Private The Witches's Consultation

[Darth Empyrean]

Ryloth │ Outer Rim
Mid-Day

---

Ryloth was a planet of extremes; of darkness and light, of burning suns and tearing winds - it was a harsh, unforgiving world that produced some of the most beautiful aspects of the Galaxy. The Twi’lek, the floating rock caverns amidst the twilight, and more - all encouraging visitors to find meaning in the natural beauty, the essence of what existed as is. Yet, it was not what Maliphant had come for.

The twilight realm between the two extremes held a number of cities, idealistic areas of great renown - almost everything one could wish for in a world in the Outer Rim. Its harsh withdrawal from the hyper packed city of Coruscant was a culture shock, but it would pass - a thought he ruminates on as his ship burned through the upper atmosphere for the Vureshakkairn Castle - the current home of the Mandragora. Maliphant had not been in contact with much of the CIS for years, especially not since his memory was cleared and he was made more docile than his alter ego once was -

No, he had sent a message before hand. Informing the Dathomiri why he came, what he intended to get out of, and that he was willing to pay. Of course, he kept a number of details to himself - he hoped to explain his condition in person. The devastating nature of the Netherworld’s curse upon him was far from something he wanted to explain in words.

“We’re here, Sir.”, his pilot offered with a quick backwards glance to him. He noticed his hand idling on his own chest, directly over a spot of pain he hadn’t consciously noticed. Maliphant quickly pulled it away and moved to stand, slower than the last - a sign of how quickly it was progressing.

“Transmitting landing credentials now.”, the pilot offered.

Maliphant slowly walked to the ship’s departure ramp, an iron cane supporting his weight. Its rythmic metallic click bothered him, a monotonous reminder of his weakness it would seem. He grit his teeth as the ship made landfall and the ramp opened, light flooding into the ship’s bay.

He stepped out slowly into the Castle grounds, waiting for whoever would be sent to welcome the Sith Lord to the planet.

[member="Vytal Noctura"]

 

[Vytal Noctura]

On one hand, the Nightmother could leave it to others to greet the man that sought their council. To be aloof and not one to scurry to every visitor that arrived at the castle. It had been a thought. Such airs, however, did not seem well worth the risk. As a child of Dathomir -- born and raised on that unforgiving seed of darkness -- she knew well what Sith and their Lords were capable of. Their treacherous ways full of selfishness and manipulation. Those she led her were smart, wise, and capable in their own right, and yet Vytal did not like leaving them to suffer a Sith Lord should this turn into just another selfish pursuit of power.

Was she biased against their kind? In a word, definitely. Too often had men (and some women) of the Sith Empire exploited the Clan Mothers for knowledge. Whilst the Mandragora were open to all, Vytal would not let the Sith come here in the hopes of taking advantage of the scholarly pursuits. Trust would not be earned by felling one beast in the forest. Certainly not for a Sith.

Nevertheless, she was set on the Mandragora being a place of learning and would not turn away any reasonable student or practitioner of the spiritual arts. So long as none tried killing their fellow sister or brother, overthrowing the Confederacy of Independent Systems, or ending 'the world' much else could be forgiven. Even atrocities of a Sith Lord... provided the spirits attested to the authenticity of such a Lord's effort to become more than what they once were. Though the Fanged God help those that slaughtered or abused any Nightsisters in their past, for they would find none of the Winged Goddess in Vytal Noctura that day.

Once the vessel had landed in the hanger, Vytal strode forward with a sister and brother flanking her as part of welcoming the visitor to their home. "[member="Darth Maliphant"]," Vytal announced, "I am Nightmother Noctura. Welcome to Vureshakkairn Castle." For the moment, she would wait to offer pleasantries before first ensuring the man would not fly into a murderous rampage from the start. Unlikely as that may be, nothing was impossible for one of the Sith. Why, she'd even seen a gentle Sith once. They were a very diverse people -- though the gentler ones tended not to last as long.

 

[Darth Empyrean]

The cane clicked with anticipation as she approached - and Maliphant sized her up accordingly. She carried herself odd, perhaps fear? Not so direct perhaps, though she was certainly wary of his arrival. No doubt Sith before had upset the balance of the Mandragora and Dathomiri Witches before.

