Private A Crisis of Faith

[Onrai]

Tython
Derix Tirall

It had been some time since the invasion of Tython, something that Onrai had done her best to ensure was a victory for the Dark Empire. At a substantial cost, Tython had been saved - only for the Imperial Council to begin squabbling in the wake of the confirmed disappearance of Darth Solipsis . After what had proven a tense discussion, Onrai had chosen to return to Tython to press some of her claims to the planet - and respond to the broken faith of one Derix Tirall . The man had continued to cling to faith in the Church of the Dark Side, the religion propped up by Solipsis as a means of keeping the faith in the Empire.

Onrai, however, knew better.

Vianism had remained almost ubiquitous among her followers and the personnel under her command. The fact that there was a tangible being for them to worship who proactively benefitted them in exchange for their praise, along with the visible evidence of the story of creation, had been beneficial enough. Now, however, with the power plays of Marlon Sularen and Valek Zuraxin having been made, secularization was at hand, or at least a change from a faith made to reinforce support of Solipsis's agenda.

So it was that Onrai made her way to Derix's laboratory, seeking to work with him on a future for both of them. Or at least one.

 

[Derix Tirall]

Onrai​

Derix Tirall stood in the heart of his laboratory, a vast and sterile room filled with strange, humming equipment and the faint acrid smell of chemicals. His gaze was locked onto the subject before him, an array of biological samples suspended in translucent tanks filled with viscous fluids. The lab was quiet, save for the soft whirring of machines and the occasional click of a datapad. He took a slow breath, his fingers tracing over the display, calculating the next set of adjustments for the experiment.

The subject was a prisoner, a reluctant donor for his ongoing work—a twisted combination of ancient Sith alchemy and modern Imperial science. The creature's limp form was suspended in a levitation field, subjected to subtle energies designed to probe the deepest recesses of its biology, test the extent of its loyalty, its resilience. Tirall was not experimenting with creatures, though. This was all for the greater purpose of solidifying his plans and those of the Church. He needed to understand how to manipulate the Force, how to control the hidden currents of power that flowed through both the galaxy and those who served him. His experiments, some whispered as arcane and forbidden, were not without consequence.

In the back corner of the lab, his daughter stood—her cold, Chiss-blue eyes reflecting an eerie calm as she silently observed. Colonel Ixen Tirall, an imposing figure in the Imperial Security Bureau, had inherited her father's calculated demeanor, though her loyalty was unquestioned, her methods often far more subtle. She watched the experiments with a professional detachment, but Derix knew that the intricate bond they shared transcended mere military kinship. There was something unspoken between them, a shared understanding of their place within the web of the Empire's power. She was a valuable asset, far more capable than many of her peers in the Bureau.

"Status update?" Derix asked, turning to her. His voice was soft, yet demanding, the weight of the question hanging heavily in the air.

"The surveillance network within the Imperial hierarchy is intact. The loyalists are still in place," Ixen replied in her usual measured tone, though there was a glint of concern in her gaze. "But the discontent is growing. There's only so much we can control in the shadows before the light breaks through."

Tirall's lips pressed into a thin line. He knew that the Church's influence, his influence, was eroding, bit by bit. The decline was slow, but it was inevitable. With Solipsis gone and no clear successor to his mantle, the Dark Empire was drifting. Tirall could feel the tremors of instability beneath his feet, the fragile alliances of the Empire shifting with every passing day.

And then, there was Onrai.

He could feel her presence approaching before she even reached the door—a subtle shift in the air, a disturbance in the Force. It was almost a comfort, though the uncertainty in her intentions gnawed at the back of his mind. She had not come to him in person in some time, not since the Imperial conclave and the subsequent tensions that followed. Their paths had diverged in the wake of Solipsis's disappearance, and he suspected that Onrai saw him as an obstacle, as much as an asset. Her visit to Tython was no mere diplomatic courtesy. No, this was far more personal, and Derix wasn't one to ignore the signals of a changing galaxy.

Ixen gave a slight nod, her posture stiffening in response to the familiar presence. "It's her," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

Derix turned toward the door, taking one final look at the experiment in front of him before he spoke again, his voice colder, more controlled. "Let her in."

