Dark Tidings

[Isla Ashen]

​

Freedom.

It was still very odd to Isla Ashen to move about at will, where the eyes of the First Order did not follow. But now, she’d had a taste of it, and it was not something she would ever give away again. Standing here on an ancient Sith world, she could not even imagine a life back on Dosuun. Isla had taken the very first hand offered to her -- back when she was a simple girl. Little did she know that her former ways would not lead her to the power she desired. Now, she was older and wiser… and she was learning to harness a new sense of strength.

Isla had found the secret.

The fiery-haired woman had first experienced the darkness on Monastery, where she had touched a tapestry that had been woven of a shadowy power. For a short time, this dark ghost had inhabited her body. And though she had played a part in the artifact’s destruction… the memories of this power had stayed with her. Long nights had passed since then, and dreams of this tapestry haunted her. She remembered every thread, it was almost like they were still bound to her very existence.

Isla had followed the call of darkness away from Dosuun, and away from the Ren. Here on Ziost she would forge her new identity, she would start life anew. Like Lumiya before her, she sought to craft a unique weapon upon this sacred soil. And if she was very lucky, she would locate the dark teachings of this Sith lady that she had come to admire. Perched on a rocky cliff, she looked down at the stony valley below. For the moment, it was quite empty and quiet. However, she hoped that there would soon be a transport in this spot.

Secretly, she had sent word to [member="Zmej Ren"] -- coordinates to this place. Isla had included no name, and sent this message encrypted. She did not want to risk exposure completely. However, only time would tell if the young Ren would arrive, or if she had ignored the message completely. Isla trusted very few, but the young blonde was one such person. And if she could lead the girl away, then all the better…

 

[Zmej Ren]

A ghostly shadow emerged from the dark skies like a great predatory bird in search of prey. Black wings swooped upwards and retracted as the metal eagle’s body kissed the cold ground, stirring up an impenetrable cloud of dust. With the newfound stillness came silence, followed by a mechanical hiss that opened the shuttle’s belly and spat out a boarding ramp. Its edge dug into the rocky surface of Ziost with a thundering echo filling the entire valley. Red lights within the beast’s stomach flickered; something moved within. A shape emerged, abandoning the ship’s warmth and stepping into the cold, desolate world no being in their right mind would ever visit lest they desired to unearth the dead and their power. Ghosts of old could still be heard if one listened to the Force and the graveyard of ancient Sith civilizations still housed many dark secrets to this very day.

Power wasn’t the real motivator behind Zmej Ren’s visit.

Although more than willing to present new artifacts to Sieger Ren, the nature of her visit was a personal one. Someone who must have known her had sent unsigned coordinates addressed to her person. Nothing more, nothing less. The mysterious message spelled a trap. Coming from a dead world positioned between the newly formed Sith empire and their Jedi enemies, it ensured the Ren would be cut off from her allies if she decided to come. Zmej’s arrival on Ziost wasn’t a by-product of impulsive recklessness though. She came prepared, knowledgeable of the land and native dangers, armed and ready to tackle any and all challenges awaiting her presence.

Glowing red, the visor of her helmet slowly turned around, analysing the surroundings in search for answers. The barren rock offered none – only the occasional gust of wind tried to tear off the armorweave cloak draped around her shoulders, failing miserably. Plate armour blacker than her heart covered every inch of the knight’s body, several weapons dangled from her hip, yet all paled in comparison to her anger smouldering within, threatening to flare up into a raging inferno.

The Supreme Leader’s Hand daringly raised her phrik fist in challenge, gaze never leaving the surrounding rocks and cliffs. Although unable to spot anyone, she felt another being’s eyes watching her every move. When she called out to the mysterious observer, the modulated sound that came from her helmet reverberated throughout the gulch, ricocheting between walls of stone; a voice without a single bit of humanity left, completely featureless and artificial.

“Hey! I know you’re watching. Why don’t you come out and show yourself?”



[member="Isla Ashen"]

 

[Isla Ashen]

Sinking back, Isla’s emerald orbs turned skyward. Gray clouds above seemed to open up to allow a transport to pass through. The sleek craft contrasted against the landscape of jagged rock. The flame-haired woman felt a cold smile form on her lips, but she pulled her dark hood up to hide it. For a moment, she remained still and silent – watching closely as the ramp lowered and the sole occupant exited.

Though the young blonde was clad in a full armor, there was no mistaking.

A mechanical voice boomed out. Isla’s gaze narrowed slightly. It was a shame to see Zmej this way – fearless, but faceless. The Ren had attempted to tame Isla this way, but she had never taken to the practice of wearing such a mask. There was no use hiding.

