One month. The Dark Crusade’s latest conquest has cost one month of time and much more in terms of sacrifice. Sith, Krath, and Obelisk warriors from across the Dark Brotherhood have fallen in combat and withdrawn from the dusty plains of Begeren. Rivals from within the Brotherhood and external One Sith forces have reduced the once proud field of ninety elite warriors to just four. Guided by the Force, impatience, or a mix of both, the remaining combatants have been drawn to the final stages of their quest.

The palace’s main gates were barred and sealed; ancient Sith magics seemed to hold them in place, and even lightsabers couldn’t open them. However, you noticed another entrance, far above this one, accessible via a long bridge into the cliffside. Not long after, you were there, standing before a massive stone bridge built to reach one of the palisades of the gleaming palace. In the distance, you can tell One Sith activity has greatly increased on the palace; soldiers and cloaked figures can now be seen on the palace superstructure along terraces, moving hurriedly in unknown tasks. All activity seems to spiral up towards a massive, single tower. Even from here, before reaching the palace, the dark side can be felt snaking down from the top of spire. Whatever the One Sith are up to here on Begeren, this is the center of it. Your eyes take in the fine craftsmanship of the bridge and its impressive scale, but your heart sinks at the sight of multiple sections that have fallen into ruin. Built of stone and mortar, the massive structure serves as the only passage across a deep and treacherous chasm. Expansive gaps, rubble, and debris litter the length of the bridge. Skeletons, long stripped of their flesh, sit in their final resting place, giving the impression that a great battle had once occurred to protect the ancient palace resting just beyond its reach.

You watch with little enjoyment as lightning strikes, the horizon holding torrential rains and gusting winds as an immense storm spreads across it, rolling menacingly towards the palace. The bridge before you groans as the strong winds force it to sway slightly, pieces of rubble falling into the dark chasm below. The first drops of rain patter off of your robes as you step onto the bridge and begin to move towards the conclusion of your Begeren journey. Far in the distance, you notice the One Sith soldiers guarding the door slip inside the structure momentarily; whether it was your presence, or the impending storm, you are briefly unsure. Moments later, a lightning strike behind you sends a large chunk of bridge flying into the abyss below. Instantly, you realize this bridge is doomed – whatever storm is overtaking Begeren, the bridge is sure to be destroyed… and you with it, if you don’t get to the palace.

Too far to turn back now, you begin running with a determined purpose across the increasingly slippery surface. The wind whips around you, nearly knocking you off balance, and you pull your garments tighter around you as you momentarily feel the cold of the storm permeating you, the dark side itself seeming to wash over you as rain pours down. You briefly wonder if those guards you saw might re-emerge, and if so, if they might complicate matters. Before you can dwell on the matter, though, you feel a twitch in the Force and realize it is more than a chill. Your hand drops to your lightsaber, and a moment later, you see an adversary mere meters away, his or her figure illuminated by a nearby lightning strike. You know that whomever this is, he or she will only try to slow you down and reach the palace entrance alone.

Raindrops buffeted Timeros’ slender figure, battering his head with each new gale. The storm was blinding and deafening, lightning blanketing the sky with radiance. Thunderclaps followed in rapid succession, explosions of sound compressing into a drumroll that reverberated through his bones. Only the wind kept him awake, forcing a numb lucidity into his marrow with every frigid blast. For a moment, the Arconae felt as though he were drowning, blackness engulfing his awareness like the rainstorm’s surging waters.

No.

Somehow, the Adept fought his way back to consciousness, marshalling the pulverized remains of his wits into a familiar pattern, chaining his body to his will and forcing clarity to return. The pounding sleet retreated from his thoughts, leaving his mind crisp and clear, though the tempest’s all-consuming fury left him with little on which to focus his newfound cognizance .

Yet even in the lightning-punctuated gloom there was no way the Entar would have failed to recognize Halcyon Rokir Taldrya. The man stood only meters away, swaying slightly as he, too, fought to retain his composure against the omnipotent forces coursing around the palace. The Prophet’s emerald features, emblematic throughout the Brotherhood, were blurred by the rain washing off of him in waves. Yet it was undeniably the man himself. A fellow Champion – and Timeros’ former superior.

A traitor to Arcona.

Back then, civility had stayed their hands, an unspoken accord that war between them would not serve their Clans. That accord was gone now, left in tatters by war and the passage of time. There was no civility on the battlefield. Particularly when that battlefield was about to collapse.

Halcyon drew his lightsaber, an emerald flash reflecting through a stream of raindrops as his saber flared into existence. It unfurled with a low hum, casting the Taldryanite in an otherworldly halo as he stepped backwards towards the palace without turning from his Arconan foe.

