As I held the glove looking at it, inspecting it with my eyes and through the Force I felt something, something long forgotten. The sky shifted, crackled with lightning, and rumbled with thunder. The color shifted from a light evening rain to a thunderous afternoon storm. The landscape changed to terrible jagged peaks in the distance, barren earth as far as the eye could see, and fires where battles had been fought. I watched not from my own eyes, but from the eyes of another. His red saber slashed downwards at a blue lightsaber wielding warrior. Other men and women wielding red lightsabers were arrayed around this man and a battle was reaching its climax as Jedi and Sith clashed in times so long ago they had been forgotten by all but the most well learned historian.
Black hair fell around his eyes and Jedi were slain by the dozens that day, the Sith claiming victory after a long, brutal battle. As the battle progressed the man whose eye’s I shared fought in several single duels against Jedi of varying degrees of skill. As he became weary from exerting himself through the Force and physically fighting these Jedi warriors, he became more and more vulnerable. One Jedi, lunged at him, seeking to impale him in the chest, and the man blocked the blade with his bare hand, drawing the energy into himself and unleashing it in a storm of lightning, beheading the young Jedi warrior with his own lightsaber in a single fluid motion.
The hand was turned to be inspected by the eyes, and I could see it was charred black and burnt from contacting the saber. Painfully the man turned it into a fist and continued the battle, ultimately surviving and being taken back to the fortress the Sith had claimed for their own.
Days passed quickly as the Sith Lord recovered on his own, with no assistance from Bacta, but he recovered from what should have been an amputation without medical assistance, a testament to his strength in the Force. Thunder rolled through the fortress and lightning struck from the sky and erupted from his hands as he created a simple trinket, twisting it and bending it to his will until he was satisfied. The mighty Sith lord donned the trinket around his neck and waited.
Time passed by quickly as the vision shifted to show me his many battles wearing the trinket, using it to empower himself, deflecting blaster bolts and lightsabers with his bare hands with ease as he fought. And then I heard his name. “Lord Kaan, the Dark Lord of the Sith.” The name was familiar from my history lessons, the last leader of the Brotherhood of Darkness, the last of the ancient Sith Lords.
The battles continued and the Dark Lord eventually hid the trinket in a jewelry box before his death. I watched him place the trinket in the box and never return, shifting from his eyes to simply star at an ancient box sit on a shelf for what seemed like years before a young woman returned for it. Her blonde hair betrayed her true nature, yellow eyes flashed as she opened the box and took up the trinket, stealing it away.
She fled from there and confronted a bald Sith Lord, his face marked with dark symbols. They fought furiously against one another, lightsabers clashing with sparks cast from the two red blades of Plasma. The Dark Lord she battled did not register with my memories, but he was the greater of the two, by enough of a margin I knew that he would be victorious over this girl whose eyes I shared, watching her fight her master. Then in a shocking turn of events she proved victorious, using the Dark Side to dismember her master and cast out his invading spirit as it separated from his own body and attempted to take over her physical form, but she proved the stronger of the two.
Centuries passed before my eyes, as the woman grew old and was eventually destroyed by her apprentice, and then so on, and so on, through the centuries every wearer of the trinket was slain or left the small trinket in a box that I watched age before me as they left it be. One Sith Lord never brought himself to actually open the box his master had left him, because of fear, mistrust, or perhaps over confidence in his own abilities, I could not tell which. It seemed as though an eterntity had passed before a being actually took up the trinket yet again. A middle aged Muun opened the small chest and plucked the small golden trinket, bare of any markings or jewels. He knew what it was instantly and he donned it around his neck. “Finally our search is over my young apprentice. The Amulet of Lord Kaan is now ours.”
“And we shall use it to spread fear through the galaxy, my Master.”
“In due time Darth Sidious. In due time.”
The Muun aged as time progressed again, the trinket worn around his neck often, and he drew upon its power when he needed. The Sith were a mystery during this time and remained hidden. He often used this to his advantage, not carrying his lightsaber as he walked through crowds and was well known as a senior member of the banking clan. Hego Damask they called him, and his influence was great, both in the Force and in the galaxy. His influence spread to every corner of the Galaxy and in the end, it mattered little. He had been weak and let his guard down. He had stowed the small trinket away and it had not saved him from his apprentice who murdered him in his sleep.
Taken by the new Dark Lord of the Sith, events that shaped the foundations of the Galaxy as I knew it transpired, wars were fought, and shifts were made. Great and terrible things occurred all transpiring without anyone to stop them. The trinket itself was not the cause of these events, but it had witnessed them all, it was present when they occurred. It was in the possession of the Dark Lord when he became the leader of the Galaxy and corrupted it to his will, but this would not be its true master.
