To Be Free

[Valae Heavenshield]

To Be Free...​

Zora stepped into her quarters and dropped her things down by the door. Her boots dragged along the floor, before eventually being kicked off by the sofa. Returning after an expedition to Mesharra Temple made her living space seem awfully lackluster, even more so than usual. There were neatly stacked texts – a small archive in the making – and plain gray walls that said very little about the woman that lived within them.

After all, it was only recently that she had started to call this place home.

But there were a few tell-tale items that shed light on her hobbies, a bin full of yarn and an open sketchbook that was currently in the process of being painted with watercolor. There was also a small collection of teacups and saucers that lined the kitchen counter. Her hands ran down the front of her shirt, it was a bit dusty and dirty from the journey down into the depths of the mysterious temple. It was a place that she looked to visit again, there was still much to discover and understand.

Though, no matter how she tried to shift her attention, her thoughts lingered on Mesharra. It was an experience that could scarcely be described. And so, she had a seat on the edge of the sofa and turned to a blank page in her sketchbook. Her fingers nimbly lifted a slim piece of charcoal, a tool that had been used rarely, and she touched the tip of the drawing medium to the creamy page. As if working with a mind of its own, her hand flew – drawing out thin lines that quickly began to build into the shape of the temple. Memories flowed easily from her mind and onto the page, where she could recall it perfectly.

Drawn in such a way, the temple took on a darker, more sinister appearance in her sketchbook.

“No, no…” She said quietly, “That’s not quite right.”

But somehow, it was right. At least, that’s how it felt at the moment – a strange sensation. Setting down her pad of paper and pencil, she reached up and removed her glasses. Leaving her things on the coffee table, she stood and walked into the refresher. Zora turned the water on and let it run, and listened to the gurgling sound of the drain. Her slim hands then entered the stream pouring from the faucet, the black smudges on her hands started to come clean.

And as she turned a tired gaze up towards the mirror, a strange sense of darkness loomed with her reflection. Blinking hard, she looked deeper. Maybe that bump to the head did more damage than she had originally thought.

“It’s nothing,” She tried to assure herself, “Just a trick of the light, that’s all.”

[member="Darth Immortus"]

 

[Darth Immortus]

For the first time in centuries, Darth Immortus was surrounded by the sensation of life. The unmistakable ripple in the Force that carried with it the warmth of a heartbeat was closer than ever; he was inside of it now. His presence swam in Zora's veins, haunting from within. Immortus was not quite alive - but for the first time in six hundred years, he felt like it. The autonomy of freedom was so close, it seemed as though he could simply reach out and grab it and it would be his.

The sketch of Mesharra Temple in Zora's notebook was uncharacteristically accurate, well beyond the young archaeologist's nominal memory. The spirit of Darth Immortus guided the charcoal as it splayed maddeningly across the paper, coming together to form a frenetic, yet detailed image of the Temple's lonely, dark halls. Halls that Immortus knew all to well. His spirit breathed in those walls for hundreds of years in solitude, the decrepit bricks acting as his ghostly prison that stripped him of contact with the rest of the galaxy.

Everything he had once come to love had been destroyed. And yet he remained, lingered on to endure the torture of his burnt candles of memories.

No more!

This life was his now - he would seize it. When [member="Zora Djo"] looked in the mirror, she would not see only her reflection. The alien presence of a dark, long-haired figure enrobed in black was behind her, his features as striking as his sudden appearance. It spoke.

"You think you are alone?"

 

[Valae Heavenshield]

Gripping the edge of the counter for support, her brown eyes were locked on the mirror. Unable to turn away, she watched in shock as the form of a man appeared next to her in the reflection – like a ghost. Zora gasped at the image of the dark figure in the mirror, frightened to even take a glance over her shoulder… what if he was still there. No, it couldn’t be real. Shaking her head, she continued to gape speechlessly at the sinister reflection, taking in his appearance. There was a sheet of long hair and pale features, and even though it was impossible, there was something familiar about him.

