Shadows fall across Time.

[Alkor Centaris]

In the chaos of war, many things were lost. Lives, friendships, homes, and even history, nothing and no one was safe from the all consuming flames. Alkor grew up in the turmoil of a violent age, and his life became brutally twisted by the state of the galaxy no differently than most people. The difference came in how he chose to live his life. Where most people were content to live peacefully and get by through legal means, there were those who chose a less glamorous and ultimately racy lifestyle that kept them in close quarters with danger. There were those who fought, for whatever reasons, and those who sough to maintain some semblance of peace in their daily routine.

Chief among those who fought were the Jedi, staunch defenders of the Galaxy's widely accepted standards. Prosperity and kindness between man and his fellows. Followers of the path of light often spurned those like the Jen'jidai, who rejected notions of peace and instead chose to follow a more realistic road through his life. That was what brought him so far from civilization, to Wild Space of all god forsaken places. As he placed a weathered, battered, but sealed envelope on the desk in front of him, the cool eyed Corellian stared intently into the eyes of a Hapan woman with an infectious inability to smile.

"Collector sent me here," he informed her gruffly. "Said he had what I wanted briefly, but he had to give it to you in payment of a debt." Her rigid demeanor remained unchanged as he spoke, and if his words surprised her she gave no indication. Chevra Hies was a woman of high social standing once, and though her name no longer carried weight in the Consortium her presence demanded respect all the same.

"I know the item in question," she recalled as she snatched up the envelope and waved it between them testily. "But I'm afraid I am no longer in possession of it. Jedi relics are of no consequence to me, sir, but credits are ever in high demand." Her pouty lips turned slightly in a smirk as the Dark Jedi frowned, a sure sign that she took some measure of pleasure in denying him. Her lithe fingers ran through brunette hair with all the grace of her upbringing, and she fluttered her deep brown eyes several times in an almost mocking manner. "You'll have to excuse me, I'm a busy woman and you're taking up my time."

"Sith." He stated the word like poison as he refused to move, not even an inch. "It's a Sith relic," he corrected. "And if you don't have it, kindly tell me who does so that I can be on my way."

With an exasperated huff, Chevra folded her hands and forced a sweet, albeit stiff smile. "I am not at liberty to divulge that information to you, sir," she answered dutifully. "And the item was taken from a Jedi Temple during the aftermath of a war, so we may be splitting hairs about its origins."

His eyes narrowed on the woman. How easy it must have been, a life without the Force. Freedom from all expectations of grandeur, and the ability to choose a more modest lifestyle. Alkor almost envied her in that. "I doubt you'd find much interest in its origins anyway," he replied frankly. Her nose twitched a bit and her smile became crooked as she stared at him, but she managed to retain her cool.

"Good day," she snapped. "And best of luck finding your Jedi artifact," she jeered mockingly. Her expression was a smug one as she reveled in her shallow victory.

 

[Alkor Centaris]

As the man disappeared through the door visibly irritated, Chevra heaved a sigh of relief. Sweat rolled down her back and she wiped her brow as her fingers dutifully keyed in a series of commands that brought a hologram up in front of her. "It was as you said, Alia," she spoke quickly and watched the door to be sure he was actually gone. "Someone came looking for it. It's been three years, and I thought this was just going to go away. We need to get rid of that thing-"

"For the right price, I'd be happy to part with it, sister," the image retorted disdainfully. "It was the one thing our late father actually passed down to us when he brought the family crashing down and destroyed the legacy that was supposed to be ours." Among the Hapan culture, women ruled. Unlike most places in the galaxy where men were kings, the Matriarchy was unquestioned. Women inherited the most important heirlooms and titles, leaving their brothers to quarrel over scraps. Whatever drove these sisters into poverty had never released the sister. While Chevra knew that Alia was driven by greed, she still loved her and would gladly follow her to the ends of the galaxy. She just hoped that one day, she would let go of such selfish notions.

"He didn't seem like the type who pays," the younger sibling warned. "You should be careful, and keep that thing wrapped up. If he catches wind of its power, he's going to come for it."

"If he comes here, I will be ready for him," Alia snapped. "You don't worry about me, Chev, worry about how we're going to come up with the rent for this month. You haven't been able to sell a single trinket in months, and we have all of those gems left in our stock." Chevra glanced toward the unimaginably rare jewelry of her people, something people from outside the system they were born in would fight to the death over. They were highly sought after for their beauty, and it was said that one was worth more than a small planet. Chevra seriously doubted that, but Alia was fairly vehement.

