Time marched forward with relentless indifference, no matter how much one yearned to pause and savor the roses, as the saying might go in a gentler galaxy.
It had been nearly a month since Jasea and her new Master had finished their impromptu lesson and made their way from the foul, swamp-drenched surface of Hutta, their boots caked with its rancid mire.
When they finally stepped aboard her Master's ship—a Fury-class Imperial interceptor christened Vibrant Crown—the transition was stark. The vessel gleamed with sleek, obsidian-hued durasteel, its angular frame adorned with crimson accents that pulsed like veins of lava, a testament to Sith pride. Its interior hummed with the low thrum of hyperdrive engines, the air sharp with the scent of polished metal and the faint tang of ozone.
Her Master, whose name she had recently learned, was Nyâsh'hyal—a title from the ancient Sith tongue, meaning something akin to "eternal seeker" or "forever craving," as he had explained with a glint of pride. He had been unyielding in his insistence that her education under his tutelage would feature ur-Kittât, or Sithese as the modern Sith dubbed it. "It is an integral part of your education," he had intoned, his voice a low rumble that carried the weight, "not only for the cultural connotations as it is the view of many that only those of the Sith that venture deep into the secrets of the darkside put effort into learning, but for more practical reasons, as much of the old artifacts and places of ancient Sith power are inscribed with the runes of the language."
She was more than happy to learn, her mind eager for the lessons Nyâsh'hyal offered. Her education had so far only focused on philosophy, conceptual tactics, and discussions of the Sith Code, which he said was standard for a new acolyte's first month if done right. From what Jasea had gathered from what her Master had left unsaid was that a vast majority of the acolytes did not learn what he considered the right way. Thankfully, That phase was nearing its end, and she was itching to dive into the dark side's true power.
Before the Jasea could continue with her musings, the beeping of the Vibrant Crown's holocom cut through the ship's hum, its incessant beeping ricocheting across the interior of the hull.
As Jasea rose from her bunk, where she had been idling in restless thought, the steady strides of Nyâsh'hyal echoed from his quarters, a rhythmic beat that stirred the air with his presence through the Force.
She moved swiftly to lean against the wall near her doorway, the cold durasteel pressing against her exposed lower back.
Her wardrobe had transformed markedly since Hutta, thanks to the modest allowance her Master provided for her, something he insisted was necessary. The bland Jedi robes were discarded, replaced today by one of her favorite outfits: a wrap-like top that had a deep hood attached at the back. They were coloured in a vibrant magenta hue that covered her chest but left her midriff bare, paired with a half robe of dark grey flowing with tassels, accented with purples echoing Nyâsh'hyal's lightning and golds reminiscent of his jewelry. She had tried to assemble an outfit that would mock the Jedi and their dull robes. Underneath her lower robe, she wore black durafiber weave combat boots he Master had recommended, their plastioid reinforcement adding a pricey edge of durability.
Her red-skinned Master stepped before the holocom console, offering Jasea an absent nod of acknowledgment before activating the call. A middle-aged human male materialized in the holocom's blue haze, his Imperial uniform marking him as navy, a detail Jasea recalled from her studies of the Empire's hierarchy. A flicker of recognition crossed Nyâsh'hyal's face, his yellow eyes narrowing slightly.
"Captain Orzik, this is quite a surprise," he intoned, his voice a blend of curiosity and command.
The now-identified Captain gave a small bow, a gesture Jasea had seen Lieutenant Quinn offer her Master, a sign of respect etched in Imperial protocol.
"I imagine it is, my lord. In truth, after the events aboard the Black Talon, I had expected to be court-martialed or otherwise disposed of due to my disobedience. Instead, I have found myself promoted due to my small part in capturing the General and crippling the Brental Star. I am now a Commodore."
Nyâsh'hyal gave a measured nod, his lips curling slightly. "You have my congratulations, Commodore Orzik. It was a well-earned promotion."
The human shook his head, humility tempering his tone. "Perhaps I had a small part in the operation, but it was you, my lord, that defended the Black Talon from boarders. It was you that infiltrated the Brental Star, cut a swath through the troopers aboard, killed a Jedi, and captured the traitor."
Her lord let out a chuckle of mirth, the sound rich yet edged with intent. "I thank you for boosting my ego so effortlessly, Commodore, but I doubt you holocalled to lay praise at my feet." His words carried an unasked question, a subtle probe laced with the weight of the Force.
