Nox tapped his gloved fingers on the arm of his throne as he listened to the debate going on within the chambers of the Dark Council. The sudden and unexpected death of Darth Aruk had left considerable room for events to pan out to Nox's benefit, but it seemed like not everyone on the Council was easily given to common sense.

"Darth Salis would be the obvious choice." Marr declared, as if there were no room for argument. "Her unique talents are so rare as to appear only once every ten generations, and they make her perfectly suited for the role of donning Aruk's mantle."

"Natural talent is second to experience Marr." Rictus argued. "Or have you so quickly forgotten what happened the last time we allowed talent to come before wisdom?"

"Zhorrid was neither talented nor experienced." Marr shot back, "and Darth Salis is not so inexperienced as you would have us believe. She served the Emperor's Wrath for years before her appointment under Aruk."

"He makes a good point." Vowrawn spoke up. "That sort of experience is bound to have given her knowledge and wisdom beyond her years. The Emperor himself chose his Wrath, and the Wrath chose Salis. As such she has our Lord and Master's endorsement, all things considered."

"Ridiculous!" Ravage scoffed. "Darth Gravuk is far better suited to the position. Only he has the loyalty to the Empire's founding principles that are expected of the Councillor of the Sphere of Sith Philosophy. Salis is barely a child, just like Zhorrid. To expect her to keep the minds of Imperial citizens from going astray is like expecting a nerf to herd other nerfs!"

"You underestimate her Ravage." Nox replied, as coolly and calmly as he could. "And you would be hard-pressed to find anyone who has done so in the past and survived."

"What are you implying?" Ravage snarled.

"That to underestimate both Salis's loyalty to the Empire and the value of her abilities would be a grievous mistake, nothing more." Nox said, hoping his explanation would cover his blunder. "Her record speaks for itself. Meanwhile, Darth Gravuk has proven little else besides his personal combat abilities, his narrow-minded arrogance and pride, and that he cares about no higher ideal than himself and his own image."

"I think you go too far, Darth Nox." Mortis interjected. "Darth Gravuk has repeatedly demonstrated through his long and illustrious career that he is as dedicated to Sith ideals as the Emperor. He embraces the root of all Sith philosophy: That the strong rule supreme."

"I think what Nox was trying to point out," Marr replied, "Is that Gravuk's apparent suitability for the position is merely the side effect of his own self-interest and hunger for power. I would remind this council that both of these characteristics were traits of the Malgus the Betrayer. Can we really afford to put a second Betrayer on this council?"

"Malgus was motivated by short-sighted ideas of reform that were themselves rooted in the foolishness of Republic ideals." Mortis replied calmly. "And you are beginning to sound like one of them, Marr. Self-interest is as much a part of the Sith philosophy as the desire for power, or have you forgotten?"

"I merely grow tired of pointless infighting among us while our true enemy still breathes." Marr growled, seeming to no longer care if they saw his anger, which even now filled the room like a rush of cold air from a frigid blizzard outside. "There will be time enough for bickering over territory and claims when the Republic lies in ruins and the Jedi are no more. But while we grapple for each other's throats our mutual foes gain strength!"

"But infighting is the Sith way, is it not?" Darth Acina, who had been quiet for the entire meeting, spoke up. Everyone turned their attention to her, including Nox. Out of all the Council members, she was the one he had least expected to side with the likes of Rictus, Mortis, and Ravage. "It is how the Sith weed out weakness and ensure that only the strongest bear the mantle of leadership." She turned to look in Marr's direction.

"Despite Malgus's rebellion, the Empire is stronger than ever. Plan Omega went off without a hitch, putting us back in the driver's seat of this war, and the mining of Isotope 5 from Makeb continues unbeknownst to the Republic, giving us a clear edge over them on the battlefield. All of these happened because the unworthy leaders were overthrown by what was clearly infighting and replaced by more worthy ones, don't you agree?"

"To overlook talent like this-" Marr started to say.

"Overlook how?" Acina challenged him, and Nox was surprised to see fire in her normally cool and detached eyes. "Darth Salis certainly isn't going anywhere, she will simply remain in her current position for a few years or decades, gaining more experience, until she is ready to take on mantle. Gravuk is clearly the better immediate choice. And if Darth Salis is as good as you say, surely she will overtake him and surpass him in time?"

Nox looked around the room and was disappointed to see Vowrawn nodding in agreement. Sadly, he couldn't disagree with Acina's point without calling attention and suspicion to himself and his own loyalties. She had a point. Darth Gravuk, despite being essentially Aruk 2.0, had more experience in leadership positions. Not to mention he was a Pureblood, which no doubt made him a shoo-in the minds of too many of the others. He couldn't contest the nomination without jeopardizing his own position, and as much as having Salis replace Aruk would benefit him, Gravuk wouldn't be a realistic threat to him for months at least while he reorganized his power base, at which point Nox could have contingencies in place. The only winning move here was to cash in before the drop and get ahead of the wave.

"Acina is right." He admitted. "Gravuk is the better immediate choice, Salis will make a fine Councilor once she has the experience, but until then Gravuk will serve just fine." He detected a mix of genuine surprise and triumph from Ravage and Rictus that made him ill, and Marr's resigned body language didn't help.

"Very well." Marr conceeded. "Summon Darth Gravuk."

Darth Gravuk, dressed in his usual exhibitionist armor, marched proudly, almost haughtily, into the center of the Dark Council chambers. He eschewed the formal practice of kneeling in their presence, preferring instead to stand, so arrogantly confident in his superiority. It irked Nox deeply, but he held his tongue. His enemies would get their justice in the fullness of time, including this slekaresh slime.

“Darth Gravuk,” Darth Marr said, his voice booming throughout the chamber. “By the unanimous decree of the Dark Council, I welcome you among our number as the new Councilor of the Sphere of Sith Philosophy.” Marr gestured to Darth Aruk’s former seat, now empty. “You may take your place, Darth Gravuk.”

Nox couldn’t help but smile. Gravuk had shown disrespect to the Dark Council by refusing to kneel in a symbolic act of abasement, meant to be the last one in his career, when accepting the role of Dark Councilor, so Marr’s pronouncement had been equally blasé and indifferent. While he may have to accept this thorn in his side for now, he didn’t have to like it.

