The ropes tightened as the winch lowered the platform. The only sound that could rise above the din of wind was that of rattling metal and straining hempen rope. Ruin stood in the middle of the platform, his arms crossed across his chest to keep his robe close for warmth. The cadets that flanked him were too busy lowering the platform down to pester him. It was better that way. Their questions always erred on the side of insipid rather than erudite.
As they drew closer to the bottom of the pit, the shrieking wind died out, giving way to the clangor of machinery. The clattering of vibroshovels and rumbling of hand-drawn excavators were grating on the ears, but a welcome break from the ceaseless gale. Gouts of snow flew up in the air alongside great chunks of ice as the tools chewed through the frozen earth.
The excavation team had worked at a breakneck pace since their arrival. A majority of the detritus had been removed, revealing exquisite grey stonework forming the shape of a ziggurat. It was similar to the towering pyramids Ruin saw during his trip to Yavin IV, to meet with Hopel's clan, though this one was a stunted thing that rose only a scant few feet over Ruin's head. Its top had been dulled to a rounded bubble by years of weathering and exposure. Those on Yavin had converged into pointed spires that threatened to pierce the sky.
A weathered blue banner wrapped the length of the ziggurat. From his vantage, Ruin saw a series of symbols embroidered within. The signatures of the ancient Sith. Most were alchemical runes, the same ones he recalled from an ancient scroll he and Lady Cinder had recovered on Dxun. If only you were here for this, Lysara.
The ropes groaned, stretching taut as the platform dropped into the snow, scattering it everywhere. Ruin stepped off and began to examine the excavation site and it workers. He had no dedicated retinue of archaeologists; these were all soldiers. What they lacked in formal training, they made up for in raw efficiency. The excavation effort was projected to have taken a standard month at bare minimum. The soldiers had freed the ziggurat from its snowy grave in less than three standard weeks.
He found Eradicus eyeing the sequence of runes. The squire fell in beside him as he passed.
"As you can see, milord," Eradicus said. The misshapen plates of his dark armor made him rattle with each and every step, adding to the cacophony of the machines. "The excavation is far beyond schedule."
Ruin kept his eyes forward. "The fool typically says something of wit, instead of restating what the rest of us can already see."
Eradicus paid the slight no mind. "The door is just ahead. We've found no way to open it."
"Leave that to me."
Ruin increased his pace, leaving his squire well behind. A squat stone door stood before him once he rounded the ziggurat's edge. Four distinct carvings sat in each of its sharp corners. A single round indentation sat in the center, just large enough for a fist. One look at each of the sigils was enough to tell Ruin what they were: warding seals, designed in the device of each member of Ajunta Pall's ancient cadre.
Pay them no mind, Lord Ruin. He winced and heard the grinding of stone as the door slid down. The workers started putting up a commotion, hollering and pointing at the now open door. Ruin paid them no mind and stooped down to enter the shadowy hole.
Ruin found himself in a web of inky black. He stuck out a hand and felt his fingers graze a stone wall. Then, suddenly, he felt his legs tumble and fell upon his knees.
"Finally..."
It was Cronos' voice, but this time it was low, hoarse, and weak. It came from the far side of the room, opposite where Ruin found himself kneeling. Then he lurched forward, dragged across the floor on his knees. A pair of sconces burst into green fire as he passed them by. As suddenly as the painful endeavor started, it came to a screeching halt. The sound of a falling chain whipped through his ears and then followed the clinks of a series of opening metal braces.
Ruin looked up and recoiled at the withered husk that stood over him. Husk is more charitable than this one deserves, in truth. He was more robe than man and more hair than face. Strings of white hair clung stubbornly to his spotted scalp. His eyes were shrunken whites hiding in gaping abscesses of black. Great blue veins ran varicose across his skin, which clung so tight to his skeleton that any forceful movement was like to shear it like parchment. His skin was of such an alabaster sheen it was almost blinding amidst the darkness of the tomb. His robes had probably once been black as pitch; now, they were the tepid grey of ancient ash. He stretched out a hand of gnarled fingers tipped with brittle browned nails, curled them in, and brought Ruin to his feet.
"You come at last," Cronos said. He wheezed terribly between every word, opening and closing his mouth as if to suck in air.
Ruin did not know what to think. This was the man who had brought him here. He had been the one to lead him astray from the safety of Korriban, the one to lead him on this string of missteps, the one who promised him great knowledge and great power. And yet, this thing was more bone than man, to the point Ruin believed that one small push would break him apart where he stood.
"You must forgive me, Dark Lord. My projection belies my true state. How fortuitous that it soon will change."
"How does a withered husk wield such power?" Ruin traced him up and down. His blood boiled so hot he could feel it turning to steam. This is a ruse. A sick joke at my expense.
"The Dark Side is a path to the abhorrent," Cronos chuckled before puffing for air. "Nine-and-fifty standard years of study and such knowledge catches you unawares?"
"I know plenty." Ruin grimaced. "The Sith Lords of old were less than man. One held his broken body together through contempt alone; the other was nothing more than a pit of living darkness." The darkness in which all life could have died. "The countless other warlords, deformed and disfigured, that raided Republic space for the better part of two thousand years."He paused for a moment and stared into Cronos' blackened eye sockets. Has this one, too, moved past the need for eyes? "The question then becomes: Are you truly the Force's master, or merely its slave like these former lord pretenders?"
