The Palace of Mirrors

[Darth Abyss]

Among those that traveled through space to the outest edges of what could barely even be described as civilization anymore many tales were shared. Legends and myths of the horrors of space, of strange beings ruling in the darkest, most corrupted corners of the galaxy, of cursed pirates devouring the souls of those lost on their voyage and assassins that hunted in the name of the darkness. Little do they know that most legends are born from a far more deranged truth.

Another tale commonly told by drunken smugglers, pirates and scoundrels alike is that of Far Harbor, a hidden world claimed to be filled to the brim with unending riches, but also with dangers that no mortal man could stand against. Little do they know that most legends are born from a far more deranged truth.
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Far Harbor, World's End

It had been some time since Abyss had accepted an insect as an apprentice on the path of the sith, since a lesser being had been allowed to obtain what twisted, endless wisdom slumbered within the darkness encased in hollow steel. Darth Mara had ascended to a knight of the sith, and found her own path of spilling and drinking blood, a path of influence, power and wealth much like that of her master. Abyss had granted her freedom to walk it to the end, only occasionally emerging from the shadows to oversee and guide her growth in the dark side.

Now [member="Vereshin"], a brittle little man with a surprising talent for the arcane arts, had taken her place on the side of the Mindeater, a questionable honor many would refuse to avoid the struggle, pain and injury created through mockery and deception alike that the eldritch husk was notorious for among the other sith of the empire. While those that worked with the Prophet could only tell about the advantages of having the strange being as an ally, those that worked for often didn't lived long enough to complain.

Slowly the small shuttle was descending down on the surface of the broken world nearing World's End, a small base camp build between the toxic, radioactive wastelands in the south and the droid inflected, broken and volcanic ruins in the north. The fragile sorcerer had asked him to learn about the arcane arts, and Abyss would do his best to teach him, by throwing him into a place so terrible that Vereshin's only chance was to learn or to die.

The ramp opened, allowing the wicked figure of Abyss to step out into the cold twilight of the dead world. Two of his men began to unload the shuttle, placing two heavy bags besides two speeder bikes that would allow them to move over the surface quickly. The collection of items was topped of with a standard environment suit to guard flesh from the eroding effects of radiation, a tool a entity as Abyss no longer needed. He turned to his apprentice, looking the man up and down before allowing his voice to echo through the cold air.

"Last chance to turn back apprentice. Fragile bones will be easily be broken by the horrors of Far Harbor."

The horrible laugh of the being resounded around the metallic husk, the mockery in it impossible to miss. This what his apprentice had desired, a teacher, one that would do everything to fuel the fire of hate and passion burning inside of him with whatever method he had at his disposal.

"Now carry my bags, little one."

 

[Vereshin]

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eh9jasOpzoU​

Uncertainty and regret gnawed at the back of Vereshin's mind. The shuttle ramp lowered onto the strange and desolate plains of Far Harbor and he followed behind his new master warily, swallowing the fear rising within the depths of his conscience. He bound himself to a Sith Lord in pursuit of greater power, only to be wrenched away from his sedentary life. A strange smell gripped the air, paired with windless atmosphere as he befell the discolored sky of the broken world. He wore a light tunic over a shirt and loose pants tucked into boots which laced up the front. Hiding behind his scarf, the Acolyte did not repress a gulp as his master spoke.

"I'm not that little!" Eyeing Abyss up and down as the Sith Lord laughed, his brilliant green irises glared subtly in the toxic sun. Abyss commanded him and Vereshin creased his eyebrows in displeasure. He focused on breathing deeply and calming his mind with the Force. That he was terrified was no overstatement. Glancing over the two bags, he strode forward and tried to grab both of the handles. Fatigue weighed on his chest as the bones in his thin hand ached. He set them both down and realized he would not able to carry them without the aid of the Force.

Taking a long breath, the sorcerer closed his eyes and concentrated deeply. He extended his telekinetic grasp through his hands and surrounded both of the bags with energy, allowing him to barely lift them and continue walking. Every stride was painful and required all of his focus. Letting the power slip through his fingers, he managed to follow Abyss to the base camp. Vereshin surrendered his body to attain strength in the Dark Side, now he would be forced to utilize it in a practical situation. There was no time to prepare for a ritual, he needed to learn to apply his strength instantly.