A shame, truly - they carried a large amount of knowledge. Maliphant learned much of it from Mother Talzin’s personal grimoire, though it didn’t hold every secret he hoped; and not practicing Magic such as this, he didn’t know the details so careful as a With Elder. He smiled to Noctura, offered her a hand he doubts she would take, and spoke -

“It's a beautiful Castle, Nightmother. I thank you for letting me visit your grounds.”, he said with a glance around. After a second, he motioned her forward to lead them onwards and began to walk - though his speed was hobbled, slow. Even if she walked slow, she would have to follow the pace he set.

“I apologize for the short notice on my visit - I simply didn’t have a choice. As you can see -”, he said with a misstep that forced the cane to slam down to catch him, “-I’m not doing so well. I came to ask what knowledge the Nighstsisters and Mandragora have on the Nether…”

He paused, bringing a hand up to rub on a leaf. It seemed to fail under his touch, die slowly, and then fall free of the rest of the tree. Maliphant held it for a moment before looking back to her -

“More specifically, what it can do to a physical body, and how to fix what I have done.”

[member="Vytal Noctura"]

 

[Vytal Noctura]

The Nightmother's eyelids fell for just a second after she beheld the offered hand. They opened slowly as the Witch had taken council within herself regarding the circumstances. She stepped forward to take the male's hand with a strong grip -- but made no effort to crush or injure the Lord. When first she came among these Offworlders -- this Confederation -- Vytal still had doubted on males holding power of any kind. It was not the way of the Nightsisters, and their ways had served them for countless generations. However, it was obvious and apparent howling into the night would do her no favors. Adapting to the Offworlders in order to draw close to those of power and prestige would bestow greater means and opportunity than being obstinate. Just the same, Vytal would still not dream of changing home -- Dathomir -- from its social and political designs. Such ways were not those of the Mandragora, however. All listeners and speakers of spirits were equal in opportunity, and welcome to study the many mysteries of existence within their means.

Even Sith Lords. Provided they came intending to share, and not merely to take what they could lay their hands (or mind) upon.

If this surprising act held unintended consequences -- effects that the Lord would demonstrate in short order with a leaf -- and if he did not seek or was unable to avoid such contact, perhaps the Lord would find yet another surprise in store. Vytal would not draw back as though stricken, or cry out and have him arrested for assault. Neither would the Nightmother hold his hand longer than was necessary in order to welcome him to their humble abode.

A nod accepted the man's acknowledgement of their hospitality. "It is rare someone of such renown as yourself would visit us. I hope during your visit you may find value in continued dialogue long into the future." Vytal turned to lead the way from the rare metallic surround and back out into the wilds. Sisters and Brothers of their ilk were better suited for more naturalistic accommodations with starships and starbases merely, unavoidable necessities at times.

[member="Darth Maliphant"]'s slight stumble caused the pale woman's brow to draw a hair lower over her eyes.

As he broached the matter of the Nether, they halted their progress across the grassy plain. The Realm of Spirits was ever a matter of interest to the Sith, as was the power -- magick -- that came from it. To say it cast a shadow over her thoughts would be a fair assessment, but Vytal would hear him out. She turned to behold the man and the leaf, and how quickly the life had been sapped from it by his touch.

"The Nether has laws of its own. When we visit that world, we bear witness to it using senses born of this world, and we enter into its presence before our time. When I say anything may have been done by setting foot there, do not take it as an attempt to evade your question." She drew in a deep breath and folded her hands together as she turned to face the man directly. "Can you tell me how this came to be? Knowing the circumstances may aid us in treating the condition."

 

[Darth Empyrean]

For a moment, the memories rushed back - Of Hoth, the blistering cold, the Force Storm Maliphant had created to show Cedric Grayson what he was capable of. Pride drove him to do it, and it inadvertently brought him into the confines of the Nether - truly, it was his goal all along. To seek the Throne of Judgement, yet he hadn’t expected it so soon; Nor had he expected to never make to the throne in question.

He cringed at the thought of telling the woman exactly what he had done, scarring the face of a planet in a vain attempt at ascension to Godhood, so instead he simply shook his head -

“A fight… Ended poorly. Suffice to say, I was -”, he paused as he thought of the words to explain, “- transported into it.”