"I'll never sell them at the prices you're talking about," the younger Hapan huffed. "Let me come down to something more reasonable-"

"If you settle, you're never going to be able to survive in this galaxy," Alia chided. "Find a buyer for something. Anything. If you can convince that man to buy the weapon-"

"Alright!" Chevra twisted her face in obvious defeat and anxiety. "I'll find him. Just... keep it hidden, and don't do anything stupid. Don't go looking for him yourself and trying to fleece him. I get the feeling it would end badly."

"Like you're going to have better luck," the vain woman sneered. "Fine. I'll wait for you to speak with him. If you can't persuade him, I'll do it myself."

*************************************************************************************************************************​

​

He stormed out of the pawn shop with a look of ultimate disdain plastered on his face.

Alkor imagined that hunting down his prize would have been a simpler matter, but he should have known that such a thing would change hands quickly. It was sought after by collectors for its rarity, but even more so by Jedi so that it would not fall into dangerous hands. It had been interred in their temple for safe keeping for several decades after being unearthed from a Sith's final resting place, but to think it had been peddled on the backwater world of Adumar was almost unthinkable. It was the kind of tale best told over drinks and late at night, between good friends.

One vendor shouted at him off to the side of the avenue, but Alkor did not seem to hear. Several others hailed for his attention as he increased his pace, head down and concentrated on what he should do now. Large pillars remnant of an ancient civilization stretched out overhead, and the scream of starfighters as they wove intricately between them drew the Jen'jidai's attention sharply. It was a planet well known for its strict sense of honor, and renown for its ace pilots. Corellian born and as a Dark Jedi, Alkor felt at home on this world.

"Look! Blade Squadron is running their practice publicly again today!" a small girl exclaimed, and Alkor allowed himself a soft smile. It was not the girl that stroked that sentiment, but the memory of his own youth in Coronet. How many times had he watched Alliance pilots dance overhead, threading jetstream in complex patterns to awe the grounded crowd? Blade Squadron was a series of twelve of the best kept X-Wings he had witnessed since the Battle over Ossus, back after the Order had just fallen. Their pilots were nothing special, but they knew how to please a crowd.

Different methods of both close-call flying between fellow fighters and the pillars served as a suitable distraction, if for only a moment. The Squad leader, indicated by a black orange pattern painted on the side of the snubfighter, rounded into a tight Immelmann turn and inverted over top of another fighter. From such a distance, Alkor was able to discern that there may have been mere inches between the two cockpits, but everyone else watching may have been convinced that the two X-Wings kissed.

A thunderous roar of applause mounted to match the jet screams.

**********************************************************************************************************************​

"Sir!" Chevra called out, but Alkor could not hear anything over the show. "Sir!" she called out again, and this time he became acutely aware as a hand reached for his shoulder. Alkor jolted quickly and caught the hand mid-air. He stared into her face in confusion, but the show unfolding over head made it impossible to communicate at all. Her lips moved, but if anything more came from them, he could not tell it.

The Dark Jedi pointed back toward a nearby building. The Hapan nodded, and they began to work their way through the crowd.

 

[Alkor Centaris]

"I didn't know what it was when he brought it," she began as the door slipped shut behind her. "And my sister was more than a little eager to take a Jedi heirloom. I should have been straightforward with you from the beginning." Chevra looked distraught as she avoided his gaze and braced for the imminent rebuke. "I wasn't going to tell you because I don't think anyone should ever use it again. If I could destroy it, I would."

She flinced as he drew closer, but Alkor rested a hand on her shoulder. "You did well to keep it secret for so long," he assured her. "Just as the Jedi did before you. But it sounds to me like your sister has not been entirely forthcoming with you about her intentions. She would have sold it by now if she wanted to do so. The lightsaber of Exar Kun is immensely coveted by both staunch followers of the Sith code, and with more radical groups the galaxy over. I was lucky this lead panned out so well."

Chevra looked like she had been struck. "You... aren't upset?" her disbelief shifted into fear. "What do you mean, she would have sold it? She told me to find you to try and broker a healthy sum." Her eyes met his, and she bit her lip gently. "Why would she do that if she didn't want it sold?"

"How many others have come looking for it before me?" he asked cooly. Chevra frowned. "There must have been several. Did your sister agree to meet with them?"

"There were four," she conceded. "All of them, Alia dealt with personally."

"Of course she did," he muttered. "The blade has a corrupting presence that is of little consequence to someone who cannot sense it," Alkor explained, "but the more someone who can taste its power wields it, the less that they want to resist. Someone who lacks absolute control of their thoughts and feelings would be consumed by the bloody thing."

