Canrain attempted to observe his work with a disinterested eye, but could not help the feelings of pride sweeping over him. Revered as one of the most accomplished Zuguruk, Canrain had designed and created some of the most iconic structures in Sith Space, but they paled in comparison to his latest work. Commissioned to create a temple honoring the Sith Lord Garu, Canrain had taken the garish Lord’s designs and combined them with the form and function of a meditation chamber capable of siphoning the Dark Side’s limitless power.
The temple’s center was the pinnacle of the structure’s design. Sith incantations lined the room’s walls, focusing gems imbued with Sith alchemy adorned walkways and intricate, ancient runes formed a circle at the center of the room. At the center of the circle was a small indentation that would receive the final consecration required to unlock the temple’s power.
A human barely within adulthood stood in the center of the circle. The boy stood quietly, hands clasped, and head tilted towards the sky. Standing nearby, the Sith Lord Garu chanted words unknown to those within the room before commanding, “You are my Temple!” A knife slashed the boy’s throat, blood poured from the wound and the ground shook with the violence of an earthquake. The runes etched into the temple’s walls flared crimson and pulsed with an unholy power.
Canrain could not help but smile. Years of work and attention to detail had culminated with the blood of an innocent. The Temple was much more than a burial tomb or structure. It was alive.
The Temple sensed the approaching Sith Lord long before his shuttle had touched down on the surface of the planet. The Sith Lord’s power billowed from his core and buffeted the Temple with insatiable desire. The Temple was the keeper of its knowledge, but would have no choice except to relinquish its secrets to the approaching Sith Lord. The Sith Lord was unhealthy, dangerous, and potentially mad, but his power was inescapable. The ancient structure had no choice.
“I can feel you, Temple,” the Sith Lord spat with disgust as he entered the Temple’s center chamber. “I have come for what is mine and you will give it me.”
The Temple felt revulsion towards its occupant and desired the Sith Lord’s removal from its chamber. It would comply with his wishes merely to expedite his departure. With an act of will, the Temple opened a small compartment within the center of the chamber, a glowing, runic device emerging to hover in place.
The Sith Lord walked to the holocron and grasped it in his hand. A blue color emanated from the device and bathed the Sith Lord and the room in its color. The Sith Lord’s eyes closed and his mind took in the holocron’s knowledge. The Temple could feel the transfer of knowledge and its runes pulsed as it too took in the holocron’s secrets. After days of silent immersion, the Sith Lord returned the holocron to its resting place and left the Temple.
Vitiate had what he had come for and the Temple was relieved to be free of his burden.
A thousand years had passed since Vitiate visited the Temple, but it could still remember the insatiable desire of the Sith Lord. The new visitors did not possess the same lust and greed, but their purpose was similar. The Temple thought of activating its protectors, but it would allow the new visitors to stay and discover what they were looking for. The Temple was amused by the relationship of its visitors and the deception between them.
The male was powerful, ambitious, and relentless in his pursuit of conquest. The female was equally powerful and ambitious, but her pursuit was power of the type not found in military conquest. She sought conquest of a more permanent solution. The male believed it was he who was in charge, but the Temple could sense the the truth. The female was the puppeteer and the male was simply the means to her ends.
The visitors stood in the sacrificial indentation within the center chamber. The Holocron that had once rested there had been removed hundreds of years prior by the self-loathing form of Freedon Nadd, but the Temple had consumed the holocron’s knowledge and was capable of granting it to those it found worthy. The man and woman lowered their hands to the circular runes on the chamber’s floor and the Temple provided them with the knowledge they sought.
The Temple pondered the visitors as they took in its knowledge; its thoughts eventually broken by the male visitor’s voice.
“Come Tiamat, we have what we need.”
Razor Nine attempted to observe the Temple of Garu with a disinterested eye, but could not keep the feelings of dread from overwhelming him. The subordinate units of the Dark Brotherhood had been tasked with the capture and recovery of Garu’s secrets, but only ruins remained. Reports indicated that House Taldyran planned the Temple’s destruction in an act of defiance against the Dark Council, but the Nephilim Commando doubted that possibility. Grand Master Cotelin had been grievously wounded and remained in a coma while multiple other Taldrya had been injured. Regardless, Grand Master Ashen and his advisors would be displeased.
The Nephilim’s limited Force powers could sense the lingering power that the temple had once held, but the sensation was diminishing with every passing moment. It would take beings of far greater power to divine the lost secrets here. Razor Nine had no inclination to be planetside when they arrived.
“Razor Main, this is Razor Nine. Request immediate exfil from Objective Garu.”
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