 

[Onrai]

Tython
Derix Tirall

The door opened, exposing the shaded form of the Anti-Force entity. The malevolent construct slowly stepped further into laboratory in question - it reminded her much of her facilities in the former Trayus Academy back on Malachor V. Her eyes observed the twisted construct that had perhaps been an enemy once upon a time - or perhaps a wayward Imperial citizen whose personal fortunes had simply not been that lucky. Either way, a modicum of pity was thrown the way of the pathetic creature as Onrai further strolled in, doors shutting behind her. Her head turned, eyes seemingly static on an otherwise unfeeling face, to observe the cultist's offspring, measuring her fear, her tension, her apprehension. Soon enough, she was within 'conversation distance' of Derix himself, and what few features could be seen on her cheeks gave the barest hint of a smile.

"It's good to see you engaging in productive work, Derix." She said with a tone of at least apparent sincerity. "In the wake of the Tython invasion, little has been done to fortify this world, this system, and our infrastructure upon it. As the one who did the most among the Imperial defenders, I am pressing my claims to Tython more directly in order to prepare for the day the Alliance seeks once more to reclaim, and I seek your help for that." Her eyes briefly flickered back towards Ixen, eying the man's daughter with a thoughtful gaze. "Loyalists to Solipsis are not going to be enough for whatever measures you have in place, given the assurance of his disappearance and the push of his former Hand for power." This seeming response to her hushed comments suggested an unexpected attentiveness from the ethereal being.

"That, and we need to talk about your place in the new order of things." There would likely be a number of revelations, gnosis unveiled to the devout Darksider - and Onrai hoped that perhaps it could yet stave off unnecessary internal conflict.

 

[Derix Tirall]

Onrai

As the door slid open, Derix did not immediately turn. He felt the presence before the figure fully stepped into the room, a strange, unsettling disturbance that lingered in the air like the remnants of a fading storm. Onrai, the Anti-Force entity, was an alien presence—untouched by the Force, yet somehow more dangerous for it. It was a reminder that even in a galaxy governed by the unseen currents of the Force, there were forces beyond comprehension, beyond even the Empire's control.

As her eyes swept across the twisted form of the subject, Derix's attention flicked briefly to the creature, still suspended in its unnatural state. The thing had once been a threat, but now it was just a tool, a pawn in his experiments. He allowed himself a small smile, just for a moment, before his thoughts returned to the more pressing matters.

Onrai's words were measured, but there was no mistaking the edge beneath them. Her voice was smooth with a warmth that felt almost mocking. Predictable.

Derix met her eyes without hesitation. "Tython will be as it always has been," he replied, his voice betraying none of the doubt that festered within him. "It will stand. The Empire will stand." His words were a reassurance, perhaps even to himself. He had to believe it—there was no other option. Not now, not with everything at stake.

Her gaze shifted towards his daughter, and Derix felt a slight flicker of discomfort, though he masked it well. Ixen, ever observant, met Onrai's eyes without flinching, but there was a tension in the air, thick and almost palpable. She knew this visit wasn't a mere courtesy call.

"You're right," Derix responded to Onrai's assertion about the state of their world. "The situation is... precarious. Solipsis's absence is undeniable, but the infrastructure here—the loyalty of those who remain—is far more solid than you may realize. You only need to look at the networks we've cultivated. Their devotion runs deeper than mere politics."

There was a threat, veiled in Onrai's calm tone, yet it was clear: something had to change. The past wasn't enough to sustain them. Derix could feel the pulse of her concern, but he could've sworn he saw the slightest trace of disbelief flicker in her eyes when she spoke of the disappearance of Solipsis.

Ixen's lips curled into a sly grin at Onrai's words, and she couldn't resist adding her own commentary. "Yes, because relying on an absentee emperor's dwindling followers worked so well for the Empire the last time." She stepped forward with a mockingly respectful bow. "But please, do enlighten us. How exactly do you plan on solving that problem?"

Derix shot her a sharp look, but his daughter merely raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed by the entity's subtle manipulations. Onrai's power was undeniable, but Ixen, with her sharp wit and careful control, was no stranger to the games of power.
Onrai's voice shifted, and Derix listened intently.

That, and we need to talk about your place in the new order of things

The finality in her words caught his attention, but not in the way he'd hoped. Onrai had always been a master of timing and subtlety, but now, her intentions were unclear.

