The moment he shed the last shackles of his Jedi past gave Exar Kun immeasurable pleasure.
The battle in the Galactic Senate, where he had arrived to extract his wayward apprentice, who would betray him, right from an interrogation.
If only he'd known then...
Would have strangled him right when they met.
Though... Ulic Qel-Droma was useful.
For a time.
The black soul of Exar Kun was caressed by memories of how his appearance in the Senate ended.
Back then, he had managed to make all those worthless puppets — senators and the chancellor — silently watch as he demonstrated his power.
With Sith magic, he had subdued them all to his will.
Deprived them of the ability to move and resist.
Only to observe.
To watch as the chancellor, having become an obedient puppet, spoke Exar Kun's thoughts with his own mouth.
What a fun time it was…
Especially when the Jedi came, naively believing they could turn him away from the Dark Side.
Or strike him down…
Oh, the Force, how hilarious…
The finale of his appearance in the Senate is unforgettable.
Because he struck down Master Vodo.
He showed him his improved lightsaber.
Originally, Kun used a standard configuration — a hilt and one blade.
But before leaving Dantooine, when Master Vodo offered to spar with him, Kun picked up a second blade.
And he was very effective.
So, after thinking it over a bit, realizing that surprising a Jedi in battle was about as good as winning, he upgraded the hilt of his blade.
It remained standard length, but at the right moment he could extend a second blade from the back side.
A trick that allowed him to deal with Vodo-Siosk Baas, cutting through his useless staff and gutting the Krevaaki.
That's how it was. And no, Kun didn't pick at shrimp and drink beer afterward.
The old fool promised him they would meet in the future.
Well, well… So much time has passed, and that decrepit Jedi hasn't even shown up…
Then…
Many things happened after the attack on Coruscant.
Kun unleashed the Jedi who followed him, sending them across the galaxy to kill their Jedi masters.
Some succeeded, some didn't.
The strong handled it, the weak… they got what was coming.
Using deceit, he sent two of his unreliable subordinates into the Cron cluster, where, by causing a cataclysm, both of them died.
Meanwhile, he used the threat of total destruction of Ossus and infiltrated the planet to plunder the Great Jedi Library.
Even though he didn't manage to loot everything, he obtained enough Jedi treasures and artifacts to consider the raid successful.
It's a pity that pride and intoxication from success didn't let him notice in time that Ulic Qel-Droma, after striking down his brother, showed his weakling character and was captured by the Jedi.
It was this oversight that ultimately caused Kun to lose.
Qel-Droma, burdened by the shameful guilt of killing his weakling Jedi brother, repented of his chosen path as Exar Kun's apprentice.
The Mandalorian army he sent to conquer Onderon was defeated.
Qel-Droma himself was cut off from the Force — as punishment for what he did while serving Exar Kun.
His former lover did this to him, using such a ruthless weapon of the hypocritical Jedi as the Wall of Light.
Using the Force to create a wall of light-side energy was the Jedi's most destructive offensive ability.
The technique required collective effort to form a flow of Force that turned into an inescapable prison for adepts and manifestations of the Dark Side.
The more Jedi participated, the stronger the prison for the Sith.
Ulic Qel-Droma experienced this destructive power — a single Jedi woman was enough to deprive him of access to the Force.
And the collective power of thousands of Jedi…
Exar Kun knew about this weapon from the records he found on Ossus during his raid.
He had seen descriptions of this weapon's use.
Celestial bodies besieged by a wall of light underwent complete energetic sterilization by flames and powerful weather phenomena, while Dark Side users were completely blocked by the Force — all the way to total destruction.
Qel-Droma couldn't have been unaware of the consequences.
A broken, puny little man.
Who brought the Jedi forces to Yavin IV.
Thousands and thousands of Jedi.
Thousands and thousands of warships of all types and sizes.
Brought them so they could kill him.
Another page of history.
Exar Kun immediately understood that surrender was out of the question — despite all the Jedi's exhortations.
They came to kill him.
To capture him, such power, such numbers of Jedi weren't needed — only for the complete annihilation of him and his legacy.
But he still had a chance to escape.
He sent his loyal mutant into the secret catacombs to kill anyone who tried to enter the temple and stop him.
