Private The Long Road Home

[Kyyrk]

C H A P T E R: I

Present Day
0100 hours
Naboo
​

The sun had long since set. Horace had departed for the night to hunt small rodents in the nearby fields. Kyyrk sat alone in the darkness with a bottle of whiskey. The past few months had given him much to think about. Sleep would be a long time coming for him tonight. He took a sip of his beverage, staring absently into the fire before him. He stood at a crossroads, where his next step would determine his fate irreversibly. For all that the Confederacy knew, the blind sage once known as Voph was dead. He had perished seeking to end the threat of the Cataclysm once and for all. But to a select few within the Presidium, the truth had been revealed: Voph was still very much alive.

The only question now: was he still worthy of that title? Kyyrk took another sip of the drink held loosely in his hand. In it shattered state, Kyyrk's mind had begun to reach out, calling upon the Force to supplement his memories by any means necessary. Srina Talon had commanded the man to do all in his power to rebuild that shattered mind, and to remember who he had been. Such a thing had been easy enough, once he knew where to look. In his own way, Kyyrk had documented his travels well. Though to anyone else, it would be anyone's guess as to what the man was documenting. Until one night, he was granted a vision. A vision he spoke to Srina about in vivid detail. He sought her guidance. In return, he was sent to the first place to appear within his vision. The ruins of the White-Gold tower on Vylmira. The item he had found within was simple, mundane even. Or so it would seem.

In private, Kyyrk told Srina of the significance of this item. It was a crystal he'd held dear. One he dared not touch with his bare skin for fear of the memories it carried. The wintered woman, acting on a hunch, dispatched a team in secret to the second of Kyyrk's visions. A small outpost on Belsavis. What they brought back was immediately identified by Kyyrk as a pauldron. One from a suit of armor he'd sought to create. But he was never given the chance. The Force was showing him something. He was being guided on a pilgrimage.

Now, nearly two months after the discovery of the crystal, the last of the items had been brought to him. He had been summoned to the Exarch's office, and presented with the package. The final piece of the puzzle laid before him. His business was concluded, and he was dismissed for the day. He'd hardly moved from the couch as he considered the ramifications of what was about to happen. He'd seen visions of his past already. Visions that filled the man with fear of the monster he'd become. He swore to never wield another lightsaber. And yet he was reminded of a creed he had taken as a child. To be a defender. A single scene, taken out of context, could paint an array of pictures. But as Kyyrk stared at the crystal lying on the coffee table before him, he was filled with doubt. What would these memories show him to be? A monster? A demon?

Kyyrk sighed quietly, and drained the rest of his beverage. There was only one way to do this. No sense in being coy about it. The coffee table was pushed towards the fireplace, allowing him ample room to kneel on the floor between the couch and the table. His gaze fixed upon the crystal that rested upon the table, flanked by the other items that had been gathered to feed the void within his mind. His brow furrowed as he studied the object. It was most certainly a Sith crystal, he could still feel the lingering traces of darkness upon it. Yet it was not created nor tortured like a normal Sith crystal. This one had been grown. A natural specimen. Kyyrk squinted as he studied the crystal closer. The molecular structure was nearly identical to those found on Ilum. But it was not an exact match. This crystal had been transplanted somewhere else. Kyyrk sighed quietly. Where, he could not tell. Not this way. Before he took the next step, however, he picked up his communicator. Something in the back of his mind told him that it was about to be a long night. A long, stressful night. A long, lonely night.

//Dinner tomorrow? Will be up late working on something. No idea when I'll have a chance to rest. Dinner is the soonest I'd be able to commit to something.//

The message was short and simple, meant for the eyes of Alessandra Creed , one of the few beings that had taken the time to understand Kyyrk. To help him. Even if she didn't realize it in the moment. Kyyrk set the communicator down on the table beside the crystal. The time was upon him. With a heavy breath, he reached out, hand held over the small lightsaber crystal, and his eyes slowly closed. His hand lowered, and his fingers wrapped around the item. As he touched it, it began to glow a soft blue, and emitted a gentle warmth into his hand. Like it was welcoming an old friend. Kyyrk smiled to himself, and then his mind was no longer his. A memory came rushing back, the scene playing across his mind as if he were really there. The long night had begun. It was time to learn what kind of a being he had been...

