On the fringes of the Outer Rim territories and famous as the one-time location of the Rebel Alliance, Hoth is a frigid world marred with fissures created from the tidal pull of Hoth’s three moons. Blanketed in a frozen ocean, massive oceanic currents beneath the southern hemisphere are the cause of constant seismic activities that result in a constantly shifting landscape of tunnels and caves.

Buried into the side of a fissure reaching hundreds of meters into the core of the planet is a network of tunnels leading into a cave. Its sole entrance is suspended within the wall of the fissure, requiring one to rappel down the dangerous crevasse and into the tunnels; one small miscalculation could send explorers descending the rest of the unmeasured height deep within the planet’s core.

Insulated under several hundred meters of ice in all directions, the cave is protected against the gale force winds and the intense snowstorms that sweep along the planet’s surface. As a result, the cave is warmer than most of Hoth’s unforgiving cold with melting icicles dangling precariously overhead. In turn, this allows for more life to grow in addition to being a promising habitat for the hulking Wampas that have been trapped this far below the surface. Beginning to thaw, it is obvious that this cave will eventually fall victim to seismic activity to disappear into the sheets of ice that surround it. Illuminating the cave’s interior with a dull blue glow, a luminous form of lichen has taken up residence among the bones of the creatures unfortunate enough to be trapped here.

Caution must be exercised if one is to navigate the slippery slopes of the cave as melted icicles drip onto the cavern’s floor surface. In one corner of the cave, the ocean water has accumulated to form a large pool, providing sustenance to the rare lumni-spice growing within the crystalline complex, never to see the blue-white sun.

The LAAT/i transport, emblazoned with Clan Odan-Urr markings, dropped from the sky over the snow-filled tundra. Soaring just above the melting snow, the craft lifted a cloud of particles, creating angel wings in its wake. Decelerating slowly over a low ridgeline, it fell into a valley on the other side, swiftly finding its target: the battered remains of a base once used by the One Sith to conduct covert operations on New Tython. It had been destroyed shortly after New Tython’s liberation by a group of rogue Odan-Urr Jedi.

Some of the shelters seemed to be in place still, along with a destroyed power generator and several anti-air defense batteries still intact. The main landing pad, once propped on a nearby flat-top, now hung precariously over a deep crevasse.

As the ship landed not too far from its destination, Satele Shan’s Quaestor Mako Henymory and his trusted Mandalorian companion jumped out. “Wait for us here. we won’t be long,” Mako ordered the pilot and co-pilot.

“Aye, sir,” they replied simply and in unison.

The two companions trudged through the snow and surveyed what was left of the former base. What shelters remained standing were covered in thick ice and snow. The once powerful generator, now rubble and debris, seemed to be embedded into the hilltop behind it from heavy snowfall. Two anti-air batteries remained standing while the third collapsed into the same crevasse that swallowed part of the landing pad.. Along with it, the main building seemed to collapse into the depths.

“I don’t believe this was here last we checked,” Lilly spoke up, voice distorted by the modulator in her helmet. “What do you think?”

“Must have happened recently. The explosion must have weakened the ice underneath and it opened once the snows melted, I suppose,” Mako replied with a puff of warm breath from under his winter headgear. “Shame. But if we do find anything here, it will probably be in that main shelter that is wrecked at the bottom.”

“You serious?” The Mandalorian’s expression could almost be felt through her visor. “It’s dangerous down there, especially with so much snowmelt.”

“I am completely aware, but our objective is down there, not up here. Besides, it’s a small climb and a lot of searching through debris. I doubt we’ll find anything useful any—”

Both of them stopped as they noticed tracks in the melting snow, leading down into the crevasse.

“Now what’re the odds of that?” Lilly spoke up first.

“Someone comes here the same day we announce it to the Council, you mean?” the Hhuman replied. With all that happened with the Sentinel network recently, the idea that someone was covering their tracks wasn’t that farfetched. “Only one set of prints. Curious.”

“Yeah, I’d expect several. Maybe a small squad.” The Mandalorian pulled out her pistol as she peeked over the edge into the crevasse below. Her helmet’s systems made short work of the darkness blocking her view, yet she could not make out a good descending path. The walls were solid ice, albeit cracked in places, with several large alcoves formed in the tearing. She’d need a rope or a jetpack. “No ropes either;” she noticed. “I have a bad feeling about this, Mako.”

“We’re in a precarious situation here,” the Quaestor mused. “No choice. You’ll stay behind and cover the ship. We can’t leave it defenseless.”

“What? No,” she replied as she turned to face him, the expressionless visor reluctant to reveal any emotion, but he felt it clearly enough, like a million times before: anxiety.

“I will go down and search for what I need. If there are any more of them around, they’ll just be waiting for the opportunity to take the transport. And there’s no one I trust more to handle threats.” His look gave her no more confidence than his idea. “Alright?”