Slowly, Isla rose to her full height; her dark form would now be visible atop the cliff. Her hood turned down, looking at Zmej below. Would the younger woman know immediately that it was her? With her force presence reduced, it would likely be difficult to tell. Her disappearance from Dosuun had been quite sudden, would the young Ren find fault in her choice to leave the Supreme Leader's service? There was only one way to know for sure. Leaping down, she let the dark side course through her then, and she landed gracefully. Still a few meters away, she let the hood drop to her shoulders.

The flame-red hair would be a dead giveaway.

“We meet again, sister.” Isla said, her low tone carrying across to Zmej.

[member="Zmej Ren"]

 

[Zmej Ren]

It did not take long for the observer to answer Zmej’s demand. Both hands went for the anti-material rifle as the figure rose up from cover, ready to unleash hell should the situation call for it. An easy target; Zmej’s integrated HUD instantly locked on to the shape and awaited one final input necessary to end the encounter. She did not pull the trigger though, intrigued by the mystery and spotting a glimpse of familiarity beneath the stranger’s hood. This inkling proved completely right immediately after. A silent gasp came from beneath the helmet as the stranger’s shadowy hood fell down and in front of Zmej Ren stood none other than Isla Ashen. Wide eyed, the dumbfounded blonde stared at her in disbelief, lowering her weapon. Booted feet cautiously took a step back, reaching the shuttle’s ramp.

Many questions raced through Zmej’s head. She had expected something along the lines of Samka or Kyrel hoping to lure her into an ambush due to internal conflicts and power struggles among Sieger’s children. Seeing the long lost Isla came as a complete surprise, albeit a pleasant one. Some things could never be lost in the past and Zmej definitely did not forget Isla’s part in her promotion to knight. Sensing potential for an alliance that could assassinate and replace the incompetent Ren leadership, Zmej replied to Isla’s unveiling in kind.

Hissing venomously, the pressurized seal gave away and unmasked her as the expressionless mask retracted, showing the blonde’s eyes of flaming gold. Zmej’s yellow sight silently stared at Isla, trailing across her form in search of weapons and utility tools. Even though there was no aggressive intent on the fair-haired knight’s part, it was something she had learned to do. Once her sharp gaze settled upon the red-head’s face, a wolfish grin ripped across the Hand’s expression. Propping the heavy rifle against a formation of rocks, the Ren finally spoke.

“Isla Ashen. What have you been up to? You have a strange way of contacting your fellow Ren.”

Slow and carefully measured steps forward brought Zmej closer. Her brow furrowed in an inquisitive frown.

“Why all the secrecy?”


[member="Isla Ashen"]

 

[Isla Ashen]

Confident steps brought the flame-haired woman towards Zmej. The Ren had weapons visible, but Isla was modestly armed with a saber and a couple of knives. Unlike her sister, she did not wear durable armor – but simple cloth and leather. Her smile remained, watching as the young woman propped her weapon up against the wall of the cliff.

While others might have provided a greeting in the form of an embrace or handshake, Isla gave neither. It wasn’t her intention to be rude, but she had never been one to display affection, no matter how platonic. But while her stony expression may not have betrayed much, she was pleased to see Zmej.

“Secrecy is required,” She said quietly, “For I am no longer your fellow Ren.”

Her emerald eyes matched the yellow orbs of Zmej. Tall strides brought her forward.

“I have discovered my true path – and it brought me here.” She gestured to the mountains. “It is a most ancient place. A Sith world.” The way she spoke this word hinted at respect. “Tell me, are you still satisfied to be a servant of the Supreme Leader?”

Indeed… she was curious.

[member="Zmej Ren"]

 

[Zmej Ren]

Isla’s revelation came like a cold shower, yet failed to elicit any visible reaction from the loyal Ren. Those sensitive to the Force would feel the young blonde’s anger spike up still. She had always seen Isla as one of the most distinguished Ren. Worst of all, Zmej owed Isla. Stealing Darth Sidious’ Book of Anger from the Sith had been a true trial of skill, one she wouldn’t have passed without the supervising Ren’s help. Although facing a traitor, Zmej wasn’t one to forget a favour, and thus did not lift a finger to apprehend the flame-haired woman. Someone else would have to do it. Knowing the state of Ren though, the probability of others taking action neared zero. That meant yet another rogue Ren running around, a living proof of the First Order’s complacency.

The question did not catch her by surprise, even if Zmej took her sweet time to answer. Before speaking up, the fair-haired teenager pulled out a pack of cigarras and retrieved one cylinder of finely cut tabac with her lips.

“I am. Hail Sieger.” Zmej informally replied with a smile, nodding.

A faithful servant to the Supreme Leader, Zmej had never questioned his orders, blindly following the man’s word to the letter. But her loyalty did not extend to others – too ambitious for her own good, she’d do anything to reach the top, now held by the current Ren leadership. Lighting up the cigarra and taking a puff, Sieger’s Daughter blinked and grinned.