 

[Kyyrk]

C H A P T E R: I

3638 BBY
1549 hours
Dromund Kaas
​

It was a quiet afternoon in the small compound. Set on a hill overlooking the Citadel, and by extension Kaas City, the compound was the perfect place for a newly released academy student to study, and hone their art. Kyyrk sat in the mess hall quietly chewing his food as he listened to the banter and scuttlebutt around him. From the recent victory on Makeb, to the conclusion of the Dread War on the lava moon of Oricon, spirits were high within the Empire. The Republic had found time to rally, but the Isotope Five recovered in the assault on Makeb made for an impressive catalyst. Reports were coming in daily of Imperial Harrowers outclassing the Republic ships at every turn.

Kyyrk made no effort to join in the festivities, however. The other apprentices had noticed he was markedly more quiet since returning from Oricon. Which was saying something, as the man rarely spoke even on the best of days. "Hey blind guy!" One of the hot-shot apprentices called out, before lobbing a chunk of food his direction. Kyyrk lazily lifted a hand to absorb the hit, the gooey substance splashing onto his face and torso. He was used to this by now. The Empire was still very much Xenophobic, in spite of what some of the more well connected aliens might tell you. Add to that the fact that Kyyrk was old enough to have fathered most of these apprentices, and he certainly was an outcast. But with his age there came a cunning that most of the children simply did not possess.

Kyyrk looked up as he realized the chatter around him had ceased. A dark figure stood in the doorway. Darth Thalak. Their master. All the apprentices sat in fear, holding their breath. Thalak never interrupted mealtimes. The helmeted face turned to survey the crowd, before finally stopping on the hunched form of Kyyrk. "Apprentice Verros. Come with me." The very air grew cold with the threatening undertone carried in the man's voice. Though he was not on the Dark Council, many considered it only a matter of time before Thalak found himself answering only to the Emperor.

Kyyrk stood slowly, the servos in his legs whirring as he did so. He was recovering well enough from the landmine he'd stepped on those few weeks back, but it did not change the fact that he was now more metal than he was man. He turned, and followed Thalak from the room. His head was bowed, an obedient apprentice to the end. Thalak led him up to the furthest level of the compound, and out onto the balcony that overlooked the Citadel. He did not speak a word until they had arrived, and his guard was dismissed with a simple gesture.

"The Empire has taken note of your actions upon Oricon. You saved a lot of people through your actions. Were you not taught that helping others is a weakness, apprentice?" Kyyrk looked out over the city below them, pondering his answer. "I wouldn't call it helping." Thalak's impatience could be felt a mile off, even without the Force. "Explain." Kyyrk was silent for a moment longer, then turned to look at the man standing beside him. "I could not have destroyed the Phobis device without them. And, they now owe their lives to me. I did not help them because they deserved it. I gave them a second chance to make themselves useful to me."

Thalak was still for a long moment, then nodded. "You always were my favorite." Kyyrk allowed himself a hint of a smile, but it quickly faded as he looked back out across the city below. "I have been tasked with a mission of utmost importance. A mission I now pass to you." Kyyrk felt his heart catch in his throat. A mission? Again? Already? The burns anointing his face had barely healed from the last one. "I stand ready to serve, Master." Thalak produced an item from within his robes, and held it aloft, a hologram of a woman clad in Mandalorian armor appearing. "My agents have determined that one of my 'loyal' Mandalorian mercenaries is plotting against the Empire. Whenever I speak with her, she is nothing but loyal. I want you to ascertain the truth."

Kyyrk's brow furrowed as he studied the image, modified as it was to allow him to perceive it. "An infiltration mission." It was a statement. Not a question. Kyyrk was not as daft as to ask the obvious. "Correct. Her name is Jyseria. My sources say that she will be on Vaiken Spacedock three days from now. As you know, the Spacedock is a prime meeting grounds for the young and impressionable. She stalks those halls, looking for just such a victim." Kyyrk nodded. "How do I lure her out?" "She is attracted to power. For all her talk of decrying the Force, she cannot help but be enamored by it. She has no desire to control it, but to control an army of those who can."