“Is Lord Sekkis present, Darth Gravuk?” asked Darth Ravage.

“Yes, she waits outside these very chambers.” Gravuk replied.

“Then bring her in as well.” Mortis commanded. Moments later, Gravuk’s wife, a lithe and predatory-looking Pureblood female, entered the chamber. Unlike her husband, she gracefully sank to one knee and bowed her head momentarily in respect. “My lords.” She cooed.

“Lord Sekkis,” Darth Marr spoke, only iron in his voice, “in light of your years of exemplary service to the Empire, and your proven ability, I hereby pronounce you; Darth Sekkis. Rise.”

Sekkis did so, her grace and poise emanating haughty pride. “Go.” Marr commanded. “And continue your work in the Emperor’s name.” She bowed before turning to leave the chambers through the large double doors. As she did so, her gaze fell upon Nox and he detected the hint of a sneer cross her face. Behind the alien visage of his helm, Nox’s own face twisted in anger, and he promised himself that she too would pay, as her husband would, for her insolence.

___________

As the members of the Dark Council rose from their seats and began filing out of the chamber, Nox heard Darth Vowrawn call him, and he turned to see the ancient Pureblood beckoning him over for a private conversation. Nox approached, and Vowrawn greeted him warmly.

“It is good to see you, colleague.” He said, the hint of a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. “It saddened me to find myself unable to contact you of late.”

“My apologies,” Nox said insincerely, “I’ve been busy.”

“No rest for the wicked hmm?” Vowrawn joked.

“What is it you want Vowrawn?” Nox pressed, eager to return to his office and get back to work.

“I wanted to discuss the recent underworld movements,” Vowrawn said, concern in his voice, “specifically the rise of the clandestine brotherhood of assassins known as The Reapers. Perhaps you’ve heard of them?”

“Whispers and rumors,” Nox said. “but nothing more. Is Rictus involved?”

“I don’t know.” Vowrawn confessed, “Honestly I don’t believe he is, especially considering many of their recent victims.”

“You mean Aruk?” Nox asked.

“Yes.”

“You have evidence that was the work of this “Reaper” cult?” Nox pressed.

“A hunch.” Vowrawn amended, his eyes glittering with amusement.

“It could have been any number of factions or groups.” Nox pointed out. “Aruk was not well-liked even among his own subordinates.”

“You suspect Gravuk?” Vowrawn inquired.

“It’s not really his style,” Nox admitted, “but perhaps he is counting on that.”

“Indeed.” Vowrawn said in a conspiratorial tone, “Or perhaps the true culprit is counting on that as well.” Nox shrugged.

“Possibly.” He admitted.

“What I find most interesting about this cult is its leader.” Vowrawn continued, pressing the issue. “Instead of a prophet or herald of some sort, they are lead by an individual claiming to be a legitimate deity.” Nox snorted.

“Don’t tell me believe every rumor that enters your ears.” He said, adopting a tone of light-hearted scolding. “Everyone knows The Reaper is just ancient myth. If there is an actual leader of this death cult, it’s just an imposter or fraud.” Vowrawn was watching Nox intently now, enough to make him slightly uncomfortable.

“Nonetheless,” Vowrawn said, with all seriousness, “they certainly believe The Reaper to be real, and that makes this game their playing dangerous, don’t you agree?”

“Vowrawn,” Nox replied, “every game worth playing is dangerous.”

___________

Jaesa entered the former chambers of Darth Aruk, now the office of Darth Gravuk, the newest member of the Dark Council and, she reflected bitterly, her new boss. She had been hoping that the Dark Council would notice her talent and how obviously suited she was to the role, but apparently they were all fools who had decided that this lumbering, narcissistic oaf deserved to rule. No matter, she would simply have to ensure that next time there was no-one else left who could take on the position. And there would be a next time very soon, she would see to it.

Darth Gravuk was standing with his back facing her, dressed in his usual exhibitionist armor that completely exposed his extremely muscular torso. His wife, Darth Sekkis, sat cross-legged on his desk, watching Jaesa with an arrogant and bemused expression as she entered the room.

Jaesa dropped to one knee, hating herself for having to show any kind of submission to such an unworthy being, but bound by tradition to do so. “What is your will my lord?” She asked, struggling to keep her utter loathing out of her voice.

“Darth Salis.” Gravuk said, turning to face her. “I have an assignment for you. I expect you will enjoy it.”

“What would you have of me, lord?” Jaesa repeated, again making a supreme effort to keep her contempt and hatred disguised behind a veil of expectation.

“There is a violent cult of heretics who have turned from the Emperor’s grace and embraced a false god.” Gravuk continued, almost as if she hadn’t spoken. “They must be found, uprooted, and destroyed, and their members and allies hunted down and exterminated. With your unique talents and loyalty to the cause, you are uniquely equipped to handle this undertaking.” He turned back to whatever he had been doing when she came in. “Report back to me once you have accomplished this. Dismissed.”

He dared dismiss her so casually? She felt her rage well up, and her vision went red around the edges. She clenched her fist so tight that if she wasn’t wearing gloves she might have cut her own palms. She was about to lose control when she saw Sekkis watching her with a glimmer of anticipation in her wicked eyes, as if she was just waiting for Jaesa to try something.

With willpower she didn’t know she had, Jaesa rose to her feet and walked out of the office, the door hissing shut behind her. She was now even more resolved than she had been before, that fool would pay for every slight against her. He would pay tenfold.

___________

Nox drew his cloak tighter around himself to hide the thick armor beneath as he navigated through the crowds filling the streets of Nar Shadda. His lightsaber was concealed beneath the garment as well, but still on his hip, ready to be drawn at a moment’s notice. His eyes scanned the throng for his target, lingering on a female Twi’lek in pleasure slave garments until a vibration in the Force brought his attention to a young human woman threading her own path through the mass of beings. It was her.

Drawing himself deeper into the Force, he followed her at a safe distance, using her Force presence to track her even when he lost sight of her. She went through several back alleys, forcing Nox to make full use of his Force cloaking abilities to avoid detection. Eventually she reached a run-down hab block and entered with a quick glance back at the streets to check if anyone was following her.

