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Chapter Text

Prologue

Stirring Shadows

Zakuul-Royal Palace-Throne Room

Sitting on the throne of the Eternal Empire of Zakuul was a dark shadow that seemed to be the living embodiment of darkness itself, that began to stir from its meditative state. Upon closer examination, however, one would find that this figure was in fact a seemingly young human man with short, raven black hair draped over the side of his face, pale skin, and dark eyes that were a fiery shade of crimson, clad in dark armored robes that bespoke of the utmost refinery, gave a smile that would send shivers down any man or woman’s spine.

Oh, how he had waited for something like this. How he had waited for the Jedi and the Republic to become so pitifully weak, bloated, and so stunted in its growth that the morons couldn’t see the Sith Lord they had elected to the office of Supreme Chancellor for what he was, nor that he and his apprentice had engineered the war whose spark had been lit at last in an attempt to purge the Jedi, and remold the carcass of the Republic into a new Sith Empire. 

Speaking of these Sith that smashed the forces of the Republic and these Separatists together like mere children’s toys, the shadow couldn’t help but roll his eyes at them. How foolishly arrogant they were by following this Rule of Two nonsense. True, while he had long suspected that he and those who followed him, apprentices and allies both, were not the only ones who had survived the Sith Order cannibalizing itself, he had thought Darth Bane was smarter than that. So much could have, and by right should have, gone wrong over the course of the eons where he and his successors had been doing this Rule of Two thing. What would have happened if the master had been struck down without finding an apprentice to carry on their work? What if the apprentice found themselves having become the master without being ready for such a title, and was ultimately destroyed because of their weakness and unpreparedness? It would have meant the utter destruction of the Sith, at least as far as the galaxy was concerned anyway. He could only assume that it was by the will of the Force and sheer dumb luck that Darth Bane’s Sith had survived as long as it had.

Meanwhile, his Eternal Sith Order had continued to bide their time and wait, silently, patiently, for the inevitable decay and rot that had been growing on the Republic and the Jedi to grow deep enough. And now, that they had allowed a Sith Lord to take the highest form of elected office in the Republic and were none the wiser for it, and were fighting a war that had been engineered by said Sith Lord and his apprentice designed to purge the idiotic and withered husks who called themselves the Jedi from the galaxy, it seemed that all their waiting, had at long last, finally paid off.

The shadow got up from his throne and left the throne room, making his way to a small side room, where some form of memorial shrine and chamber designed for the Sith arts and a personal armory was set up. On that shrine sat an old, rusted vibroblade, several old blasters, and in a place of honor on the shrine, a rusted wedding ring and a pair of old lightsabers lay.

The shadow smiled fondly at the twin lightsabers. They had been his devotion gift for his wife, his beautiful, lovely, strong wife whom he would have loved to start a family with, had fate not been so cruel to them both...

As he paid his respects to his fallen comrades and beloved, the shadow began to think back on the events that had led his destiny to become entangled with theirs. Once, in another life, he had been Tyran Kallig, a lowly and miserable wretch of a slave who had been given the chance at freedom, but in order to do so, he had had to master the Sith arts or die trying. And master them, he did, and soon became the apprentice of Darth Zash, with a member of the now-extinct race of warriors known as the Daschade named Khem Val by his side. Zash had sent him on a relic hunt under the pretense of using a ritual to augment his power. It was during this hunt that he had met the spirit of his ancestor, Lord Kallig, who had revealed to him the truth of his ancient Sith lineage.

After Zash revealed her true intent to hijack his body using the artifacts he’d gathered and paid the consequences for her foolishness accordingly, Tyran had learned that he was possessed of a unique Force ability to bind the spirit of ancient Sith Lords, and as it later turned out, the spirits of defeated Jedi, to his will, and feed upon their power. In order to destroy an enemy Sith Lord who had sought to destroy Darth Zash's power base, himself included, Tyran had sought out the most powerful Sith spirits in the galaxy to consume and bind to his will. It was during this ghost hunt that he had met the love of his life, a beautiful young togruta woman named Ashura Zavros, a former Jedi Padawan whom he had corrupted via the Dark Side, ultimately leading the girl to evolve into something that could be interpreted as a Gray Jedi, one who walked the line between the light and the dark.

