Sith Tomb King
Dagobah, Sluis Sector
For millennia Erebus Ignosi had remained entombed beneath Exegol's surface, slowly regenerating after being gravely wounded during a battle against another Sith who had chosen to take residence on the world. But that foe, along with Exegol itself, were little more than space dust now. Ignosi's cult had tended to him but it was only upon the arrival of a descendant of his bloodline at the eve of Exegol's destruction that the ancient Lich had awakened from his slumber, and aided by absorbing the death and destruction occurring around him the Midnight Ziggurat rose from its resting place beneath the planet's surface and took to space.
Guided by his distant progeny
Perfect.
From the sanctum atop the Ziggurat Erebus watched the marshlands below slowly come into view as the temple descended, as if falling in slow-motion. As his domain lowered itself, his thoughts drifted to the last fruit of his dread bloodline. He had expected his name to fade into the sands of time, his bloodline to wither away, and his works to be mistaken for myth, yet he awoke to find the Ignosi line unbroken. A thread—thin, but unsevered—pulled through centuries of filth, ignorance, and mediocrity to manifest in her. She carries his blood, though the galaxy has done its best to dilute it. Still, a spark remains. He could see it in the way she handles the alembic, the way she listens to the whispers of reagents, the way her mind bends instinctively toward the unseen architecture of enchantment. She sees patterns where others see mystery. She sees opportunity where others see danger. In this way, at least, she was his truly of his blood.
Only time would tell if the other Sith of this age would live up to his expectations.