“This isn’t real!” She said, loudly. “Y-you aren’t real. This isn’t happening.”

Zora knew that she was stammering aloud now, and her grip finally broke from the counter. Stepping backwards, she felt the wall behind her. Much to her surprise, the ghostly man was there in her bathroom. “I-It is real.” She whispered, astonished.

Suddenly, the chill she’d felt in Mesharra Temple returned, sending a great shiver up her spine. Her mind worked to put the pieces together. Her index finger slowly rose and pointed right at the black-robed figure.

“You came from the Temple.” She said, more to herself than to him. “W-who are you?”

[member="Darth Immortus"]

 

[Darth Immortus]

The ghostly visage remained unmoving and unflinching. It stalked [member="Zora Djo"] with its eyes as she moved backwards, all the while bearing a cold grimace.

"Real?" It spoke again. "What is real? For eons I was trapped in the space between asleep and awake. That was very real."

The spirit moved closer to Zora, practically pinning her between itself and the wall behind her. The full scope of understanding finally seemed to be getting through to the young woman when she posed a question to him, to which the spirit became visibly pensive. After spending hundreds of years without a life or a body, consumed by the madness of solitude, that slow entropy that decayed his memories - who was he?

"I am Darth Immortus," He answered. Then, a smile. "Yes... that is what they used to call me."

Immortus' eyes remained fixed on Zora.

"But, knowledge for knowledge. Answers for answers. What do you call yourself, Jedi-kin?"

 

[Valae Heavenshield]

Though her heart thumped quickly within, the fear was slowly dissolving; her inquisitive nature began to take over. Already, her mind was alive with thoughts. Of course, she’d seen works that described the Jedi ability to create force ghosts; perhaps this apparition was something similar. After all, he had intelligence and the ability to recall – he just lacked physical form.

However, her mind seemed to go blank again as soon as the shadowy figure moved closer. She pressed her back against the wall, as though it would help protect her. But, as she watched the expression of the ghost change, it seemed that he was deep in thought. Zora’s brows rose slightly, surprised to see a smile appear on the man’s face.

“Darth Immortus?” She echoed quietly, she knew that the title of Darth meant Sith.

Swallowing hard, she straightened up slightly. “Zora.” She answered, automatically touching her glasses. “Zora Djo, I-I just work here at the temple.”

She wasn’t a Jedi; she wasn’t truly anyone of importance.

“What do you want from me?”

There had been others with her at Mesharra, why had he chosen to come back with her? Did it have something to do with the holocron? Yes, she thought, that must have been it...

[member="Darth Immortus"]

 

[Darth Immortus]

Darth Immortus pierced [member="Zora Djo"] with his gaze as she answered timidly. She was no Jedi, she insisted, she merely worked at the Temple. "Mm. Of course you do."

Of course, that was exactly how Immortus' spirit was able to worm its way into her mind. A skilled Force-user could have potentially warded off Immortus' mental assault, but unfortunately for poor Zora, she was unable to defend against such sorcery. When she had touched the holocron, Immortus sensed that Zora would be a perfect vessel for his consciousness - for now.

The shadowy Sith Lord looked at her inquisitively as she asked her question.

"What do I want?" He repeated, as though he had never considered the question before. "Well, I have little use for this body of yours. What rests in your mind, however, may prove far more useful."

The Sith spirit moved ever closer, holding up a finger to Zora's temple. "Tell me, Zora, what exactly do you do at the Temple?"

 

[Valae Heavenshield]

Zora’s fingers tugged at the hem of her shirt, she’d picked up on the notes of skepticism in the ghost’s tone. Of course, her place among the Silver Jedi would come into question. They were a well-known power in the galaxy; no doubt there were many that would take pride in bringing down such an organization. But truly, she was nobody.