They arrived at the base camp between the toxic South and the volcanic North. Vereshin sighed heavily and released his grasp in front of the Sith Lord. The bags fell at his feet as he stared at Abyss with resent. He sat down on a waiting bench and opened one, pulling out what looked like a protective suit.

"Good lord, are we going swimming?" Vereshin asked with monotonous sarcasm. He didn't much like the feel of the material, nor the idea of being encased. A guard opened a container baring bottles of water and he quickly grabbed one and eagerly drank it. The night had yet to arrive and already he wanted to go home.

[member="Darth Abyss"]

 

[Darth Abyss]

The husk walked behind his apprentice, his unmoving, grotesque visage unable to show the satisfaction he felt while watching the young sith struggle under the weight of physical labour. [member="Vereshin"] would never grow strong in the more common sense, not with the chains of flesh still keeping him bound to his brittle joke of a body, but if he wanted to survive the live of a sith then he still had to reach the limit of what was possible within his boundaries. Running and hiding could be a very straining experience, a lesson Abyss learned when he still had been an apprentice himself, and one he would pass on to his newest apprentice today.

"In due time you will wish we were apprentice. Even the depths of the darkest seas are gentler places then the Palace of Mirrors."

As the twisted voice died down, the words were once again followed by the bizarre cackle of the Mindeater. Abyss was not one to be annoyed by humor and sarcasm, things he appreciated in his own strange way, but the fragile sorcerer would very soon learn that there was a time and place for jokes, and a trip to the Palace of Mirrors certainly didn't meet the criteria.

Effortlessly the husk reached for the two bags, lifting them up like they had no weight at all. Quickly he tied both of them to the two speeder bikes prepared for him and his apprentice, before moving he metal shell to sit upon the vehicle that would carry them deep into the radioactive, toxic wasteland the war of the endless night had left on Far Harbor.

"I would advise you to wear the suit, at least if death by radiation is not what you meant when you came to me begging for my insight."

He waited for a bit, giving his apprentice time to put on the suit that would allow him to traverse the hell of the broken world unharmed. Then a metal claw reached for the controls of the speeder bike, kicking the small vehicle into the limit of possible acceleration. This was already a test. Piloting vehicles through dangerous terrain wasn't a typical sith skill, but Abyss wasn't a typical sith. He expected those he taught to learn a myriad of obscure and less obscure abilities to serve him in a fashion that exactly suited his desires.
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Far Harbor, The Palace of Mirrors

The pair would pass through the toxic wastelands, past the Silent Watchers, fallen broken watchtowers erected by an ancient civilization, past the cursed city of Innsmouth where hundreds of thousands were sacrificed in one of the most deranged blood rituals even Abyss had ever heard from, past the Altar of awaking where the darkness that destroyed Far Harbor first began to whisper into jedi ears, until they reached their goal, the twisted towers of the Palace of Mirrors.

To Abyss it was a storm, a place where entropy had entirely replaced the laws of reality, where even to borders of the mind had long been lifted by magic so powerful that it reached the limits of his own comprehension. To his apprentice it would be a maelstrom of arcane might, so strange, so alien compared to the arts of the sith and jedi, the nightsister and any other order that had dabbled into the arcane applications of the force, that he would be unable to even see the Palace for what it was, but instead only layers and layers of shifting, ever changing illusions.

The husk descended down from the speeder bike, his robe dancing in the slight wind that blew over the crippled surface, his empty eyes locked on the door awaiting their entrance.

 

[Vereshin]

The Acolyte stared down at the suit while his master laughed at his sarcasm. Rubbing his fingers across the harsh material, he did as he was told and unzipped the front. He stepped inside and fastened the mask over his head while watching the guards do the same. Hopping on one leg while sliding the other inside, Vereshin's eye caught the sight of his master preparing the speeder bikes and dread rose into his throat. Once he zipped up the suit, he wandered over to the speeder bike waiting for him and eyed the controls like an alien object. He had never piloted one of the things before and could only watch and observe his master's actions.

