A Price Worth Paying

[Ervius Xann]

This ransacked tomb of some long-forgotten sith lord stood out among its peers. Most Sith were rather selfish egotistical creatures who viewed themselves as the center of the Universe. An amusing perspective brought on by the sweet quiet whispers of the Dark Side. Sith tombs reflected this paradigm, nearly all of them had their resident’s sarcophagus as the centerpiece. This one did not.

Instead, Ervius stood at the very heart of a structure looted thousands of years ago and could see the sky. The architect of this peculiar resting place chose to erect the monumental halls around an inner courtyard. The atmosphere here would have felt serene but for the bloodlust that every brick of the tomb radiated many thousands of years after its owner’s death. Still, Ervius could not help but wonder if the one buried here liked the stars as he did.

As though on some whim of fate, the night was calm, no storms ravaged this hemisphere of Dromund Kaas. Far above, a tiny wound opened in the thick blanket of ever-present clouds, letting one glimpse just a speck of cosmos in all its splendor — an intricate web of shining jewels against the backdrop of relentless void. It was beautiful.

“You are unusually mellow today, my wretched apprentice,” a translucent figure of a man spoke. It appeared as though woven from mist that permeated the entirety of Dromund Kaas.

“And you are just on time, ‘master’,” Ervius cast a mocking sideways glance at the guest before returning to stargazing. There was something special about these moments when his Force sense could not break through the haze of the Dark Side, and he had to rely only on the five mundane senses to perceive the splendor of the Universe. Ervius would not call the feeling ‘joy’ or ‘happiness’ or even ‘fulfillment’… No… Maybe ‘enlightening’ would do or ‘haunting’ or perhaps both. He could liken the sensation only to standing on the precipice of abyss and being forced — continuously — to stare down.

“Don’t play coy with me,” the apparition spat. “You murdered me in cold blood.”

“My blood was quite hot the whole time, I assure you,” Ervius’s gaze became condescending. “You’re not about to try that entire guilt-trip routine again, will you? I am a sith, you know. Not some rookie acolyte.”

“Not even trying to deny it, how typical of you,” the ghost sneered.

“There is nothing to deny,” the living Sith chuckled. “Especially to myself.”

“It’s amusing how you still refuse to recognize me as your master’s ghost,” the apparition rolled its transparent eyes. “After nearly a week of talking to me, no less. Don’t you think you’re being rude at the very least, apprentice?”

“Why in the name of the Force would I need to be polite with a fragment of my imagination?” Ervius scoffed. “Had you been a ghost, we would have had our little contest of Force lighting mastery quite a while ago. Besides, what is there to be ashamed of? It’s as you, well the real you, said: there is only cause and effect.”

“Action and consequence,” the apparition nodded.

For a moment, there was silence, broken only by the rustling of wind in the surrounding trees and the occasional thrills of some night birds.

“You know I’ve always perceived the Force as a star,” Ervius spoke suddenly.

“Oh I do know, I’ve trained you… to my doom,” the apparition grumbled.

“Oh lighten up, you’re too much of a grouch,” Ervius chuckled, finally turning to look at his companion.

“Says the man who, in his own view, is talking to himself,” the apparition shot back.

“Oh, you are not me,” Ervius’s tone reverted back to pure condescension. “You are merely a collection of my random emotions that this place could get to, amplified by the Dark Side. It is more akin to talking to one’s spontaneously animated caricature. Begone now, little illusion.”

With a minor effort, Ervius banished the apparition, and it melted away.

Yes, the more or less still young Sith had always viewed the Force as a tempestuous star with a halo radiant enough to scorch galaxies. The Dark Side allowed him to reach within this magnificent presence and exact his will upon the tiny fraction of the world he happened to occupy at the moment. Everything came at a cost, of course. No matter how much the Jedi boasted about their self-control and discipline, none of them could comprehend the kind of iron will one required to work with the Dark Side and to keep oneself from its jaws. One slip, and the sweet honeyed whispers would turn into burning poison — Ervius saw it happen multiple times.

Still, for the privilege of touching this most glorious star, the price was adequate.

 

[Ervius Xann]

Ervius’s apartment on Dromund Kaas was not grand by any means, but it did not lack space. Being a sith champion had its advantages. Usually, he would be in his study in the mornings, going through the findings of his previous expedition or planning the next one. Instead, here he was, in the meditation room.

Said room featured a lot of empty space and quite a few tall windows that offered a spectacular view of the city outside – at least when the weather got better. The only furniture in sight was a stand with few force artifacts Ervius and his master had collected over the years. A holocron of some insignificant sith, a couple of ancient tablets that gained resonance in the Force after spending between four to five millenia in a sith tomb on Ziost, and finally the lightsaber that belonged to Ervius’s master. A small collection to be sure, but a valuable one nonetheless. It had traps based on sith magic to protect it too.

