Black Spire Outpost is a small but thriving settlement on the Outer Rim world Batuu. Although Batuu’s remote location — it’s so far off the grid that couriers have to carry interstellar messages to a planet with a Holonet beacon — has given it a reputation as a good place to lay low and avoid attention, Black Spire has witnessed skirmishes in both the Clone Wars and the more recent war between the Resistance and First Order.

The Spire is a market town where Batuuans and the occasional outlanders come to buy and sell a surprising variety of wares. The main bazaar features handcrafted toys, clothing, pets, and the pervasive, mouthwatering scent wafting from Ronto Roaster’s grill, a converted pod racer engine. Customers interested in specialty goods tend to stick to Dok-Ondar’s Den of Antiquities or Hondo Ohnaka’s latest “highly legitimate and extremely legal import/export business venture.” The most out of place customers must be the trickle of spiritual seekers who flock to Saavi’s scrapyard to pick through rusted durasteel and droid bits in search of something special.

Although people from small Rim communities are known for a certain aloofness with outsiders, Batuuans have gleefully adapted to the increased foot traffic in the bazaar and the planet is something of a minor tourist destination for coreward travellers with a taste for the exotic. Smiles and cries of “Bright suns, traveller!” invariably lead to foreign credits lining Batuuan pockets.

Although the planet has its share of thugs, typically found in Oga’s Cantina, even a First Order garrison couldn’t shake the feeling that this is the happiest place in the galaxy.

"Look, why is it so difficult for you to understand what I'm saying to you?" Bril Teg Arga heaved an exasperated sigh and prepared to repeat himself for what felt like the millionth time. "The last known location of this artifact, an am'beta..." he paused for a moment, tapping on his vambrace to produce a holographic image of the item in question. Projected photons coalesced into the image of a circular locket large enough to fit in one's palm; runes written in Dathomiri script, a variant of the Iridonian one with which most Zabrak were familiar, encircled a large cerulean kyber crystal. "...otherwise known as a Nightsister Talisman, is Batuu. "

He stared daggers at the Ithorian standing behind the shop's counter, making sure he got a good look at the holoimage before deactivating it. "You're the most well-known collector on this side of Coruscant, maybe in the whole frakking galaxy. If anyone has it or knows where it is, it's you. So, why are you holding out on me, Dok-Ondar?"

The Ithorian looked up from the compact magnifier he held and clicked his teeth. After setting both the magnifier and the gem he'd been examining on the table, he looked Bril over for a few moments before finally speaking with a meandering, disinterested tone, "Look kid, it's nothing personal but I'm not familiar with you nor with how you conduct business. Let's say I do know where this ..." he paused, searching for the word the Zabrak had used earlier.

Bril interjected to inform him, "Am'beta"

"...Am'beta. Yes. Let's say I do know where this am'beta is. Why would I sell it to you, someone completely new and therefore completely unknown to this business, when I can find a buyer with whom I have rapport before it's time for my evening caf?"

Pressing his elbows against the wooden countertop with his head lowered, Bril rubbed the back of his neck to work out any tension that had built up over the course of what had so far been an insufferable conversation. Why did he insist on making it this difficult for him? Although he hadn't expected locating his first Dathomirian artifact to be a cakewalk, he could have never guessed that he'd be facing this much trouble at the first stage of his journey. What did that portend for how the rest of his mission would go?

"Ancestors help me," he muttered to himself, "You know my parents, Dok. Remember? Qeta and Vramati? I figured that would mean something."

"It does. I know your parents and how they conduct business, not you, Bril."

Bril pulled away from the counter with a scoff and pointed at him while walking backward toward the exit. "That's cold, Dok-Ondar. I'm going to tell my mother not to send you any of those krtaw pies you like so much," For a moment, Bril contemplated using the Force to compel him to tell him what he knew, but he couldn't risk his parents finding out that he'd Mind Tricked a family friend again. The thought of having to sit through another of his father's patented talks made him shudder.

He was halfway out the door when his back hit something that felt like another body; the lack of proper footing from his backward walk caused him to spill out onto the ground just outside the shop, knocking the other person over in the process. Quickly flipping over to his hands and knees, Bril reached to grab the item that had fallen to the ground when they collided, "Sorry about that. Didn't see you th--"

A pallid tattooed hand scooped the metal object off the ground, but not before Bril noticed that it bore the same markings as the am'beta he'd shown Dok-Ondar moments earlier. Its runic engravings were unmistakable, as were the jato - the clan tattoos - on the hand that picked it up. Bril sprang to his feet and wiped the dust off of his black and gold armor before looking to see who the other person was. As he expected, the other man was a Zabrak of similar stature to his own. And a man of taste, at that, as evidenced by the style of Jedi robes he wore. Although different in color and design to the ones he had at home, he recognized that they too were modeled after the traditional garb of Jedi from centuries prior.