Sitting down on the bike, Vereshin gazed over the controls and absorbed the numbers. He realized he would need to rely on the Force once more and took a breath to gather his focus. Every mundane task assisted with developing his arcane reach before the true challenge arrived. Once the bike started, he could control it to a degree, after he located the right gear to start the engine. A guard stood watching him with a certain pity and strode over to twist the handle into the first speed. Nodding in thanks, Vereshin placed his foot down on the control and the bike lunged forward. His heart jumped into his chest as he tried to keep the speed low.

They passed the toxic wastelands and the fallen watchtowers and shortly Vereshin caught up to his master. Keeping the speed low, he encircled the bike with his mental hold and managed to control the trajectory. The engine pushed it forward while he focused on controlling the balance and speed. The exercise prepared his Force output to prevent him overexerting himself when confronting whatever lay within the Palace of Mirrors. Riding along passed his master, the young man managed to release the handles for the moment while controlling the bike with his telekinetic grasp. Coursing through the city of Innsmouth and the Altar of Awakening, Vereshin watched his master arrive at the palace before him and stop at the entrance.

Slowing down his hold in the Force, the bike began to swerve out of control and moved far beyond the entrance where Abyss stopped. Batting his fingers over the handle, Vereshin twisted the gear into the stop position and the bike halted into the dirt. Suddenly he felt thankful for the protective suit as he fell over the side and planted his hands on the ground. The experience left him shaken and he quickly found his feet before running away from the vehicle. Struggling to move in the suit, he felt rather ludicrous scurrying through the dull earth to find his master. He arrived at the entrance and meet Abyss, slowing down his run to walk towards the Sith Lord and nod his head.

"Can I take this thing off now?" Brushing his hand passed the hood, Vereshin duly noted that they were far away from the radioactive wastelands. He desired his clean sight and ability to cast against the challenges to come. Removing the mask from his head, his vision became clear and he befell the sight of the palace. His eyes widened in awe above the slight parting of his lips as he felt the power surge from the halls within.

[member="Darth Abyss"]

 

[Darth Abyss]

The slight shake of Abyss head was almost unnoticeable as the husk witnessed another facet of the weakness that crawled over every cell of his apprentice. Surely a master of the arcane arts could traverse the galaxy without falling back on technology, but [member="Vereshin"] was still far from a master. Until then he would push, break and belittle the tiny sith with everything he could think of, so he would learn, grow and evolve from an annoying failure into a true asset to Abyss and his operations.

Quietly the hollow entity stood besides the fragile sorcerer while he released himself from the suit that kept him shielded from the deadly radiation that still lingered almost everywhere on Far Harbor's south. Yet while his apprentice had survived this small danger, the real struggle was still ahead of him. The palace of mirrors would teach him that worldly means were nothing compared to the endless darkness and chaos the force could summon in the hands of those with incomprehensible insight. His left rose into the air, the metal claw pointing at the heavy door that departed master and apprentice from their first test. Moments later the door slowly opened up, not by the strength of Abyss invisible hand but by itself, the ancient magic awakening once the dark tendrils of the Mindeater reached for the faded ruins.

"Remind yourself that your eyes and ears can easily be deceived apprentice. Do not trust them. Your mind has to be bastion, or else only I will leave the palace of mirrors."

With this last bit of advice the husk set in motion, measured, calm steps carrying him into the twisted halls the scholars of the great beyond left behind after their world was shattered by darkness and war.

Not even Darth Abyss the Mindeater, one of the most powerful and most feared mentalist in the entire galaxy, was able to entirely resist the ages old spells that were placed upon the palace. His lack of physical eyes and ears made it nearly impossible to trick him, but the scholars had been true masters of their craft. The energy of the dark side was flowing freely, the entropy of the tainted force clouding Abyss perception like no other place could.

"The palace is a patient, calculating opponent. Your sanity will not be shattered, but broken piece by piece."

