Private The Caverns of Bad Handwriting

[Calyx Sundrift]

T H E -R E D -L I B R A R Y
D E S E V R O

"They still whispered even as they died. "Final Weave". "The prophecy made flesh". "Her death crowns him". The words hissed around him, crawling like maggots through the air. Some fell to their knees in worship, arms lifted, faces lit with awe even as the blade came down. Others broke first, screams rising when they realized he would not stop. Their reverence dissolved into panic, but it was too late. He was already moving."

- Acier Moonbound​

Before him lay the scattered works of seven generations of Sith archivists. Softly glowing starmaps floated in the air, their constellations shifting in silence. Ghostly apparitions of long-dead Lords flickered to life from ancient disks. Three dust-caked tomes, their pages barely held together by cords, lay open among a tangle of notes, sketches, and cross-references in a chaos only Calyx could still decipher.

And in that labyrinth of knowledge, he'd only found a single footnote mentioning The Final Weave.

He leaned back, the high-backed chair groaning beneath him. A sigh escaped his lips, stirring motes of dust from the open pages. The Red Library had been his answer to the prophetic dream the Force had cursed him with. Something bound him to Acier Moonbound . Something that brought the creeping, invasive out-of-body visions that grew more vivid by the night.

He couldn’t recall all of them. Some vanished in a blink. Others were only sensations, like that sickening sensation of falling when you slept. But the massacre? That one stayed with him. The death rattles of the witches chanting about the Final Weave were etched into his memory.

If only he understood what they meant.

His careful attempts to question the instructors had led nowhere. So, his answer to the dreams was the Red Library. A labyrinth of forbidden knowledge. Except - it was off-limits to acolytes like him, who'd joined the Sith unwillingly. It'd taken him more than just a bribe to get through the door.

And now he would leave with even more questions than he’d arrived with.

Calyx raked a hand through his hair, eyes drifting toward the shelves he knew belonged to Sith Sorceries. Maybe he could at least make the visit worthwhile.

Then another thought surfaced.

The lower levels.

They were inaccessible to any but the Archivists. Marked as dangerous. Even Mustafar's caverns were considered safer. Rumor held that the Lower Levels were the kind of place that swallowed explorers whole.

Despite that, he already knew what he would do. The decision was made the moment curiosity took root.

But there was one problem. Going alone would be suicide. Even the regular library visitors had warned him. If this was going to succeed, he needed reliable company.

But not an archivists. They weren’t supposed to let him in at all. Can't ask the Lords either. They’d use him as a trap springer. Other acolytes? He scoffed under his breath. Right. Because they’re oh-so capable and reliable. Idiot. Silently, Calyx weighed his options, the faint hum of the holodisks filling the almost-empty chamber.


Varin Mortifer

 

[Varin Mortifer]

He hoped he would find some sort of history material on Ignati. Though he was but a mere hollow shell of his god-like being, his power still overflowed and overpowered Varin in his highest emotional states. Like two snakes caught in a coil. Where one loosens the other tightens hoping to get the winning hand. An everlasting struggle and battle. It cost him so many times before. Burned him so many more. He had no choice but to come to The Red Library.

A building with a wealth of knowledge. Knowledge of the common, the rare and the forbidden. It was a place of last resorts, the kind of place where even the dust that settles on tomes would tell ancient history.

He had already spent hours in this building, looking into ancient religions and deities both remembered and forgotten. But not once did The Eater of Suns come up. A being his late family worshipped, a being that brought great prosperity to his people. But also a being that like the name suggested, brought ruin. Already the pile of discs and holocrons were beginning to build, already he had slid a second table to his position. His head pounded with an ache that he felt if taking in one more word would cause it to burst.

Why don’t you talk to the source boy?

Varin sighed in frustration as Ignati broke his concentration.

“Because you could twist the knowledge into any way you wanted, judging by these tomes I’m also starting to think you are not what you say you claimed to be. No mention of Ignati, no mention of The Eater of Suns, nothing!”

He threw the book down with a resounding echo, causing nearby readers to glance in his direction.

There is but another area of the library you could try.

Varin’s curiosity piqued upon hearing those words. He had been dining on the subpar junk food of knowledge he was ready for the quality feast that would soon hopefully come.

“Oh you would know wouldn’t you?”

Varin’s frustration came out with his words almost like venom.

Ever since your meeting with Lord Lechner you have been very….distant?....Perhaps even cold. All i was doing was my duty.

Varin’s fists balled tightly.

“You know what was happening. You cost me. You embarrassed me.”

A stranger approached Varin as he spoke.

“Excuse me sir, must you speak so loud? Some people here went through a lot to get here and you are breaking focus.”

Varin’s eyes glared towards the stranger. He was quiet for a moment, but a rumble could be felt in the air.

“Very well.”

He stood up from his seat, the chair screeching across the floor.

These libraries usually have a more secure section. Mainly for those with…much higher clearance. Perhaps that will suffice?

Varin stopped mid stride as he came across the doorway of another room, the table filling with holodisks. He peered in seeing another stranger. No, not a stranger. He recognized him from the acolyte bootcamp, not too long ago. A very capable fighter. And one who loves to study it seems.

Varin spoke quietly before he would make any other movement.

“Mind if I come in?”

Calyx Sundrift​

 

[Calyx Sundrift]

Calyx sat hunched over a pile of papers, eyes fixed on the crudely drawn maps at the top. The ink of the map was smudged, the lines uneven. It was an archivist’s crude draft of the Dathomirian records stored in the library’s lower levels.

He shouldn’t have been able to get it, but when the archivist had turned away, he’d taken his chance.

At the time, it had seemed like a pointless risk. Now, he was grateful he had.

Still, mounting an expedition below couldn’t be done with silence and secrets alone. They’d need equipment. Keys, torches, rations. The essentials. Fortunately, weapons weren’t on that list. When Kasir had caught him, he'd not had his lightsaber with him. But on his request the Covenant had transferred some of his old apartment's stuff. Among it, the saber he'd stolen from Drystan Creed at the Dark Court's refinery. It still didn't feel like his, but a lightsaber was a lightsaber. You didn't complain about having one.

“Mind if I come in?”

Calyx’s head snapped up, hand instinctively moving to cover the map. His eyes narrowed as he recognized the scarred, broad-shouldered figure standing there.

He knew that face. Well, knew was a strong word.

"You’re Varin, right?" Calyx turned slightly in his chair, a grin tugging at his mouth. "From that deathtrap the instructors called ‘a lesson’?" He gestured toward the scattered papers. "Calyx. And yeah, come in."

With Varin’s arrival, the odds tilted in his favor. Convincing a stranger to go exploring the forbidden levels would’ve been a lost cause. But someone familiar? Someone capable? That was different.

He just needed to find out whether Varin had any interest in what lay below.

"What’re you digging into?" he asked, motioning toward the man’s side of the room. "Anything good? I’m getting nowhere here. Could use a distraction."

Varin Mortifer