Bril dipped his head to show its crown and the horns that poked through his coffee-brown dreadlocks while greeting him in Zabraki, "Anavolka." As he came out of the slight bow, his eyes shifted to the item in the man's hand. There was no doubt that this was the item he sought, but Bril wondered how he had found it.

Draca Zul mirrored the other Zabrak, dipping his head and responding with an anavolka of his own. "My apologies, friend. Probably not the best idea to stand in front of an open door," he smiled, face flushing a bit, "Let me get out of your way."

"Actually, if you have a moment, I'd like to ask you about that item you're holding," said Bril, transitioning from speaking in Basic to Zabraki when he gestured toward the locket in Draca's hand. "That's an am'beta, right? Where did you find it? I heard reports that one was spotted on Batuu, so I came here to investigate."

Not only was this armored Zabrak familiar with the item he was carrying, but he also knew enough about it to know its traditional name - its Dathomirian name. Curious. Reaching out through the Force, Draca picked up a feeling of genuine intrigue emanating from the man. As far as he could tell, he wasn't harboring any negative emotions such as greed or covetousness. What a relief.

"I believe it is an am'beta, yes," replied Draca in Zabraki, "I found it after the Force called me here, to Batuu. I'm not sure it's authentic, though, so I came here in the hopes that Dok-Ondar could authenticate it before I destroy it."

Bril's eyes widened at his explanation. "Destroy it?" he asked while shooting him an incredulous look. "Why would you destroy it?"

The taller of the two Zabrak tilted his head at Bril's response. Had he misjudged him? "This belonged to the Nightsisters, my friend. It's ... evil. As they were. It has to be destroyed."

Evil was putting it lightly. Although Bril would offer no defense of the Nightsisters and their penchant for domination, his research had revealed that they weren't the only practitioners of the unique form of shamanism native to Dathomir. Even if they were, did that mean that their cultural artifacts had any less value because of their troubled past? They were still edalin. Ancestors. The Plagueian knight shook his head disapprovingly, refusing to believe that the other Zabrak was actually planning to destroy such a priceless artifact. And yet, the man's expression hadn't changed since he explained his motivation.

"You can't do that. All Zabrak artifacts must be preserved. And this one is crucial for the continuation of my research." Frustration started to bubble beneath the surface, but he kept his emotions in check - for now.

"The Nightsisters weren't the only ones who used it. Why would you do our kin this injustice when so much has been taken from them already?" asked Bril, who took a slight step forward, narrowing his eyes in a silent plea. "Please, friend, give me the am'beta. I assure you that it won't fall into the wrong hands. But this is important. You have to see that."

'Injustice?'

Draca was taken aback by Bril's words. If his fellow Zabrak had experienced what Draca had been through, he wouldn't have hesitated to destroy the am'beta. No matter how priceless an artefact it was, it wasn't worth the haunting smell of death, the crisping flesh of his fellow Jedi.

He watched as the slightly smaller Zabrak slowly opened his palm. He wasn't expecting Draca to hand it over. It was dangerous!

"Please, I implore you. My name is Bril, and I specialise in artefacts such as these. It needs to be preserved!"

'Preserved?'

Of all the words Draca could associate with Nightsister artefacts, preserved was not one of them. He clenched his fist around the am'beta. He knew what Anders would do in this situation. He could practically hear the Chiss' voice in the back of his mind telling him to hurry up and get it over with. He knew it was right. It had to be destroyed.

"Excuse me?"

Draca hastily retreated out of the Den of Antiquities, trying to take no notice of Dok-Ondar's protestations of time wasted.

The Jedi heard the exclamations of his fellow Zabrak behind him, "Hey, wait!"

Draca tried to ignore him as he made his way through the crowded outpost. He didn't need to lose him, just make enough distance from people that he could act unimpeded.

Luckily, it seemed that Bril struggled to keep pace. Draca took the opportunity to duck into a nearby abandoned alleyway. His heart beat harder in his chest as he tossed the am'beta to the ground. Genuine or not, its evil would not corrupt anyone else. Draca grabbed his lightsaber, The brilliant-blue crossguard blade sprung to life with a snap-hiss. He held the blade over his head, ready to bring it down.

"NO!"

Draca's blade was already in motion when he heard the cry. He felt a surge in the Force come from behind him followed by a gust of wind and the ignition of a lightsaber. Bril leapt to the artefact's rescue with reckless abandon. A blue crossguard crashed into vibrant green as the strength behind Draca's strike buckled Bril's elbows, bringing his blade clos to his face.

