Vash'karath
The Cradle of Dust, Thirak'ra, was a garden of destinies and dreams unfulfilled. Darth Empyrean, Emperor and Dark Lord of the Sith Order, strode through it as a man through a graveyard. These were painful futures, painful memories of possibilities never to come to pass. There were futures where he never had died, and he lived with his wife and children without concern. Futures where he conquered the Galaxy, futures where he had simply died as a youth - like he deserved. This was one of his favorite places in Vash'karath, but in just the same way it was... his least favorite.
It was a path of mourning, each possibility a world he had missed out on, nearly avoided, barely passed upon. Worlds where he had stayed with Irajah Ven, worlds where he had never met anyone at all - but all of these paled in comparison to a singular vision he sought out. Like a flower growing in a corner of his great garden, Darth Empyrean strode through the graves of worlds yet unlived for a singular memory mixed with possibility.
He strode up to it, gently resting the back of his hand against its metaphysical petals. It was a fragile thing, this memory, but one he took special care to anchor. This would one future he would not abandon, no matter what. With a closing of his eyes, he leaned his head into it and felt it overcome him;
The Technicolour Beat was a ship he had taken from the Dominion a lifetime ago. In his youth, he had turned it into one of the most famous nightclubs in the Galaxy, and used that funding to create the Empire he stood upon today. How often he had spent long times on drugs, women, men, and more - all of it a graceless attempt at filling the void in his soul dug out by fear. He was a child then, scared of the world that had beaten him into the dirt and whipped him until even his name had abandoned him.
It was here he had met Srina Talon for the first time. In reality, in his timeline, he had given her Noana - a sword infused with his very being. It had later bound them together when they both needed each other, even if years later. In this memory, this possible past however, they did not separate after his sword was gifted to her. They did not cut their conversation short so she would return to her lover, but rather fell madly into the rhythm of music and lights.
They spun around eachother in this youth, floating through the zero gravity of the central chamber. Music blared, lasers danced around them, but for the two star crossed lovers there was nothing but eachother. They flew through the air, floated through dances and songs that carefully transitioned into the next, but their eyes never left eachothers. Lost in a dream, the two fell madly in love there and then.
This was always where Empyrean stopped his visions. He could not bare the future that would come of it - of never dying, of being happy at such a young age, forever accepting that he did not need to endlessly search for power. When the vision faded like wake in a river, Empyrean took a moment to watch the memory now from the outside, then stepped back. These were the moments he could escape, if only for a few minutes, before he had to return to the galaxy.
To not be Rhysion Talon, but to be Darth Empyrean. The Pale Rider. Death Incarnate. The Dead God.
Tomorrow was to be a day like the last - a day where he fought to secure a future he could not begin to see. All for the sake of his love and his children. Tomorrow would be a day for war, just like every day he had ever lived.
