"What is this?" Bentre marveled out the viewport.

"It looks like a rainbow." Darkhawk marveled from his seat aboard the bridge of the *Perdition*. "Or the surface of a lake."

"That is no lake," the Consul breathed. "That is like an ocean."

The clacking of boots on the floor plates caused the Corellian Sith to look sideways. His fleet commander, Araic Simonetti was standing at attention, carefully watching the Sadowan Overlord. "Science teams are reporting an electrical disturbance within proximity of the anomaly, sir."

The Adept sighed, looking at the rippling surface. For the first time in years, he felt small. The galaxy was already a big place, but he had managed to eek out a position and authority over the Orian system. He had access to untold records as the Master of Holocrons and had studied a lot both in personal academic pursuits as well as his research for the Aurora Collegium and the Shadow Academy.

"Is there any way that we can send someone out there to get some more accurate measurements?"

"Ships are expensive, Overlord. I don't know how willing that a pilot would be to risk their lives in the face of this." Araic motioned at the large viewport. "Fighting for the system or the Clan is one thing, but this is more of a force of nature than-" He paused, his eyes searching the kaleidoscope of light that stretched before the Imperial-II Star Destroyer. "This is more of a force of nature. There is no fighting this."

"Are you preemptively refusing an order, Simonetti?" There was no mirth or curiosity in the Sith Consul's words. He locked eyes with the Admiral. The Loyalist did not look down, did not look away, nor turn his face in the slightest. The tension between the two was palpable. For a moment, it appeared the understanding between the unstable Sith and the naval officer. The words hung in the air to the point that Bentre Sadow could feel the eyes of the bridge officers on the both of them. He tilted his head, raising his eyebrows to silently request an answer once again. The two had bonded over stories of home long ago, but it appeared that the goodwill of the Orian system's dictator had its limits.

"I am merely making an observation, Overlord."

The tension did not ease. Bentre felt his lip curl in a combination of disgust and frustration. He lifted his hands for a moment, trembling slightly before he found his peace. Instead, he pointed emphatically at the starscape before them.

"There are shapes out there. Strange stars. There are doubtless planets. There could be life out there. The Headmistress will want to know what is out there. The Grand Master will want to know what we have found."

"So we must return to Arx." Simonetti stiffened slightly at this. He clearly anticipated an outburst. Instead, the Sadow crumpled slightly and shook his head.

"I can't just leave this here."

"I can't order my men into such uncertain death. I refuse to take the *Perdition* into unknown space without having some sort of reconnaissance. There are too many lives, and the ship is too expensive. Even if you had the credits to make up for the potential lost vessel, there is too much at stake."

Bentre Sadow looked out at the viewport, silent. Eventually, Darkhawk Sadow spoke up in a quiet tone. "What are you orders, sir?" This actually made Bentre smile slightly. If nothing else, Takagari had always proven himself to be loyal and dutiful. He considered the words before shrugging. He even dipped his consciousness into the Force.

The space beyond the veil was vacant in the Force. It was not as though there was nothing out there. A nearby star blazed vividly within a quick hyperspace jump. There was no sense in the Force, however. For the first time, he felt nothing there. It was as though the Force did not touch the world beyond the veil, despite binding the galaxy together.That sense was alien to the Adept. Whatever was beyond this barrier was the ultimate unknown. The Elder was shaken to his core.

"There is nothing for it, Takagari." He nodded at the Proconsul. "Have the crew prepare my shuttle. There is a lot of space out there. Someone has to explore it. There is a solar system nearby. Have the Perdition hold position here, and if I do not return within 48 hours, then I want you to return to the Orian System. The Clan will need a new Consul, and you have access to my archives and the museum." Bentre nodded at the viewport. "I am going to go out there. Someone has to bring word back, and if our men are unwilling to risk the unknown, then it is up to me. I will go along, into the breach."

This is a bit bizzare, Bentre thought to himself. What is a guy to do when he has two spirits in his head?

*These are the times, Kairn'tel, when you have to seize control.* The dark voice of his family's oppressor pushed at the back of his head.

"Defiler!" The gravelly voice of something unbidden escaped from Bentre's lips. "You have no power here!"

*Do you really think that this is the first time that this one has had the presence of another in his head? His voices alone are enough to drive one mad.* The old spirit groused. *Well, crazier, if it were possible.*

Bentre gripped the table, grinding his teeth together. "This is too much already! I have an Empire to rule. What do the two of you expect to get out of me.

*Power.* The old spirit groused. *The sort that Tasha'Vel and her grandfather could never have imagined. I want to grant you the strength to make the Dark Council bow to your will. Imagine, the likes of Pravus, Mav, even the Keibatsu groveling at your feet, waiting for your commands.*

"What sort of drivel is he asking of you, this pretender!?" The new spirit jeered. "I have access to powers, to spells, to rituals the likes that you would never experience with the influence of one so limited. The secrets of the Force itself are mine to command, and you would bow to this ghost of an oppressor?"

Bentre's mind reeled. His plans were falling apart around him.

*I have the plans for superweapons.*

"I have ages of medical secrets and arcane mysteries at my very fingertips.

*I have already helped to carve out a place for you in your labs, Kairn'tel. Do you think that I would lead you wrong at this time?*

"I have," the newer spirit, "access to things that even the Grand Masters do not know. The Children of Mortis, the location of the True Sith, the secret vaults below the surface of Tarthos and many secrets that went to the grave with Urias Orian!" The newer voice cackled with Bentre's voice. "Are you really willing to let all that slip through your fingers?"

*What if you let your current work slip?* The cool voice of the old spirit Ferras'ota cooed in the former Obelisk's ears. There are still secrets to be uncovered that current medical technology have only started to unlock. Look at the Collegium and it's work. Do you trust that this* thing *will possess anything they could not uncover?*

"But at what cost?" The new spirit hissed, stressing at Bentre's already raw throat. "What thing has he asked of you?"

*The legacy.* Ferras'ota grumbled. *All I want is to direct the path of the future and to complete my work. Our ways are similar, Kairn'tel. You know this."

"I...I don't know." Bentre hated to express the weakness in that moment. He shook his head, trying to will both voices to quiet.

"Weakness!" The new spirit shrieked. "Are you truly to heir to the legacy of Urias Orian or are you just a Corellian dog?"

*See how it pressures you. We have a history though, Bentre. You know what we seek to complete.*

"Time." Bentre gasped. "I need time. I don't have the means of extracting you both yet, and you both have some use to me. I will not force you both out. I will not force one of you out. I will not be commandeered!"

A shrill giggle escaped his lips. "Oh, what are you going to do to stop us?"

A knock came from the door of his office. Bentre cleared his throat, hoping his normal voice would reassert itself. "Come in."

"Sir." It was Takagari. "Is everything alright?"

Bentre waved a hand. "Fine. I am fine. Just having some doubts."

*Liar.* The newer voice seemed calmed, but the Adept's head pounded. This was going to take some getting used to.

On Sepros he sits,
Orian's master and king,
his voice shatters wits,
and makes our folk sing.

Oh, can't you see folks,
he is our Bentre,
his very presence invokes,
comfort and carefree

He is our Overlord,
our Master, our king,
he leads us forward,
his praises we sing

he united our people,
he slayed our invaders,
though he is not so peaceful,
we do not suffer the raiders.

He rules with a fist,
not kindness or joy,
thus these words we will list,
so with us he won't toy.

He is our Overlord,
our Master, our king,
he leads us forward,
his praises we sing