He straightened, his hands coming together as he regarded her with a steady, if wary, expression. "The order will survive. It must." But whether he meant the Church, the Empire, or his own plans, the ambiguity hung in the air like the shadow of a coming storm.

Ixen's voice cut in again, laced with a hint of amusement, as she turned to exit the room. "Let's hope you're right, Father. After all, who could resist a new order?" With that, she shot a brief, sardonic glance at Onrai before slipping through the door, her heels echoing down the corridor.

As the door clicked shut behind her, Derix exhaled sharply, his expression hardening as he returned his focus to Onrai. "We both know why you're here, Onrai. Speak your mind."

 

[Onrai]

Derix Tirall

"The Empire only stands as long as people are willing to make it stand." Onrai said. Speculatory statements abounded within her mind, more and more broken with every turn, leaving only the steps ever closer to a conclusive decision. Deep within his confident facade, she senses the barest speck of doubt. For one so fanatic as to throw himself in the deepest depths of the Dark Side to possess such was rare indeed - a moment of introspection. Derix brought up the loyalty of the people who were loyal, but she needed to get clarification. "Loyal to the Empire, or loyal to Solipsis? One is smart, the other is more foolish than Tilotny."

And so, the daughter chose to interject herself into things. Onrai had never interacted with her before, but the woman did need to know a level of manners. "Decimus. Moridin. Vornskr. Vulcanus. I knew more about absentee emperors before you were born. The solution is simple: to adjust ourselves to the reality of new leadership and keep the Empire proceeding onwards on its given and intended course: defeat of the Galactic Alliance." That was what everyone stood for, allegedly, wasn't it?

She waited, observing the reaction between father and daughter before Ixen left the room and headed down the corridor in question. Derix turned to her, asking for her to speak her mind. Whether that would be to his benefit or not was another question entirely.

"Ignoring what I said I came here to do, I want to salvage what's left of the Church of the Dark Side." She said plainly. "Solipsis is dead, which means the consistency of its intended message to the populus is gone. Both Sularen and Valek are secular leaders, who don't view the existence of a dedicated religious component of the Empire as important - or desirable. They can and will seek to remove the artificial construct of the Church from the Imperial schema. That said, I don't necessarily think such deserves dismantling, so perhaps it should be... reoriented along a more truthful line."

She paused, looking at the abomination being reborn within the tube.

"What do you know about the origin of the galaxy and its species?"

 

[Derix Tirall]

Onrai

Derix stood before the stasis tube, his expression a study in restrained power and unwavering conviction. The abomination suspended within writhed faintly, as though stirred by the tension in the room. It was grotesque—a symbol of perverse creation, its form shifting subtly under the dim light. Derix's hands clenched behind his back, the faintest flicker of delight passing through his gaze.

He turned to Onrai, his voice low, measured. "The Church is not some experiment, some malleable thing to be reshaped at whim. It is a monument to Solipsis and his vision—a vision I helped craft, brick by brick, word by word. To abandon that now would be to abandon the foundation of our power."

But as he spoke, the creature in the tube began to change. Its twisted limbs extended, its malformed body taking on something closer to a humanoid shape. Flesh smoothed, scars and blemishes fading into a sleek, unsettling symmetry. It was as though the thing were responding to the energy in the room, the clash of ideologies, the tension between Derix's resolve and the creeping doubt he fought to suppress.

Derix's words faltered as he noticed the transformation. A faint hum filled the air, the tube's containment systems straining to adapt to the shift. His lips pressed into a thin line, outwardly portraying control, yet his mind churned. "Fascinating" he muttered, more to himself than to Onrai. His gaze snapped back to her, suspicion and curiosity warring in his eyes.

"The Church, the Empire, Solipsis—they are unchanging truths," he declared, louder now, as though to convince himself. "The faithful do not need reorientation; they need direction. Discipline. To cast doubt on the image of the Dark Voice, even in death, risks shattering the unity he forged."

And yet, the creature continued to shift. Its face began to take form—no longer the grotesque, misshapen mass it had been, but something eerily reminiscent of a human visage. It was a mockery of evolution, a perverse mirror to the changes stirring within Derix's own mind. The symbolic weight of the transformation was not lost on him, though he would never admit it. Not yet.

