At the End of the Galaxy

[Leviticus]

It was cold.

His hand slid along the edge of the kyber crystal. It was the same crystal used at the Tragedy of Ilum, and it would be the same crystal used in many of Leviticus’ coming crusade. The Hutt Cartel, the Republic, and most of all, the Jedi Order. None of them would survive. Against the combined strength of the Force at his fingertips and the crystal at his feet, what more could they do than watch the spectacle of their destruction? If not, at least he would. There was nothing more he wanted than revenge. At first, he was fixated on it. Then, he let it consume him, let it chew at him piece by piece until nothing was left but that singular, relentless desire. A hunger so great, it was eating him alive.

He couldn’t sleep. He could hardly eat. His eyes were sunken, lips broken and hair sloppy. That professional, polished Sith Lord he once was had drained away, as had the blood in his cheeks and the power of his presence. His resolve had never wavered, his strength had only grown, but his men couldn’t look at him anymore. Respect for him was forgotten, replaced with fear and unease. Last week, a messenger had arrived with news from Korriban and Andraste, whom he had not seen or so much as spoken to since the last Council meeting. The messenger's body was found frozen and broken several kilometers from the encampment days later. How he had gone so far or why he was twisted in a way that disturbed even the most battle-hardened soldiers were questions best not answered.

Still, Leviticus knew. He heard the rumors and the gossip and felt the fear permeating the air. Did he care? Never. What mattered was the mission and his singular purpose, regardless of how much it cost him. Blood, sweat, tears, restless nights or endless days, hygiene, his own general well-being. Forget having contact with the outside world. He was fine in his lonesome, even if he spoke to himself on many occasions, even if he was slipping into madness and corruption. Was it the effects of the kyber crystal, was it that parasite of the dark side released by the abomination back on Prakith? Again, it didn’t matter. The only truth was the one he could see with his own two eyes: the crystal below him and the devastation he would soon unleash.

He came to a halt. In the many mysterious reflections of the crystal, Levi could have sworn he saw Liliana, her eyes and smile as wide as the first day they met. His nails scratched the crystal, uncertain, before pulling away. “No, of course not.” He whispered as his fingers ran through his hair. “What are you thinking, Leviticus? You’re mad. She’s dead.” A sigh as he felt his own words sink into his chest. This time full of silent grief. “She’s dead.” The delirious Sith Lord looked away from crystal and to the star-studded sky. “It’s fine. They’re coming, I can feel it. I need to be ready.”

He circled the kyber, now at the peak of its potential, and waited. He knew the Order was coming. After all, it was he who leaked to them his location, his plans, everything. Leviticus didn’t have to fabricate a story to lure them onto Ilum. Their worst fears were now reality. Of course, they would come.

Of course, they would die.

@Malon @Esther Nyx

 

[Wyck]

The only ship small enough to slip passed the Sith blockade above Ilum was the Jedi dropship—a Gris-class gunship called the Thyr. Wyck had not been back to Ilum since that dreaded battle decades ago. He had silently vowed never to return, but was forced to reconsider when the possibility of the Sith gaining control of the crystal at the heart of the Jedi temple became credible. The last time the crystal had been used, the Jedi Order had nearly been eradicated. He could not allow that to happen again... even if it meant his death.

A small Jedi strike team had come alongside him. It was composed of Jedi who knew the risks of what they had signed up for, but also what there was to be gained for the galaxy if they somehow won. A Sith Lord destroyed — the crystal safe. It was too big a prize to ignore. The Jedi needed a victory and the galaxy needed to be shown that the Sith Empire wasn't invulnerable, for all of its flashy weaponry and firepower.

As the gunship neared the site of the frozen temple, Wyck felt a familiar presence in the Force. His mind flashed back to Devaron, then to his trials in the Tythonian Jedi Temple. The old Jedi Master's eyes narrowed. The presence he felt was darker, colder even, than he remembered, but there was no doubt in his mind that the Sith Lord he was sensing was Leviticus. As he had predicted half-a-decade ago on Devaron, the Force had brought them back together again.