Ervius sat in the center of the room, immersing himself in the Force or rather its Dark Side aspect. No matter how much he could go on about the importance of discipline and keeping one’s emotions in check, they were the source of every sith’s power. He was no exception to this rule. For Ervius, love seemed flimsy, hatred – whimsical, anger – fleeting. He drew power from cold rage. It remained persistent through the years. Once roused, this particular emotion would not go away without active effort on the person’s part. At the same time, a sith with a strong enough will could easily push their cold rage aside.

The common sense and his meager knowledge of psychology told Ervius that being constantly enraged was not conducive to a lucid mind or just plain mental health. Unfortunately, sith had no such luxury. Anything and everything had to serve the pursuit of power or be discarded.

“Ah, my foolish apprentice,” a voice spoke in his mind, making Ervius shiver. “Ever the rational one, ever the treacherous one. I wonder how long it will take for you to follow in my footsteps.”

“You’re a fragment of my imagination,” Ervius spoke for his own benefit. It helped him center himself in reality. It did not seem to dissuade the voice.

“Oh really? So what if I am? If that is true, you have all the more reasons to be worried,” the specter retorted. “After all, it is one thing to speak to ghosts, but to hear voices inside your mind…”

“Shut up,” Ervius spoke.

“My my, hasn’t someone said they were beyond worry about me?” the voice taunted. “Why, I would shed a tear, but I’m not alive anymore thanks to you. I wonder when you will try a ritual sacrifice of another…”

“Not any time soon,” Ervius snapped.

“We shall see, we shall see,” the voice faded away, sinking back to obscurity.

The Force, which had grown turbulent, settled back like a mantle of otherworldly coldness over Ervius’s shoulder. The champion took a shuddering breath and opened his eyes. The familiar landscape of Dromund Kaas seemed more haunting than usual or perhaps it was his own imagination drawing shadows where there were none. Yes, having your master almost sacrifice you for power did not lend itself to a healthy psyche.

Ervius recognized that he needed a permanent solution. In this case, discipline was a bandaid.

He needed to go to Korriban. If there was an answer, he would find it in sith magic.

 

[Ervius Xann]

The wonders of the Force knew no limit. Ervis never stopped marveling at the sheer complexity and scale of that phenomenon. The Jedi foolishly believed in some misconceptions of the so-called natural order, shunning the practices of Force alchemy or any of the other countless arts invented across the galaxy. For Ervius, there was only cause and effect, action and consequence. No aspect of nature possessed any sanctity in his eyes, all were meant to be acted upon.

That philosophy helped him in learning Sith magic, a very powerful and beautiful craft. More importantly, it was a prelude to Sith alchemy, an art unsurpassed in the ages. At the moment, however, Ervius stood in the restricted archives of the Academy, searching for rituals considered obscure even by the standards of the Sith Order, an organization specialized in losing secrets.

Few sith had ever pursued mind healing. The order focused on destruction most of the time as opposed to mending. There were so very few references, a good deal of them mythological or semi-mythological. Under any other circumstances, Ervius would have perused them, but at the moment he was rather preoccupied with silencing the voice of his dead master in his own head. It figured that the mad fool would try to haunt his best student from beyond the grave. Ashalan had that bad habit of coming everywhere at the worst possible time.

Strangely enough, the voice seemed to be conspicuously silent on Korriban. Not that Ervius let himself be fooled by the ploy. Sith, like the Dark Side they used, thrived on deception. On that note, when did the databanks change their color scheme? They always had red lights, yet now those lamps glowed purple. Ervius concentrated and noticed that the metal edges seemed wobbly, wavering almost like mist in the wind.

“I’m dreaming, aren’t I?” he asked no one in particular. As expected, no reply followed his question.

“Well show yourself, this cannot be a usual dream,” Ervius scoffed. He had just tried waking up and found himself unable to do that.

“Clever boy,” a feminine voice mocked him. In a moment, a figure resembling a sith pureblood female knit itself together from the purple mist. “So clever, and yet you came to Korriban in search of answers… You should know, little sith, we are not famous for offering guidance.”

“I came here to consult the archives, not to speak with ghosts,” Ervius scowled.

“Oh please, you came to Korriban, the two are practically interchangeable,” the female spirit waved Ervius’s objections away.

“And what do you want?” Ervius asked.

“Well, so many things really,” the spirit sighed. “But I don’t suppose you’d be willing to share that wonderful living body of yours?”