She sighed, cursed something silently in Mando’a and nodded. “Fine. You better get back up here in fifteen minutes or I’m coming down to look for you.”

“Fair enough,” he said before he surveyed the crevasse once more and jumped down onto the first available alcove. From on high the darkness seemed impenetrable, but as he jumped further down, light shone strongly enough for him to see without problem. Finally, he reached the bottom. Its vertical walls turned into a sloped slide of generations-old ice that seemed to engulf what remained of the shelter, which itself was broken into pieces, probably from the harsh fall into the depths. Most of what remained of the shelter slid deeper into what appeared to be a massive cave.

So this is why she broke, Mako thought as he observed the crevasse walls and the light coming from above. The explosion just served to hasten the process. He searched his immediate surroundings finding only shattered prefab walls, junk and tracks in the thin layer of snow, leading deeper into the cave. He could just barely make out something familiar, some presence he thought he had felt before. Steeling his resolve, his senses on high alert, the human traipsed deeper.

”Henymory,” he heard a heavy and deep voice boom through the cave as he reached the deepest part, the shelter’s remains strewn throughout. He had heard it before, he was certain.

“Show yourself,” he ordered as his hand touched the hilt on his belt.

“As you wish.”

Ice crunched under heavy footsteps as the armored form of the Brotherhood’s Herald appeared from behind one of the shattered walls of the shelter, still standing upright despite the damage. She wore a heavy winter coat and heel-spiked boots to grip the ice sheet. Mako brows furrowed in surprise as much as confusion.

“Lady Herald, what—?” The echo of her saber snapping to life stopped him in his tracks, his own hilt appearing in his hand more on instinct than any sense of reason. Like a hovertrain, she was on him in moments, the very first strike aimed at his neck. With mild shock in his eyes, the operative deflected and dodged, his heart racing in his chest. Adrenaline burst into his blood like a watertap, sending his survival instincts into a frenzy.

The Herald’s attacks came swiftly from many sides, flashing around his cone of defense like a multitude of angry vipers. The lava blade dipped into the ice sheet, flash boiling it as it came in low for a leg swipe. Mako jumped over the swing, bringing his own blade down to slice her in twain. A solid wall of energy deflected his saber away, making him lose his balance and giving her enough time to continue her barrage of attacks. She did not relent until he slipped on the ice and slid several meters from her.

Stepping away, the Neti give him time to recuperate and find his bearings. Her blade twirled in her hand; her eyes, as cold as the ice they stood on, looked him over from head to toe. “Stand up, Henymory! I will have words,” she sneered and readied herself for another attack.

Mako laid upon his back, the cold of the ice underneath him slightly permeating through his cold weather jacket. The chill against his skin gave him enough distraction to calm his jumbled thoughts. Being attacked by a Councillor of Urr had been the last thing he expected. Though as he looked upon the Neti he considered the ramifications of her actions. V’yr was not one to act in haste and without motivation. He could think of several motivators off hand yet only a few made sense given the circumstances.

“I sincerely doubt words are what you are seeking,” the Quaestor’s voice was devoid of emotion as he pulled himself into a sitting position, “no I think you are looking for answers. Ones you can only find within actions.”

“Stop stalling Henymory,” the Herald’s eyes narrowed with impatience, her saber at the ready, the lava blade casting a fire side glow thru the cave. A strange feeling came over the Neti as she looked upon the Seer, as if the Living Force had begun to flow toward, then into, the Human.

“Considering the recent changes within the Sentinel Network I first thought that another traitor had come forward to relieve me of my life. Though giving me time to return to my feet and losing the advantage speaks a different tale,” Mako said as he rose to a standing position, his feet spread into a wide stance, arms raised slightly in defense, his hands absent of his weapons.

The draw upon the Living Force had rose to a torrent, Vorsa could almost see the Force as it rushed into the Quaestor like water within a whirlpool. Then without warning the Neti’s feeling was replaced with a tingle along her spine and warning bells exploding in her mind. An arc of Force guided electricity jumped from the man’s fingertips flash boiling the ice and snow where the Herald’s feet had been but a heartbeat before. Steam rose, slightly distorting her view of the Human as a second bolt rushed forward into the wall of the cave beside her face. Something warm splashed against her face and coat as more steam swirled around her head. The realization came to the Warden as the liquid began to revert to ice, that he was not aiming for her. Wiping the now freezing water from her face Vorsa sneered and reached into Force herself.

