Private Dust to Dust

[Darth Athora]

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The calcium enriched bone tint of Zahorimar heavily contrasted from it's earthy surroundings of Kulthis. Several cascading levels compose an display of architectural beauty and strength. The streets of Zahorimar are much quieter than the norm. Charcoal clouds were rolling overhead, ushering in one of Kulthis' violent storms. Thunder boomed in the distance as lightning streaked through the skies. Harsh rain poured down below. It had been some time since Zahorimar had been hit with such weather.

"Last time I've seen such a storm, the Sith Empire fell." Zahori commented. She stood at a window at the top of Zahorimar Keep, looking out at the storm that was fast approaching her city. Behind her, her apprentice, Anila, and her assistant, Lara, stood silently. "The Stenax have a word for such a storm: Kyrvet'Vol. It roughly translates to Vol's Lament. Legends say that Kulthis was almost entirely engulfed in a violent torrent when their god came to this world to find that his lover had died here. All alone. It almost destroyed the entire ecosystem of Kulthis." Zahori's eyes trailed down to the city. "Have the Imbams ensure all important personnel are ready to move to the bunkers should it be necessary, Lara." Zahori commanded.

"At once, my Lady." L4 replied before walking out of the room. Anila stepped closer to her master, choosing to not look at her but out at the storm as well.

"Master, how long will we bide our time here. Shouldn't we be extending our reach to the rest of the system? We have the manpower. I wish to spread your influence and power in your name as you entrusted me to do for all these years." Anila exclaimed, clenching her fists.

"I feel that we will not have to wait for much longer. Have faith, my apprentice. Have faith in me." Zahori consoled.

Darth Empyrean ​

 

[Darth Empyrean]

The storm was a great herald, and as it had once announced the arrival of a God so too would it do so again. As the storm reached the edge of the great city, the entrance to the keep was suddenly imparted with the presence of Darth Empyrean. He walked from shadow, let it fall away from him like the rain. The puddle of black it left boiled into nothing as he moved towards the great gate, staff clicking. Before any could even demand he declare himself, his lifted a hand of entirely black smoke and ripped it down - no doubt to the dismay of all those who had prepared it against the storm. He would not be a wind they could lock out.​

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Some ran, some attempted heroic gestures of defending against a man who was no longer a man - but Empyrean carefully deflected each round aside with his hand. None would die, not until he had a word with the long missing keeper of this world. He declared his intentions loudly, carefully, so that none could mistake him.​

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"I have come for Darth Athora . Bring her to me - I have less patience than the storm, and am all the more inevitable."​

 

[Darth Athora]

An acute ache streaked across Zahori's head. She'd pull her hand up to her face as the pain came as quickly as it left. An insidious force had reached it's way into her mind and clawed relentlessly at her. This was something she could not ignore, whatever it may have been.

"Master?" called out Anila, "Is something wrong? What is it?"

"We..." Zahori began.

The doors to the room opened quickly. Lara came in, flanked by two Imbams. "My lady, there is an intruder at the gates. He asks for you by name." Lara announced.

"...have company. L4, take Anila to my ship. If He summons me, I will answer.." Zahori walked past the others, leaving the room and heading towards the repulsorlift.

"Who, Lara? Who was it?" Anila questioned franticly.

"I am not sure, but we must get you away from here. The Lady's orders."

As the repuslorlift descended down the shaft, Zahori kept her gaze down at her feet. She could already feel his ever so familiar presence without even having to lay a look upon him. She knew that, one day, he would come for her. Only, she did not expect it so soon. Nor did she expect him to come himself before sending any of his followers. The anticipation for what was to come weighed heavily upon her shoulders. She did not feel Death coming for her, though it was lying in wait for the right moment. Whether that moment were close or not remained to be seen. As the lift came to a stop, the doors before her opened. Step after step through the dim hallway echoed throughout until she reached the entrance to the keep. Bodies laid scattered across the grounds along with the debris of what used to be the gate. Only the Dead God himself stood among the fallen.

"My Lord Emperor. I wish I knew you were coming. I would have prepared a proper welcome." Zahori expressed. The cold blackness of her armor contrasted with the alabaster walls of the keep. The sword of House Denko rested in it's sheathe along her back. Two lightsaber hilts clung to her hips. She knew better than to approach anyone without being prepared for anything.

