BIONICLE: A Fine Addition - A Dark Hunters Short Story

 A FINE ADDITION

“Bah. Another Pakari.”

The four-armed being threw the blue mask across the beach he stood on, letting it land somewhere in the sand. He cast a look of distaste at the dead Toa of Water laying at his feet, as if it was the corpse’s fault for not wearing a better mask.

“Seriously, what is the obsession with Pakaris? I’ve already got, like, at least three of each color. Earth types especially seem to like them. I swear I’ve seen at least two Onu-Matoran and even one Ba-Matoran wearing a purple Pakari.”

“You’re one to talk about obsessions, Collector,” said the other Dark Hunter standing beside him. Triglax pointed at the twin bandoliers made of Kanohi masks that wrapped around Collector’s spiked spines and crossed in an x-shape over his chest. “Seriously, how long did it take you to get all of those?”

“None of your business,” Collector snapped. He stepped over the Toa of Water’s body and trudged on ahead through the beach full of dead Toa. He stopped by the body of a Toa of Stone and bent down to look at it only to quickly straighten back up and resume his journey.

“Another Hau,” he muttered to himself. “Of course.”

Triglax sighed as he shook his head, walking after the four-armed Dark Hunter. Despite having known Collector for a long time, he had never quite gotten his partner’s obsession with Kanohi masks. As far as he knew, Collector’s species weren’t even capable of wearing masks, let alone using their powers. Yet he always carried his collection around with him everywhere he went; he wouldn’t even let Dark Hunters who were capable of using Kanohi take one from his bandolier if they were in the middle of a battle. It had earned him more than a couple of reprimands from the Shadowed One, especially when such refusals had cost the Dark Hunters valuable prizes. Those had done nothing to deter Collector from adding to his collection though, or at the very least digging through a grave of Toa in search of masks he didn’t yet own.

It was honestly quite disturbing, even for a Dark Hunter.

In fact, Triglax still didn’t have any idea why there even were this many dead Toa; from the looks of it, they had already been dead long before he and Collector had arrived at this remote island. All he knew was that there was a unique device of Xian design that the Shadowed One wanted his hands on hidden somewhere on this island. The leader of the Dark Hunters had said nothing about any Toa, alive or dead. Triglax wondered if the Shadowed One had even been aware of such Toa; it was strange that there even were this many on a remote, seemingly uninhabited island like this one.

The two Dark Hunters continued to walk along the beach until they came across a cave, where two more dead Toa laid at its entrance. After a brief exchange of glances, Triglax and Collector ventured into the cave, digging out lightstones from their satchels to illuminate their path. As they navigated their way through a maze of razor-sharp stalactites and stalagmites, Triglax started to pick up on what sounded suspiciously like someone sobbing. No sooner had he noticed this that he and Collector spotted the distinct shape of a Matoran up ahead in the distance, hunched over as they cradled their head in their hands.

Oh good grief, Triglax thought, rolling his eyes at the pathetic display. It’s gonna be one of those types of missions.

While he had no love for Matoran, Triglax had come to find himself feeling… exasperated with having to kill or injure Matoran that got in the way of missions. It was one thing if they were actively trying to get in the way of things, in which case he had no problem with ridding himself of them. But when they were innocent bystanders, he couldn’t help but take pity on them. He wasn’t sure why he had come to feel this way, and he didn’t dare bring it up to the Shadowed One or any of the other Dark Hunters lest they find him weak and eliminate him accordingly. Just for once, he wished to have a mission that didn’t involve any Matoran whatsoever, unless they were mutant Matoran that could be recruited into the Dark Hunters’ ranks.

As he and Collector closed in on the Matoran, Triglax realized they were an Onu-Matoran wearing a black Pakari. He wasn’t sure if Collector took masks from Matoran as well as Toa, but he was at least confident that Collector wouldn’t be bothering with this one, seeing as how they wore a mask that Collector had just complained about having too many of.

Upon noticing the arrival of the two Dark Hunters, the Matoran looked up at them with wide green eyes, holding up his hands defensively. “Please! Don’t hurt me!”

Triglax sighed. “Relax. We’re not going to hurt you. We’re just looking for something.”

He was thankful that he had chosen a form that closely resembled a gray-armored warrior, as the Onu-Matoran seemed to relax as he looked Triglax up and down. “Are you… are you a Toa?” he asked.

“Er, yeah. Sure. Of course. My name is Toa Triglax.” He gestured at Collector, who was a lot more fearsome in appearance and definitely could not pass off as a Toa. “This is my friend Four-Arms. Don’t worry, he won’t bite.”

The Matoran eyed the four-armed Dark Hunter carefully. “Why is he wearing all those masks?”

“Oh, those are mine,” Triglax said, which caused Collector to noticeably shift uncomfortably. “My Suva got destroyed, so I have to have someone carry around my masks for me. But Four-Arms here doesn’t mind. Right, Four-Arms?”

Collector responded with a hand gesture that was considered very rude on Stelt. Triglax ignored him.

“Anyways,” he said to the Matoran, “any idea what happened here? I saw all of those dead Toa outside and was wondering what had happened.”

“Oh, Great Spirit, it was awful,” the Matoran moaned, covering his face with his hands again. “I was accompanying these Toa on their adventures — I was supposed to be their Chronicler — when they came across this weapon invented by the Xians. One of them, a Toa of Fire, I don’t know, he just snapped and started killing the others. He left me stranded here and I have no idea where he is now.”

Triglax exchanged a look with Collector. “A Xian weapon, you say. Care to give us a description of this Toa? Maybe we can find him.”

“He wears red and gold armor,” said the Matoran. “Lots of armor, at that. He was probably the most heavily armored member of the team.”

“What kind of mask does he wear?” Collector asked. Triglax refrained from rolling his eyes; of course that would be the first thing on his partner’s mind.

“I believe it’s called a Kanohi Olmak,” the Matoran replied. “It’s not a mask I’m very familiar with. I believe it might be one of a kind.”

Triglax glanced at Collector, watching as the four-armed being’s blue eyes widened in shock. Doing his best to not show his exasperation, Triglax turned back to the Matoran and put on a fake smile.

“Thank you, villager. We will do our best to track down this Toa and bring him to justice. Do you need help returning to your fellow Matoran?”

“Actually, I think it might be best I stay here for now,” the Matoran said. “Just to be safe, you know; in case things go wrong or something.”

“Wise choice.” Triglax turned to leave, giving Collector a quick tap on the shoulder. “Come along, Four-Arms. Adventure awaits.”

It took the other Dark Hunter more than a couple of minutes to snap out of his reverie and follow Triglax out of the cave.

*  *  *

There was an old saying that Triglax had heard some time ago; something that went along the lines of “Where there’s smoke, there’s a Toa of Fire.”

Regardless of whether or not that was a paraphrase, he deemed it to be appropriate enough for the present moment. A column of smoke was rising in the distance, coming from a small village that laid several kios ahead. The two Dark Hunters picked up their pace as they headed in the direction of the smoke. Triglax was half-tempted to take a Mask of Speed from Collector’s bandolier but thought better of it, instead shifting into the form of an Energy Hound to allow himself to cover greater distances in a shorter amount of time.

Upon reaching the outskirts of the village, Triglax was greeted with the sight of several dead Matoran strewn all about, their bodies stained with scorch marks. Also scattered around the village were burnt suits of armor colored in tan and blue, though Triglax could not make out what they were. All that remained of the Matoran’s homes were burning husks of wood and stone. It was as if the entire settlement had been consumed by an uncontrollable inferno… which, given what they were dealing with, probably was the case.

As Collector finally caught up with him, Triglax slowly stalked his way through the macabre scene, scanning for any sign of their Toa quarry. The air was choked with the smell of smoke, which only grew worse as Triglax moved deeper into the villager.

It was at the center of the village that he finally found what he sought.

Clad in the red and gold armor that the Matoran had described, the Toa of Fire sat upon a large piece of debris, hunched over as he cradled his head in his hands. Triglax had never seen a Kanohi Olmak before, so he could only assume that the wide golden mask with sharp edges adorning his face was the mask in question. He was sure Collector would be able to tell, but he wasn’t in the mood of asking him.

The Toa had yet to notice him, giving Triglax the chance to shift back into his “fake Toa” form before they looked up. The Toa of Fire continued to look down even as Triglax approached him and cleared his throat to make his presence known.

“Excuse me,” the Dark Hunter said.

The Toa of Fire slowly lifted his head out of his hands, peering at the gray “Toa” through the narrow slits of his mask. His green eyes had a hollow and haunted look to them, as if he had just been forced to live through his worst nightmare… and was perhaps still living it.

“Who are you?” he asked, his voice coming out in a croak.

“My name is not important,” Triglax replied. “What is important is the crime that I hear you have committed.”

The Toa released a harsh cough from his lungs. “What are you… talking about?”

“I think you know.” Triglax gestured to the grave of Matoran surrounding them. “When I arrived on this island, I wasn’t expecting to find so many dead Matoran… not to mention those dead Toa on the beach.”

“That… wasn’t me,” the Toa coughed again. “I didn’t do any of those things. I’ve been set up. Framed.”

