The atmosphere on Mustafar is thick, burning with sulfur and volcanic ash. No sunlight is able to penetrate to the surface. Located at the end of a raging lava river lies a towering, complex black structure unlike any other. Designed and constructed by the Sith Lord Darth Vader during the reign of the Galactic Empire as a testament to his own might, the former Sith’s personal residence sits on the site of an ancient Sith cave and the planet of his greatest defeat. The unique structure consists of a large obsidian central spire flanked by taller tuning towers to help channel the dark side. Lava ebbs and flows through the building, providing power to various systems and ambient lighting throughout in a design synonymous with the dark side of the Force and the building’s creator.

With the castle’s location recently discovered from the darkest corners of former Imperial archives, agents of the Brotherhood have been dispatched to reclaim the Sith site and any relics of value. Thought forgotten in time for almost thirty years after the death of the Dark Lord and collapse of the Empire, the place where “Jedi go to die” still holds many secrets and surprises; from Sith and Jedi artifacts to Vader’s personal effects and access to the nexus of dark side power the castle is built upon.

Hidden in the depths of the castle lies Darth Vader’s meditation chamber, constructed in the ancient Sith cave where he created his first lightsaber and completed the transformation into the Dark Lord. Inside, a single catwalk extends from the black durasteel door to the center of the room, hot swirls of red and orange lava filling the floor of the chamber while an excess of steam adds a slight haze. Surrounded by four obsidian tuning pillars lies a raised platform, a single obsidian throne in the center. Like the rest of the castle, the entire chamber has been constructed to channel the dark side energy within.

It is here that you have found yourself, either seeking to attain the secrets within for your own gains or to ensure they shall never be found by another. However, it is rare that any seeker of forbidden knowledge would walk such a path alone. Pursuers and companions alike can often be found. More so, such disparity can cause conflicting points of view on what the best course of action shall be.

Whatever may happen, the empty throne stands resolute and watches to see what shall come of those called by the dark presence within.

I don't like it, Darth Renatus, better known as Thane, mused silently.

The Justicar stood in the shadow of the large obsidian spire that represented the castle of Darth Vader. The soft glow of the nearby lava flows reflected upon the dark material adorning him and his simplistic armour panels. Not only that, his black-gold eyes seemed to glow with the very same light captured within them.

He didn't stand alone, however. Whereas Thane stood apart with his silvery pale skin and dark hair swept to the side, one Malfearak Asvraal had accompanied him. An archeologist in service to the Shadow Academy itself—which operated behind the Aurora Collegium of Sciences—the Kessurian had found his way onto the mission as a companion. While of similar stature with a lighter frame, Malfearak carried the ravages of time in a way that the older Justicar did not. Somehow, the long silvery stands of his hair looked brighter in the glow of Mustufar and his ash-pink skin took on a more crimson hue.

Thane wouldn't be wrong in calling Mustufar 'morbidly scenic'. Not that he'd say it aloud.

"Now, tell me, are we ascending the spire or is there some spelunking in order?" Malfearak broke the silence first with his query. He was excited to get started. After all, they had come to find any artifacts that still remained after no doubt a multitude of foolhardy ventures that preceded them. Sure, the location had been recently rediscovered, but that didn't mean that none had come before. They just hadn't been noisy about it.

The Justicar's chest rose visibly before he shot a long, sustained breath from his nose. His nostrils flared and the Firrerreo proceeded to crack his knuckles as he thought over the topic at hand. "Castle first," he stated flatly, despite the dancing lilt of his accent. Less chance of collapse, came his afterthought.

"Very good," the Kessurian continued. "Onward, then! For whatever awaits us."

Thane allowed himself a smirk. "Or whomever."

That made Malfearak pause mid-step. "Hm...yes, true. Part of the fun, yes?"

The Justicar merely grunted an affirmation and punctuated it with a shrug.

What followed was a rather uneventful ruck march. Neither man spoke, one out of nature and the other out of focus—not that it was clear which was which—so only the shifting stones beneath their feet hung in the air. They made sure to navigate in a half-circle, curving away from the main lava flow and prioritizing safety over haste. Smart. Alas, there was no guarantee that such good fortune would last. In fact, it was all but assured that something would go awry. It always went awry.

Luck was the enemy of Thane...and of Malfearak for that matter, as he had the misfortune of the Justicar's accompaniment.

The pair's path took them through an expanse pockmarked by lava tubes. Malfearak made the observation that the flow had once come through here before the water level, so to speak, had dropped. The archeologist basked in the history around them, opening himself up as only an Arcanist could. He channeled the depths of the Living Force permeating around them. Through them. Then he opened his senses.

They weren't alone.

