Nihilus stepped in and seized her by the throat with his bare hand—not to devour her, not yet. The grip was cold, absolute. Morgan's back slammed into stone as the pressure crushed air from her lungs. The white walls of Camelot fractured behind her, hairline cracks racing through oath and concept alike until they shattered into fading light.
Nihilus gasped. Like something that had never needed air and suddenly did.
For a heartbeat too long, he remained in the force-devoid space they'd created. The dark side strained to answer him. It lagged. His form flickered, edges thinning, cohesion faltering. A few seconds more and whatever passed for his existence would unravel.
Morgan saw it. She smiled through blood and burned flesh. "Aren't you going to eat me?" she asked lightly.
Nihilus released her throat and stepped back once. He didn't look at her. Instead, his arm extended outward toward the void beyond the arena. Somewhere far away, a nameless planet screamed. Life collapsed. Oceans stilled. Cities died without knowing why.
The energy came to him anyway. He condensed it along his arm, dark and dense, a coffin made of stolen extinction. With the same motion, he drove his bare hand forward and buried it into Morgan's chest.
Straight through her heart. Her body locked. Every fiber slowed, seized, dragged toward stillness. Immortality resisted, but even it groaned under the pressure. Blood ran down his wrist, hot against something that shouldn't feel heat.
Nihilus leaned close, voice finally forming in Basic. "I had fun fighting a girl like you." His tone was almost fond. "But if I eat you… something terrible happens to me. this is where you stay. Buried."
Morgan coughed once. Then laughed.
Her hand came up and closed around his arm, fingers digging in despite the wound, despite the pain. She held him there.
"No," she said calmly, eyes bright. "That's supposed to be my line." Her smile sharpened. "If I lose—so do you."
The ground answered. A circle flared into existence beneath them, fairy magecraft blooming in layered sigils, old and precise. Light folded inward. Space tightened. The air hummed as if reality itself had been caught mid-breath.
Nihilus looked down for the first time.
Morgan smiled, blood at her lips, posture steady despite the hand buried in her chest. "My real heart lies elsewhere," she said calmly. "This one is filled with Force-based immortality. The same trick your Eternal Emperor used."
Her fingers tightened around his arm.
"And you," she continued, eyes sharp, amused, merciless, "ancient Sith relic… it's time your hunger is well fed."
Panic rippled through him.
Nihilus tried to pull his arm free. It didn't move. The seal had already closed, fairy sigils locking his limb in place like a vow carved into causality itself. The dark side surged in response—too late. It met resistance not of power, but of definition.
Morgan began to chant.
"The foreign nation… the end of time.
Yet the sword is in his hands.
The castle wall is solidified,
and the victorious battle cry shall echo far and wide.
We shall carve out the cold and hard victory—"
The world changed.
The volcanic hellscape didn't shatter. It was overwritten. Ash receded. Fire dimmed. The ground softened into grass that shimmered like dew-kissed silver. The sky cleared into endless blue. White towers rose where magma had flowed, their spires reflected in water so pure it hurt to look at. Avalon imposed itself upon reality, not violently, but absolutely.
Morgan lifted her head. "Round of Avalon."
The magic struck. And it did not attack. It bestowed.
A title crashed down upon Nihilus like a crown made of vows. Knight. Oath-bearer. Protector. Blessings layered over him—valor, duty, restraint, mercy—everything antithetical to what he was. His hunger recoiled as the concept tried to define him as something other than consumption.
Nihilus screamed. In terror. To be fed was one thing. However To be fulfilled was annihilation. He unleashed everything.
Force draining roared outward as he tried to devour Avalon itself, erase the blessing, tear down the title before it could finish engraving itself into his existence. Life vanished at the edges of the imposed realm. The sky darkened. The lake boiled.
Morgan watched from within the circle, eyes cold and unwavering.
Power collided.
Hunger slammed against Avalon. Avalon did not push back—it held. The clash wasn't loud at first. It was pressure. The kind that bends continents before sound arrives. Nihilus screamed, a long, tearing cry, forcing everything he had into the drain. The sigils flared brighter. The remaining towers groaned but stayed standing.
"Huuuuuuuuuu—"
The drain intensified. The air shredded. Reality buckled.
Then Nihilus screamed again, raw and feral.
"AHHHAAAHHHHHHA—"
The explosion tore the world apart.
A shockwave ripped outward, the ground breaking in concentric rings. Mountains split. The sky fractured. The quake rolled through space itself, echoing so violently that even Coruscant felt it as a distant, impossible tremor. detonated.
When it ended, silence followed.
Morgan remained seated. Her posture hadn't changed.
Around her, half of Avalon still stood—white stone broken but unyielding—while the other half had been torn back into a volcanic ruin, ash and magma crawling through the remnants of a sacred land. Peace and hunger lay fused, neither erased.
Across the shattered ground, Nihilus lay in his depowered form. His cloak hung warped and torn. The mask was cracked, veins of molten red dimmed. the shape he wore when the dark side is his ally
He laughed..
"Na'kh ir vhaal… shen kor'thra."
[My hunger still remains.]
The cracked mask tilted toward Morgan.
"Vrex naal… jir vaelor."