“A likely story. One I would love to believe.” Triglax tapped his face, which he had morphed to look like a mask. “But my Mask of Mind Reading tells me otherwise. Admit the truth, brother, or face the consequences.”

The Toa of Fire narrowed his eyes. “This is another trick, isn’t it? Another illusion. I’m not falling for it. Not this time.”

“There’s no need for a confrontation, brother. I’m sure this can be settled—”

“You’re no brother of mine.”

The Toa’s mask glowed and the ground opened up beneath Triglax’s feet. Before the Dark Hunter knew it, he was falling through the portal and plummeting towards his certain (and messy) demise….

*  *  *

Collector watched as Triglax got sucked into the ground. He could barely bring himself to care as his eyes were still focused on the mask adorning the Toa of Fire’s face.

As the portal closed, the Toa slumped back down onto the debris he was sitting on before lifting his gaze towards Collector. His eyes roved over the Dark Hunter’s body, no doubt noticing the chains of masks that were wrapped around it.

“Nice collection,” the Toa muttered. “How many did you kill to get all of those?”

“Not enough,” Collector growled. “I’m still missing some powers and a lot of colors. Your dead friends on the beach didn’t have anything good.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” the Toa said bitterly. “Maybe I can drop you into an alternate universe where you can have all the masks and colors you want.”

“No thanks. That would be a cheap cop-out. I’d rather finish my collection in this universe before starting one in another. Besides, I would have to compete with my other self in that universe.”

“Fair enough. Of course, you can’t complete your collection without the mask I’m wearing, can you?”

Collector shook his head. “Is it one of a kind?”

“One of two, actually. It was generously gifted to me long ago, in a time I barely remember anymore.”

The Toa looked down at his hand. He snapped two fingers together and a tiny flame burst out from one of them. It flickered for a second before going out entirely, leaving behind a wisp of smoke.

“I helped save the universe with this mask, you know,” he continued. “Have you ever heard of the Toa Valmai?”

Again, Collector shook his head.

“I’ll grant you, it was a long time ago. The Great Spirit was sick and the universe was dying. There was a place — the World that feeds the World, they called it — that we could only get to through my mask. The people who gave us our mission were pretty vague about the whole thing. I’m not sure even Jovan understood what was going on half the time.”

The Toa paused to look at Collector.

“You don’t care, do you?”

“Not really.” The Dark Hunter drew swords in each of his four hands. “I’m just here for your mask.”

The Toa sighed. “Of course you are. Do you really have to kill me, though?”

“Why wouldn’t I? It’s not like you’re just going to give it to me.”

“Maybe I will. You haven’t asked for it yet.”

This gave Collector pause, though he quickly shook himself out of it. “Nah. You’re just trying to stall.”

The Toa shrugged. “It was worth a shot.”

His mask glowed again and Collector stepped right into the portal that materialized beneath his feet. After he fell through and the portal closed, the Toa let out a sigh which quickly turned into another coughing fit.

“They never learn….”

*  *  *

Not for the first time in his life, Triglax thanked the Great Beings for giving him shape-shifting powers. After realizing that the Toa had teleported him into the sky, he had quickly changed shape into a Gukko bird and flapped his wings to make his descent through the air a slow and steady one. He then darted back down towards the island, setting his sights on the charred village.

As he drew closer, he saw that Collector was still standing in front of the Toa, all four of his blades drawn. Triglax was about to wonder why his fellow Dark Hunter hadn’t received the same treatment as he had when the Toa created a new portal and Collector stupidly stepped into it. No doubt he had been too focused on the Toa’s mask to even think about avoiding that trick.

Just as he had predicted before even starting this mission, it was up to Triglax to finish the job.

Folding his wings back, Triglax dove towards the Toa nose-first. The Toa of Fire looked up just as the shape-shifted Gukko collided into him, knocking his mask off and sending him falling to the ground. Triglax then shifted into a large, one-eyed beast as he grabbed the Toa and pinned him to the ground.

“No more games, Toa,” Triglax snarled. “Hand over the weapon.”

“Weapon?” The Toa coughed, sounding even more weak now that he had been deprived of his Kanohi. “What are you talking about?”

“Don’t toy with me! The Xian weapon you used to kill those other Toa.”

“I… I already told you: That wasn’t me. I was framed. He… he was the one who used the weapon—”

“I don’t care who used it!” Triglax snapped, pushing the Toa deeper into the ground. “Just tell me where it is and then I’ll be done with you!”

The Toa opened his mouth but it was only to gasp for air. Growling in frustration, Triglax lifted himself off of the Toa before throwing his fist down into the red and gold warrior. There was a sickening crunch and the Toa did not move or speak again.

After taking a moment to compose himself, Triglax turned to look for the mask the Toa had been wearing. If he failed to find the Xian weapon, then perhaps the Shadowed One would accept a rare Kanohi as compensation. It would at least be better than returning to Odina empty handed.

However, when he looked, the Kanohi Olmak was nowhere to be seen. Perhaps the force of his collision with the Toa had been enough to send it flying into the grave of dead Matoran that laid nearby. Since he was in no mood to dig through a bunch of corpses for a stupid mask, he decided to forget the matter entirely and instead focus on what he had came here for.

If Collector ever returned from whatever dimension the Toa had sent him to, he was more than welcome to have it.

*  *  *

When Triglax returned to the cave that he and Collector had found the Onu-Matoran in, the Xian weapon that the Toa of Fire had allegedly possessed was already waiting for him at the mouth of the cave. The Dark Hunter was no doubt befuddled by this, given everything he had been told and had just went through, but did not voice any of the dozen questions he was surely asking himself. Without a word, he took the weapon and made a swift departure from the island, leaving its mysteries far behind.

Once Triglax was gone, the Onu-Matoran within the cave emerged from his hiding spot and morphed into his true form before taking to the sky, making his way towards the desolate village. Upon his arrival, he was greeted with the sight of the many dead Matoran that Toa Sidrona had killed in his madness. From the Toa’s perspective, the Matoran had been nightmarish creatures that he was forced to kill with an all-consuming inferno that had exhausted most of his elemental energy, leaving him vulnerable to his Dark Hunter attackers. It was only after the massacre that the illusion had worn off and Toa Sidrona realized what he had done.

The power of illusion was a great thing. Especially when one had a few Rahkshi of Illusion scattered around the village to help maintain that illusion.

Walking past the burnt tan and blue husks that had once been those Rahkshi, he arrived at the resting place of Toa Sidrona himself. The Toa of Fire had been practically embedded into the ground and his mask torn from his face. However, after spending a good couple of hours scouring the burnt village, the Kanohi Olmak itself was nowhere to be found.

Makuta Tridax frowned. He had been watching the Dark Hunter Triglax closely enough when he had taken the Xian weapon to know that the mask had not been in his possession. His mask-collecting partner was also nowhere to be seen, leaving Tridax to assume that the four-armed Hunter was either dead or had been dealt with by Sidrona. Additionally, Tridax was pretty certain that Collector’s species was incapable of using mask powers, meaning that he couldn’t have used the Olmak to teleport himself away.

The Makuta of Nynrah cursed to himself. He had been pleased with himself for arranging all of this; he had lured Toa Sidrona and his team to this island, using the Xian weapon to kill most of Sidrona’s teammates. The Toa of Fire had then used his mask to travel to the local settlement and warn the villagers there of what had happened. Not wanting word of his actions to spread, Tridax had sent his Rahkshi of Illusion to keep Sidrona and the Matoran “busy” before summoning the Dark Hunters here to finish the job, all while keeping his direct involvement a secret. While he had succeeded in covering his tracks, he had ultimately failed to retrieve the very item that had been the reasoning behind everything he had done since setting foot on this accursed island.

Filled with anger and shame, Makuta Tridax spread his wings and took for the sky, leaving his failures far behind. 

EPILOGUE

Elsewhere

“I always did think we should have taken this mask back after he and his team had fulfilled their destiny,” said Toa Helryx as the Kanohi Olmak once worn by Toa Sidrona was locked away in a vault deep within the Daxia Fortress. “To be honest, I’m surprised it took this long for a Toa of Fire like him to lose control.”

“Indeed,” said Botar, the agent who had delivered the mask to her. “However, I have the suspicion that someone else was behind him ‘losing control,’ perhaps for the purpose of acquiring his mask.”

“In any case, it is for the best that we keep it here for safe keeping,” Helryx said. “Mata Nui knows what a being with ill-intentions would be capable of doing with a mask such as this one.”

“Let us pray that we never find out.”

Another place and time entirely

Collector breathed heavily as he rummaged through the pool of Kanohi masks. He dug deep into the infinite pile and grabbed onto a mask, feeling it with his fingers. Its sharp edges did not call any familiar shapes to mind and he eagerly pulled it out to see what kind of mask it was.

It was another Pakari. A white one this time.

He tossed the mask aside and dug again. He grabbed a mask that felt very round and smooth. Perhaps it was a Hau, or even a Rau. He already had plenty of those, but he was also missing a few colors.

He drew out his arm and saw that it was an orange Pakari.

He dug some more and pulled out more Pakaris. A purple one, a red one, another purple one, a brown one. Every single mask he pulled out was a Pakari.

In fact, he only just now realized that all of the masks in the infinite sea of Kanohi he had found himself in… were Pakaris.