When the specter called Darth Immortus mentioned that he had little use for her body, she gave a glance down at her feet. Indeed she was nothing special; she was a woman of lanky height and fairly ordinary features. But, she had to admit that the fact came with some relief. Then… he mentioned her mind. Well, now… she did consider herself to be an intelligent woman. This fact was mildly flattering and more than a bit frightening.
She swallowed hard before answering.

“Well, right now my job is to keep the archives tidy.” She said, nodding stiffly. “D-don’t get any ideas, though. I don’t know anything important.” Zora tacked on quickly. “I’ve only just started here, I don’t have those levels of permissions for anything of use to you, I’m sure.”

Zora inched away from the finger that was lingering close to the side of her head. The curiosity began to bubble up again.

“But, erm, just what is your plan here?” She asked, knowing full well that he wasn’t a fool enough to simply spill the beans. “I’ll have you know… that I will not cooperate with your efforts.” Zora said, still shrinking away from him.

[member="Darth Immortus"]

 

[Darth Immortus]

Torrents of spiritual energy whirled around the cramped space as the spirit continued to loom over [member="Zora Djo"]. Were it not for the poor archivist's last comment, Darth Immortus seemed peculiarly placid up until this point. The spirit's visage merely floated as she spoke, his obscured face giving no indication of his thoughts. Then, the lights in the small bathroom began to flicker, and a sudden gust of kinetic Force energy collided into Zora to take her off her feet, the sound of the Force filling her eardrums with a muffled din, as though she were underwater.

"You have no choice."

In truth, it had taken most of Immortus' meager energy to summon that blast. He would have to recoup after not only appearing in spectral form for so long, but calling upon the Force in the physical plane as well. This only spurned his anger on more, motivated him further in his quest. He had rid himself of his first prison, now he needed to release the shackles of his second one. Zora's body would not do. He needed to take form in his own body once again.

"Take me to the archives. Now."

The hour was late. There probably would not be anyone else there; a perfect time for a diligent young archivist to catch up on her studies in peace, or so it would seem to the rest of the Temple.

 

[Valae Heavenshield]

As the lights began to flicker, Zora realized that perhaps it was a bad idea to anger a spirit. A silent gasp escaped her as a sudden and swift blast of unseen energy collided with her. In the same moment, her small bathroom was filled with strange static that dampend all sound – save for the ghost’s voice. Zora fell backwards, landing on her backside without a shred of grace or dignity. Darth Immortus spoke his request, or rather, his command.
Staring up at the floating apparition, the defiance in her gaze dissolved.

Her hand rose to push her glasses back up the bridge of her nose, and Zora got back to her feet with a groan. What luck, she’d fallen to the ground twice in one day. She avoided his gaze, thinking about the consequences. Zora didn’t want to lose her job, but then again, she didn’t want to lose her life. There was no telling just what this Sith spirit was capable of.

But, she also realized that he needed her.

“Very well,” She muttered and walked back through her quarters.

It was dark outside her windows now; it was unlikely that there were many out on the grounds at this hour. However, if there were… Zora wondered if any would take notice of this dark presence. As they went, the grounds were deserted – anyone with sense was sleeping, she supposed. Using her access code, she opened the doors to the archives.

“Erm, what is it exactly that you’re looking for?” She asked, breaking the silence. This time, she tried to keep her tone plain, so as not to agitate Immortus further. “We can get any sort of general information, but the Temple does have safeguards against intruders.”

While she knew he wanted something here, she doubted very much that he wanted to risk alerting the Jedi.

[member="Darth Immortus"]

 

[Darth Immortus]

Night at the Jedi Temple was placid. The courtyard was barren in the darkness, and no sound occurred save for the faint trickling of water from the fountain, which acted as the yard's main centerpiece. [member="Zora Djo"] strode across the courtyard, seemingly alone. But alongside her, ever present, the dark spirit lurked. It would not go away.

