CC: Imperial March

[Syren]

Byss: Imperial Capital

Barrett does not go to Chandaar and instead diverts to the Imperial capital in Dahlia’s royal cruiser. He knows she is far too self-involved to check his meeting schedule. There is a pang of guilt over lying to her although, given the circumstances, it almost seems fitting.

The Emperor’s Citadel never fails to inspire – respect and fear. The gothic architecture detailed with dangerous peaks is an appropriate symbol. He lands the cruiser and walks the corridors to ponder the present events. Barrett’s read all the bio’s, knows all the major players. The Empire made sure of it. They would never let him go in blind. It was no accident that Barrett and Dahlia crossed paths. He could barely stand her at first but he’s let himself get to a place he was warned against, a place that many others have found themselves in when it comes to The Four. Seasoned agents, political figures, hardened criminals all put aside principle and practice to aide them. Call it a spell or simply a clever form of manipulation they have something, a power that cannot be denied. It is more than the Force abilities two of them possess. More than the secrets their genetic material may hold. More than the seductive nature of their plight as they clash headlong into galactic events once again. There is magnetism, an incredible pull, toward their inevitable black hole.

He loves Dahlia, hates Quentin, fears Quinn and now must do something to prove to himself he’s still loyal. That the Empire comes first. Quentin was briefed on the powers of the Winton sisters and warned against their charms when he was sent into D’ian. Dahlia was just as likely to possess the raw potential as both Alexia and Karen and they were right. Her spike in the Force and complete loss of control should have been reported…on more than one front.

He slows at the junction to the Emperor’s throne room.

Through his petty outrage, he knows The Four had been manipulated by the Empire in the past. He wouldn’t go so far as to say that isn’t in play here. Barrett is no fool and Dahlia’s words reflect what he has begun to feel himself: the Emperor fears her. Schrag has tolerated her frivolity more than he anticipated but he always believed it was because she had yet to become a risk. She, like almost everything else, holds a tactical advantage if leveraged wisely. She could be useful if she can be controlled. He also knows that constraints and subterfuge from multiple factions led to carnage and destruction. That's not what he wants to do yet Dahlia has moved from adversarial annoyance to full-blown threat, especially if that loss of control had anything to do with the reformation of Coruscant. He doesn’t want to believe that but there is much about their story that defies belief.

Quentin may have discovered her true powers but there is someone who surely knew long before that. Someone he is not is entirely convinced has their bests interests in mind. The slippery Sith seer that somehow remains close enough to advise the Emperor. If Darth Erinbol really means to protect Schrag’s claim, he would already be aware of this development. He and Quentin more than likely would have received orders…unless Erinbol wants this. He knows how close her sister had been to the throne and with the right direction Dahlia could bring everything Schrag built to the ground.

The choice confronts him coldly; give Dahlia up to Emperor Schrag or silence Darth Erinbol for keeping the secret and holding this leverage over all of them.



-TBC

[Syren]

Byss: Imperial Capital
 
Surface: Emperor’s Citadel

Barrett strides boldly into the Sith sanctum.

Through the darkness, interspersed with torchlight, he can see a figure knelt before what looks like an altar. The figure rises and turns around as if expecting him. Darth Erinbol’s gray skin is thrown into an array of shadows.

“Ambassador Trevaithan, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

His blaster is out and trained on him before he finishes the sentence.

“Drop the act, Erinbol. You are a traitor to the Empire who has conspired against Emperor Schrag.”

“As usual, dear boy. You do not know the whole story. Not because you cannot see it but because you do not wish to.”

“What are you talking about?”

His thoughts are easy enough to read.

"Dahlia has always been dangerous, Barrett. You understood that going in but now you know things about her. Things she has done. And you interpret that as a betrayal because it may pose a threat to Schrag’s rule. You think she’ll move to strike if she’s not contained. What you fail to realize, however, is that there is no containing her. There never was.”

Barrett searches his sunken features for traces of something that would reveal a motive, something clear cut and damning. Instead, he finds a neutral mask of certainty. A smile tugs at the corner of Erinbol’s thin mouth.

“You came here to sell her out, offer a symbol of your loyalty, but you cannot do it, can you? You are filled more with curiosity than conviction which means you may be starting to ask the right questions. Finally.”

“What do you know about her? About Dahlia?”

“She is a Winton,” Erinbol says evenly. “And a Winton is the crimson tip to the Masterton’s blue flame.”

“What about the others?”

“Patten is the spark and Gellar the accelerant. It has always been so.”

“The Four.”

“Yes, the Four. The stories you’ve heard are almost all true, unbelievable as they may seem. Even though it was not so long ago, the worlds have found a way to revise the fact that they were on the precipice of destruction. No one wants to admit how close it really was and, if it had not been for the Battle of Centerpoint, it wouldn’t have mattered. Now, it can go either way.”

Barrett inhales, keeping the blaster aimed squarely at the center of his forehead.

“If you knew how dangerous she was, why didn’t you warn the Emperor?”

“Why haven’t you? Why are you standing here and not before the throne?”

“I didn’t know until-“

“You only received confirmation of something you already suspected. You know something isn’t right here, things that are happening beneath the surface while you are safely distracted on Chandaar with the Republic. Schrag hasn’t told you everything but that is only because he knows both you and Agent Swire have been compromised.”

“I am not compromised.”

“Agents with far more experience and tenure have made the same claim and gone on to lay down their loyalty and lives for them. Although your meeting with Princess Winton was arranged, you have always been drawn to her.”

He thinks back to when he first saw her. It was on the Holo when he was at the Tarkin Academy. There was a feeling of both longing and connection within him, something he could not identify then let alone articulate it. He thought she was spoiled but strong, having survived a kidnapping and torture. She was someone beautiful but alone and that struck something in him.

“I was.”

“There is a reason for that as well.”

“And I suppose you are going to enlighten me on that too? You are crafty, Darth Erinbol, I’ll give you that but I will not fall for your mind tricks.”

“What motive do I have to deceive you? I’d be dead either way. Dahlia plays just as large a role as you do, only neither of you understand that yet. The Four has always posed something of a paradox, presented as the saviors or doom of our worlds depending on who you ask. The dreaded prophecy that drove their predecessors’ actions was leveraged callously but wisely by Dahlia’s biological father. He sought the same thing Schrag does, the very thing Dahlia herself delivered to him in exchange for exacting revenge on Vex Sienna.”

“Gellar’s sample.”

Erinbol nods, “Alexander Winton’s lust for immortality cost countless lives, including that of Emperor Dementat. Handled improperly, it will take Schrag as well. It takes all who seek it in the end. Remember, it killed Karen too. Do you want the same for Dahlia?”

Barrett’s grip on the blaster falters, lowering the weapon slowly.

“No.”

“Good,” Erinbol says. “As Dementat was for Karen, the only one who can temper Dahlia’s power is you.”

“I don’t have that kind of power.”

“But you do. Not light, not dark, but your connection to the Force is strong. It has been since you were a child. Think back and you will know this to be true.”

Barrett’s arm falls to his side, remembering his first fight at the Academy. All those skirmishes on Carida. His instincts were driven by something else, something beyond him. His prowess in the field and cunning in the Republic have always been fueled by something deeper. He’s tried to deny it and others have spun his gifts in combat and strategy on a tactical mind shaped by the finest Imperial education. The torches flicker then pulse brightly as if filled with new life.

“There. Do you see? There is a power in you too, greater than what you’ve been led to believe.”

He meets the Sith’s gaze, “Does the Emperor know?”

“Of course, he does. He’s always known. Why do you think you were hand-selected from the pack, chosen to be his right-hand?”

“Wouldn’t that…make me a threat?”

“Threats can be leveraged, as you well know. Risks are assumed if the reward is deemed worthy and having both you and Dahlia up his sleeve fall well within the acceptable range. Schrag has an out, a fail-safe should the tides turn.”

Barrett knows his words border on treason but they cannot be contained.

“I can understand that when it comes to me. Schrag knows where my loyalties lie. But Dahlia? Not so much. She is motivated more by self-interest than fealty to any faction. Then there is the question of the others. Gemma Masterton may be exiled from the Republic but that doesn’t make her any less of a threat. They all are in their own ways. Riley with the Corellian sympathies, Dane with whatever genetic magic that pulses through his veins. If the Emperor knows all this, why hasn’t he moved against them?”

Darth Erinbol places his hands together and moves back toward the altar and Barrett follows.

“That is an interesting question but one I think you already know the answer to. Imagine it. The Four of them together, sprawled out on the beach, makes for an easy target. Problem solved. Except, it’s not. Not with the truce with the Republic still tenuous and fresh. Killing the Four would jeopardize that truce and bring other factions into play. Factions we rely on for weapons, technology, and intelligence. From a strategic perspective, it would be unwise, especially if there are already others who have been vilified in their place.”

Barrett’s mind is spinning, snapping the pieces together as he would lay out a plan of battle. Keep up appearances, massage the misdirect, and give them another enemy to hate and fear.

“The Jedi are scapegoats.”

“Aren’t they always?” Erinbol says coldly. “Too passive to be proactive in their own downfall. It has happened before as it surely will again. Gemma, much like her sister, is the enemy with the face of an angel. She represents a power they do not understand and that which they do not understand is feared. Those on Chandaar point and blame each other, exposing and incarcerating anyone suspected of Force ability. Fear begets violence. The Jedi chase their tails while the real threat lies in wait right beneath their noses.”

“Dahlia.”

“The Princess has managed to make herself a hero of the people. Vapid as she may be, Dahlia is no fool. She was given something their predecessors were not – context. There is still much she doesn’t know but she at least has a better perspective from which to operate. That makes her as dangerous as it does valuable. In truth, Ambassador Trevaithan, it is why she is still alive.”

“What about Quentin? He knew the power she possessed and concealed it.”

“Ah, Agent Swire. He is an Unconventional Champion, wouldn’t you agree?”

He stirs at the phrase, something he has heard before. It was referenced in the Holo-doc about them, tied to a prophecy that engulfed the galaxy in turmoil. It was also designated on the file of Imperial Agent Scott St. Claire. He, too, was loyal but found himself protecting the Winton he was assigned to manipulate and control.

“The Empire knew he would fall for her.”

“Not entirely,” Erinbol says. “At least, not in a romantic way. It was presumed he would come to care for her, providing a shield for some of her worst impulses. Swire’s swarthy reputation on Carida made him the ideal candidate and his connection with you would all but assure your initial trust in the strategy. Schrag needs the focus to remain on the Jedi until we are fully ingratiated with the Republic.”

“Fewer and fewer Senators oppose the truce but there is enough resistance to undo what’s been done given the wrong move on our part.”

“The narrative against the resistance is nationalistic in nature, painting those who oppose the truce as against the galactic peace it brings. Even at the cost of their personal liberties, the public would rather have order over war. The Jedi became domestic terrorists many suspected they were. We brought the Republic the security they demanded and, with enough support, would willingly submit to leadership that can protect them from the Force-user-next-door.”

“A new Empire,” Barrett breathes.

It’s not like he hasn’t considered it seriously before. He even dreamt of a galaxy ruled by the Empire once more. Now, framed in such a way, he realizes he’s been part of that plan all along. Brash but practical, he humanized the Empire. Dahlia made him likable, just as the Emperor commanded and together, they changed the way the public saw the Empire – as one of them. Still, there is so much that was left to chance, so much that could have gone wrong, could still go wrong, that Barrett shutters at the possibilities.

“There is one complication.”

He snaps back into the conversation, “Which is?”

“The hunter.”

“I thought the Inquisitor was only after Gemma and the Jedi?”

“That is what you were told. Inquisitor Involis serves as…insurance. If given the opportunity, it would kill every single one of them. I’m surprised the Inquisitor hasn’t found them already given their recent media exposure on Hesperidium.”

He raises the blaster again, “You would send that monster after them? After Dahlia?”

“It wasn’t me who gave the order. Emperor Schrag did.”

“I thought you said-“

“I said he couldn’t move against them, not that they couldn’t be eliminated through other means by other, more familiar culprits. The Jedi would be stung by their expulsion with Gemma Masterton as the poster girl for their duplicity. Everyone else would be considered collateral damage.”

This was a revelation Barrett perpetrated. He released the photage that got her exiled.

“That cannot happen.”

“Then I suggest you get back there and break up the party.”

Barrett hesitates, lowering the weapon once more. Erinbol can feel the confliction in him, the doubt and anger growing. There is a question he cannot ask and the Sith does not make him.

“You want to know more about your power, your connection to the Force. And you will. I will show you. I can make you powerful too.”

“I came here to kill you.”

“I know.”

Barrett nods, turning to leave the chamber with Erinbol turning back to the flames.





-TBC

[Syren]

Byss: Imperial Capital

Surface: Imperial Citadel

The teal sky is tinged with dark, jagged clouds as Bashqek slips below the horizon. Dusk in the Deep Core is nothing short of mystical. Barrett Trevaithan watches Agent Gris meet a contingent of Imperial guards and medical droids at the shuttle ramp who then whisk an unconscious Dahlia into the Citadel. As she floats by on an enclosed hover-gurney, his slumbering princess beneath transparasteel, he remembers the afterglow of when they were last here together. The first time they made love.

He sighs, never feeling quite like himself on Byss. There is something deeper buried within him.

Darth Erinbol had taught him to suppress his Force signature to evade detection in the Republic but he now knows that’s not where the connection ends. His abilities in the field, an inescapable pull toward Dahlia, are part of the twisted workings of the Force. It is a connection he mistrusts but one he cannot deny. From what he understands, every living thing is connected to the Force but only those with special attunement can influence it. Some bend it to their will while others gain a deeper understanding and purpose. The Force isn’t exclusively tied to the Jedi or Sith, despite the publicity and legend. There are sensitive species and even outrageous rumors of a sentient droid with abilities.

So, where does he fit into all this?

He believed those with exceptional potential were trained from a young age. Schrag took notice of him in the Academy but Erinbol didn’t show up until he was a teenager. He thought this was because he didn’t have…whatever it was. The Sith confirmed otherwise on his last trip.

Agent Gris approaches him in the corridor, “The Emperor demands an audience.”

“I know my way,” he says, leaving the agent behind.

The path is winding and devoid of any disruptions but he soon finds himself before the throne room doors. He should have had this conversation the last time he came. Barrett was planning on selling Dahlia and Quentin out as a display of his loyalty to the mentor that took him under his wing. Schrag had been like a father but all fathers are inevitably fallible. Barrett is angry and confused but he could not disrespect him. Taking a breath, he strides into the throne room where Schrag is waiting.

He kneels before him, “My lord.”

“Your behavior concerns me, Ambassador. Was I in any way unclear in my directive to continue pushing our agenda on Chandaar?”

Barrett rises, “No.”

“Then you can imagine my surprise when I heard about your little detour from the Holo. Dahlia had her orders and you had yours. There was no overlap. Your disappearance prior to the incident and reappearance afterward on Hesperidium reflect a suspicion we just as soon avoid at this critical juncture of the truce. If you recall your tactful negotiations involved systems not aligned with either faction being allowed a choice. More and more systems have reached out to join the Empire. You framed the deal around lasting peace but the Republic has taken it too far. Their version of peace borders on tyranny which was by design. It is only a matter of time before the collection of systems demands a solution, one we can readily provide. I cannot have your exploits jeopardize this.”