The hall that greeted the two upon entering, a blank empty room that apparently had no doors began to warp, the walls shifting and changing as reality was bend under the weight of the palace's curse. Where before only had been a wall was now a collection of three doors, each of them pulsating with energy. Abyss could hear the call of each of them, he could hear the ancient whispers that desired to undo master and apprentice alike.

From behind the first was a clear call of power, a seductive pull that promised the knowledge that empowered the ruin. In truth there was a near empty library, one that Abyss had discovered on his first exploration into the palace, the bookshelves inside occasionally filled with books that spoke of insight but brought only madness.

The second door screamed with fear, telling a tale of death or worse about everyone that had ever entered. Even looking at it was enough to summon the most personal terrors a being could experience, keeping most of the living from ever walking through it. Behind it was a path that truly lead deeper into the palace, instead of another illusionary maze. His apprentice would have to face whatever fears were hidden at the bottom of his heart to continue.

The third door was shrouded in a fog of a strange calm, a otherworldly serenity bordering on cosmic indifference. Behind it waited a plain room, and those that stepped in never left once their mind embraced the blessed curse of the eternal emptiness.

Now it was up to his apprentice to find his way through the broken halls, towards greatness or death.

 

[Vereshin]

Stepping out of the protective suit with haste, Vereshin felt the scornful gaze of his master while he found his feet, standing to behold the looming palace. Brushing his hands through his hair after being encased in the suit, he shook his head and neatened the front of the light tunic. His lips parted in a subtle expression of awe as he watched the huge doors unfold to reveal the dark hall within. Hearing the words of his master, Vereshin strode up the stone stairs leading to the entrance of the palace. He received Abyss' words sincerely and heightened his senses in preparation.

"I understand, master." Vereshin uttered. A gust of wind billowed through the clothing of two Sith as the doors opened with esoteric force. With a step forward, the apprentice entered the palace alongside his master. The shrill echo of their feet traveled from one glossy wall to the next. Marble surfaces of navy and indigo morphed and changed between the dull light. The acolyte repressed a gulp and sharpened his mind as the archway moved overhead. Eyes widened and scanned the stone for any unexpected traps before Vereshin and Abyss stopped before a black wall. Slowly, shapes began to form into the end of the corridor and three large doors appeared out of the light.

Each door radiated a tangible and unique form of energy. The first communicated a vision of vast knowledge and great power which piqued his senses and intrigued him the most. Beside the first door, the second one screamed into the minds of two Sith and threatened a terrible fate, tapping into every personal fear Vereshin harbored. The energy surged forward and caused to step back on his feet. He gripped the side of his clothing while diverting his attention to the third door. An ethereal calm resonated from the third door and soothed the mind of those who looked upon the entrance, promising a noiseless tranquility and eternal silence. While the first seemed the most tempting, the third did not appear threatening at all. Looking over each handle, he swallowed his temptations. He was tired of being afraid.

Vereshin gazed upon the three doors and considered his options deeply. The first welcomed an easy path to power, a simple doorway to vast knowledge and great feats and the sorcerer knew such a promise was never so simple. The third breathed uncertainty, a noiseless void of neither pleasure or pain. The second door, though unpleasant, carried a fate all Sith must overcome in order to break their chains. The personal fears Vereshin repressed every day to scrounge for his meager living, chains he could only defy by facing directly. The second door promised terror at first, before a greater fate once the initial guise was defeated. Breathing deeply and taking a pause to prepare his mental defenses, Vereshin strode forward and gripped the handle of the second door. He turned and opened, beholding whatever the darkness unleashed.

[member="Darth Abyss"]

 

[Darth Abyss]

The second @Vereshins hand wrapped around the handle the room around master and apprentice began to warp once more, first only subtly, the distortion growing with every newly opened inch of the door. When the gate of fear was pushed open fully, the world around the small sith was shattered until nothing was left. No roof, no floor, no walls and no doors, only endless, cold darkness that encased him. Even the twisted figure of his master was nowhere to be seen.