Kyyrk arched a brow. "So she would seek to control the Sith." "That is what they tell me. Her Jedi pets, she can keep. But if this is true, she now seeks to command the Sith." Kyyrk nodded. "I shall depart immediately." Kyyrk turned to leave, but was stopped by a firm hand upon his arm. "You are taking your first steps into a larger galaxy, apprentice. Do well, and you will be rewarded. Keep me apprised of the situation. But once you leave this compound, you are not my apprentice. Just another wayward soul drawn to Vaiken. Use your best judgement. But understand that your actions are your own. I cannot protect you as I have."

Kyyrk was silent for a moment, then bowed. "I understand, Master. I will make you proud..."

 

[Kyyrk]

C H A P T E R: I
2215 Hours
Vaiken Spacedock
Three Days Later
​

Kyyrk was tired of waiting. He'd been searching through manifests and logs all day, but still no sign of the mysterious Mandalorian woman. It was clear to him that if she did not want to be found, she wouldn't be. Kyyrk sat at the bar, clad in armor save for his helmet. It seemed as good a place as any to watch and wait. "Is this one taken?" Kyyrk did not turn his head to acknowledge the human female that approached him. "It is not." The bubbly young girl sat down and ordered a drink that Kyyrk could not be bothered to pay attention to. "That's some impressive armor, My Lord." Kyyrk snorted. "I am but an apprentice, same as yourself."

The girl's brows shot up. "Oh! Your master must take very good care of you, then." Kyyrk finally cast his gaze upon the girl, noting that her robes were rather shabby. Even...burnt in some places. "Good enough." The girl giggled at this. "Fresh off Korriban?" "No." The girl nodded. "I can tell. Mistress says I have a wonderful sense of intuition. I'm Saras." Kyyrk grunted quietly. "Verros." The girl nodded, taking a sip of her drink. "Well met, Verros. So who are you looking for?" Kyyrk arched a brow, turning his head towards the girl. "You're looking for someone. I can just tell. Are you here to assass--"

The girl was cut off with an involuntary yelp as a bolt of lightning struck the bar between them. Kyyrk stepped away from the bar and drew his lightsaber in instinctive self defense. Those patrons smart enough to know what was coming began to make themselves scarce. "Saras! We talked about this." Kyyrk turned to see a Twilek Sith walking towards them. Her once brilliant crimson coloring had faded to a sickly pink. "No harrassing everyone you see. You naughty little girl. One of these days I'm going to make you learn." The girl had hastily exited the barstool, cowering from the Twilek. "Darth Isilith! We-- I--" Kyyrk's blade dipped towards the floor as he interrupted. "We were just conversing."

In the pit of his stomach, Kyyrk felt this may have been a mistake. The Twilek, Isilith, turned to him, scowling. "Learn your place, apprentice. This is a matter between Master and Slave." Kyyrk watched in silent horror as an arc of lightning shot from the Twilek, knocking the girl back into the bar. He stepped back, his off hand reaching back to steady himself. He fell against the bar as his hand made contact with his helmet, and grasped the mobile object tightly. It didn't give him the support he needed, but he would take it none the less. He pushed himself back to his feet, slamming the helmet down upon his head. As the barrage continued, Saras howled in pain, louder and louder she begged for mercy.

The blue blade of Kyyrk's lightsaber raised, and met the lightning, intercepting and stopping it. Isilith's attack relented for but a moment, before she sneered. "So it is to be like that, then? Stand aside, worm!" By now, a crowd was forming. Kyyrk still stood defiant between the deranged Sith and her apprentice. "The girl has done nothing wrong. And right now, the Empire needs soldiers. Stand down!" Isilith tutted quietly, walking towards Kyyrk and drawing her own blade. "I gave you an order." Kyyrk's grip tightened on his lightsaber.

In a flash, the two were on each other, blades hissing and crackling as they met, sending a spray of sparks this way and that as a table or chair were caught in the crossfire. Kyyrk was hard pressed to meet the Sith Lord's every blow, but somehow he endured. Eventually, in the midst of a saberlock, Isilith taunted, "You fight well, for a dog. If I cannot go around, then I shall simply go through." Kyyrk felt himself stumble forward as Isilith suddenly disappeared. He wondered for a split second where she could have gone, before the Force showed him a vision of her blade plunging into his back. He planted his front foot and turned, swiping down with his own blade to sever the Sith's hand, and then arcing the blade to rest beneath her chin.