Turning sharply, he addressed Onrai, his voice cutting through the hum of the lab's machinery. "Do not mistake my caution for weakness, Onrai. The Church endures because it is built on unshakable truths. If you have come here to sow doubt, you will find I am far less malleable than my experiments."

But his gaze lingered on the shifting form within the tube. Its grotesque metamorphosis mirrored his inner struggle—between clinging to Solipsis's legacy and acknowledging that the future demanded something new. For a moment, the lab was silent, save for the soft sound of the abomination's breathing—unnatural, steady, and growing stronger.

Her final question drew a faint, amused chuckle from him. "The origin of the galaxy and its species?" He arched an eyebrow, his tone both curious and faintly mocking. "A vast topic, even for someone of your... unique nature. I know the myths, the stories passed down through the Sith archives. The Rakata, the Celestials, the wars that tore the stars apart long before we rose to claim them. But if you're asking what I believe..."
"I've read ancient texts, studied the religious dogma and I can't help but feel that we are born of chaos, and shaped by conflict. The first beings to wield the Force were born into strife, molded by it. Perhaps that is the truth of all things—that creation itself demands sacrifice. Struggle. Domination."

He turned his head slightly toward her, though his eyes remained fixed on the creature. "Solipsis understood that. His message, his Church, was built on it. And while you suggest reorientation, I would ask this—does the truth you propose embrace that reality, or seek to soften it?"

The abomination opened its eyes then, glowing faintly in the dim laboratory light. It was a symbolic act of awakening, a mirror to Derix's own confrontation with Onrai's words. Here was new life, and potentially, new possibilities.

 

[Onrai]

Tython
Derix Tirall

"You're at least right that the Church is not an experiment." Onrai said, observing the maleficent experiment, shapecrafted and malformed as it was within the tube. She could tell that Derix was taking satisfaction at the processes, alchemical and otherwise, that were being used to forged the creature floating before the both of them. "Kaigann Fossk built it for use as a tool. A means by which he could maintain the non-secular among the body of the Empire. The same way the flawed faith of the Mawites was forged through corruptions of ancient truths." The use of Solipsis's name - the name he had been given by his parents many moons ago - was deliberate, a verbal indication as to the non-presence of the man as it currently stood, the lack of what he controlled.

She continued to observe the construct in the tube, pondering, perhaps as her own shadowed form reshaped itself. Green flesh, or what seemed like it, grew visible as the shadows peeled themselves away from the woman, exposing an ethereal being. The hair, the visage, was plain even as the shadow congealed into the dress the female form held present. Barefoot, it continued to observe, the visage of Via once more attentive to Derix's comments.

"To presume any of the three are unchanging, or for that matter, truthful, is naivety of the highest form. The conclave we were all drawn to was proof of that - nor would it be fair to claim the former Emperor was the same man he was before his return to the world of the living." She looked down at her hand, as though it were somehow a new part of her body, regrown or otherwise integrated into a body that may or may not have been. "The unity has already been shattered. The conflict between yourself and Lady Keto, for example, over dominion of the Deep Core was more than evidence of that, as was the struggle between Valek and Sully. I would not blanket myself in the illusion of our false equilibrium."

Further the construct changed. Further it shifted, becoming almost parodic in form, a near-mimic whose features resembled the one who had transmuted it from its prior flesh.

"The unshakability of the Church is but a base falsehood - it was merely formed through the coopting of prior Sith cults, working off the ancient Sith beliefs in dominion and power. You were a leader of a larger portion of the Imperial Remnant who the fallen Jedi understood would be a means of bolstering his ever-developing band of Mawite warlords. I was reached out to as well - both when the Maw was manifested and when Solipsis chose to pursue Imperial ambitions. Religion could not be a coercion when loyalty and opportunity were blatant. As for the truth..."

She breathed in and gave an exhale far louder than it seemingly appeared to be, the sound of the breath loud enough to audibly resonate through the laboratory room itself.

"The truth is that Sith doctrine in and of itself was crafted by a rebel against the dark gods who granted him power. Not the religion of the ancient Reds, but someone whose rationalism would one day spread to those who conquered their inferiors and reseeded his mandates. To his apparent end, he fought them. No, Derix, I haven't come here to sow doubt." She said.