Abyss and the palace had a history that reached back years, when the sith lord first stumbled into the cursed ruin. Back then he and the ancient magic had fought for days, until their battle reached a stalemate. To say that the palace was a thinking, feeling entity was an overstatement, but neither was it merely a mindless spell that commanded the arcane illusions. Abyss was yet to figure out what exactly, but at least he and the ancient magic reached a unspoken agreement. As long as the sith lord would refuse to erase the palace, he would be allowed to traverse through trough it relatively unharmed, and in this case he was even granted the right to watch as his apprentice suffered under the cloak of darkness that the magic had summoned.

Suddenly the darkness broke apart, and the fragile man would find himself back in the home where he was born, comfortably placed in the bed of his home on Ziost. On a chair nearby his mother rested quietly, looking at her son with kind, warm eyes that measured him up and down. To Vi it would feel like he had just awoken from a bad dream, like his father had never forced him to walk along the dark path of the sith. Slowly the woman rose from her chair, walking over to him and carefully placing a hand on his shoulder.

"I was worried sick Vi. You were gone for so long, but you're finally back. I missed you."

The hand on his shoulder reached around his neck, as the woman made an effort to embrace her son in a long hug. It was the illusion of a world with no worries, no darkness, without a cursed palace that challenged him, without a hollow lord that mocked and belittled him. For a moment the scene stayed as it was, only the sound of their breath and of the slight wind outside filling the air. Soon that would change. As Abyss had told his apprentice, the palace had spend eternity with crippling the minds of those caught within, and it had grown patient.

 

[Vereshin]

The walls surrounding Vereshin gave away to leave planes of inky darkness. As the door opened completely, he found himself losing his grip on the handle and stumbling backwards as the black panels closed around the room, leaving the feint sound of a distant wind to course through their dispersing spaces. Snowfall contrasted with the opaque shadows and began to filter in and surround the Acolyte. The feeling of icy cold pierced his garments and brought him back home with the gust of a familiar blizzard. Raising a hand to shield his eyes, he wrapped his arms around the height of his body to shield himself from the cold of Ziost, only to open them before the surroundings of his family home.

Sitting up in bed and wrapped in a fur blanket, he saw all the signs of a backwards village, untouched by technology or any modern hand. The dirt floor and bare wood panels, heated by an open fire in a cage. Portraits of icons, Sadow and Ragnos, framed in filigree, sat above incense and filled the room with a bare trace of colour. Derelict plaster peeled off walls and gas lamps provided the only illumination. Vereshin wrapped the fur closer over his body, he felt sore yet did not bleed, he ached but recalled no struggle. The thin frame of his mother, her inky tresses wrapped in a head scarf, coiled boney hands over his own as he sat up to face her.

"Hello my little scholar, did you sleep well?" Vereshin's mother greeted him in the common Sith tongue, as though he had just returned from a long journey. He had abandoned the Sith to return home, having forsaken his training to retreat to the comfort of his mother's arms. He only froze in the bed and stared at her widely, lingering on the brink of consciousness and still struggling to comprehend where he was. "Your father and I are so glad to have you back." Suddenly, the happy dream drew to an abrupt close and Vereshin felt his chest tighten in panic. The lean and bearded figure of his father loomed in behind his mother and fiercely gripped a hand over her shoulder.

"You failed your Sith training." The man stated in a low and demanding tone. Vereshin watched his mother's smile turn straight as she looked at the dirt floor. A long pause held the room as the young man struggled to speak before his father, he rolled his eyes over the ceiling and spat on the floor. "I gave you a chance to prove yourself a man and you spend your days with the Sith hiding in the library!" The man released his grip from his wife's shoulder and a threw a fist downwards. She said nothing and only looked at the ground in submission before her son, who coiled beneath the fur blanket and waited for his mother to say something.

"Your mother will have you home but I won't let you stay under this roof until you can defend it." The man shoved past his wife, who remained on her knees and grabbed Vereshin by his shirt at the chest, pulling him out of bed and forcing him to stand. He felt the cold greet him and shivered beneath the poorly insulated walls. "Now dress yourself, we have work to do." The man grabbed an axe leaning by the wall and thew his fur cloak over his back, leaving the house and waiting for his son to follow. Standing in his tunic, Vereshin gripped the fabric on his thighs and shifted his eyes amidst the rising fear, looking occasionally to his mother who remained kneeling on the dirt.