But, this time, Wyck sensed something else in the currents of the Force. Something distinctly final about this meeting. Was this the end of their connection to one another? Or was the Force trying to tell him something about the Sith Lord's future? ...or even his own? The Grand Master shook his mind of the thought as the ship, stumbling as it did, came to a shuttering halt. They had arrived and his mind needed to be rooted in the here-and-now. The cold, dead weight of his lightsaber found its way into his right hand.

With a note of finality, Wyck turned to his fellow Jedi, "Time, it is." @Deviant @Esther Nyx

 

[Sigal Adi Chume'da]

How Sigal despised this green gremlin like creature. This thing, this misshapen cur who was -supposedly- the Grand Master of the Jedi Order. Surely, it was some sort of joke, albeit one made in utterly poor taste. And yet, much to Sigal’s shock, it was no such thing. Indeed, this alien male was the Order’s appointed figurehead. A proverbial leader. Apparently, this assuming alien was a teacher of great vision and wisdom, one who's skills warranted the support and esteem of the council. Yet the violet eyed knight failed to share such admiration, especially when the stunted male barely reached the height of her knees. Then again, she had a little faith in the council’s guidance, almost as little respect. On numerous occasions, she had made an issue of herself; by no means was the Hapan a ideal Jedi. Reverently (and rather unapologetically) she clung to her people’s bigoted beliefs. Often these cultural clashes reared during missions and assignments, leading to conflicts with fellow Jedi. Indeed, the young knight would herself chastised and lectured, but never would she take the lessons to heart. She was a daughter of Hapes first, and a Jedi knight second. Exactly in that order and sequence.

When it came to missions, Sigal often sort solitary roles, as far away from Tython as possible. Perhaps that could explain the long-delayed assembly between knight and master. Truth be told, Sigal had never met the alien face to face; prior to this assignment, she hadn't intended on such a meeting either. But by coincidence, or perhaps the force itself, it seemed this was a fated encounter. Honestly, the Hapan wasn't quite sure what to make of Wyck; the miniature male didn't exactly cut an impressive profile, not by any means. Certainly, one would never find such a mockery on Hapes. There, only the beautiful held power. Only the women.

Ah...How she missed her homeworld. That perfect, elegant pearl of a planet. It had been nearly a decade since that fateful day; her departure from paradise. Not long after her eleventh birthday, as House Chume'da's youngest daughter, Sigal had her inheritance abruptly renounced. Following this, she was (unwillingly) encouraged to join the Jedi ranks; the mother was rather adamant on the matter, insistent even, claiming it was her duty and honour, seeing as there were so few Hapans counted amongst the Jedi ranks. She would be the pride of the people, an emissary for the entire race. So much for the greater good... The Jedi gained a knight, whilst her mother enjoyed the fame and prestige that went with it. In and amongst it all? Sigal felt robbed of her legacy.

But, never one to admit defeat, the blonde beauty strove to create a new one. One befitting her grandeur...

Wyck would have to watch himself. Like many of her kinwomen, Sigal had ambition. Unlike the other faceless Jedi present, the violet eyed vixen did not join the team for moral reasons, nor was she driven by noble intentions; she sought something far more selfish. Glory. Glory and retribution. Distasteful as she found admitting it, the Hapan had (regretfully) become acquainted with the fallen one; the one known as Leviticus. Over the years, the two of them had periodic run ins with one another, each time vying to take the other's life, often in the most spiteful of manners. Venomous barbs were often exchanged. In a macabre sort of way, it was almost endearing, now merely part of their fond formalities.

Yet this time...it would be different; somehow, just looking out at Ilum's encroaching surface, Sigal just knew this would be a gruelling experience. Still, she answered Wyck’s call to arms. This was not a fight she would negate, not this time.

However, Sigal remembered this planet well. Who could forget such an unforgiving wasteland, a world of perpetual ice and snow? Thundering tundra, blisteringly cold conditions, its barrenness knew no bounds. The first and only time Sigal stepped foot here was during her training; here she had retrieved her kyber crystal, the same one now housed in her very own saber. But it had been a rather taxing ordeal, one she'd rather not recall. Now was not the time to reminisce on the past, even if she wasn’t be the only one guilty of this. Unwilling to acknowledge the demons of her past, Sigal turned her attention elsewhere, barely acknowledging the Grand Master’s words.