"I've come here to tell you the truth."

Onrai listened even as the crackle of shadow grew visible over her manifested form. She heard Derix speak about what he knew of the myths and stories, what his ultimate beliefs yet were. More and more the shadow seemed to infuse itself into her Vian form. So it was he ended his elaboration with an inquiry, a question of his own, to which she responded with an enigmatic statement, the faintest shift of her ethereal quality reinvigorated into her voice on occasion.

"I didn't ask you what you believed - I asked what you know."

The abomination awoke. Onrai looked at it, smirked, the unnatural voice beginning to further swell over the soothing Vian tone. "Truth has to embrace reality, hence why it must be the foundation of religious schema within the Empire. What I offer is no more and no less the reality - that many of us are pawns in a conflict spawning back to the Maker's first impetus to create the galaxy we call home. That there are beings of unfathomable malevolence who desire total dominion over all forms of life. Beings who view mortals as puerile tulpas, used to satisfy their own pleasures and perversions."

She eyed Derix, the shadow having once more ensconced her entire form. "And if perhaps you have your doubts on this, I would be more than glad to show you the truth personally once we head for the Old City."

 

[Derix Tirall]

Onrai

Derix Tirall's expression hardened as Onrai's words echoed through the chamber. The faint satisfaction he had taken from observing the creature in the tank was replaced by a more solemn intensity. His gauntleted fingers tightened against the edge of the console, a physical manifestation of the control he wielded—and the control he refused to relinquish.

"The Church is no experiment," he said, his voice carrying the weight of authority. "It is the embodiment of stability, the foundation upon which this Empire stands. Without it, there would be no order—only chaos. Faith, manipulated or genuine, binds those who would otherwise fracture under the weight of their own ambition. Fossk may have built it as a tool, but it is a tool I have reforged into something greater. A necessary institution, not a fleeting convenience."

His eyes flicked to the shifting form of Onrai, studying the transformation as though it were a challenge she had laid before him. If he was perturbed by her display, he did not show it. Instead, he allowed a small, deliberate pause before continuing.

"You speak of illusions, of unity already shattered, but you misunderstand the Church's purpose. It is not meant to unify those of ambition, nor does it rely on false equilibrium. It is a tether for the masses, a bulwark against the entropy that consumes all without guidance. What you dismiss as coopted cults and borrowed truths, I call pragmatism. The Church does not need to be pure; it needs to be effective."

He gestured subtly toward the experiment, its grotesque form rippling within the tank. "Much like this creature, the Church is an amalgamation of imperfect parts, shaped and refined to serve its purpose. It may not be pretty, but it is powerful. And that power is not so easily unshaken, despite what you suggest."

As her words turned to the origins of Sith doctrine and rebellion against the gods, his expression darkened, but only slightly. "Rebellion may have birthed doctrine, but rebellion without purpose is folly. The Church does not rebel against the dark gods; it acknowledges their existence, their influence, and uses it to our advantage. The gods serve the Church, just as they serve the Empire, whether they know it or not.

The stirrings of the creature within the tank drew his attention again, and for a moment, he watched it as though it were an extension of his own will. "You claim to offer truth," he said, returning his gaze to Onrai, "but truth is often a weapon wielded by those with an agenda. You tell me of ancient conflicts and malevolent beings, but these are myths as much as they are realities. And myths, like faith, can be shaped to serve a greater purpose."

He straightened, folding his hands behind his back. "If your truth is to hold value, it must strengthen the Church, not weaken it. If it seeks to tear down what I have built, then it is no truth at all, but sedition dressed in philosophical robes. I will hear your truth, Onrai, but make no mistake—I will judge it. And if it proves unworthy, I will cast it aside."

His tone softened, almost imperceptibly. "For now, we will see what the Old City holds. Perhaps it will reveal more than either of us expects."

 

[Onrai]

Tython
Derix Tirall

"Do not mistake my disdain for the structure of the Church as doubt of the necessity of whatever it offers." Onrai responded, equally authoritative if not more so. "The Immortal Gods of the Sith did not receive the worship of their followers purely through fear. Mortals have a need, a craving to supplicate themselves to something. To someone. Unfortunately, many people are willing to so gleefully abuse such faith... the Zambrano cult, which once existed upon the ruined world of Panatha, and which still exists this day in the domains of the Sith, is an example of that."