He hoped it would suffice her curiosity, to allow her to offer him some semblance of advice without knowing too much. She wasn’t a Sith, and she wasn’t his apprentice - she didn’t need to know exactly what he was capable of. Nether forbid she thought he was capable of an act as insulting as that within the confines of her castle - which, truth be told, he wasn’t. Weakness had crept heavy into his bones, and Maliphant could sense he only had a numbered amount of fights left in him before this illness would take him.

“It took something from me -”, he said with a motion to his body, “- I’ve survived innumerable wounds, Nightmother, yet the Nether’s wounds are internal and they…”

He coughed for a second, interrupting his talking, but he didn’t double over or break eye contact.

“They won’t heal. I can sense them bleeding, though not only physically… The Force, the Magick as your people call it - it feels like it bleeds from me as an ichor.”

[member="Vytal Noctura"]

 

[Vytal Noctura]

Obviously a great deal more to the story, but Vytal wasn't about to pry into the man's personal life. If he felt something was pertinent for his survival, she expected him to volunteer it. Little judgment was held against him even if Maliphant had sought out the Nether as part of this 'fight.' After all, a younger version of herself had done something similar and just as foolish. It was not without its consequences; though hers weren't quite as evident.

"Ichor?" Her pale hands unfolded and soon she lifted the right between them. A green flame engulfed it, untouched by any breeze that crept across the surface of the planet. "Let us test this. It will not hurt." Little point in killing someone that came to you seeking help. The Confederacy was not hostile toward the Empire. With that said, the mystical energy floated across the intervening space until it touched the Sith Lord; there it spread across his body and cast a green aura about him. Slowly faint embers seemed to float away from tiny waves of 'flame' that engulfed him.

"I do not know what you know of the Nether," Vytal began to explain, "but it would appear that you are bleeding the very energy that sustains you in this world. It seems the Other World has left a wound within you, or perhaps..." The Nightmother regarded the Sith Lord from top to bottom for a moment. "Please accompany me to the Castle." A slight nod to the two accompanying them signaled for a small hovercraft to ferry them the rest of the way. "Left untreated this condition will kill you, as you must already know."

A four-seat car swept into position with a hum of its engines. They were not common as you might find on a city-planet, but at times necessary. Given the frail condition of their guest forcing him to walk the rest of the way seemed cruel -- and might shorten his time ever further. The two attendants with Vytal would be ready if [member="Darth Maliphant"] needed assistance; but at most they would do without his asking for it was opening the door for him to find a seat in the vehicle. Once the two were in, the vehicle would depart leaving the attendants to manage on their own.

 

[Darth Empyrean]

“Or perhaps….”, she had said, never finishing the thought. Maliphant clenched his teeth at it, almost annoyed his curiosity wasn’t immediately satisfied; though it loosened just as quick. It took too much energy to play into his emotions now, and if he wanted to maintain control of this - he would need to remain calm.

The ship came down, and those around motioned to help the Sith Lord; but his pride was too strong. Despite the pain, the agony he felt constantly, he wouldn’t allow them to assist him onto the ship - No, he would walk straight, correctly and unperturbed before sitting, as though he were never sick. It taxed him to do so, but at least for the moment he could feel better about himself and his predicament.

He laid the iron cane over his lap as the ship began to take off, and his gaze fell on the Nightmother. It was the first time he really chose to see her, and so he took in her form - bone white skin stretched over a lithe body, yet she wore a dress that seemed to hold to her more than most witches he had seen in the past. Revealed far more than most witches as well.

His eyes quickly came back, a small ache forming in his side - the seeming cost of his pride. With a tinge of desperation, he tried to draw his attention away from it, speaking up to her -

“Do you always dress like that?”, he said as he cringed, only hoping it didn’t come off as though he didn’t enjoy it.

“It seems more akin to a Sith’s garb than the witches I have met, Nightmother - take no offense.”

[member="Vytal Noctura"]

 

[Vytal Noctura]

Vytal sat calmly as the vehicle swept over the planet. It would fly over the plains to the main bridge so they could approach the main hall; this would require the least movement on foot for the Sith Lord to enter the confines of their chambers. Her eyes were turned forward toward their destination as the man examined her; if she noticed, the pale woman showed no sign or interest in such an act. Her thoughts were on the possibility before them. One fraught with danger and yet quite possible given the man had been exposed to the Nether perhaps before he was ready.