He treads carefully, “You sound as though I’ve been compromised.”

“Interesting choice of words,” the Emperor says. “One that belies your feelings more than mine. I believe you have allowed certain variables to influence your judgment. Would you disagree with that statement?”

“Not at all. It is within the scope of my duties to amend behavior based on new information.”

“And what new information have you received?”

“According to Agent Swire, someone attacked the Bolerathon Tower. The description matches that of Inquisitor Involis.”

“The Inquisitor is hunting the Jedi and Gemma Masterton is a known associate. Her presence was covered extensively by the entertainment channels but was picked up by some of the larger and more politically motivated streams. You can imagine what kind of position having a Jedi in our backyard puts us in, Barrett. Even under the guise of a familial holiday.”

“Masterton owns the building.”

“Politically, that doesn’t matter. Tolerance of her presence gives the appearance of taking a side, one the Republic does not share.”

“If we want the Empire to be viewed as more sympathetic, that would be in our best interests. Systems that had been oppressed and seen their planets stripped of resources by previous regimes need to believe we only want the peace the truce stipulates. Killing her makes us no different than what the Republic has become."

“She put out a call-to-arms of resistance against us and the truce. House Masterton is ruled by their ideals, foolish as they may be.”

“You ordered the strike."

Emperor Schrag’s jaw hardens, “I did and, tactically, you know why."

He does know. Dahlia leveraged her assistance in procuring the sample of Dane’s genetic material to personally eliminate Vex Sienna and seize control of the Gellar-Masterton guardianship. It was supposed to be for their benefit but she had expressed no plans to exploit it for Imperial gain outside the sample. As Summer gave way to Fall, they had run out of the little time she bought them. Once Dane and Gemma turn eighteen, they no longer have any direct control over either of them. Either Dahlia played it pretty close to the designer vest or she was running out the clock. It wouldn’t be beneath her to want to see what havoc they may cause for Schrag. After all, she’s not his biggest fan after he ordered the murder of her adopted parents.

“Gemma was the target but anyone slain could be blamed on the Jedi, further fueling the Republic’s prejudice without implicating us.”

“Exactly and now that Masterton is out of the way we can proceed as planned.”

“Yes,” he says, opting not to dispute him. “But consider the risks. Ples Aguilar and Trichelle Corinthos were prominent figures as their families hold controlling positions on the Corporate Sector Direx Board. Their deaths on our soil strain lucrative business relationships.”

“You know as well as I do the Corporate Sector would never put their children before profits. Unless, of course, our reputation was cast in doubt by an outside influence.”

“I instructed Dane to hold until we spoke.”

“It seems that he did not.”

Barrett tenses, “I was not aware he made a formal statement.”

“The Direx Board did not give him a choice. They are just as concerned with how this reflects on them but it seems Gellar and Dawning performed admirably. Ambassador Pallus was impressed.”

“They went with the power-cell failure?”

“Better,” Schrag says through a gruff laugh. “The Chiss with backstory built into their own infighting. I’ll send you the file which you will then use to legitimize the narrative as part of official record. Our business relationship will not suffer and gives us ample space to further explore opportunities with ChemiX.”

“Understood. What about Princess Dahlia?”


The Emperor’s thin smile is not reassuring, “The galaxy believes her dead yet she lies unconscious but comfortable and secure within the Citadel on a heavily fortified world few would dare visit."

“Dahlia completed her mission and delivered Gellar’s sample to you but I do not understand the expected outcome."

“That is not your concern. Your focus is on Chandaar and the Republic at large. This veiled hostility isn’t getting at the real question here and it is testing my patience.”

“The real question?”

“How did Dahlia end up on Coruscant? I can understand why you wouldn’t want to share this with the ISB but it is only us now. Tell me. I’m more than a little curious as to how she pulled it off.”

“I don’t know,” Barrett says.

Schrag contemplates this but goes in another direction, “You are familiar with Alexia Winton?”

“I’ve read the file.”

“Karen’s as well?”

He nods.

“Then you know they were both tested – in their own ways. The whole reason the Empire summoned the family to the Core was due to their potential. Two girls with midi-chlorian counts that high could never be left to chance. Alexia’s test came at North Coruscant High; Karen’s on her first diploserv assignment to Contruum. It was believed that introducing them to traumatic stimuli would reveal the truest manifestation of their powers in ways that would allow the Empire to assess the threat. As history reflects, you can never be too careful with a Winton.”

And there it is.

“This was Dahlia’s test.”

“The Inquisitor’s secondary protocol has always been to ascertain this truth. A truth that has been confirmed in more ways than one. She is powerful, yes. She destroyed a tower and ended the lives of several thousand. Her unexplained appearance on Coruscant, however, raises some very serious concerns.”

Barrett knows where he is going with this.

“With a midi-chlorian count higher than both sisters combined, you can see the problem. We don’t know the extent of her power and a threat that cannot be quantified must be eliminated.”

Emperor Schrag calmly taps open a compartment attached to the throne and withdraws a small blaster. He descends the jagged black steps and, upon reaching Barrett, presses the weapon into his hands. The young Ambassador raises his eyes to meet the Emperors.

“Either you kill her,” he says. “Or I will.”








-TBC

[Syren]

“Isn’t it exciting? (what am I gonna do?)
Feels oh so inviting (just what you wanted to)
Is this what you wanted? (Mister Impossible)
No time for deciding (Mister Impossible)”
-Phantogram 

Byss: Imperial Capital 

Surface: Imperial Citadel 

Barrett Trevaithan is faced with a terrible choice.  

The Empire or the Princess? The Inquisitor’s attack on the Bolerathon Tower turned out to be Dahlia’s test, one that proved she is too dangerous to live, at least according to the Emperor. The unbridled darkness and power of the Winton bloodline make Dahlia a threat to everything they have built. Now, he has been tasked with ending her life. This is his test. She failed hers but will he fail his? Duty propels him forward, drifting through the winding, tenebrous corridors of the Citadel. The blaster feels heavy in his hand yet he clutches it tightly and marches on. Only he does not go to the chamber where the Empire is holding Dahlia and instead finds himself before the doors of the Sith sanctum once again. He is drawn here. The snap and hum beneath his surface, just out of reach, give him reason enough to want to know more. 

Darth Erinbol is standing over a small, circular pit while flames crackle and lick at his thin, gray fingers. The flickering reveals traces of a thin smile. 

“I felt you return.” 

He is not in the mood for Sith mind games. Barrett must find something to ground him in a life that has suddenly spiraled so far out of his control. 

“You taught me before. Teach me now.”

“Change of heart?”

“Circumstance.”

He lifts dark eyes to meet Barrett, "I am listening.”

“I need to know how I am connected to the Force. It is not like others.”

“No,” Erinbol says, appraising him carefully. “It is not but knowledge of your own connection is not the only reason you are here. I trust it is not to kill me this time." 

As much as he does not want to admit it, the words tumble out. 

“I seek your counsel. The Emperor wants Dahlia dead. You were right, he sent the Inquisitor after them.”

“You already knew that. I just gave a voice to your thoughts. You were young and spiteful when we first met. Emperor Schrag molded that spite into tact but it has always been the foundation upon which you operate, Barrett. You would not have come before me then nor would you be standing before me now. There is something you have always feared and your feelings for Dahlia only amplified that fear.”

“You told me she was my destiny.”

It is time for him to know. 

“Destiny framed around a prophecy that has been in play for far longer than anyone may realize. The original Four revealed its existence to the public because of who they were. They made for compelling Holo which, like any message, is filtered through its respective source. This is the reason why the new Four have been met with skepticism and doubt. Such is the nature of prophecies. They are often unspecific and easily crafted to fit the staged portrayals of those who see what they want to see and seek to rig the outcome in their favor. Alexander Winton and others did so in spectacular fashion but failed.”

Barrett drops his broad shoulders in a sickening realization, “We are the ones being staged now."

“As it was then, it is now. It has been for generations.”

“Generations? I do not understand.”

Erinbol moves slowly around the pit, “The Prophecy Persophonea was not nearly as specific as it was made out to be. It was not even discovered by Alexia Winton, as the sensationalized story goes, but merely placed there for her to find. Neither daughter of darkness or light were ever named, not in the original text anyway.”

“You have read the original…and never intervened on their behalf. That does not surprise me.”

“It is not our place to intervene.”

“Somehow I doubt that. Where did it come from?”

“I am afraid we do not have time for that now. What is important to know is that this cycle has happened many times before although none made it as far as Karen Winton did. Unfortunately, she was destroyed before she could assume the throne beside her Emperor who, in the prophecy, played the role of the Master.”

“What role do I play?”

“I think you know.”

He glances away, the entire concept too heavy for him to detangle at the moment. Barrett does not trust the Sith but he no longer trusts the Emperor either. The effort to coalesce around participants in a game they never knew they were playing is staggering. He wants to know how deep this hole goes. 

“You called Quentin the Unconventional Champion.”

“One whose loyalties do not align with those of the primaries of the prophecy yet they forsake everything they know to protect them. Quentin could have – should have – exposed Dahlia last year but he did not. Why do you think that is?”

“He is in love with her,” he hisses lowly. 

“In that role, romantic love is inconsequential. It is the purpose they inspire that truly matters.”

“You make Quentin sound noble when he is anything but. There is something else. From the clearly manipulated knowledge I have, there was said to be a catalyst. Someone who covets what the daughter of darkness has.”

“The Beast.”

“Is The Beast always a Winton?" 

“It is.”

“You cannot possibly be saying..."

“I do not have to say what Gemma’s Jedi companions have already discovered to be true. Once again the Jedi acted too late to stop what is coming.”

This further complicates things but he forces himself to focus on the purpose of the visit, “And Schrag?”

“That is the question, isn’t it? The reason you are really here. It is believed the prophecy can only end one way. Any variant outcome dooms others to begin the cycle again. As I have said before, Dahlia is operating with knowledge and context those that preceded her were not. She was shown her father’s schemes and how he manipulated them all in an attempt to live eternally through the legacy gene found within the Gellar bloodline.” 

“Then why give Emperor Schrag the sample?”

Erinbol chuffs, waving a hand across the air over the flames. 

“To prove to you his intentions, of course. You believe you are all being tested. This was Schrag’s. He failed. The allure of the legacy gene was too strong a pull for a tactician who sees an advantage in the long game. You would never have believed it otherwise. He used Dahlia’s exposure to plant the artifact on Chandaar and your prowess to negotiate the truce with the Republic, letting them all descend into a slowly imploding paranoid mess. His steady leadership would be their only way out in the end.”

Barrett’s jaw tightens, “And the two of us?”

“Tools to be leveraged in a zero-sum game. If you do not kill Dahlia, Schrag will kill you both with the legacy gene as a failsafe. However, I do not think he has gotten far. Schrag knows battle but he does not know science. Still, once you have fulfilled your purpose, he will have no use for you. He would need no successor if he can live forever. Remember, Schrag is no fool. He saw this coming together; your roles being clarified through circumstances advancing the narrative forward with no intervention of his own and he fears it. He fears you both. And, just like the Jedi, he cannot stop it. Now you know why he wants Dahlia dead and you submissive to his orders.” 

The anger rises in him, turning the glow of the fire into a brilliant inferno. 

“I trusted him.”

The Sith is pleased but there is a difference between knowledge and action. 

“Trust can be broken. Think of all you have done.”

“The truce? That only serves his ends.” 

“Coruscant does not.”

“Coruscant?”

He turns the final card, the one that would solidify his purpose. 

“You and Dahlia are the reason for its return. The Dark Queen of Hapes destroyed it trying to exact revenge on Karen Winton. Alexia Winton met her end amongst the ruins. Dahlia set in motion its reformation last summer but it was your union that gave the planet shape around a Sith artifact hidden at its center many years ago – an artifact called The Etheralis. That, dear Barrett, serves your end. Both of yours.”

Alarms rise in the distance, his eyes trailing from the angular Sith figure and the door. 

“Go now.”

“We are not finished.”

“There is a more pressing matter.”

“More pressing than this insane conspiracy? I do not believe for a moment that this was not staged around your own motives. We will be used no longer, Erinbol.”

“Go,” he says. “And you will see.”

Something tugs at him, drawing him away. With the blaster still in hand, Barrett departs. There is a glimmer of red light, the faintest outlines of symbols across the air as he passes through the doorway. He is outraged over the things Erinbol told him but there is no denying the sense everything now begins to make. It certainty gives destiny a new meaning. The corridors begin to change in as much an architectural choice as a mental one. It does not take him long to realize he is heading exactly where the Emperor had instructed him to go – Dahlia’s chamber. He arrives to find it unguarded and alarms blaring over his head. The room where Dahlia was being held lies empty. 

The princess is gone. 






-TBC

[Syren]

“It’s all still the same
Everything’s untouched but forever changed.”

-OK Go

Byss: Imperial Capital

Surface: Imperial Citadel

Barrett returns to the throne room knowing he would likely be walking to his death. Worth it, he surmises, if Dahlia got away. Come what may. No amount of tactical strategy would get him out of an order he was bound to disobey. Not this time. Not with Imperial motives called into question. His loyalties crystalize when he appears before a grimly expressed Emperor Schrag. The cavernous nature of the space only serves to amplify his isolation and determination. He would face this fate alone.

“It seems you have failed, Ambassador Trevaithan. The princess has escaped.”

“Was that not your intention?” he asks with a trace of accusation.

“You would be wise not to tell me about my intentions. Your conflict in this matter only reinforces its necessity. You do not see clearly when it comes to the Winton royal and that is a problem for me. She clouds your judgment; makes you question things that, until recently, had only been met with obedience and trust. These incongruencies are troubling as I have been more than clear with my orders. You falter under her influence and I cannot allow it.”

“Then why bring me to her in the first place? We were introduced to your behest.”

“A reluctant behest, mind you, and I needed something from her.”

“Gellar’s sample.”

“Among other things.”

“And now that you have it?”

The Emperor regards him coldly, rising from the throne to descend the steps in a menacing, measured pace. He knows the boy is compromised and at a precarious crossroads. That is why he was chosen along with Agent Swire. They each had roles to play but Quentin was expected to cross the line. Barrett was not. Now he edges closer to defiance that could undo everything they have worked so hard to build. He must remind him of their goal, an appeal to pull his protégé back from the brink of self-destruction. Schrag shifts his tone.

“You heard the stories as I have. Alexander Winton allegedly used Imperial resources for a special project through a joint and hidden venture with the Trade Federation. Nothing is on record, of course. Anyone operating at that level of risk would know to cover their tracks carefully and thoroughly. But there was enough anecdotal evidence to make it worth pursuing...and defending. We had to know for certain. When the first attempt at Gellar’s sample failed, the Sith managed to procure Patten’s. It was only after Dahlia delivered a viable Gellar sample that the two were compared and found to have identical components, only to a much greater degree in Gellar’s. These components were integral for replication and integration with technology in ways the Empire can leverage. It proved the stories to be true, bringing life where life does not exist. Imagine the possibilities, Barrett. Dahlia sowed the seeds and the Republic is collapsing in on itself. We need now only the right moment to emerge as their saviors to reclaim what is rightfully ours. The truce you constructed and negotiated was always meant to this very end.”