"Safeguards?" Immortus replied as Zora ascended the steps and neared the entrance to the monolithic archives building. "You still do not understand. I am you now, and you are me. We are one. There is no safeguard against a lone, innocent bookkeeper accessing the archives at night."

As their journey progressed, Immortus said nothing, instead doing his best to build up his energy. Even communicating with Zora was a slow drain on his Force energy, and so at times it seemed to the young girl as though the Sith spirit wasn't even there. The whole ordeal became dreamlike; perhaps she had only imagined Immortus after a long, dreadful day. But then he would resurface again to break the spell of hope, and remind her that indeed, this was no dream.

Once inside the archives, Immortus could see, through Zora's eyes, the massive expanse of holobooks, glowing blue and crystalline and stacked neatly on towering shelves that seemed to stretch on forever. This place was rich with knowledge - secrets of the Jedi, things the Sith were never privy to - and Immortus wanted all of it. He would stay here and drink up all the tomes the Jedi had accrued over the centuries forever, if he could. But there were more pressing matters at hand. All knowledge would mean nothing if he was confined to be a roving spirit forever.

"Find the mission logs archives," Immortus commanded. "The Battle of Coruscant, 205 ABY. Search."

In those files, both Immortus and Zora herself would find answers. The young archivist would come to understand the nature of the Sith Lord that haunted her. Everything would make sense, including the holocron she found. The once-ruler of Coruscant had been defeated ages ago and bound to a spiritual prison, and was now bound to her.

 

[Valae Heavenshield]

Zora’s brow furrowed, perhaps this was all just a dream. It was an odd sensation, she felt as though Immortus existed separately from her – but he didn’t, he was quite bound to her own being now. Still, this feeling waxed and waned. Goodness, she was glad that there was no one around to see her seemingly speaking to herself in the dead of night. Well, actually… she was guilty of talking to herself during the day, so it would not have been that far off.

“Fine, fine,” She muttered, defeated.

Stepping down the aisle, she listened as Immortus gave his next demand.

“Battle of Coruscant?” She echoed, doing the math in her head. It was so very long ago; she wondered what sort of records had been kept from that time. But, just like now, there had always been people like her – dedicated to recording the history of the galaxy. “Very well, then.”

Zora had a seat behind a console and performed a search for pertinent information.

Her round glasses reflected the light of the screen, and it wasn’t long before said display was full of text. As she began to read, there were already mentions of one Darth Immortus – ruler of Coruscant. Blinking, her thoughts turned inward, to the spirit that was now entwined with her own. My, he truly was ancient… wasn’t he? No doubt, he was taking this information in as well. Continuing to scroll, she waited for the spirit to respond and she waited to see what exactly this history held that was so important.

[member="Darth Immortus"]

 

[Darth Immortus]

The old spirit could see the lines of text as they flashed their way across the screen, glowing ice blue aurebesh that found their reflection in [member="Zora Djo"]'s glasses. Immortus took in every sentence as it was presented to him. Each new line of information rejuvenated his memories, made him more spiritually aware of himself. Twelve Jedi were hand-picked to form the strike team that assaulted Darth Immortus' palace. The whole event seemed to hold less gravitas as it was read from the Jedi archives, but Immortus' memories, having lived the event, were different. He remembered only three Jedi had actually managed to make their way to the top of his clouded spire, and he had personally slain at least one of them.

Saelia Santori, as well as Lord Immortus' son, were captured by the Jedi forces and turned over to the local populace. At this, the spirit grew cold. Yes, it was true... he had a family once. A wife and a son, and they weren't his first. Memories of his second wife returned to him at the sight of her name in glowing text; he was granted visions of their life together as though they had never left. He had never seen her again after his own capture, never found out the fate that befell her. Immortus was forced to read it in dry summary text, over six hundred years later. Of course, the official summary of the Jedi was their way of saying they washed their hands of Saelia and his son's fate, and the "local populace" were assuredly Coruscanti rebels. It didn't take much imagination to surmise what cold fate they met with.