"Alia isn't Force sensitive," Chevra shot back defensively. "I would have known if she were! She would have told me that, don't you think? We've been together for so long, she doesn't keep any secrets from her own sister." The Hapan woman refused to meet his gaze, as though she did not fully believe the things she said herself. "I can't believe that she would do such a thing. I refuse!"

"You don't sense it, because you can't. But you knew about the corruption. On some level, you could see it. You came to me because of it. Isn't that right?"

Chevra shook her head weakly. "No," she rasped. "You're wrong."

"I am many things, Miss Chevra, but I am far from wrong. You may lie to yourself, but your emotions betray you." Alkor helped her to a chair, and he folded his arms. "I did not come to kill your sister. I came to take that blade."

"Are you a Jedi?" she asked weakly.

"I am not," he responded in earnest.

"You're a Sith?" she seemed surprised and afraid at once. The Hapan woman leaned backward and stared up into his stern gaze, trembling. "Then you will kill her, won't you?"

"It would be a kindness," he admitted, "but no. She will live, if only a shadow of the woman you call sister. Once the hunger of the darkness infects a person's spirit, they crave satiation for the rest of their lives. She will always want power, and so, she will never find happiness in the life you live here on Adumar."

"Sith are... kinder than I imagined," she whispered as she glanced down at the floor, tears dripping from her eyes.

"Do not make the mistake of believing that," Alkor cautioned her. "Sith smiles are filled with fangs. They are incapable of true kindness." He turned and headed for the door. "Where is she?" he spoke calmly, because he knew she worried for her sister.

"There is a colony at the edge of town,"she told him. "Hapan, all settled here because they fled the Cluster during the last Alliance conflict. We integrated with them. You should find her there." Chevra stood quickly, then grabbed at the sleeve of his shirt. "Please," she implored him. "Please, take that accursed weapon from this place. You must."

Alkor glanced back, then offered a curt nod as he slipped out the door.

 

[Alkor Centaris]

"How disappointing," the holographic image stated after Chevra recounted the information to her. "You told someone where to find me, and now I don't have time to prepare for their arrival. Whatever am I going to do with you, sweet sister?" Alia appeared as a middle aged woman with refined features, but the clothing she wore was far more elaborate than what generic merchants opted for. Her eyes shifted from one side to the other as she visibly debated what options she had. "Chevra, I thought we were closer than this."

"I told him so that it wouldn't be able to hurt you," the younger sibling insisted, "you haven't been yourself in so long, I knew something was amiss. Why did you never tell me you were sensitive to the Force? We could have gone to find you help!"

"I don't need help," Alia seethed as she glared at her sister through the hologram. "I needed a sister who was trustworthy not to sell me out to the first seemingly trained Force Adept who came by and seduced her with words. Now here I am, having to kill another would be buyer so that we can go back to living our quiet life, far away from prying eyes."

"Kill?" Chevra gasped and her hands flew over her lips. Both eyes were wide with terror and disgust at the revelation. "You killed them?" her voice was weak, and she slunk to her knees on the floor. "Oh god, Alia, please give it to him-"

"Oh, I will," the elder woman sneered. "I'll give him every inch of blade, and when I'm through with him, I will remind you why I am the one who keeps us alive. Why it is that you should defer to my wisdom, and most of all, why you need to keep your foolish mouth shut."

The image flickered and faded in an instant, which left Chevra cold and alone.

"Please," she begged aloud, "please, stop her."

**************************************************************************************************************************************​

Wind swept across as another round of fighter flight flared overhead. Alkor did not take the time to appreciate their maneuvers this time, both eyes intent on the far side of the town. He could feel the power there, raw and completely unrefined. It was seeped in a growing darkness, most likely the effects of the lightsaber on a weak minded individual. She was not strong in her own right, but the power that drove her forward was both unpredictable and ancient, so Alkor would not dismiss it so readily.

He slowed as the fighters grew further away, and the ability to hear properly slowly returned to him. Something felt different now. Quieter, but only just. The roar of the crowd and their cheering made it difficult to concentrate. As the fighters came around again and prepared for another pass, he felt it.

Move!

Time ground to a halt as his eyes turned skyward and widened, violently aware of the snubfighter trained on his location. The S-foils were locked in attack position, and the lasers primed to fire. Energy bolts had started to screech out from the apex of each wing, and panic had twisted the world all around him.