The gasp among the onlookers was audible, as Isilith's eyes grew wide. Such a simple fight, and yet she had lost so quickly. "Stand down. Take your apprentice and go. We have a greater enemy to fight than ourselves." By this time, Vaiken Security had rallied, and came rushing to the aid of those involved. Sadly, such fights were rather common on Vaiken. Kyyrk let his blade dip towards the floor, before turning it off. As Isilith was being ushered to Medical, he could hear the whispers around him. Whispers that he must be a Jedi. No Sith carried a blue blade.

But that was not what concerned him. What concerned him was the being watching him from the railing above. Kyyrk turned to look up just in time to notice a suit of Beskar disappearing into the crowd. He frowned, getting ready to follow, but then a message filtered through his helmet's audio receptors. "Quite a display. I could use a fighter like you. Come to Tatooine in two weeks. Hope you have bail money." Jyseria. It had to be. Kyyrk smiled to himself. His first mission...his first REAL task in service of the Empire was well underway.

If only he knew where that road would lead...

 

[Kyyrk]

C H A P T E R: I

Present Day
0115 hours
Naboo
​

Kyyrk sat upright suddenly, gasping for air. He looked down at the Crystal clutched in his hand. He remembered it vividly now. A gift, given to him by Thallis. One of the other apprentices under the tutelage of Darth Thalak. It had been placed within his first blade, and kept close after the destruction of the same. Kyyrk reached up, and wiped sweat from his brow as he turned to look at the clock. Only fifteen minutes had passed. He sat on the floor, drawing breath after deep breath. He leaned back against the couch behind him, and closed his eyes. Saras. Someone whom he never encountered again after that day. Not in any meaningful way, at least.

Isilith had been found dead some days later, and Saras never returned to the Empire. Kyyrk would have liked to believe it was mere coincidence, but he could not be sure. He smiled to himself bitterly at the recollection of his first meeting with Jyseria. How a simple scuffle with a superior opponent had been enough to draw her attention. Thalak had quietly pulled strings in the background to ensure that his apprentice encountered no difficulty in clearing his name. He was, after all, viciously attacked by a senior Darth.

Kyyrk checked his communicator. No new messages. Alessandra was probably asleep. All the better. Kyyrk pushed himself to his feet, and grabbed the bottle of whiskey to pour himself another glass. As he took a sip, his gaze wandered to the items arrayed on the Coffee table. The next item was a breastplate. One that had seen the harsh onslaught of a thousand winters. Or, one really bad day on Hoth. Kyyrk sighed quietly. That frozen world would forever live in his memory. Just the name of it summoned visions of kneeling before the dark form of Thalak. Kyyrk suspected he knew what this memory would be. He had half a mind to skip it. But orders were orders.

He returned to his spot upon the floor, and laid his hands upon the breastplate. As with the previous item, he was able to experience its chilling touch for but a moment, and then his mind was whisked away...

 

[Kyyrk]

C H A P T E R: I

3637 BBY
0700 Hours
Hoth
​

Kyyrk watched his quarry in silence. His white armor blended masterfully with his snowy surroundings. He was practicing the technique that Erebus, his false master, had taught him to keep himself warm. Beside him, Thallis shivered. "Heating element die again?" "Yes. I do not understand how you can be so comfortable out here. I can't feel my toes any longer." Kyyrk was spared a response when another apprentice spoke up. "He doesn't have toes, idiot." The two men chuckled quietly. "You are still a pain in my ass, Vestara."

Kyyrk lifted the macrobinoculars to his face once more. Vestara was a Sith Apprentice already under the tutelage of Jyseria when he arrived. She was a favorite to become the first of the Tal Ijaa Lords, but Kyyrk had slowly taken that lead from her. Now, the two had been sent to Hoth for a join mission. One they both knew would have a clear victor. Kyyrk had elected to bring Thallis with him. Vestara asked only for one of the HK-51 droid models that had been recovered from Section X on Belsavis. They sat outside of the wreckage of the Star of Coruscant. A superdreadnought that had been shot down during the Battle of Hoth, and now served as a hideout for any resourceful enough to take shelter in its hull.

