My left hip servo let out a high-pitched, metallic screech every time I dragged my boot out of the knee-deep muck.
The Imperial armor was already a tight, crotch-squeezing nightmare after my sudden, Force-induced growth spurt, but the crash-landing had completely wrecked the alignment of the left leg plating. Now, every single step felt like I was lifting a damp block of lead while wearing skinny jeans two sizes too small. I had to actively cycle a trickle of the Force through my thighs just to keep from face-planting into the glowing, fungal moss.
Cradled against my chest, Arachnae gave a weak, pathetic click of her mandibles, her remaining functional optical sensors blinking a dull, tired red against my breastplate.
"Yeah, I know, girl," I muttered, shifting her weight to my left arm so I could shield her from the relentless downpour. "My joints are squeaking too. We'll find some dry ground soon. Hopefully."
A few paces behind me, Kael let out a ragged, wet gasp, his boots sloshing heavily through the mire. He had his good hand wrapped tightly around his splinted arm, his pale face illuminated by the trembling beam of his flashlight.
"I just... I still can't wrap my head around it," Kael stammered, his voice barely carrying over the steady roar of the rain. "A Jedi. I mean... I thought they were all gone. It's been nearly a decade since the news from Coruscant. Everyone back home said the entire Order was wiped out."
"That's exactly what the Emperor wants you to think," I said, pausing to lean my shoulder against a massive, weeping tree trunk. The bark felt cold and greasy, secreting some kind of foul-smelling sap that smelled like burning tires. "Keep the populace convinced the magic space wizards are extinct, and nobody bothers looking for them. Clean slate. Out of sight, out of mind."
Kael stumbled over a slick root, barely catching his balance with his good shoulder. "But you... you're just a kid. How are you even—"
"I'm a very special boy with a very complicated resume," I interrupted, wiping a mixture of cold rainwater and oily sweat from my forehead. "Look, the less you know about the specifics, the safer you are. Trust me, the Empire doesn't just execute the survivors. They tend to get incredibly stabby with anyone who even makes eye contact with them."
In reality, I was trying to keep my own rising anxiety from leaking into my voice. Based on the raw coordinates the nav-computer had vomited out before it died, we were somewhere deep in the Esstran sector. My mental encyclopedia of Star Wars lore was screaming red alerts at me. The Esstran sector was old-school Sith space. Korriban, Ziost, Dromund Kaas... the literal cradle of bad vibes and red lightsabers.
And the planet we were currently trudging through was absolutely radiating that classic, heavy dark-side pressure. It wasn't a sudden shock, but rather a slow, suffocating weight that sat right on top of my chest, making my brain feel like it was floating in lukewarm soup.
"Let's... let's just stop for a second," Kael breathed, leaning heavily against the same greasy tree. His flashlight beam danced erratically across the black canopy above us. "My arm is... well, it's throbbing like crazy, and I can't feel my toes."
"Five minutes," I agreed, but I didn't sit down.
Instead, I closed my eyes and let my consciousness slip beneath the greasy surface of the planet's dark-side noise. I pushed my hyper-perception down through the soles of my boots, past the thick layers of decomposing vegetation, and into the wet bedrock.
My chest tightened.
Thump.
The seismic vibration was still there. It was rhythmic, heavy, and undeniably closer than it had been thirty minutes ago.
"Kriff," I whispered, opening my eyes.
"What?" Kael asked, his eyes widening in the dim light of his flashlight. "Is it... is it that thing again?"
"Yeah," I said, my hand instinctively drifting down to the hilt of Hett's lightsaber. "I'm sure now. It's not a coincidence. Whatever that thing is, it's coming straight for us."
Kael swallowed hard, his flashlight beam darting wildly into the black forest. "How... how is that even possible? We've been throwing in random turns for the last hour. And this rain... it should have washed away any tracks we left."
"Force knows," I muttered, squinting into the pitch-black tree line. "Maybe it's tracking our scent or maybe rain didn't wash away everything..."
Kael's grip tightened on his splinted arm, his chest heaving as he tried to blink the rainwater out of his eyes. "So... now what?"
"If we can't lose it, we're going to have to deal with it—"
I stopped mid-sentence.
The soles of my boots tingled. Then, a massive, grinding tremor ripped through the earth, nearly knocking me off my feet. The seismic signal didn't come from the forest this time. The source was directly beneath us.
"Is it... is it me," Kael stammered, his boots sliding as the mud began to liquefy around his ankles, "or is the ground actually shaking?"
"WATCH OUT!" I roared.
I threw myself backward, clutching Arachnae tightly against my chest. In the same motion, I reached out and pushed Kael with the Force, launching him through the air and away from the unstable patch of ground.
An instant later, the earth beneath us completely gave way.
The muddy floor split wide open, tearing through ancient, thick roots and spraying geysers of black muck into the air as a massive, towering silhouette erupted from the subterranean dark.
I scrambled backward on my hands and knees, wiping the wet mud from my visor as I stared up at the thing rising from the freshly torn crater.
"Ah," I muttered, my voice flat. "You have got to be kidding me."
----
[Some moments ago.]