“As it serves your interests,” he counters. “Much like the legacy gene’s applications serves as a path to immortality. What I also remember from those stories is how it ended. Winton died and presumably his project did as well.”

“His daughter and their friends undermined him.”

“What makes you think his daughter will not do the same now? Or, is that why she must die? Her powers are dangerous but not as dangerous as the potential for her to replicate the plans that foiled her father’s obsession. He used them as you are using us and that is a problem for me.”

“Clever boy,” Schrag sighs. “I am disappointed but not surprised. You are not the first they have turned but rest assured you will be the last.”

The Emperor knocks Barrett’s blaster aside before he has it fully drawn, landing a solid open-handed blow to the center of his chest. Barrett tumbles backward, pulling himself into a roll to skid on his boots and rise in a fighting stance. Schrag advances on him.

“You would risk it all, everything we have done, for her?”

“I would. We were never part of the eventual outcome. This long con was only meant to bring you closer to a position where you could extend your own life and rule through the legacy gene the same way Winton hoped to.”

“Your deaths will ensure our dominance,” Emperor Schrag growls. “A sacrifice for our cause. It is a shame you could not see that. Not to worry, once I finish you, I will find Dahlia and finally put an end to the Winton name. It will only be a matter of time until I dispose of Gellar and Patten too so that The Four will never pose a threat to the Empire again.”

Barrett shakes his head, “That is where you are wrong. Underestimating them cost many lives in the past and you will fare no better. Change course or you will wind up paying the same price."

“I decline.”

They charge at each other with the ferocity of a soured father-son relationship. Schrag had been drawn to him and came to see Barrett as an equal and eventual successor. Now he sees that the boy is no different than Dementat; a brilliance and talent dampened by the seductive influence of that rancorous redhead. He would meet his end the same way, avenging her ambiguous honor. Schrag had been skeptical of the Sith's counsel, whispers that they, like the others, had been acting on some kind of cosmic loop. He did not believe it until this moment.

They are spiraling toward a future he can only prevent in one way.

Barrett slams into Schrag with his shoulders, forcing him back against the stone steps. The Emperor flips him around, tightening his arm around Barrett’s throat. Using the stairs to ground himself, he smashes his head into the Emperor’s face with enough give for him to escape his grip. Barrett whirls around, jabbing him twice but when he goes for a third, the Emperor lands a kick to the side of his head. He loses footing, staggering down the steps, and crashes on the floor. The Emperor towers over him and Barrett places a hand up in defense as he lunges forward. Inky black tendrils of smoke curl around his arm to form a staff with a pointed edge that plunges into the center of Schrag’s chest. The Emperor gasps and coughs a violent spray of blood across Barrett’s face. His head rolls forward, arms slack, against the weight of the imperceivable weapon. Barrett closes his hand and the staff vanishes in a wisp of smoke. Schrag falls forward, landing dead against the floor with a sickening thud.

Confused, Barrett scrambles backward. He does not know how this happened but one thing remains clear from the darkening pool of blood expanding around Schrag’s body: he has murdered the Emperor.

“Well done, lover,” Dahlia says, emerging from the shadows of the throne room in an impossibly tight black jumpsuit and heeled boots. Her lightsaber swings from an asymmetrical belt which she grazes with gloved fingers as she moves closer to him. “It was him or us and as I told you before, I will not be a pawn in the games of others. This is our path to forge."

“Where…did you even get that?”

She runs a hand up her thigh, “Oh, this old thing? Let us stick to the relevant narrative inconsistencies, shall we? We were being used to further Schrag’s endgame, one that included our deaths and countless others. You did the right thing.”

“But what did I do? I cannot explain it…”

“It is called the spear of midnight black,” Erinbol explains as he appears behind Dahlia. “The Darkshear. And it has always been a part of your connection to the Force.”

“No, I never-“

“You have. Think back to your days at the Carida Academy, fights you engaged in where your opponents sustained injuries that could not have come from the physical altercation alone. The spear is only one manifestation of the weapons you can conjure, only a fraction of your capabilities as a warrior of the dark side.”

Spun, Barrett’s eyes drop slowly to Schrag’s body, “He is dead, Dahlia. Once discovered, there will be a coup and we do not have the allies to formally succeed him.”

“We will not need them, not yet anyway.”

“Your cavalier and predictably glib response are, as usual, not helpful. Even if we claim the throne, we will be quickly overthrown and executed. The Republic will seize on this opportunity to further capitalize on the stage that we set.”

“Darling, you were just so adamant against underestimating me. Do not tell me you are having second thoughts now?”

“Your social scheming will not undo what I have done.”

“Do not be so certain,” she says, glancing over her shoulder as Emperor Schrag steps out of the shadows to join them. Barrett’s eyes widen, glancing between Dahlia and Darth Erinbol.

“What is this? A trick? A glamour?”

She smiles, “A stand-in. Our Sith allies have lent their talents to us before, infiltrating even the most secure circles. The strategy is simple, lover. The Emperor will be replaced with a Voss-Ra disciple to rule as a figurehead and remain here on Byss. With Erinbol’s assistance, we will be allowed space and time to execute Schrag’s plan, only without the immortality angle.”

Erinbol steps in and kneels beside the Emperor’s body, lowering his head and placing two fingers against the center of his back. Schrag’s body and surrounding pool of blood turn a pale grey, crack apart and begin to swirl in a cloud of ash that disappears into the darkness of the room. The Voss-Ra “Schrag” ascends the stairs to the throne, watching silently above them. Barrett turns to Dahlia with a renewed sense that they are finally on the same page.

“I love you but I need answers.”

Dahlia takes his hands in hers.

“And you shall have them but we must find and destroy any ties to the legacy gene. Going down that path will only lead to our demise as it has for anyone who ever pursued it. Promise me, Barrett. That is not our destiny. We will save the Republic in order to build and rule our new Empire but the legacy gene distorts any real sense of meaning. There are no stakes if we can live forever. So, when we die, we die."

"How...pragmatic of you."

"I know," she says, gently touching the side of his face. "It is why we will build a legacy worth remembering.”








-TBC

[Syren]

“Just like a sin, those tinted eyes
Hold your disguise, I should know better.”

-DVBBS

Byss: Imperial Capital

Surface: Imperial Citadel

“The end of the legacy gene,” he says. “I swear it.”

“Why do I feel like there is a ‘but’ coming on?”

“Because there is. I do not know where Schrag was conducting his tests.”

Dahlia gingerly wipes flecks of the Emperor’s blood off Barrett’s face, “Surely you have an idea, darling. You were closer to him than anyone.”

“I do.”

She smiles, “Let’s hear it then.”

“The agents who experimented with the ChemiX serum, Ibellum, operate somewhere deep in the bowels of the Citadel. They pulled the strings with Vex and continue to do so with Quinn. If we can find them, it is a good bet we can find where the legacy gene is being tested.”

She feels a pang, possibly guilt but probably not, of having thrust her vapid friend into a world of clandestine mystery and danger. So, it is just like modeling except everyone has weapons. It had to be done in order to get here.

“Let the hunt begin.”

“There is something I need to know first. How did you survive? How did you survive the destruction of the Bolerathon Tower and wind up on a recently reformed and somehow habitable Coruscant? You must tell me that.”

“I could tell you,” Dahlia says slyly. “But I would rather show you.”

Barrett looks confused but Dahlia reaches out a hand toward him and the other toward Erinbol. Once the three of them are connected, he gasps as his eyes disappear into a white flash.

*

Bolerathon Tower, interior. Winton Penthouse. Living room. Dahlia is hovering in the air in front of the Inquisitor, pulsing black sphere around them, one hand on the lip of its armor and the other bringing the pink saber down. The sphere winks out and everything goes dark. It materializes with both of them inside, only now they are in the center of a sprawling field. Four rock formations frame the pair and the Inquisitor seizes on the confusion to make a move, leveraging the distorted momentum to grab and toss her aside. Dahlia uses the Force to control the fall, digging in with those platform sandals to stop the skid and rises enraged in a fashionable minidress. Not exactly a battle outfit but it would do. She stalks forward, throwing out her free hand to send a powerful shockwave launching the Inquisitor back. In an instant, she is looming over it with a saber at its throat.

“You are beaten.”

“As it was written,” it says. “So it shall be.”

“I will never join you.”

“No, it is I who will join you.”

Dahlia backs away, keeping the saber out in front of her, “Get up, asshole. In the tower, you said the time of the Sith had passed.”

The Inquisitor rises and laughs beneath the mask, “What it once was, not what it could be. With you.”

“Who are you?”

“I am the Inquisitor Involis.”

“That part I know. Who are you really?”

The green saber disappears into the armor, reaching up to pull off the mask. Male, older, with features that are somehow familiar to her. All three Winton sisters share the same face and lips of the Queen, soft and full, but eyes, complexion, and hair come from Alexander Winton. Pale yet dazzling and bold. The Inquisitor has the same eye shape, the same oval face only with the olive complexion of her mother.

“Someone closer than you think. My name is Seif, son of Medivh Guldon of the Trade Federation and Elle Greyson, sister of Queen Monica Greyson and your aunt.”

“No,” Dahlia breathes. “That is impossible.”

“Is it?”

“I searched my records when I found out who I really was and my aunt died when she and my mother were teenagers, long before Karen and Alexia were born!”

Seif smirks, “Records, as you well know, can be falsified. I was taken from my mother on Naboo, someone plagued with the same visions as your own, and raised on Empress Teta. But it was not long before the Voss-Ra found me, told me of my true heritage, and I trained under the Sith.”

She shakes it off, the heavy familial weirdness, finally taking a moment to look around.

“Fascinating. Where the hell are we?”

“On the surface of Coruscant.”

“I’m sorry, what? How is that even, like, possible?”

“The Force has so much more to offer than anyone realizes or dares explore. Fortune favors the bold and you, Princess Dahlia, are the boldest of the Winton’s.”

“Obviously. Now, where’s my crown?”

“Waiting for you to claim it but there is work we must do first.”

“We?”

“You are the rightful heir, the one who will fulfill the prophecy, and I have been called to serve as your protector.”

Dahlia places a hand on her hip, “Ummmm, you, like, literally just tried to murder me.”

“And yet here you are. Think the others can say the same?”

She glances up at the glittering moon faded against the stark blue skies of Coruscant. She thought she had given them enough time to escape but now she is not so sure. Could she really be the last of The Four? To the victor goes the spoils or whatever. As he moves closer, a circular piece at the center of his armor glows a brilliant green. She cannot help but stare, mesmerized by a dark power calling out to her.

He brings an armored glove to it.

“It is connected to the Etheralis, the artifact you placed at the center of this system which, combined with the power of The Four, allowed for the reformation of Coruscant. It is your first gift to the galaxy, one of many your rule will bring. There is an undeniable power in your collective efforts, one that makes you target for elimination. The plan is in motion but dangerous obstacles remain, namely the Emperor which is why you will allow yourself to be captured by him.”

“I most certainly will not! He has had it out for me from the beginning.”

“Schrag is no fool. He saw the threat Karen posed and what it did to Dementat. Even though you have proved useful, he knows that if he is to keep the throne you must not survive. It will be either him or you. Your champion must choose.”

“My…you mean Barrett?”

Seif nods, “I am sorry, daughter of darkness, but your fate is tied to the Master’s.”

“So, in order to present that choice, I must offer myself up as some kind of sacrifice? That totally sucks!”

“Come on, Dahlia, everyone is dying to know how this ends.”

*

Barrett blinks, jerking away from them. Reality spirals back to him and the throne room slowly comes back into focus.

“You…you…set me up?”

“No, a choice was presented and you chose. Well done, darling."

He holds up a hand, mouth dry, as he processes everything he just saw and heard.

“Wait. You teleported to the surface of Coruscant and the Inquisitor is…your cousin?”

She flips her hair, shrugging, “Wild, right? The mystery deepens.”

Barrett turns angrily toward Erinbol, “How does that make him a Winton? You said there was another.”

“From a certain point of view.”

“Do not give me that religious perspective bullshit. How?”

He glances at Dahlia. She sighs, "Go ahead, blow his mind."

“The same thing that makes them all who they are. A single inception point, a shared ancestor, that spawned the four families over the course of generations. He is but one of those descendants, four families whose names we all know - Winton, Masterton, Gellar, and Patten – originated from the same individual, our reverend mother, the dark goddess Persephone.”

“You knew about this?”

Dahlia shakes her head, “I found out right before you did. Apparently, we are on some kind of cosmic loop. It does explain why some of the things that have happened, well, happened.”

Darth Erinbol continues, “Winton is Gellar is Masterton is Patten. They are one and the same. The Winton and Masterton lines possess Force ability while Patten and Gellar the legacy gene. Together, or used in combination with one another, there are extremely powerful yet unpredictable outcomes.”

“What about me? I am not…like…?”

“No,” Erinbol says quickly. “The Master has never been a descendant.”

While Barrett mentally spins out, Dahlia muses on it now that she has a moment. So, she is technically related to Dane which makes all his jabs about their lack of a biological connection all the more laughable. She cannot wait to throw that in his face. Well, if he survived their Bolerathon boom-boom time. The incestual twist in Gemma and Riley’s relationship is just too much. This shit just got interesting.

“The Voss-Ra saw in their blood magics the potential for The Four to unite the galaxy in peace, obliterating any chance for the prophecy to come to pass. They swore death on anyone who stood in the way of what they consider the essence, the philosophy behind fulfilling the Prophecy Persephonea.”

Erinbol’s eyes shimmer beneath the hood of his robe.

“A philosophy called The Crimson Covenant.”





-TBC

[Syren]

“Feelin the pressure
Baby, know the pressure’s only coming from you.”

-James Vickery

Byss: Imperial Capital

Surface: Imperial Citadel

Before they arouse suspicion by charging into unknown areas of the Citadel in a quest to destroy the legacy gene, they need a plan and plenty of practice. They could delve into the Voss-Ra philosophy when they had a better sense of their capabilities.

Barrett spends long, grueling days with Darth Erinbol honing his gift. The training is intense but rewarding as Barrett begins to finally understand his connection to the Force and what they may mean in the larger sense. The Darkshear is unique and holds more potential than anyone realized. It is slow going at first but Erinbol starts gradually, guiding Barrett to find a connection that has been ever-present just below the surface which is much more prominent when fueled by the dark power emanating from Byss. For every failure, the Sith builds him back up. While the boy may be older than most to begin such training, he is a soldier and tactician by nature. An experienced fighter with a formal background at the Carida Academy, Barrett learns quickly and is not deterred by the early setbacks. He approaches it with everything he has and progress is both swift and impressive.

By the end of the first week, he is able to produce an array of melee weapons, slashing his way through the training courses Erinbol sets with increasing levels of difficulty. By the end of the second, he can conjure a protective shield and set of kinetic axes to throw with a precision the Sith has not seen in some time. The boy is talented and determined. Even with the questions that linger, he can push them aside to complete the objectives set before him. For the next phase, Erinbol brings Dahlia in first as a sparring partner then to see how they work together. Although he manages to hold his own, Barrett is ultimately no match for the Winton royal. She had been expertly trained and remains remarkably versed in her skillset. As partners, their abilities complement one another nicely which is what Erinbol had hoped. His Darkshear weapons and combat skills combined with her controlled telekinetic and saber attacks make them extremely formidable opponents who leave the training room decimated. +

Darth Erinbol is pleased.