The White Maw were found in great number in this area. A local band of pirates, they had converted the ship into a veritable stronghold. Kyyrk and Vestara had been tasked with hunting down a creature that lived within, and retrieving an amulet the beast reportedly had. "Shift change should be in five minutes. If we're going to strike, we'd best do so now." Vestara nodded. "Same plan?" Kyyrk lowered the macrobinoculars, and nodded once. He pushed himself to his feet, and brushed snow off his armor. "With any luck, we'll meet you inside."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
​

Meet inside was relative. The Maw was better organized than the group of apprentices expected. Kyyrk was able to disappear within the twisting network of hallways easy enough. Thallis, on the other hand, had been forced to fall back. Kyyrk was on his own now. He moved as quietly as he could through the twisting corridors, attacking only the patrols that threatened to blow his cover. Kyyrk soon found himself in the maintenance tunnels above what was once a large hanger. Far below him, he could see a large beast rummaging through a pile of what appeared to be frozen components. Every so often, it would hold an item up for inspection, then consume it. Kyyrk couldn't tell from this distance if it was a Wampa, or something else entirely.

His brow furrowed as he noticed movement at the entrance of the hanger. A slim figure pulled herself up over the edge, and she immediately took cover behind a large chunk of ice. Vestara. Kyyrk watched silently. He had two options. Let Vestara claim the medallion, then take it from her. Or, he could risk the same happening to him. Worst case? He fought both at the same time. As Vestara moved in closer to the Wampa, she ignited her lightsaber, causing the beast to turn in surprise. A thought dawned on Kyyrk. If the pirates heard the sounds of struggle, it may draw their attention. The chance to uproot a beast settled so close to their home base? Kyyrk would take that chance too. He stood, and allowed himself to drop off the side of the platform. His own saber sprang to life as he fell, landing hard near the beast. It paused, looking back and forth between Kyyrk and Vestara. "I found it first!" Kyyrk chuckled quietly as he stood. "But will you be the first to kill it?" The beast roared and charged Kyyrk.

Sabers flashed as the two Sith moved and leapt in an acrobatic dance around the beast, vying for both the kill shot and the prize. Kyyrk could hear the yells and sounds of running men outside the hanger. They'd certainly drawn the attention of the Maw. Kyyrk turned towards the beast, ready to throw what he hoped was the killing blow, only to see Vestara standing triumphant over its body, holding the amulet aloft. He opened his mouth to say something, but the Force showed him something that stayed his tongue. Vestara was too busy gloating to notice. He turned, bringing his saber up in the nick of time to block an incoming sniper shot. It deflected perfectly back to the being that had fired it, dropping him from the rafters.

Vestara stepped back in confusion and fear. She hadn't anticipated the pirates. "Do not still your blade yet, Sister." Kyyrk ripped a grenade from his belt, and cast it towards the doorway, killing five as they breached the door. Cries of pain and death were drowned out by a rallying cry that the Sith were here. Kyyrk and Vestara surged forward, no longer fighting against each other, but in unison. Every move, every breath, a testament to their training together for nearly a year now. The fight was a bloodbath, leaving many a pirate gasping their final breaths in the snow covered floor. When the dust settled, only Kyyrk and Vestara remained. "Well done, children."

Kyyrk and Vestara turned to see Jyseria flanked by Erebus and Yorvin, Vestara's master. As well as a Cathar that Kyyrk didn't recognize. Jyseria stepped forward and held out her hand. "Which of you holds the amulet?" Vestara stepped forward and extended her hand to offer Jyseria the amulet. She looked down at the trinket, then back at Vestara. "That was sloppy, apprentice." Vestara's brow furrowed in confusion. "You should have known the Pirates would not be content to leave the beast alone. Were it not for the actions of your fellow apprentice, you would be dead." Kyyrk returned his saber to his hip, standing at attention as his comrade was lectured.