The Commodore gave a crisp nod, his posture rigid with military precision. "Indeed, you see the truth of it, my lord. With my promotion, I have also been awarded command of a Terminus-class destroyer fresh off the assembly line. I have yet to name the vessel or even take it on its maiden voyage. If it pleases you, my lord, I would invite yourselves and any you deem, to join me on its first flight."
Her lord fell silent for a few moments, his red-skinned features still as stone, yet he was far from quiet in the Force. Jasea felt an immense wave of dark side energy radiate from him, a torrent of raw power that crashed against her senses, thick with intent and purpose she could not immediately discern. It felt as if a great ocean was pressing down on her, trying to sweep her up and crash her against the shore. Before she could reach and probe its depths to attempt to discern its meaning, the wave vanished, leaving only a lingering echo in the air.
The Commodore shuffled with nervous energy before he finally gained a reply. "Yes," Nyâsh'hyal said at last, his voice quiet, almost contemplative. "Yes, that would indeed please me greatly." His tone strengthened, a firm resolve settling into his words, the Force humming with an intensity Jasea couldn't place.
Orzik visibly let out the breath he had been holding, a sigh of relief escaping as he offered a grateful bow of his head. "Very good, my lord. We are currently still docked at the drydock orbiting Dromund Kaas. I will have a squad of troopers 0
awaiting your arrival in the main atrium."
Her Master nodded, his red-skinned features set with purpose. "We will be there shortly, Commodore." Orzik gave a curt nod before disconnecting the call, the holocom's blue haze fading into silence.
"Shall I set the course, my lord?" Jasea turned her head toward the voice of Lieutenant Quinn, which echoed from just outside the doorway leading to the cockpit.
He had stepped into view at some point during the call, his posture rigid, likely sensing the Force wave Nyâsh'hyal had unleashed. From what she had gathered, even those considered Force-blind could feel the ripple when its users wielded it with such magnitude.
Nyâsh'hyal gave a nod, his volcanic yellow eyes acknowledging the Imperial soldier with a flicker of approval. "Indeed, Lieutenant. Set the course."
The Imperial gave a small bow. "Right away, my lord," he replied, turning briskly to obey.
Her lord spun toward the cargo hold, his light black open robe flaring upward with the motion like a shadow unfurling, revealing a glimpse of the bare crimson skin corded with muscle. His voice rang out with a tone of authority that trailed off into the air, sharp yet fading. "Come, Jasea."
Jasea couldn't quite contain the shiver that raced down her spine as her name rolled from her Master's lips, a thrill laced with the weight of his power, stirring the Force within her. In the privacy of her own mind, she admitted that Nyâsh'hyal exuded a raw sex appeal—his toned physique, sharp intellect, and immense dark side aura wielded as naturally as breathing, a potent blend that tugged at her.
Jasea took a deep breath, pushing off the wall to steady herself against the sensation of her Master's presence and the wayward thoughts it sparked. Steeling her resolve, she moved to follow him swiftly, her steps quickening with a mix of anticipation, obedience and desire.
When they entered the cargo hold, she couldn't help but admire how her Master had transformed the space.
A durasteel wall bisected the room, carving it into two distinct realms. On one side, a stark arena used for combat training: a rack of training sabers and vibroblades mounted on the wall, a deactivated training droid stood silently in the corner, its primary use for lightsaber practice enhanced by an insulated cortosis frame that allowed for the more destructive Force abilities. Several blasters—pistols and rifles—were mounted beside the sabers. The Lieutenant did not train often, but her lord insisted these tools of his trade remain available for his use.
On the other side, the contrast was striking. Luxurious red carpet cushioned the floor, softening the durasteel beneath, while one wall bore shelves laden with scrolls, holobooks of flimsiplast, and datapads. The knowledge spanned a vast spectrum: significant texts on the dark side, Sith historical records, and the Force's mysteries, as expected, but what surprised Jasea were the mundane tomes—economic treaties, datapads on naval war doctrines from diverse eras, and a ponderous scroll detailing the beasts and fauna believed to have once roamed Coruscant in ancient times, before it became the ecumenopolis it is today. The variety hinted at what she had come to learn about Nyâsh'hyal; he valued knowledge of all kinds.