He flung himself straight forward, propelled at high speed more by the realization that he was in danger than by the Force itself. The latter certainly played no small part in the act, of course. "Get out of here!" he screamed as he rolled to his feet, and his voice was amplified by several hundred decibels. He did not need to tell them twice. Everyone scattered in every direction as the rogue X-wing continued to rain hell among the civilians.

Alkor was not stupid enough to remain still. Bolts from a blaster were one thing, but fire from a starfighter could not be reflected. He raced toward the fringes of the settlement and leaped to narrowly avoid a blast at perilously close range. "Welcome, welcome, sir," the sweet snarl of a woman greeted him as he wove between two small hovels. The X-Wing soared overhead, but did not fire on civilian homes. He decided it was only interested in him. The woman seemed to have a similar agenda.

Alia looked like a slightly older, darker haired version of her sister with plump lips that sneered in defiance of Alkor. Her attire screamed vanity in his face as he tossed his cloak aside and gripped the lightsaber that hung at his hip and thumbed the activation switch. With a serpentine hiss, it came to life and bathed the alleyway in sinister light. The Hapan woman stepped back a hair. "You should have left Adumar when she told you that it was not here," Alia crooned.

"Whether I leave you breathing or not makes no difference to me," he informed her. "Give me that weapon so I can at least honor my word to your sister."

"Bite me," she barked back as the blue-white blade sizzled to life in her grasp. One after the other, both sides of the weapon activated and she wielded the saberstaff in all of its ancient glory. "I have mastered the art of using this lightsaber. You will be the one to die."

"Mastered?" Alkor smiled softly. "Well, one of you has been mastered, at least."

Alia screamed as she ran at Alkor.

 

[Alkor Centaris]

"Alia," Cherva gasped between sobs, "Alia, please, don't do this."

Her makeup ran as she picked herself gracelessly off the floor and clambered toward the door. Her shop was dusty and the grime on her hands from pressing down on the floorboards evinced that it was not often traveled. The effort to clear the mess from her dress only served to make it worse. It was far from a good day for the Hapan woman. Her sister intended to kill a man that she had never met, and it was her fault. All of this over the weapon of a Sith. A weapon she had apparently used before, which disturbed Chevra on a cellular level.

"Alia..." Chevra stared into the mirror and proceded to break down again. She managed to cling to the door as she heard the sound of several explosions outside, and the smell of o-zone and sulfur rose throughout the settlement. In a panic, she threw open the door and looked out into the hellish scene. A squadron of X-Wings circled overhead in a frenzy, as if uncertain what was happening. One rogue ship was doing flyovers, firing at the edge of the city where she and her sister lived. "Oh, no," she whispered weakly. "Oh, gods, no..."

Chevra stumbled forward in a stupor, not certain of past or future. The Force was a mysterious entity, and beyond her to understand. Why her sister had become obsessed with it in the few years they had been away from Hapes would probably elude her forever. It had never occurred to her to be angry at their late father for taking them from Hapes to prevent getting caught in political problems. They were never in line to take the throne, or even have a semblance of any real power. Her family had always been merchants, and though their wares were considerable in worth, their lives were worth far more.

She swayed with every step, mentally broken by the impossibility of it all.

Alia was twisted by darkness. Her sister was gone. She wanted this nightmare to end. She wanted that lightsaber to leave Adumar, and their life to go back to what it was before all of this. She wanted Alia back. Poverty was not so bad, was it? All the riches in the galaxy could not buy true happiness, their father had said once. What had happened to that belief? Had Alia ever believed it at all?

************************************************************************************************************​

"What did she offer you to save me, wretch?" Alia taunted as their blades clashed. Sparks rained between them as she spun one blade after the other down at him in relentless assault. He parried deftly with one shallow blow after another, and the Hapan hissed again. "Did she seduce you with her youthful wiles? Have you fallen in love with sweet Chevra?" Alia grinned widely as she brought the rear blade forward in a horizontal slash, attempting to take him off guard. Alkor stopped the blow with an upright block. "Don't worry, I can send her to be with you in the afterlife."

Alkor stared coldly into her eyes. "It has taken you in entirety," he muttered. "There is no point in trying to save a husk."

Alia roared, then her hand shot toward him. Crackling energy teemed forth from her fingertips and white hot lightning sprayed wildly at his face. Alkor stepped backward and held his blade at an angle, intercepting the blast with his blade and a pensive expression. She screamed as she poured more of herself into the assault. The electricity roared and cracked along the perimeter of his lightsaber. Exar Kun's presence lingered in that lightsaber, he forced himself to remember. Even if she is weak, the power in that blade magnifies any effort on her part. I must treat this battle as though I were fighting Kun himself.