The scuffing sound of boots sliding across ice filled the cave, as Mako moved toward the Neti. Having concluded that not lifting his feet would lessen his chance of falling again the Quaestor had chosen to skate instead of run. A pressure at the base of the Krath’s skull prompted Henymory to drop to his knees and lean back as a focused wave of Force guided and compressed telekinetic energy passed where his chest had been moments before. Pushing off the Ice floor with his hands, to quicken his rise, the Krath let loose his own telekinetic attack at the Herald. The wise old Neti dove to the side as snow and ice chips kicked up in the wake of the blow, the ice wall visibly dented and cracked upon impact. The red glow that had permeated the cave washed away to white and yellow light with a hiss, as the Seer’s own sabers sprang to life.

The distance quickly closed between the two combatants and a flurry of violence enclosed them, their blades moving in a chaotic dance of promised death. This time however it was the Human that held the advantage, his twin blades flowing around the Neti, moving from defense to offense as easily as the wind changes direction. The offsetting angles of attack keep the woman’s singular blade bouncing from one point of vulnerability to the next. With a parry half guided through her immersion within the Force, half guided by her centuries of experience Vorsa knocked the aggressors white blade away and to the ground. Capitalizing on the shift in the flow of the fight, Vorsa struck Henymory’s second blade with all her strength, the yellow light faded as the hilt skidded across the ice.

His own experience proving once more to be his saving grace Mako’s palm found purchase on the bottom the Herald’s hilt, aided through the Force his strike relieved the Neti of her weapon. His feet sliding forward the Krath closed the remaining gap between them, his stance widening, giving him a greater stability on the ice. Mako’s shoulder literally shrugged off the Neti’s opening hand strike. His open palm retorted, setting her off balance as it hit the woman’s hip. Flowing upwards with his weave, Mako’s elbow then opposite palm slammed into Vorsa’s right side one after another, his strength increased via means of the Force, a decisive crunch reverberating from the second impact.

The hiss and lava hue of the Herald’s reserve blade caused the Quaestor to pull back, opening himself up to receive the heel of her boot. The spikes designed to grip into the ice cut through cold weather gear and flesh alike. The force of the blow sent the man skidding across the ice on his back once again.

“Your words are more tactful than I gave you credit for,” Vorsa’s voice cut through the cave as she tenderly touched her injured ribs.

“Yours are far more fierce than your features foretell,” the Human replied as he sat up and drew the Force to himself again, focused on knitting his chest back together as the cloth began to turn crimson with blood. Judging by the strength and stamina left in the Herald, Henymory realized he would not be able to keep the pace as long as Vorsa, he needed to finish her quickly or attempt to flee. As the two gathered themselves, Mako silently hoped that fifteen minutes had not yet passed.

Surprisingly, Vorsa gave her opponent enough time to recover and stand up again. She had no intention of seriously hurting the man. He was the Quaestor after all, and Turel seemed to trust him. But still, she needed to understand him and find answers to questions lingering in her mind. For all his expertise and devotion to his work, Henymory was an unknown to her and that made him a wild card. She needed to know his true purpose and the ends to which he was prepared to go for his new Clan. She would not risk life and limb facing the Grand Master's wrath while someone destroyed her home from the inside.

So she waited and bided her time, standing firmly in-between Mako and his only exit. Her aura seemed to shift noticeably and she relaxed her shoulders as her healing capabilities took root in the gash on her side. She extended her neck several times before focusing on her opponent again, who seemed ready to react to any sudden move, while himself still recovering whatever wounds he had sustained. “Do you understand why I have confronted you here, in this isolated place?” she asked, none too politely, with a tinge of authority in her voice. “I do not trust you, just as you do not trust me. So I am here to understand one thing.” She paused as her aura changed again and Mako felt that special tingle in his spine. “Will you endure?”

The Seer’s eyebrow raised in a micro-expression just before he sensed her next attack. Ice crackled and broke under pressure, as the massive hulk of wooden muscle charged him head on. She slashed diagonally, nicking the icepack underfoot on one side and sending steam and boiling water in his direction.

The Quaestor wouldn’t fall for his own trick. He dodged the watery projectiles with precision and alacrity, deflecting her saber as well as her flimsy cross punch. He found himself flipping back against her remorseless attack, barely catching his footing on the slippery floor. The Neti met his acrobatics with a solid knee to the jaw as she flew through the air, propelled by the Force’s guiding hand. Teeth rattled in his skull as the Neti’s massive strength sent him tumbling. For a mere moment in time, the Seer’s mind spun in circles, stars and blackness appearing in front of his eyes.

But he had control. With but a thought that found its way into his mind through the Force, the Seer’s vision cleared and the pain subsided enough for him to react. He used the momentum of the kick and let his opponent’s energy lead him. With the Force as his guide, Mako fell into a perfect backwards somersault, pushed off of the far icy wall and dodged another slash from the Neti. A quick one-two step off of the wall and he landed a firm kick to her lingerous cheek. As he tumbled away, Vorsa shook off the blow and stared him down.