“But my ambitions run higher than being a knight, Isla. You know that.”

Master of Ren. Zmej needed the prestige that came with the rank; she wanted to bask in fame and glory, wage bloody wars against opposing ideologies and rob the Sith of all power.

“Admitting treason right in front of the Supreme Leader’s Hand takes some karking balls. How fortunate that I owe you and the First Order doesn’t care who comes and goes anymore. Did you know our nation and Graf’s traitors are now allies? That we have even allied ourselves with some pathetic Jedi cult and brokered ceasefire with the broken Alliance? Why, instead of crushing our weakened enemies and recovering Sith relics in Sieger’s name, we follow Kaine and help his empire grow.”

A long puff, the cigar’s tip burned in bright amber, just like the woman’s anger. She shook uncontrollably, fist clenched, and those two sickly sulphur hued eyes met Isla’s green.

“General Tal Ashen, wasn’t he an ancestor of yours? Don’t you feel the call of your Imperial blood? Join me, Isla. Together, we can kill Vader’s insecure fanboy and that blue haired queen and take their place. We'll eliminate all weakness in our order, similarly to the Sith of old.”

Ironic they treaded upon a Sith world, almost as if the ghosts of the past wished to validate the Ren's words.

“They used to kill the weak and sickly. It may seem cruel. But it was, after all, an act of immense kindness to those weaklings themselves. How they would have suffered had they lived... and most importantly, it was healthy for the race and nation. How greatly it contributed to Sith soundness and how successful was Sith history! We'd be committing an offence against the nation and mankind if we didn't get rid of undesirable elements. We're responsible for the happiness of the nation and of the whole of mankind. For the prosperity of the whole.”


[member="Isla Ashen"]

 

[Isla Ashen]

Isla knew of Zmej’s aspirations, and it was quite unfortunate that she would never reach those heights – not as a member of the Ren. Taking a couple of steps forward, she watched as the end of the blonde’s cigar lit up. Soon the air around them was scented with smoke.

“Treason.” She repeated this word quietly, and with a smirk that curled her lips at the end.

Perhaps to the Supreme Leader it would be considered treason, but to Isla it was simply regaining something the First Order had tried to steal away. But Zmej’s colorful description of current events made Isla more confident in her choice to run. The dark clouds above them were churning, threatening to spill a cold rain down upon them. She had allowed Zmej to voice her anger freely; in the end… it would only help her cause.

“Come,” Motioning for the young Ren to follow, Isla began to move towards the shelter of a cave. “I do not desire power within the Order, for they cannot offer what I seek – and you as well. If your aspirations run as high as you say, then you will never reach your goal as a Ren… for a shadow of Sieger Ren can only reach so far.”

She canted her head to the side, fixing a stony glance at Zmej.

“Do you think they would allow you to become powerful enough to eliminate the Supreme Leader himself?” Isla posed the question with interest, but gave Zmej little time to answer. “They will not.”

Of course, Isla knew Zmej’s affection for the Supreme Leader ran deep. But she needed to figure out for herself that she was merely a puppet, there to serve her dark master. Reaching down, she pulled a light rod from her belt and ignited it. The walls of the cave inside were illuminated, revealing an opening within that went into the belly of the mountain.

“If you want true darkness, then follow me. We shall discover secrets of these… Sith of old.”

[member="Zmej Ren"]

 

[Zmej Ren]

Somewhere far away, thunder roared in announcement of incoming storm. Zmej’s blank gaze turned towards the darkened skies, taking in the richly scented smoke one last time before seizing the stub between her gauntleted fingers and absent-mindedly rolling it between her thumb and index finger. Isla’s words rang through her head and however unpleasant it was, Zmej recognized the truth in her message. Denying it any further would accomplish nothing at all; while the fair-haired teenager had no problem with life in servitude as her love for the Supreme Leader ran deep, she despised the notion of obeying her weak superiors who no longer answered to the Sieger’s will. Especially Kyrel. He was but a clown wearing Darth Vader’s armour, a mascot. His utter lack of authority and inability to lead drove the blonde crazy. Sieger’s children were falling apart under Kyrel’s leadership, divided instead of united. They deserved better. A strong, ruthless leader, everything Kyrel was not.

Empty would be the right word to describe Zmej’s state. Anger was all she had left. The smouldering stub crumbled between the Ren’s fingers as she clenched her fist tight again, entire arm shaking with desire to weave an invisible rope around the flame-haired woman’s neck and end the source of this dilemma. Killing her would have solved nothing aside from appeasing her anger for a while though – she realized that all too well and thus did not let her destructive rage take over. Not yet, at least. She breathed in Ziost’s chilly air, filling her lungs with ice and cooling her own maelstrom of emotions a bit. Blonde-haired head turned to face Isla once more, establishing eye contact.