[Scythe Crash Site]
The clouds above the crashed Scythe parted as a sleek, silently drifting shuttle descended through the torrential rain. Twin spotlights of blinding white light cut through the downpour, painting the jagged, muddy clearing in stark, clinical illumination.
The vessel did not land. It hovered dozens of meters above the swampy canopy, its repulsorlifts letting out a low, bass-heavy hum that rippled the standing pools of water below.
From the open side-hatch of the hovering craft, two shadows detached themselves. They fell through the roaring storm, dropping down into the darkness before landing with perfect, predatory grace in the deep mud.
The taller of the two, wrapped in heavy, elaborate robes of dark purple and black, stood upright. His boots did not sink into the mire; he hovered a fraction of an inch above the muck, completely untouched by the filth.
"An Inquisitor's vessel," the tall priest sneered, his voice carrying a singsong, melodic malice that easily sliced through the thunder. "The Emperor's lapdogs continue to litter the galaxy with their failures."
The second figure, a hulking giant clad in spiked dark armor beneath a tattered black cloak, said nothing. He slid like a phantom into the ruptured, tilted entrance of the Scythe.
The priest walked a slow circle around the hull, trailing a pale, ring-adorned hand along the scorched durasteel. He spat into the mud in quiet disgust. "Useless, blind acolytes. They play with the toys of the ancient Sith, yet they lack the spine to even hold them."
The tattered cloak of the armored giant rustled as he stepped back out from the dark interior. His voice was a flat, emotionless rumble beneath his heavy visor. "There is no Inquisitor inside, High Prophet. The ship has been thoroughly scavenged. Systems stripped. Nav-core melted."
"Expected," the High Prophet scoffed, turning his head back toward the hovering shuttle. "Only a fool flees into the deep without a map."
The armored giant jumped down from the raised, buckled ramp of the transport. He stood entirely still for a long moment, his visor slowly turning toward the eastern edge of the crater.
He walked toward the tree line, his steps heavy and deliberate.
Buried in the wet earth was a jagged, upright slab of durasteel.
The giant reached down, his heavy gauntlet wiping away the slick mud coating the metal. With a sharp, electric hiss, a deep crimson lightsaber ignited, its blood-red glow casting long, sinister shadows across the weeping trees.
He leaned down, his visor scanning the scorched, uneven letters burned into the metal.
"Interesting," the warrior rumbled.
"What have you found, Azrakel?" the High Prophet asked, stepping up behind him.
"A tombstone," Azrakel said.
With a lazy, backward flick of his free hand, the earth over the grave peeled back. The wet mud parted cleanly, sliding away to reveal the pale, rain-slicked face of Ryn.
The High Prophet leaned in, his eyes narrowing in the crimson light of the blade. "An Alderaanian. Hardly an Imperial. And certainly not an Inquisitor." He let out a soft, mocking chuckle. "Since when did the beasts of this swamp develop the sentimentality required to bury their dead?"
Azrakel deactivated his weapon, plunging them back into the pale white glow of the shuttle's spotlights. He knelt, his armored fingers checking the corpse's collar. "He did not bury himself. The grave is fresh. Less than an hour."
The High Prophet's smirk vanished, replaced by a cold, calculating stare. "Now that I recall, the whisperings from the Core spoke of a minor disaster. A stolen vessel. A slip of the Inquisitorius's leash in the Outer Rim. Could it be the thieves lost their way in the currents and found themselves here, Azrakel?"
Azrakel stood up, his gaze locking onto the faint, newly crushed trail of brush leading deeper into the dark forest. "If they are here, they are already dead. The swamp does not tolerate uninvited guests."
The High Prophet waved a dismissive, ringed hand, his interest already evaporating like the steam rising from the hot metal of the Scythe.
"A waste of time," he muttered, turning his back on the grave. "Notify the Imperial Garrison of this when we return to the temple. I cannot be bothered to waste my night sorting through the leftovers of the Inquisitorius."
Before Azrakel could offer a response, both men froze.
A sharp ripple tore through the stagnant, heavy dark side energy of the swamp.
The High Prophet's posture went rigid. The mild boredom on his face vanished, replaced by a cold, venomous glare toward the treeline.
"...So the hound lived," Jedgar murmured, and the mockery was gone from it.
Azrakel's gauntlet settled on his hilt. "And he has been careless."
Jedgar's eyes stayed on the treeline. "Careless enough to make the dark stir."
The torrential rain continued to pour, but the ground of the forest was already shifting, vibrating with a sudden, hungry anticipation.
The armored giant stepped toward the edge of the clearing, his visor locked onto the dark, weeping path. "The beast are waking up."
Jedgar cursed softly, a tense, hurried edge creeping into his voice. If an Inquisitor perished here due to their own sheer incompetence, the subsequent inquiries from the Core would be an intolerable distraction. More pressingly, a prolonged disturbance would complicate their own presence in the valley.
"I will not have our sanctuary disturbed by the panic of a dying acolyte," Jedgar said, his jaw tightening. "Move. Secure him before he draws the depth of this swamp to our doorstep."
Azrakel did not need to be told twice. His heavy, armored form melted into the dark brush, moving with a silent, terrible speed that defied his massive frame.
___
A/N: yo ho. a lot of guys guessed dagobah but its Dromund Kaas lol.
I think somebody guessed correct in the comments so congrats.
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