Chapter 20: The Lessons of Darkness

Zorin knelt before the altar, his hands resting lightly on the cold stone, the crimson light of the holocron reflecting off his face. The chamber was silent, save for the low hum of the dark energy pulsing through the ancient Sith artifact. Zorin's breathing was steady, his focus unbroken. He had been here for hours, meditating on the teachings locked within the holocron, struggling to unravel its secrets.

But the holocron was resisting him.

Its power was immense, like trying to hold back a tide of darkness with bare hands. Every time Zorin tried to delve deeper, it pushed back, flooding his mind with chaotic visions—ancient wars, crumbling empires, and the cries of the dead. The knowledge it held was there, just beyond his reach, but the holocron guarded it jealously.

"You must yield to the dark side, Zorin," Darth Malios's voice echoed from behind him. Zorin didn't turn, but he felt the presence of his master looming in the shadows, watching his every move. "The holocron will not simply give up its secrets. You must take them."

Zorin gritted his teeth, frustration boiling within him. He had spent days here, meditating, channeling his power into the holocron, but it remained elusive. He could feel it testing him, trying to break him. But Zorin was no ordinary apprentice. He had not clawed his way off Korriban to be bested by an ancient relic.

His anger surged, and he let it rise, feeding the dark side within him. His hands tightened on the stone, and the crimson light of the holocron flared brighter.

"I am not here to yield," Zorin growled. "I am here to conquer."

The holocron pulsed, as if mocking his defiance. Zorin closed his eyes, letting the dark energy flow through him, feeling its weight, its terrible force. He reached out with his mind, not to plead for the knowledge, but to tear it from the holocron's grasp. His rage gave him focus, and he pushed harder, demanding its secrets.

The holocron's defenses faltered.

Suddenly, Zorin was pulled into a vision—his consciousness ripped from the present and thrust into the past. He stood in the midst of a battlefield, blood-soaked and chaotic. The sky above was dark with smoke, and the ground trembled with the force of the conflict. Sith and Jedi clashed all around him, their lightsabers flashing in a deadly dance of power.

At the center of the battlefield stood a figure—tall, imposing, cloaked in shadow. His face was hidden beneath a dark hood, but Zorin could feel the immense power radiating from him, a power unlike anything he had ever felt before. This was the Sith Lord who had created the holocron. Zorin knew it instinctively.

The Sith Lord raised his hand, and the ground beneath the Jedi forces erupted in a wave of dark energy. The Jedi screamed as the power tore through them, their bodies disintegrating into ash. The Sith Lord watched impassively, his eyes burning with the dark side.

"You seek my knowledge," the Sith Lord's voice echoed through the vision, cold and ancient. "But knowledge is not given. It is taken through suffering, through destruction."

Zorin felt a cold hand on his mind, as if the Sith Lord was reaching into his soul, testing him, weighing his worth. The battlefield shifted, the landscape dissolving into shadows, and Zorin found himself standing before the Sith Lord, alone in the void.

"Show me," the Sith Lord said, his voice a command. "Show me your power, or be consumed by it."

Zorin's lightsaber ignited in his hand, the red blade humming in the darkness. He felt the weight of the challenge, but there was no fear. Only determination. He had come too far, sacrificed too much, to be denied now.

The Sith Lord remained still, watching, waiting.

With a roar, Zorin launched himself forward, his lightsaber cutting through the air in a furious arc. But the Sith Lord moved like a shadow, his form dissolving and reappearing behind Zorin with blinding speed. Zorin barely had time to react as the Sith Lord's crimson blade struck toward him.

Zorin parried, their sabers clashing with a crackle of energy. The force of the blow sent him staggering back, but he recovered quickly, his anger fueling him. He attacked again, faster this time, his strikes precise and deadly. The Sith Lord blocked each one effortlessly, his movements smooth and controlled, as if he were toying with Zorin.

"You are strong," the Sith Lord said, his voice calm. "But strength alone is not enough. You must become more."

Zorin snarled, his frustration growing. He could feel the Sith Lord's power pressing down on him, like a mountain crushing his spirit. But Zorin refused to break. He would not fail.

The Sith Lord's blade came down in a brutal strike, and Zorin barely managed to block it, the force of the blow sending him to his knees. His arms trembled under the strain, his body screaming in pain. But pain was nothing. Pain was fuel.

He called on the dark side, letting it surge through him, filling him with raw power. His muscles burned with energy, and with a roar of defiance, he shoved the Sith Lord's blade aside and rose to his feet, his eyes burning with fury.

The Sith Lord smiled. "Good. But you must give more."

Zorin's mind raced. He had given everything, pushed himself to the brink. What more could he offer?

Then, it hit him. The answer wasn't more power—it was surrender. Not to the Sith Lord, but to the darkness itself. He needed to embrace the full depths of the dark side, to let go of the last vestiges of restraint holding him back.

He closed his eyes, lowering his lightsaber. He could feel the dark side swirling around him, inviting him in, urging him to let go. He opened himself fully to it, allowing the darkness to flood his mind, his soul. His pain, his anger, his fear—all of it dissolved into the black void, replaced by pure, unyielding power.

When Zorin opened his eyes, the Sith Lord was gone.

He stood alone in the void, but he could feel the holocron's presence all around him. The knowledge he sought was his now, no longer hidden. The power of the ancient Sith flowed through him, a torrent of dark energy that threatened to overwhelm him—but he held firm.

Zorin had passed the test. He had proven himself worthy.

The vision faded, and Zorin found himself back in the chamber, kneeling before the holocron. The crimson light had dimmed, but Zorin could feel the power thrumming within it, now attuned to him.

Behind him, Darth Malios stepped forward, his eyes gleaming with approval.

"You have done well, Zorin," Malios said, his voice thick with satisfaction. "You are now ready."

Zorin rose to his feet, the weight of his victory settling over him like a cloak. "What comes next, my lord?"

Malios's smile was predatory. "War, Zorin. The galaxy burns, and now, you will burn with it."

Zorin's heart surged. He had unlocked the holocron's secrets, but his journey was far from over. The galaxy was vast, and the Sith Empire's enemies were many. But now, Zorin was armed with the dark knowledge of the ancients, and he would carve his legacy into the stars.

The war was only beginning. And he would be at the forefront, leading the charge, leaving nothing but destruction in his wake.