The Artifact. (prologue)

One year after the death of The Feral King
Twenty years before The Summerlight Gathering


There is no emotion, there is peace. There is no emotion, there is peace. There is no emotion...

She said the words over and over in her mind. Normally they would give her some sort of comfort or direction, But no longer. They seemed hollow, empty, and weightless. She knew the truth now. there was no peace. Only fear.

No, that line of thinking wouldn't do. She, Krystah Avun was a Jedi padawan, fear had no place in her mind or her heart. If her master could feel her turmoil she would know what to say to calm her. Her master always had the right words, and her voice...her voice was...

By the force, Krystah couldn't remember the sound of her master's voice, only the sound of her screams. It had been a terrible sound, haunting and horrifying and now it was her only memory of the best friend she had in all the galaxy. The thought made her sick to her stomach, she retched but nothing came up. Her belly had been empty for days or had it been weeks or years? The hunger and the dark were maddening. she would die soon. What an odd comfort it was knowing death was so close.

The door to her cell opened and comfort was immediately replaced with fear. Not just fear, gut-wrenching, heart-stopping terror. Krystah did all she could to not be noticed, wishing with her whole heart that she could become small, could go unseen, but there was no hiding. A scream caught in her throat as she was lifted by ruddy unwashed hair from her cell which was nothing more than a covered hole in the ground. She had been pulled from the darkness of her cell into light so blinding she fell to her knees. Who or whatever had pulled her from the hole did not wait for her to find her feet and was now dragging her by the hair. The fear was so strong it was hard to breathe. Her eyes finally adjusted to the light to the… moonlight. It was night, but it was so bright, why was it so bright?

Gathering her courage she chanced to look up to see what had her by the hair. It seemed to be male, tall, well over six feet, his dark flesh covered in red markings. His face hidden behind a carved wooden mask with monstrous features, painted red with large black eyes, a wide flat nose, white tusks that jutted menacingly from the lower jaw along with a pair of dagger long white fangs. The stranger dragged her across the ground unbothered as she kicked and fought to free herself, her legs becoming covered in dirt and bloody scratches. Eventually, they reached the steps of what seemed to be a temple.

No, The Force told her this was no temple. It was a tomb.

She was handed to two new strangers with their own demon masks. They lifted the young padawan and carried her up the steps to an altar. Her hands were bound and she was once again lifted from her feet. her tied and outstretched arms placed on a hook at the end of a pole that kept her in a standing position with the tips of her boots barely scraping against the ground.

After some time Krystah realized she was alone. Krystah looked up and saw a moon so full in the sky it seemed close enough to touch, shining with a bright white light like a portal to another realm, blanketed by a curtain of shooting stars. The beauty of it seemed so out of place, so grotesque.

She was left there for an hour at least, maybe longer, watching the sky shed a million tears for her.

she was in more pain than she thought possible, but she resolved not to cry, to no longer feel the fear. If she was going to die it would be as she lived, as a Jedi. another hour passed and to her...relief? Was that what it was? Relief that someone had come to finally end her suffering? Yes, it must have been, relief. The figure appeared to be a man. He wore a mask that covered the top half of his face, and robes...Jedi robes! Her heart skipped a beat, did the council send someone to rescue her? She could cry from joy, she studied the Jedi in the moonlight the best she could and he felt familiar, the robes and the chin, the beard, she knew this man.

"m-Master Zhin?" she croaked feebly, Master Zhin was the reason Krystah and her master had come here. Zhin had been exiled from the order for some reason or another and disappeared almost a year ago, when her master found out about the council's decision she couldn't believe what she had heard. After all Master Zhin had been her master when she was a Padawan. So the two had spent the better part of a year looking for him to hear his side of the story and all their leads brought them here to Islimore, to this.

"Master Zhin, is that you?" she asked again with a bit more strength to her voice. The elder Jedi nodded in response and Krystah's heart lit up, her spirits soared, he was going to save her she just knew it. Tears began to slowly trickle down her cheeks, Krystah couldn't remember being more relieved in her whole fourteen years of life.

Master Zhin smiled almost sweetly at the young girl and in almost a whisper spoke to her in a language she had never heard but still somehow took the joy she was feeling and turned it to dread.

Master Zhin took the mask from his face and Krystah began to cry in earnest, big loud disgusting sobs rang out from the young girl. It was the kind of cry where her chest felt close to bursting and she was sure she could be heard for miles but she couldn't stop. Master Zhin had removed his mask and shown his true face, his eyes looked to have been carved from his face, and what remained were evil red sores leaking dark black blood. The hopelessness of her situation was reflected in the empty eye sockets of the fallen Jedi and all the joy she had felt was once again replaced by fear.

There is no peace...there is only fear.

Master Zhin had in his hand a dagger with a blade the length of his forearm, he took the blade and sliced her belly as easily as if he had used his lightsaber and reached his hand inside her pulling her guts out upon removal. She could see her intestines lying there on the altar as hundreds of voices howled in triumph. As she looked at her insides now on her outside with life fading from her Krystah Avun no longer felt fear. No, she felt neither pain nor fear, she only felt...

Peace.