He summoned all the Massassi without exception, draining dry everything he could from the Golden Sphere, in which he had enclosed the souls of Massassi children, preparing for the most powerful ritual he could find in the ancient records.
And he succeeded.
He left the Jedi empty-handed before they could carry out their plan.
He abandoned his mortal body, freeing it with Sith secrets and artifacts, thanks to the ritual sacrifice of the entire Massassi people, who served him faithfully, destroying the strongest and fiercest warriors across the galaxy.
Oh, how he laughed when the Jedi brought all their Force down on Yavin IV, hoping to destroy him.
HIM!
The one who cheated death itself!
The one who killed millions upon millions without blinking, who unhesitatingly went for betrayal, tricks, and schemes to achieve his goals!
Fools!
They were, are, and always will be fools who can never, under any circumstances, compare to his power!
Even at the limits of their power, the Jedi feared him.
They feared his power…
And then darkness came again.
Exar Kun could almost feel his best years returning.
His black body stood out against the blackness that surrounded him.
The blackness into which that runt had cast him, the one who dared call himself a Sith!
He is nothing!
No one compared to him, Exar Kun, whom the ancient Marka Ragnos himself named the Dark Lord of the Sith!
With an effort of will, he released the Dark Side from within himself, accumulated through the numerous memories of his triumphs.
Now he stood again in the inner courtyard of his residence, pressed against the obsidian by Darth Deimos's back.
Rage consumed Kun.
He struck at the man's arm and easily freed himself.
Unleashing Force Lightning on him, Kun roared when Darth Deimos held out his palm and easily turned the continuation of the Dark Lord's rage into a ball of lightning.
"You're a dead man," Kun promised, concentrating the energy of all his Temples within himself.
His will is strong and great, just as it was the day he came to rule this world.
The power scattered across the moon was now flowing to him, making him stronger than anyone else currently standing with their lightsabers drawn.
A Togruta, a Korunnai, a Zabrak, a human, a woman with a nasty lizard looking at him with a victorious gaze…
"You will all fall prostrate before me!" Exar Kun's figure grew twice its normal size, so that the god could demonstrate his grandeur to these unworthy ones. "Or I will kill every one of you! And everyone you hold dear! And everyone dear to those you hold dear…"
"And those dear to those who are dear to those who are dear to us?" the Togruta inquired, twirling two lightsabers with snow-white blades in her hands. "You'd better finish what you started, instead of acting like a dishrag…"
A roar of rage tore from Exar Kun's throat before he brought down all his power on the fools before him.
* * *
"Please, have a seat, Master Zey," I gestured to the chair across the table.
The negotiation compartment was empty, except for the invited Jedi himself, Captain Pellaeon sitting to my left, and Grodin Tierce positioned to my right.
"Thank you, Grand Admiral," Master Zey said with a calm expression. "Honestly, I didn't think you would do me the honor of deigning to meet me in person."
"'Deigning'…" I repeated. "I don't think we should start the meeting with an obvious jab at your interlocutor, implying that he is showing you condescending favor."
"Still, you are the head of state," Zey smirked.
"And you are a representative of that part of the Jedi who call themselves Altisians," I reminded him.
"Honestly, I am not authorized to negotiate on behalf of the Altisians," Zey warned. "I am here only because I needed to find out the intentions of Clan Skirata — whether to join the Dominion or not."
"I understand," I nodded affirmatively. "You and your associates, among whom are many who were transferred to the Chu'unthor by Kal Skirata and his adopted sons, were concerned for your safety. Because if the Skiratas decided to join us, they could have given out the communication codes to your underground. And after that, finding your flying academy would not have been difficult. The security that Djinn Altis so carefully cultivated for his followers would have been compromised. Not knowing our true intentions, you feared that the invitation to join the Dominion would be a trap for the Altisians, aimed at continuing the extermination."
Arligan Zey looked me straight in the eyes.
And his face, which a second ago had been relaxed, now tensed beyond recognition.
"Oh, pardon me," I allowed myself a smile. "No one should know that there is a second Chu'unthor."
Zey did not react to the joke.
A play on words that the creator of the Altisian Jedi sect, Djinn Altis, used to confuse possible pursuers.