He felt a pulse nearby, like ripples in a pond that shuddered within the Living Force. Life made itself known and Malfearak was connected to it. "Something comes," he hissed in warning.

Thane raised a brow, waiting for his companion to point out a direction before turning towards the nearest opening. From the shadows of the lava tubes came a long forked tail, whipping back and forth viciously. The creature's curved horns were the second thing the Justicar noticed. The third was its size. He had seen rancors before but this? This was something else entirely though of similar stature. Malfearak, on the other hand, knew a roggwart when he saw one.

And he knew they were aggressive.

A roar signaled the creature's intent as its hulking, thick skinned form hurtled forward. Powerful legs allowed it to leap towards Thane like a whirlwind of claws, fangs, and tails that was pure nightmare fuel. Neither of the planet's newcomers were shaken, steeling their minds to the task at hand. It was in that moment that Thane plunged into the depths of his dark power.

Like a sinking ship in a storm, the Justicar surrendered to the icy waters at the depth of his being. Goosebumps worked across his flesh as his nerves came alight with fire and ice. Thane found himself dropping to his knees, lowering his profile and lashing out with one hand. That hand extended into the infinite expanse surrounding him. Thane's energy engulfed a nearby boulder and beckoned it towards him. As if alive, the large rock sprung to his defense and placed itself between the Firrerreo and the living embodiment of impending death.

"Do not kill it," Malfearak shouted over the din of the conflict.

"Sure," Thane muttered. Nothing hard about that.

The archeologist's lightsaber sprung to life in his hand as a brilliant amethyst blade. With the creature's ambush, neither man had time to strategize so Malfearak did what he was good at: improvisation! With the beast fully grown, taming it was a herculean task, but if they could lock it down that might give him enough time to form a connection with it. At the very least, they could send the roggwart away and not disrupt the ecosystem around them.

Speaking of the roggwart, having found its ambush unsuccessful, the creature flipped onto the ground with an unceremonious impact and scrambled back to its feet. Bone-white claws dug into the ashen landscape as the roggwart roared once more at the pair. Saliva practically rained from its almost lipless maw. Thane's eyes narrowed as he appraised it, not particularly pleased by its natural, permanent grin. He flicked his fingers forward and sent what remained of his protective shield hurtling towards the creature.

Naturally, the roggwart responded with its powerful tail swatting the cracked boulder out of the air, turning it to rubble.

Thane, of course, sighed.

"I'll distract it," Malfearak offered. The Kessurian had taken to the high ground—a game ender if ever there was one—and had also allowed the Force to suffuse throughout his limbs. The energy amplified his capabilities to inhuman levels. "Though, perhaps not for long," he added.

I will pin it down, Thane concluded, having grasped his companion's intent. His black-gold eyes flit from side to side as he scanned the area for anything he could use. There it was! A column to the north he could bring down with enough concentration. "There!" he called out with a nod towards his discovery. Malfearak risked a quick glance over his shoulder and nodded, glad that Thane seemed of like mind.

Putting action to words, Malfearak swung his arm forward and released his grasp upon his lightsaber, but not his control over it. It arced through the air like a swirling fan and bit against the creature's hide. The roggwart replied with an ear shattering roar that resembled a scream, curling away from the source of pain even as the glow faded from its flesh. With that, and the weapon returning to Malfearak's grasp, the archeologist concluded that the creature was effectively distracted.

How unfortunate for him.

Directing the Force into the muscles of his legs, Malfearak took off towards the column with great alacrity. He hoped it wouldn't take long as concern for fatigue already licked at the edges of his thoughts. If he paused, even for a moment...well, he didn't particularly want to think about what would happen.

The Justicar didn't take off after them, there wasn't a need to. Instead, he planted his feet and bent the Force to his will. Where others would channel their rage like a hammer and anvil, Thane brought an unbending resolve and the gaping void of his very being. He didn't just weird the dark side of the Force. He embodied it. The Force wasn't asked to heed his call...it was expected to comply. Demanded to.

And so it did.

Thane had no choice but to grit his teeth with the strain suddenly upon him. Even as his fingers curled as a physical embodiment of his desired action, his boots dug into the ground and dragged forward like he was being pulled in by the very weight of his target.

Malfearak felt a warning scream up his spine which caused him to roll to the side. It was a good thing he did, as the roggwart had no respect for personal space. Or, at least, what had been the Kessurian's personal space. Any time now, he thought as sweat dripped from his scalp and over the rounded nubs upon his brow. Quicker, even! Already, the roggwart was regaining its momentum and repositioning to claim its meal. Muscles undulated under greyish flesh, a precursor to its monstrous leap. Its dark shape soared into the air and became a silhouette between the cloudy sky and Malfearak...only to be swatted to the ground just as quickly.