"You would kill your own sister," he grunted through the stalemate, "there is nothing left to return to Chevra."

"She ceased to be my sister when she betrayed me!" Alia howled wildly, and the storm that emanated from her person grew manic. Alkor took another step backward and spun his saber out of the way. His hand flew upward in a concentrated effort, and he drew the Force around himself. "You will not take my prize from me!"

They came out of the alleyway and back into the wide, open space outside of the encampment. The X-wing continued to spray for several moments longer, but veered off when the two combatants came into view. Alkor sensed that it did not wish to harm Alia. "A friend of yours on high?" He asked with a mocking smirk. "They're due capital punishment for endangering the populace, you know. You're ruining lives, Alia. Or do you not care about that anymore?"

She roared defiantly, and he caught the blast in his palm. He was no master of Force powers that manipulated the environment, unlike so many men he knew. Alkor's power lay more in using the Force to empower himself, and to keep himself aware. But there was a single power that stemmed from the senses, from tasting the Force intimately and finding points in the fabric of reality where it was weakest.

That was how he was able to foster this energy. Unlike Tutaminis or Absorption, Alkor did not draw the power into himself and fill emptied reservoirs. Instead, the energy flowed back into the Force itself, dispersing and drowning into cracks that no one else could see. It filtered outward from his hand as tendrils of invisible energy, undulating waves not unlike looking through heat on the horizon. The more she fed it, the more it shivered, cracked, and slowly moaned.

Alia's expression shifted from angry to surprised, then terrified.

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"Sister," Chevra groaned direly as she ambled past the last building that separated them. "This isn't who you are. This isn't my Alia. Please, just let him help you. Let him take it from you and we can go back to living quietly..."

She stopped short when the battle between Alkor and Alia came into view, and Chevra Hies fell to her knees. She watched with a blank expression as power beyond her imagination flew from her sister and Alkor offered it back to Adumar, to the galaxy, and to eternity. For that brief moment, Chevra understood the finite nature of mortality. Anything that humans did was borrowed. Time itself was a loan from greater powers, whether benevolent or as a divine comedy, it was the only kindness that they were afforded. Jedi, Sith, man or woman, they were all ants dancing before giants.

Her hands fell over her eyes as it unfolded before her, but an older man grabbed her wrist and forced it down. "No," he spoke softly, like a parent scolding a child. "Watch this. Plant it firmly in your memory, and let it always remind you that power can corrupt even the kindest heart. And find hope in the result, that power will never save you from fate."

Chevra sobbed, but watched grimly as the Force opened its jaws...

************************************************************​

The world around her was pure white.

Only a moment ago, she had been on Adumar engrossed in battle against some nameless Force Adept. His hand had collected her anger, and it seemed like the world itself was erased. But that could not have been true. No, simply changing timelines was not possible as far as she knew. That kind of power was at the very least beyond Jedi and Sith, and she had her doubts that the man ever learned the secrets of the Aiing-Ti. Those monks did not share with anyone, xenophobic when it came to their considerable and legendary power.

So, what had swallowed her?

Alkor stepped into view next to her, but his gaze was focused on the distance. "Why are you here?" she asked defensively.

"I was the last person you spoke to," he replied. "I'm not technically real, just the most convenient memory. Death itself is formless, and cannot be comprehended by the human psyche. So, it just adopts the most consistent form from one person to the next."

"I'm dead, then." There was a hint of resignation in her voice. She looked at him, and he offered her a kind smile. It was something Alkor Centaris never did. She blushed slightly, and glanced away. "He did it. He killed me. I can't feel the taint of the lightsaber anymore."

"Not... exactly," he answered. "More precisely, he took your power and gave it back to the Force." She tilted her head, not understanding. "You see, the aura of Exar Kun had poisoned you. Force Sensitives are corrupted by the power in that blade, so wielding it brings misfortune and calamity to anyone unworthy to wield it." He gestured in her direction, and sighed. "The story goes that a father and his daughter claimed the blade, though neither of them were sensitive to the Force, and when he activated the blade, it impaled and killed them both. It devours innocent lives, Alia. Just as it devoured you."

She stared at her feet. "I hurt Chevra," she spoke sadly, "didn't I?"

"You did," he confirmed, "but you have a chance to make amends. You're not dead, yet. I can guide you back to the light. Just tell me that's what you want."

"I have to atone for the things I've done," she sobbed suddenly, a hand rushing to stop the vomit from leaving her lips violently, "I've hurt people. I've killed them."