"Kyyrk. Step forward. Kneel." Kyyrk did as he was told, kneeling before Jyseria. "You alone have displayed the prowess of both blade and mind necessary to stand among the Lords of the Sith. I hereby confer upon you the rank of Lord. Rejoice in your victory." Kyyrk felt his stomach turn. This woman dared to carry the authority to name a new Lord of the Sith? "I am honored, Alor." Horrified, is what he wished to say. But it was not his place. Not here. Not now. Soon enough, his master would call him home. And they would strike down this upstart Mandalorian.

Kyyrk stood, the scowl behind his helmet deepening. He turned to look at the Cathar, wondering what her purpose here may be. As if answering his question, the woman spoke. "You four go ahead. I would speak with your new lordling." Kyyrk continued to stare at her. Another lecture from one of Jyseria's many friends about the virtues of being Mandalorian? And about how the Sith were far inferior to the master creed? Kyyrk held his tongue, however. The last thing he needed was another beating for speaking out against the Mandalorians. The Mandalorian's visor turned to look at Kyyrk. "You fought well today. Remove your helmet."

Kyyrk paused for a moment, then reached up to slowly obey the command. He lifted the helmet from his head, and as he did so, he heard another voice cutting through the icy winds. "Forged in the fires of ineptitude and strengthened by the kilns of idiocy. Such have been your masters of late." Upon hearing Thalak's voice, Kyyrk sank to one knee. "The Mandalorians know much of combat. Of war. But there is one thing of which they know little. It is time that you embraced your greatest strength. You have proven enough, Apprentice. It is time to come home." "Yes, Master."

Kyyrk continued to kneel, his breath catching in his throat as his master's blade ignited. "But you shall not return to the home you knew. I have seen your progress, and have deemed you worthy." Kyyrk could feel the heat of the blade on his shoulder, close to his neck. "A greater warrior I have never trained. But the Sith require cunning and stealth as well. In time, you shall turn your skill to these as well." The blade moved to Kyyrk's other shoulder. "The Octarchy Council has seen fit to overrule the rash decisions of a wayward Mandalorian, and hold you to the true law by which you live."

The blade withdrew, and Kyyrk breathed a sigh of relief. "Rise, Lord Verros. It is time for us to dismantle our enemies once and for all. There are greater battles at stake. We have wasted enough of our time here."

 

[Kyyrk]

C H A P T E R: I

In the time beyond memories, Kyyrk does not linger long. He is driven by duty. An obligation to his master. It would seem the Force has a lesson for him to learn. Curiosity drives him deeper...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
​

Kyyrk slowly became aware of his surroundings. An insistent, rhythmic beep sounded somewhere near by. Kyyrk felt weak. Weaker than he had in a long time. As his senses cleared, he realized it was a heart monitor he heard. He was lying in a medical facility. Of which he only knew because of the equipment surrounding him. Where was he? How did he get here? He tried to sit up, but an unseen force pushed him back down. Kyyrk grunted, as a figured stepped forward from the darkness. Darth Ilstera. He recognized her form instantly. She was only ever clad in robes. Never armor.

"No. You stay there. Let your hurt yourself worse than you already have."

Her commanding tone compelled Kyyrk to lay still upon the bed. It had been nearly a year since he and Thalak had made their move against Jyseria. The clan had scattered, and Jyseria almost escaped. But Kyyrk forever gained Thalak's respect and admiration when he told him exactly where to find the wayward Mandalorian. The resulting battle had been swift. In light of his promotion, Kyyrk had been reassigned to an enigmatic council of Sith known as the Octarchy. A council upon which his master sat. Kyyrk served faithfully, executing successful operation after successful operation. His work on Rishi and Yavin IV during the Revanite Crisis was commendable, and had earned the attention of many of the councilors. Ilstera, the leader, had taken a special interest in him, going so far as to have him officially apprenticed to her instead of Thalak.

Kyyrk lay still and silent for a moment. "Master. I'm fine." He could feel as well as see Ilstera's displeasure at his statement. "Like hell you are." Kyyrk could feel the large chunk missing from his neck growing more and more acute with each passing second. His body was covered in burns, cuts, bruises... Whatever fight he'd just been in, he'd lost. "That was stupid. Reckless. And you can only imagine what the other Sith are saying of me." Kyyrk could remember now. He'd gotten in a fight with a Zabrak. She'd goaded him, speaking ill of Ilstera, and of the Octarchy. Calling them all traitors. Kyyrk had attacked without a second's hesitation.