Thane grunted with relief as he brought his arms down and the column with them. It was accompanied by the panicked cries of the creature as it found itself lying bleeding under the rubble. Gathering himself, Thane made to meet with Malfearak as the other began his part of the unspoken plan.

With the roggwart now stationary—more or less—the Kessurian took to his knees and closed his eyes. Trying to ignore the salty sting of sulfur and sweat, Malfearak focused on his sense of self. First, he let the walls of his consciousness slip away and pushed his awareness ever outward. He touched upon the shell of the roggwart's presence and engulfed it like a blanket. It was a surprisingly gentle act, unlike forcing his way through the cracks of someone's psyche. Instead, he calmed the creature and focused on forging a connection.

Malfearak's lips curled subtly as his focus deepened. There were so many instincts...and hunger. It was hard to push past but he tried. Just a little more...there!

He had done it.

The archeologist focused on assuaging the creature, willing the roggwart to enter a state of rest. "That wasn't so hard was it?" he inquired. "We shall be on our way, and you...will go on yours."

Malfearak paused for a moment to appraise the debris holding the roggwart in place. "Eventually," he admitted.

It was at that moment Thane reunited with the archeologist, sighing heavily as he looked upon his work. "Perhaps we shall find more intellectual challenges inside," the Justicar stated hopefully.

"Yes," Malfearak agreed. "Shall we?"

Thane nodded, making a vague gesture for the archeologist to proceed. "Next time, we park on the ominous landing pad," the Justicar said, almost allowing himself to laugh. "Less chance of wildlife."

Lightning crackled in the ash-laden skies above. The wind was picking up, lapping at Malfearak’s cloak with hunger. The pair made their way over the treacherous landscape of igneous rock, the Justicar of the Brotherhood slightly ahead, leading the way. The ascent to the base of Fortress Vader was a slow, arduous one. Both could have called upon the Force to hasten the pace but Malfearak suspected that he would need its full might to brave Darth Vader’s seat of power and unlock its secrets. After the encounter with the roggwart, he opted to preserve his strength and he suspected that his companion had reached a similar conclusion. That, or he was being polite.

The monolith that was Vader’s castle loomed overhead, a pointed, two-pronged spire that reached onto the darkening heavens. Its metal surface, as black as the night, appeared to draw the burning light of Mustafar onto itself, devouring it. Old reports which Malfearak had lifted from the Imperial archives in Clan Scholae Palatinae’s possession, few though they were, had little to offer on the subject. The most relevant information he had managed to dig up was a set of shipping manifests that listed building materials due for Mustafar at the estimated time of construction. The Sith Lord had gone to great lengths to keep such a project secret and until now, the purpose of such grand design had eluded Malfearak. He had suspected the answer would be revealed in the Force and now, standing beneath Fortress Vader, it was clear to him. The monolith had been designed to channel the dark side energies of Mustafar itself. It had to be. He could sense the darkness emanating from the structure. He could feel it crawling upon his skin, seeping through his pores into his very soul, and the closer he drew, the stronger this sensation grew. It was as breathtaking as it was terrifying. Malfearak could not yet confirm his suspicions, perhaps he wouldn’t for some time, but he had a feeling he was on the right track.

With a deep breath, pulling the acrid stench of molten rock into his lungs, he pushed the practical thoughts aside. To stand before such a marvel of Sith architecture was something to be savored. That alone made the trip out from Wild Space worth it. Nearly shaking with excitement, he looked to his companion who’s golden gaze appeared unmoved. It would have been disappointing if Malfearak didn’t suspect the man had seen many a wonder in his lifetime. He could have reached out to him through the Force in an attempt to sense his true emotions, to see if he was truly so detached, but Malfearak had long made it a rule not to pry into the privacy of his allies, not unless it was absolutely necessary.

“Truly inspiring,” he said, eyes returning to the spire.

“It is, indeed,” was all the response he received, delivered in a dry, disinterested voice.

And so they pushed on. A storm was brewing as they finally reached the gates of the fortress. Lightning grew more frequent overhead, red tendrils of electricity rippling across the orange, burning clouds. Thunder reverberated against the black walls before them and though he thought perhaps he was being a tad melodramatic, Malfearak could not help but feel it had a ring of fate to it. He closed his eyes and opened himself to the world around him, allowing its energies to flow into him, but the monolith obscured all outside energies. Indeed, many strings tugged at him from within the fortress, battling for his attention. A single, powerful presence stood out from the rest. A chill ran through his body, sending shivers down his spine. He half-expected that if he were to open his eyes, he would see frost dancing upon his breath. He recognized this focal point sitting beneath the Fortress, recalled a phenomenon he had personally witnessed in his travels. History texts called these vergences; a strong, naturally occurring concentration of Force energies localized around a nexus or locus.