The Jedi went wide-eyed. He quickly deactivated his weapon and staggered back. Was Bril insane!? Draca could have killed him!

"Oh no! Are you OK!? Please, let me help you," Drace mentally cursed himself as he helped Bril back onto his feet, hurriedly dusting him down. "That am'beta is not worth your li-"

The Force screamed like a klaxon in Draca's mind. He let out a panicked breath after hearing the sudden activation of Bril's shockgloves.

'No, no, NO!'

Draca needed to defend himself. He moved to activate his weapon, though the hand holding the hilt was slapped away, sending a wave of electricity through his body. The Jedi gasped at the sudden jolt. His weapon dropped to his feet. He was unable to defend himself as a knee came crashing into his face The next thing he knew he had his back on the dirt clutching at his forehead.

'ow ow ow ow OW! Dank farrik!'

It hurt like hell! What was Bril's problem!? Was the am'beta worth enough to assault him!?

He managed to open his eyes enough to see Bril scoop up the artefact in his hand before running back into the crowded marketplace. Draca couldn't let him get away. He knew what damage that artefact could do in the wrong hands; chaos and death.

'NO!'

His conscience couldn't take the thought of being responsible for the death of others. It couldn't! He wouldn't allow it!

That artefact was getting destroyed today!

Draca took a deep breath and poured the Force into his body. Immediately, the swelling on his face began to subside. He brought his arms behind his head and leapt up onto his feat. He stretched out his hand, summoning his lightsaber back to his grip.

Bril was going to regret not taking it when he had the chance.

The Force empowered Draca and strengthened his legs. It gave him power and the confidence he needed to do what needed to be done. He leapt to the top of a nearby roof to gain a vantage point over the marketplace. Luckily, a Zabrak donning Mandalorian armour was easy to spot, even in a crowd. Bril hadn't made it too far.

Good.

Draca's grip tightened on his lightsaber as he leapt down from his vantage point. He landed in front of Bril, who stopped dead in his tracks. People gathered in a circle around the two Force Users.

"Look, I'm sorry, but I can't let you destroy it," Bril clutched the am'beta close to his chest, cherishing it like a family heirloom. It began to glow a deathly green, startling everyone around them, especially Draca.

It was real.

Bril's eyes took on the same green hue. This wasn't good. Draca carefully raised his lightsaber. "I'm giving you one last chance, Bril. Surrender the am'beta. I don't want to hurt you."

Bril bit down on his lip and spat on the ground. "There's no talking you out of this, is there?"

"Look at what it's doing to you!" Draca exclaimed. "It's latching onto you. It's twisting your mind. You aren't thinking straight. Please, I can help. I'm not your enemy…"

"If you are that concerned, then come and take it from me!" he spat at Bril.

Draca's heart ached for Bril. He doubted the other Zabrak had noticed how aggressive his tone had become. There was only one thing for it now. Draca answered by activating his lightsaber. The crossguard blades sprung to life as he held the weapon above his head in the Djem So bracing stance. Even in death, the Nightsisters caused trouble.

Not today.

No one would die today.

Draca was hell-bent on saving Bril and destroying the artefact.

Bril activated his lightsaber, seething as the Force granted him increased speed and mobility. He lunged towards Draca in an unpredictable pattern, attempting to cleave the larger Zabrak's arms from his shoulders.

When the two Zabrak brandished their lightsabers, the small crowd of Batuuan residents that had gathered to see what all the commotion was about took several steps backward. Although many of them hadn't seen a lightsaber in person, they had heard enough stories to know that they should give the deadly weapons a wide berth now that they had been drawn.

Bril's saber became a blur of light as he approached, and he likely would have cut Draca's arms in twain if the Jedi hadn't sensed him coming. A tingling, frantic feeling not unlike what one felt when given a good scare surged through Draca's body, warning him a few precious moments before Bril struck that he was in imminent danger. Knowing that that wasn't enough time to think about what to do, the larger Zabrak let his body react instead, twisting to the side and twirling his wrist to bring his saber's blade in the perfect position to parry Bril's attack.

"Fight it, i'nuin," implored Draca. Fight it, my friend. "I can sense that you're strong enough to resist."

Unfortunately, Draca's words didn't earn him more than a scowl.

Teal light born from their sabers clashing and locking in place painted their faces. Eager to gain the advantage in their struggle, Bril pressed his weight against Draca's blade to overcome him, but the kriffing Jedi didn't budge. It was like he was trying to push through a brick wall.