"You will listen to me, apprentice, and you will listen well. You will pick your battles wisely, or you will not pick them at all. That Zabrak did not pose a threat to us or our empire."

"Yes Master."

Ilstera drew closer, laying a hand on his shoulder. "Power is not to be brandished at every twig and sparrow you see. It is to be guarded. Unleashed only against the deserving. You have a duty, to yourself and to your Empire. I've said this, time and again, and yet you still do not listen." Kyyrk lay in silence, unwilling to say anything. Ilstera frowned, the Force gathering and dancing about her fingertips. "Let this be a lesson to you, then." Kyyrk could feel himself growing stronger, his wounds healing almost instantaneously. It was a rather unpleasant feeling, flesh knitting itself together. But moments later he was sitting up in bed, good as new. He wasn't sure what to think of this. "Forgive me master, but....how was this to be a lesson?" He turned to Ilstera, only for the horror of realization to wash over his face. She hadn't healed him, but merely transferred his wounds to herself. "Master, don't!"

Kyyrk sprang from the bed as Ilstera collapsed. "Nurse!" He scooped Ilstera up, placing her upon the bed he'd just inhabited. The medics were upon them in moments, helping to stabilize Ilstera as best they could. She, unlike Kyyrk, was not as vigorous. The wounds proved much more of a threat to her than they did him. Kyyrk stepped back, almost in shock, as the medical team crowded around Ilstera. A voice echoed in the back of his head. "You are my greatest champion, Lord Verros. I cannot afford for you to be laid low by wound and malady. Every scar you earn, I will wear in your stead. Chose your battles wisely. I cannot bear as many as you."

 

[Kyyrk]

C H A P T E R: I
​

The council chambers of the Octarchy would have been silent as the grave, were it not for the bickering of the councilors. Thalak had fallen in battle. Many found his apprentice to blame. Others blamed it on a rather nasty cell of Revanites. Either way, Ilstera was having none of it. "SILENCE!! THE LOT OF YOU!" A hush fell across the room. Ilstera was not a woman to be questioned on the best of days. And now, many of her fellow councilors wondered if maybe they had made the final, fatal overstep. Ilstera looked down at her datapad, sighing quietly. Her fingers ran over the tactile display, filling her mind with a myriad of information. She was making a gamble here. She knew who was to be Thalak's replacement. He just needed to follow through.

"Gentlebeings, we can argue about the cause of Thalak's downfall all we wish. The fact of the matter is, we are without a spymaster." Ilstera stood from her throne, clicking the datapad off. "Every second we waste bickering in here, the Empire moves ever forward. The Republic conspires against us, and we are blind to it all." The blind Darth walked towards the middle of the circle of thrones. "Our focus should not be behind us. But before us. We can mourn Thalak's death later. For now, we should focus on finding a suitable individual to take his place."

Ilstera fell silent as the Darths began to bicker amongst themselves once again. What of Darth Rue? Darth Illyon? Ilstera sighed quietly, lifting a finger to her ear. "Watcher. What news of Lord Verros?" Ilstera frowned, murmuring into the earpiece. Kyyrk had been dispatched to deal with a particularly brutal Sith, the Butcher of Yavin IV. She had grown...dissatisfied of late. Her quest for power and influence was getting out of hand. And so, Ilstera had sent her best to deal with the matter. As they spoke, Kyyrk was enacting his master plan. Though how sound a plan, Ilstera was not sure.

Kyyrk was a rather cunning warrior. Truly a pupil of Thalak's. He had moved to entrap his opponent in the ancient rites and rituals of Sith law. This was no ordinary assassination. No, it was a sanctioned killing. Kyyrk had declared a Kaggath against the woman. Though a Lord such as himself had little influence beyond his own blade. Ilstera was not sure how well he would fare against the armies of Darth Coryx. Ilstera's frown deepened when the Watcher told her that he'd no news of Kyyrk. He should have been back by now.