[member="Darth Maliphant"] then called to her with question, and the Nightmother's gaze turned toward him once more. "No." The corners of her lips lifted just so. "I have several attires for the occasion. And no offense is taken. I adapted to the Offworlder ways to blend in; but these outer trappings do not define who or what we are. Those are qualities that can only be changed or taken from us if we permit it."

"Your condition," she began, but then paused a second. "When the energy of this world is no longer tethered to it there are three common outcomes: it attaches itself to something else in this world, rejoins the waters of life, or emerges into the Realm of Spirits -- the Nether. This other world is, as I said, unlike our own. Some do not favor their new existence. Perhaps they have always been malcontent with their lots, or the transition imparted a sense of impatience or even jealousy. Such spirits would like nothing more than to cross the Veil back to the material, and would do anything in that effort. Unfortunately, these are often the spirits we often cannot afford to humor in that pursuit. Much as it is not our time to linger in their world, it is not theirs to haunt ours."

The hovercraft slowed as it entered the open courtyard upon the Castle pillar cut off from the rest of the planet. After she stepped out of the craft, she gestured for the Sith Lord to accompany her through the towering doors framed by an archway that stretched out toward the heavens. "We must seek to break the connection that lingers within you still, and within these halls we will find that which afflicts you."

"What will you do, once your life is again your own?" Vytal asked without attempting to bridge the subjects of conversation. They had a short distance to walk yet into the hall to the first door that would whisk them away to see to the man's needs. Perhaps he would humor her with a personal matter much as she had him not long ago.

 

[Darth Empyrean]

The Sith listened, and didn’t interrupt. It was her voice that distracted him from his pain - and so long as she spoke, he’d listen. Pain was a common emotion among the Sith, one that many grew to take power in - Maliphant had done much the same, but his power was waning, and invigorating the pain he felt didn’t seem like a smart decision in the home of so many Witches. There was a second of consideration as they pulled into the door frames, and Maliphant stood with Vytal - letting her leave the ship before him.

His cane clicked heavier with each step, only to be interrupted by her question -

“What does a Sith ever do?”, he said with a semi-scoff.

“A master would tell me conquest, to vye for power - so that is what I will do. It is my nature, as it is anyone’s nature to do as they were born to do.”, Maliphant said with a cast of his hand.

“Get married, have children, and live a happy ever after?”, he said in nigh a mocking tone. It was only then he sighed, and stopped himself.

“I apologize, Nightmother, it’s not an easy question to answer.”

For a moment he went quiet, letting her walk before him as he considered her question, and the pain that grew in his side once more. A vexing thing, it pulsed rhythmically with his heart, and yet it only bled within - never healing, always pushing down his strength and mood.

“I’ll do what I must.”, he said after a while of quiet deliberation, just as they entered the room she had hoped for.


[member="Vytal Noctura"]

 

[Vytal Noctura]

The Nightmother's eyes slid to the side to regard the man as he spoke. The Sith Lord had much to say, and yet said little. She understood his words, and his feelings of this matter. It was not a question one simply answered, or had a simple answer for. What would anyone do once their plight was ended? Nevertheless, most had an ambition or goal to strive for, a family to return to, vengeance to claim, and so on. What had Vytal expected of him? Who was to say, but she heard what [member="Darth Maliphant"] was willing to admit aloud at present. It was enough.

After a walk through the corridor, the pair came upon a set of double doors. Vytal waved a hand before them and the doors parted to reveal a long hall of dark stone and bright braziers of flame that illuminated the chamber. The ritual hall existed in another tower, but they would not be tasked with crossing the entire distance. No rough edges demonstrating the magic at play existed save for the change in color and temperature of the stonework itself. As they made their way down the hall toward the raised platform at the other end, Witches and Warlocks emerged from the shadows of the balcony to either side. The Ritual Hall was rarely without Sisters or Brothers exploring some manner of magick, or soliciting some spirit's aid or wisdom.