Once she vanished into the building, Nox decloaked in the shadows of a nearby clump of machinery and walked casually towards the hab block, stretching out with the Force to make sure he wasn't being followed or watched. Entering the building, he ascended via the filthy stairwell to the floor just below the apartment his target lived in. He could sense her up there, moving about and unpacking the scant groceries she had managed to purchase at the market.

With the aid of the Force he unlocked the door to unit 27G and slipped inside. Luckily for the units occupant, they weren't home right now. Moving across the small hab unit to the window, Nox forced it open and swung out onto the building's exterior, cloaking himself simultaneously. He clung to the side like an arthropod, climbing up one floor to peer in the window of his target's home. It was empty, and the light from the refresher was on. Perfect.

He opened the locked window with a wave of his hand, slipping inside noiselessly and re-sealing the window. He moved into a corner of the hab, cloak still active, and waited in the dark.

In a few minutes, the human female emerged from the refresher. Even in the dark she looked beautiful, although the low-quality clothes her economic situation forced her to wear did her no favours, they couldn't hide the beauty she no doubt worked hard to maintain. She rounded the counter to the kitchenette and moved to retrieve the final bag of groceries when a hand clapped around her mouth and she was yanked backward until she was pressed against hard armor. She screamed and immediately stomped on the intruder's armored foot, forcing another scream of pain as her heel collided with the solid alloy.

"Rylee!" Nox hissed in her ear. "Rylee Dray, its me. It's Teri." She immediately relaxed in visible relief and he released her. Something he regretted momentarily when she rounded on him, unbridled fury in her eyes.

"What is WRONG with you!" She screamed in a hoarse whisper. "Don't kriffing do that ever again! I nearly had a heart attack!"

"You're right." Nox acquiesced. "I'm sorry. I went a little too far with that."

"You're right about that!" She said furiously. "Force, I thought..." Her voice trailed off as he approached and moved to embrace her.

"Woah." She said, holding her hands out in front of her. "Oh no, you don't get to do that. Not after how you abandoned me, abandoned US." She emphasized the "us" at the last minute, as if trying to rewrite her own thoughts.

"I know." Nox said, and genuine regret showed on his tattooed face. "I abandoned those who had been with me since the beginning, and for that I am truly sorry." Rylee laughed coldly.

"A Sith being sorry? Give me some credit Teri. I'm smarter than that and we both know it."

"No." Nox said, reaching out to seize her arm and pull her close enough so she could stare directly into his eyes. "I mean it. You know who I am now Rylee, the power I hold. Believe me when I say that loyalty is so scarce a resource that I could not possibly regret my mistake more." She looked away pointedly, but Nox could see in her face that she was just being stubborn. She had seen the truth in his eyes. For once Nox didn't even have to lie, it was true. The Cult of the Screaming Blade had been his most loyal supporters since the beginning and more and more he was finding loyalty to be in short supply.

"Rylee." He said, softening his tone and releasing her arm. "You have to believe me. I made a mistake, and I've come to ask your forgiveness." He weaved the Force into his words, making them more persuasive and stirring than they might otherwise have been.

"You abandoned us." Rylee protested, tears beginning to spill from her eyes. "You abandoned me!" She sobbed, reaching up to try and wipe the moisture from her face, only to burst fully into tears. Slowly and ever-so-tenderly, Nox embraced her, holding her against him gently as she let out the emotions she had been bottling up for years, ever since the man she had loved left her to rot.

"Stupid!" She spat, pounding her small, delicate fists on his hard, armoured chest over and over. "You left me! How could you!" Nox said nothing, letting her vent her anger. She deserved to, and he deserved it. He let himself feel the shame in all its potency. He had failed those most faithful to him. The least he deserved was this. Rylee wore herself out punching him and eventually even her sobs began to lessen and become hiccups. Eventually she pushed herself off of him, grabbed some tissues from the dispenser on the counter, and began to wipe her face. Nox wisely remained silent.

When she finished, she embraced him again and laid her makeup-stained face on his shoulder. "Don't ever leave me again." She said, her voice pleading. Nox put a hand on her head, running his fingers through her dark hair.

"I won't. I promise." He said.

___________

Nox woke to the sounds of traffic and voices that were ever-present on Nar Shadda, and Rylee's lips pressed against his own.

"Mmmmm. Morning." He said through her passionate kiss.

"Morning my lord." She said, equal parts cheery and sultry. She seemed completely unwilling to get off from on top of him. He didn't blame her, he was comfortable too. He reached up behind her and pulled her down against him. She giggled and they rolled over.

Several pleasurable hours later, Rylee emerged from the refresher to find Nox seated in her only chair, reading something on his datapad. She promptly sat down on his lap and wriggled her naked body under his arm.

"You are insatiable." He chuckled, bemused.

"I can't help myself." She said truthfully. Noticing that the data on the datapad's screen was programming script, she turned to him. "What are you up to my lord?"

"Have a look." He said, handing her the datapad. She scanned the information, her expertise informing her as to what the code was in a few lines. She turned back to look at him.

"You're really doing this?"

"Of course," Nox said. "my need for loyal supporters is higher than it ever was."

"But, why not tell them the truth? Like you did with me?"

"You are different." Nox told her, pulling her close to him. "Others would have their faith in me shaken or broken. You know them better than anyone Rylee, think. Can you really say that all of them will forgive me?"

"No." Rylee admitted, nuzzling his neck. "They don't know you like I do."

"Exactly." Nox affirmed, kissing her forehead. "Now come on, much as I like you this way, you'll need some clothes for this."

___________

The doors of the Strell House flew into building with a thunderous crash, nearly killing several of the Screaming Blade cult members standing nearby. Everyone scrambled to get out of the way as Nox, radiating dark power and overwhelming fury, stormed into the building. Spying the three members of the so-called “Veil” to whom he had sold the cult years earlier, he snarled and moved quickly towards them. They looked like they were about to flee, but one of the three stepped forward and opened his mouth to speak.

