Cedric Grayson
Ashlan Kaiser
Valley of the Dark Lords Excavation Site, Korriban, Ashlan Crusade Militarized-Zone
The excavations had been carried out in secret for several months now, any purview into the valley prohibited by word of the Ashlan Kaiser. The official reasoning behind the dig was to search for any Sith weapons left forgotten from the time of their empire, though the truth was a far more uncomfortable one. The excavations were undergone entirely by droids whose memories were wiped at the end of each shift; the only organics involved being a few engineers that had served Cedric long before he ever wore the title of emperor. Their loyalty was the most precious resource the Crusade could offer, and it seemed to Cedric that it was becoming a rather rare commodity as of late.
Every goal he had set forth for himself had been reached. Every challenge achieved. What remained of the Sith lingered in the shadows, or at the beck and call of his father's old apprentice, and that horde would eat itself in time. Soon Solipsis would have his day, and then finally the cleansing could begin. What remained of Sith culture across its ancestral worlds was even now being stripped away, catalogued, and either burned or shelved into the vaults for what might well be a millennium. No one aside from the Kaiser and the most trusted of the Ashla's servants would be privy to their contents.
In that vacuum, a new ethos could be forged. What remained of their society would be recast in the Essonian image, just as the Ashlans had been. What had once been his single dying race was now an entire culture, a spiritual force, so wild and strong that it no longer needed his guidance to thrive, though that guidance would continue to remain so that its true potential might be achieved. The genocide of Ession no longer defined her children; their conquest of the Sith and the reclamation of worlds not held for thousands of years would be their mark left upon history.
For the first time in a generation, the Essonians could know rest, but then resting on their laurels was a surefire way to collapse into irrelevance, and Cedric had rarely known idle hands.
The excavation of the Valley of the Dark Lords reached its completion the day before his arrival on Korriban. It was nowhere near its grandeur in the days of yore, nor its state under the late Sith Empire, but the infernal echoes of a thousand generations of hatred still screamed across its sunbaked wastes all the same. Never had Cedric set foot in a place so steeped in the vileness of the Bogan. It was akin to stepping into a pressure tube, the dry air seeming to cling to his body like a wet bedsheet. The sensation was more physical than he could have imagined, as if the valley itself recoiled at his unwelcome presence. The Blade of Ruusan hung even heavier on his belt, so much so that he was forced to grab the ancient weapon to keep it from falling and sinking into the dirt.
Faith gave way to willpower as Cedric trudged on, jackboots crunching through the dirt until he reached what felt to be the focal point of the valley's disdain. Two of the excavation droids dipped toward him in a brief show of artificial respect before trundling off to continue their work. A battered pillar that looked to be as old as the planet itself jutted upward from the spot they'd been working on, and it was there the Dark Side pooled.
The Ashlans had purged much of this world, but his brothers and sisters would not be allowed to set foot here. This place had a purpose to serve. The exile set both knees into the dunes, steeped his fingers, and drew his eyes closed as he began his meditation.
The empyrean was a violent surging thing here. On Ession, it was a calm vibrant sea filled with diverse life living peacefully in company with one another. There was energy there, and desire to, but it was tamed, restrained. It worked in harmony with itself. If Ession was a calm sea, then Korriban was cauldron of magma. Any flicker of life that could not withstand the superheated chaos was either purged or consumed by another more suited to survival. Disharmony was the way, cooperation a sin, a weakness, the largest consumed the small and each decision was taken with only the advancement of the self in the natural pecking order considered. It was life at its most monstrous, and yet it was life all the same.
The Essonian Jedi drew in a deep breath and envisioned a bubble forming around himself within the empyrean's waters as he exhaled. The physical pressure of the Dark Side's presence vanished as the breathing technique took into effect, and Cedric slowly rose to his feet once more.
The corruption of the Bogan staved off for the time being, Cedric keyed his gauntlet-comm into the frequency of his primary liaison. "Decius, inform the local PDF that any ships headed toward my coordinates are to be permitted safe passage. Detain any other unofficial landings as usual."
"Expecting visitors?" The aging soldier's voice crackled back.
"Perhaps. You ever hunted feral Kath hounds?"
"Once or twice when I was a boy."
"I'm going to be doing the equivalent of goring a Nerf and leaving it out to scream all night. See what comes looking."
"Shall I ready the division?"
"No, that would spoil things. Just monitor my vitals and keep this between us."
"Always my kaiser," conversations with Decius were always brief, which was part of why Cedric enjoyed the old man's company so much. Niceties grew more exhausting the further the years went on.
His conditions met; Cedric strode toward the pillar once more. The Blade of Ruusan roared to life, its cyan light bending unnaturally from the apex of the valley's vile energy. Setting aside any trepidation, Cedric stabbed the blade into the heart of the pillar, searing through the sandstone and the Bogan within. The pillar exploded with a violent shockwave, throwing Cedric clear off his feet and sending his lightsaber clanking across the stone. Bits of shrapnel bounced off the phrik plating beneath his chest piece, knocking the wind out of his lungs but leaving him otherwise unharmed.
A whirling vortex of what Cedric could only describe as the Dark Side made manifest hissed in the pillar's place, thrusting up toward the sky in a stream of purple light. The fusion of the Force nexuses created a reaction most unnatural, one that could be seen from Korriban's orbit if one was to look.
So too did the beacon scream out into the cosmos, echoing across the galaxy like a ripple that grew louder the farther it traveled. Any force-sensitive paying the least bit of attention might feel it rushing past them, and with a bit of effort, narrow the pulse back to its point of origin.
The call was made, and the path was now open.
All he had ever dreamed of; he had achieved with the Ashla's boon. Why then, he wondered, did it feel like it wasn't enough?