The fact is that Chu'unthor is the name of a Jedi flying academy, a spaceship that crashed on the surface of Dathomir many years ago, falling into territory controlled by the witches.
The old Order tried to pull the ship and the information about Jedi science from the crashed starship, but the witches fought back.
As a result, only two years ago, during the final defeat of Zsinj, Luke Skywalker ended up on Dathomir and managed to obtain those records, which he needed to restore the Jedi Order.
Djinn Altis obtained a ship of unknown design and modification for his charges, which he named exactly the same.
Logically, if someone not particularly bright found out about the Jedi on the Chu'unthor, they would fly to Dathomir.
Where the witches would clearly explain to the intruders that they had made a huge mistake.
"You have good intelligence, Grand Admiral," Zey said calmly.
"Thank you."
"In the past, I headed the Bureau of Special Operations of the Grand Army of the Republic," Zey said. "And I know what it's like to gather information that the other side intends to hide by any means. I take it your people are halfway to the Chu'unthor?"
"No," I replied. "We are not interested in capturing or other forceful actions against the Altisian Jedi, as long as they do not act against the Dominion or its citizens. I have a proposal for you and Djinn Altis."
"Is that so?" Arligan Zey became interested. "I take it you want us to join the Dominion?"
"I won't hide it — that would be the most optimal solution for my state," I admitted.
"You fear that we will join the New Republic or the Galactic Alliance," Zey stated, as it seemed to him.
The Empire, of course, is out of the question.
"I fear nothing, Master Zey. I simply don't want to create additional problems."
"Is that a threat?" Arligan narrowed his eyes.
"It's a warning," I clarified. "The Dominion is at war with the states you mentioned. Both of them seek to restore a Jedi Order that is subservient to the government. Accordingly, the new Jedi will also carry out tasks for their government. Given the negative attitude toward the Dominion, I suspect that strikes will be carried out against territory controlled by the Dominion as well. In that case, the Altisians, who were fleeing war, would become legitimate targets for my Jensaarai."
A deep shadow fell across Zey's face.
"And I was wondering if they survived the Empire's time," he said. "Now I see that they did… You want to create an Order that uses both Jedi and Sith knowledge."
"I want the Order of Jensaarai to be fully armed when it is necessary to defend the state," another clarification. "We have access to some relics of the past, including a holocron that was created over ten thousand years ago. A Jedi holocron. According to it, many of the techniques that the old Jedi Order considered Sith were actually used by Jedi of the past. And this knowledge made it possible to stop bloodshed across the galaxy in such a way as to prevent it from recurring for hundreds, if not thousands of years. Given that the Jensaarai Order is being created to protect the Dominion, the Order's leadership and I consider it necessary to implement effective techniques to ensure the Jensaarai's work."
"Militarism in the execution of the Jedi Order," Arligan Zey snorted. "I saw what happened when the Order becomes the head of armed forces. Thousands of our brothers were killed. Billions across the galaxy were destroyed, trillions lost their homes… The path of war is not the best solution for the Jedi. Sometimes it is necessary, yes, but creating an Order as a combat unit… That is not what the surviving Jedi should serve."
"Good that you mentioned the Clone Wars," I nodded to my thoughts. "Remind me, how long did a Sith rule the Republic, hiding right under the nose of the Order, which was only a pale shadow of its former self?"
Zey remained silent.
"In any case, the question of further coexistence is a matter of negotiations between the Dominion and the Altisian Jedi," I concluded, never taking my eyes off Zey.
"Hinting at negotiations?" he asked.
"Suggesting them," I clarified. "As far as I know, the Altisians very rarely participated in combat operations during the Clone Wars. Primarily, they were engaged in humanitarian and evacuation missions, which the Jedi Order turned a blind eye to. Many of your tenets are similar to what the Jensaarai live by. Our Order does not take children from their families, does not forbid marriage or hobbies, and allows a master to train more than one apprentice."
"Points of contact," Arligan Zey nodded.
"Ground that can be used for negotiations between the leadership of the Jensaarai Order and Djinn Altis," I explained. "For my part, I give my word that wherever and under whatever conditions the meeting occurs, the Dominion will not use force to attack. And certainly, we will not take any action to cause suffering or injury, let alone capture or kill those who come to the meeting and do not attempt to do the same to our delegation."