Nox immediately fried him alive with a burst of powerful lightning, the corpse jerking and swaying like a puppet on strings before falling to the ground with a dry crunch. One of the remaining two pressed a button on his wrist, before Nox spoke up, loud enough for everyone in the Strell House to hear.

“I entrusted my flock to you, and you betray me so boldly?” He drew himself up, and to the astonishment of many in the large meeting place, a ghostly reptilian silhouette began to take shape behind him. The specter was larger than any living thing any of the sheltered, ignorant cult members had ever seen. Its long tail stretched out the door, its claws positioned protectively close to Nox, its great jaws opening wide as it reared back its head and unleashed a resounding roar. The great noise shook the ground, and even the cyborg swindlers seemed shocked and terrified. All of their implants were telling them the ghostly image they saw was most definitely real, yet logic dictated that it couldn’t possibly be.

“The Great Dragon!” Came the terrified cry of one of the cultists. Many of them fell to their knees and prostrated themselves in the most humiliating positions possible, desperately hoping to avoid the punishment they knew was about to be handed out.

Nox did not disappoint. Fire erupted from the jaws of the ghostly Krayt dragon, engulfing the swindlers in otherworldly flames. Their agonized screams continued on long after their bodies were charred husks, only ceasing moments before the flames vanished, and three piles of completely burnt meat and melted metal sat steaming at Nox’s feat, the floor around them covered in scorch marks.

“Master forgive us!” Screamed a desperate woman, and the hall shook with the intensity and volume of the many pleas for mercy and clemency. The spectral image vanished, and Nox turned to the crowd of terrified cultists, raising his arms like a father beckoning his children to embrace him.

“Come.” He said in a commanding voice, the Force imbuing his words with unnatural authority and strength. They came, many weeping, some in shock, others in grim, repentant silence and gathered around him. Rylee had come through the door, and as she made her way through the throng, many begged her forgiveness for ousting her and Destris long ago. She seemed to pay them no heed, but Nox could see she was pleased with their reactions, immensely so, and he smiled. He had no need to corrupt her, she was as ripe for harvest as she would ever be. When she reached him, he directed her to stand beside him and addressed the throng.

“My children,” he began in a stern, patriarchal tone, “I came here today to bring judgment.” The crowd convulsed and several women screamed and fainted. “My wrath has been spent, for the betrayers have suffered their due. However, while I know your hearts to be fundamentally loyal, your minds are irresponsible things, easily given to grand notions and bright promises. Do not fear, I do not lay the fault of this entirely on your heads.” He paused to take in their faces. They were listening raptly, the entirety of their attention devoted to him. “But you must be disciplined. Your treacherous minds and rebellious flesh taught to follow what you know in your heart to be right.” A group of men and women wearing metal skull masks came in the door behind them, walking over to the group as he spoke. Several people at the back of the crowd noticed them as they drew closer, while Nox continued to speak.

“Those who come now are my heralds. Do not fear them; they will induct you into the ways of true power. The time is coming when the whole galaxy shall know my name, and you will be counted as blessed to be among those who will bring that future into reality.” As he spoke, several of the masked men set down the crates they were carrying, opened them, and began to hand out skull masks just like theirs to the closest cultists, who cautiously but obediently took them.

Nox watched in silence as the operatives handed out the equipment, before turning to Rylee.

“You remember what to do right?” She nodded.

“Upload the purger virus into the Promenade mainframe and set off the explosives once everyone has left, then proceed to the rendezvous.”

“Then go.” Nox instructed. “I will see you soon.”

___________

Demise strode confidently through the streets of Dengal, the capital city of the Imperial world Surosali. If the information Nox had furnished him with was correct, The Reapers were running a smuggling ring on this world. Why a group of career assassins would be running a side gig in smuggling he had no clue, but it hardly mattered. Once he had acquired the location of their base of operations from his target they would all be dead.

Vette trailed along behind, her eyes wandering from store window to store window as they passed them. To a casual observer it would appear as if she was window-shopping, but in fact she was using the reflective surfaces of the store windows to assist her in spotting a potential tail.

“Anything?” Demise asked in a low voice.

“Nope. All clear so far.” She murmured back.

They turned down another street and continued in the new direction for a few klicks before finally reaching their destination. A large sign in the window said “Turos Antiques”. Demise swung the door open rather forcefully and lumbered in, causing the shopkeeper to look up in surprise. The man’s shock quickly morphed into smiling professionalism, and he greeted the rather sinister-looking giant who had just entered his establishment with an uncharacteristic level of calm.

“Hail my lord!” He said, bowing respectfully. “May I say it is truly an honor to have a Sith in my humble shop. What can your eternal servant Turos do for you today?” Demise reached across the counter and seized the cheerful man’s throat in one gauntleted hand, lifting him clear off the ground and easily holding him aloft on one massive arm. The man gasped for breath and attempted to plead for his life, when Demise shoved a datapad into his face. On it was a warrant issued by the planetary governor for his arrest, based on charges of treason and sedition.

“Do you see this?” Demise snarled. “This is what happens when you smuggle stolen technology and weapons for the Empire’s enemies Jiroam.”

“My lor-urk!” The man gurgled, desperately trying to breathe.

“Now,” Demise continued, as if Jiroam hadn’t just tried to speak, “you are going to tell me where these rats are hiding, or I will end your miserable existence right here and now, Jiroam.” He spat the man’s name, as if a curse, and behind him, Vette winced. Demise set Jiroam back down, allowing him to rub his throat before he croaked out an answer in a hoarse rasp.

“I don’t know whe-” He was cut off by Demise leaning his entire upper body over the counter so that the one-way lenses of his ghoulish helm were even with the terrified shopkeeper’s eyes.

“I know who and what you are Jiroam.” Demise said, speaking so softly Jiroam almost didn’t hear what he said. The massive Sith’s voice nonetheless carried with it a level of unspoken menace that far surpassed that of the choking grip he had had on the man’s neck moments before.

“We both know that you are a thorough man, who doesn’t make underhanded and illegal deals without getting your hands on some insurance. So spit it out, and I will tell the governor not to have you put to death for this.” Jiroam gulped loudly, before recovering his voice and squeaking out:

“They’re holed up in an old weapons factory in the industrial park, the one just past The Stacks.”

