The Temple of XoXaan

Posted on Mon Jan 28th, 2019 @ 6:36am by Thane & Bomoor Thort & Amare

2,504 words; about a 13 minute read

Chapter: Chapter V: Unbound
Location: Entrance to XoXaan's Temple, Korriban
Timeline: 0140 Hours (Local Time), Day Two (After "Qotsisajak")

OLD

Bomoor came up beside Thane and rested his own hand upon the metal so that the pair stood together, side by side, against this entrance of darkness. They felt the hushed overlapping whisperings of the Sith once again, but their power together allowed them clairvoyance.

“You must declare yourself to open the doorway,” Bomoor stated, knowing Thane could feel the words too, “Who comes to seek entry into XoXaan's Temple?”

Thane's eyes lifted slowly away from Bomoor's, entranced as the young man had been with his friend's own declarations and words. Looking now to the heavy portal into the ancient domain of the antecedent Dark Lords, Thane felt his core swelling with both confidence and pride, the sublime majesty of the dark side coursing through him as that singular word found its way to the fore.

"Serus."

NEW

Generations ago, XoXaan’s Temple was a central pillar for an empire of Sith that stretched out across the Galaxy. It was one of the few times in history where the Sith ruled openly and acolytes of the Sith were trained from birth in the strict hierarchy of the Rule of One.

These hallways would have seen countless Sith pass through it in those days, but now only one strode down its unlit stone passageways, alongside a silent guest and observer, who was neither Jedi nor Sith. They walked together as something new: a rejection of all the ideals that bound them to something lesser than themselves and a willingness to remake their galaxy into something better than any of their Force-wielding predecessors had ever done.

The heavy metal doorway they had passed through to enter the temple slowly eased itself closed, through some unseen mechanism and what little light had dared enter the ancient structure from the crumbling antechamber was cut out. The pair walked on for a moment in darkness, feeling their way forwards through senses that would be alien to those not touched by the Force before they began to feel the walls react to their presence and trigger some reaction deep within them.

Ahead, in what appeared to be a small alcove, a light appeared; then another flickered into being a little further along, beginning a chain of beacon lights igniting themselves before the visitors. Their action did not surprise the pair, as objects and places touched by those strong in the Force could often retain some powers that resurfaced when new Force-users drew near.

If anyone had managed to step foot here in the last few centuries, they would have been mute to the Force and so XoXaan’s Temple would have been mute to them. If what the lone Sith and his partner sought was here, then only they possessed the power to retrieve it.

Their way now lit by these small beacons of light, they found their way to a central stairwell, which they appeared to be at the bottom of. In the centre of the room was a bipyramidal sculpture with inscriptions not unlike those seen on the holocron of Darth Krayt. It was made of the same dark stone that the steps that wrapped around it were carved from, like the seed from which the stairs sprouted. Looking up, there appeared to be several floors above them, but no sign of natural light filtering in from above.

Stopping to take in the paths before them, it was the non-Sith, Bomoor, who spoke first, “This temple is coming back to life just with us being here and I can sense all kinds of artefacts within these walls. We could spend days wandering these halls searching for some hint of a Kaiburr shard. Do you think there is some kind of database we could access?”

Thane did not immediately answer. Instead, he found his attentions torn between his open admission to Bomoor and the colossal power that was so intricately and deeply woven into every fibre of the structure around them. It enveloped them both within the refined malice that had typified the empire of Krayt and his One Sith, so-deemed heretical by the holocron Thane had taken as his own impromptu Sith mentor.

"Possibly," he said, thinking of no other answer as he stepped ahead and around the Ithorian, his eyes examining every structure and object entering his sight. "I imagine the holocron would have perhaps served that purpose," Thane opined, although he did not question their decision to secure their respective gatekeepers within the vault on the Red Raptor.

The would-be Dark Lord placed his hand upon the pyramidal structure before them, much as he had the large doorway into the temple prior to their entrance. As was becoming the norm, Thane found himself humbled by the enormity of their presence within these hallowed and storied halls of his Sith antecedents, and that this particular tomb had been untouched since its previous masters had long-vacated it.