The other wall displayed shelves of artifacts that reeked of the dark side to her senses, their aura a palpable weight that tugged at the Force within her, stirring a mix of awe and unease. Among them stood a ritual knife once wielded by a Kansi priest, a relic of the caste that had once led the Sith species, its blade etched with the scars of ancient rites. Beside it hung a mask adorned with runes that pulsed with a faint purple energy, its surface alive with the echoes of forgotten power. A stone tablet, inscribed with ancient Kittât runes, detailed a war against conquerors from the stars, its weathered surface a silent testament to a bygone struggle, the Force humming through it that if she focused it felt as it whispered a battle cry.
In the center of the space stood two sphere-like meditation lounges, made from soft, rich purple fabrics that draped comfortably, their curves designed for relaxation, reading, and meditation. The plush surface felt inviting and decadent. When she had first arrived, there had only been one but her Master had made a detour to the Imperial Trade Fleet to ensure that their lessons were done in comfort.
She couldn't imagine a better place to learn in the entire galaxy.
Nyâsh'hyal sank into his meditation lounge with the poise of a noble, a grace that befitted his rank, earned when his Master, Darth Baras, elevated him to Sith Lord after slaying Noman Karr and claiming Jasea as his apprentice.
She mirrored him, settling into her own seat, a question already bubbling on her lips."This Orzik, what is the story, Master? Sounds like an exciting tale."
His lips crinkled upward in a small smirk, a flicker of amusement dancing in his yellow eyes. "Yes, I suppose it
does."
Jasea couldn't contain the roll of her eyes, a spark of exasperation breaking through. "Will you grace me with the tale, oh mighty lord?" Her tone dripped with snark and feigned fear, a playful challenge that she had come to understand her Master enjoyed from a time to time.
A mirth-filled chuckle rumbled from Nyâsh'hyal. "Of course, young supplicant." He cleared his throat before continuing, his voice steadying into a tale. "After I graduated from the Sith Academy on Korriban, I was bid by Darth Baras to meet him on Dromund Kaas to begin my apprenticeship. I decided to travel aboard the Black Talon, a private Imperial transport, which Orzik captained, to my destination rather than more public transport. It was supposed to be a quick trip where I lounged in the VIP quarters, basking in the decadence my rank afforded me." He added a small wink, a rare flash of levity in his usual serious demeanor.
Jasea tried but failed to contain the small giggle that slipped from her mouth, the sound echoing the fact that she was still a young woman underneath the robes.
Her Master's lips curved into a small smile of victory before he pressed on. "So imagine my surprise when I was press-ganged into the service of 'The Butcher of Coruscant' himself: Moff Rycus Kilran."
Jasea raised a groomed eyebrow—she had heard of Moff Kilran, a name that echoed through the galaxy as one of the most infamous non-Force-users, a figure of ruthless violence that many Sith Lords failed to replicate.
"I was charged to commandeer the Black Talon as the captain had disobeyed a direct order to attack the Brental Star, a Republic warship. It was understandable, if somewhat foolish, why Orzik disregarded the Moff's orders—his ship was merely an armed transport, a move tantamount to suicide in almost any circumstance."
An arrogant smile grew on the Sith's lips, his volcanic eyes glinting with pride. "But I am Sith, and a Sith is a force multiplier like no other," he declared with confidence.
"You obviously did not kill him as I imagine the Moff expected," Jasea ventured, her voice tinged with curiosity.
He gave a nod, his red-skinned features calm. "Indeed, my apprentice. The Moff had expected me to act as is the norm for most Sith. I, however, saw that as a great waste. I could sense that Orzik was a talented man who would only aid the operation. When I looked at him with my Shatterpoint, I could 'see' that he could be so much more than some officer to simply be thrown away like yesterday's garbage. So, I spared him and instead convinced him that with my skills, we would be victorious despite the odds stacked against us."
"Shatterpoint showed you what to say?" Jasea asked, her tone eager to grasp the mystery of her Master's gift. At times Shatterpoint could sound so much like her own gift. Other times, it could sound so much more encompassing.