“The Stacks?”

“The hab-blocks my lord, four blocks from here.”

“Good.” Demise said, his tone still harsh. “Exactly what sorts of merchandise have you been procuring for these clients of yours Jiroam?” Jiroam winced even as he confessed.

“Classified Imperial technology, experimental weapons, recovered archeo-tech. They wanted everything.” As Jiroam finished speaking, Demise straightened up and reached out a hand.

“No please!” Jiroam wailed. But instead of vising itself around his neck, the armoured gauntlet rested on his shoulder.

“Now that wasn’t hard at all was it?” Demise asked rhetorically, before turning and marching out the door, with Vette scurrying after him.

__________

Xalek entered his master’s chambers to find Darth Nox standing in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out on the luxury apartment’s landing pad and Kaas City beyond. Seeming to take no notice of his servant, Nox remained where he was, staring out into the dreary dusk that was falling over the Empire’s capital. When Xalek approached, he dropped to one knee and bowed his head in greeting.

“Master.” Nox didn’t move, but after a moment he spoke.

“Rise, Darth Raze.” Xalek did as he was commanded. Nox continued to stare out at the silhouetted city, and lightning flashed in the far distance several times before he spoke again.

“In the Foloshan sector on the western edges of Hutt space lies the Republic world of Koleesha. It was once an Imperial world, but was captured by the Republic some years ago, near the beginning of the war. You will take your fleet there and liberate it.”

“As you command, my master.” Xalek said obediently, bowing before he turned and left the chamber, the automated doors hissing shut behind him. The only sound in the room was the spattering of raindrops on the large windows, with Nox not having left his position since his apprentice had entered the room.

For just a moment, he allowed himself to feel remorse for what he had just done. Xalek had always been useful and loyal, but Nox was not given to foolish fancies and high ideals. He knew their relationship could only ever end one way. If he was honest with himself, he had always known it.

He turned away from the gray cityscape and marched towards the rear chambers. There was still so much work to do.

_________

The doors to the supposedly abandoned arms factory in the industrial sector of Dengal blew inward. A storm of blaster fire followed them in, killing many of the nearby cultists before they could so much as raise their weapons. Imperial troops stormed into the building, forming a phalanx as they mowed down every cultist in sight. Suddenly, a response to their incursion came in the form of several other salvos of blaster fire from the upper catwalks, as security teams attempted to disrupt their formation, separating and isolating them for elimination. A purple lightsaber flew over the Imperial’s heads towards one of the sources of sniper fire, and a loud scream was heard as the weapon sliced through something in the darkness of the upper factory before returning to whence it had come. Lord Demise strode across the threshold, Vette’s blaster fire following behind him and killing two more cultist snipers before they could get off a shot at the new, much larger target Demise presented.

A cultist with a cloaking device suddenly appeared from thin air with a vibroknife clutched in her hands, ready to drive it into the Sith’s eye lens and on into his brain, but she found herself thrown 50 feet across the factory floor without Demise even so much as moving a finger. Her body hit the ground and bounced before rolling to stop in a crumpled heap. She did not move again.

In fifteen minutes the entire factory was secure and all holdouts had been dealt with. Most had committed suicide rather than be captured, but an unlucky few had been too slow on the uptake and had managed to fail in preventing the Imperials from restraining them. The prisoners now stood shackled together like slaves in a line, as Demise commanded the troops in the scouring of the building.

They found precious little of worth. Other than the devices and tools which the cultists had been manufacturing, this operation was bare-bones when it came to information on the enemy. While the governor would be pleased to have traitorous prisoners to interrogate and make an example of, Demise was disappointed by the lack of leads to follow up on.

“My lord, we’ve finished searching the entire building and all our findings are secured.” The Imperial Sergeant reported stiffly. “What would you have us do?” Demise sighed inwardly.

“Prepare to move out Sergeant, let’s get these prisoners into the loving care of the Imperial interrogators.”

“Roger that m’lord.” The Sergeant confirmed before turning to his men. “Atten-hut!” He barked. They were instantly at attention, and the sergeant relayed the orders. As Demise lead the raid squad out of the factory and towards the waiting speeders at the end of the street, he pondered what his next move would be. He could wait for Nox to clue him in again, but he hated relying on other Sith, even ones as apparently loyal as Darth Nox. The problem was this raid, while successful, had offered no leads to follow up on, no clues to help him track down this cult and their enigmatic leader.

He helped Vette into the lead speeder before climbing into the driver’s seat himself. His only hope at this point was that the captives would break under interrogation and offer up the clues he needed. But that relied on the governor not mishandling the situation, or trying to exploit it for political gain by publically executing them before they revealed anything of worth. As the speeder train set off for the governor’s palace, Demise found himself doubting this excursion would produce any worthwhile results. Whatever this “Reaper” had planned, it would remain shrouded in shadow for now.

__________

Jay was just finishing filling out the departure forms when someone tapped him on the shoulder. He turned to see the smiling blue features of Jedi Master Reith, her opaque red eyes locked on him.

“I just came to say goodbye,” She said in explanation, “and to wish you good luck.” Jay smiled in return.

“I’ll take that luck,” he replied, bowing his head in a gesture of gratitude, “but the Force will provide me with what I need.”

“So which Master will you be investigating next?” Reith asked curiously.

“Master Soolong.” Jay informed her. “But before that I will need to meditate. There’s something going on here and I’m not seeing the bigger picture.” Reith nodded, as if in understanding. “You are returning to your post then?” Jay asked her.

“Yes.” She said, her smile becoming mournful. “This was a nice diversion, but I do need to get back to finishing up my circuit. After the next colony on the list I’ll be returning to Tython for re-assignment.” She smiled conspiratorially at him, “Perhaps we’ll see each other soon.”

“Perhaps.” Jay admitted, turning back to the forms. He scribbled the last few lines of information out and handed them back to the clerk. She took them and the two Jedi turned and walked towards the area of the spaceport where elevators waited to take them to the hangers. When they reached Reith’s elevator, she suddenly turned and hugged him. It shocked him so much he almost pushed her away, but realizing how rude that would be, he merely patted her shoulder and gently separated them from each other.