Unfortunately, as it turned out, he had bit off more than he could chew, and wound up heavily damaging his mind and body both, which had been remedied through an ancient Rakatan device known as the Mother Machine and a ritual performed on the planet of Voss.

It was with the Rakatan Mother machine and the Voss Dreamwalking ritual that Tyran Kallig had been washed away and destroyed, and Darth Nox, a being far from human with the unaging body and mind of a god of darkness, was born. After a series of misadventures, during which he became a member of the Dark Council, lost said council seat due to circumstances beyond his control, became the Emperor of the Eternal Alliance, left that title behind to get his Council seat back, learned and followed the path to true immortality to the end, and bore witness to the Sith Empire’s self-destruction, he, his companions, wife, apprentices, the Jedi and Sith Spirits he’d subjugated, and several others returned to Zakuul where he reclaimed his mantle as the Eternal Emperor, and had been hiding in the darkest shadows of the galaxy ever since, watching, waiting, scheming, and growing stronger in both the Force and in weapons technology, among other things.

And now, the time had finally come to emerge from the shadows and bring the pathetic excuse for the Republic and the Jedi to their knees as the galaxy at last bowed before him.

Pulling a comlink from a drawer on the shrine, Nox spoke into it. “Lord Willsaam, do you read me?” he asked into the device.

“Yes, your Majesty?” replied a male voice on the other end.

“Rally the troops, summon the Knights, and ready the fleet for launch,” said Nox. “The time has finally come at last. I will address our forces shortly.”

“Oh, finally, some action!” Lord Willsaam said excitedly. “I wish my ancestors were here to see this…”

Nox smiled. No doubt Jaesa and Caelus would feel the same way, he thought to himself. 

The man who had been known as the Emperor’s Wrath and his former Jedi Padawan-turned-delightfully deranged apprentice and wife, Jaesa Willsaam, had disappeared some time during the five years Nox had spent frozen in carbonite, but not before they had brought forth a few very powerful younglings into the galaxy. Nox didn’t know the Wrath well, having passed him a few times in the Academy, including when he had literally just struck down his former master, Darth Baras the Wide, as the history books amusingly called him, who had been ranting and raving about the Emperor and his voice, whatever that meant, while he had been on his way to deal with Darth Thanaton once and for all.

That day had been a very busy one for the Dark Council, that much was certain.

All things considered, Nox had a feeling he and Jaesa would have gotten along splendidly, as they caused all kinds of murder and mayhem together.

Regardless, that was the ancient past. Nox needed to focus on the now.

As Darth Nox made his way over to a wardrobe on the other side of the room and opened it, he smiled at the sight of his old gear and equipment housed within. Reaching inside and grabbing the hilt of his lightsaber once more, he activated it, bringing to life a deep crimson blade that fizzled and sparked with lightning and energy.

Indeed, the time had come for him to don his ancestor’s mask once again, and learn what pathetic weaklings passed for Jedi and Sith in the modern galaxy, before he removed them from it. Though, that need not necessairily apply to all of them. Perhaps he could convert a few Padawans and make them swear fealty to his Empire, giving them a proper lesson on what real power was.

Regardless, one thing was certain: murder and mayhem awaited, and it was time, at long last, to go a-killing once more!

Chapter Text

Chapter I

Making An Entrance

In retrospect, considering who she was the Padawan of, Ahsoka really wasn’t really surprised when the mission went completely FUBAR. What surprised her was how badly it went FUBAR.

It had started when her Master, Anakin Skywalker, had decided to cut through a nebula called the Balmorra Run, which just so happened to be among the migration path of the Neebray Mantis, which resulted in a few of their ships getting dinged up, though thankfully they were able to arrive at the Medical Station before their target, the Separatist flagship known as The Malevolence, a deadly battle cruiser armed with a massive ion cannon on its starboard side, capable of turning a small fleet into sitting ducks, helpless before its blaster cannons.