"Dying doesn't make anything better," he said. "It just takes your pain and gives it to someone else. You have to be stronger than that if you want to make up for anything."

Alia stared at the not-Alkor, stunned.

"Take me back," she whispered.

He nodded.

****************************************************​

The lightsaber fell from her hand and clattered along the dirt.

Alkor stepped forward and caught Alia before she could crumble to the ground, and she groaned softly. "Alia!" Chevra shouted as she rushed forward, and she buried her face in Alkor's back. "You promised!" she choked, "you promised that you wouldn't kill her!" The Hapan woman sobbed, but Alkor held Alia upright. "Oh no, Alia, I'm so..."

"She is alive," Alkor commented. Chevra took a step back, and the Dark Jedi turned and tossed her sister toward her. She caught Alia dumbly. "I stripped her of the Force," he informed her. "She will never use it again. And the corruption is gone." He knelt down and scooped the lightsaber from the ground and latched it to his belt. "And I will be taking this with me."

"Yes," Chevra said happily, overwhelmed by joy, "oh thank you," she cried as she handed Alia to the old man at her side. "Thank you so much!"

Alkor's eyes flew wide as the woman pressed her lips against his.

 

[Alkor Centaris]

In the hours before dawn, Alkor remained awake in the living space of the Hies sisters' home. His eyes were trained on the wall ahead of him, but his thoughts were far from that place. Alkor remained weary from sapping power from the elder sister, and his thoughts drifted back to a time when he never would have afforded someone that kindness. Chevra asked for her sister to be spared- no, the woman practically begged him. And Alkor, a man renown throughout the core as a ruthless killer, and trained to do just that, had shown mercy to a foe. But there was a reason for this, beyond that of simple kindness.

His eyes snapped down to the lightsaber hilt lain on the floor at his knees. "You have gone unchecked for too long," he murmured in a low voice to the weapon. "And I will teach you now, the powerful are as nothing to the endurance of the galaxy." The weapon seemed indignant in the Force, and Alkor felt the discontent wash over him as he spoke. Whatever piece of Kun that remained seemed to defy him in a contest of willpower. "You are mine," he told the lightsaber, "my weapon, and my ally, but above all, you are my servant. You are subject to my will, not I to yours."

Insolent boy. Alkor looked up from the lightsaber and regarded the incorporeal image of the fallen Dark Lord of the Sith as it manifested adjacent to him. You are an infant in the ways of darkness. Know your place, and I can offer you power unlike any you have imagined before. It was exactly as Alkor expected, but that did not stop him from matching the powerful presence with his own, confident and cool aura. This path you walk, one that fears the open embrace of the Dark side, it will never afford you the power necessary for conquest. You will ever play pawn to lesser lords, and vassal to politicians. Do you not crave more than this?

"I crave nothing," Alkor answered honestly. "I came seeking this blade not for the strength it promises, but the ability to dominate it. No one else will ever flaunt your power and lord over anything. It will become a tool for cutting down my enemies, and nothing more." Alkor quietly watched the expression of Kun change from indignation into pure disgust. He did not relish the victory. It was not a battle he cared about. "If you insist upon lingering within the blade," Alkor explained, "then become content with the understanding that your story is finished. The final page has been turned, and the book has closed. Your legacy will become nothing more than the weapon of Alkor Centaris."

You speak too highly of yourself to a greater man, Jen'jidai. The fallen Jedi smiled as he gestured toward the weapon. If I will it so, this blade will never serve you. You understand that, do you not? A man unwilling to submit to the darkness can never wield it to its truest potential.

"But a man who subjugates the darkness?" Alkor never showed anything on his face. It infuriated Exar Kun. "If you will not serve me, I will send you on to Hell. It matters not whether I have your blessing, Exar Kun. It is simply a matter of honor that I offer you the chance to cling to this galaxy, as you have for so long. If you deign to be my enemy, I will discard you like the corpse you are."

I have been dead for over four thousand years, yet here I remain. Kun sneered. Lesser creatures than you have tried and failed to be rid of me. Sealing my power was all they could ever manage, and it took more Jedi than a single one to achieve that.

Alkor simply smiled.

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​

"Erm," Chevra stammered as she walked out into the room just after dawn. Alkor still meditated over the lightsaber, but his eyes were closed now and his breathing slow and steady. "I'm sorry to interrupt," she said quietly. "I just wanted to see how you were, since yesterday was such a bother." She watched as he exhaled and his body relaxed, and she sighed in relief as he turned to regard her. "And I wanted to apologize for being so forward in thanking-"

"No need to worry," he told her. "Where have they taken your sister?" Alkor asked.