Vytal extended a hand out to one side, and in it was placed a dish of crimson liquid. She slowly pivoted her limb around to offer it in turn to the Sith Lord. "This will bolster your physical strength for the trials to come." He had entered into the presence of the Mandragora; there were no shortages in potions and concoctions to aid or hinder mind, body, or soul. For Maliphant, they would ensure he lived long enough to explore his plight and perhaps -- spirits willing -- absolve him of it. The longer they'd walked, the more onerous it had become; Vytal had not been blind to his weakening state.

Slowly she ascended the two steps up to the altar that rested there. The pale woman drifted around one side to stand behind the stoneworked slab and regarded the Sith Lord across from her. "There is only ever one question when it comes to matters of the soul, or life and death. Do you have something worth living for? It matters not whether society approves of it, or if your peers believe it proper; so long as there is an anchor in your soul to this world you will weather this storm."

A man stepped forth from the side to set a wooden bowl atop the altar between the two parties. A black bladed knife was then laid across the rim of the bowl.

"Are you prepared?"

 

[Darth Empyrean]

It wasn’t as though he didn’t trust them - he had come here, offered them his weakness, and requested they fix it; yet when she offered him the potion in his hand to ‘bolster his strength’ he almost took it as an insult. He may be sick, he may even be dying - but he did not require ‘strength’. The sin of pride burns most brightly in the heart of a Sith, and Maliphant knew pride well…

“I don’t need it.”, he said simply, waving her off.

The truth was, he didn’t know if he’d need it; but the thought of lowering himself further seemed a far worse fate. His cane kept pace though, and drew his thoughts back to her as she raised herself upon the altar -

She asked if he had something to live for - and he considered it. Did he? Once upon a time, The Slave fell in love with [member="Irajah Ven"], yet now he was hardly what he was. ‘The Slave’ was nothing but a progenitor, a thought and time from a boy he hardly was any longer. What was it he lived for now? Power? Conquest?

Perhaps it was simply out of spite.

For the moment, spite felt right.

He glanced to the bowl and knife with a slow, tedious exhale -

“I’m ready.”

[member="Vytal Noctura"]

 

[Vytal Noctura]

A faint turn to the Nightmother's lips passed under shadow as a woman and man stepped forth on either side of the pale woman. Was [member="Darth Maliphant"] truly ready? He had not seemed so moments ago when he refused the healing elixir. No matter, it was his choice to make; his life to be won or lost. It was not their place to make this decision for him.

The robed man stepped forward and poured crystal clear water over the black blade and into the bowl set atop the altar. Next, the robed woman held a slab of freshly cut flesh upon both outstretched hands. A moment later the offering floated over the bowl, and Vytal's glowing, green eyes examined it thoroughly. "Well prepared, Sister. Our visitor will benefit greatly from your toil." In truth, the water of life was incredibly easy to make provided the one crafting it took care in the preparation. That the Nightsisters always called upon an ancient beast as the source of the flesh was as much tradition as necessity -- and Vytal had found suitable replacement enough to relegate it solely to tradition and proof of one's own capabilities.

Vytal's empty hand and the one that had plucked the blade from the rim of the bowl fluidly passed from one side to the other and back over the offering. Green mists sprung from the ether and consumed the flesh; as it did so a radiant energy fell into the pristine water below. From the depths sprang new light that filled the wide chalice.

Once the flesh was gone, Vytal's eyes lifted back to the face of the determined Sith Lord that had come to them. "Drink. This is the Water of Life. It has brought countless Sisters and Brothers back from death's clutches."

 

[Darth Empyrean]

It seemed he had been brought to the edge of his spite already - forced to drink their potion. He wasn’t sure what he expected, but the questions she had asked put him in a bad mindset - it's been a long time since anyway bothered prying into his personal life. Most were satisfied with the arms reach he left them, how evasive he was, controlling of any situation - he had left more than a few Sith lords without words, and yet he had lost much of this nature. The pain that ached throughout his body was a whip sharper than any tongue, and it dragged his silvery charisma down with it.

It made him cringe at how he’d been these last weeks. All sacrificed for the chance at power - and a gamble he lost, considering his current situation. His fingers wrapped around the glass, taking it from the Nightmother as he glanced to the others within the room. It didn’t seem likely that they’d have brought so many in just to poison him, but there was a nagging paranoia that told him they were going to end him in his weakness.