“You’re kind of strange for a Jedi Master.” He chided gently.

“Thanks,” she grinned, turning towards her elevator, “You’re not so bad yourself.”

__________

The Reaper stood completely still on the empty bridge of his Star Destroyer, as if he were frozen in time. There was no hint of breathing, none of the unconscious shuffling and twitching that indicated the being inside the armor was alive. More than anything, it was his complete and absolute control over his own body, even its unconscious functions, that gave credence to his claim that he was that legendary being of ancient prophecy. It was also this control that made him entirely unnerving to be around.

The messenger scurried onto the bridge, hurrying down the laneway towards the raised dais where his master stood, his fear coalescing into a tumor in his throat as he approached. His master was not famous for his mercy, and the news he carried was grave. Already his life was beginning to flash before his eyes. But whatever punishment he was about to endure, he knew it would be far, far worse for him if he failed to perform his duty and deliver the news he carried.

Reaching the foot of the dais steps, he sank to one knee and bowed his head in what he hoped was the perfect picture of humble submission.

“Lord.” He said, his voice wavering slightly as his fear tried to manifest itself.

“What news?” Came the cold and inhumanly detached reply. The messenger swallowed the lump in his throat and spoke clearly, if not bravely.

“Our mining operations on Doan were dismantled. The entire crew was massacred in a single night, even the project leaders.” When his master did not take advantage of the pause the messenger gave him to speak, he continued, but with less bravery as his lord’s silence caused the seed of fear he had buried to blossom. “Our manufacturing operation on Surosali was also discovered and uprooted. The security team was slaughtered and the attempts were made to arrest the work crew. Most did their duty, but some were taken alive.” In the long silence that followed, the messenger squeezed his eyes shut and prepared for the end. When his master spoke, he flinched, but no growling hiss of a lightsaber being bared, nor a sudden numbness below his neck followed.

“Thank you messenger, I was expecting these reports. You may go.” The messenger’s head shot up in surprise. The master had expected this? Immediately he mentally slapped himself, of course the master had expected this. He already saw into people’s true hearts, seeing into the future must be child’s play for him. Still, his lord’s lack of concern worried him, and with sudden bravery that didn’t come from anywhere inside him that he knew of, he asked:

“Lord, are these not grave tidings? Both our mining and manufacturing operations have been exposed.” Realizing his mistake as soon as the words were out of his mouth, he cowered and waited for the death that would now surely come. Instead however, his master spoke again. This time there was a subtle undercurrent of what almost seemed like amusement in his tone.

“Fear not my servant. Those operations were doomed from the start. Their entire purpose was to distract our enemies and draw them away from our true operations elsewhere. The crew members chosen for the task were ignorant of my greater plans and did their duty with pride. These are glad tidings for all my true servants, not somber. Now, do your own duty and send in the keepers, tell them to bring the pod with them.”

The servant, eager to escape before the Reaper changed his mind and killed him, bowed hurriedly and rushed out of the empty bridge. After a few minutes two more cult members entered the space, carrying a stasis pod on an anti-grav slab. With a gesture the Reaper dismissed them, and once they had left he approached the stasis pod and deactivated it.

He stepped back and watched as the pod began to systematically shut down and prepare its cargo for the return to the waking world. When the pod finally shut down and the battle-worn, wounded, and utterly confused Kaleesh fell out of the container onto his hands and knees, the Reaper stood still as stone, watching.

The warrior suffered coughing fits and blinked furiously as the effects of his internment in the stasis field began to fade. Eventually he got to his feet and saw the robed and armoured figure standing before him with that eerie stillness that made him seem unnatural and inhuman.

“Who are you?” Xalek croaked.

“I am your master.” The figure responded, without a hint of deception. With those words, Xalek felt his memories of the past, already hazy and unformed, vanish. Who was he? Where had he come from? What had he done? This being claimed to be his master, was that possible? Had this been his birth? Was he created by this being for a purpose? It must be the truth, why else would he be in this situation? The being before him radiated power and strength, so surely the creation of one such as Xalek was within his reach.

“I am Death.” The being spoke “And you are my Shadow.”

__________

Jay was falling towards Tython. The face of the planet rushed up to meet him faster than he could have thought possible. As he drew nearer he saw he was falling towards the Jedi Temple, which was standing still, silent, and empty. He landed in the courtyard in front of it, the impact driving the breath from his lungs. He was however, completely unharmed otherwise, and slowly got to his feet, staring up at the Temple. The night sky was curiously devoid of stars.

He entered the Temple, finding it eerily dark and deserted. There were no signs of battle, but he somehow wasn’t surprised when he came across the first body. It was Master Kiwiiks. He wanted to kneel down, to try and revive her, but when he saw her face was pale and skeletal, as if the meat had rotted away underneath, leaving only skin draped over bones, he knew it was pointless. He continued on through the Temple. In each wing, he found a body of one of the members of the Council. The one he found in the library, Master Sirina, had been horrifically fused with the wall, her once beautiful face frozen in a haunting expression of sheer terror.

When he finally reached the Jedi Council Chambers, he found the doors frozen over with ice. When he touched them, they shattered into a million tiny fragments. There, hovering in the center of the chamber, with Master Ro-Faal in its grip, was a specter. The thing was clad in ragged, tattered black robes, with skeletal, claw-like hands emerging from the wide, ragged sleeves. Under a heavy hood, its face was merely a skull with grey-black skin stretched over it, its eyes a hollow, icy blue. Its jaws were open, and white ectoplasm was drifting off of Master Ro-Faal’s body into the black maw. Ro-Faal’s face was locked in a permanent expression of horror and agony as his soul was siphoned away, the life in his eyes fading as he stared directly at Jay, standing in the doorway, motionless.

Suddenly, the thing’s foul gaze snapped away from Ro-Faal and locked with Jay’s own. The hollow blue orbs filled with an infinite malice and a deep, gnawing hunger. Jay woke up screaming.