The Adept followed cautiously, one of his lightsabers erupting into flame, its amethyst tip tilting back and forth as he scrutinized the Taldrya’s stance for weakness. There was none; the Prophet’s blade seemed to trail an invisible border, demarcating the limits of his willingness to simply retreat for the palace entrance. Cross this line, it promised, and you will die.

The words were empty, facing a soul bereft of peace. The galaxy had no place for lines. Timeros breathed in deeply and pushed off against the rain-slick cobbles, surging directly into reach of his enemy’s blade.

Halcyon’s stance shifted abruptly, angling to his side and discarding his feigned retreat across the bridge. His saber transitioned from lilting gentility to sudden ferocity, leaping up to end the Entar.

The Adept dropped to the ground with sinuous grace, ducking impossibly low, the gout of flame sweeping implausibly close to his head as he turned sprint into slide. He glided past his enemy then spun up, saber an amethyst whirl angling for Halcyon’s back.

A lightsaber blinked into existence, its flash and snap unremarked amidst the thunderstorm’s violence. Its intercession saved the Taldrya, deflecting the Entar’s spiraling lash.

Puzzled, the Arconae spun around, just in time to see Halcyon’s second lightsaber, hovering serenely in defiance of the passion all around it, held fast by the Prophet’s invisible grip. He did not get a chance to ruminate, however, as his former superior turned with deceptive speed, lightsabers scything in from either side.

Timeros veered away, launching himself into the thunderstorm and letting the sabers pass underneath. Immediately, he felt himself seized by the winds, their strength buffeting his slender form, flinging him like a ragdoll. He spun maladroitly through the air, managing to seize the bridge’s balustrade with one hand, dark side gushing through his veins as the tempest sought to tear him away. Halcyon turned in puzzlement, but it subsided quickly, and twin lightsabers fell upon the Arconae.

The Adept, however, was no longer there. The winds reversed course as quickly as they had grasped him, flinging him up. He scissored between the Prophet’s lightsabers, and the weapons succeeded only in obliterating the banister.

Timeros landed on the bridge’s other balustrade, feet finding purchase just long enough for him to topple into a forward pivot, amethyst blade springing at the Taldrya’s heart.

Halcyon’s flying saber intersected the blow with precognitive grace, catching the blade and turning it aside inches from his chest. Wasting no time, the goateed pilot drew deeply of the dark side, turning the Entar’s own momentum against him and overbalancing his adversary. His floating saber flashed down in an emerald blur.

Timeros, however, was gone, moving with inhuman litheness, the dark side raging in his veins with fury to match the storm’s. He darted aside in defiance of inertia, crashing sideways onto the stony surface and then pushing off with his free hand, spinning to his feet once again.

And suddenly, the Entar was no longer fighting, but bolting towards the palace ahead.

Somewhere behind him, he could sense Halcyon’s confusion as the older man likewise broke into a sprint, falling rapidly behind his more limber adversary. The Adept paid the Taldrya no heed. The storm was too violent, too deliberate, to be of this world. It was a created thing, lashed to the will of the One Sith within the tower. Combat within it was too dangerous. Much better to leave and let it consume Halcy-

The world turned white.

Lightning arced down with unprecedented ferocity, helixing across the bridge. The Force broke into a shout and Timeros skidded to a halt just as the bridge ahead of him collapsed, lightning strikes throwing up chips of rock. The next instant, a good ten meters of the stone structure broke apart, component rocks carried away into the sky like so many pebbles in a tidal wave.

Filled with grim resolve, Timeros turned around to face his pursuer. With his route to the palace gone, the combatants would have no choice but to finish their battle here.

Moments later, Halcyon’s saber split the air.

Halcyon’s eyes never lifted from the man across from him. He reached out and grabbed ahold of the scything blade. Timeros’ weight had shifted almost imperceptibly when the lightsaber had appeared suddenly, but didn’t relax after the hilt had been caught. The blade of almost-white was deactivated, placed once more in the small of Rokir’s back.

“Leave.”

The word was not a suggestion, but an order. Halcyon had made this statement to each person who had served as a roadblock. None had followed this order and none had been left standing after he had passed. Timeros remained still, unblinking, his unnaturally-blue eyes boring into Rokir. There would be no verbal response forthcoming from the Arconan, but it was conveyed through the Force instead.