They were landing and Wyck was readying to lead the vanguard. Oh joy...

With any luck, he’ll disappear beneath the snow, never to be seen again. Silently, Sigal couldn’t help but wondered, would his little body turn blue in the cold? She thought it would be amusing nonetheless to find out.

Spoiler: OOC

Sigal is bigoted against men and aliens...nothing personal...#sorrynotsorry

 

[Leviticus]

The transport ached as it settled onto the icy ground, as if the ship itself was left uneasy at its arrival, like its metal hull was being strangled by the fear and death that had long descended upon the temple. Even the Jedi would feel it. In the snow, as a white storm manifested out of thin air. In the silence, devoid of nothing but shrieks of the wind after Imperial forces left for Korriban. In the frozen earth, where each step forward was accompanied by the loudest crunch of snow, an echo that would inevitably warn whatever dark presence lurked around the temple grounds.

Not that the Sith Lord needed to be warned, not when everything leading up to this moment had been carefully planned and designed by his own hand. The surrounding storm, the overwhelming cloud of fear— it was his doing, and so would the death of these few Jedi who had so foolishly answered his call.

As Master Wyck and his company of Jedi Knights delved deeper into the temple ruins, torn open to the star-studded sky above, the blizzard would only intensify, crippling their vision. Little did they know that as they entered the courtyard, the powered kyber crystal would be sitting only two dozen meters ahead, so close yet so out of reach. Still, surely, it could be felt through the Force, each pulse emanating from the crystal like a beacon crying out for them. Wyck would no doubt be the first to notice, and of course, Leviticus knew he would be the first to pursue. And the second that crystal could be seen, that was when the Sith Lord made his presence known.

The snowstorm seemed to come to a standstill. An icy cloud circled the crystal before a terrible blaze erupted out of nowhere. From the inferno, a figure stepped forward, clothed in black armor and a thousand strands of fire. It was a full representation of the High Arcanist and his abilities, tailored together from years of study and his encounter with the Nightsisters of Dathomir.

The appearance amounted to nothing more than just that: an appearance. Almost worthless, completely vain, but not meaningless. Leviticus could have taken the opportunity to land a killing blow, hurled a fireball or unleashed the kyber crystal now behind him so as to destroy the Jedi below him in one masterful stroke. But no: he wanted this to last. First, he wanted to rip whatever hope they had out of their hands, then he would kill them. It was what they deserved. Taunting them with but a taste of his own power was only the start.

“Grandmaster Wyck.” His eyes, now apparent, fell onto the green alien, then onto the half dozen Jedi Knights behind him. “And company.” The fire around him dissipated, but the warmth and fear in the air remained. He continued forward, taking only two steps down a broken stairway. He opened his arms. “Welcome to our home.” The man, seething with madness and corruption, gestured to his lone self. “We— I've been expecting you.” He flashed a broken smile, which suddenly vanished as soon as he recognized another familiar face: Sigal Adi Chumed’a. He breathed in, disappointed. The Sith Lord was, for the first time in a long time, caught by surprise.

“You’re not supposed to be here.” He hissed before his face shifted, restrained by some invisible force. “That’s fine— it’s fine.” His voice then twisted and echoed, much like Mother Sycorax, as he added: “You will all die either way.” With two fingers, he carved into the air, and somehow, it opened. From the rift, Leviticus took hold a sword wreathed in green fire. “Let us begin.”

Spoiler: OoC

@Malon @Esther Nyx im so extra i love it.

 

[Wyck]

The Sith Lord's presence in the Force was nearly as cold as Ilum's wind. Watching him, Wyck could almost immediately deduce that Leviticus had been bathed in Dathomiri magicks. The Grand Master had never been to Dathomir personally, but he had read about the unique fashion in which the dark side of the Force manifested there. His opponent was displaying all of the right signs: madness, multiple personalities, bizarre abilities that most Force-users did not display. To think that such a power had fallen into the hands of the Sith...

