Honest

Posted on Wed May 20th, 2026 @ 11:18pm by Bomoor Thort

3,429 words; about a 17 minute read

Chapter: Chapter IX: The First Verse
Location: Vault Room, Red Raptor, Docked at the Dunari's Delight Station, Mayagil Sector
Timeline: Day Ten, mid-day

The Red Raptor shuddered faintly as another repair arm locked into place outside, the vibration running through the deck plates like a distant heartbeat. Beyond the sealed bulkhead, the maintenance hangar still hummed with activity: welding torches, diagnostic pulses, the rhythmic clank of scaffolding being adjusted around the aged YX-1980 freighter. But inside the ship’s vault, the sound was muted to a low, steady thrum.

Bomoor stepped back from the doorway, having just sealed it closed. The vault was dim, lit only by the thin lighting strips along the ceiling and the soft glow of the cabinets lining the walls. Here, the air felt still; insulated from the chaos outside, as though the ship itself were holding its breath.

He crossed to the central table, where he had set the Telos Holocron atop a folded cloth. Its geometric facets caught the faint light in sharp, crystalline angles, each surface reflecting a different fragment of the room. Even dormant, it radiated a quiet gravity, as though aware of the attention it commanded.

Bomoor lowered himself onto a chair beside the table with a slow exhale. His muscles still ached from the previous day’s exertions and the emotional weight of the message from Thurius and Sotah lingered like a bruise beneath the surface. He had not slept well; too many thoughts, too many paths branching before him.

He reached out and placed both hands on the Holocron.

For a moment, nothing happened.

Then the vault lights dimmed, responding to the activation sequence. The Holocron pulsed once: a soft, deliberate glow, then unfolded with a whisper of shifting metal, its inner lattice rotating into alignment. Lines of pale energy traced themselves upward, coalescing into the translucent figure of a middle‑aged human man.

He wore simple, dignified robes. No armour. No mask. No theatrical menace.

His posture was relaxed, hands clasped behind his back. His expression was calm and almost kindly.

"Bomoor Thort," the Gatekeeper said, inclining his head with polite acknowledgement, "It seems you have finally decided to speak with me."

His voice was warm and measured; the tone of a man accustomed to negotiation, not domination. A Sith Lord who had built his legacy through understanding rather than fear.

He paced a slow half‑circle around the table, studying Bomoor with a thoughtful, appraising gaze.

"I have been intrigued by you and your relationship with Darth Serus,” Vectivus observed as he paced. "Your paths have been similar thus far: parallel lines, drawn close. Yet, when he felt the call to the Sith, you resisted. Not out of loyalty to the Jedi... but because you wish to take from the darkness without ever belonging to it."

He turned his head slightly, studying Bomoor with a mild, almost academic curiosity.

"You seek our knowledge. You seek our strength. You even seek our freedom - freedom from the dogma that once bound you."

A faint smile touched his lips.

"And yet you refuse the name. You refuse the mantle. You refuse the responsibility that comes with the power you now court."

Vectivus stopped directly before him, hands still folded behind his back.

"Tell me, Bomoor: why is it acceptable for Thane to become Serus but not for you to make a similar sacrifice?"

His tone remained gentle, but the question landed like a weight.

"You say you walk a middle path. A noble idea. But is it conviction... or fear?"

He leaned forward slightly, voice lowering.

"Speak honestly. You came to me for clarity. Let us begin there."

Bomoor inclined his head, half bowing to the ancient lord.

"Gatekeeper to Darth Vectivus," he acknowledged, still impressed that the very spectre he hoped to encounter had appeared to him at his beckoning as though it knew his will, "You seem to have a way of cutting right to the point."

He brought his long fingers up to his chin, feeling its firm folds as he considered the very questions he had been pondering.

"You are right to ask this question of me: Darth Krayt's gatekeeper was equally hesitant to divulge his knowledge to me before I committed to the path of the Sith but our discussions were nonetheless... illuminating."