Every. Last. One.

No one was around to hear the Dark Hunter as he released his rage in one loud, deafening scream.

Star Wars: Desolation

 DESOLATION: THE FALL OF DARTH DESOLOUS

Twelve Jedi stood on the desolate ground of Yaga Minor, lightsabers drawn, as the world burned all around them.

Above them, Republic ships engaged in combat against Pau’an vessels, lighting the night-sky with laserfire. The plan had worked exactly as Master Vissola said it would, having coordinated with Admiral Huvick to set up the trap for the Dark Lord of the Sith and his army. Surrounded by Republic capital ships coming from all the charted hyperlanes leading to the Yaga Minor system, there was no place for his minions to run. They had been cornered. Boxed in.

Surrounding the twelve Jedi and their singular foe were the bodies of their fellow Knights and their enemy warriors. None of the Jedi still standing had taken any pleasure in taking the lives of the Pau’an warriors they had been forced to killed, having been left with no choice by the situation they had been placed in.

Their foe, on the other hand, derived great pleasure from every single Jedi he had killed and would take even more from those he had yet to kill.

Darth Desolous stood before the twelve Masters of the Jedi High Council, holding his crimson lightsaber blade in one hand and hefting a heavily dented shield with the other. A cruel, mirthless grin split across his lined face, revealing rows of sharpened teeth. His black eyes were blotched with red, an aftereffect of the dark side’s hold on him.

None of the Jedi spoke to him or even made an attempt to sway him away from the path he was already set on. They all knew that he was too far gone.

Just as with his followers in the sky, there was no turning back for him now. It would all come to an end, here and now.

They waited for him to make the first move, to make the first mistake. His booted feet scraped against the dirt as he crouched down into a battle stance, raising his shield to cover his body.

Silence reigned over the scene, save for the low hum of the thirteen ignited lightsabers and the sound of turbolaser fire above them.

Jedi Master Hahkann made the first mistake. He charged towards Darth Desolous, lightsaber blade raised high as he released a guttural roar from the depths of his throat. All of the rage that he had pent up inside him had boiled over; witnessing his apprentice falling to his former master’s blade had been the breaking point.

The Dowutin Jedi brought his blade down and Desolous blocked it with his shield. Harsh laughter rang out from the Sith Lord’s mouth.

“I have taught you well, my young Padawan.”

The words sparked something in Hahkann and he raised his lightsaber for another attack. Then, an invisible hand seized and threw him to the side, just as Darth Desolous swung his own lightsaber.

“Don’t let your emotions cloud your vision,” roared Grand Master Axon Roden, his green three-fingered hand still outstretched as he held his blue lightsaber with the other. “You are giving him exactly what he wants!”

“It would be a first,” said Darth Desolous, repositioning him back into his battle stance. “Had you done so in the first place, none of us would even be here.”

“No,” rumbled Master Tolada Boor. The ancient Ithorian woman held her yellow blade in both her hands, looking tired and weak. “We would have ended up in an even worse place. The galaxy would be suffering the tyranny of the Sith once more, just as it had less than two centuries ago.”

Darth Desolous sneered. “Of course you would know, you old hag. Shouldn’t you be in your library, ‘Master Bore?’ I think you’re a bit too old to be out here fighting.”

“Enough,” barked Master Roden, pointing his azure blade at the Sith Lord. “This ends here, Dion. Whether with your death or surrender, it ends here.”

“Just ‘Dion?’” Desolous snapped. “Not even a ‘Master Sazon?’ Surely I deserve that much.”

“You deserve nothing,” hissed Master Vinthec through his breathing apparatus. “Especially not after all of the Jedi you have killed.”

The Dark Lord laughed. “Still salty over your mate’s death, are we? Don’t worry; I’ll help you join him in the Force.”

He extended his shield-mounted arm and called upon the dark side of the Force. Vinthec let out a grunt as an invisible fist wrapped around him in a tight, vise-like grip. Before any of the other Jedi could save their brother, Darth Desolous pulled the Tognath towards him and ran his crimson blade straight through his chest, laughing as he did so.

This was the mistake the Jedi had been waiting for.

As one, the remaining eleven Masters charged towards Vinthec’s murderer, even as the Dark Lord tossed the Tognath’s body aside as if it was nothing. Blue, green, yellow, and purple blades crashed onto crimson as the Jedi fought to avenge their fallen brothers and sisters.

Master Tolada Boorr was the next to fall. Violet lightning coursed through her body as Darth Desolous released his bottled rage. She had been the first to refuse him access to the forbidden secrets of the Jedi Archives, even after he had attained the rank of master.

As the Ithorian Jedi’s body crumpled to the floor, Master Caario was the next to act. It only made sense, as he had once been Boorr’s apprentice and had always been close to her. It only took a few seconds for him to be deprived of his lightsaber blade before receiving one to the chest.

Master Roden was the first to deal a blow against the Lord of the Sith. When Darth Desolous raised his shield arm, the shoehorn-headed Vurk saw an opening and drove his blade into the Pau’an exposed shoulder. As the Sith Lord howled in pain, Master Berkuss moved in to slash at his legs. Desolous moved out of the way before he could deliver the blow and proceeded to drop the shield onto the Gand’s head. Berkuss dropped to the ground and did not move again.

“Your efforts are futile!” Darth Desolous bellowed. “A thousand Jedi have already fallen cursing my name! You will soon do the same!”

“Dion, stop this. Please.” Master Ona Lesim deactivated all four of her blades. Disapproval rippled from the other Jedi through the Force, but she paid it no heed. She stared at the man who had once been her Padawan, sadness creasing her simian face. “This isn’t the brave man I once knew; the one I taught; the one I saw as like a son. What happened to him, Dion? What happened to the Jedi Knight I once knew?”

“He died,” Darth Desolous spat. “He died and was reborn!”

The Force made his shoulder wound pointless as he grabbed his former master by the neck without even touching her. With a simple twist of the wrist, the Ardennian’s neck snapped and her body dropped to the ground like dead weight. Master Roden released an anguished cry as he lunged at the Sith Lord, blade raised high.

Darth Desolous saw an opening and took it. With his one good arm, he swung his lightsaber blade at the Grand Master and carved a deep slash across the Vurk’s chest.

Axon Roden fell, and then there were six. The remaining Jedi Masters formed a circle around the Sith Lord. Hahkann, back on his feet, took point with Master Kotu Vissola on the left; to the right was the seer Niira Baelar and the healer Grulah Lanami. Finally, taking center were Master Jodon Starbreaker, Hero of Halmad, and Master Mela Seibb, Savior of Sullust.

Above them, the sky had gone quiet. The Battle of Yaga Minor was already over. The Army of Desolation had been defeated.

Yet, still, its leader laughed.

“Look at how far you have already fallen,” Darth Desolous jeered. “I can sense the hatred you feel towards me; the anger. Surely you realize by now that only by embracing the dark side can you seek to achieve that which you desire.”

“A true Jedi desires nothing but peace,” said Master Seibb. “Surely you realize that by now.”

He sneered at her. “Even when facing death itself, you still spout your filthy Jedi lies. Stubborn and persistent to the end.”

He raised his crimson blade one last time. Despite his injury, despite exhaustion threatening to consume him, his eyes still burned with the ferocity of a warrior.

“I suppose,” he muttered, “we have that much in common.”

He pointed his blade at Starbreaker and Seibb… then, reaching out with his injured arm, he seized Master Vissola with the Force and started to drag her towards him. The blue-skinned woman’s eyes lit up with fear as she struggled against the Sith Lord’s invisible grip but to no avail. Lightning crackled at Desolous’ fingertips as he prepared to—

“NO!” Master Baelar launched herself forward, her violet blade raised above her head. Darth Desolous turned to face her, contempt plastered on his face.

It was the last mistake he would make.

The energy blade cut into his chest, pierced through his heart, and came out through his back. Darth Desolous let out a gasp; whether out of surprise at being killed or at the identity of the one to deliver the killing blow, the galaxy would never know.

Baelar retracted her blade and Darth Desolous, once the Jedi Master Dion Sazon, fell onto the ground, joining the bodies of his soldiers and victims. The hilt of the blade that had killed him fell from its user’s hands, landing beside his head.

Six Jedi stood on the desolate ground of Yaga Minor, faces stained with sweat, dirt, blood, and tears, as the world went silent all around them.

Star Wars: Vergence II, Chapter Three

 CHAPTER THREE

Jakku

“See that Mon Cal Star Cruiser over there? Pretty sure that’s the Freedom’s Dawn. I saw it go down right after I made a crash-landing.”

“Thank you, Snap. I forgot you were an old man,” said Jessika Pava, sitting in the pilot’s seat of the landspeeder as it drove along the edge of the Kelvin Ravine. The crashed wreckage of starships, ranging from Mon Cal cruisers to Imperial Star Destroyers, marked the desert’s landscape, serving as a permanent reminder to the disastrous battle that took place here before she was even born.

Sitting next to her in the passenger seat, Snap Wexley gave her a look. “’Old man,’ huh? Bet you call Wedge that too.”

“Not to his face,” Jessika said. “I have too much respect for him than to do that.”