Onrai observed the creature once more, a hand and false flesh rippling as it touched the glass, mimicking for the barest moment the creature within the grotesque vat.

"The Church is only as effective as its core doctrine, and that doctrine must be based upon the truth, no matter how bitter it may yet be. When the masses believe in truth, they are more effective than a legion of the finest battle droids." She said. "I have a legion of millions, who have served me faithfully since the fall of the first Empire post-Gulag, whose faith has been built only around the truth, which has allowed them to stand strong past many inferiors."

As Derix turned to the abomination's maleficence, she listened and observed. "Faith without works is dead, hence the need for the Church to remain, refined, in a position where it can still do such deeds." She observed his dismissal of the Gods with but a laugh as he suggested they served the Church. "Sithlan and his ilk serve none but themselves, and even then, they are readily turned on one another. A free mortal does not struggle to escape prison. The influence of these maleficent beings is not something to be enjoyed."

Onrai stood and listened to the criticism Derix possessed insofar as the schema she had yet brought forth. Her response was plain, straightforward, and showcased nary a doubt. "My agenda has been as it has always been: to be honest even to those who wish not to hear it. I was no less to Solipsis before he left, and I will be no less to the people who have served me loyally longer than the Empire has existed, let alone those outside my domain. I speak in history, not in myth - in objectives, not subjectives. Whether someone accepts this or not is their decision, but the strong acknowledge and build around reality as opposed to rejection of it."

A hand extended, an offer for Derix to place his own grasp in her own. Were he to take such, their journey to the ruins of the Old City could yet begin.

 

[Derix Tirall]

Onrai

Tirall's lips tightened at Onrai's words, her disdain for the Church of the Dark Side striking a nerve buried deep within him. For all his brilliance, all his power, the vestiges of faith still clung to him, like shadows cast by a dying sun. He turned his gaze to her, the weight of his conviction pressing into the air.

"You underestimate what faith can do," Derix began, his voice steady but carrying the faint tremor of someone wrestling with his own beliefs. "Even now, as I stand before you, the echoes of Solipsis' teachings still whisper in my mind. For years, I believed his vision to be truth. Not the hollow truths of the Immortal Gods or the false deities of old, but a purpose so grand, so absolute, that it demanded devotion."

He stepped closer to the vat, his gaze lingering on the grotesque figure within. It was a reflection of himself—a creation that had surpassed its origins, but one still shackled by the intentions of its maker. His voice lowered, tinged with bitterness.

"Solipsis promised ascension. A galaxy cleansed of weakness. A people united under the banner of the Dark Side's purity. In my arrogance, I believed I could use his doctrine as a weapon, a tool to bring order to chaos. But in wielding it, I became ensnared. His truths were my truths. His vision became mine. I drank from the cup willingly, Onrai, and now I choke on its poison."

Tirall turned to face her fully, his expression one of raw defiance tempered by self-awareness.

"You say the Church must be refined, its doctrine rooted in truth. Perhaps you are right. But do not mistake my doubts for weakness. Faith is a fire—it can illuminate, or it can burn. The question is not whether the fire is pure, but whether it serves its purpose. Solipsis' vision has left scars upon me, but it has also taught me this: faith, when tempered by will and purpose, can move entire galaxies." He gestured toward the abomination, i's malice rippling through the air like a dark tide.

"Do you think this creature is devoid of faith? It is not. It is bound by its belief in me, in my command. And through that belief, it becomes a tool—a weapon capable of reshaping the stars. Yet even it cannot escape its purpose. Just as I cannot escape the echoes of Solipsis. Not yet."

Tirall's tone softened, though his resolve remained firm.

"You speak of bitter truths, of stripping away illusion to reveal reality. I know the appeal of such a path, but you cannot simply tear away faith without leaving something in its place. The masses will always crave purpose, as will those who lead them. If the Church is to endure, it must evolve—not into a monument to honesty, but into a forge that tempers belief into power."

He paused, his gaze locking with hers.

"I am not yet free of Solipsis' shadow. Perhaps I never will be. But if you seek to help me shake it off, Onrai, then show me a greater purpose. Give me a faith worth believing in. Until then, I will wield the Church as I always have—a tool for control, a means to an end. And I will do so in Solipsis' name, for his vision, flawed as it was, still burns within me."