He paused a moment, allowing his thoughts to crystallise before continuing, "I believe..." he started, still gathering the right words, "That the title of 'Sith' carries great meaning. It has a history that invokes fear in the Jedi, long scarred by ancient conflict, and reverence from those that know the depths of the journey of the early pioneers that broke away from the dogmatic rule of light. Yet, there were those before even the Sith that saw the power of the Dark Side and wielded it to their benefit: the Bogan Je'daii of Tython knew the strength of this power but they clashed with the Je'daii of Ashla, as the Sith clashed with the Jedi."

He released his chin and opened up his hands towards the diminutive projection of Vectivus.

"While the mantle of 'Sith' may suit Thane in his new persona as Darth Serus, I still hope to find a way to find a balance between dark and light. Where I might just as easily channel a healing aura as cast vicious lightning. The Living Force holds both the dark and the light; why can I not also tap into all aspects of the Force?"

Vectivus regarded him with a faint, almost sympathetic tilt of the head: "You speak of balance as though it were a stable thing," he said softly, "But balance is not a pool one may draw from. It is a tension one must constantly maintain... and tension always pulls."

He stepped to the side, hands still folded neatly behind his back, "You wish to wield healing and lightning with equal ease. A noble ambition. But when instinct takes hold, when fear, or anger, or love drives your hand, which will you reach for first? That is the truth you avoid."

A small, knowing smile touched his lips, "You admire Serus for his conviction. You trust him. Yet you refuse to make the same commitment he has made. Is that because you believe his path is wrong... or because you fear what it would reveal about you if you embraced it?"

Vectivus’ gaze sharpened, though his tone remained gentle.

"You reject the title of Sith. Very well. But titles are not the danger. Self‑deception is. So tell me, Bomoor Thort: what truth are you afraid to face?"

Bomoor leant back slightly, multiple images came to mind: his ruthless destruction of the Vaa-Thalda on the Caanan moon, his mother's face as she lay tied to the great Elenca tree, the sight of him tearing Voq apart in the aftermath...

Then, the calming image of him floating in the dark ocean of dreams, watching his mother float away from him.

He scrunched up his eyes and answered.

"I fear..." he began, the acknowledgement itself feeling like a muted failure, "Losing control... and with it, losing those I care for. I have seen how Thane has drifted from me, even with our Force Bond. I have seen how Amare longed for connection with him yet was cast away. I want to hold that power without casting people away. What good is indulging in our passions if we alienate those we love? I walk this path to protect those I hold dear - I do not want to become cold. I must resist so I can hold Thane back from the brink..."

The admission felt dirty to him, particularly given his renewed committal since Sleheyron. He wanted to trust Serus completely, yet he still found himself speaking words of doubt.

Vectivus regarded him with a softened expression, though not a sympathetic one - more like a physician hearing a familiar diagnosis.

"You fear losing control," he repeated quietly, "Yet control is not the opposite of passion, Bomoor. It is the product of understanding it."

He stepped to the side, "You speak of Serus drifting from you, of Amare cast aside. But that is their failing, not the failing of the dark side. Power does not sever bonds: people do, when they mistake power for isolation." His gaze sharpened, "You fear becoming cold... yet you hold yourself apart, even now. You deny a title, deny a path, deny a truth - all to avoid the possibility of becoming what you fear. Tell me: is that not its own kind of coldness?"

Vectivus leaned forward slightly, voice lowering, "You say you must hold back to hold Serus from the brink. But perhaps the real question is this: how can you guide him if you refuse to walk where he walks? How can you protect those you love if you fear the very strength required to do so?"

A flash of passion entered Bomoor's eyes, momentarily seeping into that clouded appearance that had haunted him since his recovery from Sleheyron.

"I do not know!" he answered sternly, then, slightly more muted, echoed, "I do not know..."

There was a pause, the dull sound of hammering and welding thrumming through the dense hull.

"That is why I sit before you now, Darth Vectivus," he admitted, plainly, "You do not speak of egomaniacal domination like the others. I wish to learn how to hold that strength, while still retaining who I am. I am a child of Ithor... of Öetrago... To me, life is sacred. If I have to kill the defenceless to achieve my goals, then I have already betrayed what I am. How do I hold a moral code, when the price is so heavy?"