“Oh, but not for me?” Despite the mock indignation in his tone, there was a gleam of amusement in Snap’s eyes. “Thanks, Testor. Glad to know where I stand with you.”

The pair continued to ride their landspeeder across the mesa on which the village of Tuanul was said to be located. Ahead of them were two other speeders carrying their teammates; in one sat Commander Poe Dameron, the ex-stormtrooper known as Finn, and Jedi Master Nira Maren, while the other carried the Jedi Toah Jarsan and Rey, the latter who had apparently lived on Jakku for all her live. Jessika couldn’t imagine what that could have been like, living on such a harsh desert world. Then again, she herself had spent most of her childhood as a slave to the Hutts. When it came to harsh upbringings, Jessika was no stranger to it.

Before long, the village of Tuanul came into view. Comprised of huts made out of wattle and daub, it looked very much like a ghost town. There was no indication that anyone lived here, yet the huts looked as if they were being regularly maintained. Upon parking the landspeeder close to the edge of the village, Jessika was able to make out burn marks on some of the huts, showing that there had been a struggle here at some point.

“Is this the right place, Finn?” Poe Dameron asked as he climbed out of his landspeeder.

“Yes,” Finn replied, stepping out along with Nira Maren. “Yeah, this is the place. This is right where the villagers were rounded up and… yeah.”

Toah Jarsan stepped towards one of the burnt huts and carefully ran his hand over it. Jessika had no idea what he was doing, though she figured it was some Jedi-related skill that he was performing. She glanced over at Rey and saw that the other woman shared her look of confusion.

After a moment, Toah finally spoke. “Someone’s here. I can sense them.”

“So do I,” said Nira Maren. The green-skinned Mirialan Jedi carefully stepped towards one of the huts, which was the only one that had a large metal plate — likely taken from one of the crashed starships — serving as a door. She stood in front of the hut for a few seconds before giving the door a light knock. Jessika’s hand drifted towards her holstered blaster, bracing herself for the worst. Snap and the others did the same, ready to draw a blaster or lightsaber at any moment.

The door finally creaked open and the long, tan-skinned face of a sapient with tiny black eyes and dangling mouth tendrils poked out. Upon seeing Nira, the Abednedo pulled the door further open and stepped out, arms outstretched wide.

“Nira! By the stars!” He pulled the Mirialan woman into a strong embrace, which she promptly returned. “It has been so long.”

“That it has, Father Chek,” Nira replied. She pulled away from the hug and nodded to the others, who all relaxed. “I am glad to see you are still doing well, especially after what happened to the others.”

A shadow fell over Chek’s face. “Ah. So you know about that.”

“Only just recently.” Nira frowned at the priest. “Why didn’t you tell me? You contacted me just a week ago and didn’t say anything.”

“Because I didn’t know about it myself,” said Chek. “I was on a sabbatical when the massacre happened, traveling to other worlds that once had ties to the Church of the Force. I had just left Christophsis when I contacted you and returned to Jakku only to find everyone I knew dead. Some of the bodies had already been picked at by scavengers. I buried what… whatever was left.”

Tears started to well up in Chek’s eyes. Nira placed a hand on his arm.

“I am so sorry,” she said quietly. “No one should ever have to live through that.”

As the Jedi comforted the Abednedo, Jessika glanced over at Finn. The ex-stormtrooper was shifting uncomfortably, looking down at his feet as he drew lines in the sand with the toe of his boot.

After a moment of mournful silence, Chek cleared his throat and spoke up again. “Where are my manners? I don’t believe I’ve properly introduced myself to your friends. My name is Chek Urhed, priest of the Church of the Force… or what’s left of it, in any case.”

Nira gestured to her companions. “This is my fellow Jedi Toah Jarsan and his apprentice Rey. The others are Poe Dameron, Snap Wexley, Jessika Pava, and Finn.”

“Well met,” Chek said. “Please, why don’t you come in. I have already made some tea.”

“You made tea?” asked Poe. “On a desert planet?”

“It’s not as hard as you might think,” said Rey. “Trust me, I’ve lived here all my life.”

Chek’s eyes drifted over to her. “You are from Jakku?”

She nodded. “Yes. I used to work as a scavenger for Unkar Plutt from Niima Outpost.”

“Unkar Plutt, you say.” Chek stroked the tendrils dangling from his face. “Interesting. Best you all come inside, then. I’m sure we have much to discuss.”

Niima Outpost

“For the last time, I don’t have it yet! My scavengers are still—”

“Tell your scavengers to work faster then, Plutt. My patience is wearing thin.”

Unkar Plutt slammed a large fist down onto his desk, causing everything on it to shake or fall over. “You don’t understand,” he hissed into his comlink. “You are asking for the impossible. Jakku is a desert world. Every square inch of the planet is nothing but sand. This old man could have buried his map anywhere on the damn planet! It could take months, years, even decades to scour it!”

“Then you had better stop wasting my time and get back to work, or else you’ll be doing this forever.”

Unkar Plutt uttered a low growl from his throat. “Perhaps if you would get off your own blasted end and actually do something yourself, then maybe—”

“If this job is too stressful for you, then I will gladly find someone else to do it for me. In the meantime, you can enjoy the Hutts paying you a visit for that six-digit debt you owe them.”

“No!” Unkar Plutt groaned as he slumped down into his seat, pinching his wide nose between his pudgy fingers. “Please, don’t…. I’ll have my people step up their game, okay? I’ll get that map for you. Just… just relax.”

“I’ll relax when that map is in my hands. Do not disappoint me, Crolute. This is your last warning.”

The call was cut off on the other end before Unkar Plutt had a chance to speak. The large Crolute let out a harsh curse as he pounded his desk again. With each call he received from his employer, the more he started to regret making a deal with them in the first place. He didn’t know how they knew him or how they knew about the huge debt he owed to the Hutts; they didn’t seem to be directly affiliated with the Hutts as they often spoke of some superior power that had nothing to do with the crime lords. In any case, they had offered to help Unkar pay off that debt in exchange for some map, which Unkar had thought would have been simple enough.

Instead, it had been anything but.

After taking a few minutes to calm himself, Unkar reached again for his comlink and hailed the leader of his thugs, whom he had put in charge of all the scavengers to make sure they found this map. If screaming insults and threatening bodily harm was going to be what it took to get his people moving, then he was going to gladly do just that. 

Otherwise, heads were going to roll before the Hutts got his.

Tuanul

Chek Urhed’s abode was not much more than a small room, with a table in the center, a few chairs, and a cot just off to the side. With only four chairs to spare, Toah Jarsan, Nira Maren, and Poe Dameron sat at the table with Chek while everyone else stood, holding their small cups of tea.

After taking a sip from his own cup, Chek set it down and looked over to Nira. “So, how do you know about the map?”

“We have our sources,” Poe said vaguely. No one had brought up Finn and how he had been present for the attack on Tuanul, lest it cause Chek to distrust them. “We know that the ones responsible for Lor San Tekka’s death are looking for it, though he told them that it had been destroyed.”

Chek shook his head. “Not destroyed. He could never bring himself to do something so extreme, even if the fate of the galaxy depended on it. He most likely buried either it somewhere on the planet or entrusted it with someone who could take it offworld.”

“Do you know of anyone who could have taken it for him?” asked Toah.

Chek thought for a moment. “The few I can think of were already among the dead when I returned here,” he murmured. “Besides, I’m still not sure there was anyone in the Church that Lor could have trusted enough to place something like that in their care.”

“So he buried it then,” said Poe. “Here on Jakku.”

“Most likely,” the Abednedo said with a nod.

“Great,” muttered Snap. “I’m sure that’ll be a fun little search.”

“He must have buried it in a spot that would be easy for him to get too,” said Rey. “You can rule out the Sinking Fields, because then the map surely would have been destroyed or, at least, there would have been no way of getting it back on the off chance that he needed it.”

Chek tilted his head to look at her. “What about the rest of the Goazon Badlands? An endless field of sand would be a perfect place to bury something you don’t want anyone to find.”

Rey looked doubtful. “Still, the Teedo scavengers roam those parts and they have eyes like vultures. Even the slightest gleam in the sand will catch their attention. Failing that, then their luggabeasts will sniff something out.”

“So where does that leave us?” asked Poe. “I mean, it would be awfully convenient if Lor San Tekka buried the map right here in the village. Seriously, if that turns out to be the case then I’m going to be really mad.”

A smile twitched onto Chek’s face. “Knowing Lor as well as I do, I can see him doing exactly that.”

“Well, it’s a good place to start as any, since we’re right here,” said Finn. “Shall we get started?”

Before anyone could respond, the shrieking sound of metal banging against metal blared from outside. Everyone at the table quickly stood up while Rey quickly made it for the door, pushing it open to look outside.

“Oh no,” she muttered. “No, no, no.”

“What is it?” asked Toah.

“It’s Bar'derro’s gang. They’re coming here.”

“Someone you know?” questioned Jessika.

“Someone I wish I didn’t know,” Rey replied. “He works for Unkar Plutt, practically commands his group of thugs. They constantly harass scavengers for their wares and bully them into giving more to Unkar than what they owe.”

“Were you one of these scavengers?” asked Chek.

“Yes, I was.”

