Chapter 1: Awakening on Korriban

The cold winds of Korriban swept through the Valley of the Dark Lords, carrying with them the scent of ancient death and power. The twin suns barely pierced the stormy red clouds overhead, casting a dull, blood-like glow over the desolate world. The towering statues of long-dead Sith Lords watched over the valley like silent sentinels, their carved faces twisted in eternal rage.

A lone figure stood at the entrance of the Sith Academy, shrouded in a black cloak that flapped in the wind. Underneath the hood, bright, golden eyes gleamed with determination. This was Zorin Vaal, a new acolyte, freshly arrived on Korriban. He was young, barely of age to begin his training, but his power was undeniable. It radiated from him like heat from a flame, even if it remained raw and unrefined.

Zorin's path to this moment had been anything but typical. Unlike the other acolytes who had come from noble Sith families or were plucked from obscure planets by Sith Lords, Zorin's life before Korriban was shrouded in mystery—even to himself. His earliest memories were fractured, filled with flashes of violence and voices calling his name in a language he couldn't understand. The Force had always been there, just beneath his skin, but it was different for him.

He wasn't like the others.

Zorin had always possessed a rare and dangerous gift—one that marked him as an anomaly, even among Force users. He had the ability to manipulate the thoughts and emotions of those around him, not by suggestion or subtle influence, but by forcibly twisting their perceptions, altering their reality. In moments of anger, he had driven others mad, trapping them in hallucinations so vivid that they couldn't distinguish what was real from illusion.

This power had earned him the attention of the Sith, and it was what had brought him here, to the heart of darkness itself.

As Zorin stepped inside the ancient academy, the oppressive weight of the dark side pressed down on him. The walls were adorned with Sith runes, and the air was thick with the echoes of past betrayals, tortures, and trials. The Academy on Korriban was a place of legend, where countless Sith had risen—and fallen—in their quest for power. Here, only the strong survived. The weak were left to die in the tombs of the long-forgotten.

Zorin's footsteps echoed in the grand hall as he made his way toward the central chamber where the Overseer awaited him. His heart pounded in his chest, not from fear, but from anticipation. He had been waiting for this moment his entire life.

When he entered the chamber, he found several other acolytes already gathered. They were all different in appearance—some human, some Twi'lek, and others of alien species—but they shared the same hardened expressions, the same thirst for power. In the center of the room stood Overseer Darth Atrinok, a tall, imposing figure draped in the dark robes of the Sith. His pale face was etched with deep lines, and his eyes burned with cold cruelty.

Atrinok's gaze swept over the new arrivals, his lips curling into a faint sneer. "Welcome to Korriban," he said, his voice a low, dangerous growl. "You stand here at the threshold of true power. But understand this—only one or two of you will survive to see the end of your training. The rest of you will either die in disgrace or be cast into the tombs to rot with the failures of the past."

The Overseer's words hung in the air, a challenge to each acolyte. Zorin could feel the tension rising, the hunger for dominance already stirring among the others.

"You will be tested," Atrinok continued, pacing in front of them. "Your loyalty to the Sith, your connection to the dark side, and your willingness to do whatever it takes to seize power. If you show weakness, if you hesitate, you will be destroyed."

Zorin stood tall, his expression unreadable beneath his hood. He had expected nothing less. The Sith thrived on competition, on the brutal elimination of the weak. He knew his power gave him an advantage, but it also made him a target. If anyone discovered the true extent of his abilities too soon, they would likely turn on him before he had the chance to solidify his place among the Sith.

Atrinok's gaze fell on him, and Zorin felt the dark side pulse between them, like two predators sizing each other up. "You," the Overseer said, his voice dripping with disdain. "Step forward."

Zorin did as commanded, his golden eyes locking onto the Overseer's.

Atrinok studied him for a moment, then nodded. "There is something different about you. The dark side clings to you, but not in the way it does to the others." His eyes narrowed. "What is your name, boy?"

"Zorin Vaal," he replied, his voice steady, though the room seemed to hold its breath as he spoke.

The Overseer's lips twisted into a cruel smile. "Zorin Vaal. I sense... potential in you. But potential is worthless without strength. Tell me, what makes you think you are worthy of standing here?"

Zorin hesitated only for a fraction of a second. He knew the answer Atrinok was looking for—strength, ruthlessness, ambition. But instead, Zorin reached out with his unique power, just enough to brush against the Overseer's mind, planting a seed of doubt, a flicker of confusion.

"I will show you," Zorin said, his voice calm but laced with hidden intent. "When the time comes, you will see what I am capable of."

Atrinok's eyes flickered, a momentary hint of uncertainty crossing his features before his usual mask of control returned. He sneered, but Zorin could tell he had felt it—his power. The Overseer stepped back, dismissing him with a wave of his hand. "We shall see."

As Zorin returned to his place among the other acolytes, he could feel their eyes on him. Some curious, some hostile. They had sensed something too, though they didn't yet understand what it was. But Zorin wasn't concerned with their opinions. He was focused on his survival, and on unlocking the full potential of his ability.

The trials ahead would be brutal. They would test him in ways he couldn't yet imagine. But as Zorin stood in the shadow of the ancient Sith Lords, he knew one thing for certain: he was ready.

And in time, all of Korriban would know his name.