‘He’d exposed himself’, it said.

‘This is poison. It’ll weaken you, and then all of them will pounce like vultures.’

His lip quivered in anger, but not for the assumption his insecurity was correct - but that he thought it at all. Was this how far he’d fallen, to believe anyone who saw weakness in him was bound to kill him? A long lost layover from his days enslaved, it seemed…

Besides, he was confident that even poisoned he could kill everyone in the room. He hoped.

After a moment for him to process, the molten golden eyes Sith were known for looked to Vytal with a sharpness they had failed to produce his entire time there. He drank the potion wordlessly; and set the chalice down with a gentle clink against the stone. He could feel it churn in his stomach - it didn’t feel right.

Had he been poisoned?

His legs began to grow weak as it worked its own magic, and while he could feel it return some of the strength to his body - there was a second feeling to it. A hand lifelessly reached out to grasp for his cane, but it wasn’t there - set aside for the sake of his pride. Maliphants jaw clenched as he fell to a knee and his vision blurred - only for him to lurch forward and vomit what was left of the potion in his stomach.

It had healed his body, but was temporary. Gave him weeks of life, but the potion wasn’t accepted - rejected by a body hell bent on death. He lurched again and the puddle grew, and his heart began to surge -

Was this what it was like to die?

The room began to vibrate, shake as Maliphant cried out in pain - the wound had been aggrevated. His eyes burned a bright yellow, and scream grew - windows shattered, and the very force turned into a toxic miasma that threatened to choke the very breath from every Witch in the room; but it took from Maliphant much and the same. Light faded, and the room slowly grew darker as the pressure of the Force reverberated from Maliphant like the dying creature he was -

And then it ceased.

Maliphant’s eyes faded to a dull, clouded grey over yellow ponds and he fell to the side; narrowly missing his sickness. He had passed out, but he was alive - for now. Whatever the Nightmother had hoped for, hadn’t worked.

It didn’t seem Maliphant knew that yet, though.

[member="Vytal Noctura"]

 

[Vytal Noctura]

Vytal waited patiently for the man to drink. She could imagine the thoughts that plagued him in that moment. They were, as he'd come to expect, utterly foolish. Not unreasonable. Obviously [member="Darth Maliphant"] was weakened, and there were undoubtedly people in the galaxy that would enjoy taking advantage of that state and his reliance on the good graces of his hosts in this moment. Nevertheless, if it had been the Mandragora's intent to harm him they could have done so already with far greater ease. A lack of understanding often resulted in people not appreciating the danger presented by a Witch or Warlock being in their very presence. It was ultimately for the best they did not understand it either; else they might turn their worries to fear, and from that into violence.

The Nightmother's brow pinched together when the Sith Lord fell to a knee and then vomited the Water of Life up. A scowl creased her dark lips at the sight. Not only had it failed to resolve the underlying issue, but it had been expelled. Something worked against them then. It was more than a mere imbalanced caused by exposure to the endless void.

Green flame engulfed Vytal's pale forearms as Maliphant or something within sought to kill them all. Whoever thought to kill the Mandragora within their own Dark Ritual Hall would be sorely disappointed. Ichor swept out from behind the altar to form a circle about the platform and the Sith Lord to contain the worst of the effect. Fortunately, they did not find out just how powerful his abilities were as the man seemed to pass out in relatively short order.

"Bring him to the altar," the Dathomiri woman's voice snapped through the Hall. The two that had flanked her moved to fulfill Vytal's command. Meanwhile, the Nightmother's eyes scanned the chamber. "Sisters. Brothers. Join me in unmasking the hook that has dug deep into this man's body and spirit." The black blade was lifted high overhead as the green mists began to spiral around its length. "We will excise this foul magick and restore this one to the natural path."

It was one of their greatest strengths from Vytal's perspective over that of Force Users -- the communal sharing of power that came far more naturally to their kind. After all, they communed and gathered power from spirits everyday; how much harder than was it to share that power among one another? To bring many spirits together toward a single aim. This was not like many Jedi or Sith all focusing on pushing or pulling an object together with many invisible hands. They would become one, and together reshape the world. Or, in this case, peel back the veil to see the true depth and nature of Maliphant's plight.