"Darth Illyon is but a child. He is not ready to lead a council such as ours." Ilstera turned her attention back to the matter at hand. "Then who might you suggest, Lord Archon?" The Pureblood glanced towards the doorway where his own apprentice lingered. "Darth Arvos is more than ready. Let him take his place upon this council." Ilstera pursed her lips. "So that he might better stab us in the back, same as he did your other apprentice?" Ilstera clasped her hands together. "We are the final salvation of the Sith Empire. We cannot allow the weak to lead our ranks. A day will come when the Sith are all but eradicated. And it is by our teachings that the Sith will be saved. Thalak was the best of these. Cunning. Willful. A skilled bladesman. A scholar. But most importantly, he was loyal to his brothers. He was loyal to us. Just as we were loyal to him."

Ilstera heard the doors to the chamber open, and gasps as the other Councilors pushed themselves from their thones in disbelief. A smile crept over Ilstera's face. Success, she had expected. But shaking even her Watcher? That was something else entirely. She turned towards the newcomer. "You know the law. No meeting of the Council shall be disturbed." Ilstera could picture the movement in her mind's eye. An arm lifting the helmet directly out in front of them, then a loud clang as it was dropped to the floor. Then a folding of fabrics and soft clink of metal as the figure knelt before the crimson Beskar helm. "Master. I have done as you have commanded. Coryx is dead." Ilstera humphed quietly, and turned back to her seat. She held her silence until she stood in front of it, and turned. "If you can think of any better, I await your decision."

A hush fell over the room, then the lords errupted into pitched arguing. Him? An alien? He could never be a member of the council. Moreover, he was not of an appropriate rank. Kyyrk knelt in silence, unmoving. Ilstera let the bickering continue, then held up her hands for silence. "My brothers. My sisters. I hear what you have said. And unto this I ask you: What of this disqualifies him?" Ilstera's hands fell back to the armrests of her throne. "You would look down on him because of his race. Because of his birthright. Tell me, then, where would the Lord Archon be if not for Lord Verros' coming to his aid? Where would Lady Temptress be were it not for his warning? And now we see the simple fact: He has killed Darth Coryx." Ilstera let the silence propagate amongst the council for a moment.

"We all know what must be done. If you have an objection...A real one...speak it now."

Kyyrk remained motionless before the helm of his enemy. But his senses were cast out to the Darths around him. They all looked among each other, as if asking permission to voice their concerns. Their prejudices. Kyyrk did not know of what mission he was being tasked, but he gathered it was an important one, if the Council was so hesitant to assign him. One by one, the councilors all looked back to Ilstera and nodded. Ilstera then stood, and spread her arms. "Witness, then, the dawning of a new age." Kyyrk's breath caught in his throat, and his head snapped up in confusion. He caught himself, and bowed his head once more. The dawning of a new age? Did Ilstera mean...?

"To rise among the ranks of the Octarchy is a feat of its own. To carry out its will is but another. This council recognizes the triumph of Lord Verros, slayer of Darth Coryx. To invoke the Kaggath is to make a gamble of strength. To win one is a testament of the same. From the ashes of Belsavis, this wayward soul has come into the Empire. With devotion he has served, and with loyalty he has fought. Truly, we could ask for no better. Today we bear witness to the will of the Force. Today, we strip away the vestiges of an old life. And today, we witness the beginning of another. Let his dedication serve as an example to us all."

There was no question. Kyyrk knew now what he had been summoned for. "Lord Verros. You have been judged, and deemed worthy of the Octarchy." She now spoke directly to him. "You have upheld her code, embodied her standards, and enacted her beliefs across the galaxy. Thalak rests in honor for having brought you into our fold. And so it is to no finer hands that I gift the seat your mentor once held. You are now one of the Eight. The resources and tools of the Octarchy are yours to command. But it is not lightly that we make such a decree. For you have been judged and found wanting. The code of the Octarchy forbids a mere Lord from holding station within it. And as such, there is but one reasonable course of action."

Ilstera's next words resonated within Kyyrk's mind as he stood. For such a simple command, it seemed as though Ilstera was commanding him beyond what the three words first intoned. A command that Kyyrk took to heart in the days to come.

"Darth Voph...Rise."