"An interesting choice of words," Zey chuckled. "You speak in a way that leaves yourself room to maneuver. Rephrasing, you are telling us: let's meet, talk, maybe we can agree on cooperation or neutrality. We won't attack anyone first, but if someone dares to do so — watch out."
"Glad you understood," I nodded. "Exactly."
Zey decides nothing and cannot speak for the Altisians.
It is completely pointless to try to recruit him specifically — he is a pragmatic man.
The dossier I have on him indicates that during the Clone Wars, he chafed at desk work, opposed the secret hunting of deserters by the clones of the Grand Army of the Republic, and generally did not get along well with certain members of the High Council.
At the same time, he worked quite comfortably with clone commandos, turning a blind eye to the misdeeds of subordinates that he considered justified.
For example, the Ubiqtorate believed that Zey, if not directly, then indirectly, covered for Skirata and his "Nulls," who during the Clone Wars acted on their own discretion.
Maybe that was the case, but I know that those very individuals did not like Zey.
And in thirty years, that dislike hadn't faded at all.
Zey is to serve as a messenger.
Only negotiations between Saarai-kaar and Djinn Altis will determine whether the Altisians will join us or not.
"You should probably prepare for a refusal," Zey said, as if reading my thoughts. "Altisians are not warriors. We are mostly peacekeepers. Not to mention that among us are many non-Jedi, but sentient beings who share our beliefs. Warriors — the kind you would want to lure in and put at the head of an army — there aren't that many of them."
"An army?" I clarified. "No, Master Zey, you misunderstand me. The defense of the state is not just about holding a lightsaber and fighting in the front lines. Yes, we have Jensaarai who fight on the surface and in space, but the main work of the Jensaarai right now is to provide all possible support to law enforcement agencies in fighting crime, smugglers, and saboteurs. The Jensaarai are deployed strictly in what they are strong at. Unfortunately, we do not have such a large staff in the Order to have as many specializations as the Jedi had: researchers, archaeologists, medics, detectives, cartographers, diplomats, philosophers, and so on. Over time, the Order will develop into something greater, when we have more Jensaarai and the range of their knowledge expands."
"Is that so," Zey squinted. "Very well… I will inform my associates of your words. I hope you will allow me to leave your ship on an untraceable transport, rather than insisting on delivering me to the Chu'unthor on your flagship?"
"I have absolutely no desire to act as a carrier," I agreed. "But before you leave us, I would like to ask something related to a certain Force technique."
Zey tensed noticeably.
"If it is within my power," he said, licking his teeth.
Of course.
Keeping secrets is sacred.
"From holocrons and archive records, we learned of a Force technique known as 'Essence Transfer,'" Zey paled but kept his composure. "As I have been informed, this is an ancient, very powerful technique, invented by the Sith. It allows one to transfer one's consciousness from one body to another, and even into inanimate objects."
"Possibly," Zey agreed after a moment. "I am not very familiar with Dark Side Force techniques."
"Is that so?" I feigned surprise. "It seems my judgments about the methods Djinn Altis teaches his followers are at odds with the facts. However, either you are not sufficiently informed, or you are being misled."
"What are you talking about?" Zey grew wary.
"This is only our intelligence data," I corrected the truth slightly. "But… Are you familiar with a Jedi named Callista Ming? Also known under the alias Callista Masana."
Not a single muscle moved on Zey's face, but I could tell from his eyes that he understood who I was talking about.
"After the defeat of the Jedi, Emperor Palpatine authorized the procedure to create a superweapon known as the 'Eye of Palpatine,'" I related. "Few people know, but two such — if you can call them that — ships were built. The 'Eye' and the 'Oculus.' Similar names were chosen solely to confuse anyone who got to the truth. It is somewhat reminiscent of the story with the two Chu'unthors."
Zey continued to remain silent.
"According to my data, one of these ships was supposed to destroy the Jedi refuge on the planet Belsavis," I continued. "But a group of Altisian Jedi, learning of this, launched an attack on the dreadnought. Ming was among them. Do you really not know her?"
"I've heard something," Arligan replied.
He surely realized that staying silent wouldn't work.
