the big guy.

Vette looks towards the washroom, the sound of rushing water almost deafening in the quiet apartment. She then takes a long look around in search of ideas. Maybe there is something…

---

Standing under the shower was a lot like standing in the rain. The water was good at drowning out the sound; hiding the whispers. Glailen didn't want to hear the voice that kept telling him to kill every Sith he saw. The voice that demanded he challenge his master. Clearly, the voice didn't have his wellbeing in mind. More than that, it was clear Glailen hadn't come back from the temple alone. But the connection was weak or, at least, it felt weak. A mere whisper in his ear where before he couldn't tell the difference between what were his own thoughts and what weren't. What's more it seemed to grow dimmer the further he got from the temple. Maybe he could get far enough away that he could ignore it as a mild humming. Or maybe it would go away entirely one day. He couldn't do anything about it right now.

When Glailen was convinced he couldn't stay in the shower any longer, he grudgingly got out. How long he was in he wasn't sure but he wanted it to be longer. With reluctance he shut off the water and paused to listen. Nothing. He cocked his head to the side out of habit though he didn't think it would have any effect. Still nothing. Maybe he–

'They're everywhere.'

Sighing, Glailen grabbed a towel to dry off. It would seem he was not free of the voice yet but at least they weren't so talkative as before. The real test would be how well Glailen could sleep with someone whispering in his ear every so often. Now that he was clean from the day's work, sleeping was exactly what he wanted to do next, so it was a good time to find out, Glailen supposed. He just needed to hope that his master wouldn't need his services for awhile. Frowning as he opened the door, Glailen couldn't imagine his luck had taken such a positive turn. Still, he could hope.

As Glailen steps out of the washroom, he stops in mild surprise. A wonderful aroma assails his senses and he's forced to seek out the source. It's not hard to do as he looks towards the kitchen in time to see Vette, caught off guard, placing a couple of plates of food on the dining table. She freezes in midmovement as though she's been found out doing something she wasn't supposed to. Glailen raises a questioning eyebrow and that seems to snap her out of her paralysis. She smiles sheepishly as she finishes placing the food.

"Hey. I made something. To eat, I mean." Glailen looks from Vette to the plates then back at Vette. She gives a nervous laugh.

"But that's obvious. Right."

Vette retreats to the kitchen again, grabbing a couple of glasses and filling them with water. Still feeling uncertain, Glailen approaches the table. He gets a better look at what's been prepared but finds he can't name anything in front of him. Glailen is reasonably sure Vette isn't trying to kill him, however, and doesn't worry about it. That doesn't stop him from feeling apprehensive as he pulls out a chair to sit at the table. Why does he feel this way? The answer hits him as soon as he's properly seated. It was such a quaint setting. How many times had he sat down to eat that weren't in a hall full of Force-sensitives trying to become Sith? Not many. It was just another glimpse at a normal life that had been taking from his years ago.

Suppressing a frustrated growl, Glailen distracted himself by focusing on the food. He leaned close and took a deep breath. His mouth began to flood with anticipation.

"It smells good," he says to Vette as she places a glass before him. The comment appears to be unexpected for her but she quickly smiles her appreciation.

"I know I said I wouldn't be doing anything like this but with today being…what it is, it just felt right."

"Thank you," says Glailen. Vette shrugs as she gets into her seat.

"Don't mention it. That's what friends are for, right?"

"Friends?" Glailen says the word uncertainly, testing it as though it were part of the unfamiliar meal laid out on the table. For just an instant it looks like Vette is about to panic but it's quickly swept away by a bright smile.

"Yeah, I mean, we're friends, aren't we?" Glailen looks at Vette, with her expectant expression, and finds a smile creep over his lips.

"Yes. We're friends." If Vette appears overly relieved by Glailen's response, he chooses not to notice. She beckons at the plate in front of him.

"Go ahead, dig in, but don't get used to this."

"I'll try not to."

Eagerly, Glailen takes his first bite. He has to pause and ask himself when he last tasted something so good. That one was too hard to answer and there were far more important things to be doing at that moment. Glailen lifted the second bite to his lips – the sound of his holocommunicator stopped him short. With a sinking feeling in his stomach, Glailen rose from the table and stepped away before answering the call.

"Master."

"Apprentice, things are worse than I feared. You must leave at once." The worry in Baras' tone is enough to push away the bitterness gathering in Glailen's mind.

"Where am I to go now, Master?"

"Balmorra." Glailen frowns a moment before remembering where he knew the name.

"That's a planet."

"Very astute. Go to the Kaas Spaceport and find hanger fifteen. The ship in there, a Fury class Interceptor, is one of mine and I'm giving it to you. Take it to Balmorra with all speed." Glailen struggles to process what he's hearing.

"I have no experience flying, Master," he blurts out.

"Then learn as you go or crash," Baras snaps and Glailen feels his face heat. The irate Darth continues before Glailen can consider apologizing.

"Until you decide which option suits you best, the auto-pilot will be sufficient to get you where you need to be. I'll explain more once you've taken off. Now go."

"Yes, Master," Glailen says but the connection cuts off before he can finish. Turning back to the table, Glailen meets Vette's gaze. She looks uncertainly from him to the food she prepared.

"So much for dinner," she mutters. Glailen feels a stab of guilt. Whether he's actually at fault is irrelevant.

"I'm sorry, Vette. It really was good."

The pair gather the few things they would take with them but as Glailen is heading for the door he stops because Vette's hesitating to throw away their dinner. She turns a determined glare his way.

"You know what, no," she declares and quickly looks through the cupboards of the kitchen. After a few moments she finds what she's looking for, a couple of little containers, and begins stuffing their dinners inside. When she's done, she gives Glailen a triumphant look.

"It'll be messy but we're finishing this food. No way am I throwing it away after putting it together just because that self-important ass is getting twitchy."

"All the more reason to hurry to this ship then," Glailen happily replies.

"You said it," Vette readily agrees. Then her eyes get big.

"Wow, a whole ship…"

Glailen can't help but chuckle as he shuts the lights off and closes the door behind them.