Wyck raised the hilt of his own weapon and ignited it against the cold night of Ilum. He knew that he alone, of all the Jedi assembled here, possessed the power to defeat the Sith Lord in combat. Without him, the others would surely fall. But, with him, they possessed a unique advantage. A Sith Lord who used Dathomir magick was likely to have quite a few tricks up his sleeve. So the Grand Master would press the attack, leaving the remaining Jedi free to deal with any tricks Leviticus tried to conjure to throw them off.

Still, Wyck was a Jedi Master. He could not let an opponent, even one this dangerous, go to his death without offering him a way out. So, ever the ancient role model for the Order, Wyck leveled the point of his blade at Leviticus and said, "No more Jedi will you kill. Under arrest you are." For a moment, only the winds howled between them. Then, he added, "On Devaron, offered you a way out I did. Save yourself from this darkness! It isn't too late! Come with us, you can!"

It would be the only chance the Grand Master would offer. The Jedi behind him began to ignite their own lightsabers. After this, only the Force and the lightsaber could end this feud. @Deviant @Esther Nyx

 

[Leviticus]

Even in the face of death, despite knowing what Leviticus was, Wyck continued to reach out his hand, hoping to find something where there was nothing. Except, he was not wrong. In the reflection of the crystal behind him, there was a glint of light. The Sith Lord was twisted by the dark side, his blood black with corruption, but hope held out. A dying candle in the night, chewing on the end of a wick. Of course, deep down, the High Arcanist was not oblivious. He could still feel the light, much like poison, and he was determined to stamp it out. Leviticus would suffocate that flame with the ashes of the Grandmaster, and then, he could truly find satisfaction.

But not peace.

With the blade in his hand, now dim, he took another step forward. Rather than carry on down the stairwell to the Jedi waiting below, he instead vanished. Left in the space where he had stood, strands of smoke filled the air. Pinpointing where the Sith Lord had gone would only be a matter of sensing his presence, but when the whole temple was so full of darkness, they could never know. Even then, his voice reverberated from all sides, circling around them like predator to prey.

“It isn’t too late?” The voice mocked and echoed a hundred times, followed by maniacal laughter. “You’ve offered nothing, Jedi. Nothing but death and despair. There is no redemption here, no escape— for you or for me.” The wind was howling, but in the briefest instance, it paused. “This is the end for us both.”

Suddenly, as if out of the darkness itself, Leviticus surfaced from behind a broken pillar and delivered a foul swoop of his blade straight through one of the lesser Jedi. Before he could take on the Grandmaster or Sigal, the Sith Lord wanted to be rid of the other Jedi first. After, the real fun could begin.

@Malon @Esther Nyx

 

[Wyck]

As the Sith Lord began to fade from sight, Wyck closed his eyes and became subsumed in the currents of the Force. Leviticus's anger and pain were like a beacon, which were easily traceable even when he wasn't visible to the naked eye. Nevertheless, the Sith Lord was fast, and Wyck had only just deduced his intent when Leviticus struck. The Grand Master's eyes snapped open and he belted out a warning, "Look out!"

But it was too late. A flash of red—like lightning through a dark sky—streaked through the night and carved through one of the members of the Jedi Master's strike team. Seeing their companion die so horrifically moved the other Jedi to action. Flashes of blue and green joined the crimson as the remaining three Jedi converged on the Sith Lord. One aimed high for Leviticus's shoulder; another crouched and swept at the Sith Lord's knees; and the final Jedi Knight stabbed forward at Leviticus's chest.

The strike team had the numbers, but Wyck did not need future sight to see that they were horribly outmatched. Leviticus had come a long way since the Grand Master had last seen him on Devaron. His mastery of the dark side was equal to Wyck's master of the light. Common Jedi Knights had no hope of matching a Force-user of that level, even in numbers.

Not one to sit and watch his comrades be cut down, Wyck called the Force to him and launched himself in the direction the Sith Lord had teleported. With the Grand Master on their side, perhaps they would stand a chance. But only time would tell whether or not Wyck would make it in time to save his fellows or not. @Deviant @Esther Nyx

 

[Leviticus]

Leviticus watched on with mad euphoria as his blade cleaved through the first Jedi Knight. They could hardly fathom what was coming before it even came. There was that look of shock and horror, then replaced by expressionless death. The other Jedi Knights, to both his surprise and amusement, were not so stricken with fear, and descended upon him an instant later. Although their strength was found in their numbers, his was in the dark side of the Force and the ichor of Dathomir. None of them stood a chance, regardless of the Grandmaster’s intervention. All of them were dead the second their feet pressed into this frozen hell.