"Mother?" Vereshin stammered while the woman scrambled to her feet and looked for his garments. She helped him into thick layers beneath a fur cloak and armed him with a light sword and dagger, as though she seemed to know what his father planned for him.

"It is not her job to protect you, son." A gust of wind blew in from the door way where his father stood and waited for him to follow. Wrapping the cloak around his form, Vereshin sighed deeply and buried his rising fear, following the vision outside and into the Ziosti wilderness.

[member="Darth Abyss"]

 

[Darth Abyss]

Carefully Abyss watched as his apprentice went through the vision of a life that could've been his own if he refused the darkness, taking in every little detail that would allow him to further taunt the little sith with his past in the future. The palace had changed, or maybe Abyss had since taking on another apprentice. All he could say for sure was that the strange spell was even less hostile the expected, seemingly aiding the Mindeater in his attempt to forge [member="Vereshin"] into a powerful master of the arcane. It was quite possible that the palace had accepted them not as sith, but as Scholars of the Great Beyond due to their desire for the arts that could warp reality like no other.

The trip into the wilderness would be rather uneventful, besides the constant hardship in the words of Vi's father. Abyss wasn't aware if it was a depiction of the truth, or an exaggeration created by how his apprentice had perceived his home, but the words thrown at the fragile sith would've been enough to make less sane man go ballistic in far less time then they would spend in the wilderness.

Yet the true test, the true struggle the palace had found to fill the heart of Vi with fear was not the wilderness and not his father. While the brittle man was still caught in his illusion, the place brought Abyss back into the illusion of the home, allowing him to watch as a dark being rose within it. The palace would prove Vi's father right by showing him that he was to weak, to fragile to save his mother from the horrors of the galaxy, once his father had been erased of course.

 

[Vereshin]

The Ziost wilderness loomed ahead of the father and son as the vision continued deeper into Vereshin's memory. The snow grew thick as he struggled to move his feet, requiring every ounce of strength to pull himself through the thick surface. They moved into a clearing surrounded by trees and the remains of ancient statues, overgrown with moss and succumbed to time. His father stopped ahead and looked over his back with severe disappointment, silently cursing the boy with his gaze as he stopped, weary with fatigue.

"Look at you!" The man boomed over the harsh wind of the snow. "Too weak to face the outdoors of your own home, you're a disgrace! Pick up your feet and move!" Receiving the words of scorn, Vereshin felt a pang of rebellion rise within his chest and he planted his feet firmly in the snow. He stopped directly in the center of the clearing and refused to move. "Vereshin! Do you hear me!?" The man shouted at the top of his lungs and caused the snow on the tree branches to fall. His son stood deathly still, widening his gaze and looking around innocuously. He coiled his fingers in the fear he repressed. A long pause waited between them and Vereshin's father stood in his rising rage, eyeballs throbbing in frustation as he waited desperately for the young man to acknowledge him.

"No, father. I did not hear you." The pause ended and Vereshin answered monotonously, the sarcasm hanging deeply on every one of the few words. He did not estimate that his father would truly harm beyond his insults, he wanted him to grow strong. The two of them simply possessed greatly different ideas of the meaning. "Care to speak up?" He continued to bypass the vision by diverting his father's attention.

"Defend yourself!" He down his hand and sent the axe into the snow. He raised his fists before Vereshin and threatened to strike him if he did not fight back. The anxiety returned and the young Sith recoiled as his lean father arched his arm to strike the first blow. Planting a foot backwards in the snow, he slammed his eyes shut and lunged a hand forward, freezing the man in his telekinetic grasp. He regained his thoughts and breached the dimension of vision, making it his own and bending the realm of the palace to his will. He turned the plane on his father and pierced the conscience of the fabrication, turning all the terror of the palace into the mind of his father.