Halcyon felt the power flowing over and through him. It was almost tangible, a living thing that forced its way into his psyche and began trying to break down his mental barriers. Timeros was no mystery to Rokir, and neither was the power currently trying to consume him. The Arconan had always used fear, in all its form, as his calling card. He had held back previously, but now it had rolled in at full strength Decades of serving both the military and the Brotherhood had left deep impressions within his mind, and although he had come to terms with most if it, much of those memories now threatened to come back and haunt him. Halcyon could feel his teeth clench as he fought to push the memories away, intensified as they were by the Force.

Digging into the depths of himself Halcyon pushed against the power, fortifying his mind. It crashed against his renewed defenses, cracking it, but failed to break it completely. The attack left as quickly as it had come, giving him time to compose himself. It had lasted all of a second, perhaps two. It wasn’t the cold and damp clothing that made him shiver as he looked once more at the emotionless mask that Timeros called a face. The Arconan had tried to break him, and had nearly succeeded in his attempt, but Halcyon was once more in control of all his faculties.

Not able to crush him mentally, Timeros turned to the physical. He moved between blinks, stationary at one time, then suddenly standing before Halcyon, a second amethyst blade appearing to compliment the first. Rokir’s body moved with a will of its own, twisting away from the scissoring blades at the last moment in an almost inhuman fashion. What would have been a killing blow became only another scar to add to his body, as the two blades raked across Halcyon’s abdomen.

With gritted teeth Halcyon used his momentum to roll backwards before coming back to his feet. Timeros was on him again, the two blades of amethyst searching for blood. He blocked the first with his own lightsaber, throwing a telekinetic blow to throw the Arconan off-stride. Timeros regained his composure quickly, moving lithely across the deluged bridge as he single-mindedly looked to take his former superior apart.

Halcyon quickly gave ground, throwing all he had learned into staying alive. Amethyst bit away at him, his emerald blade barely able to contain the fury. He was a man of war. Give him an army to lead and he would find a way to succeed, but this was a contest of fighters. Timeros was a killer; an assassin with no remorse. He was built for this moment, his entire life forging him into a weapon of singular purpose.

In desperation, Halcyon gathered all the loose debris that surrounded them, creating a small tornado of razor-sharp rock that ate away at both men equally. It had the temporary effect of separating the two as well. Halcyon, finally getting the room he required, gave a final push, and sent the whirlwind of rock straight at the Arconan. Timeros met the onslaught without flinching, using his prodigious skill to fight through the attack without coming to great harm.

Halcyon could feel the dozens of injuries, blood trickling slowly through many of them. His breathing came in ragged gasps as he held onto his emerald blade with a shaking hand. He’d hoped to use the brief respite to compose himself, but the storm had other ideas. The lightning had become an active participant in the proceedings, joining the drops of rain to fall down all around them.

It was the first opportunity that Rokir had to notice the changes in the storm. There was a familiarity to it. Had this been Brotherhood space, he would have assumed a Grand Master had a hand in the weather, but here, on this world, the invisible hand would be much deadlier. Timeros didn’t seem bothered by their surroundings as he weaved through the lightning strikes to descend upon the green-haired man. Halcyon allowed the Force to guide him, ignoring the protests of his body as he tried to move around the attack. The Force was with him, his blade pushing one of Timeros’ away as his forearm deflected the second attack. The Silver Sash hidden below his bracer was able to fend off the lightsaber, saving his arm in the process.

Timeros was undeterred, already moving to strike again as Halcyon felt all the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. An attack from another source was imminent, and he had no room to maneuver. A strike of lightning descended on him, and in desperation he allowed it. The bolt bathed him in deadly energy, and he deflected what he could straight into Timeros, who had no time to dodge a point-blank attack of that magnitude. The Arconan flailed backwards, stumbling to the ground as he tried to get his bearings. Exhausted, Halcyon slumped to the floor as well, his clothing billowing smoke as much of the attack still fell on him. Struggling to keep conscious, Halcyon felt the bridge under him begin to rock violently, along with the rest of the palace.

A flash of light. The crackle of stone. The tang of burning skin and hair. The splash of rain against his robes. The coppery taste of blood.

Timeros opened his eyes, finding himself collapsed upon the bridge, sabers clutched in a viselike grip. Lightning streamed from the Entar’s skin, dancing all around him like ribbons of light. He grunted, trying to right himself, but his muscles were sluggish and weak, and all his efforts gained him was a further slump against the ground.

Across the bridge, similarly prone against the structure’s decaying balustrade, Halcyon likewise struggled to regain his footing. The Prophet looked even worse than his fellow Elder felt, bleeding profusely and flesh afire with a glowing current. However, as the Taldrya’s awareness sharpened, his wounds began to close, rivulets of blood slowing to a trickle then stopping entirely.

