Phantom of Death
It had only been a few days since his return to Korriban, and from afar, Kasir already found himself tethered to the intricate web of politics— a game he simply didn’t care to play. When duty waned, Kasir often gravitated toward refining his skillset; the nearby academy offered the perfect space. The dark energy here felt ripe, much like the hidden enclave on Mustafar— a place where he felt truly connected to himself.
Amid a budding alliance, his role as a blade was deemed necessary; he was already informed that his presence would soon be required for other matters here. Any form of collaboration had always been a struggle, even within his own doctrine, and now he was being thrown into unfamiliar waters. For someone who thrived in solitude, he was now grappling with the demands that diplomacy might bring, though he did understand the potential for both sides, along with aid in retrieving the Disciple of Faith.
Hours upon hours, he honed his lightsaber skills, navigating through complex sequences of raw motion; for Juyo, it demanded nothing less than total surrender.
Going through the motions, there was something else, something unnerving at his consciousness; it was as if the air whispered of observation.
Furthermore, the Darkseekers instincts told him he was not alone. As beads of sweat trickled down the side of his face, he scanned the pillars and other surroundings, senses extending to their full capacity, searching for the source.
Try as he might, he was met with only emptiness.
Upon completion of his training session, the temple's alluring pull became almost irresistible. Rather than retreating from the academy's grounds, he opted for meditation in his current position, to seek clarity. With elegance he lowered himself to his knees. Here, upon a planet where many Sith legends were buried, he allowed the tendrils of the Force to envelop him, delving into calmness amidst the chaotic energies. Feeling the power begin coursing through him, he started to murmur the lines of the Sith Code.
The Sangnir's mind revolved around recent success: the battle at Woostri, a mission to Naos III, and the breaking of a Jedi's mind on Enarc. With everything combined, it placed him back on the path to mastery. Having endured trials that only left him battered before then, the taste of victory was more satisfying than ever. The failures had become like fuel, mixing with frustration and fear to create a fire that kept driving him forward.
Descending further, the darkness enveloped him, its icy grip both comforting and unforgiving. Kasir's breaths became measured, matching the void he now traversed; clearly, it was a place where compassion and peace had not once ever dwelled, not even in his youth on Dromund Kaas.
Seconds bled into minutes, and after a period of being lost in time, the Force soon began to stir once more, a ripple jolting through his being, pulling him from the depths of meditation, and into the present.
More than a simple disturbance, it carried the presence of someone approaching. Yet, it didn’t resonate as a threat, a sensation that felt almost foreign to one so often surrounded by danger. Moreover, it didn't seem like a friend, nor a foe, but something entirely different.
Silence stretched for several beats until a figure now standing before him finally spoke; the was voice smooth yet carried an air of authority. “Kasir Dorran, you have been summoned by the First Lord of Korriban.”
He lingered on his knees a moment longer before finally beginning to rise; and as he stood, his gaze, sharp and focused, absorbed every detail of the messenger. His mind, like a machine, began to process the knowledge gathered since Wonosa's arrival, along with what was bestowed upon him by the High Priest.
Even in silence, there were notes of defiance, but he would allow himself to be led to the Palace of Vardin.