Wanda's mind churned with questions. She crossed her arms, leaning against the council table. "If Gethzerion is so dangerous, why didn't Zalem ever seek her out? As an ally or an enemy?"
"Because Zalem feared her." Rose Lai's answer came quick and certain. "My mother craved power, but she wasn't stupid. If she'd succeeded in her ritual, absorbed all that stolen strength, she might have tried to kill Gethzerion. Eliminate a potential rival before she became a threat."
The three clan leaders nodded in agreement.
"Where was she during all of this?" Wanda pressed. "During Zalem's reign of terror, where was Gethzerion?"
"Imprisoned," Kamina said. "In an ancient valley on the far side of the planet. Wards placed by our ancestors kept her contained for centuries."
"Kept," Wanda repeated. "Past tense."
"We believe your battle with Zalem weakened the barriers." Ogwen's expression was troubled. "The amount of power you and Zalem threw at each other—it resonated across the entire planet. Disrupted old magicks. Shattered seals that should have held forever."
Guilt twisted in Wanda's stomach. "So by stopping one monster, I freed another."
"You couldn't have known," Rose said firmly. "And we'd rather deal with Gethzerion than live under my mother's rule."
Small comfort.
"Does she have followers?" Wanda asked. "People who'd help her now that she's free?"
"Undoubtedly." Ogwen's voice carried the weight of certainty. "Evil always attracts the foolish, the desperate, the twisted. Those who believe power justifies any atrocity."
"Like my mother's remaining loyalists," Rose muttered darkly.
Wanda sighed, rubbing her temples. A headache was building behind her eyes—stress, probably, or the beginning of magical exhaustion. "It's always like this. Defeat one threat and another rises to take its place."
"Last time you faced Zalem with almost no allies." Ogwen moved closer, determination etched into every line of her face. "This time, my clan stands with you. Rose's people as well. We fight together."
The unity sounded wonderful. Too wonderful.
Wanda had learned to be suspicious of easy solutions.
"What about the other clans?" she asked. "The ones not represented here?"
Rose grimaced. "That's the complication. Some may be neutral. Some may even side with Gethzerion if they think it'll benefit them."
"Division weakens us," Astrinno said. "But at least our four clans can present a united front. That's better than facing this alone."
"I'll inform Mother Talzin," Wanda said. "She'll want to know about this. And she might be able to rally the Nightsisters to your cause."
Her eyes found Ogwen's. The eldest among them. The one who seemed to understand the stakes most deeply.
"Why do this?" Wanda asked quietly. "Why risk your people against something this dangerous?"
Ogwen's expression became steel. "Because compromising with evil, even once, even slightly, lets it grow stronger. That is the oldest law of my clan. The foundation upon which we built ourselves."
She straightened, and in that moment looked less like a woman and more like a force of nature.
"Gethzerion should have been destroyed permanently. Our ancestors tried to imprison her instead, and that mercy has brought her back. If we don't act now—decisively, completely—she'll only grow more powerful." Ogwen's voice dropped. "This is our chance to save Dathomir. To atone for our inaction against Zalem by ensuring we don't make the same mistake twice."
Wanda held her gaze. Saw no deception there. No hidden agenda. Just conviction forged through centuries of her clan's history.
Slowly, Wanda smiled. "Then tell me how we start."
Far from the council chambers and political alliances, in Mother Talzin's domain, a very different kind of preparation was underway.
Asajj Ventress stood in the ritual chamber, arms crossed, watching her latest acquisition with critical eyes.
Savage Opress.
The Nightbrother towered over her—easily two meters tall, built like he'd been carved from stone. Yellow eyes stared back at her with barely restrained aggression. He'd passed her tests. Even sacrificed himself to protect his younger brother during the trials, which had surprised her.
Selflessness wasn't a trait she associated with potential Sith apprentices.
But that selflessness could be useful. Could be weaponized if applied correctly.
The problem was everything else.
Savage was a warrior. Brutal, efficient, skilled with both fists and weapons. But beyond that? Limited. His connection to the Force was so faint Asajj could barely sense it—a flicker where there should have been a flame.
He was strong, yes. Dangerous, certainly. But he wasn't Maul. Wasn't anywhere close to the level Dooku would need to present to Sidious as a legitimate replacement for Asajj.
Fortunately, Mother Talzin specialized in transformation.
"Did you find him, Asajj?" Talzin emerged from the shadows, green mist trailing from her robes like living things.
"Yes ," Asajj replied. "Savage Opress. He won the trials."