It beckoned him.

“I sense it also,” noted the Justicar.

Malfearak couldn’t contain a chuckle of excitement as he opened his eyes. He spoke through a crooked grin, “My friend, I believe we’ve hit the motherlode.”

The two of them moved in unison. They stepped up to the gates and, working in tandem through the Force, lifted their hands and applied pressure, one pulling on the right door, the other on the left. The metal groaned before their combined power. Yellow sparks showered as the locking mechanism was ripped apart and the doors parted ways, half-sliding, half-crumbling on themselves. As the way forward opened, Malfearak felt ashamed for damaging the gate, realizing that the call of the vergence was clouding his judgment. As an archaeologist, he believed that these vestiges of the past should be preserved to the best of their capacity. He would do better to keep a clear head moving forward.

Still, there was no point in lingering on the mistake. He would simply have to do better. Out of respect for hierarchy, he allowed Darth Renatus to enter first, following only after a few steps. The hall that greeted them was bathed in darkness, the orange glow of Mustafar’s atmosphere seeping from behind them only to be swallowed by the shadows. A few floor lights led the way forward, lining both sides of the corridor, lighting it in a deep red. A single overhead light, white in color, lit a doorway at the far end. The walls rose in angular fashion, bowing away from them, the design reminiscent of classical Imperial architecture but built of black metals. They moved forward, their boots clanking against the floor. There was a low, omnipresent hum, as if the structure itself was vibrating with the Force.

They reached the far end. This time the door parted before them without resistance, giving way to a circular antechamber. The remnants of imperial tapestries hung in tatters on the walls. There were ancient marks of violence on the walls, scorch marks from blasters and long, scrapping scars left by bladed weapons. Malfearak ran his fingers over a deeper wound in the metal, a mark left by a lightsaber. He breathed slowly through his nostrils then back out through his lips, and closed his eyes once more as he sought out history in the Force. The dark side was strong here, too strong. What happened here, he asked, but the Force would not answer. He asked again, opening himself to the past.

That’s when he heard it in the Force, a deep inhalation, artificial, mechanical, followed by a drawn out exhalation. Once more, he felt a cold presence. His hand trembled as his throat closed up and suddenly, he couldn’t breathe.

The sound of a door opening shattered his concentration and Malfearak gasped as he staggered away from the wall. Eyes now opened, he found that Darth Renatus, unaware of his companion’s tricks with psychometry, moved through the chamber without pause, driven forward with surprising haste. He hurried after the Justicar, who continued moving with clear determination.

Malfearak warned him, “We should move carefully, this place does not suffer intruders.”

“Oh, but we come in peace,” Renatus deadpanned without slowing down, offering him a slight smirk.

“This place has been basking in the dark side for half a century,” explained Malfearak. “There is no telling what awaits us.”

“Afraid?”

“Cautious.”

They followed the halls, passing through rooms of various, indiscernible purposes. Much of the place had been ransacked, stripped of valuable wares. They passed through what had to be a training hall, with the remnants of training droids piled around the outer walls. The further they moved, the more oppressive the dark side became, a tangible weight of his shoulders. Even his companion seemed affected, moving with his shoulders slumped, which looked unnatural for such a stoic man. The signs of strain showed in the slightly downturned corners of his mouth. They eventually discovered an empty throne room, with a wide, angular window that looked out onto the fields of lava beyond the fortress. At its center, up a flight of stairs, sat an empty throne of a crude, boxy design, with a single holoprojector before it. It was a claustrophobic room, one clearly not meant to hold large audiences.

“A lovely view,” mused Renatus as he took in the sights.

Malfearak barely heard the Justicar. For his part, he was drawn to Vader’s throne. He moved slowly, almost sheepishly, reluctant to do so, and, yet, he couldn’t help himself. He placed a hand on its cold, obsidian surface and once more called upon the Force to reveal hints from the past. Once more he heard the mechanical breathing but this time, it grew constant, and the more he focused, the more he felt his presence. He closed his eyes, focusing all his energies into this singular link to the past.

“I serve only you, my master.” The deep voice, modulated and artificials, reverberated into the very depth of Malfearak’s being, slashing at his essence and causing him to pull his hand away from the throne as if he’d been burned.

The air around him grew cold, colder than before, to the point where he shivered. When he opened his eyes, he found himself staring into the red, reflective eyes of the Dark Lord of the Sith, who sat upon his throne, staring directly at him.

“An intruder,” said Darth Vader, satisfaction in his synthetic voice, “The Force is strong with you.”