Timeros followed suit, calling upon the dark side to heal his injuries. Yet his soul was a withered thing, weighed down by ravage and torment, fit only to destroy. His recovery was strong but slow, and the charge around his body dissipated with agonizing languor.

The Arconae moved with impassive haste, one arm sweeping up from the ground and releasing his lightsaber. The Adept mentally seized his weapon as it left his fingers, awkward throw turning deadly as he directed the saber towards Halcyon with the force of his will alone.

Undaunted, the Taldrya thrust out his own hand, Silver Sash unfurling from underneath his ruined bracer. The spiraling loops caught the lightsaber in an argent twirl and Rokir lashed his arm sharply to the side, hurling the weapon into the storm. It vanished in a trail of amethyst, telekinetic wings clipped by the Prophet’s overpowering might.

Halcyon thrust forth his hand, unwavering despite his injuries. Timeros’ mind alit with danger and he responded instinctively, armoring himself in contempt and weaving his hatred for the Taldrya into a gleaming barrier. The wall of telekinetic force slammed into him moments later, raindrops turned to bullets in its wake. The translucent corona cracked, then shattered, but the wave’s strength was spent, the remainder devoured within the storm’s intensity.

Gritting his teeth beneath the assault, Timeros unslung his blaster, lining up the fallen Prophet.

Halcyon, however, was too experienced to be surprised at his foe’s survival. Starbursts played across his mind before his foe pulled the trigger. Rather than defend, the Taldrya focused his mind upon the lightning that raged around the pair. Then, he drew it forth from within, unleashing a frenetic burst of radiance that arced directly for the Arconae’s heart.

Timeros uncoiled without thought, aborting his shot and throwing himself skyward with supernatural strength, carried forward by the storm as a conflagration of lightning passed underneath his body. He landed with sinuous grace, whipped up his hand, and fired.

Halcyon’s saber leapt up, transcendent foresight amplifying his movements as he batted the crimson bolt aside. Yet the sudden attack unbalanced him and before the Taldrya could recover, the Entar’s saber scythed at his neck.

A rumble of breaking stone was all the warning granted the men as the bridge lurched violently, throwing them off their feet. Timeros’ swing went high and to the side, sizzling over the Prophet’s head and cutting away loose green strands of hair as the Arconan himself was hurled against the shifting ground. Somehow, he managed to avoid stumbling over the rapidly collapsing balustrade, some combination of innate poise and Force-wrought fortune letting him keep his feet. Halcyon, too, was thrown, managing to right himself as an entire bridge segment toppled, the pillars supporting it snapping like breaking bones.

The Elders stepped across the disintegrating structure like wounded Krayt Dragons, veterans’ instincts powering through exhaustion in their flight from the collapsing cobbles. A saber ripped for Halcyon’s gut from the side and he blocked it almost without noticing. The Prophet retorted furiously, all thoughts of restraint forgotten. A rock whipped past his face before being hammered into oblivion, the resultant spray aimed expertly at the Taldrya’s Arconan foe.

Timeros stepped between heartbeats, twisting through the stone in a staccato blur, then flipped back as an emerald lightsaber raked for his chest. He landed several meters away, lifted by winds and Force alike as he leveled his blaster. Bolts strobed across the emptiness, reflected through the rain like a scattering crystal.

The Prophet raised a hand and the world followed suit, dislodged rocks jumping up in a makeshift barrier. Fire crashed into his impromptu wall, obliterating it in seconds, but the Taldrya was already moving forward. A stray shot caught him in the chest and the dark side rose like a void, consuming the seething light and releasing it as gently rippling radiance.

A sudden flare of the dark side was all the warning the men got as tempest turned to apocalypse, a sudden updraft liberating the bridge from its remaining moorings. Both men stumbled, fighting to keep their feet against the surging winds, only managing to remain standing on their crumbling platform by its sheer upward impulse.

Halcyon struck first, advancing across the structure’s crumbling remains, saber weaving through the air like an emerald serpent. The Arconae responded with precognitive adroitness, flipping up and letting the other man’s saber pass underneath.

The bridge halted, lilting gently in the air as its momentum ran out not far from the palace top. For a moment, the world was perfect stillness, the storm seemingly forgotten.

The next instant, Timeros came crashing down, feet across his enemy’s shoulders. Halcyon twisted, but he was already too late. The Adept surged away, the force of his jump hurling Halcyon from the platform, a flailing emerald figure rapidly disappearing into the depths.

The Entar crashed through a palace window moments later, glass shattered by a preceding typhoon of blaster fire. Darkened hallways greeted him, tempestuous sounds receding as deflector shields activated to shutter the opening.

