The journey to the holding pens took the Jedi beyond the city's boundaries, where the landscape of Utapau revealed more of its hidden wonders. The Pau'an minister led them to a speeder station at the edge of the capital, a bustling hub where sleek, high-speed vehicles were prepared for long journeys across the planet's varied terrain.
The group boarded a transport vehicle designed for swift travel across the plains. The speeder's engines hummed to life, and within moments, they were gliding effortlessly over the ground. The wind whipped through their robes as the vehicle accelerated, leaving the towering bone structures of the city behind.
As the speeder raced across the plains, the landscape began to change, transitioning from the dry, sparsely vegetated earth to a more rugged, rocky terrain. Jagged outcroppings of stone jutted up from the ground like the bones of some ancient creature, their surfaces worn smooth by centuries of relentless wind. The horizon stretched endlessly ahead, a vast expanse of earth and sky that seemed to go on forever.
Kira and Aerin sat side by side, their eyes wide as they took in the alien beauty of the landscape. The ground beneath them was a tapestry of reddish-brown soil and patches of hardy vegetation, but as they traveled further from the city, the terrain grew more desolate, the signs of life becoming increasingly scarce.
The minister, seated at the front of the speeder, glanced back at the Jedi. "Utapau is a world of contrasts," he explained, his voice carrying easily over the wind. "The surface is harsh and unforgiving, but beneath it lies a world full of wonders—and dangers."
As they crested a rise, the landscape suddenly dropped away, and the Jedi found themselves staring out at what appeared to be a vast, shimmering ocean in the distance. The horizon rippled with the illusion of water, the air above it shimmering with heat. But as they drew closer, it became clear that this was no ocean.
The ground opened up before them into an enormous sinkhole, easily kilometers across. The steep, jagged walls of the sinkhole plunged downward, disappearing into darkness. The edges of the chasm were lined with ledges where hardy plants clung to life, and as the speeder approached the edge, the scale of the sinkhole became breathtakingly clear.
"By the Force," Kira whispered, her eyes wide with awe. "It's massive. How far down does this hole go?"
The Pau'an driver, a tall and gaunt figure with deep-set eyes, turned slightly to respond, his voice tinged with an understated sense of pride. "This is one of the deepest sinkholes on Utapau. Our geologists have yet to find the bottom. It is said that it might go all the way to the planet's core."
Aerin leaned forward slightly, peering over the edge as the speeder reached the brink of the chasm. The vehicle's thrusters adjusted automatically, lifting it slightly as it prepared to cross the expanse. The driver grinned, his long fingers deftly adjusting the controls. "Arms inside, please," he added with a wry smile. "You wouldn't want to lose anything to the void."
As the speeder surged forward, it glided effortlessly over the edge, the ground falling away beneath them. For a moment, the vehicle seemed to hang suspended over the abyss, the darkness below stretching infinitely downward. The wind rushed past, carrying with it the faint scent of minerals and earth, as if the very breath of the planet was exhaled from the depths of the sinkhole.
The speeder's engines roared as the driver accelerated, sending them soaring across the vast chasm. Below them, they could see the walls of the sinkhole lined with plants and the occasional small animal darting between crevices. Far below, the glimmer of water could be seen, a distant, faint reflection of the sky above. The light of the midday sun filtered down into the depths, illuminating the algae that clung to the rock walls, casting a soft, otherworldly glow that danced on the water's surface.
The sense of scale was overwhelming; the sinkhole was a world unto itself, a hidden ecosystem that thrived far from the harsh surface above. The deeper they peered, the more they could see—strange, luminescent plants clinging to the walls, and small, agile creatures flitting in and out of view. It was as if they were flying over an entire world encapsulated within the chasm.
Kira could hardly tear her eyes away from the sight, the sheer depth of the sinkhole making her feel both insignificant and awed. "I've never seen anything like this," she murmured, her voice almost reverent. "It's like a hidden world."
The driver nodded, his eyes fixed on the path ahead. "Many of our sinkholes are like this, each one with its own ecosystem. Life finds a way, even in the deepest, darkest places. But beware—these places can be treacherous."
The speeder continued its journey across the chasm, the wind roaring past as they soared over the abyss. On the other side, the landscape began to rise again, the ground gradually returning to the more familiar plains they had seen earlier.