The Abednedo stroked his beard. “Interesting.”

Snap clamped his hands over his ears. “What I don’t find interesting is that noise they’re making. Are they driving crappy speeders or something?”

“No,” Rey said. “That would be their ‘music.’ Wreckpunk, I believe it’s called.”

“They must want us to know they’re coming,” said Finn. “What should we do?”

“Let’s hide and take cover in the other huts,” said Poe. “We’ll wait to see what they’re here for before doing anything rash.”

“That’s surprising, coming from you,” said Jessika.

“After that business on Corellia and Ord Mantell, I’m not really in the mood to deal with crazy pirates and thugs at the moment.”

“I’ll stay out here to greet them,” said Chek.

Everyone gave him an incredulous look.

“Um, why?” Snap asked.

“In case they start searching the huts, I need to make sure they don’t find you,” said the Abednedo priest. “Besides, I’ve dealt with riffraff like them before. They shouldn’t pose too much of a problem.”

Rey shook her head. “Bar’derro and his cronies aren’t ordinary ‘riffraff.’ They’re savages, just like the rest of Unkar’s thugs.”

“Then it is fortunate that you and your friends have come.” Chek then motioned her and the others to the huts. “Quickly. They’ll be here any moment.”

Without much hesitation, the Jedi and their Resistance allies split up and retreated into the abandoned huts of the Tuanul village. Chek Urhed stepped down from the steps leading into his abode just as an entourage of swoop bikes and landspeeders appeared on the horizon, coming from the direction of the Goazon Badlands. Their wreckpunk music became louder and louder as they drew closer, drowning out the roars of their vehicles’ engines. Chek calmly sipped from his cup of tea as the landspeeder in the lead made a sharp turn and drifted to a stop. Sitting in the passenger seat was a humanoid male wearing a mismatch of scavenger garbs and plates of metal serving as armor. The pair of antennapalps protruding from his scalp identified the man as a member of the Balosar species. Sitting in the driver’s seat next to him was a Kalleran, distinguished by their finned head and green skin.

Swinging his legs out over the edge of the speeder as he jumped out, the Balosar made swift, sure steps towards Chek, a nasty scowl plastered on his gaunt face.

“I suggest you get lost, old man. This is our territory now.”

Chek Urhed inclined his head to him. “Bar’derro, I presume?”

“What’s it to you?” the Balosar snapped. “Ya’ gotta problem with me, pal?”

“Not at all,” Chek said calmly, sipping his tea. “I’ve only just met you. We could end up becoming very good friends.”

Bar’derro sneered as he jabbed a finger into Chek’s chest. “You’re no friend of mine, old man. You’re on our turf and need to get outta here before we throw you into the Sinking Fields.”

“I was not aware this was your ‘turf.’ I’ve been living here for several days now and have never seen you before.”

“That’s ‘cos our turf is any place we set foot in. If we’re here, it means its ours now. Simple as that.”

“’Simple.’” Chek took another sip of tea. “If only life was truly like that.”

“Alright, I’m already sick of you.” Bar’derro turned to his Kalleran companion. “Slatero! Help me move…. Slatero? SLATERO! TURN OFF YOUR BLASTED MUSIC AND GET YOUR ASS OUT HERE!”

The Kalleran glared at him as he turned down the blaring wreckpunk music before climbing out of the speeder. At the same time, a pair of Kessurians — one male, one female — dismounted their swoop bikes and walked over to join Bar’derro and Slatero, blasters already drawn.

“You heard the boss,” snapped the female Kessurian, jabbing Chek with the barrel of her pistol. “Get lost!”

“Actually, I know my way on this planet quite well,” the priest replied. “I could probably find my way to Niima Outpost with my eyes closed.”

“Do that then,” said Slatero. “And the sooner, the better.”

“Ah, let’s just kill him, Bar’derro,” said the male Kessurian. “No one’s gonna miss him or anythin’.”

“Oh, I very much beg to differ,” Chek said. “I know a few people who would very much notice my absence.”

Bar’derro drew his own blaster, pressing it against the Abednedo’s chin. “Wanna test that theory?”

From all around them, the sound of lightsabers activating and blasters being drawn filled the air. Bar’derro and his cronies tore their attention away from Chek as Toah, Nira, and the others emerged from their hiding spots.

“You may try,” Chek said to Bar’derro. “But I don’t think it will end well for you.” 

Star Wars: Vergence II, Chapter Two

 CHAPTER TWO

Serenno

“Have you heard the news? The Dowager of Sedratis is dead.”

Count Tyr Valmar glanced up from his glass of jhantorian wine. “Is that right?” he said after taking a sip. “Where did you hear this?”

“From Valera. Her daughter.” The Count of House Malvern took a sip from his own glass, staring out the window at the city of Carannia, Serenno’s sparkling capital. The Funeral Moon of Mantero glowed in the nighttime sky.

“Isn’t she a relative of your wife’s?” Count Malvern asked after a moment’s pause. “Valera, that is?”

Valmar’s face briefly twitched into a scowl. “She’s the daughter of a cousin, I believe,” he muttered, taking another sip. “Calran Teramo, son of Lecron.”

“Calran, yes, that’s right. I remember seeing him with a blond woman at the court one time, back when your father was Count. I don’t believe they were married for very long before his death, were they?”

Valmar shrugged. “To be honest, I never really paid much attention to his affairs. His father was never head of House Teramo; that honor went to Valdar.”

Malvern smirked. “Of course. You had eyes on his daughter because he was the one with all of the wealth and prestige. If Lecron had been born first, you probably wouldn’t have even given Cynda a second thought.”

The scowl returned to Valmar’s gaunt face, though yet again it was merely for a passing second.

Malvern paced away from the window, staring down into his half-empty glass. “I’ve heard she’s engaged, Valera. To a Naboo man, of all things. While I’m sure it’ll stir some of the more conservative members of the court, I doubt it’ll cause too much of a fuss among the Great Houses; she has no chance of becoming a Countess, especially not after House Teramo was disgraced by Count Avron’s actions.”

Valmar slowly leaned forward to place his glass on the table in front of him, his face a blank canvas of emotion. He then lifted his dark eyes to look at Malvern, assessing his cousin with a hollow look.

“It’s getting late, Lyon,” the Count of Serenno said. “You should probably go home to your wife.”

“The night is still young, Tyr.” Malvern took another sip from his wine. “Besides, she’s a busy woman. She probably won’t even notice my absence.”

“Is that right?” Valmar rose from his seat and clasped his hands in front of his chest, his fingers interlacing with each other. “Do you make a habit out of being absent? Such as for extended periods of time?”

For the first time since the night had begun, Malvern’s eyes met Valmar’s. The lesser count swallowed, which sounded louder than he perhaps intended.

“I mean, there have been times where my meetings with the other counts stretched out well into the night,” Malvern said uneasily. “Some lasting until dawn.”

“And would these ‘meetings’ perhaps entail the spouses of some of these counts?”

Malvern gaped at him, his eyes wide with… fear, perhaps? Possibly even confusion? No, it had to be fear, Valmar told himself. It would only make sense.

“I… I beg your pardon,” his cousin croaked. “I… I don’t know what you could possibly be insinuating.”

“Really?” Valmar stepped closer to him, his dark eyes taking on a golden glow. “Then you would not know what it is like to find your own wife in a bed with another man.”

Malvern staggered back, eyes still wide, mouth still agape. “I… I don’t know what you are possibly—”

“If you don’t believe me, then my chief of security will gladly show you the footage,” Valmar snarled. “She was very keen on showing me.”

“My lord, there must be some sort of misunderstanding,” Malvern said hastily, continuing to back up against the window, his glass-holding hand shaking. “I assure you that I would do no such—”

“Don’t insult me with your lies, Malvern.” Valmar extended his hand and an invisible force grabbed the other count, hoisting him up in the air. “You will only bring shame to your family’s name.”

“My lord, please!” Malvern cried, flailing his limbs. His glass fell to the floor, shattering and spilling its red contents onto the rug. “Have merc—”

Valmar flicked his wrist and the Count of House Malvern was sent crashing through the window. His screams quickly receded into the distance as he plummeted towards the ground some fifty feet below, before being totally silenced.

As the night exhaled its cool breezes into the room through the now-opened window, Count Tyr Valmar collapsed into his seat, exhausted. A few minutes later, his comlink buzzed and he picked it up from the table.

“Captain.”

“My lord, we’ve just found Count Malvern’s body out in the gardens,” the voice of his chief of security came through. “It looks like he fell from your window. Is everything all right?”

“Everything is fine, captain. Please provide Count Malvern with any medical attention he needs.”

He did not wait for a response and set his comlink back down onto the table. For a long time, he simply stared at the shattered window, feeling the icy winds blow onto his face.

Then, he heard it call out to him.

“You have done phenomenally, my apprentice.”

He rolled his head to the side, his eyes focused on the partially open door that led into his private chambers. Even through the small crack, he could see the holocron’s scarlet glow, which pulsated with every word it spoke.

“Come to me. Hear what I have to say next.”

His body moved on its own accord as it pulled itself out of the chair and walked lazily towards his chambers. He pushed open the door, giving him full view of the pyramidal-shaped device planted on the center of his bedside table.