"The Whiphid on Tython - the supposed last of the One Sith," Thane began, looking to Bomoor with thoughtfulness creasing his pale features, "I do not feel they ever stepped foot here." He glanced around again, drinking in the darkness and architecture. "I do not believe anyone has been here since the time of Krayt, even."

Bomoor came forward, looking briefly at Thane’s hand before placing his own darker palm upon the curious structure. In spite of all his caution, he wanted deeply to understand more about the path they walked and he reached out to touch the immense grandeur of those that achieved so much in the name of darkness.

“That would certainly align with the holocron’s view of those remnant Sith,” he agreed, feeling himself getting back into sync with his friend in a way that belied even the Force-created bond that connected them, “That wretch was strong, but his power was in madness and despair. That structured, organised authority that Krayt’s Sith once held… well, it was probably buried with this very temple.”

The voices that had called to Thane at the doorway began to chatter once again and it almost seemed as though faint shadows began to pace the halls from the corners of the two visitors’ eyes. Much like a holocron, there was a living memory recorded into these very walls; etched into the stone they now touched.

“To think, though,” Thane said, his words compelled by both reverie and the voices of phantoms past, “that this was once the beating heart of an order that toppled the Second Republic and brought the Fel Empire to heel; that this was the epicenter of a machine that rebuilt the Sith in an age of chaos through the sinister dreams and aspirations of one man. And before that even, the very first Dark Lords of the Sith – the Jedi Exiles themselves - carved and walked these very halls, beholden to themselves and their dark destinies, forging legacies that would inflict themselves upon the galaxy for time immemorial.”

He shook his head in wonderment, that rare sensation of humble fascination still not leaving him but instead inspiring him. The man that would be Serus felt a greater sense of belonging within these ancient and hallowed halls than he ever had within the clean and sterile corridors of the Coruscant Jedi Temple. Whilst at first it would have been easy to dismiss the Sith temple here as hollow and empty, that would be far from the truth. It was a fact made only the more apparent by the crescendo of whisperings rising to meet both former Jedi as they spoke.

Thane was also keenly aware of the outward appearance he was inflicting upon his friend – the very-same friend and stalwart companion whom he had just revealed his-

What had Bane’s gatekeeper called it? ‘The verity of that which you are’?

“These voices… these... echoes,” Thane started saying to his friend, a soft but quizzical expression on his face as his eyes passed from Bomoor to examine the chamber about them, as if searching for the source of the Sith whispers. “Do you think they are a remnant of Sith past, an accidental or unwanted tethering to this place, or something intentional, affixed as if part of some puzzle or deeper design?”

“The Force has an intelligence to it, particularly when it comes to the echoes left by the living,” Bomoor worked through the query with his companion, “We have already seen how powerful a barrier this remnant created at the doorway to the Temple, so I have no doubt that we will still be tested as we walk these halls. The very ethos of the Sith seems to be to keep its disciples on guard so their strength will be promoted and their weaknesses eliminated so we must be cautious.”

Another apparition seemed to flit by, just out of view. It was almost as if, underneath these dead and silent halls, lay a secondary living and breathing world that was simply obscured. If only they could bring that world more into focus.

“Do you think perhaps…” Bomoor began, pausing to consider the consequences of his suggestion, “…we could attempt to summon the spirits we are hearing? Why should we need to access a database when the Force echoes imbued here could lead us where we need to go?”

Thane thought on the suggestion for a moment, consideration creasing his brow. "Yes," he said finally, hesitation creeping into his voice. "There is something we might attempt. A ritual, for lack of a better description. It is something Darth Bane's holocron has informed me of, being one of the various and ancient Sith rites."

Indeed, several of the members of Bane's Order of the Sith Lords had adopted it as something akin to a Sith Naming rite, conducted in secret but before the dead eyes of Sith long past. Bane himself had not experienced the ritual, nor had he forced it upon his own student. Regardless, it perhaps provided a degree of acceptance and continuity for those inducted into the storied legacy of the Sith, further formalising what might otherwise be an empty honorific claim.