The Sith Lord unfurled, pushing out his seat as Malfearak staggered backwards, feeling the full breadth of his malice wash over him. Standing taller than he or Renatus, an armored figure as black as his fortress, flowing cape like an eclipse, he seemed to encompass the entire chamber.

“Perhaps, you will join me,” the Sith mused. “First, you will suffer.”

A lightsaber appeared in Vader’s hand and a blade of crimson light hissed to life, slow and taunting as it extended to its full length. Malfearak fumbled for his own lightsaber and brought it to bear. Before he could do anything, the Dark Lord raised his hand, his fingers clutched. Like it did before in the antechamber, Malfearak’s throat closed up. His eyes went wide as he dropped his lightsaber and clawed at the empty air around him.

Darth Renatus appeared, unleashing a stream of lightning as he stepped between his choking companion and the Sith. Vader brought his lightsaber up with a single hand, moving almost lazily as he grounded the lightning without a hint of struggle. The Sith Lord released the archaeologist, clearly realizing that this new arrival was a greater threat. He honed in on the Justicar, closing the distance in three thumping steps, bringing his lightsaber down in a merciless arc. Renatus was forced to bring his own lightsaber up in time to deflect the attack. His dark blade slid across the red saber, its black core pulsing as he sidestepped and moved out of reach of Vader’s follow-up, but the Sith was relentless. He hammered at his new target with repeated one-handed strikes that put his immense strength on full display. Renatus fought in retreat, pushed backwards towards the window. Malfearak, still panting but recovered, pulled his fallen lightsaber to his grip and lunged at Vader with an overhead slash. Amethyst met crimson once, twice before the Sith backhanded him across the jaw, sending Malfearak rolling down the stairs.

It wasn’t much of an opening, but Darth Renatus capitalized on it. He threw both hands out, launching the Force at the Sith Lord, hitting him with an invisible battering ram that slammed him back against his throne. A new stream of lightning leapt from his fingers and this time Vader wasn’t able to react. The discharge of electricity lapped at the black armor and yet, the Sith Lord pushed up, unphased and unaffected. Renatus, eager to end this, cramped his fingers and brought his hands together as if he were crushing a ball. There was a crunch as the Force closed in around Vader like a vice grip. The entire chamber seemed to shake as he was forced to his knees.

“Good,” Vader mused, “You are strong with the dark side.”

Malfearak, in his prone position at the bottom of the stairs, watched in awe as the Sith Lord stood back up and pressed towards the Justicar. And yet, something felt off. Something wasn’t right. Renatus reached the conclusion before he did.

“This isn’t real,” announced the Justicar even as he struggled against the Force apparition. He hissed through gritted teeth as he continued to press the attack on Vader. “This. Isn’t. Real!”

Another crack of lightning echoed through the cavernous interior of Vader's castle. The flash rippled through the corridors at a speed beyond sight. It instantly turned the Justicar's features a deathly pale, though they were already bathed in the sanguine glow of Darth Vader's weapon.

Or, at least, the apparition of it.

Salty beads of sweat stung at Thane's eyes, sending him into a rapid set of blinks. Still, he managed to push back against the oppressive force arrayed against him. He only hoped Malfearak's brain was working as fast as his own. However, it would be folly to split his focus even a little while such a threat still existed.

Black-gold eyes flit from side to side, quickly scanning the throne room for something—anything—he could bend to his benefit. "Steel your mind," the Justicar barked, trying to reassure Malfearak.

To the other's credit, he wasn't a being so easily shaken. Well, aside from all the imminent and looming death that had just bombarded the archaeologist. That would shake anyone, so why blame him?

Admittedly, Renatus probably could. But he didn't...much.

The Kessurian busied himself with finding his footing once more. The cold stairs no longer pressed to his cheek as he found himself kneeling. One breath. Two. And...up! Malfearak stood with a groan and narrowed his eyes in thought. At the edge of his awareness, he knew that Darth Renatus had broken a nearby pillar free of its already shaky base. He felt it slam to the ground with a thud that even caused him to bounce. But it wouldn't do anything against an apparition. No, that was a being of the mind. A shared mass delusion.

Malfearak's head turned slightly, a subtle tilt, and his piercing gray-blue eyes stared into the roiling ashen clouds above. Lightning struck and his mouth parted with realization. "I did this," he muttered. Another loud grunt of effort in answer to the labored click-hiss of Vader's breathing apparatus brought the archaeologist's focus back to the battle of power playing out before him fruitlessly. "I did this!" the man managed to yell this time.

Neat, Thane thought in response. He paused and tongued his bottom lip before gathering his saliva and spitting towards the dusty stone at his feet. "Some elaboration is required."