The Arconae rose with a grunt of effort then limped away, accompanied only by stillness and silence.

Get up. Get up.

Halcyon played the mantra in his head, willing his body to move. The world around him was falling to pieces and would take him along with it if he didn't move. Slowly rising to his feet, he could feel every inch of his body screaming at him, from the burns forming on his back to the cuts and contusions that criss-crossed his body. Managing to stand as straight as he could, Halcyon was almost brought down again as an explosion rocked the palace tower.

Stone and granite rained down from where the top of the tower once was. In its place was a swirling maelstrom of blood-red energy surrounding a lone figure. Halcyon tried to find out who the figure was, but he could feel the bridge under him nearing the end. He began moving back towards the way he first came, but immediately stopped as Timeros stood at the entrance of the bridge. The Arconan stood motionless, his lightsabers dangling at his waist. His face was a blackened mess from the lightning strike, one eye completely closed and the other staring back at Halcyon with an emotionless gaze.

Halcyon’s time ran out before he could go any further. With one final groan the entire bridge finally gave out, collapsing from all the strain. Instinct saved Rokir as he threw the Force into his legs, propelling himself into the air moments before the ground under him disappeared. He flew into the air, his body angled away from the chasm and towards the main gates of the palace. Gusting winds grabbed hold of the falling man, buffeting him in mid-air and throwing him off course. Halcyon fought to control his fall, throwing the Force ahead of him to lessen the impact. It was enough to survive, but the initial impact tore his left shoulder out of its socket as he skidded across the ground.

Rokir had managed to roll onto his back, staring up into the deadly skies. His entire body had become the embodiment of pain. He could feel nothing distinct, with all of his injuries coalescing into one. He fought to keep his eyes open, focusing on where the bridge used to be. If he allowed his eyes to clothes for more than a second he did not think he would be able to open them again.

His vigilance paid off as he saw Timeros suddenly leapt off the ledge where the bridge had once been attached. He saw a glint of silver in each of his hands before they unleashed red fire down on him. With a cry of anguish Halcyon forced his body into action. He had lost his emerald blade sometime during his fall, but he could still feel his second hilt at the small of his back. Calling it to hand with the Force he unleashed the white light of his blade and managed to bat away the raining blaster fire. The attack was intense, but unfocused, allowing Halcyon to come away relatively unscathed before the onslaught ceased. Timeros threw his now empty blasters away, grasping his lightsabers once more and igniting the amethyst blades as he utilized the Forced to land with much more grace than Rokir did.

The Arconan wasted no time, unleashing himself on the battered Taldrya. There was only so much Halcyon could do as he desperately fought to stay ahead of the other man. Although his face was still set in an emotionless mask, Halycon could feel the roiling anger that boiled under it. Timeros had touched on something primal, and was using it to fuel himself. Halcyon knew he had only moments before he made a misstep that would end it all for him.

The dark side filled the air of Begeren. The world had teemed with power before, but now it was almost tangible in its potency. Halcyon knew he would pay a price for it later, but he had no other options as he opened himself up completely to the Force. It was like touching a live wire, his body suddenly bursting with unimaginable energies. He let loose with another telekinetic attack, this one suffused with newfound energy. It sent the Arconan reeling as Halcyon now became the aggressor, throwing himself at Timeros with renewed vigor.

Their battle had taken them near the barred entrance to the palace. The gates seemed to glow in warning, but the combatants ignored it as their lightsabers continue to clash together. Halcyon ducked under an incoming blow, pivoting to counter as Timeros’ blade bit into the gate. The reaction was sudden as the power protecting the gate lashed out, knocking them both back like ragdolls.

For a time Halcyon knew only pain. Hey lay there, broken, but alive. He had been tethered, however tenuously, to the power coming from the palace and it was that connection that had allowed him to throw up some form of protection before the blow came. Timeros was a metre away, lying face down and unmoving. Halcyon watched for a time, regaining his own strength before seeing Timeros suddenly begin to stir and attempt to push himself up.

Halcyon’s fingers felt the bryar pistol at his side. He grasped hold of the familiar weapon and passed it to his right hand. Lying on his side he aimed the weapon at the other man, his finger held down on the trigger as a slow whine began to build within the weapon. Timeros had turned his head, one eye glaring back with open contempt. Halcyon released his finger and emerald energy burst out of the muzzle, slamming into the face of its target. Timeros’ head nearly exploded as it was thrown back, the body thumping to the floor lifelessly.

One more roadblock had been removed, but Halcyon felt nothing but weariness as he looked up at where the top of the tower once stood. The figure at the top now turned and looked down at him, words appearing inside his head, Enter, Sith.