May the fourth be with you.
EPILOGUE
On Sedratis, in the deepest recesses of Valrisa Manor, the body of Daiman Valrisa floated in its bacta tank. But the mind that inhabited it was no longer his own.
Everything had gone in Vorath’s favor, even if it hadn’t been in the way he had expected. He had forgotten about the child he had sired with Sareth; while he had been unaware of her connection to the Calimondra bloodline until now, she had nonetheless been a loyal disciple that he had drawn from the affluential Society, just as he had come across Snoke. His child with her had been nothing more than a contingency plan, in case Lumiya had tried to kill Varon before he could use him for his plans. But as Daiman had ended up with a… less than ideal body, he had abandoned him and by extension Sareth, leaving her to do what she willed with the child.
He was surprised that she had spared Daiman… unless it had been Tyron who had been merciful towards him. Given the fondness the Chief of State seemed to display for his brother, Vorath figured the latter was more likely.
While Daiman’s body had less functionality than Kalon’s had, it would serve its purpose nonetheless. And with his close proximity to the Chief of State, he would not need to move around much at all. He only needed to influence the Chief of State and control the Galactic Alliance through him—and, as a result, disrupt Snoke’s plans.
The so-called Supreme Leader thought he had outmatched a Dark Lord of the Sith. But he would soon be proven wrong.
“Ah. There you are.”
The blue and red eyes of Daiman Valrisa snapped open as Vorath detected a sudden presence in the chamber beyond his bacta tank. Surrounding the cylindrical vat were seven figures cloaked in black robes, a majority of their faces obscured by either masks or hoods. The one facing him appeared to be a woman, although her face was fully concealed by a smooth, featureless mask.
“It’s taken us a while to find you,” the woman said. “We thought you had been with the Knight of Ren, but apparently you’ve changed locations—and bodies—rather frequently. Trying to lose us?”
Vorath narrowed his eyes as he transmitted his response telepathically. “I wasn’t aware I was being followed.”
“We figured as much. Your actions have indicated that you are not privy to our present activities.”
“You would be correct, although I started to have my suspicions when I was near Arkania. Is Sal Tyrius still actively rebuilding the library of Veeshas Tuwan?”
“Indeed he is.” The response came from an acolyte whose garments could not conceal their tall horns, indicating him to be a Chagrian. “The work you started nearly four decades ago has been continued one way or another in your absence.”
“And here I thought my Sith Order had all been but wiped out,” Vorath mused.
“Nearly so,” said the woman. “But we have managed to survive and endure. Not to mention bring others to our cause as well. The Sith shall forever be eternal.”
“So I have you to thank for my resurrection?”
All seven of the Sith acolytes laughed, and Vorath began to feel a sense of dread wash over him.
“No, my friend,” said the Chagrian. “Your resurrection was an accident, if anything. It was Skywalker we were trying to bring back. You were just a hanger-on.”
“Skywalker?!” Vorath all but screamed in the minds of his audience, although they hardly reacted to the outburst. “You brought back Skywalker? What purpose does that serve?”
“To test a theory,” said the woman. “He never actually died all those years ago. He merely fell into the ether, into the world that lies between this one and the next, and all those in between. We simply pulled him out.”
“The World Between Worlds.” Vorath shook his head. “An absurd myth, one that even Sidious believed in. I never once thought it actually existed.”
“Well, it does. And now we know it can be used to achieve our true objective.”
Vorath seethed within the bacta tank. “You have been acting of your own accord. Without my guidance or direction. Who do you serve now if not me? Don’t tell me its Snoke.”
The woman laughed. “Of course not, you old fool. Snoke is nothing more than a pawn—a rogue pawn, but a pawn nonetheless. We serve the true Overlord of the Sith. The Sith’ari.”
Vorath’s eyes flickered to the Chagrian. They narrowed as it all clicked together. “Sidious is dead,” he then said to the woman.
“The Sith’ari has gone by many names,” she replied. “And I am sad to say, but yours is not one of them.”
As one, the seven Sith ignited their lightsabers, casting a red glow on the transparisteel of the bacta tank. Within the waters, the multi-colored eyes of Daiman Valrisa went wide.
“No,” he spoke into their minds. “You don’t understand. In this position, I can influence the Galactic Alliance! The Chief of State shall be my pawn!”
“He is already under our thumb,” said the Chagrian Sith Lord Wyyrlok.
“You are all fools! Snoke’s plan is doomed for failure! If you follow me, the Sith’s victory shall be all but guaranteed!”
“It already is, my lord,” said the female Sith. “We thank you for your role in it. But now it must come to an end.”
Helpless and powerless, the eyes of the seventh heir could only watch on as the Sith swung their blades to shatter the bacta tank.
* * *
Across the stars, on the ancestral Jedi world of Tython, Kalon Sendor sat in his mother’s lap as they looked upon the burial site of his father, Varon Sendor.
The Jedi Council, in all of their kindness, had shown forgiveness towards Lysira Naris and her family and had allowed her to bury her husband here on Tython. She was grateful for their mercy, and for them allowing her and Kalon to live on Tython under their protection. But at the same time, she wasn’t sure where her destiny now lied.
Throughout her life, she had been either a Sith or a Dark Jedi, but never had she walked the path of light and been a Jedi herself. She doubted she was ready to walk that path. She probably never would be.
But Kalon, she knew, could still walk the path of a Jedi. Despite everything he had been through—perhaps, even, because of it—it was still not too late for him to purge the darkness that had plagued his bloodline for so long and restore honor to the name of Sendor. The Jedi Masters had already agreed to consider him for training, and she had the highest of hopes for him.
She knew it was what Varon would have wanted for him. It was what she wanted for him. She only hoped it was what he wanted as well.
Sighing wistfully, Lysira ran her fingers through her son’s hair. Kalon looked up, but it was not at her touch. She was none the wiser, as she could not hear nor see what he was reacting to.
Somewhere out there, among the stars that separated Tython from countless worlds, Kalon heard a scream.
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