Suddenly, as if a triggered recording, Malfearak began detailing the events at a rapid fire pace that left everyone surprised he wasn't tripping over his own words. "When we entered the castle, I opened myself to the Force. I felt the history here. Let it whisper its secrets to me. Only I touched on what shouldn't have been disturbed, what we dare not disturb. Clearly, I must've tripped some lingering resentment binding this shade to this place. Thus, it was born into being and now, well, now..." Malfearak gestured vaguely at Darth Vader's menacing silhouette.

Again, neat. The Justicar wasn't so much concerned with the specifics of the 'how' and 'why' of their current predicament. That could be picked apart later ad nauseam. No, what he concerned himself with as blood—a reward for his efforts—trickled down his nostril and stung his senses with its metallic tang was potential solutions.

But what if he already had the solution? What did Thane already know?

The Dark Side.

He knew the suffering therein, the hate and the pain. And the fear.

Fear was what was fueling this apparition of the machine-like man. Malfearak's fear and—though he was remiss to admit it—Thane's own initial misgivings. But fear? That was an enemy the Justicar knew all too well. An enemy he had slain time and time again.

"Impressive," Vader intoned, as if all-knowing. "Most impressive."

The lumbering juggernaut marched forward with echoing stomps. His armor, and the servos buried beneath, whined as Palpatine's pupil shifted its crimson blade into his left hand. That hand came crashing down toward Thane like a falling tree ready to crush whatever was so unfortunate to find itself trapped beneath it.

It was Thane. Thane was the unfortunate 'whatever'.

The Firrerreo had to drop to one knee to absorb the force of the strike against a high-held crossguard. Unfortunately, Vader followed it up with a bone rattling backhand that sent Thane stumbling down the stairs. If there was any convenience to be found, it was that the Justicar was heading that way anyway.

Malfearak dared to help steady his compatriot, though not quite bold enough to enter into the fray itself. That was okay, Thane didn't need him to. With heavy breaths, the Justicar gripped Malfearak's shoulder and ensured he had captured the Kessurian's gaze with his own. "Do not give into the fear. Confront it," he explained. "This darkness? It is not your home."

Swallowing visibly, Thane centered himself as well before turning away from the archaeologist. "Open yourself to the Living Force. Leave the darkness to me. It is mine."

The other man didn't argue. He didn't need to, nor was he dumb enough to think otherwise. Malfearak understood that Renatus was asking for trust. That was the very thing that had brought them to this place. It was what they had offered each other against the roggwart and it was required of them once again. Breathing in deeply through his nostrils, Malfearak closed his eyes and shut out the world or, at least, his awareness of it. Instead, he turned his focus to what was found In the rhythmic rise and fall of his breath. The light that permeated all things. It slipped through the cracks of our being, our world, and hung over all ever-present.

The Living Force.

It was a warm sensation and all-encompassing. Like a hug from an old friend. There, in that far reaching place, Malfearak sank and allowed all else to fade away. He was one with the arcane. With the galaxy.

Now, it was Thane's turn. On some level, he knew the other had done as he had advised. Smart man. However, what remained was—in some ways—a far more difficult task. It wasn't just a conscious decision to let fear fade away. He had to conquer his own instincts. Or, perhaps, what some might call a self-delusion. With a long sigh, Thane glanced at the crackling blade in his hand before dismissing it with a swipe of his thumb. Darth Vader stood as if perched atop the staircase, holding to the high ground.

Their positioning left the Justicar with little other recourse but to gaze up at the apparition. He craned his neck up before beginning his ascent. Each step was slow, but purposeful in that they carried their own small wars. With the first, Thane spoke to what he knew: an internal monologue of affirmations.

Life isn't precious because it is infinite. It is because it is a journey that ends.

Step.

When Life gives way to Death, another chapter begins.

Step.

What is born of the Light, lives forever in the Dark.

Step.

I do not fear. To fear is to deny what is known. I can only regret.

Now, the man recently titled Darth Renatus stood face to face with the long ago declared Darth Vader. The dark-clad man raised his blade in a two-handed clasp, as if to give salute, before bringing the blade across Renatus. His vision turned crimson and then...

Darkness.

Not even a single breath could be heard for a span that felt like eternity before the Justicar allowed himself to blink. His eyes quickly adjusted to the deem light and he glanced around. They were alone once more, save for the storm raging outside. "It is done," Thane called to Malfearak, signaling the archaeologist to return.