The man raised his hands with an indignant shriek and grasped his head in distress as Vereshin transported him into a plane of indescribable horror. Particles of light dispersed from the shape of the vision and the image of his father melted away like ash. The form began to contort and spiraled into a faceless void as the matter collapsed and the plane opened into another realm. The cyclonic black sphere opened and Vereshin felt his feet being pulled in as the palace transported his mind with the destruction of the vision. He released his hold and let it take him away. The snow and the trees sucked into the consuming maw and pulled everything from connection and into darkness.

The void engulfed Vereshin's mind and the image of him on Ziost disappeared. He felt the physical ground appear beneath his feet once again and when the imagery appeared before him, the walls of the palace and the face of his master returned. The second door in the wall, still open and waiting for him to step inside. Breathing fiercely, his forehead and neck damp from exhilaration, his eyes darted from every wall and back to Abyss, to make sure he had truly returned to the reality he knew.

[member="Darth Abyss"]

 

[Darth Abyss]

Merciless. That was the word that first came to Abyss mind when he watched the way his apprentices erased the illusion of his father. For once he was impressed with the fragile sorcerer, not just because of the coldness of his heart, but because of the method he used. Abyss too had often used the weight of a mind, in most cases his own, to break those of others, without the need to ever teach him such a technique.

When the illusion, at least the one within the illusion that was the whole palace, broke apart and released Abyss and [member="Vereshin"] back where this little vision quest had begun the husk still stood motionless, the approval he felt within not shown by any word or gesture, as it was tradition among the sith.

"Come, confronting your little fears took us long enough."

With that Abyss began to walk through the open door, and deeper into the heart of the palace. Something was utterly different now. The palace still used his curse to push and deceive Vi, but Abyss himself wasn't only untouched but guided by the darkness that reigned over the ruin. That proved his theory right, the palace had accepted him as one of the scholars that had build it, granting him the possibility to train his apprentice in way no other place could offer.

As he continued his path, he and Vi reached a corridor, a door awaiting them at the end of it. Yet despite the steps they took, the door itself would not move closer even an inch, the room extending every time without any optical feedback. Abyss knew what this was, as he had been meet by a similar test in the depths of tomb below Korriban once. It was a test of will, and of patience. At first it would seem like a little annoyance at worst, maybe even funny to those like Abyss with a rather odd sense of humor. With every passing minute it would grow worse, what felt like a joke would quickly become a test of resolve and sanity, once it turned out that every direction would now lead them nowhere.

 

[Vereshin]

As he found his feet on the floor of the palace, Vereshin received his master once again who delivered no trace of verbal praise. The sorcerer collected himself and stood up straight, ready to follow Abyss into the next realm of the palace. They passed through the door in the center of the hallway and entered an adjoining corridor. The presence within the structure grew strange with every passing step, as though the vision before the eyes of the two Sith was no longer what it seemed.

They entered a long corridor with a bleak door situated at the very end. Black and white tiles covered the long floor and stripes painted the walls and ceiling. With every closing step, the door appeared further and further away, as though the space between them would not disperse. Vereshin stopped in his tracks and placed one foot ahead. The door moved away. When he pulled his foot backwards, the door moved closer.

"Curious..." The sorcerer raised a finger to his chin in thought. The spell did not aggravate him, but rather piqued his inquisitive fascination. Vereshin loved puzzles. He immediately began to scour his thoughts for a possible solution. Outstretching his arms, he moved his hands forward and tried to encircled the mass of the door, using the force to pull it forward, to no avail.

The thought occurred to Vereshin that if the door did not respond to an external force, then the door itself must be an illusion. He extended his palms and reached for the particles of light making up the image, dissipating them into shadows. Opaque shapes morphed into an odorless smoke as the door broke away, leaving nothing but a bare stone wall and no way for Abyss and Vereshin to pass through to the other room. As he walked forward, the wall did not move away, signalling the end of the spell.

A feint trace of wind blew in from a crevice and Vereshin knew the blank wall lead to an opening somewhere. He walked forward directly towards the end of the corridor and planted both hands against the stone. The matter beneath his palms collapsed into space and distorted into a visceral spiral. The loose stone compacted into a black sphere in the center of the hole which soon shrunk to make way for an opening. Blue candlelight shone through and showed the apprentice and his master a way to the other side.

[member="Darth Abyss"]