As they approached the holding pens, a cluster of structures came into view, surrounded by high walls made from the same polished bones that defined the city's architecture. The walls were patrolled by Utapaun warriors, their tall, gaunt figures clad in dark, ceremonial armor that blended seamlessly with the bleak surroundings. Their long staffs, tipped with deadly-looking blades, gleamed in the midday sun as they moved with a quiet, watchful precision.
The speeder slowed as it approached the entrance, and the driver brought the vehicle to a smooth stop just outside the gates. The journey had been both exhilarating and humbling, a reminder of the beauty and danger that coexisted on this enigmatic world.
Ithar, Kira, and Aerin disembarked, their minds still lingering on the sight of the sinkhole and the hidden world within it. The minister gestured toward the entrance, his expression serious. "This is where the problem lies. The animals here are suffering from a strange affliction. We will need your help to determine what is causing it."
As they passed through the gates and into the holding pens, the gravity of the situation settled over them. The mysteries of Utapau were deep and ancient, but the Jedi were here to uncover the truth, no matter where it led them.
The speeder slowed to a halt at the entrance, where the warriors regarded the Jedi with somber expressions. One of them, distinguished by a crest of bone woven into his helmet, stepped forward and bowed slightly to the minister.
"Minister," he said, his voice deep and resonant. "The situation within the pens has worsened. The animals... they are suffering greatly."
The minister nodded gravely. "Thank you, Captain. We have brought the Jedi to investigate. They will need access to the pens and the affected creatures."
The captain's dark eyes flicked to the Jedi, and he gave a curt nod before turning and leading them through the entrance. Inside, the pens were spacious but barren, designed to hold the large beasts native to Utapau. The ground was covered in a layer of dust, and the air was heavy with the smell of animal sweat and something darker—an underlying scent of decay that made Kira's stomach twist uncomfortably.
As they walked deeper into the enclosure, the sound of low, pained growls and laboured breathing filled the air. The Jedi soon found themselves standing before a large pen where several Varactyls were kept. The creatures, once majestic and full of life, now appeared sickly and weakened, their once-vibrant crests drooping and their powerful legs trembling under the weight of their own bodies.
Master Ithar approached the nearest Varactyl, his expression a mix of concern and sadness. The creature was lying on its side, its scales and feathers dull and lifeless, a stark contrast to the bright blue and green hues it should have possessed. Its beak, full of rotten jagged patterns, prohibiting its movement. Its, intelligent eyes, once sharp and alert, were now clouded over with a thick, milky film. Dark spots, like bruises, marred the surface of its eyes, spreading outward from the center in jagged patterns that seemed to pulse with an eerie energy.
"It's worse than I feared," Ithar murmured, reaching out with the Force to gently feel the creature's mind. The Varactyl flinched at his touch, a low, mournful sound escaping its throat. There was something deeply wrong here, something beyond physical illness. The dark spots weren't just a symptom—they were a manifestation of a creeping corruption that had taken hold within the creature.
Sicha knelt beside the Varactyl, her hand hovering just above its scales as she attuned herself to the Force. "I can feel it too," she said, her voice filled with unease. "This isn't a natural sickness. This dark corruption has seeped into these creatures, poisoning their minds and bodies. It's as if they're being consumed from the inside out."
Kira stood a few steps back, her eyes fixed on the Varactyl's glazed-over stare. The voice in her mind had grown quieter, but it was still there, a persistent whisper in the background. "Closer..." She could sense the creature's pain, its confusion, and the overwhelming fear that had taken root in its simple, loyal soul. The Force here was twisted, distorted by whatever dark presence had invaded this place, and the Varactyls were suffering the consequences.
Aerin moved closer to the creature's head, examining the dark spots more closely. "The blindness has progressed rapidly," she observed. "These spots—they're not just blocking the light. They're spreading, as if the darkness itself is alive, feeding on the Varactyl's life force."
The captain, who had been observing silently, stepped forward. "The Varactyls began showing signs of distress a few weeks ago. At first, it was just the older ones, but now even the younger, stronger animals are being affected. We've tried everything—herbs, healers, even meditative chants—but nothing has helped. They continue to worsen, and we fear they will all be lost soon."
Master Ithar frowned deeply, his mind racing. "This is no ordinary ailment. We need to find the source of this corruption, whatever is causing it, before it spreads further."
The minister, who had been standing quietly beside the captain, finally spoke. "There is a place—where the ground is riddled with bones. It has always been a place of death, avoided by our people, but recently... there have been rumors. Whispers of dark rituals, strange lights, and shadows that move on their own. We thought it was just old legends resurfacing, but now..."