[I won this fight.]
The laughter echoed through the broken remains of Avalon, half holy, half damned.
Then the sky tore open. A hole. Vast beyond scale, eclipsing continents, a presence so large the idea of distance failed around it. The Dragon of Vortigern's abyssal form unfolded—not as flesh, not as bone, but as negation given hunger. Even its "mouth" was not a mouth at all, only a collapsing void, a wound in reality shaped like consumption itself.
The world did not resist.
Avalon vanished first. Towers, lakes, light, vows—peeled away and swallowed without sound. Volcanic stone followed. Fire. Ash. Hunger. Nihilus felt it before it reached him, a pressure that did not drain but erased.
Then it took them. Nihilus was pulled upward, his form unraveling into threads of shadow and mask and will. Morgan followed, unresisting, cloak fluttering as the abyss claimed even her imposed reality. Endless.
Inside the void, Morgan laughed quietly, the sound oddly gentle. "This is the finale I made ," she said, voice steady despite the absence of ground or sky. " lie like Vortigern's curse itself." She glanced sideways, eyes bright even here. "I suppose we both win. And we both lose." Her smile curved, rueful. "There's no end to this hole. We'll be falling eternally."
Nihilus drifted beside her, no longer a storm, no longer a king. Just a presence held together by memory and hunger.
He laughed once. Not cruel. Just tired.
"Na'kh ir shaal… ven'kor thren."
[And you chose to trap yourself here with me for eternity.]
His cracked mask turned toward her, the void reflecting faintly across its surface.
"Sael'thra vahl… jin'karae."
[What a fine gentlewoman you are.]
"Remael na'korr… shai'ven."
[You remind me of my apprentice.]
The abyss closed around them completely. Then light tore through it.
A slit of impossible blue-white opened above, slipspace screaming as it forced itself into the void. A rope of crystallized mana and anchor-runes snapped downward, catching Morgan hard around the torso. The pull was immediate.
XoXaan's voice cut through the nothing. Baobhan Sith's followed, sharp and strained. They hauled.
Morgan was ripped upward, cloak snapping, boots scraping against absence as she was dragged toward the opening. The void resisted, stretching her silhouette like ink in water—but it lost.
Nihilus watched. He hovered in the dark, cracked mask tilted upward, resignation settling where hunger usually lived. He spoke, his voice carrying through the abyss in the old tongue.
"Na'kh ir shaal… ven'kor thren kael?"
[Aren't you going to stay with me for eternity?]
Morgan paused mid-pull.
"I'm sorry," she said gently. "I have a husband waiting for me."
The rope yanked again. Closer to the light.
Nihilus stilled. Surprise rippled through him He spoke again, slower.
"Tu'ven… shai'kara."
[You understand my language .]
Then, with a faint, hollow smile in his voice—
"Vael na'korr… shen'tha. Ir vahl kor'eth, na'kh ir shaal ven'kora."
[If I ever reach the other side of this hole, I will treasure what I eat next time.]
Morgan reached the edge of the portal. Stone and air returned beneath her boots as XoXaan and Baobhan dragged her fully free. Before the aperture collapsed, she turned once more.
She tossed something into the void. A bag.
Inside—warm bread, pastries, preserved meats, fruit, sweets. Every delicacy she had eaten. It drifted toward him, absurd and gentle against endless black.
"There won't be a next time," Morgan said calmly. "This hole is endless. You might as well enjoy your food now."
The portal began to close.
Nihilus reached out—not with the Force,—but with his hands. The bag touched him.
His voice followed her one last time, quiet, sincere.
"Sael'thra… ven'kael."
[Thank you… for the food.]
Morgan stood at the edge of the sealed ground, cloak settling around her shoulders. She didn't smile, but her posture was calm. Certain.
"My name is Morgan le Fay," she said evenly. "Ruler of the British Lostbelt. You'd do well to remember that."
From the abyss, a low sound escaped Nihilus.. Recognition.
he said in the old tongue, the syllables dragging like stone over stone.
"Mor'gan… lae'vahl?"
[Morgan le Fay…?]
Something rose from the darkness. His lightsaber.
It spun once in the void, then arced upward, landing cleanly in Morgan's hand. A second object followed—a personal holocron, dark and angular, etched with ancient sigils, heavy with legacy and ruin. She caught it without effort.
Below, Nihilus lifted his hands to his mask.
For the first time, he removed it. What lay beneath was not a face in the mortal sense—only the silhouette of a man, blackened and scarred, shaped from dark side residue and memory, edges flickering like a dying flame. The outline of who he once was, barely held together.
He tried to speak again. This time, not in the old language. Basic came hard to him.
"…That's," he rasped, the word breaking, reforming. "A… thank you… gift. From me."
The void pulled at him harder now.
"I'll… be waiting," he continued, voice thinning. "In the… chaos void." A pause. Then, clearer than before. "Morgan le Fay."
He didn't struggle. Nihilus let himself sink.
The darkness closed around him, swallowing the silhouette, the scars, the hunger, until only silence remained.
Note (Warning – not an announcement):
Nihilus's face is truly hideous, as fans have described—just keep that in mind when imagining or painting the picture below.