Vectivus regarded him with a long, steady look; not pitying, not stern, but knowing.

"You fear losing control," he said softly, "Yet you speak as though control is something preserved by restraint. It is not. Control is forged by understanding your passions, not denying them."

He stepped closer, the faint hum of the Holocron casting shifting light across his features.

"You say you wish to protect those you love. Yet you hold yourself apart from them - from Serus, from Amare - because you fear what you might become. That distance you create? That is the coldness you dread. Not the dark side."

Vectivus’ tone lowered, almost gentle.

"You ask how to keep a moral code when the price is heavy. But morality is not preserved by hesitation. It is preserved by clarity. If you do not decide who you are, Bomoor Thort... the Force will decide for you. And you may not like the shape it chooses."

Bomoor found himself finally staring directly at the projection. At the image of the Sith Lord wearing his form fitting robe: the garb of a statesman, more so than a Lord of the Sith.

"I... understand..." the Ithorian answered finally, the firm realisation of what he stood to lose sinking into him, "You speak directly to what I seek to maintain: my sense of self. My sense of connection. I know that the Dark side is not my enemy and I do embrace it. But there was also strength in what I was before - in the power to heal and to calm. These things are beginning to feel distant and I wish to keep hold of them."

He had a sudden thought and unclipped his blade from his belt and place it on the table before him.

"Many years ago," he explained, "A Bival seer gave me the viridian crystal in the lightsaber you see before you. She said she had foreseen that I would not submit to the powers of the dark or the light. That I would break the galaxy, but also bring it into balance."

He let out a deep breath from both mouths, "I never quite understood what she meant but always hoped it inferred that one could step between the paths of the Dark and Light Sides. Vectivus' story also gave me hope that might be true."

He fixed his gaze on the dots of glowing light in the gatekeeper's eyes, "In your exploration of dark and light, did you ever see such a possibility? Or was it always just darkness dressed up in civility?"

Vectivus regarded the lightsaber on the table for a long moment, his expression unreadable.

"Prophecies are comfortable things," he said at last, "They allow us to believe our path was chosen for us - that destiny will excuse whatever choices we make along the way."

His gaze lifted back to Bomoor, "But balance is not bestowed. It is earned. And it is fragile."

He stepped closer, the Holocron’s glow sharpening the lines of his face.

"You ask whether I found a path between light and dark... or merely dressed darkness in civility." A faint, almost wry smile touched his lips, "The truth, Bomoor, is that I walked the path I chose. I held to my ethics because they served me not because the dark side demanded it. Darkness does not care whether you are kind or cruel. It only cares whether you are honest."

Vectivus’ tone softened, but the softness carried weight.

"So I will ask you this: are you truly seeking balance or are you seeking permission to remain who you were, even as you become something else? Because if you fear losing your healing, your calm, your compassion, then perhaps the danger is not that the dark side will take them from you..."

He paused, eyes narrowing just slightly, "Perhaps the danger is that you will let them go."

Bomoor froze in his seat a moment, not angry at the dismissal of the prophecy or at the demand he earn his way in the galaxy, but at the quiet, careful dismantling of the cage he had held himself within. The answer he had been speaking all this time: the Force does not decide what powers he taps into as it is not bound by concepts of dark of light. But his mind was.

Just like the corporeal restrictions of the mind made it hard to raise all five Muntuur boulders, so did the same restrictions make it hard to channel the light and the dark at once. It was difficult for mortal minds, yes, but it was possible.

He looked at his palms and allowed his mind to drift to the calming tides that brought forth the wellspring of healing that the likes of Masters Sotah and Olus channelled effortlessly and he soon felt himself bathing in that light once again. His eyes settled and darkened for a spell and his heart settled into the serenity of the temple gardens and the rolling hills of the Üssina grassland.

He held it for a moment and then opened his eyes, feeling the weight of the room collapse in once more. He then thought to try channelling a darker ability. He reached to the darker depths again and tried to summon lightning to his hands but he frowned as he found the path difficult. After such a moment of serenity, to delve into those darker places so rapidly was no small feat and he opened his eyes again sharply without summoning the power.