As Barrett continues to train, Dahlia catches up on galactic events. As far as everyone else is concerned, she went down with the Bolerathon Tower. So too, did Gemma, it seems. She has been confined to the Citadel for now as they could not afford to have her status leak just yet. There would be time for a grand resurrection, one that will both surprise and delight. She sees that Dane and Alka made it back to the Corporate Sector and testified before the Direx Board that the Chiss were responsible for the attack. Interesting. Ambassador Burke Pallus apparently circumstantially confirmed this account. The narrative details track as Balthazar Nash had a clear motive to go after them considering what happened to Roman. The body count of CSA offspring in connection with the Chiss would make for compelling drama and it appears the Direx Board members moved swiftly, all but crippling Palace Arms’ position within the sector. She is surprised to discover that they accepted a bid by ChemiX for acquisition…spearheaded by Dane Gellar. Well, wonders never cease. Guess Lord Gellar sobered up enough to exact his own revenge for Preston and Roman’s deaths, even if the foundation of the takeover was based on lies. Dahlia is actually happy for him, taking control of his destiny and plowing forward despite everything that has happened. His expanding power could be useful to them in the end.

Her feelings about Gemma, however, are mixed. They had always been adversarial given their proclivities and leanings but despite the hatred Adubell tried to sow in her, she never really blamed Gemma. Rutherford and Celeste, as nurturing as they had been during their second chance at getting parenthood right, had their own sins to contend with. Those sins led to Alexia’s insanity and Karen’s demise at the hands of Melanie. They both paid the price for it and she had grieved those losses. She scans the headlines for anything about Riley and while there are many theories about what the boy billionaire is up to, it seems no one really knows where he is. The official word is that he had taken time away to grieve Gemma’s death with the Holo nearly rabid with speculation about what he may do to avenge her. She wonders if he would feel differently if he knew where they all really came from.

On that note, Dahlia feels bad that she lied to Barrett about knowing the origins of The Four. Erinbol did fill her in when she came to him before the big Barrett-Schrag showdown but what he did not know was that it was not the first time she had heard the tale. Darth Immortus told her that she was the one who carried the full power of the prophecy within her. She just needs Barrett to believe they are on equal footing, at least until he grapples with the realities of who they are and what they represent – the end of the prophecy and future of the Sith. Immortus believes that combining two of the four could make her immortal but what served as the sole motivator for her father was not what motivated her.

Princess Dahlia does not want to be immortal.

The concept is almost repulsive to her – why spend your days watching everyone you love and care about die around you? Besides, such power was known to distort one's physical image, making them hideously deformed and there was no way in hell she would forgo these good genes for someone else’s grand vision. She and Barrett would make their own, rule their Empire, age gracefully, and hopefully, one day see it passed down to their equally attractive and talented heirs.

After a few unbelievably difficult weeks of training, they come together in his chamber. It is a bit sparse for her tastes but comfortable none the less, a sanctuary away from the rest of the worlds. They had made love more times than she can count and their bond had grown considerably. Each of them was still withholding information but they were getting closer to the kind of partnership that would make them the kind of rulers this galaxy needs.

“I never knew I had it in me,” he says, falling onto the bed completely spent.

She lowers herself down beside him, “I did.”

“Is that so?”

“I knew it would take you time to get there but I sensed it the moment we met.”

“I thought you hated me.”

“Oh, I definitely did. You hated me too. It is often the case when one meets their match.”

He laughs, “Match?”

“You can stop pretending like I did not wipe the floor with you during our sparring sessions.”

“This is all new for me!”

“Keep telling yourself that, darling.”

His smile fades as he rolls onto his back, staring up at the dark ceiling. She pulls her legs onto the bed.

“Too far?”

“No,” he says. “It’s just…Schrag. Can’t seem to get it out of my head.”

“He chose, Barrett. He chose himself over you or anyone else. If you had not stopped him, he would have created who knows how many clones of himself to rule forever. You would have outlived your usefulness eventually.”

“Logically, I know that. But he was my friend, a mentor that I trusted. How do I reconcile the fact that I murdered him?”

“You protected both of us."

“By killing him.”

She sighs, reaching out to run a hand over his arm. It is finally time to come clean.

“We have that in common.”

“What do you mean?” he asks, even if he has an idea.

“I murdered Muriel Monroe, my best friend. The one person I thought I could trust above all others. You know, after my kidnapping, I found Muriel floating in her pool. She had taken too many pills. I could have let her drown. In fact, the Sith had warned me against attachments but I just could not bring myself to do it and I rescued her. But in the end, Muriel and Tobias discovered what I was and I could not let them escape the Bolerathon Tower with that knowledge. True, Quentin helped me cover it up but I set that all in motion. I made the decision and it is something I have carried with me for years.”

Barrett turns over and sits up, taking her hands in his.

“Why did you never tell me? Why let me wonder what you were hiding? I feel like you never trusted me enough.”

Dahlia lowers her head, “The truth? I believed that despite your feelings for me, your loyalty was always to the Emperor and his agenda. Confessing this would have proved him right, that I was too dangerous and I feared you may turn on me.”

“I could have turned on you with your gamble in allowing Schrag to capture you.”

“You could have but this would have all played out very differently. The prophecy would remain unfulfilled and the cycle would begin again. All these people would have died for nothing."

He reaches out and strokes the side of her face, sitting up to bring his lips to hers. Barrett has never felt closer to her than in these past few weeks. Finally, they were getting to a place of trust but there was still one card not played. He would play it now. She risked it all for him and now he would return the gesture.

“As long as we’re being honest, there is something you should probably know too.”

“Tell me.”

“Gemma survived the explosion at Bolerathon Tower,” he says. “And I let her go.”






-TBC

[Syren]

“Wandering stars, for whom it is reserved
The blackness of darkness forever.”

-Portishead

Byss: Imperial Capital 

Surface: Imperial Citadel 

“I’m sorry, what?”

“You heard me,” he says, rising from the bed. “It was a choice made under duress. The tower had exploded and I found everyone on the beach. Trichelle was mortally wounded and they were asking questions, speculating over your motivations behind inviting them there. That’s when the others showed up.”

“What others?”

“Some guy with tats and a blaster and a girl with purple hair and a lightsaber.”

Dahlia hisses, “Demaris.” 

“Friends of yours?”

“More like a self-righteous thorn in my side but who can really tell these days?” 

Demaris would not be a problem if the Voss-Ra had taken her out but all they managed to do was drive her right into the arms of the Jedi. Adubell would be laughing in her face right about now but it is not like she has a reputation to protect. Everyone already suspects a Winton to do something crazy which is why she had to keep distance between herself and any adverse action taken against the Jedi. The goal was to keep this about the Republic’s vendetta, not introduce further doubts about her. 

“It is not your fault but I was hoping to be down a couple of members of The Four by now. At least Gemma and Riley. They are definitely the most annoying. Dane is still useful. What was the consensus about the trip to Hesperidium?”

Barrett crosses his arms, “They were convinced you brought them all together because of Coruscant.”

“You and I reformed Coruscant.”

“But we did not give it life. The planet began rapidly terraforming after you four arrived on the resort moon. It baffled even the most seasoned Imperial scientists. Care to elaborate?”

She shrugs, “There was a mystical element to the Bolerathon Tower, no surprises there. Those that died within it were seemingly trapped in spirit form but Gemma found a way to release them. Combined powers of The Four, etc. etc. and poof – Coruscant lives!”

“Incredible. How did she do it?”

“A Sith incantation, if you can believe it. She did not seem to know or care where it came from as long as it worked. And boy, did it ever. It may have helped things along but it does not change the fact that the prophecy is pretty specific about the endgame.” 

“Only one can survive, right?”

“Or so the story goes. I am supposed to be dead so it is not like I can go traipsing around just yet so we will have to engineer a way to eliminate the others by circumstance.” 

Barrett cocks his head back, “This is your family, Dahlia. Can you really get rid of them so easily?” 

“It is not like I do not care about them. I do. But this is bigger than them, than any of us really. The Voss-Ra is an ancient order who worshipped my sisters and now me. They likely had their hopes pinned on others in our bloodline as well. Whatever the Crimson Covenant is, I am guessing it centers around a belief that the true Winton will restore the Sith to power. We are talking True Believers with a capital T and capital B. They spent Maker knows how long cajoling things along only for the last cycle to come the closest and fail. There is a lot riding on this and it seems the only way to end the prophecy is to fulfill it. It is us or them, Barrett. I choose us.”

He extends a hand which she takes as he draws her against him. 

“That is what worries me the most – the cajoling part. Who is to say they do not have ulterior motives and we are just means to their end?”

She smiles, “That is an excellent question, one I am certain Erinbol will clarify over dinner.” 

“You trust him?”

“I trust that we want the same things. He leveraged the Inquisitor under Schrag’s nose and helped you find your power all so we could reach this point. I say that at least earns our attention and respect.”

“For now.”

*

Princess Dahlia and Ambassador Trevaithan join Darth Erinbol and Faux-Schrag in the Emperor's private dining hall. He sports a fitted formal uniform emblazoned with the Imperial sigil while Dahlia chose a shimmering aubergine gown from the collection on the royal cruiser. Her crimson hair is pulled back into a braided bun with black chandelier earrings and heels. Faux-Schrag sits silently at the head of the table, a stoic figurehead for their stage. Erinbol is to his left. Barrett takes the right and Dahlia sits directly across. The meal is delicious but soon the banter veers toward their mission. 

“The operation on Chandaar is complete.”

“Good,” Erinbol says. “Might as well make use of the tools we have available.”

“What operation?”

“A hit on a Republic firm, one that represented opponents of the F.U.R.A.” 

“Courtesy of the Q’s?”

He nods, “It will further divide them and prove a very fine point. The Republic can no longer be trusted. Their actions have become authoritarian, their worst fears realized, which is sure to cause an uproar in the Senate. I have already voiced my disapproval of their singular focus as it leaves them open to attack.”

Dahlia takes a sip of wine, “One I am sure you have already planned.”

“Their borders will be tested with Imperial forces saving the day. Further proof they need more stable leadership. Leeds has become the monster we wanted him to be, thanks to you.”

“The Force works in mysterious ways.”

Erinbol smiles thinly, “Everything is coming together as it should. For that, we are grateful.”

“As much as I appreciate the sentiment, there are still several loose ends.” 

“You speak of the others. They will be dealt with.” 

“How exactly?” 

“Three assets have been released back into separate environments that should further tip the scales in our favor. The Corellian asset has been activated and their actions will draw the Republic’s scrutiny and wrath. As this is likely the location where Gemma Masterton and Riley Patten will reappear, they will be lost in the ensuing fallout.”

Corellia. What is it about that place anyway? Like, a shitload of people from their epic saga died there, including the original Four. It could be the perfect place for another slew of deaths, especially if it was designed with that in mind. Dahlia’s mind veers elsewhere. 

“Is Garron Prescott one of these assets?”

“He is, Darth D’Cera. Please forgive my lack of candor during your last visit. The real Schrag would never have agreed to such actions given how they benefit both of you.”

“I see, so Garron’s presence in the Corporate Sector has Dane covered.”

“His companies’ acquisition of Palace Arms, at the suggestion of Ambassador Pallus, puts them in a lucrative position. For everyone involved.”

“And the third asset?”

“Janessa Kain in the Republic.”

“Pity,” Dahlia says. “I quite admire her.”

“Now she will be a vessel for your ascension. She fell in our lap after digging into Prescott’s disappearance, we believe on the directive of Dane Gellar.”

“That is bold, even for him.”

“If she found out we had him then Gellar could never be swayed.”

“Understandable. I was on the fence with you lot as well. I hate being kept in the dark.”

“Surely you realize things had not progressed to point where this information would have done what we needed it to. You may have reacted poorly and compromised events leading Schrag to kill you both. We could not allow that.”

Barrett clears his throat and smirks at her. Dahlia rolls her eyes. 

“Although the F.U.R.A. gives us insight and locations of those with Force sensitivity and the Jedi’s numbers have been significantly reduced, they are still a lingering threat. Thankfully, it is being handled.” 

The Inquisitor steps out of the shadows, an ominous presence in his glowing armor. 

“So,” Barrett says. “This is the infamous Inquisitor Involis. I do not think we have been properly introduced given the cruel politics of, well, pretty much everything we do.”

“It is a pleasure to finally meet you, Barrett Trevaithan. Your work with the truce was nothing short of inspiring although I much prefer to operate outside the system for obvious reasons.”

“And you are quite skilled at it from what I hear. I believe you already know the princess.”

He turns, bowing slightly. 

“Yes, we share more than a common goal. I am Seif Greyson-Guldon, cousin of the daughter of darkness.”

“I take it the real Schrag knew nothing of this connection.”

Erinbol shakes his head, “I assure you he did not as the liability would have been too great.”

“I am here to serve you both,” Seif says. “In whatever capacity you need.”

“I am pleased to hear it even if I do not entirely believe it. If this really is a loop and you are the Beast in this cycle then you covet what Dahlia has as Alexia did with Karen. Forgive me if that does not inspire much trust.”

"Barrett..."

"No, let him speak. I am sure you are curious as well." 

“Desire, yes as it is an enviable destiny yet it is not mine to have. Covet implies a begrudging of the one who has it but I do not begrudge you or Dahlia. You are the rightful heirs and I look forward to proving that to you both.” 

Barrett and Seif stare silently at each other for an uncomfortably long time. 

“Awkwaaaard,” Dahlia sighs dramatically. “We get it, you are skeptical, darling but do allow him a chance to show us what he can do. There are many moving parts with much we cannot leave to chance. Speaking of, how can you be so sure Gemma and Riley will end up on Corellia?”

“I would not worry about it, your Highness.”

“And why is that?”

“Because someone on their team is actually on ours.”







-TBC

[Syren]

“We can’t escape who we are
Story repeating, circles are meeting
And now it’s taking us back to the start
We try to fight it, but can’t live without it.
The games (the games) we play (we play)
Are written by our dark, dark hearts.”

-Annie

Byss: Imperial Capital 

Surface: Imperial Citadel

A hush falls over the throne room. 

The imposter Emperor watches closely with Darth Erinbol floating on one side and the Inquisitor a silent sentinel on the other. Below, Princess Dahlia and Barrett Trevaithan assume fighting stances on opposite ends of the room. Erinbol wanted to show the Voss-Ra disciple, as well as the Inquisitor, the progress the two have made and staged a sparring match for their enjoyment. 

A command from Faux-Schrag starts the match and the pair charge toward one another. Dahlia’s pink saber connects with the arsenal of weapons Barrett produces through his Darkshear powers in a spectacular fashion. Erinbol has worked with him extensively and exhaustively to tap into his connection with the Force to conjure the tools necessary for the adaptive nature of the battle. He is impressive in his newfound powers, countering her strikes and forcing her back into a defensive position. When she uses one of his Force created weapons as a platform to flip over him, Barrett erects a protective shield around himself that looks like a framework of imposing black, jagged paint strokes. She lands solidly, eyes pools of darkness, as she collects kinetic energy in her free hand and uses the pulse to shatter his shield and send him skidding across the stone floor.