Years passed and a Zabrak Sith brought his master a pair of black gloves. “These were his my lord.” The man said as he laid them before the elderly sith, still bearing the hands of their former wearer.
“Excellent work Darth Maul. You have done well with your final task.” The words were raspy and dark, laden with dark intentions. The Zabrak realized this and his head snapped up, eyes like fire, but they were too late. The snap hiss of a lightsaber resounded through the hidden meeting location, and a thud followed its hum. The eyes rolled back and droids carried the body away along with the head as the elderly Sith Lord took the black gauntlets. I knew what they were. Crushgaunts worn by a Mandalorian warrior that must have caused trouble for the Sith Lord’s plans, because now the Mandalorian was dead and his gauntlets were in the possession of a Sith Lord.
The gloves were taken by the Sith and kept secret for some time until he eventually took them to Korriban. I recognized the planet instantly when I saw it through the eyes of this being of pure evil. In the Valley of the Dark Lords I watched as he had droids fit the right glove around the trinket and imbue the item with his fury and his hatred within an ancient ritual circle, adorned in blue fires. The circle pulsed blue with dark energies as the Sith Lord crafted the gloves for their true master.
Time passed, but I could tell by the way it happened it was not long. A broken man, maimed, and burnt was brought to a surgical chamber, the old Sith looking on with glee, empowering his apprentice with the Force to help keep the man alive. Droids flocked over the man, stabilizing him, tending his wounds as best they could.
Then I witnessed the creation of a monster as his screams echoed through the chamber as the droids placed cybernetic arms and legs on the stumps that had been left in the place of his real ones. A black suit enveloped the being, and the gloves were pulled over his robotic hands, fitted to them perfectly. A mask was lowered over the man’s head and the robotic sound of a rebreather filled the room, each breath drawn through a medical rebreather and exhaled with a mechanical rasp.
“Lord Vader, can you hear me?” The elderly Sith asked quietly.
“Yes my master.” The cyborg said. The rest was clouded in pain and misery. All I could see was that the monster was in terrible pain and that he had no reason left to go on beyond obedience to a Dark Lord.
Years passed and hundreds were slain or destroyed by one of the most infamous Sith Lords the Galaxy had ever known. Jedi and Soldier a like fought the cybernetic Sith Lord and all fell before him, the will of his master enforced on every planet he was sent to. Time passed and whole graveyards will filled by the Sith Lord. Jedi Masters dueled the Dark man-machine in every environment the Cyborg slashed down his enemies. Blasters and lightsabers alike were turned aside by his will, his lightsaber, and the glove adorning his right hand. There were none that could oppose him.
The next scene I was shown by my vision, I stood upon the deck of a ship, sleek black with sharp angled architecture. A great window looked out into space where a battle was taking place and the old Sith Lord, so corrupted by his own evil, hard become a hideous monster, and I knew who he was. He was Emperor Palpatine, the First and Only Galactic Emperor of the Galactic Empire.
A young man stood before the cyborg, whose eyes I watched from. His dirty blonde hair cut short and clean. The man stood in all black, and the Emperor had his lightsaber on his throne. The lightsaber was pulled from the throne and ignited in a single fluid motion, snapping full and swinging down towards the Emperor. Another hiss was heard and the green blade of the young Jedi was stopped by the red blade of the Sith. They clashed and dueled as the laughs of the Emperor echoed throughout the throne room. Eventually the young Jedi took the upper hand and kicked the cyborg, causing him to tumble down the steps with a grunt. “Good. Use your aggressive feelings boy. Let the Hate flow through you.” The Emperor said as the cyborg stood.
The metallic robotic voice erupted from the suit. “Obi-Wan has taught you well.”
The young Jedi spoke, “I will not fight you father.” But despite his wishes the duel continued and the two battled as the Emperor looked on, watching waiting for his moment. The sound of Lightsabers clashing, sparks falling, and the Emperor’s laughter filled the room as the two men fought, both seeking to corrupt each other, but in a fit of rage the young Jedi took the upper hand, battling the Sith Lord back, taking him by surprised, pressing against his defenses, and fighting him backwards onto a bridge. The onslaught continued, forcing the Sith to his knees, and then with a flash, the robotic hand was severed just beyond the black glove’s protection, sending the glove falling down a massive chasm.