“How astute of you,” Ervius shot back, eliciting a chuckle from his interlocutor.

“In that case, maybe you can do my bidding just a little…” the spirit trailed off. “Then again, there would be no guarantee that you would actually do anything once I release you.”

“You won’t get it either way,” Ervius rolled his eyes.

“True, true, but then I have other methods of compelling obedience, now don’t strain your mental defenses, I am talking about a reward, not a hijacking,” the spirit chuckled.

"How droll," Ervius scoffed, "a sith ghost talking of mutual benefit."

"Do commit the scene to memory. Whenever will you see something like that again, boy?" the ghost mimicked Ervius's tone. "On a more serious note, what you want is not here. But I know where it is. Incidentally, that is exactly where I need you to go."

"Oh?" Ervius would rather meditate on the event horizon of a black hole than trust an ancient sith, but he would hear the apparition out — for the sake of his curiosity if nothing else. Talkative ghosts were a rare treat, even on Korriban.

"Malachor V," the ghost replied.

“Right,” Ervius drawled. “Shall I go to the Maw next? Maybe go for a stroll in Wild Space?”

“Don’t get sarcastic with me, little sith,” the spirit scowled. The champion was not sure whether specters could scowl, as they did lack the eyes necessary for the gesture. Still, this ghost made a convincing imitation. “I am the one offering you a cure, you're the one in need of it."

The spirit stilled.

“Or perhaps, have I hurt your little pride?” it mocked.

“Enough,” Ervius growled, almost losing his hold on the cold rage which fueled his connection to the Force. “Just tell me why I should go there, specter.”

“Now why don’t you figure it out yourself?” the spirit shrugged and melted away.

Ervius jolted and opened his eyes. He found himself standing in the archives of the Academy. The real archives this time. He sighed. He would need time to process this dream — or was it a vision? Ervius took a deep breath to push the anxiety further back, but for once it refused to bow to his will.

 

[Ervius Xann]

Ervius stood inside a tomb. The reliefs shifted continuously, at some point depicting an epic battle in the skies of Korriban and Moraband, only to change and reflect the fall of the sith the next second. Unexpectedly, the walls moved, and a window opened lIke a maw, demonstrating the eternal rain of Dromund Kaas. He recognized this place for what it was, a dreamscape. The champion was fairly certain none of these reliefs had ever been brought to his apartments on Dromund Kaas. All of a sudden, a wave of foreign anger washed over him, and Ervius ignited his lightsaber as he turned to the side, blocking another red blade just in time.

His master stood there in all his dreadful glory, lightsaber blazing and eyes aglow with malice. The sith pureblood snarled and momentarily drew his blade back, only to renew the vicious attack.

The two sith battled it out, red filling the room, as walls of swirling shadows shifted around them to accommodate the fight. A flurry of motion acted through the dreamscape, only the low hum of deadly technology filled it, interrupted by the occasional his that accompanied every parry and every strike. Ervius saw the twisting ethereal realm and frowned, even as he blocked another of his master's attacks. They could dance like that eternally, and forever achieve nothing. Unacceptable.

With this in mind, Ervius used the Force to get some distance between himself and his former master.

"Do you think distance matters?" the pureblood taunted the champion. "You have been running this entire time, and look where that got you. Consumed by anger, very soon you will rage against the very notion of possibly losing anything, especially your worthless hide."

"I am not quite like you," Ervius frowned.

"Ha! Self-delusion doesn't suit you, apprentice," the other sith chuckled. "It is the way of the sith. You can pretend to deny your urges, to hold back your anger. Eventually, every dam breaks."

"My will is stronger than yours!" Ervius exclaimed and directed the twisting currents of his rage against the visage of his former master. To his bewilderment, the ghost merely laughed and deflected the lightning.

"Your connection to the Force says otherwise," the sith pureblood kept laughing, as an immeasurable presence seized Ervius and squeezed the life out of him.

The man woke up with a gasp. He had thought that being aware of one's dream would grant one control over it, but this exchange shattered that notion. Ervius felt utterly powerless. Even now. The cold revelation turned the gears in his mind. His rational part, the one he relied on to keep the cold rage and anger in check, recognized the truth of his former master's words. Ervius realized that he was falling: he could not give up anger, it tied him to the Force and gave him power. He could certainly not embrace it.

Ervius opened his eyes and realized that he needed to go to Malachor V. Whether this dream was a genuine one or the result of his latest encounter with a sith ghost on Korriban, that planet held answers to questions that Ervius chose not to ask all those years ago, when his master's corpse lay at his feet.