8: A PRECIOUS PIECE OF HISTORY
Endor, 8005 C.R.C.
Pommet Warrick knew he was in trouble.
His parents had warned him many times to never venture outside of the village without supervision from either them or any of the other adult villagers. But if there was anything he had inherited from his parents, it was a daring sense of adventure and a streak of rebellion that could not be quashed by any form of authority.
Growing up, he had been told many stories about his father’s adventures, from escaping the Gorax, fighting dark witches and Duloks, all the way to destroying the Metal Moon in the Sky. His father hadn’t been that much older than Pommet was now when he had embarked on these adventures, and Pommet saw no reason as to why he couldn’t have adventures of his own, so that he too could have stories that would be passed down on to his own children.
Navigating carefully through the forest that surrounded the Bright Tree Village, relying on his memory of the treks that Uncle Paploo would often take him on, Pommet had eventually made his way to a clearing which he knew to be the location of the Demon Spirit’s grave.
Twenty-four years ago, on the day the Golden One had come to liberate the Forest Moon of Endor, a malevolent entity whom the Golden One had referred to in his tongue as “Darth Vader” had been vanquished by a heroic knight and his body had been set ablaze in a funeral pyre not far from the Bright Tree Village. No one knew why the knight had given such an honorable funeral to such an evil being, but Pommet chose to believe it was because of the good in his heart. Everyone deserved a peaceful end, even if their actions did not warrant it.
The pyre was now nothing but mud and soot, yet a piece of the Demon Spirit’s body remained, never to be fully vanquished. Its charred ghastly skull laid among the ruins of the pyre, staring up at those who dared to approach it. Pommet had glimpsed it once when his father took him out this far while regaling him with the story of the Golden One’s arrival, and now he wanted to take a closer look. His mother had warned him against it, worried that the skull would be enchanted with dark charms, but he would not let that sway him away from his objective.
However, as he came to the location of the skull, he quickly saw that he was not the only one to have come here.
Emerging from the other side of the forest was a tall figure clad head-to-toe in black. They were virtually impossible to see under the cover of night, although Pommet’s eyes were well-attuned enough to darkness that he could make out the stranger. Their appearance was evocative of descriptions of the Demon Spirit as well as other dark forces that had threatened Endor in the past, yet Pommet was surprised to realize he was not scared of the being. If anything, it was curiosity rather than fear that he felt.
From the shadows, he watched as the dark one approached the remains of the pyre, stepping towards the charred skull. Each step he took was decisive and hesitant, almost as if he himself was scared of the skull. When he finally reached the skull, Pommet braced himself for it to unleash its dark energies on the stranger, bombarding him with every malevolent spell that was contained within it.
Nothing of the sort happened. The stranger simply knelt down and picked up the skull from where it lay, although he treated it gingerly and with care, almost as if he was afraid to break it. For a long time, the man just stood there, cradling the skull in his arms as he looked down at it. Pommet remained perfectly still where he hid in the trees, daring to not so much as breathe for fear of attracting the dark figure’s notice.
Finally, after what felt like forever, the dark man turned away from the remains of the pyre and began to walk away, the charred skull still in his arms. It was only when he had vanished back into the forest did Pommet finally allow himself to let out the breath he had been holding. Not wanting to stick around in case the figure decided to return, he began to make his way back home. Now all he needed to worry about was the talking-to that his parents were surely going to give him. He doubted either of them would believe him if he told them what he had just seen, although the absence of the skull would surely be noticed eventually.
He only hoped that none of this was a dark omen for things to come….
* * *
Ren was still waiting by the ship when Kylo returned. He almost hadn’t noticed the passage of time since he had retrieved the mask of Darth Vader from its resting place. His mind was swarming with muddled thoughts, voices whispering indecipherable words in his ear. It almost felt as if the mask had taken a hold of him, guiding him back to the Night Buzzard and controlling his body as he navigated his way through the forest.
Upon noticing Kylo’s approach, as well as the item he held in his hands, Ren tilted his head in a show of approval. “That didn’t take long. How many Ewoks did you have to kill for it?”
“None,” Kylo dully replied. “I didn’t encounter any.”
“Lucky for them.” Ren stepped forward to meet Kylo halfway and reached out for the mask. Instinctively, Kylo pulled it away, holding it close to his chest. Ren seemed surprised by this action and seemed to debate himself whether or not to forcibly take the artifact from him. Instead, he merely retracted his hand and turned to head up the ship’s ramp. Wordlessly, Kylo followed him and closed the ramp behind them as soon as they were both aboard.
As the two of them stepped into the cockpit, Kuruk glanced up from the pilot’s seat. “Where to next?” he asked.
“Plot a course for Vjun,” Ren said, crossing his arms as he faced the viewport. “We’ve got an appointment with Dr. Wavlud.”
Normally, Kylo would have asked who this “Dr. Wavlud” was, but he was too lost in his thoughts to ask such questions. The mask felt as if it was glued to his hands and he could not take his eyes off it. As the Night Buzzard began to lift up from the ground, the voices in his head started to become clearer and he could finally make out what they were saying.
“I have been waiting for you.” The voice was deep and booming, reverberating in his head. “My grandson.”
Kylo peered into the eyes of Darth Vader’s mask as the void began to envelop his vision.
“Let me show you… the power of the dark side.”
* * *
Vjun
“Professor?”
Ingo Wavlud lifted his head up from his desk. The ceremony had concluded fifteen minutes ago, once the Solo children had departed from Vjun, and most of the students had returned to their dormitories. One student continued to linger however, and Wavlud was not surprised by who. Ever since she had been brought into the Children of Vader, Lumina Bast had been eager to fulfill her duty to the Dark Lord, and now that she was an official member, that eagerness had only blossomed further. She stood in the doorway to his office, eyes wide and piercing.