He did not extend his hand to hers, but his stance shifted, a subtle indication of willingness to listen, to learn. His journey into the ruins of the Old City would not merely be a descent into history, but perhaps a step toward breaking free from the chains of his own faith.

 

[Onrai]

Tython
Derix Tirall

"On the contrary." Onrai replied. "I know more of what faith can do than anyone else in this Empire - and you wouldn't be the first who was swept up in blind devotion to their lords and lieges." Onrai, in her former mortal guise, was more than aware of the consequences that wasting time supplicating to uncaring lieges could bring. Her time as a Sith had been repeatedly undercut through a willingness to bend the knee to such people. For what it was worth, Derix's comments regarding how Solipsis had secured his own devotion in the idea of the church made her pity him.

"The fire's purpose must be purity." She said, observing the abomination. "An impure fire burns poorly, for whatever aims it is yet directed towards. The faith of my own followers burns purely, and such faith has allowed me to turn worlds from devastated cesspits to veritable paradises. That fire ensured the temple - ensured this world - remained safe from the predations of the maleficent Galactic Alliance and the foolish Jedi who cling to them." She eyed the abomination, the cruelly crafted construct peering back at her from behind the glass. "Its faith can be used - and abused. Such is up to you - and whoever may succeed you one day."

Derix continued, and Onrai listened, waiting for him to finish before she concluded. "Belief tempered into power is... doable. If you want a purpose greater than that which Solipsis impressed upon you, I will give you exactly that, and once our business is concluded in the Old City, you will see much more than you would have ever cared to realize." The hand retracted, the journey began to the ruins of the Old City.

-

Tython, the Old City

The ruins of the ancient city grew ever more prominent as they drew closer. Soon enough, whatever shuttle they had taken would yet land, and the two beings would yet enter into the ruination within. Towering structures abandoned to the elements still stayed strong and surprisingly resolute given the city's tremendous age.

"An Infernal Gate leading to the worlds claimed by the Immortal Gods of the Sith was placed deep into the Abyss of Ruh. It was used to bring forth a host of abominations who slaughtered the original residents of this city, which was razed to the ground as this new city was built upon it. Eventually, through guile, the abominations were destroyed or sent back where they came from. Myself and the former Emperor's seer, the one known as Halsia Myr, traveled to the world the creatures came from - a microcosm of the agony and suffering which the Gods so desire to instill on the galaxy." She elaborated on the background of the city in question as they headed further within.

"But we're not here for that. We're here for what the Gree planted on this world countless lifetimes ago."

 

[Derix Tirall]

Onrai

Derix Tirall followed Onrai with measured steps, his gaze sweeping over the ruins of the Old City as her words painted a vivid picture of its tumultuous past. The air here was thick with history, heavy with the echoes of a forgotten war, and yet the dark promise of what lay beneath stirred something within him—curiosity, yes, but also a faint ember of unease.

"The Gree," Derix mused, his voice low and contemplative as they descended deeper into the ancient city. "A people of unfathomable brilliance, their mastery of technology rivaled only by their enigmatic designs. For all their creations, they were not driven by faith, were they? No gods to supplicate to. Only logic, order, and the endless pursuit of knowledge."

He turned his head slightly to glance at Onrai, his tone shifting to one of veiled skepticism. "You invoke the purity of faith, and yet here we are, chasing the relics of a civilization that thrived without it. Perhaps the lesson lies not in the fire's purity, but in its containment. The Gree built marvels because they harnessed their fire. They did not let it consume them."

The ground beneath his boots gave way to ancient stone as they approached what remained of a towering structure, its facade scarred by millennia of decay but still standing defiantly. Derix's eyes narrowed as Onrai spoke of the Infernal Gate, the abominations it unleashed, and the microcosm of agony tied to the Immortal Gods of the Sith. His fingers traced the hilt of his lightsaber, a gesture more instinctive than deliberate.

"And yet the Gods still crave devotion," he said, his voice sharper now. "What is it that compels beings of such power to demand worship from creatures so far beneath them? Is it their immortality that leaves them hollow, desperate for validation? Or is it their own impurity, their inability to exist without the adoration of those they despise?"