__________

Jaesa was just returning to her ship when she received the news. The rogue Sith Darth Raze had engaged a Republic fleet in battle over Koleesha and was officially declared dead in the aftermath. The words made her feel numb at first. She stared at the datapad screen for a long moment before the emotions came. Anger, glee, pain, and joy all filled her at once. He was dead. The cause of her weakness, the only foe she had ever respected, and the only man besides her master who had gotten past her guard since she became Sith, was gone.

She didn’t know which of her feelings were the more genuine. Was she truly pleased that the bone-face was finally dead? Or was this like a battle wound, not felt when it is inflicted but causing lasting agony after the battle is long over? She tried to shake the thoughts and memories of him as she continued walking through Doan’s spaceport to her vessel’s hangar, but they came unbidden and unwelcome, flooding her mind with emotionally charged images and memories that made her heart ache.

The pain the memories brought and the weakness that pain implied angered her to the point where she used the Force to clumsily hurl a nearby chair across the spaceport in frustration. The flying furniture nearly struck several patrons, who scattered in fear, but none dared chastise or even approach her, knowing who and what she was by the robes she wore and the weapon on her hip.

“I will forget you.” She seethed at the air. “You were nothing to me, you ARE nothing to me!” The empty air did not respond, and Jaesa continued her march to the hangars, refusing to look back.

__________

Demise waited in front of his ship’s holoprojector as the line waited to be picked up. When the image of Servant One flickered into view, he seemed uncharacteristically annoyed and angry.

“Wrath. What is it?” He asked brusquely.

“I was calling to report the destruction of another group of traitors. They seem to be connected to the ones I massacred on-”

“Yes. Very good.” Servant One cut him off. “You’ve done well Wrath, continue your work in the Emperor’s name.”

“Servant One,” Demise said tentatively, “is something wrong? What’s going on?”

“Nothing you need concern yourself with.” The tall pureblood replied before the line cut out. For a moment, Demise stood there staring at the empty space. Then he reached out and turned off the holoprojector, still standing there. Something was going on, that much was clear, but what could possibly have disturbed the Emperor’s Hand so much that they would act so completely out of character? In all the time he had known him, One had never showed any strong emotions. It was almost as if…he let the thought trail off. Could it be that the Emperor was somehow connected to the Hand’s change? Had the Hand, his most faithful servants, somehow been abandoned by him? Or was there something else to it?

He dispelled the thoughts as he made his way towards his chambers. He would research, he would meditate, and he would wait. The right move to make was to bide his time, and continue serving the Empire’s best interests. None of the leads Nox had fed him thus far had been wrong, or even suspicious, and the further he headed down this path, the more convinced he became that it would lead him to the truth.

__________

Jay and Nadia received many strange and worried looks from the Jedi and Padawans in the Temple courtyard when their speeder landed in front of the Temple and they leaped out, leaving the engine running as they charged at full, supernatural speed into the Temple, deftly dodging around other Jedi that were incidentally in their path. In a matter of moments they arrived at the doors to the chambers of the Jedi High Council.

The room had been constructed to be soundproof to ensure privacy, but this time the lack of any noise coming from behind the doors felt to Jay like an omen of what he was sure he would find there. Discovering that the doors were sealed, Jay typed his passcode into the terminal several times, only for it to deny him access each time. In a flurry of motion, he ripped a panel off of the nearby wall and hastily crossed several wires, ignoring the shocks he received.

The large double doors swung open, and Jay and Nadia rushed inside to see Reith, still clad in her Jedi mystic robes, driving the violet blade of her growling lightsaber through the chest of Master Ro-Faal, who grunted as his final breaths were expelled from his lungs. His body was tossed aside using the Force, and Reith stood there, staring at them, her blade growling in anticipation.

“So,” she said, not taking her eyes off of Jay, “you found me out.” Her pretty face split in a malevolent grin that made her look hideous, and Jay realized that it was a smile of murderous glee. The next instant, before he could react, the doors suddenly slammed shut, sealing themselves before the console to open them exploded, causing Nadia to start.

“Well,” said Reith, “The Master did not predict this, but I have already performed my task.” She gestured at the bodies of the Council members, strewn as they were throughout the chamber.

“The Master?” Jay-Li asked, keeping his voice unnaturally calm and curious. “Who is your master, Reith?” Reith laughed.

“If you were smart, I’m sure you could figure it out for yourself! After all, who is the master of a Reith?” She laughed again, as if she had just told a terribly amusing joke. “But enough of this, Jedi.” She said, her murderous smile widening, “I want to see just how loudly you scream.”

She launched herself at him, the double-bladed saber whirring like a plasma saw as she attempted to section him into a dozen pieces. He dodged her attack, drawing his own weapon as he did so, the twin blue blades moving to slice her weapon arm off at the elbow. She effortlessly dodged his attempt at disarming her and came at him again. Their blades met with sparking howls, and he recognized her form as an aggressive variant of Niman. She grinned at him from the other side of their crossed weapons. “The Master himself taught me, so don’t expect to make it out of this alive.” She evaded Nadia’s attempt at skewering her with her own lightsaber, and Jay too had to move to prevent the green blade from running him through. Nadia, furious that someone had tried to harm him, was taking the fight to Reith, her verdant blade matching Reith’s blow for blow. Reith reached out with the Force and launched one of the overturned Council seats at her opponent from behind, but Nadia deftly avoided it with a sideways leaping roll that carried her up onto a sconce platform on one of the pillars ringing the chamber and followed up by bringing a golden wave of Force energy down on her enemy. The resplendent power would have crushed a lesser foe beneath its metaphysical weight, but Reith took it in stride and launched a second chair at her, forcing her to leap from her position before the chair slammed into where she had been standing with a thunderous crack.

Reith brought up her blade just in time to block Jay’s flurry of strikes as he ravaged her defenses with a complex series of extremely fast attacks. Reith had to use the Force several times to prevent him from dealing crippling wounds to her, which left her open to Nadia’s barrage of objects that she levitated with the Force and launched at her. Several of the projectiles struck her body, causing her pain and slowing her reactions. She was driven back by Jay’s attacks, which had become overwhelmingly fast. Every time she tried to escape and slip past him into the open center of the room, he was there blocking her path. He moved so fast and struck from so many angles at once, even performing physically impossible acrobatic maneuvers just to strike at her from every conceivably exposed position, that she was beginning to find herself unable to keep up with more than a few of his strikes.