Immortus' ghostly hand grabbed Zora by the shoulder; he wanted to squeeze and squeeze until all the life was sucked out of her and all his anger was released. But his ghostly image could do nothing, only apply a burning pressure to her shoulder as he gave his next command.

"What have they done with my lightsaber? They took it from me... surely there is information on my personal belongings."

 

[Valae Heavenshield]

Zora read the account that had been recorded; she even felt a small thread of sadness to see that the spirit had once had a family. But it was odd, she had never imagined that the likes of the Sith would have that kind of bond, were they truly capable? Nevertheless, she knew that there must have been a very good reason for the capture of the man once known as [member="Darth Immortus"]. No doubt there were unspeakable crimes to his name, if only she had the chance to delve further.

But before she could even move onto her next thought, she felt the dark power of Immortus seize her.

The archivist winced visibly, squeezing her eyes shut in the face of the unseen pressure being applied to her shoulder. She felt as though the bone might snap, so when the spirit spoke again, she could hardly respond. Reaching out with her opposite hand, her fingers worked the keys of the console. Opening her eyes again, she took a look at the information displayed before them.

“Dantooine,” She said, voice cracking. “Y-Your items were last recorded in an archive there.”

From what she could tell, it was a highly classified location. As she scrolled down, her brows rose slightly. “The archive… It was destroyed long ago.” It had been hundreds of years. At least, that was the official record…

 

[Darth Immortus]

A sudden silence fell over the dark room, like a chill of cold air, and Immortus' overbearing weight against [member="Zora Djo"] was gone. It was as though he was satisfied with her answer... for the most part. The old spirit could sense that she was not trying to deceive him; she was genuinely fearful of being hurt by his power. This was fortunate, because each assault against her was a sap on Immortus' already feeble energy. He would have to use it sparingly. But Immortus was confident that he had instilled enough fear into the poor archivist that she would do his bidding, for now.

Yet, the archive on Dantooine would be a gamble. With the archive destroyed, his belongings could no longer exist. Yet a gamble was all Darth Immortus had to return to life.

"You will take me there, Zora Djo. We go to Dantooine immediately."

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------​

Lightspeed engines whirred peacefully, a soft background thrumming that nestled the cabin of Zora's ship in tranquility. Yet even here, the Sith Lord's spirit still lurked, and neither the distance between stars nor the unholy hour of their departure could keep him from making his journey - at Zora's expense. He appeared to her now and again, sometimes as if to simply remind her of his looming presence, but now the old spirit seemed to grow more curious about her. Tones became more conversational.

"You were surprised at reading about my family," The spirit remarked, almost matter-of-factly. "Yes. It is a basic need which your kind so ignorantly deny themselves."

 

[Valae Heavenshield]

The Aventine was a ship meant for exploring. And as strange as the situation was, Zora supposed that they were on a mission of exploration. The archivist had purchased the ship only recently; she hadn’t even had the opportunity to get it out of the hangar since it had arrived. Though she had fumbled with the controls at first, she gained her bearings… and let the automated systems take over.

In the pilot’s seat, she was glad to be free of the pressing weight on her shoulders.

The grasp of the ghost had lifted when they were still in front of the console, and she’d wasted no time in setting Immortus’ plan into action. Perhaps it was cowardly; the thought lingered in the back of her mind. But it was difficult to protest when her will was not exactly her own.

Zora removed her glasses and rubbed her tired eyes. After such a long day, she wished only to curl up in her bed and fall happily into a deep sleep. That would just have to wait; she wasn’t even sure for how long. The trip to Dantooine was large uneventful, save for the Dark image of Immortus that drifted in and out of her line of sight.