Smile twisted and maniacal laughter seething through, the Sith Lord swept his free hand across the air. Fingers outstretched to Master Wyck as he hoped to save his comrades, the Force reached out and aimed to smack him aside. At least, stall him long enough for Leviticus to chew out the fodder in front of him. A feat that required nothing more than the skill of his blade and another plunge into the dark side. As tempted as the High Arcanist was to work his magick against the three Knights, whether as a shockwave of lightning or a whirlpool of fire, he was determined to savor the moment. Instead, he turned to a move he had not used since his earliest days as an Exile: force rage.

Pooling his own rage and hysteria together, Leviticus screamed and laughed as their blades came inches from their individual marks. Two steps back but both hands forward, he defended and attacked with a speed and ferocity that neither Wyck nor any man had ever seen. Not because he never used it, but because those who had seen it never emerged from it alive, and neither would the three set against him.

In the blink of an eye, he backpedaled from the knee swipe, flourished away from the shoulder strike and parried the blow to his chest. Another blink later, he drove his fiery sword toward the Jedi’s stomach. If or once the blade slipped into his insides, Leviticus would soak in the inevitable fear and death, savoring that split second. When he moved onto the next Knight, his blade would only slide out from the first one’s abdomen like knife through hot butter. With his nonstop attack angled up, he aimed to hew that second Jedi from below his heart on the left and exit from his shoulder on the right.

As for the third Knight, the one who tried striking his own shoulder, his free hand would, without warning, slip under the edge and seize the handle. His fingers wrapped over theirs, he would crush them with overwhelming strength. Then, with his lightsaber still raised high as it would leave the second Jedi’s shoulder, he would crash down onto his fourth victim. Once Leviticus stepped back, all three bodies would hit the ground simultaneously, gone in so short a time. What more did the Order expect?

Breathing hard, he fell further into his own hysteria. The Sith Lord realized the move would cost him another slice of his mentality, but why did he care when there was already so little left?

“Finally, a little privacy. Wouldn’t you agree, Grandmaster Wyck?” He mocked as he would face the tiny alien, sword at the ready, once they recuperated or had inevitably reached him. As for Sigal, Leviticus chose to save the best for last. Since the other Knights were dispatched so quickly and she had not so much as moved an inch, he no longer saw her as a threat. She was fodder like the rest of them, and after he was done with the final course, Master Wyck, then she would be dessert.

@Malon @Esther Nyx

 

[Wyck]

There was a moment — a brief pause in the action — in which Wyck could feel the deaths of his comrades as a painfully dark jab through the Force. But the moment was fleeting and Wyck's patience was finally gone—a feeling he managed to sum up in two short statements in reply to the Sith Lord. "At an end your killing spree is. And not short enough it was."

Wyck was a blur. The Force gave him the speed and ferocity that no being his age should possess. At once, he was upon Leviticus. Hurdling through the air like a spinning disk of death, sparks flew as spears of amethyst and crimson met, showering sparks across the snowy steps of the temple. Later, Wyck would doubt that Sigal would even have been able to see them move. The Grand Master and the Sith Lord were two masters of the opposite sides of the Force and of the lightsaber. Their speed was unrivaled. Unmatched.

As Ilum's blizzards raged around them, the hums of their lightsaber could be heard echoing through the ravines. Any onlooker would be able to see the contrasting blade colors meeting again-and-again. But Wyck would appear as a buzzsaw, spinning wildly in an almost dancelike rhythm, while Leviticus would look like a shadowy blur as both Masters of the Force sought to force an opening in the other. But Wyck had a greater purpose to this duel. He brought out all of his ferocity to this portion of the duel in the hopes of pushing Leviticus back into the temple itself.