Moments passed and in a titanic explosion the glove survived, protected by the ancient sith magics and the Mandalorian Iron it was made from, pulled into a wormhole created by the overload of and catastrophic failure of an enormous Hypermatter Annihilation Reactor. The next I saw a flash of white and blue and then debris dumped into an ocean. Months, possibly years later, a three eyed man took the glove, but he could not handle its power so he had it stowed away. A false prophet took the glove away, but was slain during his time, and then the glove passed to another man, until it passed into the possession of a Dark Lady of the Sith.
She would possess the glove for some time, but she never wore it. It was fear that kept her from using it. She had seen it used by its true master too many times to risk wearing it, haunted by memories of it. Decades passed and she never returned to where she had hidden the glove. Centuries passed again and a man opened the case she had placed the black glove in, taking it for his own. This man I knew not, but he was Sith, I knew that much.
The man claimed the gauntlet as his own, but eventually he discovered the truth about the glove, and learned about it. The Sith were not a welcome sight in the galaxy during this time and the man took it before his master, a crab armored beast of a man who ordered the glove destroyed and those that knew of it slain. Fear drove this man as well. Those that had seen its work when wielded by its true master were tentative to attempt to claim its power and abilities for themselves. The man fled, fearing for his life, locking the glove in a box and refusing to wear it again. He knew only that he needed a place to hide, but in his fear he believed the glove called to its true master, that it yearned to be left with his remains. And so he fled to Endor, believing he could find some long lost remnant of Lord Vader there and be free of the glove and the curse he had come to believe. That he could live and that his master would forgive him, if he could just return the glove to its rightful owner. For years he searched the forest moon of Endor for the bones and suit of Darth Vader, seeking, his sole purpose in life to place the glove back where he felt it belonged. He only began wearing it again when his lightsaber no longer had the power to ignite to defend himself.
When he wore it no insect bothered him, no animals came too close, but he did not notice, consumed by his obsessive need to return the glove to its master who was long gone, taken by the Force and consumed in a funeral pyre. Eventually he died, old, hungry and alone, clutching the glove as he drifted off to sleep on last time.
The vision changed to speak not of the past but of the current. It showed me fire and death, bones everywhere, and the skies churning with energy, all around me. Smoke choked the air and I looked outwards. I was in my own body, seeing from my own eyes once again. There was nothing living around me and I questioned my sanity when a voice boomed through the air. “There is a fine line between thirst for power and the protection of the things you love.” The voice was not my own, but I recognized it nonetheless.
“Darkness is a powerful ally on the field. It is quick to aid you in battle, but just as quick to turn on you.”
“Always remember what you are fighting for, and never let yourself fall into the pit, and you might walk the fine line, but one misstep and you will fall and only they can bring you back.” The voice said, smoke clearing to show me my family, smiling and waving to me.
The smoke returned, filling my sight, and everything went dark, and then my eyes opened. Everything was blurry but my eyes began adjusting to the light and I could see I was within a medical center, dressed in the standard medical gown, wearing the glove on my right hand with Chiasa sitting asleep next to me, her arms crossed on the edge of the bed and her head lying across them. Her breathing was steady and she was sound asleep. I thought to sneak out of the bed and put her in it, but then knew better. If it had been her in my place the first thing I would want to know was that she was alright. I sat up and placed my had on her shoulder’s, “My love, is everything alright?” I asked.
She started awake, snapping to full awareness quickly and then hugged me around my neck, kissing me as she withdrew, “I was so worried about you,” she said, relief echoing through the Force.
“I’m sorry, I found what we were looking for and it showed me a vision through the Force. I can’t control these things.” I said laughing lightly as I did.
“You were out for three days, Viyi’ee.” She said softly, “And you wouldn’t let go of that thing no matter what.” Pointing at the glove. I pulled the glove off and inspected my hand for a moment, nothing seemed out of place or too wrong, event he corruption I had witnessed in the Triclops or the Sith that had brought the gauntlet to Endor was not present, at least not yet. But then again it had withered the Triclops’ hand in mere days, turning it the color of burnt flesh, but my hand seemed fine, both visually and in the Force.
“Well, it was certainly worth the scare my love,” I told her, hugging Chiasa and rising from the medical bed. “Let’s put Endor behind us, perhaps move to an unknown system for a while.” I said, getting up and looking for fatigues to wear.
Within moments I was dressed and had ordered the captain to take the station out of the system. Our ship was secured to a docking ring and the station took a few moments to make the jump to hyperspace and then we were gone, without a trace.
Over the next few days I told Chiasa about what I witnessed, what it was I held, and why it was important. I had a path to walk now, I needed to know about that path if I was to manage it. I needed to know where Vader had failed and how to stave off that failure from my own destiny.