Darth Empyrean ​

 

[Darth Empyrean]

The Dead God wore no armor, carried nothing but the staff bonded to his soul and trailing robes that began at the waist. His torso was a mess of muddled grey skin torn asunder from shoulder to hip - revealing a black maw leaking black smoky ichor that trailed to the floor that fell away. His eyes were not golden, but the black of metal. They shown as he watched her, red hair trailing in the wake of the wind coming from the storm yet miles away. He need not the comfort of weapons and arms, he was death personified - a walking sentence for those that crossed him, or so the propaganda foretold. Denko could make up how accurate those claims were herself.​

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"Were you prepare of my coming, I doubt we would be speaking as we are now. Rarely have the Sith welcome my arrival - but my arrival has always been inevitable.", he said through a dry and cracked voice reminiscent of Maliphant, though starkly different. She may even recognize who he once was, were they to have had any passing meetings on Bastion during his short tenure as its Governor.​

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" Darth Athora - I have come for what you have taken, and ask you return to the fold. Let it end at asking, I would not enjoy demanding.", he warned.​

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"In the coming weeks, you will hear of assassins killing off that which remains outside of the Order's grasp - there will be no Sith left with their holdings if I am to see my vision through. Once more, unified, by my will. I say that not as a threat, but a warning. Let your world survive, let House Denko prosper. It is my gift to you, for a life of service to our Order."​

 

[Darth Athora]

Athora lets out a deep sigh as she shook her head listlessly. The words he spoke, she heard. She grimaced at them. At him. What he offered was something she felt was with much more behind it. To return to the Sith would mean a return to the neve rending cycle of rising and falling she had so endlessly been through for many years before. She felt everything she did through that time all in that one moment he spent hoarsely speaking to her.

"Is this what it has come to? You say you are not demanding, yet you leave me without much choice, my Lord. None outside of live or die. Any one would choose to live a life of servitude that you so graciously offer me, and I thank you for it. However, I serve no one. Not anymore."

The storm grew ever so closer. Thunder boomed, sending shockwaves of energy across the land as lightning tore through the sooty clouds above. In the distance, a lone black Imperial transport ship took off towards the atmosphere, piercing the clouds above and disappearing from sight.

"Through victory, my chains are broken. The Force shall set me free. You know the words, my Lord. Don't you? They are in my blood same as yours. The Force has set me free and I intend to stay that way."

Darth Empyrean ​

 

[Darth Empyrean]

Empyrean's metal eyes drifted towards the sky, watching as the transport began its ascent into the atmosphere. His jaw worked quietly beneath cold skin, but he slowly fell back upon her. Carefully slow, dangerously thoughtful.​

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"There is always a choice, Darth Athora. What comes before Victory?", he said with a slight tilt of his head.​

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"Power.", he mouthed, as he raised a hand to the air - and she would feel something dangerous in the air. A signal, a call to something beyond, and the great sensation of something coming towards them through the Force.​

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In a haze of red lightning, sheering across the sky to dwarf even the mega storm - the great Mors Mons appeared in orbit above the planet. Teleported through the aether, it was the largest ship to ever grace the galaxy by many leagues. Massive, tumultuous, its very presence a dangerous portent for the death of a people.​

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"Power is what I control, and it dwarfs what you still hold. Strength is what flows by my hand, and it dwarfs what you compare. Passion is that which gives me strength..."​

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"And I fight for a galaxy you can not imagine. Let it too dwarf your isolation, your complacency."​

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"The Sith are built upon the rise and fall of our Order, predicated on the strong to rise - The choice I have given you, is to live as a Sith, or die as one. There is no greater, more fundamental choice for us than that."​

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Darth Athora​

 

[Darth Athora]

Athora's eyes followed his hand, anticipating an attack. She quickly shifted her gaze towards the sky as a streak of crimson lightning tore through the sky. She could feel the Force pulling something to her world. Something massive and powerful. The skies grew even darker than the storm had made it. The Lady of Storms' eyes widened as she realized that above her was a starship of inconceivable proportions.

"Magnificent..." Darth Athora uttered. Her eyes lingered upon the star ship for a moment longer before looking back to the Dark Lord. "I hear the truth in your words, my Lord. Your power and strength makes mine look feeble. I know my limits. And, yes, we are cursed to forever fall and rise again and again. So long as we have power and strength, there will be those that will prosecute and attempt to tear us down for it. That is the Sith way."

A deep sigh escaped her lips as she stared down Empyrean. Thoughts of everything she had built up to this point flashed through her mind. To even consider that his assassins would come close to killing Athora, was a fantasy. Though, what she could accomplish should she just comply. Even if only temporary.

"Very well." Athora dropped to one knee and bowed her head down. "My sword is yours once more, my Lord."

Darth Empyrean ​