"That is why they feared me, Phanius." The withered remnants of Cronos' lips convulsed in some facsimile of a smile.
"That man is long dead." Ruin scowled. Cronos began to walk past him and stared out into the white field outside the door.
"That man stands before me," Cronos said. He crossed his arms together, his massive sleeves joining as one, and turned back to Ruin. "You forget yourself. I have scraped your mind down to its basest flesh. I have drank of your thoughts to the last of their ichors."
"Successor?" This is a game to him. "I thought we were to rule together?"
Cronos looked at him. He forced a hideous smile again, and his cheekbones stretched his skin so far Ruin thought it would surely tear. He bore rows of cracked and rotted teeth alongside countless holes where others had once been. "I did say together. That has not changed. You, Darth Cinder, and myself shall become the triumvirs of a new dynasty of Sith." He unfolded his arms and his bony hands crept from the gaping maws of his sleeves. "Only, there is a complication."
Ruin repeated the last word back to him before he felt the lightning shoot through his body. It was like being set on fire from within. He felt each blood vessel burst, felt sparks riding on great waves through his lymph. He fell to one knee and howled, his body convulsing.
"There is a boy." Cronos exhaled sharply and ceased his torrent. "New blood."
Ruin panted. His nose was assaulted by the scent of smoke and burning flesh. He tried over and over again to find words, but none came.
"The boy is hers," Cronos continued. "I believe she has no intention of letting him go."
Ruin swallowed. "What are you saying?"
"What I say is that something has got to give. An old man you may be, but nonetheless you have proven useful. These two..." He paused and crept a spindly finger up to his great cliff of a chin. "I know neither. Unknowns are threats to rule, as you know most well."
"I assure you that the Lady Cinder is most loyal," Ruin said. He had given her no reason to turn against him. "The boy is certainly a new development. I can see him dealt with if need be."
"No need."
Cronos approached Ruin and looked down at him. His wayward strands of hair clumped and clung to the bones of his face. For the first time in his life, Ruin found himself afraid.
"You act as if I would kill you, Phanius," Cronos said with a raspy chuckle. "As I said, you have your uses. Though, I need something from you."
Ruin saw Cronos' eyes close and the fingers on his right hand curl up. For a moment, everything was tranquil and serene. There was no more fear, no more pain. Even the wind outside seemed to cease its foreboding howl, and the torches inside put an end to their maddening crackle. Ruin sighed in relief, then closed his own eyes. He woke again shortly, his breathing heavy and slow. His eyes dragged themselves open like stubborn shutters.
There was a man that stood before him now. No, not a withered husk, a man, with clean skin, a great mane of white hair, and great green pools of eyes. On his forehead was a slit. It was seeping blood in tiny strands that trickled down to the bridge of his nose. He filled his robes adequately instead of being lost in a sea of grey. This was the real Cronos, free at last.
"Rise, Darth Ruin." His voice was no longer hoarse and haggard. It was now deep and throaty, like swords dragged across stone. It echoed throughout the chamber, reverberating against Ruin's ears over and over again.
He did as he was told, getting to his feet and bowing on one knee. It was a chore to pull himself up, as if his arms had been turned to jelly. He bowed his head and closed his eyes.
"I have great plans for us, Lord Ruin," Cronos said. "Thanks to you, I live again. My being, however, must remain bound to this place for a time, as to muster my strength." He breathed in deep. "I will remain here until your apprentice comes to Rhen Var. Then, the three of us shall convene.
"I must confess, Dark Lord. I have tried this many a time, and you are the first to succeed." Cronos slipped a wry smile. "We will bring the darkness up from its nadir, and once again this galaxy shall know fear."
Ruin kept his head bowed. "What do you command, my lord?"
"Return to your keep." Cronos beckoned him towards the door. "She will come, and she will come with the boy. See that she is convinced to join our cause, lest they both be destroyed."
"What will we do about the boy?" Ruin said. For Cinder to have taken an apprentice was all but a declaration of her betrayal. She meant to replace him, at long last.
"I must consider." When Cronos closed his eyes, the bloody one on his forehead stayed wide open. "For now, do as you see fit. Continue your parleys and negotiations, conduct your research. I only ask you stay put in your tower."
Ruin began to walk his way out. He caught himself and stopped. "Lord Cronos, will you tell me more of the Hundred Year Darkness?"
The old man narrowed his eyes in contempt. "It is the past; let it crumble to dust. Look toward the future, for that shall be our age."
Ruin sighed and bowed his head. He found his way to the door. When he pulled himself out of the ziggurat, Eradicus was already before him with his mouth agape.
"Come to your senses, fool," Ruin said, reaching out to slap him with his right hand. When it made only a weak, wet thunk against the boy's cheek, Ruin winced and looked at the limb. It was nothing more than a withered limb, cracked and blackened the color of soot. Three of his fingers fell off at the knuckle as he brought them away from Eradicus' face.
Ruin stayed silent. He reached down to his belt and felt his good hand find the freezing chrome of his lightsaber. He closed his eyes as his thumb found the activator switch. For a moment, there was only the droning hum of his blade against the wind. The machines had stopped; he felt their operators' eyes all upon him. Then, a thump and the spray of powdery snow.He threw his eyes open and bid Eradicus come.