THE DRAGON'S CLAW, PART I
--Ossus, twelve years ago--
Zarin Kal huffed as he got back to his feet, retrieving his lightsaber from the ground. Behind him, his sparring partner laughed as he twirled his twin blades.
"Come on, Zarin," Zin Jato said, flashing his trademark grin. "Surely Master Kil has taught you better than that."
Zarin glared at the Nautolan as he reignited his emerald blade. "Yes, but Master Kill never taught me how to use two blades."
"Didn't he?" Zin spun his blades again, an act which elicited giggles from some of the female spectators in their small audience. "Strange. You'd think someone who uses four blades would be a natural at it."
Zarin said nothing as he returned to his fighting stance. Master Solusar gave the word and the Jedi resumed sparring.
In the end, Zin proved to be the victor. Zarin had insisted that his opponent's use of Jar'Kai was unfair, but Solusar ignored his complaints, saying that it was useful practice; after all, one had to be prepared to face an opponent using any lightsaber style, whether it be dual wield or double-bladed.
Although he saw the Jedi Master's point, Zarin could not help but feel like his pride had been wounded. The words of encouragement from his peers had done little to cheer him up and he left the sparring arena defeated.
As he began to walk back to his living quarters, he was halted by the sound of sobbing. Stopping in his tracks, Zarin peered around the corner and saw a red-haired girl sitting against the wall, hugging her knees against her chest as she cried into them.
Zarin frowned. He recognized this girl: she was brought into the Jedi Order with other students last year and he had become acquainted with her over the past few months, helping the young girl feel welcome. In many ways he saw her as a younger sister and would comfort her whenever she needed it.
Walking up to her, Zarin said softly, "Natia? Are you all right?"
The girl lifted her head and met his brown eyes with tear-brimmed green ones. Sniffling, she murmured, "I'm fine."
"Natia," he admonished gently as he sat down next to her. "Come on. You can tell me."
Natia took in a shuddering breath as she looked at her feet, wiping the tears from her face. "It's stupid. You'll just laugh."
"I won't," Zarin said firmly.
She looked back up at him. "Promise?"
"Promise."
She was silent for a moment before looking back at her feet, struggling not to break down again. "She said no."
"Who said no?" Zarin asked.
"Sare. I... I asked her and... she told me that she didn't feel the same way that I...."
Her words caught in her throat and she buried her head again. Zarin patted her on the back.
"Hey, it's all right," he said gently. "Things like that happen. Stars, I've been rejected more than I can count. I've learned to just deal with it and move on."
"You've got it easy though," Natia muttered. "You're one of the most popular Jedi at the academy. I'm just the shy awkward red head."
"Me? Popular?" Zarin scoffed. "Right. Popular loser maybe." He glanced back at Natia, who continued to look downcast. Sighing, the Kiffar Jedi said, "Look, what I'm trying to say is that there are plenty of fish in the sea. Maybe Sare's just not 'the one' for you."
"But she is," Natia said quietly.
Zarin's brow furrowed. "Why do you say that?"
"Because...." She hesitated, biting her lip as she took a deep breath. "Because I dreamt that she was holding me in her arms."
"Uh..." Zarin scratched his head. "That's not really... I mean, dreams are just that: dreams. Fantasies. By nature, they're not real and not really indicative of the future or--"
"What about when I dreamt about Naia breaking her leg in a sparring match?" Natia interjected. "Or Master Nurn getting knocked over by Jaka? Or Master Narrakar catching Thann--"
"Okay, sometimes the Force can give one premonitions," Zarin said. "But that doesn't mean they always turn out true. Or that every dream is one."
"But...." Tears began to fill her eyes again. "But this one felt so real."
"Some dreams can be like that, even if they aren't visions." He wrapped an arm around her and held her close to him, patting her on the shoulder. "Best not to dwell too much on them, especially if they don't end up coming true."
--Now--
Seven robe-clad figures stood in the sand-blowing wind, staring at the fortress before them. Time had not been kind to it; most of its stone-made exterior had become cracked and derelict, and most of its spires had fallen from the strength of the wind. Whatever was left was now in ruins.
One of the figures, standing foremost with another, turned to their companions. "So this is it then?"
"Yes," the other breathed. "I'm amazed it's still standing."
As one, the group of seven entered the fortress, its entry doors having been knocked open by an unknown force. Once inside, safe from the winds, they all pulled back their hoods, looking around the fortress' interior with looks of awe and, in one particular case, distaste.
"Should we even be here?" asked one of the septet, a human woman. "It feels almost like... blasphemy."
"We are His marked disciples, Natia," said a chalk-skinned man, adorned with the same black tattoos as the rest. "That makes us free to enter any place shrouded by His Eternal Darkness."
"I still think you guys are a bunch of loons for believing--"
Another of the seven spun on his feet and ignited his lightsaber, pointing the scarlet blade at the man who had spoken out, yellow eyes ablaze.
"Don't you dare speak of His Darkness or His Disciples in such a manner every again," the red-skinned brute snarled. "Or I'll make sure you never leave this fortress alive, you accursed heretic."
Zarin Kal glared at the Sith but said nothing, his eyes almost daring him to proceed. Behind the brute, the white man approached and put a hand on his companion's shoulder.
"Let him be, Haarkon. He and his Jedi friend are not yet fully marked. In time they will come to see the proper way."
"Indeed," said a Twi'lek female, who was already heading deeper into the fortress with the others. "Perhaps this place shall open their eyes."
Haarkon continued to glare at Zarin before extinguishing his blade and following the rest of the pack. Zarin reluctantly followed suit, still weary of this place and his company.
Traveling further into the fortress, the seven Sith eventually came upon a large door, blocked by sand piled up at the base. The Twi'lek ran a hand over the rusted door, yellow eyes wide with wonder.
"This is it," she murmured. "He's beyond this door."
"Are you certain?" asked the white Nagai.
"Yes. I can feel him." Turning away from the door, the Twi'lek said, "Dravak, Haarkon, bring this door down."
She then stepped back, as did the others, while Haarkon and a male Devaronian stood before the door. The two Sith gathered all of their strength before unleashing it all in one Force expulsion, blasting the door open and blowing the sand away.
Moving into the now-opened chamber, the septet immediately found what they sought. A single casket laid in the center of the chamber, surrounded by lit pyres that still burned eternally. At once, five of the seven Sith got down onto one knee and bowed their heads. Natia quickly followed suit while Zarin remained standing, baffled by what was going on.
"On your knee, heretic," hissed a female Sith. "Or you'll forever burn in Chaos."
Feels like I already am, Zarin thought, although he mimicked the others anyway. A moment of silence passed before the Nagai Sith finally rose and stepped up to the casket.
"Taka zeech ma toka duuwaj," he hissed in the Sith tongue, prompting the casket to click. He then lifted up the unlocked lid, revealing the slumbering man within.
Gray hair covered an aged, pale-skinned face adorned with tattoos. As the man stirred, he opened his eyes; the right one glowed yellow with the dark side while the left one remained a natural blue color.
Slowly the man rose, staring at the bowed Sith in front of him. A devilish grin crossed the Nagai's featured as he inclined his head to the man.
"Hello, Darth Krayt. I trust you've had a good sleep?"
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