Her Master responded with a shake of the head, his sharp yellow eyes steady. "Not precisely. As I have said in the past, our gifts differ one from another. Your gift allows you to read the core of a being, a language of the soul if you will, and then you translate into words if you wish to speak on what you have seen. Mine, however, is akin to reading hieroglyphics and runes of many different kinds scrawled across one another. It can be done, but it takes patience, discipline, and drive to understand. What I could see with Shatterpoint was a man of duty who sacrificed for those he owed loyalty to. I saw that by sparing his life, I would gain far more in the future than I would lose."
Jasea gave a nod, though she still didn't truly grasp the layers of complexity woven into an ability like Shatterpoint, its depths eluding her despite her effort. In truth, she admitted to herself, she hadn't fully unlocked the potential of her own gift, its depths still unexplored.
"I was proven right about Orzik," Nyâsh'hyal continued, his voice threaded with satisfaction, "as at several junctures throughout the operation, his knowledge and leadership helped mitigate the damage the Republic inflicted. By the end, on the Empire's side we had perhaps a dozen or so casualties, whereas the Republic lost their ship, hundreds of troops and droids, a Jedi, and their passenger—a defecting Imperial General. Moff Kilran was most pleased." His eyes glinted with a quiet triumph.
After that, it was a quick and quiet journey to Dromund Kaas," Nyâsh'hyal concluded, his tone settling into a calm recollection. "As exciting as you had hoped my Apprentice?"
Jasea gave a small mischievous smile as she replied, "Your skills as a storyteller could use some refinement, my lord," her words laced with playful challenge before he could respond. She pressed on, asking another question, her voice tinged with curiosity as she leaned forward slightly. "Do you believe that his invitation is what you saw with your Shatterpoint?"
He nodded, his red-skinned features resolute. "Yes, I have no doubt. During the call, I'm quite sure that you felt my probing into the Force. I found the thread connecting myself and Commodore Orzik now maturing."
Her Master gave a shake of his head, his pulsing yellow eyes narrowing slightly. "This was not why I bid you here. We are to talk about your training."
Jasea couldn't contain the excitement that shot through the Force, a pulse that betrayed her eagerness—finally, she would delve into the practical depths of the dark side, her anticipation a living current.
Her Master gave a nod of confirmation, his red-skinned features softening with approval. "Yes, your feelings are correct. You have done well to learn the intricacies of my lessons. I know at times, it feels like I have taught you knowledge that could be considered unnecessary, but Châts nyâshajakut midwan."
All knowledge provides power.
"Midwanjontû châtsatul nu asha," the words from the Sith Code flowed freely from Jasea's lips, their harsh Ur-Kittât cadence a natural extension of her growing mastery of the dark side. Power and victory intertwined so intimately, the phrase resonated in the Force.
A grin of pride bloomed across Nyâsh'hyal's face, his eyes gleaming with approval. "Indeed, my Apprentice. Indeed. You have learned well. Now that you have successfully completed the introductory stage of your training, you may know the challenges you are to face."
Jasea stood straighter, pride radiating from her every pore, a quiet strength surging through the Force as she sat ready to embrace what was to come.
"We will of course begin the development of how you wish to harness the dark side," he continued, his tone firm. "However, there will be several more milestones you will need to meet before it can become your sole focus."
He raised a finger, his gesture deliberate. "First, you need a new weapon. Your current lightsaber is that of a weak Jedi Padawan. You are no longer that girl. You are to become a Sith."
The young woman nodded, her resolve hardening. That girl was dead. Better to bury the weapon with her.
He raised another finger, his gaze intensifying. "Second, you will be bloodied. Some acolytes are sent to dangerous planets and are only retrieved when they kill something that would send a shock wave through the Force. Others are pitted against already established Apprentices in an effort to take their position. I have something more in line with the former than the latter."
He raised a third finger, his voice lowering with gravitas. "Third and last, you will face yourself as you once did on Tatooine. My family once were the caretakers of a Nexus of the Dark Side on the surface of Korriban. You will do as I did and my forefathers before me have done."
Her Master lowered his raised hand, peering at her deeply with those volcanic yellow eyes she had come to adore, their molten gaze piercing her soul. The Force pressed down on her, a heavy, unspoken challenge that tested her resolve like a vibroblade scrapping against durasteel.
Squaring her back, she sat tall and proud, her posture a defiant stand against the weight. She would not falter. She would not break. She was ready to be Sith.