If she played her cards right, then perhaps she had a chance of accomplishing her goals without ever breaking her oath to Sieger Ren.

“You truly are lucky I never forget a favour. Tell me more about the secrets of the Sith you seek.”

She did not protest, she did not loiter behind. Telekinetically summoning the heavy assault rifle into her phrik-clad hands, the fair-haired Ren followed after her former colleague. Shadows crept across the moist, smooth walls of the cave. Although night ruled supreme within the caverns, there was just enough illumination to line a path for the two to follow deeper into the abyss. Zmej’s mask slipped back over her face – the technologically advanced visor instantly eliminated the weaknesses of bare sight. Each step of her armoured boots echoed throughout the cave system, seemingly disappearing into infinity as the due descended further. In their backs, a bombardment of torrential rain and thunder was getting started.


[member="Isla Ashen"]

 

[Isla Ashen]

Leaving the cold and the rain behind, they would venture further into the mountain. Isla had sensed the raw anger smoldering within Zmej, and it only made the corner of her mouth pull up into a smirk. But this awakened questions. Would the young blonde squander this chance? It would be a terrible folly to pass up the opportunity to find true power. Would Zmej flourish away from the chains of the Supreme Leader or would she be lost without his orders?

Isla was not completely sure that she would get to see the latter played out.

The ways of the Ren would be difficult to break. And even if she could undo all of the twisting they had done to Zmej’s young mind, it was completely possible that she would be unable to rid the girl of her affection for Sieger.

“Peace is a lie. There is only Passion.
Through Passion I gain Strength.
Through Strength I gain Power.
Through Power I gain Victory.
Through Victory my chains are Broken.
The Force shall free me.”

This was the answer that Isla gave to Zmej’s inquiry. Each word spoken in a low, solemn tone… almost like one reciting prayer. Her fingers gently ran along the wall of the cave, feeling the cold stone beneath them. The ways of the Sith were still quite new to Isla, she was still trying to grasp these words for her own use. But the seed had been sowed.

“It is the Sith Code.” Isla finally clarified, glancing to the side at Zmej. “My search for understanding has brought me here to Ziost. For some reason, I find the teachings of Darth Lumiya intriguing. I hope to find something left from her time here.”

During her time here, she had sensed darkness. It seemed to call to her from some place unseen. Today, she hoped to uncover this hiding place. But for the moment, she turned the topic back to Zmej.

“As I have been away for some time now, tell me what I have missed.”

[member="Zmej Ren"]

 

[Zmej Ren]

Pure darkness embraced the two, even more oppressive than before as the last trace of daylight died. As the female duo crept deeper, it became apparent this was no ordinary cavern. The lack of a powerful light source made the task of determining its true nature impossible though – completely erasing the concept of up and down, the cave gave no other option than to continue advancing down the path of shadows. The ceiling had long since vanished somewhere in the darkness above. Only footsteps and spoken words stood any chance against the deathly silence, such as when the flame-haired woman recited lines usually spoken by Sith. Shivers ran down Zmej’s spine upon hearing the ominous message, feeling the dark side tighten its grip on her black heart.

Naturally, Zmej recognized the Sith code as it softly rolled off Isla’s lips. There was much truth to these words, the fair-haired agent had to admit. Nevertheless, it meant nothing to her – archaic wisdom of a rival order at best. Anger and hatred have already proven most efficient tools when it came to bending the Force to her will and drinking from the dark side’s might. No code or mantra to shackle her potential – she merely needed to follow the Supreme Leader’s orders and enforce his ways.

“There have been many battles,” Zmej replied with undeniable fondness creeping into her voice, “Bloody and glorious – we are starting to secure mankind a just position in the galaxy. While strife weeds out the weak, the strong grow stronger. Is there anything healthier for a nation?”

Behind the menacing red light of her visor, the fair-haired Voice of the Supreme Leader frowned.

“But my brothers and sisters are growing soft, weak. And it’s going to get worse with the Sith-loving clowns in charge. I’m afraid the Ren won’t last long should we ever wage war against Sith.” She stated, a hint of frustration colouring her tone.

Something shifted in the night, but Zmej paid it no attention, head turning left and right as she studied several openings carved into the smooth stone wall. Although reduced to ruins, these worked stones possessed ages-old writings eternally carved into their surface. Digging the tip of her gauntleted finger into one such gouge, Zmej excitedly tracked the carving, removing centuries of dirt in one stroke. Unsurprisingly, the word – or was it a letter? – had nothing in common with Basic. Clueless, the young Ren turned to Isla.

“Ancient Sith?” She took a wild guess, shrugging.

Likely a warning. At least Zmej thought this place to be a grave site of an ancient Sith, or perhaps a hidden temple, shrine? All answers to her questions likely slumbered deeper and she merely needed to embrace the darkness to see it.


[member="Isla Ashen"]