Not for the first time, Thane frustrated himself at wondering how genuine a pupil he truly was; were the Sith truly gone, and he, in true fallen Jedi fashion, was now simply playing at being a Dark Lord in an age of extinction?

He then pushed the thought aside, a deep-set rage bubbling within him at his own indecision and self-doubt. After all, his destiny was his own; he would claim the mantle of the Sith in his own fashion, forging an order and legend of his own design. Nothing was more Sith than to assume absolute control over something and make it their own. Thane knew all-too-well that he should not heed the misgivings of the Jedi he was, but should instead embrace and nurture the entity he sought to be.

"I believe I have learned most of the words," the Human carried on, "but the Sith language is clunky at best, and it is written that the very power of the dark side has been woven into the fabric of each syllable and inflection. To summon forth such spirits would require concentration - and tribute." Thane retrieved a dagger from his belt, its small cortosis-weave blade glinting in the macabre candlelight of XoXaan's ancient sanctum. "Are you sure?"

The Ithorian looked at the blade in his friend’s hand, wondering whether Darth Cabal had once started with such simple tributes before ultimately sacrificing his mind to Sith blood rituals.

“Yes,” Bomoor replied, holding out his own hand, “Perhaps I am too curious for my own good but I don’t believe anyone living will be able to give us what we seek here.”

With an agreement made, Thane drew the blade sharply, but accurately across both their palms, siphoning a trickle of crimson blood from both of them, which trickled down onto the dry and dusty ground of the ancient temple.

With a small flourish, Thane brought the blade up with one hand and clasped Bomoor’s free hand with his other, the blood dripping down from the blade and intermingling with their own below. More droplets spattered beneath their clasped digits in a truly macabre show of devotion from the two former Jedi.

Although a part of him appreciated the show of brotherhood and symbolism contained within their clasped gesture, Thane could not help but wonder what the Jedi Council would make of this particular performance; seeing two of their former star pupils, as free-minded as they may ever have been, engaged in dark side magic on the very world that spawned a seemingly-endless Sith threat against their misguided regimes. Had he not been privy to the very path that had led them here, even Thane would have questioned the spectacle with a cautious mind.

“Taka zeech… ma toka duuwaj,” the Human began, gripping Bomoor’s hand more tightly as he drew deeply on the teachings hidden away within his mind, doing his utmost to recall the various words and utterances Bane’s holocron had shown to him.

Long nights of lamplit studying, regarding the hazy red displays of the ancient holocron within the confines of his cabin on the Raptor had offered many rewards to the young man; his understanding of the language and ability to recite it was competent enough, but to truly comprehend the power of the words and the appreciation for the intricacies was something far more challenging to master. Even the slightest error in inflection could corrupt the speaker’s spell – or worse.

“Haa, neyo la yud… masur kee…” Thane paused, mulling on the coming words and being sure to focus on the desire and purpose of his incantations. A thick sensation of darkness began to grasp at his heart, small tendrils of burning ice tingling about within him. Through their bond, and the tightening grip, he was certain that the Ithorian was feeling much the same. “Tah uhnah kahru lur shu!”

The room seemed to shift slightly around them, and the air became heavier than before, there was a sense that a second realm had merged with their own: the world that they had only glimpsed before was now all around them.

A welter of voices, near and far, present and from aeons past, drowned both men’s thoughts. Raised in both praise and vehemence, they cheered and jeered at the audacious couple’s foray into their dark realm. Thane’s eyes, burning bright and golden, raised upwards to the high up ceiling of the chamber, and a twisted huskiness seized his voice as the final Sith words came to him effortlessly. Spying Bomoor to his side, Thane was sure even the Ithorian’s own eyes glinted with a reddened and unfamiliar malice, the once-Consular submitting his own will to the dark side in their gambit.

“A-HAH UR SU KA-HAAT. SU KA HARU AAT!”

TBC

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