“Princess Dahlia wins.” 

Erinbol and the Inquisitor applaud. They have been training daily, carefully honing their skills and powers to work independently as well as together. They are in the best shapes of their lives and more in sync than ever. Erinbol had programmed increasingly difficult and dangerous sessions for them to fight their way out of with marvelous results. They must be prepared for anything. 

She bows deeply then moves to help Barrett up. 

“I almost had you.”

“Did you now? I will admit changing up the weapons throughout the fight kept me more off-guard than usual…”

She stumbles a bit but he is there to steady her. 

“Hey, you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, this grueling training schedule must be catching up to me.”

Erinbol hovers down the steps to join them, “Well done, you two. Barrett, your adaptability and control has greatly improved. And Dahlia. You seem to have found a balance neither of your sisters achieved.” 

“Is that so?”

“Alexia was reckless and allowed the dark side to consumer her while Karen was too hesitant and self-involved to explore the full extent of her range.” 

“Something I suspect could have been rectified with more effective communication from those behind the curtain.” 

“The wheels were already in motion, your Highness.” 

She smirks, hand finding its way to Barrett’s as they return to their chamber. Dahlia shares some of those same concerns about her familial history with the Force, not wanting to lose control the way she did on Hesperidium. Ever since she wound up on the newly reformed and rapidly terraforming Coruscant, she has been at one with her power. She feels more in control. Her connection to the Force comes with ease and the dark current pulsing beneath the surface no longer holds the same sense of taboo and terror it once did. Still, she had begun to feel off in the past week or so. Fatigued, sometimes a little dizzy. She has been pushing herself beyond her typical physical capacity which is great for her capabilities but definitely starting to take its toll. She needs a long nap but first, a hot shower and a lavish meal. These had become something of a regular occurrence but she rather enjoys the opulence and, surprisingly, the company as well. 

When she steps out of the bathroom, she finds Barrett already changed for dinner. She allows the servant droids to help her dress and style her hair but sends them away when she notices Barrett begin to pace while frowning at a datapad. 

“What is it? You are making me nervous with that dour expression.” 

He glances up, catching her eye. 

“I must return to Chandaar. There have been…developments that need my attention. The Senate is convening and while I have been a consistent remote presence, something tells me these matters will escalate in our favor more quickly if I am there in the flesh.” 

“Anything interesting?”

“The arrest of the Corellian Senator.” 

“How thrilling,” she says, dabbing color on her lips. “I take it everything is going according to plan?”

“Indeed. There are rumors Senator Soldys is only the first in the Republic’s quest to punish those with sympathies for the Force-sensitives of the galaxy. Other systems that have sided with them on this issue are now on full alert. The Speaker is positively livid from what I gather. They are looking to make an example. I was hoping to have taken the Senator’s counsel out of the equation with the hit on the firm, leaving him floundering and exposed, but she somehow survived. I am not sure what good it will do him though.” 

“The Corinthos clan is running short on heirs so perhaps it is for the best.” 

“The Counselor may be heavily guarded now but we still have a way in.” 

“We always do.” 

He places both hands on the chair and leans down close to her face. She smiles at him in the mirror. 

“Can I leave you here without worrying about you misbehaving?”  

“Perhaps. If there really is a traitor amongst Gemma’s little band of Jedi misfits then I can quite comfortably keep tabs on her, Riley, and Dane from beyond the illusory grave. However, there is still the issue of the legacy gene program and our sidelined attempts at finding whatever it was Schrag was up to. That is not something we should leave unchecked for long.” 

He stands and offers an arm which she gratefully takes as they move toward the door and head down to join the others for dinner. 

“Agreed. We do not want whatever is in motion to continue.”

“So, what do you propose, darling? It is not like I can wander freely around the Citadel given that few know I survived the attack at Bolerathon Tower.” 

“There may be a solution to that.”

Darth Erinbol and the Inquisitor are waiting for them with the latter awkwardly holding a black box. 

“Darth D’Cera,” he says, voice lowered and muffled within his costume. “May I present a gift for you. The, er, ultimate fashion accessory.” 

“You fed him that line.”

“I did,” Barrett beams, proud of himself. 

“Smooth.” 

She takes the box and sets it on the table, “I think we should reserve use of the word ‘ultimate’ unless it is that Carteris necklace I saw.”

“Just open it.”

She pulls off the lid to find a petite helmet nestled on fine silk. The faceplate is a smooth, polished crimson ombre that fades into black, giving it a whole posh anonymous threat vibe. It would look ominous beneath a hood and she is already plotting outfits to coordinate. She is pleased with how striking it is, lifting it gently from the box. 

“This is so beautiful…”

“Wait for it.”

“…but will it mess up my hair?”

As if sensing the moment, Faux-Schrag draws near, “It is the perfect cover and befitting both your status and style. There are enhancements within for air filtration and vision acuity you should enjoy. I shall grant you the authority to act on my behalf and you shall be free to roam the Citadel or anywhere else you so desire with your identity concealed.” 

Dahlia smiles, “Thank you. All of you.”

After dinner, she helps pack Barrett up to depart for the Republic capital. She hoped it could wait until morning but understands, given the pressing nature of the situation. They are pushing the Republic to act on their worst impulses, likely triggering further dissent and, hopefully, a civil war that the Empire is ready and waiting to win. It will be a tremendous reversal, an image rehabbing the likes these worlds have never seen. Barrett has been the public face of the Empire, positioning himself as a more pragmatic leader, driven by principle, which Dahlia then made socially acceptable and sympathetic. The public ate it up as they are wont to do. Her “death” is only temporary and a return predicated on the need to stay hidden in fear of retaliation against her family as well as concern from Barrett that the Republic may have somehow been involved. The details and spin should make for quite the reveal, carefully woven into the lies Dane and company have already told to cover them. The thought of the celebrations alone makes her weak with anticipation. 

Barrett kisses her hard, “Watch yourself around your cousin. I do not trust him.”

“Neither of us knows him well enough to trust him, darling, but I will.” 

“I will be back as soon as I can.” 

“Say hi to Quentin for me,” she teases. 

He makes a face that turns into a devious smile, “I love you.”

“I love you too.” 

Once he has gone, Dahlia is left with her thoughts. She runs a hand over the helmet she set on the desk. It is practical as well as thoughtful although she never considered herself a mask person in the literal sense. They all wear masks, become different versions of themselves depending on the audience. She has had to wear many; a dutiful daughter, supportive sister, resilient hostage, empowered survivor, earnest student, passionate lover, secret Sith savior. She is better at wearing some over others but has become emboldened by the turning tide. 

Barrett’s words linger with her; suspicions around Seif, Erinbol, the Voss-Ra, and the true meaning behind the Crimson Covenant. Dahlia does not want to be a pawn in anyone’s game but feels compelled to continue playing if the alternative is forfeiting the possibility of building something great. She thinks about how many others must have suffered through this process, disconnected and unaware, as the prophecy tried desperately to ensnare them. If they had known what she does, could they have gotten the upper hand, wrestled away control, and forged their own paths? Did Darth Immortus speak to others the way he spoke to her? She supposes not if she alone carries the full power of the prophecy, an amalgamation of those that came before. 

The True Winton, whatever the hell that means. 

As confusing and intoxicating as the whole saga is, she still feels odd. Drained. Dahlia discreetly summons a medical droid that enters the chamber and approaches her. 

“What services may I provide this evening?”

“A simple diagnostic will do.”

“Please list any symptoms you are currently experiencing.” 

“Tired, mostly. I had a bit of a dizzy spell earlier today.” 

“Please place your finger on the sterilized pad.”

The prick is only minimally annoying and so she crosses her arms to wait for the droid to tell her she is fine. It is all in her head. A byproduct of the slave-driving Erinbol and his training. Nothing to worry about, right?  

“Analyzing now.”

“Well?”

“Results found. There is slight iron deficiency which may be causing the fatigue…”

“Oh, that is a relief.”

“…but you are also pregnant.”








-TBC

[Syren]

“I can’t carry all your data
I’ve downloaded your sins
It’s not fair, it wasn’t my idea to let you in
I don’t understand your problems
Or where the glitch begins
It’s not fair, it wasn’t my idea to let you in.”

-KLOUD

Byss: Imperial Capital 

Surface: Imperial Citadel 

The statement hangs there almost like a threat. 

“How…pregnant?”

“Based on the present hormone levels, approximately two weeks.”

Huh. She had not even realized she missed a period yet which is probably why the prospect never crossed her mind. What the hell did she expect with all the reckless banging and such? Dahlia had always bordered more on the cautious side when it came to sex. It is not like she did not have the thoughts and feelings prior to meeting Barrett but the drama it seemed to cause with her friends made it less appealing. Being desired is one thing but the turbulent emotions that come with the physical act gave her pause. Her siblings did not appear to rush into it either and each had their own designs on a specific romantic interest. Dahlia did not have that outside a passing interest in Kier and, later, tension with Quentin. 

Despite the resentment toward Lord Gellar and Lady Masterton, they had actually been quite sex-positive. More so Celeste, obviously, given her profession in mental health. She had candid talks with all of them which she felt gave them the advantage of being well-informed and emotionally prepared. As a result, their approach to sex was slightly more clinical than intended. Dane pursued Alka with the zeal of a typical teenage boy but respected her enough to never cross a line. Consent, Celeste warned them, was an essential piece of the experience. Gemma dreamed about Riley even before she knew who he really was and so their star-crossed pairing was grounded in a genuine but ultimately doomed romance. The fact that all Four families were derived from one certainly gives their relationship a boost in the creep-factor department. Dahlia wanted sex to mean something, thinking she might like it a bit more if she fancied the person she slept with. That was not going to happen with a Valor Prep boy so she bided her time. The brutally hot Barrett came along and, despite his rigidness elsewhere, proved her theory correct. She loves being intimate with him. Okay, so maybe the thought of her and Quentin had crossed her mind too. Where Barrett is principled and dutiful, Quentin is brazen and devious. There is something inherently sexy about being bad but she made her choice and she is team-Barrett. 

Pregnant. Fuck. She curses herself for being so irresponsible. Neither of them had even gone near the subject of children, not with this much going on. Besides, they are in the midst of a secret Imperial coup that would destroy the Republic and grant them both power to reshape the galaxy in their images. 

The way it was apparently intended. 

“Wait,” she says, glaring at the droid. “Where does this information go?”

“It remains in my internal storage before it is uploaded to the medical records system at the end of the day.”

She calls the saber to her hand, igniting it and slashing the droid to pieces. 

“Fantastic. You have been so very helpful.” 

With Barrett racing toward Chandaar, she takes a few days to consider things. He would be swamped with a myriad of issues in the Senate. She is not going to get less pregnant so she may as well reason out the options here. To be honest, she never really thought about being a parent. It was, perhaps, a distant and immaterial prospect often shattered by her selfishness before it ever became anything more. Having a child just seems so…inconvenient. Children, from what she understands, are sticky and annoying. Not exactly an image she sees herself enjoying. Then again, furthering their legacy could have its perks. The kid was bound to be gorgeous, genetically speaking, so that is something. 

But is it enough? 

She wanders the corridors of the Citadel in her mask, fitted armor, and matching cape as she mulls over what to do. Her feelings begin to give way to the reality of their situation and the prophecy looming over everything. Each of them plays a role but she does not believe it explicitly states which of The Four gets knocked up. It did use some creative language from what she can recall – baptized by the Force or some shit, the power to give back what others took away. There was something else, something even more jarring. 

Emperor takes Empress and together they will rule eternally so long as the child does not live

That has to be bullshit, she thinks. Another trick up her father’s sleeve. There would be no way the Voss-Ra could have known with such accuracy although it is only a one-in-four chance. Prophesies are more about the interpretation and not meant to be instruction manuals. There are thematic elements and situations one could manipulate. Alexander Winton sure did to surprising results. He had each character pegged and prone to suggestion, moving them across the board until all that remained were those that could make-or-break it. Ultimately, Karen lost the crown but gained her soul or something. Whatever. She is not going to make that mistake again and was nearly absolved of having to deal with it at all in Gemma’s supposed death. Barrett may have doused that victory celebration but at least she has always known Gemma is full of it. The pregnancy in the context of the prophecy skews everything. 

Could they still rule if she was the one having the child? 

Princess Dahlia capitalizes on this question throughout Erinbol’s ongoing training. After each session, they would spend time meditating. The dark energy of Byss made this an otherworldly experience but she manages to subtly engage him about different elements of the prophecy. Erinbol is an expert at deflection which is why she opts to probe him for his understanding and not the Voss-Ra’s motive or philosophy. Not that she is not dying to know but that is not going to get her to what she wants to know. When they broach the subject of the child, he does not mince words. 

“The child is the gambit. It leads to a choice – protect the child or sacrifice it. It is an offering the Sith demand in order to rise again.” 

Cool, cool. The child is the second part of the winning formula. It must die and the Winton must live in order to fulfill the prophecy. She has heard and seen how the media framed the last Four. They were either sinners, saviors, or sacrifices. That makes things pretty fucking clear. She has traded places with a frightened and likely fashionably styled Kimber. Many people died trying to protect the Patten child and his survival started a new cycle. This bitch finds herself in a rather cringey conundrum. So, what does Princess Dahlia want more – the future the child represents or the future meant for her rule? 







-TBC

[Syren]

“Now it’s spinning out, all I want is to control it
I try to keep it down, put it in my hands and hold it." 

-Molly Burch

Byss: Imperial Capital 

Surface: Imperial Citadel 

Princess Dahlia spends the next several days living what feels like three separate lives. 

In the first life, she lives in training with Darth Erinbol who seems consumed with preparing her for the fight to come. Zero context, just slay all day. His devotion to fulfilling the prophecy hedges a bit close to fanatical for her tastes but there is no denying the vast progression in strength and ability. Props to his slave-driving for giving her the greatest control over her powers. The second is lived trying to engage Inquisitor Involis, the familial twist she never saw coming. Even in their sparring, he seems curious but restrained. He is formidable with a saber but lacks her agility. No wonder with that hulking armor slick as it may be. Until the last day or so, the conversation had been less than productive but he is starting to come around. The difference in age does hinder their efforts to connect. She feels there is something more like he does not quite know what to do with the reality of her. That pesky cousin who gets to claim the throne and resurrect the Sith. Lucky him. The third is lived wandering the corridors in her mask and cape as the Emperor’s new Sith enforcer, Darth D’Cera, searching for Schrag’s legacy gene experiment while silently deliberating what to do about her pregnancy. Also, not something she saw coming. It is a lot to process but whatever passes the time. The baby thing casts an uncertain shadow over everything. She only spoke briefly with Barrett when he arrived at Chandaar but this is not the kind of chat you have over the com. If she even wants to have it at all. 

She has to laugh. One crisis at a time, bitch. 

For now, she would try to pry into the Inquisitor's past and make headway with the legacy gene threat. She and Seif frequently dine together, sometimes with Erinbol, but mostly without and so she aims that witty banter at his considerable emotional defenses. She catches sight of the piece of the Etheralis, shimmering deep emerald green, as he approaches. He notices and runs a gloved hand across the transparent casing, setting the mask down on the table. Hers also rests beside her, almost like its own dinner companion. He eases into a chair with beams of overhead light refracting off the artifact. 