“You have taken a large step in asserting your control by eliminating those who have done you wrong,” the Sith holocron spoke with the voice of the long-departed Darth Tyranus. “You have humiliated your brother-in-law for spurring you. You have poisoned your wife for betraying you. You have killed the man who was her accomplice. The Court has learned by now the price of wronging you. The leaders of the Great Houses will not dare speak against you.”

From the other room, Valmar’s comlink buzzed again. He did not pay it any mind.

“What is thy bidding, my master?” Valmar asked, bowing his head.

“Serenno is yours now, my friend. Your enemies have been sufficiently vanquished and quelled. It is time for you to reap your rewards.”

The comlink continued to buzz repeatedly. Then, it abruptly went silent.

Valmar lifted his head up, yellow staining his bloodshot eyes. “Is my training complete then? Have I become a true Sith?”

“You always were,” the voice of Darth Tyranus replied. “You simply needed to realize it.”

Had Valmar listened closely, he would have heard his guards posted outside scream as they fell to a lightsaber blade. Yet, the Count of Serenno heard nothing.

“Rise, my apprentice. Henceforth, you shall be known as Darth—”

The door to his chambers crashed open. Valmar launched to his feet, hand reaching for his lightsaber, only to be thrown back against the wall by an invisible force. The Sith holocron toppled from its pedestal and landed on the floor. Its red glow faded and it ceased speaking.

The masked warrior stepped into the room, his left arm outstretched as he held Valmar in place while he carried his unstable crossguard lightsaber in his other hand.

“Count Tyr Valmar,” the mysterious man said. “My apologies for the unannounced arrival. Your guards were rather… inhospitable towards me.”

Valmar sneered at him, despite the Force grip the other had on him. “What is the meaning of this intrusion?” he snarled.

“I am in need of answers. You were one of the eleven Sith Masters that served Darth Sedriss, were you not?”

“What is it to you?” Valmar spat.

“And, of those eleven, you are one of six that still remain, the others having been killed by their apprentices. Those apprentices have all been dealt with, but their masters still remain. I want you to give me their locations.”

“For what purpose? So you can kill them, just as you will kill me?”

“If I decide you are of use to me, then I will spare you from their fate. You can start being of use by giving me their names and locations.”

Do as he says. The voice of Darth Tyranus spoke once more in Valmar’s head, though he wasn’t sure if it was coming from the holocron. Those others did nothing for you. They were weak and foolish, and would have succumbed to their own devices had they not fled into hiding like the cowards they are.

The masked man’s hand started to close and Valmar gasped, his breath running short.

“Su Koda,” he managed to get out. “She’s on Cato Neimoidia. You will find her there.”

“Good start,” said the man and he lessened his grip, if only slightly. “Now, the others.”

Tell him, implored Tyranus.

“Vizun Naris. Talravin, in the Core Worlds.”

Good, good!

“Nasoth Alarin, I’m not sure. He was always traveling the galaxy, searching for something called the Whills. I have not heard from Viron; I’m not even sure if he’s still alive. And Voldess… none of us knew who Voldess even was. She was a mystery to all of us.”

A long, pressing moment of silence passed. The masked man kept Valmar in the air, not releasing his grip. Then, finally, he lowered his arm and the Count of Serenno dropped down onto his feet. He stared at the masked man, breathing heavily as he tried to get a read of the stranger’s face through the thin visor of his mask.

“Impressive,” the stranger finally said, the blade of his lightsaber retracting back into his hilt. “I did not think you had it in you.”

Valmar swallowed. “You will spare me then?”

“I am a man of my word. So long as you stay out of my way, you will not have to worry about facing my wrath.”

He turned to leave and Valmar watched him take a few steps before stopping to look back at the Count.

“You might want to do something about the bodies outside, though.”

Without another word, the masked man departed as suddenly as he had arrived. As soon as he was gone, Valmar collapsed onto the floor, clutching his head in his hands.

As he passed out from exhaustion, he didn’t even notice that the Sith holocron was missing.

*  *  *

The TIE Silencer departed from the planet of Serenno, leaving behind the political strife and chaos that was sure to break out as a result of Count Tyr Valmar’s actions. The question of whether or not the Great Houses would stand with the First Order when the time came remained in doubt, though Kylo Ren would leave that matter for others to deal with.

As he put in the coordinates for Cato Neimoidia into his ship’s computer, he spared a glance at the Sith holocron he had stolen from Valmar’s chambers, which he had stored in a side compartment. His master had not informed him that the Count would have been in possession of such an artifact; it was possible that the Supreme Leader wasn’t even aware of it himself. Kylo thought about contacting Snoke about it but thought better of it; there was no need for the Supreme Leader to know of it just yet. The matter could wait.

Once the coordinates had been locked in, Kylo Ren pulled the hyperdrive lever and the stars stretched into lines as his ship jumped to its next destination.

Star Wars: Vergence II, Chapter One

 CHAPTER ONE

Jakku, one year ago

“You know what it is I seek.”

The fires of the burning village were reflected in the old man’s eyes as he stared back at the masked warriors standing in front of him. White-armored soldiers held him roughly by the arms, while others held his fellow villagers at blaster point.

“From what I understand, the San Tekkas have been known historically for their knowledge of hyperspace,” Kylo Ren went on. “This is why you were trusted with the secret location of the First Jedi Temple.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Lor San Tekka snapped, his eyes blazing with defiance. “I am no Jedi; why would I know of such a secret place?”

From behind the Knight of Ren, the stormtrooper designated FN-2187 watched the conversation between the two men unfold, keeping his F-11D blaster rifle trained on the scared Abednedo kneeling in front of him.

“Don’t lie to me,” Kylo Ren snarled, his modulated voice making him sound almost like some sort of possessed monster. “You knew Luke Skywalker once, did you not? You accompanied him on some of his travels, helping him rebuild the Jedi Order.”

San Tekka’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t know how you could possibly know of that. Regardless, it means nothing. He would have never entrusted something like that which you seek with an ordinary man such as myself.”

FN-2187 noticed Kylo Ren’s hand twitch as it drifted towards a cylindrical-shaped device hanging off his belt.

“You are no ordinary man, Lor San Tekka. No mere ordinary man would be such a close associate of Skywalker and his friends.”

San Tekka’s look of indignation melted into one of confusion. “You speak as if you know me, yet I don’t believe we’ve ever met. Who exactly are you and how do you know so much about me.”

“My identity means nothing,” Kylo Ren replied. “Your reputation — and the legacy of your family — simply precedes you.”

He unclipped the cylindrical device from his belt, his thumb hovering over the activation button.

“Now then, I will ask one last time: Give me the map to the First Jedi Temple. Or else, you will watch these villagers die.”

Fearful murmurs erupted from the crowd of villagers. An Ithorian woman’s voice rose louder than the rest and was quickly silenced by FN-2187’s chrome-plated superior — Captain Phasma — as she rammed the butt of her blaster into the Ithorian’s head.

“Please!” Lor San Tekka cried, raising his hands. “There is no need for that!”

He hung his head low, sighing in defeat.

“The map is no longer in my possession. I destroyed it when I heard rumors of the Sith’s return. I couldn’t risk letting it fall in their hands.”

“LIAR!” A red, unstable blade of energy extended from the cylinder as Kylo Ren pointed it at San Tekka’s face. “I know that you still have the map! Don’t bother hiding it from me!”

FN-2187 felt his body tense, though he was not sure why. He looked down at the terrified Abednedo at his mercy, seeing the pure fear in the villager’s eyes.

San Tekka stared back at Kylo Ren evenly. “I gain nothing from lying to you. The map is gone. You are wasting your time.”

“If that is the case, then yours is at an end.”

Kylo Ren raised his lightsaber and brought the crackling red blade down onto Lor San Tekka. As the legendary explorer crumpled to the ground, screams erupted from the other villagers. Some struggled to escape only to be quickly subdued by their armored captors. The Abednedo’s own screams filled FN-2187’s ears through the filters of his helmet, causing his whole body to freeze up. 

“My lord.” Phasma’s icy voice cut through the air as she stepped towards Lor San Tekka’s murderer. “What shall we do with the villagers?”

As he sheathed his lightsaber, Kylo Ren spared only a moment to assess the gathered villagers. “Kill them all.”

With that, he turned sharply on his heel and departed for his command shuttle, ignoring the cries of fear and protest coming from the villagers. Phasma then stepped forward to address her soldiers.

“Round them up!” she barked.

Unable to move, FN-2187 could only watch as his fellow stormtrooper FN-2199 stepped over and dragged the Abednedo away from him, pulling them into line with the other villagers. A sharp nudge from another trooper snapped FN-2187 out of his trance and he moved into formation with his teammates, raising his blaster at the villagers, his finger resting on the trigger.

“On my mark,” Phasma began, raising a hand.

FN-2187 barely even heard her when she gave the command. The sounds of the others’ blasters firing filled his ears, accompanied by the dying screams of the villager. One by one, they fell: the Abednedo man, the Ithorian woman, a Twi’lek couple, even a Rodian child were not save from the stormtroopers’ wrath.

It was only after all was said and done, and a deathly silence fell over the village of Tuanul, that he realized his finger was still resting on the trigger….