There, the tiny Jedi Master hoped to make use of the giant stalagmites of ice, crystal chandeliers, and narrow spaces to gain the upper hand. Of course, the Sith Lord could use the terrain to his own advantage too; but that was a risk Wyck was going to have to take. Fighting Leviticus in an open space was a death trap—Wyck knew that from experience. And so the Grand Master pushed harder and harder, attempting to draw their duel into the ancient cathedral of the Jedi, which would soon serve as one of their icy tombs... @Deviant

 

[Leviticus]

The temple was ruined, wasted from the tragedy a decade ago and worn from years of bitter cold. Spires of frozen stone dangled from what remained of the ceiling and pools of ice draped the floor. As the Jedi and Sith moved out from the courtyard and into the cathedral, their clash echoed throughout the halls. The blade Leviticus summoned from the void screamed and hissed against Wyck’s lightsaber, its amethyst color cracking against every blow. Although both developed well and far in the years apart, the pair were still evenly matched. Enough to leave Leviticus on edge.

The Grandmaster gained ground but the Sith Lord gave the Jedi no hope of a quick victory. A swipe to his legs was met with a backpedal. A flip and strike over his shoulder was smacked aside with a parry. Still, the man’s temper was unhinged. The tiny alien was relentless and gave him little opportunity to retaliate. Every blow he made was followed by two from Wyck. Knowing he wouldn’t be able to maintain his defense forever, Leviticus looked for a way out. Not from the temple— no, he would make certain this was the Grandmaster’s final resting place. A fitting end for what the Jedi Order had caused here. Instead, his eyes were set above and on a hundred chandeliers of ice.

In the middle of another block, the High Arcanist tore his hand through the air. An invisible force twisted up and split the stalagmites from the rooftop. Right away, blades of ice rained down into the space between them, far enough for Leviticus to narrowly dodge and close enough to puncture Wyck if he didn’t. Whether the stalagmites landed or not ultimately did not matter, however. What he wanted was a chance to distract the Jedi and follow through with a killing blow, but not with his blade. Now, he understood he could never overwhelm the Grandmaster by sheer melee skill. His knowledge of the dark side and Dathomir magick, on the other hand, was something else.

His hand snapped back and the sword in its grip suddenly evaporated into ash. However, as it and the other hand careened forward, a burst of lightning had taken its place. Green and terrible, the strike winded through the rain of icicles. Bouncing between some, melting straight into others. In the end, the fiery lightning aimed to kill Wyck in a single, brilliant masterstroke of the dark side.

Needless to say, the force had other plans for the pair.

@Malon

 

[Wyck]

Wyck had the oddest since of deja vu. The battle was beginning to mirror their first five years ago on Devaron. Once again, Leviticus tore away the ceiling with the Force and Wyck, having seen this move before, at once disengaged and skidded backwards to avoid the falling stalagmites. Sensing a shift in the battle, Wyck extinguished his own blade and hung it on his belt just in time for the Sith Lord to fire his arcane lightning.

Throwing out his right hand, Wyck crafted a translucent Force barrier that not only protected him from the rain of ice above, but also parted the lightning barrage safely around him—proving that he was every bit as skilled in the Force as Leviticus. But he had one final trick up his sleeve. With his left hand, Wyck made another motion and sent the Force into the ground at Leviticus's feet. He too needed a distraction to throw the Sith Lord off. Using the Force, he cracked the ice at Leviticus's feet. It didn't take much. Soon the ground was splintering and giving way. Unless the Sith Lord corrected his footing, he would be spilled into an antechamber behind and below him.

But Wyck would not stop there. There was no longer a place for mercy in this fight. This was now a battle to see which Force-user could bury the other before it was too late. And Wyck intended to do just that. He continued to pour the Force into the surrounding walls and ground, bring large chunks of ice down on Leviticus. The intent was an ice avalanche that would bury the Sith Lord alive. Of course, it also destabilized the temple's structure, which was equally dangerous for him; but Wyck was focused only on ending the Sith Lord's life as quickly as possible.