Laughing with the confidence of a madwoman who knows that her life is about to end, Reith reached out with the Force one final time. Taking her immense strength and using it to pull the ceiling down as hard as she could. The ceiling began to bulge in the middle, and chunks of it began to fall on the combatants. Nadia, ever the opportunist, turned the falling projectiles into even more fuel for her telekinetic storm, her face a rigid mask of concentration as she hurled a seemingly endless stream of larger and larger objects directly at the mad Chiss.

The chunks falling from the ceiling were much larger now, and it seemed the whole Council chamber would collapse on them. Reith continued to cackle even as her flagging defenses, both physical and in the Force, began to fade and sputter. Her robes were torn open in many places from the countless glancing wounds Jay was managing to inflict, and she was bleeding from the cuts made by Nadia’s projectile storm. Jay was forced to back off his attack when a falling chunk of the ceiling he had been too distracted to foresee nearly crushed him. In an instant, Reith took advantage of this to raise her arms and bring them down with a gesture of finality. The middle of the ceiling gave way, and a mass of stone came crashing to the ground, crushing the Council table and nearly getting Nadia as well. The seismic shock of the landing knocked both Jay and Nadia off of their feet, and even staggered Reith, who had been fully prepared for the impact.

Jay managed to roll out of the way of Reith’s intended coup de gras and roll to his feet in time to block her followup attack with his own blades. They engaged in furious duel, but most of Jay’s energy had been spent on the initial engagement, and now his reactions were slow and sluggish by comparison, as he struggled to conserve his shrinking reserves of energy and will. Reith managed to slice open his robes on his arms and chest in several places, leaving long, scarring burns where her blade had just missed severing a limb or piercing a vital organ.

Suddenly, some chunks of the rock mass in the center of the room shifted slightly, and Jay put all of his remaining energy into a leap which carried him several meters into the air, just as the mass of rock hurled itself from its place and slammed into a screaming Reith, who had turned just in time to see her own death hurtling towards her at bone-crushing speeds.

The mass of rock, pulped gore, and tattered fabric slammed into the wall of the Jedi Council Chamber, making a crater in it. Nadia stood on the opposite side of room panting heavily for a moment, an inferno burning in her eyes, before the flames faded and her eyes closed. Jay darted across the room to catch her, managing to reach her unconscious body just before it smacked the floor. He gently, lovingly, laid her to rest on the cold marble surface, kneeling beside her and channeling what little energy he had left to spare into keeping her from slipping too far into unconsciousness.

The doors suddenly fell inward, ripped off of their hinges by the two Jedi Knights who collapsed to their knees with the effort, as another contingent of Jedi and several med-droids rushed into the room. Seeing the gory mess on one side of the room, the bodies of the few formerly-living members of the Jedi Council, and the Grandmaster of the Order kneeling beside his former padawan, who lay comatose on the floor on the opposite side of the room, the Jedi healers rushed to where the two living Jedi were an began to assist Jay. The med-droids meanwhile, checked every corpse in the room to see if any of them could be resuscitated. Several Jedi who weren’t specialized in healing watched helplessly from the entrance, and a crowd was beginning to gather, from which gasps of shock and horror arose when they saw the state of the chamber, and the bodies lying on the floor.

When Jay was certain that Nadia was stable, he allowed himself to be helped to his feet by two healers and led away, while others carefully lifted Nadia up to take her with them to the infirmary. The crowd parted to let them through, and sometime between leaving the crowd behind and reaching the infirmary doors, Jay slipped into merciful unconsciousness.

___________

Xalek stood, arms linked behind his back, watching the flurry of activity in the massive hanger below him as the Order’s engineers assembled the superweapon. The device was so massive it nearly filled the entire hanger, and Xalek knew that the only way this device was ever going to fit on a Star Destroyer like the one his new master possessed, was if the entire vessel was refitted to support it. The vessel would lose most of its military capabilities, leaving it vulnerable to attack by even the smallest and weakest of enemy ships, but in return, would have the power to destroy an entire world.

That was part of the reason why, he was certain, his master had chosen to name the weapon after the ship it was to be integrated with: The Reaper’s Scythe. The scythe, that ancient agricultural implement, was not weapon that was deadly in and of itself. It required proper wielding and careful direction in order to be used with great effectiveness. Much like his master’s ship would soon be, it was more a tool than a weapon, and Xalek was certain that of all beings in the galaxy, his master was the one being capable of using this particular tool with the acumen and delicacy it required.

One of the engineers, his cranium covered by the same skeletal mask as his more violence-oriented comrades who served the master more directly, came onto the platform through the door leading to the hanger bay controls. Stopping a few feet from Xalek, he sank to one knee in submission and bowed his helmeted head.

“Shadow.” He said with utmost respect. “We are almost finished assembling the device. In just a few more days we will be ready to perform operational tests.”

“Good.” Xalek said briskly, enjoying the sound of his new title on the supplicant’s lips. “Our master will be pleased to hear of this. You have all done well.”

“Only thanks to your guidance and presence, Shadow of Death.” The engineer said, with reverence that bordered on rapture. “Without your firm hand here to guide and direct our efforts and focus our minds, we would be as we were before.”

Xalek frowned behind his bone mask, remembering how before his arrival the engineers had been riven and divided by petty quarrels and past slights. He had been forced to kill a few, but the rest had fallen into line not long after that and begun to work in earnest, directing all of their focus and attention to their task with single-minded purpose.

“Dismissed.” He said to the engineer. “I will inform him of our progress and relay his words to you and the others later.” The man stood to his feet and scurried back through the door he had entered from. Xalek leaned on the railing and watched as, seconds later, the same man entered the hanger bay through a door down below and hurried back to rejoin his fellows.

His master’s plans would be coming to fruition soon, and he intended to ensure that they unfolded as envisioned. He allowed himself, just for a moment, to wonder if his father was watching him, and if he was proud of his son for the part he was to play in events to come.