The Kessurian ceased his channeling of the Force and his whole body seemed to drop. He felt like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders, a fading fatigue that pushed back at the rejuvenating energy he had suffused himself in. It took a moment before Malfearak was truly 'there' once more and then the man came to stand alongside the Justicar. "So it would seem," Malfearak answered. "I can only offer my apologies. I just...hm...there's so much history here. So very much to discover. I couldn't help but try to connect myself to it. It was rash and I should have known better."

"Well," Thane offered with a shrug. "You certainly do now."

At that, Malfearak appraised the Justicar with a surprised look before giving way to a light laugh. "Yes, I suppose so."

The pair collected themselves in their own ways, Thane far more reserved and as impassive as always. They had to do a quick inventory and find anything that had been misplaced in the surprise scuffle before moving on. Let's do what we came for, Thane thought as his fingertips danced over each of his saber hilts clipped at his side.

"I will take the throne," he offered, leaving an unsaid directive for Malfearak to look elsewhere. It wasn't exactly veiled that Thane had made note that the 'fun' had started after the other had touched the throne.

The Kessurian nodded, running a quick mental lap of the training room, halls, and antechamber they had passed through for anything that had stood out. He sighed as nothing immediately sprung to mind and tried to busy himself with his Collegium scanner even as Thane poked and prodded the throne itself. The scanner hummed to life with a variety of graphics cascading over its oh-so-tiny screen. Quiet beeps began to ring out as Malfearak directed it to begin measuring the mass and density of the objects around them.

Having clearly become disinterested with his own investigation, Renatus made his way over to watch Malfearak like a gargoyle upon its perch. The Justicar made no sound, only standing with his arms folded over his chest as Malfearak entrenched himself in his research. If one were to look closely, however, they might've noticed that Thane was entertaining himself by flicking an eyebrow up whenever Malfearak's scanner pinged.

"Oh!" the archaeologist exclaimed excitedly. "Here! If I'm reading this correctly, there's a hidden corridor behind this wall—"

He couldn't even finish his sentence before a warning crawled up his spine and Thane slammed the unbridled kinetic strength of the Force against the weathered surface. Then again.

Malfearak found himself hopping back in surprise just before the wall crumbled. He turned to affix Thane with a glower, to which the Justicar only shrugged in answer before gesturing inside.

"After you."

Malfearak’s white-knuckled grip around the scanner did nothing to keep his hands from shaking. As he worked his way over the rubble into the secret passage, he remained distraught. He had seen much in his travels and, indeed, he had witnessed the Force manifest in many wondrous ways, and nightmarish ones too, twisted by the corruptive touch of the dark side. Somehow, this was different. Even now, as they pressed into the darkness, moving in silence to the scrapping of their boots on stone and the rhythm of the scanner’s electronic beeps, a morbid chill clung to his bones like permafrost. It permeated his senses.

He wanted to speak, say something, anything, if only to break the spell that hung over him, but he found he had nothing to say. So he followed Renatus as they descended a spiraling flight of stairs into the bowels of the castle. The architecture here was different from the rest of the structure, older, primeval, with none of the sleek, tenebrous polish of the fortress above. The passage was made of stone blocks, roughly hewn, piled in almost haphazard layers, as if the corridor itself had been twisted and corrupted by the dark side of the Force. The steps beneath his feet were just as rough, with signs of regular use apparent even through the thick coat of dust that had gathered in the decades since Vader’s death. There were no light sources, a problem Renatus solved without delay, igniting a second lightsaber, this one golden in color. The black stone walls seemed to wither and writhe as they reflected the lightsaber’s glow.

Renatus kept a steady pace downward. Malfearak followed, watching his every move. He was a strange one, this Darth Renatus. Malfearak had been elated when a request came in from the Headmistress’s office to join a research team on Mustafar, and he’d been nothing short of ecstatic when he discovered that this so-called team was composed of none other than the Justicar of the Brotherhood and only him. He never stopped to wonder why he’d been chosen for such an honor, and indeed, why would he? Afterall, he was a member of the Shadow Academy in good standing and his abilities as an archaeologist were well known in key circles. It was no surprise this man would want an expert. And yet, now, Malfearak couldn’t help but wonder why he was here. Why had he been chosen?

More importantly, what was his companion searching for? A man like the Justicar did not just leave the Dark Hall to go galavanting through some ruins, no matter who or what these ruins may hide or how important they were, and to do so without an armed guard, it all seemed like this shouldn’t be possible.

Something was off.

Malfearak licked his lips, not taking his eyes away from the newly-minted Darth, not when they reached the bottom of the stairs, not when they engaged down a tunnel carved directly into the igneous rock of Mustafar. As he walked, he reached out with the Force and opened himself to his companion’s presence, sought out his mind, and though he could not yield thoughts or intentions, he could sense his emotions, or more accurately, the lack thereof. He had thought the man to be hiding behind a mask of stoicity, and yet, it seemed to be something else entirely. He was… something else.