"After their sabotage, the 'Eye of Palpatine' disappeared and did not make contact," I continued. "Our specialists managed to learn more about its fate. The reason is not only that I am collecting what the Empire created for military purposes across the galaxy and putting it to the defense of the Dominion. But also because, as I suspect, using Sith technology, possibly 'Essence Transfer,' Emperor Palpatine managed to preserve his consciousness after death."
"Impossible!" Zey cried out.
"Unfortunately, it is so," I said, nodding to Tierce.
My adjutant rose without a word and handed the former Jedi a datapad with a connected information crystal.
"This device contains a recording made by my agent during an infiltration into the Deep Core," I explained. "You can see numerous warships in orbit of a world. Perhaps it is familiar to you — it is Byss, where the Emperor implemented a migration policy. Pay attention to the number of Star Destroyers and Super Star Destroyers at his disposal. The chip has brief explanations of what this is and how dangerous it is for the galaxy. In the last file — a recording of an audience with Emperor Palpatine," Zey immediately opened the indicated file. "As you can see, he is younger. Cloning and Sith magic."
Zey watched the recording for several minutes in complete silence, until he realized that the last file was deliberately cut off.
But he could not fail to recognize the man on the throne.
"Why are you telling me all this?" he asked, setting the datapad aside and looking at me from under his brows.
"To the point that, beyond what I have said, I ask you to convey to Djinn Altis that the Dominion is not the Empire. Neither a part of it, nor its supporter. Like you, we have our own path. And the Emperor clearly intends to hinder us in this. But allies in the fight against such a powerful enemy would certainly not hurt."
"Like the 'Eye of Palpatine,' isn't that right?" Arligan Zey asked. "Is that why you mentioned Callista? You want us to find this superweapon for you? Do you dream of having another big gun on your side?"
"I won't hide it — yes, I would like to put that dreadnought in the path of the Emperor's fleet's invasion," I said. "That is why I need it. As I have heard, among the Altisians there are those who are quite good with technology. They even 'talk' to it. At least that was the case during the Clone Wars."
Zey looked at Pellaeon.
Oh yes, he perfectly understood what I was hinting at.
"You are offering us cooperation, hinting that you won't put the Altisians on the front line, but at the same time you say we should find you this dreadnought, created to destroy Jedi?" he grimaced. "Where's the logic? You are contradicting yourself."
"Really?" I feigned surprise. "Oh, I understand your confusion. You see, I wasn't finished. Callista Ming, aka Callista Masana, according to my information, did not die aboard the 'Eye of Palpatine.' She used the Force to suppress the dreadnought's artificial intelligence and make it not respond to command signals. And she is still there," I gestured vaguely to the side, "in space. Through joint efforts, we can find the ship, convince the girl that the Dominion does not intend to use the 'Eye' for the preemptive destruction of anyone, especially Jedi and their children, and also return to the Altisians their faithful and brave friend."
"Her body is most likely already dead," Zey said, shaking his head. "There isn't a single possibility..."
He cut himself off, realizing he'd said something stupid.
"After my subordinates finish dealing with the ghost of the fallen Jedi known as Exar Kun, my course is Kamino," I explained. "The homeland of the Grand Army of the Republic. The place where the clones of Falon Grey and Galen Marek were created. The place where the best clonemakers in the galaxy live. And as it happens, I have information on how to stop the accelerated aging of clones. All I need is a cell. Something from which Callista's body can be restored—and to thank her for her service to the galaxy. And to the Jedi, first and foremost. I think you understand me."
"You're playing on our sense of camaraderie," Arligan Zey said after a few seconds of silence.
"I'm not playing," I warned. "I'm offering a choice. Whether you want it or not, the Eye of Palpatine will be found. Either this ship will serve in the defense of the Dominion, or it will be destroyed—but it will not fall to Palpatine or any other enemies of the Dominion. This principle applies to any superweapon, any ancient knowledge, and any opponent of the Dominion. Which side of the conflict you and the other Altisians want to be on is entirely your decision. Either option works for me."
* * *
The light, slanting in from outside, stretched the shadows across the inner courtyard of Exar Kun's Temple.
And because of it, the black figure of the five-meter-tall Sith Lord seemed even more ominous.
It was the spitting image of the statue looming beside it, with one significant exception.