Draca threw one hand to the side, and by the time Bril sensed danger, it was already too late. Something large and gray suddenly appeared in the corner of his eye right before slamming into him. The only thing Bril managed to do was deactivate his saber before the metal crate swept him to the side and into a nearby illumination post. Luckily for him, his Phoenix Armor took the brunt of the attack and prevented him from getting anything more than a bruise or two. Bril unhooked his helmet from his hip and secured it on his head, causing its built-in MFTAS system to flare to life; a small red box formed around Draca on the visor's heads-up display, a clear reminder that for now, the man was Bril's enemy.

Bril wasted no time in attacking again; however, instead of attacking with his lightsaber, he pointed his Mandalorian vambrace at Draca and clenched his fist twice. Three tiny rockets known as Whistling Birds exploded from the beskar vambrace and zipped through the air with a high-pitched whine. Although his opponent defended using his lightsaber with ease, the small explosions created when the mini rockets met his saber's blade gave Bril an opening to deploy his vambrace's flamethrower.

If there was one thing he knew, it was that the robes modeled after the High Republic Jedi were not the most flame-retardant material. And that showed when the other Zabrak's clothes caught fire. He needed to finish this quickly.

As Bril watched the other Zabrak hit the ground and howl in pain while the flames licked at his skin, he heard a familiar voice creep into his mind.

Finish him, my beloved. . .

The words, spoken in his native tongue of Zabraki with a devilishly sensual tone, evoked memories of his time spent on Selen. Feelings of anger and hurt flashed into his mind, as did images of his new friends looking at him with expressions of shock and disappointment; worst of all, though, were the memories of a fierce Nautolan woman failing to deliver a final, fatal blow in their conflict and fracturing before his very eyes. The sight and sound of her sobbing burned into Bril's mind.

When the Plagueian knight hesitated and cast a wavering glance at his lightsaber, the voice returned.

Do this and your path to true power will reveal itself.

Bril deactivated his vambrace's flamethrower and stumbled backward, leaving Draca to frantically roll across the dusty ground to extinguish the flames that crawled across his body.

"T-This isn't right," he stammered, struggling to get the words out with the malevolent presence building in his mind and threatening to root itself there as it had weeks prior. He hooked his lightsaber on his waist and clutched his head with the same hand.

Why was this happening again? Things had gotten better following his meditation training with his master, yet the voices had returned with the same intensity as before. The glint of the am'beta's kyber crystal in the Batuuan sun caught his eye. Of course. The Jedi had been right all along.

As if on cue, his realization summoned not a voice, but rather a wave of baleful intent that washed in from the distant shores of his mind, threatening to wash away the fortifications he'd built there through weeks of careful meditation. It brought him to one knee, and his grip on the Nightsister artifact tightened.

Different voices bubbled up into his awareness now, and he recognized them as the words of his friends Karran, and Minnow, the same Nautolan who'd appeared in his mind earlier.

. . .find your balance, and you will find yourself. . .

. . .I, as a Mandalorian, grant you that chance we all hold highest: to let what you do define you, not what those before you have done. . .

Conflicting emotions clashed on the battlefield of his conscience, and just when it seemed like the Dark Side would succeed in claiming his mind again, the words of his friends - his family - provided the strength he needed to overcome its temptations.

"Never. . .again!" he shouted through gritted teeth and called on the Force to enhance his strength. The muscles in his forearm swelled and flexed, providing him with more than what he needed to crush the metal artifact. A large crack split the central kyber crystal in two before it exploded into countless pieces, sending a wave of sickly green energy rippling through the air. The haunting sound of disembodied wails was the last thing he heard before the am'beta's glow faded, allowing him to cast the shattered pieces into the dirt beneath his feet.

Breathing heavily, Bril took a moment to regain his breath before moving to make sure the Jedi was okay. He wasn't moving but a quick survey confirmed that the man was still alive and conscious. His face and exposed torso were covered in burns that likely would have made Bril sick to his stomach if he was squeamish. "I'm sorry, friend," he said, words dripping with remorse. "You were right."

As Bril hovered his hands above the worst of the Zabrak's wounds and entreated the Force to aid him in healing his wounds, Draca began to speak in a strained, hoarse voice.

"I-It's alright. I'm just glad you made the right choice."

"Don't talk," commanded Bril, "Just focus on healing. If we can do this together, then you should be better in no time."

And that's what he did.

Although he tried to keep his concentration squarely on healing the man's injuries, Bril couldn't shake the nagging feeling of failure and disappointment in himself that loomed in his mind. His lack of control and arrogance had hurt another person who hadn't deserved it. Something needed to change. That's what he kept telling himself as he did his best to right the wrong he'd committed today.

Something would change.

