Chapter 19: Into the Shadows

The depot burned behind them as the Imperial forces pulled out, leaving nothing but destruction in their wake. The mission had been a resounding success—at least, in the eyes of the Sith Empire. Zorin strode through the wreckage, his black robes billowing in the wind, the lingering smell of scorched metal and blood filling his senses. His lightsaber remained clipped to his belt, its crimson glow now dormant, but the echoes of battle still thrummed in his veins.

As he boarded the shuttle back to The Obsidian Spear, his mind churned. The fight with the Jedi had been satisfying, but it was not enough. Every victory brought him closer to his goal, but every day under Darth Malios's shadow made him hunger for more. He wasn't here to simply fight the Republic—he was here to rise above the ranks of the Sith.

And that meant he couldn't just be a weapon for Malios.

The shuttle ascended into the black void of space, leaving Corellia's ravaged surface behind. Zorin settled into his seat, his fingers tapping against the armrest. He could sense the unease in the commandos around him. They had fought well, and he'd led them to victory, but they knew what he was—an apprentice to a Sith Lord. To them, he was as much a threat as any Republic soldier.

Good, Zorin thought. Fear was power, and he would need every ounce of it to survive.

The shuttle docked with The Obsidian Spear, and Zorin stepped onto the deck with purpose. The dreadnought hummed with the activity of a war machine—crews rushing to their stations, officers barking orders, and the ever-present aura of control. Zorin felt at home in the chaos. But before he could relish the moment, a familiar presence descended upon him.

Darth Malios awaited him on the bridge.

As Zorin approached, he could see his master standing by the war table, eyes fixed on the holographic display of the galaxy's battlefronts. Malios didn't look up when Zorin entered, but Zorin knew the Sith Lord was aware of his presence.

"You succeeded," Malios said, his voice calm but carrying that undercurrent of menace that always accompanied his words. "The depot is destroyed. The Republic's supply lines will be in disarray."

Zorin knelt, lowering his head. "The mission was completed as you commanded, my lord."

"And the Jedi?" Malios asked, his tone as indifferent as if he were discussing the weather.

"Dead," Zorin replied. "He was no match for the dark side."

Malios finally turned to face him, his gaze sharp and piercing. For a long moment, the Sith Lord said nothing, simply studying Zorin as though weighing him. The silence was unnerving, but Zorin held firm. He had no intention of showing any weakness.

"You have potential, Zorin," Malios said, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous tone. "But potential is nothing without control. You have survived Korriban and proven yourself in battle. Now, you must understand what it means to be truly Sith."

Zorin looked up, his eyes meeting Malios's. "I am ready, my lord."

"Are you?" Malios's smile was a thin line, devoid of warmth. "I have seen many like you, Zorin. Acolytes who rise quickly, hungry for power, eager to prove themselves. But power without restraint is a blade that cuts both ways. You will not last long if you let your ambition blind you."

Zorin felt a flicker of irritation but masked it beneath a veil of obedience. "What would you have me do, master?"

"You will accompany me on a mission," Malios said, stepping away from the war table. "The Empire's war with the Republic is but one part of the greater conflict. There are other enemies—hidden threats that must be dealt with before they undermine everything we have built."

Zorin's interest piqued. This was new. A secret mission, something beyond the war on the front lines? He rose to his feet. "Where are we going?"

Malios's eyes glinted with dark purpose. "To Dromund Kaas. There, you will witness the true face of the Sith Empire's power. And if you survive, you may yet learn what it means to be Sith."

The shuttle slipped through hyperspace, bound for Dromund Kaas, the seat of the Sith Empire's power. Zorin sat in the back, his mind racing with possibilities. Dromund Kaas was the heart of the Empire, home to the Emperor himself. If Malios was taking him there, it wasn't just for a simple mission. Something bigger was at play.

But what?

Zorin glanced at his master, seated across from him, shrouded in his dark robes. Malios hadn't spoken since they left The Obsidian Spear, but his presence was oppressive, like a storm waiting to break. Zorin's instincts told him to remain silent. Whatever was coming, Malios would reveal it in his own time.

Hours passed, and finally, the shuttle dropped out of hyperspace, the dark, storm-ridden world of Dromund Kaas filling the viewport. Lightning crackled across the planet's surface, illuminating the sprawling city below—Kaasp City, the capital of the Sith Empire.

The shuttle descended through the storm, landing on one of the many platforms surrounding the Imperial Citadel. Zorin followed Malios out of the shuttle, stepping into the rain-soaked air. The citadel loomed above them, a towering black fortress that radiated power and fear. Zorin had heard the stories—of how the Emperor ruled from within its shadowy halls, and how countless Sith Lords jockeyed for power under his watchful gaze.

But today, they were not here to see the Emperor. Malios led him into the citadel, past the labyrinth of corridors and chambers until they reached a hidden passageway, guarded by Sith sentinels in dark armor. The guards stepped aside without a word as Malios passed, and Zorin followed close behind.

They descended deep into the heart of the citadel, the air growing colder, heavier with each step. Zorin could feel the dark side pulsing through the walls, a presence so ancient and powerful it was almost suffocating. Whatever lay ahead, it was not meant for the eyes of the common Sith.

Finally, they reached a massive door, sealed with Sith runes that glowed faintly in the dim light. Malios raised his hand, and the door creaked open with a low, ominous groan.

Inside, the chamber was vast, lit only by torches that flickered with an unnatural light. The walls were lined with relics—ancient Sith artifacts, weapons, and holocrons, each one humming with the power of the dark side. In the center of the room stood a stone altar, and on it lay a holocron larger than any Zorin had ever seen. Its surface was black, veined with crimson light, and it pulsed like a heartbeat.

Zorin's eyes widened. He could feel the raw power radiating from the holocron, a dark and ancient energy that filled the room like a living entity.

"This," Malios said, his voice reverent, "is the key to the future of the Sith. A holocron of such power that it was hidden away for centuries, forgotten by all but the most powerful of our kind."

Zorin stepped closer, the pull of the holocron irresistible. "What… what is it, my lord?"

Malios smiled, a wicked, knowing grin. "It contains the teachings of an ancient Sith Lord, one who understood the true nature of the dark side. You will study it, Zorin. And if you are worthy, it will reveal its secrets to you."

Zorin's heart pounded in his chest. This was it—his chance to rise above, to seize true power. But he could feel the danger, the weight of the responsibility that came with such knowledge.

"You will begin immediately," Malios said, stepping back. "But be warned, Zorin—this holocron has broken many before you. Do not let it break you."

Zorin nodded, stepping toward the altar. His hand hovered over the holocron, the dark energy swirling around him. He could feel its power calling to him, whispering promises of greatness and destruction.

He reached out, and the holocron responded, its crimson light flaring to life. The dark side surged through him, overwhelming, intoxicating. Zorin gasped, his mind flooded with visions—battles, blood, fire. The galaxy torn asunder by the power of the Sith.

But he held on, clenching his fists, his will unshakable. He would not be broken. He would master this power, no matter the cost.

And when he did, the galaxy would tremble at his feet.