“Erm,” She cleared her throat, surprised to hear the voice of the Sith spirit. “Yes, I was surprised. It’s not what I think of… when I think of a Sith.” It was an honest answer. “And, I’m free to have a family, if I wish.” Zora said, sitting up straight. “I… just…” She sighed. “It hasn’t happened yet. While I know what you’re referencing in the code, perhaps things have changed since you were… alive.”

There were several Jedi that she could think of that actually did have families of their own.

“I’m sure your descendants, if there are any, will be shocked if they hear from you,” She said with a sure nod. Reverting from hyperspace, the planet of Dantooine came into view. “Right, then… I’ll take us down.”

[member="Darth Immortus"]

 

[Darth Immortus]

The cloudy ghost of the old Sith continued to float in and out of Zora's periphery, appearing cold and watchful sometimes from his invisible throne in her mind, while other times disappearing entirely. When [member="Zora Djo"] spoke to him, Darth Immortus listened intently, the spectre's white eyes remaining frozen in place upon her. It hadn't happened yet? The spirit of Immortus became puzzled, as if trying to make sense of her comment.

"So young and fair... and yet utterly alone," The ghost finally responded, his eyes continuing to drink Zora in. The voice, like a pale whisper, continued. "No doubt consumed by books and work, while your life-force fades and your womb dries up, lost to time forever. A pity, Zora Djo, that your kind beauty will fall into lonesome oblivion amidst the stars, as you chose self-gratification over life."

The atmosphere of Dantooine was coming into view in the ship's viewport now, yet it did not awaken any of Immortus' memories. The spirit moved closer to the viewport to watch as mountains and trees and sun came into view, waiting to remember. The Force carried through the trees on the horizon; it was strong here, strong with a familiar sensation that spoke of past experiences. Perhaps it was only a feeling, but Immortus could sense that his items were close by.

"Yes... I had a family, once." The spirit said again, although seemingly more to himself than to anyone. He did not remember their names. They existed in his mind only as fleeting emotions and shuttering images. They remained out of his grasp because Immortus had not yet become himself. He would unlock them when he unlocked his own essence.

"Set the ship down over there," Immortus pointed to a clearing in the fields. When that was done, The spirit began to hover towards the exit on its own volition.

"The ruins are in the woods. We go now."

 

[Valae Heavenshield]

Zora’s eyes cut to the side as Immortus broke the silence. His words were like rubbing salt into an open wound, it stung. Was he really calling her lovely and fair? The archivist had a feeling that he was merely trying to rub it all in, the fact that she would likely remain alone for the rest of her life.

“That was cruel,” Zora said, sighing. “You sound just like my mother.”

It was very true; she heard things just like that during holo-calls with her mother, usually on a weekly basis. The only child, it was up to her to carry on the line.

With her mouth pressed into a thin line, she brought the ship down through the atmosphere of Dantooine. Clouds gave way to a landscape mottled with forest and mountains. With Immortus ever watchful, she brought the ship down in the small clearing. Turning, she spotted the dark spirit already moving through the air, on the way towards the exit ramp.

“Yes, yes…” She muttered, gathering up a backpack of supplies.

Heaving the bag onto her shoulders, she nearly buckled under the weight. But it was better to be prepared; she didn’t really know what would be waiting for them. And Zora had some thinking to do, while this ghost had done nothing to harm her yet… could she let his plan come to fruition? There was a nagging feeling within; it told her to do the right thing. She’d taken the dark presence away from the Jedi Temple, but now what…

The ramp lowered, allowing Zora and the floating visage of Immortus out of the ship.

"You seem to know the way," She said, brows lofting. "Lead on, then."

[member="Darth Immortus"]

 

[Darth Immortus]

"You should listen to your mother," Immortus gruffy rebuked [member="Zora Djo"]. "Instead you discard her knowledge."

The spirit said no more then, drew its eyes off the girl, and seemed cold and uninterested again. The landing ramp lowered to reveal the woods that waited. It was not a proper forest; more like a thicket that evolved from the grassland, and had grown over the ruins of the Jedi storage facility in the wake of human absence.