D’Qar, now

“Lor San Tekka is dead?”

Finn nodded, standing before the leaders of the Resistance in their command center. They had agreed to meet with him after Poe Dameron, whom Finn had met back on Ord Mantell, had told them about him being a defector from the First Order and thus someone who had information on the mysterious faction that had arisen from the ashes of Darth Taral’s operations.

Standing front and center of the assembled Resistance leaders was Leia Organa Solo — once the Princess of Alderaan and a hero of the Rebellion, now the primary leader of the Resistance. To her right stood General Hawk Dorian and Admiral Gial Ackbar, veterans of the New Republic. To her left were Admiral Statura and General Helricks, who had both come out of retirement to join General Organa in her efforts to expose the corruption that currently plagued the Galactic Alliance and the powers they believed were behind that corruption. Standing just off to the side was Commander Poe Dameron himself, eying the entire conversation with interest.

Upon hearing of Lor San Tekka’s death, General Organa’s expression became grave, almost heartbroken. “He was a good man,” she said quietly. “A very close friend to my family. He will be dearly missed.”

“Is there more to your story, Mister Finn?” asked Admiral Statura. “I don’t believe you have explained how exactly you defected from this First Order and made your way to Ord Mantell.”

Finn shifted. “There’s not much to it, admiral. I did arise some suspicion from my superiors for failing to fire on the villagers, but I was able to convince them that my blaster had been jammed. I then waited around for a while until I could fake my death and slip away. As far as the First Order knows, I’m as good as dead.”

“How deliberately vague,” said General Helricks, eying Finn skeptically. She was an older woman with white hair and many wrinkles on her face, though they made her look more hardened rather than stern. “Forgive me for being hesitant to believe your story, mister, but as a high-ranking officer of a private military force, I am obligated to have some degree of skepticism in order to preserve our security.”

“I understand, general,” Finn replied. “If it would help, I do have more to give you, such as basic understanding of the First Order’s command structure, some of its key figures, and even some of their affiliates.”

“Such information would be much appreciated,” said Leia Organa. “I will send you over to our director of Intelligence, so that you can provide them with the information.”

Finn nodded. “Will that be all, generals?”

“For now,” said Leia. “Commander Dameron will take you to the director, if he does not mind.”

“Fine by me, general.” Poe walked past Finn as he headed out of the command center, patting the other man on the shoulder. “Let’s go.”

As the two men departed from the room, the five generals were left alone to talk amongst themselves. Helricks was the first to speak as she turned to face Leia, folding her arms.

“So,” she said, “what is this I hear about a map to ‘the First Jedi Temple?’”

“It’s the first I’m hearing about it as well, Joma,” Leia replied. “I don’t recall my brother ever mentioning it, assuming it was he who entrusted the map with Lor San Tekka. Granted, I was never that heavily involved with his Jedi Order. He trained me, of course, and I still carry my lightsaber, though I have not used it in so long. But I was always more focused on the New Republic and its affairs, leaving him to watch over the Jedi. And after he passed, I put even more distance between myself and the Order, knowing of their affairs only through my children.”

“Do you think this kid could be making all of this up?” asked General Hawk.

“It’s possible,” Leia admitted. “But we should also be open to the possibility that he isn’t. I know it is a large risk to take, but we’re at a point where we could use any intel on the Cabal or the First Order that we can get, even if there’s a chance it may prove to be false.”

Admiral Ackbar stroked the barbels dangling from his chin. “Perhaps we should reach out to our Jedi allies on Tython. Perhaps one of their older members may know about this map.”

Leia nodded in agreement. “I will send a message to my son Jacen. He is still overseeing the restructuring of the Jedi Order, though I’m sure he would be more than willing to look into this.”

“That is good to hear,” said Admiral Statura. “Now then, shall we move on to the next item on the agenda? Regarding Operation: Tranquility?”

“Of course.” Leia gestured to Ackbar. “Admiral, if you would please….”

Tython

“Focus, Rey. Don’t let your emotions cloud your—”

The remote training droids went off before Toah Jarsan could finish speaking. His apprentice’s blue lightsaber moved in a flurry, deflecting the blaster bolts as they came. While the first few shots bounced off her blade effortlessly, one managed to braze against her shoulder, causing her to lose her stance. This allowed the other floating balls to get in their own shots, hitting her in the arm and leg. Growling in frustration, she tore off the blast shield helmet she was wearing and hurled it at one of the training remotes, knocking it out of the air. She then flung her lightsaber at the other two, slicing them neatly in half.

As the lightsaber hilt returned to her hand, Toah let out a disappointed sigh. 

“That’s not exactly how a Jedi is supposed to deal with failure,” he said.

“I just can’t focus,” Rey muttered, switching off the blue blade of her saber. “There’s so much going on in the galaxy and yet here I am getting shot at by training remotes. We should be out there helping the Resistance.”

“I will admit that I had hoped that the mission to Corellia would have been beneficial for you,” Toah said. “Given you a chance to shine and learn important Jedi virtues, such as patience. Unfortunately, due to circumstances that were outside anyone’s control, I don’t think things turned out the way I had hoped they would.”

Rey huffed. “So, what? I’m stuck on Tython for good until I finish my training?”

“Not necessarily. But it may be some time before we return to the thick of things with the Resistance and their objectives.”

While she did not bother to hide the disappointment on her face, Rey did not argue or protest further and instead walked over to pick up her helmet and the remains of the training remotes. She then joined Toah as they began their journey back to the Jedi Temple grounds, navigating through the lush green forests that made up most of the planet’s landscape.

From what Toah understood, Tython was the ancestral home of the Jedi Order before abandoning it after the Force Wars and relocating to Ossus. Following the Sacking of Coruscant during the wars against the Sith Empire, the Jedi had moved back to Tython only to once again abandon the world when the Eternal Empire invaded the galaxy. The history records were rather murky on the exact details of those events — just as they were with a lot from that time period — but by the Ruusan Reformations, Tython had been rendered a barren world by violent storms and the hyperlanes that led to it had been lost.

Many mysteries surrounded the planet as it was, such as how it had managed to return to its original lush state and how its Jedi Temple had managed to survive all these millennia, allowing Jacen Solo to rediscover it around the same time as Darth Taral’s attack on Ossus. Of course, with everything else that was currently going on in the galaxy, such mysteries took low priority in being solved; so long as the Jedi Order had a safe home, Toah was content in remaining ignorant.

Upon reaching the temple grounds, Toah found several Jedi out and about; masters were teaching their students just as he had been teaching Rey, groups of Padawans were huddled together to study ancient Jedi texts, and pupil-less Knights conversed amongst themselves. All around, it was a peaceful scene, though Toah could detect a subtle, underlying feeling of dread; the attack on Ossus was still fresh in everyone’s minds and they were no doubt apprehensive of another such crisis befalling their new home. It was a sentiment he shared, though he did his best not to show it.

After passing Master Dalus Nurn and a group of students, all training with remote droids as well, Toah and Rey reached the entrance of the pyramidal Jedi Temple and ascended its front steps. They proceeded to walk down the long, expansive hallways in silence, navigating their way through the bronze-colored corridors that led to the meeting chambers of the newly restructured Jedi Council. 

Ever since bringing the Order to Tython and being named Master of the Order by the Council’s surviving members, Jacen Solo had restructured the Council to seat nine members instead of the traditional twelve, which he claimed had been the structure used by the Jedi’s ancestors on Tython before the Force Wars. Each master was assigned a specific division of the Order to oversee: Masters Tionne and Cilghal oversaw the Knowledge and Healing divisions, positions they had carried over from the old structure; similarly, Kam Solusar and Kyle Katarn were assigned to oversee the Jedi Academy and Martial Arts divisions, which were akin to the duties they held on Ossus. Masters Noran Raun and Nira Maren had been entrusted with the Force Skills and Arts divisions respectively, while Master Gaaraddik was placed in charge of the Forge. Finally, the newly elevated Jedi Master Saba Sebatyne oversaw the Order’s Science division, teaching Padawans inventive ways of using the Force.

Despite the Council’s limited number of seats, it still had a rotating membership that was always in flux. Multiple masters would oversee a single division and stand in for a Councilor should one be absent or preoccupied with other masters. Toah believed Jacen had done this so as to not make the council seats something that a Jedi should ever aspire to achieve and instead simply be another one of the many duties that any fully trained Jedi could be called upon to perform. Toah saw the wisdom in this decision, aware of historic instances in which jealousy was sparked from some Jedi Masters being elevated over others, leading those who had been scorned to fall to the dark side.

As Toah and Rey entered the Council Chambers, they found three of its members sitting around the central table. Upon noticing the pair’s entry, Jacen Solo rose from his seat, with Masters Katarn and Nira Maren following suit.

“Master Jarsan, Jedi Rey,” Jacen greeted them with a nod. “How goes training?”

“It’s going,” Toah replied, deliberately vague. “Still room for improvement, as always.”

Frustration rippled from Rey through the Force, though she kept her face stoic. If any of the masters sensed it, they did not show it either.

“Of course,” Jacen said. “We were also just talking about the two of you.”

Toah raised an eyebrow. “You were?”