“Yes, Lady Bast?” Wavlud asked. “How may I help you?”
He expected her to inquire something in regards to her initiation, or about her faith to Lord Vader, but instead she swallowed nervously and said, “Someone is here to see you.”
Wavlud frowned in confusion as Lumina stepped aside, allowing a gang of eight to storm into the study. They were all clad in rusted black armor, although their leader had forgone a shirt in favor of showcasing his heavily scarred and burnt chest. One of them carried an item in their hands, and upon realizing what said item was Wavlud jumped up to his feet, pushing his chair back hard enough to topple it over as he regarded the artifact with wide eyes.
“Ah, at last!” the professor exclaimed. “Long have I awaited the recovery of such a precious piece of history!” He stepped around his desk and held out his hands. “Please, may I see it?”
“Good luck with that,” grunted the leader of the Knights of Ren. “Kid’s got his fingers practically glued to it.”
Wavlud’s face dropped in disappointment as he regarded the Knight carrying the mask of Darth Vader. The young warrior did not seem to even be aware of his presence, hyperfixated on the mask as he wandered aimlessly in the wake of the other Knights. He thought about reaching for the mask and taking it from him but something about the Knight and the aura he was exuding compelled him not to. Clearing his throat, Wavlud stepped away from him and returned his attention to Ren.
“Well then… in any case, it is good to know that the mask is in good hands,” Wavlud said wryly. “Your timing is perfect as well. The Children have just broadcast their next message through the HoloNet.”
“Message, Professor?” Lumina inquired, standing off to the side.
Wavlud waved a hand to dismiss her. “Don’t you worry about that. Shouldn’t you be returning to your studies?”
Lumina bowed her head in subservience as she quickly vacated the room. Once she was gone, Wavlud walked back over to his desk and opened up a hidden compartment. From it, he presented a red crystal, which he held up to the window, allowing Vjun’s sun to gleam off its scarlet surface.
“As promised,’ the professor said as he walked back up to the Knights of Ren. “The final piece of the puzzle.”
“You’re positive that this is the real deal?” Ren asked pointedly as he took the crystal.
“Would I lie to you?” Wavlud asked.
“No, but that doesn’t mean you know everything. It’s widely believed that Vader’s lightsaber was destroyed on the second Death Star.”
“And yet the Acolytes of the Beyond recovered said lightsaber on Taris.”
“So they say.” Ren shook his head ruefully. “I swear, all you cultists are the same. You’d believe the Dark Lord had come back from the dead if someone told you a convincing enough story.”
Not waiting for Wavlud to retort, Ren took the lightsaber of Darth Atrius from Kylo’s belt. The younger Knight didn’t even notice him, lost as he was staring at the mask. Opening up the lightsaber, Ren placed the crystal into the lightsaber before closing it back up and pressing the activation switch. The three emitters sputtered with sparks, and for a brief second red energy threatened to explode from all three ends. However, after a few seconds the lights faded out and the lightsaber became as dead as it had been before.
“Yup,” Ren said casually. “What I thought.”
Cardo cocked his arm cannon. “Let me kill this one.”
Wavlud’s face blanched as he hastily backed away. “No, please! I—I could have sworn—!”
“What is it with these collectors scamming us?” asked Trudgen. “Are we just having a bad day?”
Ren sighed. “Maybe. Unfortunately, we can’t kill him.”
“Aw, come on!” Ushar smashed the floor with his war club. “You killed the last one!”
“Because the last one didn’t have special protection from our boss,” said Ren. “We’ll just have to look elsewhere for a kyber crystal.”
Wavlud cleared his throat as he held up a finger. “Um, if I may—”
“Shut it,” snapped Vicrul. “You already fooled us once. We’re not letting you—”
Ren raised a hand. “Calm down, old friend.” To Wavlud, he said, “Out with it, old man. You’ve got ten seconds before we’re out of here.”
“There—there is a way to create a Sith kyber crystal,” the professor said. “The practice has been nearly forgotten due to the fall of the Sith Order, but… the ancient texts indicate that the first Sith Lords created their lightsabers by… bleeding their kyber crystals.”
Ren lowered the dead lightsaber and tilted his head in genuine curiosity. “Bleeding?”
“Yes,” Wavlud said, encouraged by the mercy Ren was displaying. “Some of the texts from Sorzus Syn described in detail how the Dark Lords poisoned the crystals they had found on Qalydon by pouring the dark side into it, bending it to their will. This, along with the improved lightsaber hilt designs from Tulak Hord, gave them the advantage the Sith needed in their brief yet chaotic retribution against the Jedi Order following their defeat at Corbos.”
“Enough with the history lesson,” muttered Kuruk. “Where do we find a kyber crystal?”
“Well, most of the words where they are grown have either been mined dry or are under the careful eye of the New Jedi Order.” Wavlud tapped his chin in thought. “You could also steal one from a Jedi.”
Vicrul barked out a laugh. “Oh, that’s rich. Like it would just be that easy.”
Wavlud raised an eyebrow. “Given your reputation, I would have thought you Knights of Ren were more than capable of taking on a Jedi.”
“Oh, we are,” Ren said. “But our boss wants us to keep a low profile. Killing a Jedi to steal their lightsaber does the opposite of that.”
“Who says you have to kill them?”
“We do. We don’t play nice.”
Wavlud sighed. “Well, you can try scouring planets where kyber crystals have been recorded to grow. Ilum, of course, is off-limits for a variety of reasons, but you may find fortune on Dantooine or Mimban, or perhaps even Qalydon, if you’re lucky.”
Ren chuckled. “Come on, old man. You should know by now that if there’s anything we can agree with Jedi on… is that there’s no such thing as luck.”
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