He trailed off, his eyes dark with worry.
Master Ithar turned to the minister, his voice resolute. "We will investigate this place. If a corruption is spreading here, we must confront it before it consumes more than just these creatures."
Kira could feel the pull of the voice in her mind, growing stronger with each mention of this place. "Closer..." She knew, somehow, that this was where they needed to go, where the answers lay waiting in the darkness.
"Minister," Ithar continued, "prepare a guide to take us to this place. We must act quickly."
The minister nodded. "I will make the arrangements. But be careful, Jedi. The darkness in that place... it is old, and it is powerful."
As they turned to leave the holding pens, the Varactyl let out a weak, mournful cry, a sound that echoed in the hearts of all who heard it. It was a cry of pain, of fear, and of something else—something that sent a shiver down Kira's spine.
It was a cry for help.
Master Ithar's expression was tight as they left the holding pens, the mournful cries of the Varactyls still echoing in his mind. The air was thick with the tension of unspoken thoughts as the group made their way back to the speeder. Kira noticed the way Ithar's shoulders were set, a stiffness that hadn't been there before. He was clearly disturbed by what they had seen, but there was something else—something deeper, more troubling.
As they boarded the speeder, the minister instructed the driver to take them back to the city. The group sat in silence for a few moments, the landscape rushing past them in a blur of muted colors. The dark spots in the Varactyl's eyes, the eerie whispers in the air, and the twisted Force energy clung to Kira's thoughts, refusing to let go. But when she looked at Ithar, she saw a different kind of struggle.
Finally, it was Sicha who broke the silence. "Master Ithar," she began cautiously, "there's no denying that what we saw back there is the work of the dark side. The corruption is too strong, too pervasive. It feels like something more powerful than just a cult or a stray dark side user."
Ithar shook his head, his jaw tightening. "I understand your concern, Sicha, but we must be realistic. The Sith Empire is long gone, its remnants scattered and weak. We haven't encountered a true Sith in over two centuries. Whatever we're dealing with here, it's not the work of a Sith Lord only mere echoes"
"But the signs are there," Sicha insisted. "The corruption, the darkness—it feels organized, deliberate. We can't dismiss the possibility that—"
"The Sith are finished," Ithar interrupted, his voice firm. "Their order is nothing more than a shadow of what it once was. Yes, there are dark side cults that still linger in the galaxy, remnants of those who once followed the Sith teachings, but they lack the power and cohesion to manifest something like this."
Kira exchanged a glance with Aerin, who looked equally troubled. "But Master," Kira ventured, "what if this is more than just a cult? The corruption we saw—it's not just affecting the animals; it's warping the very Force itself. We must consider the possibility that—"
"No," Ithar said, more forcefully this time. "We've all heard the rumors and seen the effects of this corruption, but we must not jump to conclusions. Fear leads to speculation, and speculation leads to error. The Sith have been eradicated. Whatever this is, it's not the work of a Sith Lord."
A tense silence settled over the speeder as it continued to race across the plains. Ithar's denial hung in the air like a thick cloud, stifling any further discussion on the matter. Kira could feel the unease building in her chest, the nagging voice in her mind growing louder with each passing moment."Closer..."
Aerin shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "Master Ithar," she said quietly, "whether or not a Sith is involved, we can't ignore the signs. The dark side is here, and it's strong. We need to approach this situation with caution, regardless of its source."
Ithar sighed. He knew they were right to be concerned, but the idea of a Sith presence was something he couldn't—or wouldn't—accept. The galaxy had fought too long and hard to be free of the Sith's influence, and he couldn't bear the thought that such evil could have returned, especially not on his watch.
"We will investigate," he said finally, his tone softer but no less resolute. "But we do so with the understanding that we are facing a force of nature, not a Sith Lord. The dark side has many forms, and not all of them are tied to the Sith. We must remain focused and not let our fears cloud our judgment."
Kira nodded, though the sense of unease remained. The voice in her mind was almost insistent now, urging her toward something unknown, something dark and hidden.
The speeder slowed to a halt, and the group disembarked, the towering bone structures of the city looming once again around them. The minister led them back toward the ministry, where they would make final preparations before heading out.
As they walked, Kira couldn't shake the feeling that they were being drawn into something far greater—and far darker—than they had anticipated. The Force was guiding them, but to what end? And why was she the only one who seemed to hear the voice calling her closer to the truth?