“It would make a fantastic pendant. Something bold. A statement piece.” 

He does not bother to hide the incredulity on his face, “This is part of an ancient Sith artifact granting untold powers to those to wield it. It is not meant to be made into…jewelry.” 

“Says you,” she says with a scrunched sneer. “Are you always this uptight?”

“Are you always this shallow?”

“Yes, but mostly for show. People are so easily distracted by stupidity. They never see the threat when they are too busy not taking you seriously. I asked you first.” 

“Clever if not completely trite. I am focused on what must happen in order for us to succeed.”

“Perhaps a little too much. There is nothing that says we cannot have a little fun along the way. Otherwise, what is the point? You are the first biological family I have ever met.”

“The Four spawned from one so that is technically untrue.”

“You know what I mean. I never met my parents so this is kind of a big deal.” 

“I never met mine either.” 

“Well, look at us having shared childhood trauma. Did this impact the rest of your life or were able to shrug it off like a champ? I suppose this makes us stronger, more colorful contributors to the galaxy.”

He regards her curiously, unsure where this is headed but drawn to the comradery. 

“One could say there were repercussions. Did your mother at least know you were alive when you were separated? Mine did not, or so I was told. It seems we were both raised in realities fabricated by others.” 

“Ouch. Apparently, mine did but handed me off to Celeste Masterton to spite my father. I sure hope you gave the Voss-Ra hell for their role in your stunted childhood.”

“Who says it was stunted? I was well cared for on Empress Teta and performed my duties as expected. Their methods may be unorthodox but I have always had a purpose. Not many can say the same. You seem to have done alright for yourself.” 

“Sure, after I was kidnapped, tortured, and forced into a game I never agreed to play. What the hell were you doing all this time, chilling on the sidelines while Alexia slowly slashed her way through Karen’s friends and allies? Not exactly showing the team spirit, cous. If this is all some predestined performance trying to nail the landing, and you are supposed to be the ‘beast’ in this incarnation, then I am supposed to defeat you and consume your rage. So it is written. That is what you said.”

Seif cocks his head to the side, “It is and you did.” 

“Did I?” 

“On Hesperidium. Defeat does not necessarily mean death. This is a prophecy and prophecy is about tactful interpretation. It was your power that activated the Etheralis and teleported us to the surface of Coruscant. You bested me and could have struck a killing blow with your saber. As for my rage, you now fully understand your purpose and what is at stake here. For the Sith to rise, you must fulfill the prophecy. You must succeed where all other Winton’s failed.”

Although this may technically check these boxes in the prophecy, there is a chance he could be manipulating them. Is Barrett right? Dahlia is still deciding, unsure of where his loyalties actually lie. She leans into finding out. 

“No pressure or anything,” she sighs, helping herself to a second serving of greens. “This is not the time for withholding, especially if you do not want to wind up repeating this all over again with some other spoiled brat you can barely stand.”

Something resembling a smile creeps onto his face. 

“I do not know you, Princess Dahlia. Family or not. You are like…a construct. Much like your sisters. Real only in the context of the prophecy. Characters acting out their parts.”

“No one is acting, Seif. This is very real.” 

“Then might I suggest you behave accordingly?” 

She inhales sharply, glaring intensely across the table.

“I have done everything asked of me and more including the perpetuation of the lie that I died in the Bolerathon Tower. Former Speaker Apteen and current Speaker Leeds would not have gone down this dark path if it was not for me. Without my access and intervention, there would be no truce nor would the Empire be in a position to leverage the Republic’s disorganization and tyrannical leanings in our favor. So, you can save the sass, darling. I have done my part which brings me back to you.”

“What about me? I take it you have your theories. So please, indulge me. Tell me what you think you know.”

“You expect us to believe you do not want the throne for yourself? Barrett was correct when he said the “beast” of the prophecy covets what the daughter of darkness has. Alexia’s jealousy combined with her connection to the Force drove her mad and she exacted her revenge on all that sought to elevate Karen to the throne. I have not decided on whether or not you would do the same." 

Seif takes a few bites in silence, reflecting on her targeted verbal assault. He had often wondered what it would be like to engage his family in a meaningful way. Now he knows it is as dramatic and irritating as he imagined it would be. 

“You are missing one critical piece in that theory, your Highness. Alexia was intentionally misled and manipulated. This was your father’s doing, not the Voss-Ra. He - to put it in terms you will understand - went off-script entirely for self-interest. She had been made to believe that she was the one the prophecy spoke of. Those expectations were set, an amazing future in power built up in her mind. When those expectations turned out to be untrue, well, we all know what happened next.”

He gives the information a moment to land before continuing. 

“I had no such allusions of my role. In fact, I never knew if I would be called to play the part at all. I was content as an Inquisitor, hunting down the Jedi as they scattered to the furthest corners of the galaxy. It is what I was raised to be – a great hunter and warrior – but those plans changed when your sister failed. My path was diverted toward your own. So it is written, that much is true, but if you think you are on the only one who was forced into a game you did not wish to play, think again.”

There is a tinge of bitterness to his tone. 

Seif watched his cousin's power struggle for years. When Karen defeated Alexia, as was foretold, he thought he was off the hook. Secretly, he was relieved not to have to play the part of the Beast. Alexia’s instability made her much better suited for it. The fact that they could so easily substitute one antagonist for another enraged him but he never shared this with the Voss-Ra. Not after everything they taught him, gave him, he thinks as he touches the Etheralis' casing again. Their belief is much too deep to be swayed. Alexia was meant to be the foil to everything Karen stood for. She nearly took everything from her but the precious Four survived the tribulation that followed. That is, until their pinned hopes on Karen that their cherished abomination would emerge victorious collapsed with the implosion of Centerpoint Station. 

So began the new cycle and he was up. 

The new Four were initially problematic as the Voss-Ra elders saw their potential to restore order and bring peace. The Gellar-Masterton’s were trying to atone for the sins of the past. This guidance could undo what those that came before them had done. If that were to happen, the Winton may never triumph over the others and bring about the return of the Sith. Once they were targeted in the Corporate Sector and Corellia, he was called to work with the Empire after the Jedi’s expulsion from Chandaar. Biding his time brought them closer to his orbit as they grew. He engaged with Gemma first, believing she would eventually lead him back to Dahlia. Killing her, or any of the others would put the Winton one step closer but Masterton proved more resourceful than he anticipated. That was his mistake. Instead, he turned his attention to the Winton and aimed to test her powers the way Karen’s were tested at Contruum. Much like her sister, Dahlia did not disappoint. She had the potential and the power but no one was really sure which way she would go. Despite her fall to the dark side, she remains more honorable than the Voss-Ra prefers but the lure of destiny proved too powerful and she is exactly where she needs to be – poised to rise and bring about the return of the Sith. He just needs her to stay the course.  

Dahlia bristles, “I did not know that which is why I asked.”

“More like accused.”

“The scenic route is often more enlightening. It also gives you depth. Context is important here so I appreciate your perspective. Speaking of ventures of self-interest, are you aware the dearly departed Emperor had plans similar to those of my father?”

“I have a very specific function in this regime. Our professional relationship seldom included intimate details outside of how my missions aided in regaining galactic power.” 

“That is not a no,” she quips evenly, dropping a hand so that her fingers caress the saber clipped to a chunky black belt. “In the spirit of sharing, let us try that again. What do you know of Schrag’s plans to scientifically circumvent a successor?" 

He laughs, “Clearly not as much as you do. Like I said, I was merely a tool in his arsenal. If you are looking for answers, you will need a source closer than I ever was.” 

“I am open to suggestions.”

“Suggestion is exactly what piqued their interest in the first place. I am surprised Erinbol did not tell you.” 

“Yeah, well, he is not one for the hot gossip. If you want me to fulfill anything, you better step up. Or else.”

“I see we have moved from accusations to threats. Or else what?”

She leans forward and speaks lowly in a near hiss, “Or else this little prophecy will be unraveled by the same schemes as before. The “beast” is not the only one who may come to covet the prophecy outcome. One can see how even whispers of a Winton ascension may be…divisive. Schrag was never going to take chances with me in the mix. He planned for his demise much the same way my father did. They both wanted to reap the rewards of their efforts just in different ways. Absolute power or whatever. Is that what the Voss-Ra would really want? What you really want, a path that always leads to us? Schrag had a strategy alright and a part of that meant being the once and future Emperor. Like, forever.” 

As much as he hates to admit it, she makes a compelling point. Her curated skills are now enough to even back up the threat with force. Eliminating unknown variables would be crucial to the prophecy. After all the faith and work the Voss-Ra have dedicated to its execution, the countless lives lost to it, this cycle must be the last. That is what he swore to them when they called on him. Snobbish as she may be, they must work together. 

“Then you seek the agents of experimentation. If anyone would know, it is them.”  

There is a fiery glint in Dahlia’s eyes.

“Tell me.”







-TBC

[Syren]

“Now we’re too far gone
But maybe you knew all along.”

-Moses Boyd & Katy B

Byss: Imperial Capital
 
They make quite the duo storming through the Citadel.
 
Inquisitor Involis is concealed in hulking armor surrounded by the emerald aura of the Etheralis fragment while the petite Sith Enforcer, Darth D’Cera, struts her shit from behind the blank mask, flowing cape, and black, knee-high heeled boots. Being an agent of evil does not have to mean being sloppy. Sentient beings and droids alike practically throw themselves out of their way in terror. Seif only knew of their targets by reputation so there was not much to tell but that did not prevent them from setting out to find them with haste. It is a mission to make sure all this effort does not go to waste, derailed by yet another powerful man using things foretold in his undeserved favor. They have both the Emperor’s authorization and intimidation on their side which is why no one hesitates to give them the answers they need.

Deep within the bowels of the Citadel, the petrifying pair burst into a lab filled with active monitors, crudely written hypotheses, and what they can assume are equally illegible conclusions on large, rectangular boards. There are two inhabitants who rise from their work to acknowledge them but strangely do not appear in the least surprised. Their expressions are so stoic that it fosters a sense of anticlimax and disappointment. Dahlia sighs.

“We, like, stormed your secret lab and that’s it? That’s all we get?”

“Well yes,” the one closest to them says. “We have been expecting you, Darth D’Cera.”

The other nods, “Surprised it took you this long if we are being completely honest. I am Max and this is Xam but you already know that. Otherwise, you would not be here.”

Neither she nor Seif knows where their loyalty truly lies but, if Dahlia had to guess, they served Schrag faithfully from the confines of this dank place. It is unlikely they would give up his secrets easily, especially if it involves plotting survival beyond his potential death. They both look batshit crazy so chances are they do not get out much. With the Inquisitor looming silently behind her, she decides to keep them on the defensive.

“Is that so?” she counters, voice tinged with a rigid menace through the mask. “Then, by all means, tell us since you seem intent to presume motive for our presence.”

Xam throws Max a look that suggests they played the wrong hand, shifting toward a more suitable answer.

“My apologies. The Emperor no doubt sent you to verify our findings.”

She moves deeper into the lab, running her gloved finger along a narrow table filled with gadgets and models, “Among other things."

Max nods nervously and turns to a set of monitors with vitals streaming across the screens. As she nears, Dahlia reads the name in the top left corner of one screen: Cavanaugh. Well, shit. Yet another thing she was not expecting, facing down another misdeed. Quinn, Muriel; Dahlia has not exactly been the greatest friend. She hates herself for thinking it but Adubell may not have been entirely wrong about her.

“Of course. We now have two high-profile assets in the Republic capital.”

Two?

The second monitor also holds the same name. Kinsa. Wonder how they pulled that off. Did Quentin do the deed or did they make a mind-controlled Quinn turn on her own sister? Yikes. This is a path she set them on when she accepted the serum from Ambassador Pallus in exchange for a sample of Dane’s genetic material, a sample Schrag went on to use against them. But Seif does not know that. Or does he? Barrett’s words flutter through her head. Despite his assurances and stake in seeing this through, his own motivations may be more complex than he would ever admit.

“He will be pleased to hear it. Any further details his Highness should be aware of?”

“Oh, yes,” Xam says flatly, turning to a spinning hologram of a human brain. “The stability is remarkable with some impressive results. You see, the nanotechnology within the ICS allows us to imprint the assets with whatever we please. Whether it be a missionary or murderer, we make them what they need to be. They now have a default threat response, one of a survivalist and efficient killer, as we discovered the adaptive nature of the technology. Gellar's product was actually learning how to keep them safe, activating those same responses without our intervention. They still possess their own personalities, which are dominant when not engaged, but the missions leave them with holes in their memories. Blank spots where they have actual deniability for their actions. There are cognitive and emotional risks with this approach but otherwise, they are the perfect plants, beautiful and well-connected. Exactly as the Emperor had intended. It is only a shame the Winton royal did not survive long enough to see these results.”

A quiet horror builds within her, “And why is that?”

A dark glee pulls at the corner of Max’s mouth, “She was to be the final product, of course. The goal of the entire program – the most dangerous member of The Four entirely under Imperial control.”

Dahlia is almost flattered but she can feel the weight of Seif’s gaze behind all that armor waiting for her to react. If she had been dosed with a perfected Imperial Control Serum, Schrag would have not only had her but, by extension, Barrett under his thumb. He was planning on using her as both a weapon and leverage. What. An. Asshole. She could cut them both down with her saber. Scatter their appendages across this lab, rendering them a permanent part of the scientific clutter. Make them pay for crimes Barrett already punished Schrag for, intentionally or not. Maybe it’s the effects of being on Byss but the thought of bloodshed excites her. She has a few issues she needs to work out. Instead, she reaches for mindfulness that does not often suit her, knowing that without Max and Xam both Kinsa and Quinn may not be of any use to them. She could not jeopardize Barrett that way, not while he was navigating the delicate politics of the truce.

“A shame indeed. I am certain we will make the most of it.”

“To wonderous effect. The Republic is crumbling before our very eyes.”

She considers this when the Inquisitor stirs.

“What of the contingency? Surely he does not need it with the princess dead.”

“The contingency…” Xam says, trailing off. “We do not know what you speak of, Inquisitor Involis. Forgive us." 

“Of course,” he says, turning to her. “Shall we?”

“Absolutely. Thank you both. Be assured you have the Emperor’s deepest gratitude for your progress here. I will ensure you are both commended for it. Now, let us bring the Republic to its knees.”

There is a flicker of emotion across their faces a she turns and strides out of the lab with the Inquisitor following closely behind. They walk together in silence, winding their way back through the gothic corridors. Once they are within their exclusive corner of the Citadel, he speaks again.

"I trust you got it."

“Lifted it from their minds the moment you engaged them.”

“And?”

She pulls the mask off her head, crimson hair spilling down across a sinister smile.

“We find our answers on Prakith.” 








-TBC

[Syren]

“Don’t say a word while we dance with the devil
You brought a fire to a world so cold
We’re out of time on a highway to never
Hold on (hold on), hold on (hold on)."
 