It wasn’t long, however, before the battleship arrived, and the battle to defend the medical station began in earnest, and half of Anakin’s ships were either destroyed or got on the wrong end of a blast from The Malevolence’s ion cannon. Regardless, Anakin continued to press the attack, even as the rest of his ships continued to just barely avoid the blaster cannons. In the end, however, Anakin and the remnants of his team were able to destroy the ion cannon, and in the process, all but disable The Malevolence.

Which led Anakin, Ahsoka, Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi, and Jedi Council Member Plo Koon to where they were now, standing aboard the bridge of a Republic battle cruiser that was currently hot on the heels of The Malevolence, which was just barely keeping away from the cruiser’s turbolaser fire.

Ahsoka looked over to her master and his master, both of whom had determined looks on their faces. Who could blame them? They had the highest ranking member of the Separatist Droid Army, General Grievous, right where they wanted him, giving them a chance to all but cripple said army. And yet, Ahsoka, for some reason, couldn’t help but feel that there was something about this that felt too easy… and, whether it was a gift she had from her connection to the Force or if it had been a simple gut instinct, if Ahsoka knew one thing from her fairly brief time fighting in this war, is that when something felt too easy, it probably meant that it was about to get more complicated in a hurry.

After all, she had heard it from several bits of intel that General Grievous could be exceptionally crafty when it came to making his escape...

Suddenly, Ahsoka found herself falling to her knees as her connection to the Force screamed at her to GET THE HELL OUT OF THERE RIGHT NOW, something that seemed to be shared by Anakin, Obi-Wan, and Plo Koon if the fact that all three of them stumbled on their feet and clutched their heads before regaining their footing.

“What was that?” asked Anakin.

“Nothing good, I’ll wager,” said Obi-Wan.

“Indeed…” said Plo Koon with great concern in his voice. “I sense… a great darkness is approaching. Darker than anything we’ve seen yet…”

Almost as if on cue, a large fleet of black starships, led by one of the biggest ships that anyone onboard the Republic cruiser had ever seen before, appeared out of hyperspace and opened fire on both The Malevolence and their own ship, and almost instantly launched a swarm of equally black starfighters that proceeded to bombard both ships with laser fire of their own, knocking almost everybody on the bridge to the ground from the barrage.

“What the- where did these guys come from?!” squealed Ahsoka in a panic.

“I’m afraid I do not know, Ahsoka,” said Plo Koon. “However, it is clear they are not friends of the Republic nor the Separatists. I fear this war just got vastly more complicated…”

“Regardless of how complicated this just got, the fact remains that we are under attack!” yelled Anakin before turning to a nearby Republic Officer. “Get the crews to their fighters right now!"

"At once, General Skywalker!" the officer replied with a salute.

 Meanwhile, on The Bridge of The Malevolence

General Grievous’ day was just going from bad to worse to completely and utterly miserable. First, his attack on the Republic Medical Station went completely FUBAR thanks to Anakin Skywalker and his strike team’s attack on The Malevolence knocking out his ion cannon, and all but disabling the ship as a result. Then they were chased for parsecs by a Republic battle cruiser while the damage to the ship was assessed, and now they were under attack by an unknown enemy who were attacking both them and the aforementioned Republic battle cruiser.

Truly, this was one of those days where Grievous wanted to grab a couple exquisite pieces from his collection of lightsabers and just go to town on anyone and everyone unfortunate enough to cross his path, be they droid or organic.

“General, incoming transmission from Count Dooku! High priority!” one of the Battle Droids on the bridge said.

Grievous growled. “Put him through,” he said, irritation in his voice.

The blue holographic image of Count Dooku appeared behind Grievous, the urgent and concerned expression on his face catching the droid general by surprise. Never, in all his days, did he think anything could shake Dooku’s calm and unflappable manner.

“Grievous, status report, now!” barked Dooku.

“Oh, everything is just fine, Count,” Grievous said sarcastically. “Skywalker’s destroyed the ion cannon, the hyperdrive has been disabled, we’ve been chased for parsecs by the Republic, and now we’re under attack by an unknown assailant!”