It was not unleashing dozens of Force Lightning bolts, which Ahsoka Tano, Mace Windu, Darth Maul, and Darth Deimos were deflecting with the Force and their own lightsabers.
Only Isard stood silent, because the enemy's attacks were being repelled by an invisible field that pushed back the Force.
The ysalamiri in its cage looked around with a bored expression, as if the light show the ghost was putting on didn't interest it at all.
Not one bit.
Isard noticed that Thrawn was behaving just as calmly, regardless of everything.
No wonder his ysalamiri loved him—they probably perceived him as one of their own who'd decided to change color and bulk up.
Exar Kun stopped his attacks and turned his well-defined face toward Ysanne. It was black as pitch, as if cast from lava: high cheekbones, an arrogant gaze, a thin, cruel mouth.
Long black hair, pulled back into a thick ponytail, hung over his shoulder like coal-black threads. His body was covered in armor, and a pulsating tattoo blazed on his forehead—a black sun.
Black, clearly visible on black...
"Surely you've heard that from women often," Isard suggested, "but I'm curious: have you FINISHED already, or haven't you STARTED yet?"
The Togruta snorted with laughter.
Exar Kun splashed Force Lightning in all directions, but not a single bolt was aimed at his opponents.
He's angry.
He's furious.
Perfect.
The more emotion, the less attention.
"You are all worthless before me!"
"At least we don't need to compensate with giant buildings," Ta'no mocked.
"Fine," Kun said with feigned bravado, "Time to end this. I will destroy you all!"
"I've heard that before somewhere," Darth Deimos muttered, clenching his hand into a fist. "Not afraid you'll start whimpering like a little girl caught in a Wookiee ghetto at night when your time comes?"
"What are you babbling about, rabble?" Kun roared.
"Be careful," Isard said. "He's preparing something."
"For terror," Deimos said.
"You've already shown me everything you've got," Kun laughed. "You are nothing before me! My power..."
Ysanne reacted at the last moment.
Thanks to her trained body, she managed to dodge a chunk of black stone thrown at her.
The woman was saved, but the cage with the ysalamiri inside and the gravity platform were smashed against the nearest obsidian wall.
"Well, now you're defenseless," Kun grinned. "Your end is coming..."
Suddenly, darkness enveloped them all.
So impenetrable that the only source of light was... Exar Kun himself.
But not his black figure, which stood out clearly in the darkness in an incomprehensible way.
No, it was the figure of Exar Kun as he had been in life.
Tall, gaunt, with panicked eyes, a face distorted by a scream and terror.
Something was tearing him apart.
And Isard could swear the cause was fear.
Animalistic, indescribably powerful—the kind that chokes the throat from the inside, that makes you do thoughtless things.
The fear that drives you mad.
The fear that destroys.
The fear that, once experienced, you want to forget.
To banish to the farthest corners of memory.
And never recall.
And certainly never experience again.
"You remember this moment, Kun?" came the hollow voice of Darth Damon. "The moment of your triumph..."
"I won!"
"Oh, yes..." The Dreadlord spoke in a tone that could poison rivers and render entire continents uninhabitable. "You 'won'... Destroyed everyone who worshipped you... Rose to the top, and fell into the deepest abyss. You began your search for great knowledge alone—and in the end, you remained alone. Alone. Betrayed. Defiled. Defeated. Forgotten. I walked you through the corners of your memory, making you remember who you were. I showed you your greatness. Your moments of triumph. Your victories. I made you draw all your strength here. From the entire moon. Because you fear me. You understood what would be shown to you after Yavin burned from the Jedi attack. You tried to forget, but I found it. I pulled it out of the farthest corner of your memories. Where, in an ocean of hopelessness and loss of self, you spent hundreds of years after your 'victory.' Alone. Abandoned. Forgotten. NOT NEEDED. You woke from sleep when you were disturbed, and watched with envy as life was restored around you. You achieved power that Jedi never dreamed of, but you were helpless. You can destroy. You can subjugate. You can drive mad. But you can no longer return to the world of the living..."
"Liiiie!" Kun's hysterics battered the mind, forcing Isard to feel her knees hit the cobblestones.
Something viscous and warm trickled from her ears and nose.
Her temples were squeezed as if in a vise, and her eyes were about to pop out of their sockets.