-Duke Dumont
 
Prakith

After a twisting bent through the Byss run, Imperial Inquisitor Involis and Darth D’Cera flare out of hyperspace above the volcanic fortress world. Its pulsing glow seems to beckon them deeper into their dangerous plan. If Schrag’s minions unlock the powerful secrets of the legacy gene this whole thing could go up in flames. They need to make damn sure that does not happen. Dahlia returns to the cockpit of Seif’s imposing Delta-class shuttle with her hair neatly pulled back and dark, freshly glossed lips. His incredulity is never subtle. Not when it comes to her.

“Did you…get ready?”

She admires her reflection in the blank surface of her mask, “Let us not pretend this shocks you.”

He groans, turning back to the controls.

“I suppose not. Practicality is not exactly your focus.”

“Says the hulking mass of armor. How does it look down there anyway?”

“Cavernous,” he says flatly.

“I figured. So, the Asonel Caves – you know where they are, right?”

“I do but that is not where we are headed.”

“Oh? Pretty sure that’s the intel I lifted from those deranged scientists but if you know a quaint bistro owned by a fine purveyor of artisanal fare fire-roasted in a local volcano then, by all means, let’s hit it up.”

Ignoring the tedious barrage of sarcasm, he smiles thinly, “Have you heard of the Citadel Inquisitorius?”

“Until relatively recently, no one told me shit. So, no. Besides, the Corporate Sector is a long way from the Deep Core and its many secrets.”

“True but those far closer may only believe it exists due to its reputation. It is where they sent me when I came of age. Where I trained under other Inquisitors. Where I interrogated my first Jedi. While we may have served each Emperor faithfully, in our own ways, the Voss-Ra’s mission was never far from my mind. Restoring the Sith to power kept me going. It is my purpose so forgive me if I take this more seriously than you seem to be. The Asonel Caves are vast and treacherous. We will make a stop at the Citadel to see if we can learn more before charging into the unknown. Can you, how do you say, deal with it?”

Hilarious, she thinks, but his motives are always going to be slightly suspect. The freewheeling insanity of her family saga had given her a complex about it. Their goals may be aligned for the moment but she would be foolish to think that would always be so. Dahlia absently runs a gloved hand across her stomach as she stares out across the weaving, jagged canyons below. With the outcome falling to her, there is a lot more at stake so she tries to strike a balance with a neutral tone.

“Unlikely but I will give it a go. This is like a homecoming of sorts for you then?”

“In a way.”

She slides into the chair beside him. The piece of the Etheralis in his armor grows brighter with her presence, drawing her eyes to it.

“That would have been helpful to know sooner but I will defer to your topographical expertise. By the way, which one did you like more? I am dying to know.”

“Which what?”

“Emperor! You served at least two in your lifetime.”

“Loyalty does not always mean like. At least in the way you mean. Dementat’s goals aligned more closely with the Voss-Ra. Not that he was aware of such things. He had a brash and brooding charm, something people like your sisters found irresistible. Barrett has many of those same qualities which is why he serves the same function in the prophecy. Schrag was a Grand Admiral under Dementat first before taking the throne and he was on the command ship when the young Emperor departed to follow his lover to the grave. He believed him foolish in this way which explains his protective nature around Barrett and…apprehension toward you.”

Appalled at the generalization, she sneers, “He planned on pumping me full of my adoptive father’s mind-control serum and using me to blackmail my boyfriend into submission for the sake of Imperial conquest. Pressed for time, he ordered Barrett to kill me as some kind of sick test. That is not apprehension, that is an obsession and, well yeah, obviously but still. Not cool.”

“It no longer matters. He is gone. They both are. Dementat at least had imagination, saw the potential in the rising of the Sith, but he failed to realize the part he had to play in time. They were so close and still fell so short.”

“A heads up probably would have helped. Operating in the dark is not as easy as you all make it sound.”

“He would not have believed it. None of the principal players would have. It is only because elements of the prophecy leaked in that Corellian reporters’ story after the last cycle that any of you are even aware of it. You would have been operating in the same space all your predecessors were – with just enough information and intrigue to nudge events forward. The Voss-Ra believe in only minor intervention when necessary.”

“Minor interference is still interference. Is it really a win if you rig the outcome from the start?”

“Patience is a finite resource, Princess Dahlia, and I am approaching the edges of mine.”

“Fine, I get it. Thank you for the frightening context. Now, take me to your creepy little Inquizzy clubhouse or whatever.”

The Citadel Inquisitorius comes into view. Hard to miss it, actually, as it is even more imposing than the Emperor’s Citadel on Byss. Intentionally so. Whoever designed the tower clearly had a field day with their dark vision. Involis lands the shuttle at the end of a long, obsidian platform, wings folded up neatly above them in an ominous prayer. He glances over at her as she slides on the mask.

“What?”

“I wonder what they will make of you.”

“Guess we will see.”

The walkway is diminished by the tower as they both approach in a way she imagines slightly cinematic, all slow-motion hip sways and imposing swagger. He takes the lead, it is his turf after all, but she stays close. Something about this place gives her the major creeps. His freedom hinges on her survival so she has no doubt he will protect her here. At least for now. Inside, they are approached by two others dressed in nuanced shades of gray. Fitting, she notes. They exchange greetings with Involis. The first introduces himself as Inquisitor Allom and the other, Inquisitor Feraas. Involis introduces her but they seem to take offense to her presence, registering as a nauseating ripple through the Force. They feel threatened, insulted he would bring a lesser being before them.

And she is not here for it.

Princess Dahlia strikes first, violently Force pushing them away while calling both of their sabers to her hands. She ignites and crosses them slowly in front of one another for dramatic effect. They did not anticipate her attack and neither did Involis but the jarring nature of the action gives her a more compelling edge. Her voice, while still feminine, is lower, almost throaty, with a tinge of digitized crackle beneath the mask as she executes the threat with crisp annunciation.

“You dare speak to me in such a way? I am not here to play your mind games Inquisitors but, if you insist, I will remove them from your skulls and show you exactly how much fun they can be.”

They rise, incensed but unharmed.

“As I was saying,” Involis continues. “May I present D’Cera.”

“We have heard this name,” Allom says, dusting off his robe.

Faraas nods, “An adept fighter if the Sith advisors in the capital are to be believed.”

“She is one of the Emperor’s most trusted enforcers,” Involis explains, crafting the narrative they agreed on. “We were sent to assess progress on an Imperial project and require Citadel resources to begin our investigation. D’Cera has the full authority of the Emperor behind her.”

This resonates and they acquiesce but approach her cautiously. Their fear of Schrag must outweigh their reservations which work in their favor. She deactivates and returns their weapons and Allom leans forward as he accepts his.

"Anything you need will be at your disposal.”

“Excellent. What of the hunt for the Jedi? Is that not what you do?”

“It is, Darth D’Cera. Most who managed to survive have been driven into Wild Space. Few remain across the mid and outer rim, a handful on Lur that were dealt with, which just leaves Corellia.”

“Corellia?” Dahlia’s interest is definitely piqued.

“An alleged safe haven for the Jedi with a noticeable uptick in incoming traffic over the past month. We have been monitoring all channels across the Republic with well-placed sources confirming Senate leadership has pinned these defiant conspiracies on the Corellian Senator in conjunction with sector agencies. It is well within Republic borders but not yet reinforced by the Imperial navy. If the Ambassador to the Republic can negotiate our assistance, then we would have a way in to ascertain these allegations for ourselves and deal with them…accordingly. Either way, the end of the Jedi is nigh.”

“The Inquisitorius is always happy to oblige.”

They arrive at the repository and Faraas turns.

“Once we have learned all we can, of course. Access to the remains of the Centerpoint Station could prove to be most enlightening. We will leave you to it.”

Dahlia considers their words, watching them drift into the distance of the imposing architecture. Dementat died at Centerpoint as did a version of her father and three of the last Four. If Imperial capital ships provide cover for the Inquisitors to slip inside Corellia’s borders, Gemma and her little band of boneheads are not long for these worlds. This may actually work out after all. Her stomach grumbles in protest. Well, that part at least. They still have quite a way to go before anyone is awkwardly doing a victory jive. They enter the repository and Involis gets right to work. He is comfortable with the tools, using Citadel tech to pull up a hologram of the Asonel Caves region.

“What are you looking for specifically?”

“Energy signatures. An operation on that scale would require a lot of power which must be separated from the myriad of signatures from naturally occurring geothermal activity in the cave system.”

He identifies three possibilities and begins to eliminate each of them through activity in the area over the course of the past year. If Schrag was getting nervous about Dahlia, he would likely have increased his efforts to counter any moves she might make through Barrett.

“There,” he says, pulling the image closer to narrow in on a patch of caves lit in yellow.

She does not know what she is looking at but, left with few other options, she is going to have to trust him. Due to the unstable terrain, they would take one of the Inquisitor’s air speeders. It is a sleek transport that Involis guides expertly through the uneven canyons. She is pretty sure they are going to die but somehow, he prevents them from clipping the various serrated outcroppings along the way. He parks the air speeder in front of a misshapen opening, reviewing a miniaturized version of the map on a small holoprojector. She climbs out, kicking away a few stray rocks with her chunky heeled boot.

“Rather unassuming, no?”

“What did you expect? A sign welcoming us to the genetic freakshow?”

D’Cera shrugs, “Schrag never had that kind of style.”

“No, he was a man of considerable substance.”

“Past tense. Remember that. My patience has limits too.”

“Right. Shall we?”

They approach the mouth of the cave with sabers in hand. Behind them, the skyline of Prak City appears like the open jaws of a predator from the nearby plateau. The symbolism is not lost on either of them. He explained on the ride over that the caves were old lava tubes but, after the mining boom stripped them of their gemstones, it was left a hazardous nightmare. The perfect place for a secret lab as visitors seldom ventured in. Holding the small holoprojector in his armored palm, Involis leads the way. They traverse the winding path for nearly ten minutes before sloping down and into a larger cavern. She senses it the same time he does, igniting their sabers to deflect the first wave of blasts while falling back to defensive positions behind the tapered stalagmites. It is difficult to see but, using the advanced technology within her mask, she identifies the source; two Royal Guards, likely selected and assigned by Schrag himself. They do not wait for the intruders to respond and advance toward them firing with lethal efficiency.

As their cover disintegrates beneath the onslaught, they are forced to separate and disappear into the darkness of the caves.









-TBD

[Syren]

“A sort of stoned silence
Sat on that boat floating out
The waters left me open
All my emotions fog my lenses
Trusting in a stranger
There’s nowhere to run, enjoy it
It’s all about the here and now
Illuminate the darkness.”

-Morcheeba
 
Prakith

Surface: Asonel Caves

The attack is swift and brutal, forcing Dahlia into a defensive escape plan she had yet to erect let alone execute.
 
Even pausing for a microsecond brings another volley of blaster fire. The Royal Guards have a significant home-field advantage. The uneven surface beneath her is challenging to navigate in the heeled boots but she is not about to admit Seif was right about that. She taps off her saber and the firing ceases momentarily. No need to give them a blazing visual cue of her location. Dahlia would be dead for sure without the enhancements from her gifted mask, assessing and optimizing the terrain and best path forward right before her eyes. No doubt the Royal Guards have been outfitted with something similar so she does not waste time celebrating. Keeping low, she darts between the bulbous and asymmetrical stalagmites while keeping watch for the advancing enemy.
 
Pausing behind one of the larger organic pillars, she clasps her fingers around the hilt of the saber and draws on the Force to feel out her surroundings. There is a vibrancy to the cave but she works to peel back the noise until it lands. There. The Royal Guard stalking toward her position, weapon trained and ready. He draws nearer still until he is just behind her. Igniting the saber as she steps out and turns, Dahlia slashes through the stalagmite and the Guard’s weapon. He reacts quickly, tossing it aside and kicking a chunk of the crumbling pillar to knock her back against the cave wall. Her saber hits the ground and winks out. The advance is ruthless and it is very clear their orders were to slay anyone who dare visited here. Their hand-to-hand is fairly evenly matched, thanks to her training, but he knows these caves better than she ever will. He catches what would have been a solid blow to the head, twisting her arm around, and uses the momentum to wrap her fully around the column before sending her tumbling back across the ground.
 
Dazed with pain searing through her chest and abdomen, she rolls away just as he slams a heavy boot next to where her head had just been. Adrenaline pulsing through her, Dahlia pulls her shit together and springs upward to engage him directly. She twists tightly around a punch from him, smashing an elbow into his own mask which snaps his head back before spinning behind him to land a crushing kick behind his left knee. His muffled cry only emboldens her and she calls the saber to her hand and ignites it, time slowing before them. There is a flicker of the saber reflected in that mask and she knows, just behind it, he understands what is coming. And she delivers, bisecting him with exquisite precision. The charge is indescribably thrilling. A dangerous delicious.
 
The Inquisitor emerges from the darkness beyond with a mild limp but no worse for wear. She is still riding the exhilaration of the fight but finds herself pleasantly surprised.
 
“Oh good, you are not dead.”

"You sound disappointed.”

“Maybe a little.”

“Touching. After you.”

“Well,” she says, setting off as the body aches and battle damage begins to set in. “We sure as hell did not come all this way for nothing.”

Their sabers light the way and predictably come to a set of locked double doors. They make quick work of it, using the combined powers of their weapons to weaken it and the Force to pull them apart to step between them. Inside, a scientific horror show awaits – the former and present Emperor Schrag’s attempt at unlocking the secrets of the legacy gene Dahlia secured for him from the source – Dane Gellar. No expense was spared, apparently, as the cloning chambers and corresponding equipment are all high quality and in pristine condition. This was a priority. There are two short rows containing a series of Schrag clones floating peacefully in stasis with the closest one dark, body decaying within.
 
“That’s...strange.”

“You don’t say.”

“Schrag likely had a trigger, something to awaken the next body. The one apparently keyed up to replace him failed but others did not follow the succession."
 
"Lucky break?”

“Not quite,” he says, motioning to the severed wires and tubes that were once connected to the tank. “This was deliberate.”

“Ominous and unexpected but I say we take the win.”

“The saboteurs may still be nearby.”

Wonderful, she thinks, glancing around. He continues weaving between the tanks, searching for any other signs of foul play that may put them in danger. If someone had beat them to it, they may have laid a trap. She grimaces beneath the mask, stomach-churning in the aftermath of the altercation. She may not be as untouchable as she fancies herself but it is beside the point and so she checks out the rest of the lab with him but finds nothing that would indicate imminent danger. No secret collaborators waiting in the wings.

“The area may be clear but it does not explain how this happened.”

“One of the Voss-Ra could have easily transformed into Schrag and paid them a visit. For appearance's sake to pull the literal plug. You know how they roll. They must have known the clones would come into play soon.”

“But they could not know what choice Barrett would make. Or which clone was slated to come online first.”

“They are shape-shifting sorcerers! Surely, they could have conjured up some kind of precognition or inkling of the future in those dark magics. How do you think they managed to nudge everything along all this time? It was not their aesthetic; I’ll tell you that. They have power and connections honed over Maker knows how long.”

The helmet turns his sigh into a monstrous tune, “That is one theory. You know, just because they pulled off the cloning process does not mean they perfected working with the legacy gene. The way I was told, Gellar’s genetics gave life where none previously existed, creating an immortal sentient being that threatened the very foundation of the prophecy. Built by a Gellar, destroyed by a Gellar."

She motions beyond the tanks to several exoskeletons in various states of assembly strewn across a work table, evidence of mechanical intervention.
 