The image of Vectivus still remained before him, arms crossed and watching.

"The light is not lost to me," Bomoor said finally, "You have made it clear that the only way to lose them is to lose myself. But it is no easy feat to step between sides. I see why it might be easier to remain in one but I am glad I now understand it does not mean the death of one's self."

He cocked his head, his eyes betraying a glint of amusement, "Was that truly Darth Vectivus' lesson? Or have I merely discovered that by myself?"

Vectivus regarded him with a faint, almost approving incline of the head.

"You have not discovered my lesson, Bomoor," he said softly, "You have discovered your own capacity."

His gaze drifted briefly to the lightsaber on the table, "The Force did not deny you the light. You denied yourself the dark. And now you see that neither was ever beyond your reach."

He stepped closer, the projection sharpening so Bomoor could see the lines of his face.

"But do not mistake this moment for mastery. What you touched just now was possibility - not balance. You felt serenity, then reached for fury and found the transition difficult. That difficulty is not a flaw. It is the truth of your nature."

There was a pause, "The mind resists contradiction. The Force does not."

Vectivus held his pose in silence for a moment.

"So no - this was not my lesson. It was your first glimpse of the path you claim to seek. Whether it becomes balance... or merely darkness dressed in civility... will depend entirely on how honest you are willing to be with yourself."

Bomoor felt somewhat bolstered by the words and felt a confidence seep into him.

"So, you would not insist I take on the title of Sith? Remake myself with a new name as Thane did?"

Vectivus’ expression didn’t shift, but something in his posture eased, as though Bomoor had finally asked the right question.

"No," he said simply, "I would not insist on a title. Titles are tools. They shape how others see you... and how you see yourself. But they do not change what you are."

He stepped back, hands folding behind his back once more.

"Serus needed a new name because he needed a new self. You do not. Your struggle is not with identity, but with integration. You are not trying to become someone else: you are trying to become whole."

A faint, knowing smile touched his lips, "For such a person, a title would be a distraction, not a revelation."

Vectivus’ gaze sharpened, though his tone remained gentle, "So no, Bomoor Thort - I will not demand you call yourself Sith. But neither will I pretend that refusing the name absolves you of the choices you make. Walk your path without a title if you wish… but walk it honestly."

Bomoor nodded slowly, now looking at his lightsaber again and considering the prophecy. He thought about the other words spoken by the seer:

You will fight both tyranny and anarchy. Those around you may takes sides... and you... you must face friends who threaten the balance you represent.

It was true: most people would take sides and choose either the dark or the light. He would have to remain firm to his morals and face those who sought to topple his beliefs. Be they friend or foe.

"You have given me much to think about, Darth Vectivus," he spoke as his eyes still stared into the middle distance, "But I am pleased that you do not insist on assuming a title."

He slowly focussed back on the projection, "It served you well in your time and it will serve Serus well. I told him on the night of his anointing that I will carry the spirit of Thane with him where he cannot and I intend to honour that promise. Serus is bound to darkness - gaining strength from it, yes, but no longer able to be Thane. When he no longer needs that power, I hope I can return Thane to him. That is why I must walk this path - for myself and for him."

Vectivus regarded him with a long, steady look - not appraising now, but acknowledging, "Then you understand," he said softly, "Your path is not Serus’ path. Nor mine. Nor the Jedi’s. It is yours - shaped by your nature, your history, and the bonds you refuse to abandon."

He inclined his head, a gesture almost ceremonial, "To carry the spirit of Thane where Serus cannot... that is not weakness. It is purpose. And purpose is a far stronger anchor than any title."

A faint smile touched his lips, "If you walk this path for yourself and for him, then you will not lose who you are. You will only become more fully what you were always meant to be."

The Holocron’s light dimmed slightly, as though the Gatekeeper were withdrawing, "Hold to your standards, Bomoor Thort, though they may weigh heavy. Hold to your honesty. The Force will test you as will Serus and others besides. But if you remain true to the self you have reclaimed today, you will not falter."

With that, the Gatekeeper dissolved into darkness, leaving only the soft thrum of the ship and the quiet certainty of the path Bomoor had claimed.

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