The blade was lowered to rest atop the open palm of Vytal's freehand. Her eyes fell to the face of the Sith Lord soon laid atop the altar with the bowl used earlier having been removed. Harmonious, low chanting reverberated through the Hall while the Nightmother's eyes were fixed upon them man. Were it some manner of spirit having taken hold of him, she would excise it immediately before it would do more harm.

However, after several moments the frown returned to her dark lips. What she beheld was not that of a monster preying upon the man, but a wound through which the man's soul bled or passed through. A part of him might still linger in the Nether, which prevented closing this fissure by something as straight forward as the Water of Life. It also went without saying a spiritual dagger would do little, unless they were prepared to carve out a chunk of the man's soul. Not an act one did lightly or with any expectation they would heal from it. A last resort.

After examining the wound for a solid minute, Vytal's voice called out once more, "Prepare a spiritual anchor." They could at least buy more time to reverse the process. Prevent the man's essence from slipping through the crack much as an avalanche picked up speed once it began. This would be no simple matter to correct. Fortunately, the Sith Lord had come to them when he had.

 

[Darth Empyrean]

Some time later…

Maliphant awoke in a blur, a headache carelessly working itself deeper into his psyche as he came to. The room was small, and he was stripped of his belongings - albeit a new set of clothes that seemed more fitting for a smuggler than a Sith Lord. He looked them over in a mild annoyance, and stood - nearly falting as he did so, only to be caught by an outreached hand.

They had poisoned him… He knew it was a poor idea.

He grit his teeth with annoyance, and knew that somewhere in the castle was his belongings - but as he outstretched his hand to the door to strike out against it; he noticed a new liability. The Force moved, but it did little to press the door open - a dangerous notion as Maliphant looked to his hand for some fault.

Had he lost the ability to control the Force? Was this apart of the poison?

Slowly, as he considered his options - he found himself calming. He felt better, albeit still dying - and they hadn’t killed him when they had the chance. Why would they have given him new clothes if their intent was to murder him? It simply didn’t add up, but it didn’t stop the sith lord from considering it a viable option - even deeply, as his anxiety drew forth a deeper breath in his new found mortality.

He growled quietly, and slowly pressed the door open to face the first Witch nearby. She gave him an odd look, one of equal fear and surprise -

“Nightmother Vytal… Can you bring her to me?”, he said in as calm a tone as he could manage.

He wouldn’t let them know his force powers seem to have left him - that was a mystery for another day. For now, he just needed to find out what occurred...

[member="Vytal Noctura"]

 

[Vytal Noctura]

Near the height of the central tower of the Castle, the Nightmother sat comfortably in a chair with a book cradled in her left hand. Steam slowly wafted from the heated tea in an ivory cup with no handle. There was little breeze even so far above the ground. A pleasant and calm day on the turbulent world of the Twi'lek. Suitable for studying some interesting concepts about the Nether laid down by others long ago. For as personally touched by the realm beyond Vytal felt herself, she knew less than she desired. How it operated. What effects it could have on outsiders.

After the events in the Dark Ritual Hall, Vytal had not gone about her business with vary a thought for their guest. The Sisters and Brothers of the Mandragora had done quite a bit of work to ensure the man didn't slip silently in the void. Now there was the matter of restoring him to his glory -- or at least to what he had been before his 'encounter' with the maelstrom of the Nether. Whether that was glory was left to Maliphant to gauge about himself.

One of the Fates -- a Nightsister that had left Dathomir with Vytal some time ago -- emerged and gently touched her Sister's shoulder. "He asks for you."

Her eyes slid to the side as her fingers gently folded the book shut. "How is he?"

"Still a man." A hint of mirth colored the pale woman's voice.

A shadow of a smile passed over her lips at the observation. Slowly the Nightmother rose to her feet. She extended the book to her Sister for safe keeping. "Then we should not keep him waiting."


A few minutes later a knock sounded at Maliphant's door if it had been closed, else Vytal would stop at the threshold and make sure the man hadn't a sudden change of heart about 'guests. While the Castle could have easily deposited it straight away at his doorstep from her own, she opted to arrived from the hallway gate. It would be far less jarring. No matter what airs the man put on, she knew he would be reeling from what occurred. There was no shame in that.' "[member="Darth Maliphant"], we are most pleased to see you awoken once more. There is greater time than we first feared. Enough, I think, to keep your soul from passing into the Next World."