“Convenient. Think they were looking to pull off a similar feat?”

“Only one way to find out.”

He shatters one of the tanks and the nude body spills out onto the floor lying motionless at their feet. He ignites his saber and cuts into it, finding only flesh, blood, and bone. No technological terror waiting underneath.
 
“Looks like Erinbol was right. Schrag was no scientist and even those he had working on this had yet to find a way to replicate whatever process completely and free him of a mortal coil.”

“A silver lining but still suspect. There would be no way to know how long he had even with the Voss-Ra’s mystical insight.”
 
“You do not know that,” Dahlia counters with an arched brow. “Maybe they only told you what they needed you to know. We both know what kind of a man Schrag was. He planned on having me under the thrall of the Imperial Control Serum which would then be used as leverage to keep Barrett in line and executing his agenda in the Republic. That alone would have bought him quite a bit of time as you worked your way through what was left of the Jedi. Once the Republic finally collapsed and all external threats had been neutralized, he could have kicked back and waited it all out while his eternal replacement was perfected. He would have found a way eventually.”

“But Barrett wised up and chose you over him. Also pretty convenient.”
 
“With help from the Sith, of course. They are, after all, what this really comes down to. The Winton’s ascension heralds the return of the Sith. So it is written and all that. I am happy to do it, of course, because it means great things for both of us.”
 
“Us?”

“Come now, cousin. Do you think I would leave you out of the spoils of this long-suffering victory if you help us achieve it? The Voss-Ra took you from your mother and raised you to be a part of their grand plan. You did not have a choice in this and neither did I. Will it not be a relief once that role has been retired? You do not have to play their part forever. Threats will still exist when the Empire swoops in with the great galactic solution and we will need someone to lead that charge. Someone we trust.”

He considers this, uncertain if her statement is a glimpse behind the façade or part of her dark sarcasm. The appeal to position and power, sowing doubt about the Voss-Ra, shows she is not nearly as stupid as she presents. She told him as much but he had not seen it until now. It is tucked ever so neatly beneath the staged superficial veneer.
 
“How can you be so sure you can trust me? Barrett seems to believe I mean to take this from you both.”

“Trust is something that is built and we have to start somewhere.”

“That might be the most sensible thing I have ever heard you say.”

“So sweet. Now, we have to get rid of it. Of everything.”

“I say we bury this place and get the hell out of here.”

“So here for that.”

They retrieve charges from the shuttle and tactfully place them through the lab and surrounding tunnels that would ensure the place and everything in it would be entombed forever. They stand at the mouth of the cave and detonate, enjoying the growing concussive sounds of each charge destroying Schrag’s failed contingency. Son of a bitch deserves it after the things he had planned. Nice try, loser but they have a bit more perspective than the last bunch. And they would use it to their fullest advantage. With the Voss-Ra disciple as the Emperor's public placeholder, the Imperial throne now lies directly in her and Barrett’s sights.
 
Victory within reach but there is always a price.
 
Her stomach convulses to the point where she has to hunch forward, stifling a scream. This is more than a mere battle injury. She brings a hand down to feel the wetness between her legs, leaving traces of red on her glove. Never a good sign. He takes notice as she wipes it away quickly. Not quick enough it seems.
 
“You are bleeding. Are you injured?”

“Let’s just go.”

“D’Cera-”

“I said let’s go.”

In the shuttle, she pulls off her mask and cleans herself up in the small lavatory as he sets course for Byss. He raps on the door which, with his armored fist, sounds like an arriving thunderstorm.
 
“Are you okay?”

“Fine.”

“I do not believe you.”

“Never asked you to.”

“Open the door, Dahlia.”

“Go to hell, Seif!”

“I am not leaving until you do.”

"Better get comfortable."
 
The passing is unpleasant but mercifully short. She finishes cleaning up, staring down into the toilet at the remains of what she imagines was once she and Barrett’s child. It is so tiny - a cluster of stringy tissue - almost insignificant but more emotionally impactful than she allowed herself to believe. Mother fuck. The bloody discharge clouds the water, swirling into a pink abstraction. Dahlia flushes it away, thoroughly rinsing her trembling hands. She charged into that battle without thinking about this particular potential consequence. That in and of itself should have been a sign she was not ready. It was still so early and she was not even sure what she wanted to do about it. Now it has been decided, regardless of her or Barrett’s wishes. Poor B, come and gone without even knowing. Nothing for him to grieve. He never had a family so he does not know what he is losing. Nothing to compare it to. Still, it would be better if he were here. She tucks a large strand of crimson hair behind an ear as she straightens and inhales. The overhead lighting casts her in severe tones but she exhales and tries to carry on.
 
He is waiting for her on the other side, leaning against the wall with his helmet under one arm.
 
“You are not fine.”

“No,” she says, unable to conceal the strain in her voice or the sting of tears in those emerald eyes as they search for something, anything, other than his face. “No, I am not.”

The placement of her hands, one gripping the mask and the other curled protectively around her belly, tips the hand. She becomes, at that moment, more than a construct or vessel of the prophecy. Someone he can relate to and empathize with because they are family. Something he gave up on ever having a long, long time ago. It is a fatal mistake many others have made before him, letting their guard down enough to come to care about one of The Four. But this does not stop him from reaching out to touch her shoulder, a gesture of support amidst the emotional gravity of the moment. There are no words and she crumbles forward against his battle-scuffed armor, the glow of the Etheralis nestled within it illuminating her delicate features and breaks down.







 


-TBC

[Syren]

“River
Wash your blood over me
River
Why won’t you wash me clean?
Won’t you wash me clean?”

- PNAU & Ladyhawke
 
Byss: Imperial Capital
 
Princess Dahlia bleeds lightly most of the way back.
 
She is distant and withdrawn, resting on the small bunk with a thin sheet curled around her. Seif checks in occasionally but otherwise leaves her alone. He does not really know what to say. Nothing he considers feels worthy of the loss. He instead spends the journey reflecting on their exchanges as they got to know one another, culminating in the assault on the Asonel Caves. They have come a long way in a short time. A surprise to be sure but Dahlia’s casual quips revealed a breadth of questions he never allowed himself to ask. His path had been so certain yet the similarities between their stories, forged many years apart, have resonated in unexpected ways.

Are family ties really those that bind? He never had a chance to contemplate the answer until now.
 
They were separated from their mothers and raised by others who created facades around them which now manifests in doubt he never felt before. It is a foreign and uncomfortable state of being and he relies on his years of training to keep those feelings in check. When they land at the Citadel, he becomes Inquisitor Involis once more and helps Darth D’Cera do the same. He guides her back through the winding gothic corridors to the safety of their secluded area where she can just be herself and he something he was never meant to be.

A caretaker.

Seif is a bringer of death and she was quickly working her way onto his list. Once they all got what they wanted, of course. It is not like he does not see it – how easy it would be to betray them; help her take down the remaining three, stage a way for Barrett to be lost in battle, then strike her down after she ascended and the Sith rose. They are not wrong to be wary of him yet Dahlia continues to engage him as a whole person, something more than he was told he could ever be – catalyst, harbinger, symbol. He places her mask on the nightstand and helps her to bed, the piece of the Etheralis growing brighter with their closeness. She smiles thinly, running a finger across the case in the center of his armor, and turns over.

“Thanks, S.”

He steps back quickly, unsettled and uncomfortable, and turns toward the door. The princess is strong and would recover which allows him time to evaluate the larger canvas they find themselves painted on. The Voss-Ra entrusted Seif with a piece of the Etheralis, one of four carved from the artifact before being placed at the center of what is now the newly reformed Coruscant. Her connection to the Force and its power allowed them to create the dark sphere which transported them out of the destruction of the Bolerathon Tower and onto the surface where they laid their trap for the now-slain Emperor Schrag. He knew the potential applications of the Etheralis fragment if exposed to one of The Four, but the results, in reality, were both thrilling and terrifying. It is no wonder these pieces were separated and safeguarded but he had not thought to question where or with whom.

He has one but who has the others?

His faith in the Voss-Ra had been that strong, now shaken by a woman with more red flags than an Imperial propaganda parade. The Sith toy with her and the others. Are they toying with him as well?

Darth Erinbol lurks in the dimly lit corridor as he exits her chamber.

“You both returned safely, I presume.”

“D’Cera was injured but will heal. As will I.”

“The prestige of the Prophecy Persephonea is always paid in blood. What of your mission?”

“It was a success,” Seif says, noting the tragic tinge of specificity to his comment. “Schrag’s machinations threaten the prophecy no longer. We are clear to continue as planned.”

A flicker of what could be construed as pleasure crosses Erinbol’s scarred face, “Excellent. Walk with me.”

He trails the Sith back to the throne room where the Voss-Ra disciple, disguised as Schrag, sits unnervingly still upon the throne. Erinbol bows, as does the Inquisitor, and they continue on to the Sith’s inner sanctum. Appearances, appearances. He approaches a dwindling fire in the center of the room, waving a hand to bring it roaring back. The shadows retreat around them. Seif’s patience begins to deteriorate but he keeps an even tone behind the imposing mask.

“Is there something more you wish to know?”

“Yes, but then again, so do you it seems. I sensed this when you first arrived, a conflict I have felt from many others here but never from you. Tell me, what happened?”

“We found the labs within the caves, courtesy of our resources at the Inquisitorius, but they were guarded by some of Schrag’s most formidable agents. We fought, we conquered, and we destroyed.”

Erinbol stares into the flames, “What did you find there?”

“A series of fully grown genetic clones with evidence of further experimentation,” he says carefully. “None of which appeared to be successful.”

“Is that all?”

“No. We were not the first to discover it but you already know this.”

Finally, he turns to face him, “Do I?”

“You may not have been forthcoming with Dahlia, for obvious reasons, but I am the Voss-Ra’s chosen champion, the Emperor’s Jedi-hunting hand, an integral piece of the prophecy to restore the Sith to power. I will not abide games, Erinbol.”

“As you wish, Inquisitor Involis. Please continue. I am interested in your conclusions.”

“We also discovered evidence that the trigger of his death never went beyond the first clone and we were never really in danger of a true-Schrag reappearing to foil our plans. From the looks of it, he and his agents were not even close to achieving the kind of results with the legacy gene that he hoped and we feared. If this was the case then why encourage us on that trail at all, knowing what could have been lost? If Dahlia were killed the cycle would restart and all of this would have been for nothing. At least, that is my understanding. How am I doing so far?”

“Better than expected,” Erinbol admits. “The goal of seeking out the clones may not have been solely to eliminate them – the Voss-Ra already took those precautions – but to forge a bond between you and Dahlia.”

“A bond? I did not take you for the sentimental type. Well then, how did I fare on your little test?”

“Not so much a test as working out a hypothesis in real-time. You see, when it comes to the prophecy, the relationship between The Beast and Daughter of Darkness had never not been adversarial. The triumph, if it ever got that far, still led to failure. We needed to know what would happen if she defeated you but kept you alive – assuming she did defeat you. It has never been done before. Changing a variable of that magnitude posed a considerable risk for all involved but was deemed…critical on the pathway to fulfillment in this cycle given the failures of the past. Something needed to change in order to change the outcome. You are what needed to change.”

“I could have killed her,” Seif counters warningly. “Probing the limits of Dahlia’s power was only my secondary directive. Perishing in the pursuit of eliminating Gemma Masterton, Riley Patten, and Dane Gellar was considered acceptable collateral for the mission. Or, at least that is what you allowed Schrag to believe. I cannot tell if you had more faith in her or less faith in me. Either way, you gambled the entire future of the Sith on chance.”

“Not chance. Strategic risk cultivated over a longer period of time than you even realize. The Voss-Ra would not have made this recommendation without certainty it had a fair chance of success. Their trust in you is profound, to say the least. The Beast had always perished for The Daughter of Darkness to thrive – most recently, Alexia Winton. Although she was more difficult to kill than previous incarnations, she was still buried by the Daughter’s hand. You already reinterpreted the meaning of “slay” when the princess pressed you about it, as the Voss-Ra had instructed.”

“She needed context to better understand her role.”

“You did as well, once upon a time. As I recall, you were not keen on taking up the mantle of The Beast. Such is the fickle nature of prophecy. We are in service of something much greater than ourselves. As I told Barrett, this was not as specific as others were led to believe. Slay, in certain contexts, can mean to impress and Dahlia certainly did with her display of power and strength. She was underestimated on multiple fronts and bested you in combat, only for you to sway her to the cause with your connection. Circumstance required further evaluation and interpretation but the core tenants of the prophecy, around which the Voss-Ra built their philosophy, remain the same.”

“The Crimson Covenant.”

“Yes. This grew from the belief that one of the four descendants of Persephone held the power to restore the Sith. One that, over time, came to identify the Winton as the key component of that philosophy. Each cycle uncovered more knowledge about their unique abilities and contributions toward this outcome. Gellar and Patten were eventually ruled out, leaving Masterton and Winton as the viable alternatives. The daughters of darkness and light. Not every cycle aligned in this way but those that did were observed carefully for compromising trends.”

“And what did everyone surmise from these observations?”

“The Daughter of Light is and always has been operating on targeted disinformation often spurred by a kind of delusional, counter-productive self-righteousness so often associated with the Jedi. The Touchstones fall along respective faction lines, the embodiment of tyrant and idealist. It was The Daughter of Darkness’ approach to The Beast that was considered the most promising opportunity to leverage.”

“You risked our safety and the outcome of the prophecy on something with only a fair chance of success? The Voss-Ra are patient to a fault but they are not careless. Not when it comes to this.”

Erinbol draws his hands together in the folds of the neutral fabric of his sleeves.

“We are close. Closer now than we have ever been. Therefore, it was a risk we were all willing to take, one that appears as successful as your mission. Do you not care about her now, emotionally invested in her survival and wellbeing? She is family. The only real family you have ever known. Or ever will.”

Despite the finality of the statement, he is defensive, alarmed by how quickly his feelings turned on him when they served as the stalwart of his storied career as a Jedi-killer.

“She is a vessel of the prophecy, as all other Winton’s have been.”

“The way you are acting now says otherwise, Inquisitor. It radiates from you, the same way it radiated off all the others. Resist if you dare but something within you has changed. You can feel it as well as I. You will fight for her, for us, and for the Sith. This is uncharted territory and we need you to see us through. Will you see us through, for the Covenant?”

He moves to the other side of the fire, mesmerized by the glow.

The reflection of the flames dance across his titian armor. Erinbol is right. He does have questions that go deeper than his fascinating jaunt through exposition city. And he is protecting Dahlia, even now, by withholding the full story of what happened on Prakith. Seif always believed the Voss-Ra had been transparent with him. Now the revisions of their foresight douse everything in a greasy accelerant of fervor and dread. The way he heard it; the prophecy was not something they could improvise their way to realization. Each calculation moves them closer with reinterpretations of the text bending the path toward fulfillment. He trusts in that. In them. And Seif wants to be free – free of the role they cast him in, free to be who he is, and now he knows the one way to do that. Looking deeper, Dahlia’s face appears in the deep crimson tendrils of flame. It does not burn the doubt from within him – he is but a piece of their plans, they all are – but now the intersectionality of their destinies become intensely clear. The truth always known is her. She is the way.

“For the Covenant.”









-TBC