Her mouth was dry, and her chest was so tight she couldn't even breathe...
She felt someone's hand on her back and gasped for air, like the smoke of a burning pyre.
"It will... be easier soon..." she heard the strained voice of the Togruta, who was clearly also struggling.
"Do you remember the loneliness, Kun?" The figure of the 'living' Sith Lord distorted, increasingly resembling a crumpled sheet of flimsi. "Do you remember realizing that your victory had deprived you of everything? Do you remember convincing yourself that your desperate decision was actually part of the plan? That you hadn't lost by becoming a hostage of this moon, but only went into hiding? Do you remember how, two years after your defeat, Ulic Qel-Droma—now a mere man, cut off from the Force—came to this moon? Do you remember how he tried to find something alive on Yavin IV? Anything that might matter? Do you remember how it happened?"
The darkness was illuminated by a burst of color.
A gaunt, sad-faced Ulic Qel-Droma wandered across the scorched desert that Yavin IV had become.
He visited one temple after another.
He examined piles of ash—once the dwellings of Massassi or lush forests.
He looked into caverns and hollows—once lakes, oceans, and rivers that carried life.
He wept at the sight of the countless bones littering the entire fourth moon of Yavin.
And in despair, he headed toward the Great Temple.
"Nothing remains here," Darth Deimos echoed Qel-Droma, who had dissolved into the darkness. "Nothing, Kun. You 'won.' But you gained nothing. On the contrary—you lost everything. You were the best of the Jedi. And you became just two lines in Jedi history. Even Darth Maul's lightsaber is not your legacy. It's an excellent weapon that felled hundreds of enemies. But your sword... No one even knows what became of it. Just a memory in the minds of Jedi: a double-bladed lightsaber... No one even remembers who created it. You are forgotten. You are nothing. You are just a pathetic shadow... And you realized that when Ulic Qel-Droma appeared here. You realized that everything I've just said are your own thoughts. The very ones you screamed into the darkness four thousand years ago..."
The colored version of Exar Kun suddenly came to life, and those present heard the plaintive, despairing cries and moans of a being that had realized the utter meaninglessness of its existence.
The colored version of Exar Kun shrank in size along with his pitiful howl fading.
The darkness surrounding them dissipated like mist.
The shadow of Exar Kun, now its normal size, stood with its head bowed.
A lightsaber ignited in Darth Deimos's hand, and a crimson streak of energy shot toward the black creature's chest.
Kun's shadow reacted, darting aside.
"You are pathetic," Deimos commented, twirling the weapon in his hand. "You are a coward."
"A disgrace to the Sith," confirmed Darth Maul, blocking the ghost's path and trying to strike it with his own blade.
"You can't defeat me with lightsabers!" Kun's voice was angry, but it lacked the strength it had before.
"Then," as he lunged away from the Darths, Mace Windu appeared in his path, attacking with a light-pike, "why are you running, 'almighty Dark Lord'?"
"So easily frightened?" Isard wondered.
"Another foolish woman," Kun said, turning to face her with his obsidian-colored face. "I will come for you. I will take your body..."
"You can't even take your own," Ta'no said, igniting her lightsabers and stepping in front of Isard. "You're so pathetic, so useless, so shortsighted that you still haven't asked yourself—how did we descend from above, where there's nothing? Nothing you can see. And nothing you can sense."
A look of astonishment crossed his black face.
Admittedly, Isard had missed that detail herself.
But she understood what was happening the second a camouflaged ship opened fire, shooting down the two-headed flying creatures rapidly approaching the Temple.
"Can't get away, can you?" Ta'no added. "The ysalamiri on board my friend's ship are bothering you? And we've got you pinned from all sides... Where is your strength now, Exar Kun? How narcissistic an idiot must you be that a guy who touched the Dark Side less than a month ago managed to take you on an emotional rollercoaster, make you absorb all your disgusting power from the entire planet, and then, with just words and your own memories, make you waste everything you summoned? Oh, don't expel me from the Jedi Order a second time, but I have to say it: even Vader was a better Sith than you, you pathetic imitation of a left hand!"
Isard understood that the Togruta was alluding to the culture of a people that considered the left upper limb "dirty" and the least necessary part of the body because it barely helped in life.