"To the holding cells," the Hapan woman responded, startled. "They will transfer her after three days to a larger facility on the mainland. Situations like these, when people have been killed... it tends to upset the locals, and endanger the criminal. It's for her continued safety, at least until the tribunal decides her fate..."

Alkor shrugged. "Governments are a funny thing," he said softly, "I doubt that they'll kill her with my testimony in mind. Stripped of the Force, it's unlikely she'll ever decide to go down the path of darkness again. At least not of her own free will." Chevra fell to her knees in front of Alkor and placed a hand on either of his shoulders. Her eyes were close to tears. Alkor tensed again and leaned backward. "You're, erm, not going to kiss me again, are you?"

"Oh!" Chevra blushed and her hands flew off of Alkor. "I'm so sorry! I never meant to presume-"

"No, it's alright," he assured her. "I am glad that your sister will live. She was a slave to something wicked, that preyed on those weak of mind." Alkor turned slowly and gripped the weapon, then replaced it on his belt with one of the clips. "But the matter of the rogue pilot is another I want to look into." He stood, and Chevra watched him from her place on the floor.

"He was an Adumari male named Kalo Varr. He maintains that he loved my sister and would do anything for her, but he refused to say anything else. It appears that he acted of his own accord in the attempt on your life, and he has been sentenced to death."

Alkor nodded. "No end to the victims in your eternal war, eh Kun?"

Chevra tilted her head.

"I will be going to the holding cells," he informed her. "I'd appreciate it if you stayed behind. It would not do for you to have to see your sister so soon after the incident."

"You just want me out of the way, right?"

Alkor nodded at the observation. "Right."

****************************************************************​

​

He will die in spite of your efforts. Kun's spirit followed Alkor as he walked and jeered him with every step. Though it could not be seen or even heard by those who did not wield the weapon, it remained vigilant beside the Dark Jedi Master. All your attempts to undo what I have wrought will be for naught, Centaris. Give in, and let my will drive your hand.

Alkor stopped before the door that led down into the dirt. The holding cells were built into a cliffside that overlooked a sea littered with jagged rocks. There was need only for a door, but no bars. If one tried to escape that prison, they would do so without their life. Craggy rocks and pylons of stone that jutted up from the waters below made it impossible to navigate even with a small craft. It was the perfect place for criminals to rot. Under different circumstances, Alkor himself might have lived out the last of his days in such a cell.

The door creaked open ahead of him. "Welcome, welcome," the man overseeing the compound greeted. "I've been expecting you, Master Centaris. Chevra rang ahead of you and explained that you had evidence concerning Kalo Varr. Come, sit, let us converse. I heard that yesterday was an exciting venture for you..."

 

[Alkor Centaris]

Alkor stared quietly at the cup of caf placed before him on the table. "I'd like you to tell me what happened," the chief spoke in a kind voice, but one touched by concern. "And why it is you think that Kalo is innocent in a crime he clearly and unquestionably committed. No one else piloted that starfighter, and no one else could have thumbed the weapons systems and killed three people." He leaned forward and placed his chin on his hands thoughtfully, eager to hear what the Corellian had to say.

"You'll have to forgive me," the younger man chuckled. "I am wholly unused to being a witness." The last time he sat in a chair like this before an officer of the law, it was an interrogation. This situation felt more than a little uncomfortable. The older man sat back a bit to give Alkor his space.

"I understand," he acknowledged. "I had your record pulled and I know what you did. The fact that you're speaking as a character witness for a murder is more than a bit ironic, wouldn't you say?"

Alkor looked up and locked eyes with the man. "If I allowed someone to be unjustly punished, it would trample over men like me," he leaned forward to punctuate his words. "Real killers."

"Are you trying to intimidate me?" the chief reached into his chest pocket and pulled out a deathstick. Once lit, he placed it between his lips and proceeded to light it. "Because this could get very interesting if that's the case."

"Aren't deathsticks illegal?" Alkor smirked mirthlessly as he refused to back down from the challenge.

The older of them sat back and laughed. "We do thinks a little differently out here," he answered, "and not entirely by the book. So I'm inclined to hear you out, mostly because you prevented further loss of life and because our culture has a great deal of respect for skilled warriors." He glanced sidelong toward the hallway of cells where Varr wasted away. "And for fighter pilots. That someone so young and talented would pull something like this... it doesn't sit well with anyone, to be blunt. Anything that would absolve him is more than welcome. Provided you actually have evidence, that is."