Talzin circled him slowly, predatory. Her gnarled hands reached out, pressed against his chest. Power—ancient, dark, hungry—pulsed from her fingers into his body. Savage's eyes widened but he held still, instinct warning him that movement would be dangerous.
"Magnificent," Talzin breathed. "Such raw physical perfection. The galaxy has gifted us well."
Savage sneered down at her, all bravado and barely controlled violence.
Talzin sneered back.
Then she tapped his forehead.
Savage's eyes rolled back. He collapsed like a puppet with cut strings. Two Nightsisters caught him before he hit the floor, dragged him to the altar in the chamber's center.
"Begin the ritual," Talzin commanded.
The assembled sisters moved into position, forming a circle around the altar. Their voices rose in unison, chanting in the old tongue—words that predated the Republic, that carried power in their very syllables:
"Strength of stone, the gods provide,
Life of lightning, war's rising tide,
Fire of blood, fury's endless call,
Steel of will—to Asajj, Dooku, thrall!"
Green mist erupted from the floor, from the walls, from the very air itself. It wrapped around Savage's unconscious form like serpents, seeping into his skin, his mouth, his eyes.
He began to float.
The chanting intensified. "Stone—Lightning—Fury—Thrall! Stone—Lightning—Fury—Thrall!"
Asajj watched, transfixed and horrified in equal measure. This was Nightsister magick at its most primal. Most dangerous. Talzin wasn't just enhancing Savage—she was remaking him on a fundamental level.
The mist burned brighter. Savage's body convulsed, back arching, muscles spasming. His skin rippled like water as power forced itself into every cell.
He was growing.
Bones lengthened with audible cracks. Muscles swelled, rearranging themselves into configurations that defied natural biology. The horns on his head extended, sharpened, became weapons in their own right.
And through it all, the Force—
Asajj felt it. That faint flicker she'd sensed before exploded into a roaring inferno. Raw. Undisciplined. But powerful in a way that made her take an involuntary step backward.
The chanting reached a crescendo. "THRALL TO ASAJJ! THRALL TO DOOKU!"
The light flared once, blinding—
Then died.
Savage hung in the air for one heartbeat, two, then settled back onto the altar with a heavy thud that cracked the stone beneath him.
Silence crashed down.
Mother Talzin approached, placed two fingers against his forehead. "Sisters, he is ready."
Savage's eyes opened.
Yellow. Blazing with power and madness and something that might have been pain but looked more like rage.
His hand shot out faster than Asajj could react. Fingers closed around her throat, crushing, choking—
"Let—me—go!" The words came out strangled.
"SAVAGE." Talzin's voice cracked like a whip. "Release her."
The grip loosened immediately. Savage's hand fell away.
Asajj stumbled back, gasping, one hand massaging her bruised throat. When she could breathe again, she glared at the monster they'd created. "Control. You need to teach him control."
"He is a weapon, not a diplomat." Talzin's smile was sharp. "But yes, some refinement is necessary before we present him to Count Dooku."
Savage sat up slowly, staring at his hands like they belonged to someone else. Which, in a way, they did. He was no longer the Nightbrother who'd entered this chamber.
He was something new. Something other.
A monster forged from dark magick and darker purpose.
"Time is short," Asajj said, her voice still raspy. "We need to introduce him to Dooku soon. Before Sidious grows suspicious."
"Agreed." Talzin moved to stand beside Savage, one hand on his massive shoulder. "But first, we test him. Ensure the transformation is stable. That his loyalty is absolute."
Savage's yellow eyes found Asajj. Something flickered in their depths—recognition, perhaps. Or resentment.
She met his gaze without flinching. "You belong to us now. To me and Count Dooku. Your will is ours. Do you understand?"
Savage's jaw worked. For a moment, Asajj thought he might refuse. Might break the conditioning through sheer stubbornness.
Then he bowed his head. "Yes... mistress."
The word felt wrong coming from him. Too submissive for someone radiating such violence.
But it would do.
For now.
"Excellent." Talzin's smile widened. "Then let us begin your true training. You have much to learn if you're to fool the most powerful Sith in the galaxy."
Savage rose from the altar, towering over everyone in the chamber. His presence pressed down like a physical weight, Force-enhanced strength barely contained beneath skin that still smoked faintly from the transformation.
Asajj studied their creation and felt a cold certainty settle in her bones.
They'd made a weapon, yes.
But weapons had a tendency to cut their wielders if handled carelessly.
And Savage Opress, she suspected, would require very careful handling indeed.