Myth
S H E P H E R D
Tag:
Khamul Kryze
BEFORE | Kestri
Tytos paced back and forth across the Bral be Ka'ra, the center of the Nau'braar's guiding light for the Iron Covenant. Only a hum of the kyr'latr crystal array, imperceptible by audio but ever present through the Force, accompanied Tytos's footsteps. A Mythos Guard stood at attention just on the other side of the door to the chamber, Tytos knew, but he was alone on the platform.
Out the other end, through an open-air balcony, stood Kestri. The Nau'braar was positioned on the top of Tor Valum, which was situated in the highest peak of the Cin'cirri mountains; in other words, the view from the Nau'braar was absolutely stunning. Tytos had grown somewhat accustomed to the view. Especially recently, with so many jumps by the fleet and transmitting across such long distances, Tytos spent more of his time in astral attunement than anything else these days. Yet even when he did have rare moments for rest, the moment he closed his eyes, they would haunt him.
Most called them dreams. But Tytos's dreams almost always came true.
Fire. Darkness. A sister. Her children.
His footsteps echoed clearly against the cold metal floor of the chamber. What did it mean? What did any of it mean? Out of instinct, or habit, or both, a hand drifted towards the talisman that hung from his neck. It glowed faintly, throbbing, with green energy. The Manda was active; it was alive. It was trying to tell him something...
Evaar'la Manda'yaim. It was as if a congregation of voices whispered in his ear. Tytos whipped around and, seeing no one, stopped dead in his tracks. He noticed that his breathing had become elevated. That world. He had heard whispers. The secret stronghold of the Death's Hand, the cult following of the Mand'alor who had sworn himself to Solipsis, to the Sith. Apostate. Traitor. Tytos realized he was still holding onto the talisman, clenched in his fist, and that it now glowed brightly, the heat almost burning his palm through his thick, gloved hand.
What was the Manda trying to tell Tytos?
He looked over Kestri's wind-swept mountains, covered in ice and permafrost. The sun reflected in millions of tiny ice crystals in the noon-day glow, as snow blew off ambiently from the crests of the indomitable mountain range. But Tytos's eyes had a far-distant look to them. He had always, no matter what, answered the call of the Manda. Its promptings always brought him to where he was needed most.
Was he needed on New Mandalore?
NOW | Rakata Secundus, "New Mandalore"
The Taung shoved Tytos to the floor, his knees buckling and bending. His arms had been restrained by binders, made of pure beskar -- even with the power of the Force, it was not something easily broken. A similar restraint gagged his mouth, only permitting him to breathe, however scant. His helmet had long been taken from him; it now sat cradled in the arms of one of his Taung captors.
"We found him on the outskirts of Kandaasa, Mand'alor," One of them said, Galactic Basic unnatural in their throat. "His weapons," they continued, bowing on one knee and ceremonially presenting Tytos's blaster pistol and beskad on the ground before him.
Tytos looked up, his eyes straining, though he demanded discipline and restraint from his body. Struggling would do him no good now, he knew, as he stared directly at what most called the Apostate, but who called himself Mand'alor the Unchained.
Khamul Kryze.