If he allowed things to drag out too long, he knew he would become exhausted. Leviticus may have been alive for a much shorter span of time than Wyck, but the Sith Lord was younger and had more stamina. That made him dangerous in prolonged combat. He could only hope that his efforts were successful. If Leviticus survived this attempt, then this battle was about to intensify even more... and Wyck wasn't sure he could hold off the Sith Lord's newfound magical skills for long. @Deviant

 

[Leviticus]

Leviticus watched with disappointment as Wyck emerged unscathed from the lightning, which was nothing more than water against the rock. Frail as the Grandmaster was, he was as skilled a defender as he was an attacker. Against the likes of the High Arcanist, be that as it may, he couldn’t last long. Even if his strike team were still alive, even if Sigal unexpectedly dove back into the fight, Leviticus believed Wyck could not win. The dark side of the Force, the ichor of Dathomir and the untapped power of the kyber crystal in their combined strength could decimate the Order alone. What more harm could a tiny, green alien do? To his surprise, a lot.

The floor reverberated with the Force. Immediately, he knew what was happening. The ground shuddered, ice cracked, and in a matter of moments he would plummet what laid beneath. To avoid falling into that trap, all he needed to do was step to the side. The attack was narrow, and for a Sith Lord, inconsequential and insignificant. The real problem was the vibrations in the walls, pillars, the roof. By the age of the temple, Wyck seemed intent on burying them both. No matter, his concern lied with his own survival. Yet, rather than move aside, he looked to the bigger picture, closed his eyes, and accepted what was coming.

The columns ached, gave way and crashed into the floor. Somehow, the rooftop remained intact and the walls stood firm, but the falling debris was destined to bury the Sith alive. That was, if he was alive by the time he hit the ground in the antechamber below. A chance that looked unlikely as he plummeted down, followed by chunks of ice and shattered pillars. Dust would rise, the temple would fall back into silence, and Leviticus’ presence would fade. To any who witnessed, he was as sure as dead. To any who truly realized what he planned, however, would know what was about to happen next. And the only one could know was the man himself.

After the brief quiet settled onto the temple, when everything felt at peace and when Wyck’s guard weakened, that was when the air would turn cold once more. By the time the Jedi might have connected the dots, the dark side would have already connected to him. Leviticus, enveloped in a sphere of green, would sail from the rubble and the antechamber. Cut and bruised but still breathing and still stronger than ever. With his hand extended, he would take the Grandmaster by the neck. A force strong enough that resisting would be near impossible, but not enough to break him instantly. Leviticus wanted him to feel every ounce of pain, slowly and carefully. And finally, then he could die.

His voice echoed in layers, his eyes burned. “Did you seriously believe you could win?” The Sith Lord would look at him directly and tighten his grip. He was pouring everything into his move. The fact he hadn’t died yet of exhaustion was a miracle, but he persisted, and hovered to him. “You lost as soon as you answered my call.”

@Malon

 

[Wyck]

Wyck was both impressed and horrified by the Sith Lord's strength with the dark side of the Force. The Exiles did not have this much power. No dark side users in the annals of Jedi history had ever wielded such power. The Sith Lord was like a bottomless pit of everlasting darkness—a wound in the Force. But no matter how dark Leviticus had come, Wyck could not allow him to win. The Sith could never be allowed to harness the giant kyber crystal here and the terrible power within it. The Grand Master would die to ensure it didn't happen.

And die he almost did. For the briefest moment, the Sith Lord's crushing grip overcame Wyck's old and tired body. The lack of oxygen nearly robbed the little green gnome of his consciousness. And in the momentary lapse of awareness, Wyck hallucinated a sea of bodies as far as the eye could see. In this single, terrifying moment, he stood amidst a mound of bodies which he knew to represent the victims of the Sith—past, present, and future. He knew his vision was the future of the galaxy if he did not win here. So, with sheer force of will, and the power of the Force on his side, Wyck used the Jedi breathing techniques he had been taught for so long to conserve what little oxygen he had and forced himself back to consciousness.

Still within the Sith Lord's grip, but having spotted an avenue of escape, Wyck rasped defiantly, "Faith in your new abilities, misplaced may be." He hand spasmed. The Force spasmed with it. One of the final stalagmites still attached to the ceiling of the icy temple—which was conveniently located above where the Sith Lord now stood—began to crack. "As is your faith in the dark side of the Force."