 

[Darth Empyrean]

His thoughts had travelled on various subjects in his time waiting, but always came back to the Force. He had hoped to ascend, take himself to the level of a God - men worshiped him in hushed circles across the galaxy, and he had come so dangerously close. He remembered it… Chaos; to witness the black city around the Throne of Judgement - such a vivid memory, but how long ago had it been? Years seemed to pass in his journey through the dunes of the Nether, and there was only song he could resist the loss of his identity…

His training through Darth Sidious had helped. Sidious knew the Nether, or at least how to retain his identity - and while his spirit was held captive by a Jedi somewhere deeper in the nether, he could always reference the piece he left behind in the Telos Holocron.

Maliphant could feel it in his hands, though it wasn’t there. It gave him comfort to imagine it, to have all his teachers in his hand at once -

“Darth Maliphant, we are most pleased to see you awoken once more. There is greater time than we first feared. Enough , I think, to keep your soul from passing into the Next World.”

“So you have.”, he offered quietly.

“And have you come closer to understanding my condition?”

[member="Vytal Noctura"]

 

[Vytal Noctura]

Vytal regarded the man for a moment before she slowly moved toward the window in the room. "I have come to understand many things. For instance," the Nightmother gazed out across the towers, walls, and tree tops that stretched out toward the horizon, "you did not happen across the Nether for a few moments only to return shortly thereafter." A pause punctuated the statement, curious if he would choose now to volunteer more information.

"Fortunately, it is not irreversible," the pale woman turned to look back at [member="Darth Maliphant"], "but it will test your endurance." And his patience, but she wouldn't strap him down and force him to endure the process if death was preferable. She sensed a certain reserved posture toward her when she entered the room; it would be the Sith Lord's choice what the next course of action would be.

 

[Darth Empyrean]

There was no information offered. He heard her words, remembered the Nether - but did not deem it necessary to explain himself or his lies to the Nightmother. He simply sat a little straighter, watched her a bit more carefully - to see if she intended to act on his lie, to pressure him on his dishonesty. When she didn’t, he relaxed more than he was - but not much.

“My endurance.”, he repeated, almost as though mulling over the words would help him understand it.

“It will take time?”, he said with a cock of his brow, looking up to her.

“It seems I’ve found a room…”, he exhaled in a vague form of laughter, albeit trying. He patted the bed, and glanced around -

“Speaking of which, where are my things?”

[member="Vytal Noctura"]

 

[Vytal Noctura]

The Nightmother did not sigh, however she did stare at [member="Darth Maliphant"] without blinking as the man replied. Once he finished and no further information was forthcoming, only then did she blink and step away from the window. "You do not have a physical or spiritual wound that is slowly draining you of life and power," she explained as she moved to occupy the center of the room. "If it were a wound, we could treat it using one, perhaps two rituals or potions. I would tell you not to scratch at the wound or expose yourself to the Undying Realm or risk tearing it open once more."

Without being gestured or spoken to, a man quietly drifted into the room with a tray of water and fruit for the Sith Lord. He set it down upon an end table beside the bed, and would depart as quickly as he'd arrived.

"You do not need to tell me what happened for me to know forbidden magick or prolonged exposure was involved. You are suffering from your life essence being drawn back to the Nether. Untreated, your physical body withers and inevitably dies. It can be treated, but it will not be easy. Or pleasant. It will require several rituals over a perscribed period of time -- neither too often nor too far apart. If you accept, you will live. If you refuse," Vytal didn't finish the sentence. The consequences of excessive paranoia or spite had already been laid out -- death. Perhaps, if he was lucky (or unlucky depending on your point of view), the man could find another that might throw his physical form back into the Nether to fish him out again in the hope it would 'recharge' his spiritual self to withstand material exposure for a time again. It would not be pleasant, and it would interfere with whatever ambitions the man had. The Mandragora, however, would not chain him to a bed and force feed him as a petulant child.

"Shall I have your things brought here?" Whether Maliphant chose to then walk out the door would be his choice. Vytal hoped he would stay. It was what the Mandragora sought to do, after all -- heal and educate people of spiritual matters.