Derix exhaled, his hand dropping back to his side. The weight of his own words hung in the air, heavy with the residue of his lingering doubts. As much as he resented Solipsis' shadow, he could not deny the hold it still had on him. Onrai's promise of a greater purpose was tantalizing, but he remained wary.

"Show me what the Gree left behind, Onrai," he said finally, his tone a mixture of command and curiosity. "Show me this purpose you claim to offer. But know this—if it is merely another chain, another yoke disguised as freedom, I will break it as I have broken all others."

His eyes flickered to the towering ruins once more, their journey leading them deeper into the heart of the Old City. Whatever lay ahead, Derix would face it not as a blind follower, but as one who had endured the fire and emerged tempered—scarred, but unbroken.

 

[Onrai]

Tython, the Old City
Derix Tirall

"On the contrary." She said as the duo further penetrated through the ancient, abandoned edifices of the forgotten city. "The Gree were one of the first races created when the galaxy was formed, and they served the Celestials - and worshipped the one who had sent them. The Gree gateways were inferior to those of the Kwa, but were more ergonomic to work with. After the Celestials departed and the Gree fought with the Rakata, however, their society rotted, decayed to the point where they are lucky to be able to remember how to make a Hypergate work at all." A soft laugh came from the shade's nearly nonexistent lips. "Fortunately, I and my followers are not so easily atrophied."

As they headed further into the towering structure, within whose depths the Hypergate had been hidden, she gave a malignant smile. "Chasing the relics of a civilization that abandoned it, not thrived without it. The Gree collapsed because of the galaxy's abandonment of faith in their apathetic creator, nor their desire to pay heed to those who had been put in place to watch over them. Instead, they listened to the malicious whispers of those outliers, cast from the Maker's presence so long ago - beings whose own saccharine words twisted those lesser, yet comparable to them into the instruments of the galaxy's ruination." The light grew darker, and soon enough the only thing Derix would see of Onrai was her eyes, the pale orbs floating as though they were being held by another. "Fortunately, most of those creatures have been slain - either at the hands of one another, of themselves, or more... intrepid individuals."

Onrai gave a soft sigh that seemed to resonate through a space much larger than the tunnel within which the two were walking. "The Immortal Gods of the Sith were once Celestial beings. They served the creator of all things - the one who has long since abandoned the galaxy. And eventually, pride turned to avarice, avarice turned to hatred, and hatred turned to rebellion against the one they served. They live to defile, live to twist mortals away from their original places within the galaxy and puppeteer them as pernicious playthings. I once encountered a Sith woman who was possessed by one of their subordinates, one that had gnawed its way deeply into her soul." They had seemingly entered another room from the sound of their footsteps. "She is... no longer a threat. Insofar as the Seven go, those they tempted, the spawn and the spawn of the spawn of the Celestials, soon turned against them in lesser rebellions emulative of their own. Each being driven by their agenda. Some were redeemed in the eyes of their forebears. Most have been destroyed beyond all means of return. A few yet lurk in the dark places - the Grey Swallowing, the Void Horror, and the dead-yet-not-dead Kopa Khan, still eternally autophagic in his dead living. The survivors among the Celestials in the galaxy did a remarkable job cleaning up the mess they allowed to happen."

Onrai's motion stopped. "The purpose I offer you is the only universal truth - that which the teachings of the Dark Side as you know them came from, that which strove the worshippers of the Goddess of the Pius Dea, of Vahl, of Via, of others to do as they did. That we are to battle against these pernicious beings, as the galaxy belongs to us as the Architects of our own destiny, not string-puppets to be toyed with by fickle maleficars." The sound of two hands clapping resonated throughout the room. A second or two later, a great plume of light illuminated the chamber - revealing a circular construct, stonelike in structure. Its consoles flared to life, though the slot a given device was supposed to be installed in appeared to be missing. From what little was illuminated of Onrai's face, she seemed pleased - happy even, as a pair of Darktroopers stepped through the portal, kneeling and bowing to her before she motioned them to rise.

"You have proven the realization of Ord Mantell's greatest construct - but now, let us make our return." The Darktroopers were first through the gateway, and as Onrai stepped forward towards the swirling edifice of glow, she turned to look back at Derix. "Shall we?"