“Will you endure, Henymory?” she yelled now, her voice echoing through the cave as the man retreated back towards the entrance, still facing her. Mako regained his bearing though it took several moments for him to shake off the pain. Vorsa approached with speed, filled with energy enough to last a day. Her lavablade deflected his attempt at a stroke with masterful precision, just as he backpedaled further away and towards the crevasse.

“Will you endure what I suspect is coming? Will you hold your ground against insurmountable odds, and not fall to whatever sickening darkness plagues your heart?” she hollered through the cave like a madwoman.

Mako could feel the Neti’s raw power filling the space around him. He sensed her thoughts as she conveyed images for his mind’s eye to see; images of the multitudes of loyalists and soldiers, looking at her with disdain and hate; images of the many assassination attempts and the many she had killed in defense; images of the Dark Council and the horror that was the Grand Master. He also felt the darkness inside her, eating away at her core every so slowly; one she kept at bay most successfully.

She let it all loose for him to see, sense and feel. “There is a storm coming, Henymory. I know there is. New Tython will see a new war sooner rather than later, and I will be at death’s door when that moment comes. Your Consul foresaw it.” At the mention of her beloved sister her voice mellowed, even though her expression did not. “When I am gone, who will protect them?”

She still held her saber firmly in hand, ready to jump at him again. “I will ask once more, and only once more. Will you endure?”

The Seer blinked as he drew the Force into himself once again. If the Neti was ignorant enough to give him a spare moment, he might as well capitalize upon it.

“Endure it, what a strange question to ask,” The Krath replied as his opponent's face twisted into a sneered, her own darkness twisting her mind.

“Will you endure it!,” the woman screamed, her mental vision flickering out of Henymory’s mind.

“Absolutes, always with the absolutes from you Jedi,” A sigh escaped his lips as he spoke, “endure it, no I will not endure it.”

The man’s words tipped Vorsa over the edge, her anger manifesting within as she charged once more at. The lava blade tore through the air as it seeked to find a new home within the Quaestor. The Heralds branches tingled with warning causing her forward momentum to slow the slightest bit. A flash of white erupted from Mako’s hand, bisecting the tip of the lava saber’s hilt, a spot her wrist should have been. The white glow dimmed briefly as the man spun and then the mad tree’s vision blurred as the Krath’s elbow connected.

“When did you retrieve your second saber?” Vorsa inquired as she picked herself up of the ice. One hand gingerly touching the fresh wound upon her face, the other tossing her destroyed saber away.

“I do not endure, I survive, only a fool would wait patiently in place for Pravus and his Iron Legion to crush them. There is nothing heroic in merely enduring an onslaught. If an overwhelming force comes upon you, flee, save your own life and those of your comrades,” his words were devoid of emotion, he spoke as if merely stating a fact of life. The Herald raised her spare saber in reply, it’s glow distorting her face into an ominus sight. A bloodthirsty smile crossed Mako’s lips as he brought both of his weapons to bare.

“You act as though I am intimidated by your very presence, I assure you that only works on fools,” the Quaestor chuckled as he taunted the Herald. It was true that she was a talented fighter, but the whispered legends about the woman were grossly exaggerated. No she was merely another opponent that Mako had to fight, and one that he knew he should not kill. “It is a pity truly, I would love to remove that dense head of yours, drunk on your own legend and lies. However I doubt the Clan would let me live afterwards.”

“Silence!” Vorsa half spit and half yelled, for some reason this man’s words had an infuriating effect upon her. Henymory however took to the offensive first, his blades carving deep gouges in the ice as they moved with the purpose of taking the woman’s life. After several minutes the Seer broke away from the Herald.

“I hope you found the answers you were seeking,” the Krath spoke as he put his lightsabers away, “I for one am exhausted so I will call it here for today.”

“We are not yet done Henymory,” Vorsa stepped forward as she spoke, trying desperately to block the Quaestor’s exit. However ice cave creaked and groaned, causing the Herald to stop in her tracks.

“Oh we are done, the structural damage we inflicted to this cave has caused it to become unstable, one simple application of pressure and it will trap you here,” Mako spoke as he backed slowly into the mouth of the cave, then with a wave of his hand the Krath applied the necessary pressure through the Force. Vorsa flashed the Quaestor a dirty gesture as the ice came down around her.

Back at the surface, Mako’s companion pulled him over the edge of the cliff ledge. His breath came fast and hard as exhaustion overtook the man. It was not the first time he had seen a Neti go crazy, but he certainly hoped it was the last.

“Crazy tree, trapped it in cave, still alive, lets leave.”

“You are lucky I speak exhausted Mako,” Lilly said with a grin as she sent the signal for the pilots to pick them up.

Mako leaned on the young Mandalorian woman, he could still feel the rage coming from the Herald far below. He would need to report this incident to the Clan, sooner rather than later.