Who was he? What was he after?

As he honed in on his companion’s emotions, he failed to realize the growing influence of the dark side, festering and taking hold as they drew closer to their destination. He only saw the man before him, a man who now seemed as much of a threat to him as the rivers of lava above or the twisted beast that had attacked them outside. Yes, he must have brought Malfearak along to use him, to have him unravel Darth Vader’s secrets only to take them from him. Taking one hand from the scanner, he fingered the lightsaber hilt dangling from his belt. He licked his lips again.

His attention was diverted only when they stepped out of the tunnel into a wide chamber. Its domed ceiling sat beyond the reach of Renatus’ golden blade, crowned by lava but swallowed in shadow. Its walls were carved smooth and covered in ancient markings which he recognized at a glance as Sith in origin. Lava formed a perimeter around the chamber and cascades of molten stone slithered and gushed down the walls, casting orange light throughout the cave. A fiery haze hung in the air.

At the center of the room sat a stone table surrounded by strange, inclined stones, rectangular in shape and engraved with more Sith markings. Malfearak could not be certain what was the purpose of this chamber, though he had his suspicions. Of one thing, he was certain: they had reached and uncovered the vergence in the Force, the nexus of power he had sensed in the Force even as he stood outside Vader’s fortress. The Force spun around the chamber like a maelstrom, the cave itself forming the eye, the focus.

Malfearak’s breath caught in his throat at the realization of this momentous find. What he had uncovered would secure his place in the Brotherhood. Drawing from it, he could unravel the very secrets of the dark side. It would hold secrets for him no longer.

He took a deep breath but what he heard was the mechanical inhalation of Darth Vader’s breathing. He drew upon it, welcomed it, gave into it.

“Marvelous.” Darth Renatus’ voice was almost a whisper, but it might as well have been a roar the way it tore Malfearak from his reverie. Perhaps for the first time, awe was visible in the Justicar’s golden eyes. He too, saw and understood the value of this chamber. Malfearak should have rejoiced. He should have welcomed an opportunity to share the discovery of a lifetime with an academic peer, but it was not joy that he felt. No. Malfearak was shocked and terrified to find that this made him angry. Jealous. He gasped again, startled as his amethyst blade spat to life with a hiss that pierced his soul. He brought the lightsaber to bear, confused by his own actions, yet steeled by determination.

This was his. All his.

He snarled as he leapt for Renatus.

The entire chamber pulsed and flashed as lightning lanced from the Justicar’s fingers and engulfed Malfearak’s entire being. The archaeologist shrieked as the electric discharge grew in intensity, pulsing in rhythm with the chamber itself. He collapsed as lightning leapt outward from Renatus every which way, tendrils of electricity now linking him to the inclined stones around the table, turning from bright blue to a searing gold as they connected. Soon, the only sound was Malfearak’s pleading cries.

The torrent of power died as quickly as it had appeared, leaving the Justicar of the Brotherhood standing with outstretched hands, eyes glowing a bright gold before fading and returning to their normal color. A frown marked his otherwise stony face.

Malfearak writhed in pain on the ground, tendrils of smoke rising from his skin and clothes. Darth Renatus approached him slowly, knelt at his side and pressed a hand to his shoulder in an almost comfortining manner.

“How,” was all Malfearak could manage as he rolled to his back, coughing and wheezing.

“I did not require the Force to know you were beset by the foul energies of this place,” Renatus explained as he straightened up and took a step away. “I could hear it in your breathing, I could see it in your eyes ever since the throne room. Even in your step.”

“I am… sorry.”

Renatus raised a hand, held it over him and closed his eyes as he spoke, “I do not hold you accountable for your weakness. Not here. You served your purpose and you will be credited for this find. ”

At first, it was like a soft wind swept over Malfearak, almost soothing. He thought his companion was using the Force to heal the damage wrought by the electric discharge, but then it became something else. The maelstrom in the Force, the swirling energy that roared around the chamber, it was as if it bore down on him, a hurricane sweeping through the countryside tearing at everything, scouring earth and sky, creating a great vacuum, a void. And then nothing.

The Force left him altogether.

“What… what is happening?” he whimpered, his voice a weak rasp.

“You’re on time out,” said Darth Renatus, his mirth betrayed by the deadpan delivery. It wasn’t lost on Malfearak even through the lingering pain. “Do not fret, Malfearak Asvraal. I severed your connection to the Force but it is a temporary affliction.”

The newly-minted Darth turned his back to his companion and his attention to the stones that had empowered him. He stepped towards them, holding his hands out.

“Afterall, it is for your own safety.”