S H A D O W
Allyson was growing tired of the nightmares.
They always came in fragments, filled with images and messages for which the Corellian had no context. Tonight brought a new one, vivid pictures of a tomb hidden deep within a jungle, untouched by sunlight for centuries. Allyson sat up in her bed. She was alone tonight—a rarity these days, with her Minister summoned away for official business. Allyson's presence wasn't required; her business tonight lay elsewhere.
Still, for a brief moment, she missed the woman.
A soft groan escaped the Corellian as she pinched the bridge of her nose. The visions she'd dreamed felt hauntingly real. She wondered if they were memories belonging to someone else or, worse, a call from the Force itself, urging her toward whatever lay at the bottom of the shaft she'd repeatedly fallen through. Her eyes shut again, and the images replayed urgently as if desperately calling her.
"FINE," she shouted into the empty room, flinging the sheets aside. Padding across the wooden floor, she began to dress. Since arriving in the Ison Corridor, nothing seemed to make sense anymore.
//: Tython //:
Arriving on Tython was already problematic. The Jedi tightly controlled access to the planet, but getting through the Blackwall had been easy enough—her reputation within the Empire cleared the way. Allyson was relieved that no one on Tython seemed aware of her betrayal. Some even greeted her warmly, like an old friend. Apparently, news of her crimes had yet to spread this far.
Because of this, gathering information proved simple for the former SIA agent. The Jedi were forthcoming, explaining that the tomb she sought belonged to lost Templars—ones who had shown immense promise and whose deaths were mourned deeply. Am I looking for a dead guy? she wondered silently as she ventured into the jungle. Why would the Force send her after someone long dead, and potentially a Jedi at that? Nothing ever made sense anymore; even Empyrean's teachings couldn't offer her clarity.
Questions continued to plague her.
The temple and tomb were hidden deep beneath the tangled roots of Tython's jungle. It had taken several days of searching to find them. Still, when she finally arrived, the age of the place was unmistakable. It was of the High Republic era, ornate and elegant in the fashion typical of Jedi structures from that time. Her fingers traced the worn curves of the etched lettering. The language hadn't changed much over millennia. Still, the words were so formally structured they read like a sacred prayer designed to ward off looters.
Clearly, it had been effective. Allyson stepped back cautiously, vividly recalling her dream. Somewhere nearby was the hole—the same one she'd repeatedly fallen through. At least, she thought ruefully; the dream had prepared her to avoid it.
Or so she believed.
As she stepped back, her eyes scanned the area around the pillar she'd touched. Unfortunately for the Corellian, her dreams had never shown this part. She only ever touched the pillar, and then she'd fall. True to form, the ground suddenly vanished beneath her feet. Allyson plunged downward through crumbling foliage, scrambling futilely to catch hold of any ledge along the smooth shaft.
Nothing slowed her descent. Allyson instinctively drew on the Force, strengthening her muscles and body as she braced for the inevitable impact. Suddenly, the shaft opened into a vast chamber; a massive casket loomed below.
Thud.
Her body crashed onto the ornate tomb, bones cracking from the impact but thankfully neither breaking nor fracturing. Everything simply hurt. Allyson lay still momentarily, glaring upward at the hole she'd fallen through, sighing in frustration. Why couldn't she ever avoid falling—or at least soften her landing? Once again, she cursed the Force for its cruel games.
Slowly, she sat up, palms pressed against the cool stone surface of the casket. Up close, it was far larger than she'd imagined, with intricate baroque patterns adorning every inch of the massive tomb. Sliding off its surface, Allyson felt every carved detail beneath her fingers, discovering with curiosity that the entire structure hummed with electromagnetic energy. The coffin wasn't just decorative it was ancient technology.
Her eyebrows rose in excitement; she had to figure out how to open it. Allyson ran her hands along its edges, circling the tomb, fully absorbed. Her fingers brushed against a hidden panel, which opened to reveal an ancient computer screen filled with unfamiliar characters. It wasn't High Republic script, nor Sith; it was something entirely new.
Frowning, Allyson pressed her hand to the panel, coaxing it open further. Her mechu deru easily dismantled the security systems, yet after a moment, nothing happened. She hesitated, glancing around for booby traps, but the chamber remained silent, quiet enough for the dead to sleep.
"Oh, you piece of bantha chit," Allyson muttered, kicking the panel in irritation. "OW!" The material was harder than expected. She hobbled backward, only to freeze as the entire chamber began to rumble, gears grinding to life within the casket. Drawing her bow instinctively, Allyson watched as the tomb's lid shifted and toppled aside. A platform rose slowly from inside, revealing a thick carbonite slab, the serene face of an armored figure etched upon its surface.
"Carbonite?" she whispered, stepping closer again. The shaking subsided, and Allyson probed carefully through the Force, examining every inch. Typically, people weren't buried in carbonite—this was meant solely to preserve the living. Fingers tapping thoughtfully against her lips, Allyson considered her options.
She could alert the Jedi and allow them to handle it, attempt to remove the artifact herself and bring it back to Jutrand, or wake whatever was trapped within. The choice was easy, and moments later, she was typing furiously into the terminal, bending the ancient system to her will through the Force.
A sharp hiss filled the air as mechanisms activated, beginning the carbonite's thaw. Thankfully, the slab reclined slowly, now flat rather than displayed upright as a work of art.
Not wanting to appear hostile, Allyson tucked her bow away, heart pounding with excitement as she waited eagerly for the frozen being to awaken.