Kun's shadow contorted with rage, but he remained in place.
"You cannot threaten me." Kun unleashed Force Lightning, but all of it was deflected. "I... I am the Sith Lord!"
Kun burst into curses, and the inner courtyard was once again plunged into darkness, against which even the black figure was lost.
"We're not afraid of the dark," Ahsoka Tano said firmly, her blades no brighter than a dim lamp.
"You can't use my own tricks against me, Kun," Darth Deimos supported her.
The next moment, the darkness was cut by Force Lightning, no less bright or powerful than what Kun had projected when he was twice as large.
It struck the black body, and the darkness dissipated as the Force Ghost screamed in pain.
"You fell into darkness, fearing death," Darth Deimos said, approaching Kun, who lay on the cobblestones, knocked down by the Dreadlord's Force Lightning. "And you carried that fear through your entire life. And you use it in death. But I came to the Dark Side willingly. Not for personal gain. Not in search of knowledge. I took this step to kill. To avenge. To destroy what causes pain. I was born to instill fear in my enemies, to cultivate it, to fan it to the limit. I am the Dreadlord. I devour your fear, Exar Kun. I devour you. And the more your cowardly essence relies on fear, the stronger I become..."
Isard shuddered.
As much as she and the real Iceheart had endured in life, even she was shaken.
"Even all of you together are too weak to fight me!" the ghost said at the brink of hysteria. "It took a thousand Jedi all their power to seal me here! You cannot defeat me!"
"No one is going to seal you here, Exar Kun," Mace Windu said confidently. "We came to kill you."
The black ghost crawled backward across the cobblestones to the obsidian pyramid, pressing its back against it.
"And you're here, you ancient shrimp?" he cried.
Isard looked aside and saw a fourth figure joining the trio of killers.
A blue-white image of a Krevaaki man, holding an ordinary wooden staff across his chest.
A short, stooped figure.
Small eyes stared out from a ugly funnel-shaped face framed by tentacles, with brows projecting over them like a visor.
Isard recognized the ancient Jedi Master Vodo-Sioska Baas, who had appeared in Kun's memories.
"I promised you," the Jedi ghost said with visible effort. "We meet again. At the brink of your destruction. Exar Kun, my student—you are finally defeated. And I am the omen, the witness, and..."
"Oh, shut up," Ahsoka Tano said, flashing to the side and driving her right hand, glowing with crimson light, through the ghost's chest, causing it to dissolve into a blue-white haze that faded into the air. "No, would you look at that—what a terrifying monster, huh? First he dumps bantha poodoo on the whole galaxy, then he can't even die properly, and he sits around in the Force for four thousand years, not dripping into the descendants' brains that the student wasn't finished off! Oh, what a bastard!"
"Fully agreed," Mace Windu said unexpectedly, while the others stared in shock at what had happened. "It's time to get rid of him once and for all."
"No!" A loud, hysterical scream tore through the air, and the shadow darted within the square formed around it, searching for a breach.
But wherever it moved, it was met by Force Lightning or lightsabers.
Exar Kun growled, moaned, howled, and cursed everyone like a trapped animal.
Until Ahsoka Tano, surrounding herself with a red glow, rushed forward and grabbed him by the throat, pinning him to the obsidian wall.
"You talk too much," the Togruta said to his face, and her glow became unbearably bright.
Mace Windu, Isard, and Darth Maul shielded their eyes with their hands, while Darth Deimos approached his master and, radiating the same red light, drove his lightsaber into the Sith Lord.
The darkness recoiled from Exar Kun's shadow.
For a moment, his black figure took on faded outlines before crumbling into ash.
None of it reached the cobblestones, dissolving in the air.
Exar Kun disappeared, leaving only the echo of a pitiful cry from the defeated.
Isard felt that even the star of Yavin was shining warmer, and the oppressive aura of the Temple had vanished...
"It seems... we did it," she said uncertainly, looking at her four companions.
The Togruta smiled wearily, running a fingernail along the edge of her teeth.
"We should open a business for exorcising ancient parasites," she said in a weak voice. "Slow, expensive, but guaranteed."
No one answered her.
By Isard's estimate, everyone present was barely standing.
Time to get out of this hellish place.
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