Draca saw it coming before he felt it. Bril was about to swing his emerald-bladed lightsaber in a vertical arch towards him, and the Jedi went wide-eyed when instead, the Plagueian committed to a swift turn, weaving around him with a horizontal strike to his Draca's torso.

The Jedi turned his blade just in time to meet the strike, his crossguard blade protecting his hands and hilt from Bril's attack. Draca exhaled the breath he didn't realise he was holding. That was far too close for comfort.

Bril continued with a series of staccato sequences, each as unpredictable as the next. He ducked, side-stepped, flourished, and struck in a manner Draca had rarely encountered before. He had, however, read about it.

Vaapad. Controlled aggression.

However…

Draca did not move his feet.

The Force held him steady, like a statue undeterred by the oncoming storm. It grounded him, keeping him planted as Bril barraged him with strikes from all directions. He was the immovable object to Bril's unstoppable force, a spectacle to all those watching.

Draca didn't dare move. There were too many people surrounding them. If he pushed back, he risked harming an innocent bystander, and that was something he could never live with. His case in point was proven when Bril's lightsaber grazed a nearby civilian's shoulder. Draca's heart skipped a beat, though thankfully, it was not damage that the unlucky Duros wouldn't recover from. It elicited gasps from the onlookers, but very few left for their safety, instead choosing to take a single step back.

The Nightsister Amulet began to glow brighter, draining the light of the area around them. Lightning cracked the sky asunder, the imminent feeling of death pressing down on them.

"Bril, you have to stop!" Draca cried out. "Look at what's happening!"

"Shut up!" Bril screamed back, hammering into Draca with unrelenting blows. "Shut up, shut up, shut up, SHUT UP!"

"You are better than this!" Draca hard-blocked another attack. "Do not give into the darkness!"

Bril was losing control. Slowly, but steadily, his movements became more erratic, more spontaneous. Gone was the usual aggressive restraint of Vaapad. Bril had surrendered to the dark side instead of being the one in control of it.

It was all because of that am'beta.

Draca had to end this. Now.

Before it was too late.

With the Force behind him, he leapt to a nearby rooftop. A strike of lightning from the skies above nearly made him lose his footing. Water started to pour down on them from the skies above. The storm descended upon them, a crescendo of rain and thunder. He closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. He tightened his grip on his lightsaber. All he had to do was wait.

Sure enough, Bril shot up into the air after him, twirling with a ferocious motion. The speed the Plagueian moved at made him look like a swarm of hungry mynocks after a starship. Draca readied himself, bent his knees, and…

He swung at Bril with Force-enhanced strength. The Plagueian brought his lightsaber up to meet it, but the sheer power behind the attack was unlike anything Bril had experienced up to this point. It completely halted the Arcanist's momentum as he slid across the rooftop, stopping only at the very edge.

Draca took advantage of Bril's disorientation. He forced the am'beta out of the Plagueian's hand, placed it at his feet, and raised his lightsaber.

"Bril reached out for it. "NO!"

Draca's lightsaber cleaved through it like a hot knife through butter. The am'beta snapped in half, and yet, it began to tremble. The air around it became hot as it began to glow a crimson red. The dark side swelled within as it pulled everything towards it like a black hole.

The Jedi's eyes went wide. He knew what was coming. Why did Bril have to fight for this artefact!?

'Why, why, why, why, WHY!?'

Draca dropped his lightsaber and beelined it for Bril. Having a weapon wouldn't mean anything if he was dead, and his fellow Zabrak's life was his priority.

The Plagueian shot up to his feet after being freed from the am'beta. He grabbed hold of Draca, and launched them both off the twenty-foot high roof.

BOOM!

One second they were mid-air, and then Draca felt like he was hit by a haymaker in his spine. The pain shot through his body like hot coals were being seared into his flesh. The thunderous boom tore through the landscape as a strong gale-like wind sent both Zabraks careening across the outpost.

Draca crashed first, rolling to a stop amidst a set of supply crates which, mercifully, cushioned his fall. Once the ringing in his ears finally stopped, he staggered back to his feet, the pain shooting down his legs. He called upon the Force to soothe him, the pain numbing with each step he took. The wreckage above them from the rooftop burned, sending waves of ashes into the atmosphere.

"Is everybody OK?" Draca asked the surrounding public.

He then spotted Bril, on his knees, staring at the wreck. The younger Zabrak shook his head.

"What have I done?" Bril asked no-one I'm particular. "What have I done?"

What could Draca do except the one thing he knew how to do? He dropped next to Bril and wrapped his arms around the Plagueian.

"It's OK," Draca said. "Everything is going to be OK. You learn from this, and you become stronger. You'll see… you'll see…"