"I will lead us, Zora Djo. Allow me," The spirit said, and at once he was inside the archivist's body again, and it felt as though Zora's movements were not her own. Zora and Immortus glided down the landing ramp as one, and into the trees toward the decrepit entrance to the facility. The remnants of the structure were sunken, almost like a cave amidst the thicket where they lay.

Immortus moved Zora's arm forward, and for the first time, she would experience what it was like to wield the Force. A gust of energy burst forth from her palm, blowing away what remained of the entrance door to the structure, severed circuits in the door frame fizzling in response. The interior of the complex was a disheveled mess, looking as though it had already been raided before.

"My lightsaber is here, Zora Djo. I can feel it. You must dig for it. Search everywhere!" The spirit commanded. He needed to conserve as much energy as he could.

 

[Valae Heavenshield]

Zora ignored the spirit’s remark and suppressed the urge to roll her eyes. As she was met by the breeze of Dantooine, she turned her eyes to the scene before them. There were trees, but the oldest growth stood around a border – where the temple had once been. The area was overgrown with tall grass and spiny brush. And the sunket remains of the temple itself were visible as well.

Behind her spectacles, eyes grew wide. Her arm shot out, palm open. Zora’s mouth fell open as the sudden burst of energy shot from her hand. It was a completely alien sensation, but strangely exhilarating. What was left of the door’s fame was gone now, blasted away by the force that had come from her own hand –not truly from Zora, but from Immortus himself.

“Lightsaber?” She echoed, moving towards the ruins. Sure, she knew of the emblematic weapon, but perhaps not how personal and significant it was to the Jedi or Sith. Was it that important? She wondered silently. But, she had a feeling that Immortus’ desire for his weapon ran deep, far beyond a simple want or need to possess it again.

As she was about to ask where to dig, she felt the presence receded.

Blowing out a deep breath, she brought her backpack forward and pulled out a small shovel. Unfolding its handle, she plunged it into the ground. She tied her auburn hair back and tried to mentally prepare for the daunting task ahead of her. Already tired, the idea of digging was not appealing. Shoulders hunched, she trudged down towards the entrance. Taking a peek in, it was difficult to make sense of anything. Zora activated a light rod from her belt and held it up, she hoped the structure was still sound enough for her to enter.

“Here goes nothing,” She breathed out. With shovel in hand, she ducked inside and began to poke at the piles of dirt. There were structures beneath, the point of her spade tapped against them. Judging by Immortus’ location within the temple of Chalacta, she had a feeling that her quest would take her further inside the ruins.

“Am I close? Which direction?” She called out, though the presence of Immortus was there in her mind. Zora didn’t really want to turn this into a game of ‘hot’ or ‘cold,’ but any clue would be welcome.

With that, she started to try and dig a path.

[member="Darth Immortus"]

 

[Darth Immortus]

The shovel carved and scratched its way through metal and dirt for hours. There were not only relics hidden beneath the dirt, but decrepit chests containing long-forgotten items as well. Immortus demanded [member="Zora Djo"] crack those open with her spade as well, yet hours went by without respite for the poor girl. Finally, after his host's body was caked in tears and sweat, Zora's shovel sliced through the lock of one final chest, springing open the dust-covered metal top. The ghost's senses sprang to life; at once he felt a certain nostalgia, as memories that had been lost to the void began to return to him.

"My lightsaber."

The weapon was visible beneath piles of other detritus in the chest. A simple, elegant hilt, which once housed a crimson blade that had hewn through many foes. A hilt that had not left his side since his teenage years, many hundreds of years ago. The same blade that he once labored over in the cold wastes of Hoth, under the tutelage of the ancient Darth Midian. This was no mere hilt, but rather an item enchanted with ancestral memory. It would allow the spirit to rid himself of this prison for good.

"Take it, Zora Djo," The spirit urged. "Hold it so that I may become myself once again."