Kyle Katarn nodded. “We just received a message from the Resistance. They just learned from the man you met on Ord Mantell — Finn, I believe is his name — that the dark warrior you faced on Corellia is after a map leading to the First Jedi Temple. It was originally in the possession of Lor San Tekka, who claimed to have destroyed it before he was killed.”

Toah frowned. “I met Lor San Tekka not so long ago, back on Jakku. It was right before I met Rey here.”

“I was there as well,” said Jacen. “This Finn person was apparently a soldier in the new Empire that Darth Taral was trying to build. He deserted after Kylo Ren killed Lor San Tekka.”

Jacen spoke the name ‘Kylo Ren’ in a strange manner. Toah understood his awkwardness; while it was not common knowledge among the Order, Toah knew that Kylo Ren was in fact Ben Solo, the elder Solo child who went missing and presumed dead shortly before Jacen and his sister were born. Toah was not privy to how Jacen felt about this development concerning his brother, but he also knew it was none of his business.

Nira Maren picked up where Jacen left off. “This matter is particularly interesting to us because of what it implies, if Finn’s story is taken to be true. Not only the implication that a Jedi Temple was constructed on a world other than Tython, but also Lor San Tekka’s own implication that Master Skywalker knew of this and yet did not inform anyone.”

“You mean none of the older masters are aware of this?” Toah asked.

Jacen shook his head. “I’ve already asked Gaaraddik, who is the last surviving member of the Old Council. He told me that this is the first he’s heard of such a map. Even Master Katarn here and other early students of Master Skywalker know nothing of this matter.”

Rey glanced from one councilor to the other. “So, how do Master Jarsan and I come into play?” she asked.

“We are thinking about sending the two of you to Jakku to look for answers,” said Master Katarn. “While, according to Finn’s report, most of the people living in San Tekka’s village were executed by Kylo Ren and his soldiers, there is one villager that we believe to still be alive and may know more about San Tekka’s map.”

“How do you know of this villager and that they’re still alive?” asked Toah.

It was Nira Maren who answered them, a soft smile crossing her emerald face. “Because I heard from him merely a week ago. His name is Chek Urhed, an Abednedo priest who raised me back when I lived among the Church of the Force, before becoming a Jedi at Lor San Tekka’s behest.”

Toah raised an eyebrow. “I was not aware you once knew Lor San Tekka.”

“I did not know much about him,” Maren admitted. “And since I was only a child, I was not privy to any important matters that he and the other Church members concerned themselves with. But Father Chek was a leading figure of the Church and, if this report is to be believed, possibly its last surviving member.”

“I see. So, I take it you are sending us to Jakku because of our familiarity with the world — specifically Rey’s?”

“That is correct,” said Jacen. “However, you will not be traveling there alone. Master Maren here has agreed to accompany you, due to her relationship with Father Chek.” 

“The Resistance is also sending operatives of their own,” said Master Katarn. “If only to help verify Finn’s account of what befell Lor San Tekka and his people.”

Toah glanced at Rey. He had been expecting her to look reluctant about returning to her homeworld, given the planet’s harsh nature and her equally harsh upbringing there. Instead, she practically beamed as she looked from the three Councilors to him.

“When do we leave?” she asked. 

Star Wars: Vergence II, Prologue

 PROLOGUE

Located far out in the Outer Rim, Lothal was a planet that, outside of its history, did not hold much significance. A simple frontier world, Lothal had been a major hot spot of conflict in the early days of the Rebellion, thanks to the efforts of a small rebel cell. Lothal’s eventual liberation from the rule of the Empire coincided with a series of major victories held by the Rebel Alliance in the lead-up to the Battle of Yavin and helped solidify the Alliance as a credible threat against the Empire.

In the four decades that had passed since then, however, Lothal had gradually fallen back into obscurity and was once again a semi-obscure backwater world on the edge of the Outer Rim. Despite the efforts of its representatives in the Senate, the Galactic Alliance had largely ignored Lothal’s wishes since the Glorian War and left it to fend for itself.

It was perhaps due to these conditions that a lone starship was able to enter the Lothal system without disturbing an Alliance fleet, for there was no such fleet to disturb.

Even so, the occupants of the starship had not come to Lothal for any malicious purposes. On the contrary, their arrival was solely for the sake of business. Had there been an Alliance fleet blocking their path, Kodai Loh, curator of the Braglon Museum, was certain they would have allowed them to pass after understanding their endeavor was one of profit and nothing more than that.

The ebony-skinned Sakiyan stood behind the seat of the human pilot, adjusting the lapels of his expensive suit, which was a contrasting white. Standing beside him was his Sy Myrthian partner, who looked as if he would have much preferred to be anywhere in the galaxy but here. Kodai Loh could not fathom why, though; even if their efforts did not turn up any results, surely the mere prospect of what they might find on Lothal would have been exciting in and of itself. Then again, Doonluck Soota had always been an individual who was hard to please; Kodai had learned that first-hand back when he had been apprenticed to the old slug.

Once the small ship had passed through the planet’s atmosphere, it began its approach towards a patch of rural land that laid beyond civilization. Kodai couldn’t help but admire the mounds that populated the grasslands. He wondered if they perhaps had a connection to the Petrified Mounds that could have once been found on Alderaan, decades ago. Those landmarks were said to have been created by the ancient Killiks and similar such structures had been found on worlds such as Maridun and Sicemon. Perhaps some day, he would delve further into that mystery. Right now, however, he had more pressing answers to find; answers that could perhaps prove profitable.

Upon reaching their destination, Kodai Loh saw exactly what he had been expecting; a patch of empty dry land where the Jedi Temple was supposed to have been. Based on accounts he had found from his research, the temple had allegedly sank beneath the ground, preventing the Empire from using whatever it held within. For many years, he had doubted the validity of these accounts. But now… now, he was starting to believe.

Beside him, Doonluck Soota let out a snort from his nostrils. “I knew this was going to be a waste of time.”

“It’s supposed to be this way,” Kodai Loh snapped. “So far, everything is lining up with what I have already learned in my research.”

“’Everything?’ There’s nothing there! Nothing to prove or discredit your delusions.”

Kodai smirked. “Then we might as well take a closer look. Shouldn’t we?”

Soota rolled his eyes but said nothing further as the starship touched down on the empty site.

Once it had, Kodai Loh wasted no time in disembarking from the ship, not waiting for Soota to catch up, and stepped down onto the patch of land where the ancient Jedi Temple had once stood. A circle of grassland mounds surrounded the spot, indicating where exactly the temple was supposed buried. He crouched down and traced his black fingers through the dirt, a frown crossing his face.

“Perhaps we should have brought some digging equipment with us,” he mused to himself.

“Ha!” Soota barked, slithering up behind him. “As if you would ever get your hands dirty. Besides, I’m sure there are some contractors in the city that would be willing to dig up this spot for you… provided you have the money.”

Kodai sniffed. “I have more than enough. Get back onto the ship and make a quick trip to the capital. See if you can find anyone willing to do the work. I’ll be waiting here.”

“And what’s stopping me from just ditching you here and finding someone else to do your job back at Braglon?” Soota said snidely.

“Your moral integrity,” Kodai replied. “Plus the fact that our higher-ups would no doubt figure out the truth and have your hide. Now get going.”

Without even looking, he could tell that the Sy Myrthian was giving him a very rude gesture with his hand. Nonetheless, he heard Soota slither back up the ramp and, within moments, the ship was taking off for the capital.

As soon as it was gone, Kodai straightened up and took in a deep breath, savoring the fresh air. As he looked towards the horizon, marveling at the expansive beauty of Lothal’s grasslands, he noticed a strange white shape on the move. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the glow of the sun in order for him to make out any details. The figure was moving quickly — inhumanely quickly, now that he thought about it — and it was heading straight for him.

Frowning, Kodai reached down to his belt and unclipped a pair of macrobinoculars. He raised them to his eyes and adjusted the knob on its side, giving himself a clearer visual of the figure that was—

His heart nearly stopped. The binoculars fell from his hand and he nearly tripped over his feet as he staggered backward. The figure was getting closer now; much closer. He reached down for his comlink, only to fumble with it and drop it to the ground. Left with no other option, he started to make a run for it. He only managed to take a few steps when an invisible hand seized him and hoisted him up in the air.

The snap-hiss of a lightsaber activating filled his ears, though it was quickly drowned out by the sound of labored, mechanical breathing.

The invisible hand pulled him back and the last thing Kodai Loh saw before death consumed him was a flash of white light.

*  *  *

A crowd had gathered at the small transport that had inexplicably crashed on the outskirts of Lothal City. While no pedestrians had been killed in the incident, the same could not have been said for its two occupants: a human pilot and a Sy Myrthian passenger.

As speculation ran rampant as to the cause for this accident, news quickly reached the office of Lothal’s long-suffering governor. The matter was promptly placed at the back of a queue of incidents with striking similarities to this one.

She had lost count of the days since this had first started. She had tried several times to alert the Galactic Alliance of this issue, but they had yet to respond. Just as they had yet to respond to any of the other issues Lothal was currently suffering from.

The accidents, and the death counts that came with them, would continue to add up. And there was nothing she could do about it.

For the first time since the reign of the Galactic Empire, Lothal was well and truly alone.