Dooku’s expression turned grim. “Then it is as Lord Sidious feared… it seems a third party has decided to enter the war, intent on bringing both the Confederacy and the Republic to their knees…” Dooku muttered before shaking his head and turning to Grievous. “Listen to me very carefully, General. Lord Sidious has made arrangements for a hostage that should help keep the Republic, especially Skywalker, at bay to be delivered to you. You are to secure the hostage, and make for Separatist space immediately. Abandon the Malevolence if you must, but get out of there with the hostage intact. We will need to discuss how to deal with this new… development, with the other Separatist leaders. Am I understood?”

"Yes, Count Dooku," replied Grievous with a respectful bow.

With that, the transmission ended, and Grievous returned his attention to the situation on the bridge, and began awaiting the arrival of their hostage… hopefully before The Malevolence was destroyed by this third party that the Count had spoken of. Either way, they were gonna have to move fast if they were to collect the hostage and get back to Separatist space in one piece...

Meanwhile, on the Bridge of the Zakuul Imperial Flagship...

As he stood on the bridge of his personal, heavily armed and shielded, flagship, The Black Hand, Darth Nox, clad in a gleaming silver and dark gray mask that resembled a skull, a dark coat with a set of dark gray robes, dark pants with a gray belt that had a skull with glowing purple eyes on it and had his lightsaber hanging from it, dark gray and black gloves, and dark armored boots, underneath all of which was a suit of highly advanced combat armor, smiled beneath his mask as he watched the battle unfold.

He had missed this… standing on the command deck of a ship, watching as the men and women under his command rained down destruction upon an enemy who had been caught off guard… though he always did prefer a more personal touch in such proceedings.

His Knights had been confused by Nox’s decision to come here, to these particular coordinates. In truth, the reason Darth Nox had decided to come here was because he had sensed it was here that he would encounter key pieces in this proxy war the Republic was embroiled in, ones who had the power to shape the very future of the galaxy during this “war.”

Needless to say, Nox was very interested in meeting these key pieces, and eradicating them if necessary. Should it come to that, Nox at least hoped they would at least provide him with at least a little entertainment before they were sent back to their masters in pieces.

“My lord,” one of the bridge technicians said, pulling Darth Nox out of his musings. “The scanners are picking up a ship exiting hyperspace, it doesn’t appear to be a combat vessel.”

“Hmm?” said Darth Nox, his voice sounding as though it was coming through a microphone from within his mask, as he made his way over to the monitor the technician was manning, and quickly found the man’s assessment to be correct.

The ship exiting hyperspace seemed to be a luxury cruiser of some type, perhaps belonging to some unsuspecting ambassador or some such, one who Nox was willing to bet had been decieved into coming here, perhaps to be captured by these Seperatists and used as a bargaining chip against the Republic, or perhaps used as a sacrifice to stir the patriotic fervor of the oh-so gullible masses of the Republic.

Nox placed his hand on his chin in thought. Perhaps he could use that hostage to his advantage and pry some juicy information about the Republic out of their skull. Assuming he didn't fracture this scapegoat's tiny little mind in he extracted information from them, perhaps he could even get them to come around to his way of seeing things. Having eyes and ears in the Republic government could be ever so useful.

And if he couldn't pry anything of use from them, or subvert them to his will, well, the sorry excuse for a living being wouldn't be in the middle of an active warzone if they weren't considered expendable in the first place.

“Ready my personal starfighter, and summon two of the Shades… I’m going to be joining the fray personally, and I will be taking that sacrifical lamb off their hands. And while I'm at it, I'll see if I can’t pick up some intel on this so-called Confederacy of Independent Systems that the Republic thinks they’re fighting,” ordered Darth Nox.

The technician nodded. “At once, my lord.”

Darth Nox turned on his heel and made his way down to The Black Hand's fighter bay, a feral grin on his face that was concealed by his ancestor's mask. It had been a long time since he had set foot on the battlefield... and he was very eager to cause some chaos after all this time. And perhaps if he were lucky, he could cross blades with whatever passed for Jedi in this era... and killing them would be such fun...