"The woman was controlled," Alkor pulled the weapon from his hip and placed it on the desk between them. "By this."

"A Lightsaber?" the Adumari official raised an eyebrow. "It's a Jedi weapon, sure. I don't think the weapon itself can do such a thing, though."

"This belonged to a man named Exar Kun," Alkor explained. "Have you heard the name?"

The man's eyes widened. "A Sith Lord," he hissed. "An ancient Sith Lord, at that. What is it doing here?"

"Nevermind the semantics of how or why," Alkor chided. "Just understand that it is."

"So the girl has an alibi," the man stated, "but not the pilot. How do you explain that?"

"Simple," Alkor took the weapon in hand and waved it from side to side. "The girl was empowered by it, just as much as she was corrupted. The business of controlling someone or manipulating them is a simple task for a powerful dark sider."

The death stick fell to the floor as the officer adopted a horrified expression.

He fears it. Kun stood behind Alkor, but only the Jen'jidai could see or hear him. He fears you. Embrace his weakness and make it your strength. Alkor continued to watch as the man stomped out his drug and took a breath. "So you're going to take it off the planet when you leave, right?"

Alkor nodded. You fool! Seize the opportunity. Make him suffer! "I will leave the moment I know that Kalo will be released."

"Why are you doing this for him?"

"Because," Alkor clipped the weapon to his hip, and the figure of Kun faded away in a wisp of dust. "The corruption runs deep, unless you grip it at the roots and pull it out. If it is not done thoroughly, it will just grow again." The old man blinked, and Alkor elaborated. "Kun's design is always to return from death," he told the man. "As long as part of him remains in the galaxy, he will always have a way back. But in doing that, he makes casualties and ruins lives. Power like that is pure black, not a shadow. Light and darkness exist in duality. One does not exist without the other. That is why Jedi are wayward and Sith unnatural."

"What are you getting at?"

"Power, in and of itself, fades. Only tools remain." Alkor closed his eyes. "And I am making the tool mine. His grip on it only stands in the way of my own."

 

[Alkor Centaris]

"Send in the prisoner."

The door creaked shut behind Varr. When the low light flickered, he squinted both eyes and tried to make out the seated man's face. "Who are you?" the errant pilot asked. "What do you want?"

"The woman who told you to break formation and attack," Alkor asked, "what did she promise you in return? Surely you knew the repercussions?"

Kalo sat down and bowed his head. "Not going to offer me water?" he asked. "No smokes?"

Alkor drummed his fingers on the tabletop. "Was it money?" he asked. "Power?"

Kalo locked eyes with the Dark Jedi and sneered. "Is it always about tangible things with you lawmakers?" he barked. "Why can't it ever be the love in a man's heart? Is it so impossible that I might have done it because I wanted to?"

Alkor leaned forward. "Are you sure you want to go down this road, Varr?" He folded both hands and leaned his elbows on the table. "You may not like where it leads."

"Are you inferring that I have a reason to offer false testimony?" the condemned terrorist asked skeptically. "You bastards are all the same. If you called me here to pin the blame on Alia, you can forget it-"

Alkor stood and took a step forward out of the chair and grabbed the man by his collar. "I'm not a cop," Alkor snarled, "I'm here to save both of your lives, and I need a bloody real admission from you to do it. Now, tell me exactly what happened, and leave nothing out."

Kalo could see the anger that boiled behind the Jen'jidai's eyes and it caused him to waver. "I don't know what you're..."

"Don't kriff me around, kid," Alkor hissed. "They want to kill you, and I can let 'em if that's what you really want, but you really need to reevaluate just what it is you want out of life. Is dying really the best thing you can do for Alia?"

It sickened him, the degree to which he was going for these people. A Dark Jedi did not place intrinsic value on life. He cared only for things that mattered to him specifically. In order to abolish the deep darkness that lingered on Adumar, he needed to take action.

There was a healthy need for balance in the Force. The Jedi held certain beliefs in prophecy, to the point where they once considered Anakin Skywalker to be a "chosen one." Alkor considered all of that to be nonsense.

"Alright," Kalo whispered, "alright. I'll tell you everything."

In terms of the galaxy, Adumar existed as a single point. On the planet itself, Alkor and Kalo were both specks, and the conversation between them a splotch in the Force. If there were chosen ones, in the truest sense, then they were not people. They were circumstances.

Circumstances that manifested themselves as decisions, in some cases. "Excellent," Alkor waved his hand. "You will be on record, of course."

"Of course."