A New Son of Sadow Rises...

Sepros
Sadow Temple

As dusk settled over Sepros, the suffocating heat of the day gave way at last. A cool night breeze rolled across the planet, carrying with it a quiet that felt… anticipatory.

Within the Summit chambers, preparations for the Clan’s next operation were already underway when an Urgent Action Message cut through the stillness of the secure network. DarkHawk intercepted it at the console. His eyes moved quickly across the contents, then slowed. The faintest hint of a smile broke through his otherwise composed expression.

Lord Keibatsu remained in deep meditation within his chamber. DarkHawk approached with measured steps. Before he could speak, the Proconsul’s voice pressed into his mind.

“You have news.”

“Good news,” DarkHawk replied. There was no need to present the message. Keibatsu had already drawn it from his thoughts, dissecting it in silence.

A pause.

“Excellent…”

DarkHawk inclined his head. “The Clan has been summoned. We gather in the courtyard.”

Sadow Temple
Courtyard

The twin moons loomed behind the Temple, casting long, distorted shadows across the courtyard. One by one, Sadowans assembled, some openly, others emerging from the darkness in silence, their forms cloaked and unreadable. From the grand staircase, the Summit descended. The Consul, Proconsul, and Magistrate, halting midway beneath the looming statues of Naga Sadow, Marka Ragnos, and Shar Dakhan.

DarkHawk stepped forward. “Sadowans,” his voice carried, cold and precise, “We stand at the edge of conquest. Every step forward demands more of us, tests our resolve, our loyalty, our strength.”

A pause. His gaze swept the gathered Clan. “Tonight… is not one of those trials. This is a moment of recognition. Of triumph.” He turned slightly. “One among you has been weighed. Measured. Proven.”

“Warlord Strask Rurra’nek… step forward.”

A ripple of confusion crossed Strask’s expression as he moved through the gathered ranks. Reaching the base of the stairs, he bowed before the Summit. A subtle gesture from Lord Keibatsu. The Force answered. Invisible pressure bore down, forcing Strask to one knee. It was not punishment, it was gravity. Expectation made manifest.

DarkHawk continued. “You stand before the Sons and Daughters of Sadow. Those who have sworn themselves wholly to this Clan, above all else. Your actions, your service, your loyalty… have been judged against the standards they uphold.”

His voice hardened. “We now ask, are you worthy to stand among them? Sons & Daughters of Sadow, do you concur? What say you” Silence hung heavy over the courtyard. Then…From the cloaked figures, a unified response thundered.

“I do.”

DarkHawk stepped aside. Lord Keibatsu advanced. His lightsaber floated from his belt into his hand, igniting with a violent snap-hiss. Purple light spilling across the stone. He lowered the blade over Strask’s right shoulder… then the left. The air crackled, heat pressing close, the energy alive and threatening. Strask did not move.

Lord Keibatsu’s voice followed, quiet, absolute.

“Then it is done.”

DarkHawk spoke again. “Warlord Strask Rurra’nek. In honor of those who came before us, the mark of Sadow is one of absolute devotion, beyond all other bonds. You are hereby named a Son of Sadow. With it comes duty. Burden. Legacy. Carry it well.”

Magistrate Bentre Stahoes stepped forward, drawing back his hood. With deliberate care, he placed the ceremonial robe over Strask’s armor. “You stand now as one of the chosen,” Bentre said, voice steady. “The embodiment of Naga Sadow’s will, the heir to its legacy.”

Around them, the cloaked figures moved as one. Hoods fell back. Blades ignited. A ring of crimson, violet, and gold light surged to life.

“For Sadow!”

The cry shook the courtyard. One by one, the gathered Sadowans bowed, not in submission, but in recognition. DarkHawk ignited his own blade, its glow cutting through the night.

“Rise… Son of Sadow.