With a last bit of effort, Wyck used the Force to free the spear of ice and send it hurdling down towards Leviticus. The spear would hopefully be enough to force the Sith Lord to relinquish his invisible hold. Wyck would use that moment to skid backward and regain his breath. His entire body screamed in protest with each movement and each labored breath. He was sweating; his body was trembling; but he faced Leviticus standing up, hands cupped at his side. It was to that space between his green hands that he called the Force. The Grand Master would need a moment or two to gather the necessary power for his final attack—a moment or two he knew Leviticus would not grant him—yet he had to try anyways.

So, he did the only thing he knew to do in situations such as this one: he attempted a distraction. "Believe? Heh. A Jedi needs not belief." He managed a tired smirk. "I will win because I must win. Because, unlike you, not fighting for myself am I. But for others. Those you have killed. Those you have not killed, but might. For them, do I fight. And because of that, you will never win." @Deviant

 

[Leviticus]

Wyck was so frail, so weak, in his iron grip. The Sith Lord was inches away from snapping his neck in two, from crushing his esophagus, from ending the Jedi Grandmaster. As much as he wanted to squeeze, he instead held back. Leviticus wanted his enemy to suffer every second. He wanted to see his eyes glaze over. He wanted to see if his wrinkled green face would turn another shade or another color as he rasped his final breath. Still, Wyck was defiant even to the end. His spiteful taunts was only fuel to the fire, and moments later, the Sith resolved to kill him now. Fingers outstretched, he closed into a fist. Then, the stalagmite came.

At the last instant, Leviticus caught the rock out of the corner of his eye. On instinct alone, his body stumbled away, even if his mind urged him to stay. Because the second his focus darted elsewhere and he loosened his grip, Wyck would slip through his fingers. And indeed, he did. While he narrowly dodged the wedge of ice, the distraction was more than enough to free his enemy, who scrambled back to recover. The High Arcanist was no different as he steadied his footing and gathered the last of his energy for one more blow. An attack that grew more potent every moment Wyck chose to stall. As strong as the Jedi was and as much as he believed, he was going nowhere.

“Your belief is meaningless. Trust or faith is no equal to truth or fact. And the fact is, you’re going to die.” His arm snapped back, fingers twitched and a fiery green sparked between them. “And so will the Jedi for what they’ve done here and to—“ Something else caught his eye. A glint of light behind Master Wyck. A figure formed from the starlit sky as it sank through the icy haze. As they came closer, he stepped back, unsure. For the first time since he left the Order, he was truly stunned. A cloud of fear, curiosity and a hundred other emotions descended onto him in an instant. The figure whispered, their voice all too familiar. “Leon.”

Rosy cheeks, warm eyes, hair draped over ivory shoulders. A smile like the dawn as it immediately pierced through the fog of hysteria around him. Liliana was a specter, her spirit like a feather as she drifted toward him. Levi couldn’t believe his eyes. Years ago, she had died on these very grounds, chest torn open and hair mingled in the rubble. How could she still be here? It was a question anyone would ask, but Levi was blindsided, mindless. In a blink, every dark thought that possessed him had suddenly evaporated. All his rage and strength: gone.

His heart ached. Then, his mind. The thoughts were coming back now, and with a sharp breath, his eyes fell back to Wyck. That was when the final blow was struck.

@Malon

 

[Wyck]

Wyck saw the opening. It was a moment that was surely divined byt he Force itself; that was the only way he could explain why the Sith Lord suddenly paused as though dazed. But Wyck did not have time to question why it was happening, only that it was. Thrusting his cupped hands forward, he loosed every last bit of power he had in a withering blast of Force light. As the blast of light consumed the shadows in its path on its way to Leviticus, Wyck could not help take notice of what happened to the Force around him. It was odd, but, it was if, for a single moment of purity, the Sith Lord stopped being "Leviticus" and became "Leon" again. The moment was as curious as it was fleeting, because, by the time the blast struck the Sith Lord, the darkness had returned and all traces of whom he once was had gone with it.

The ensuing explosion of light also had an effect on the Force. As it struck Leviticus, it filled up the chamber he stood in, funneling upwards towards the giant crystal that hung above them. And as the crystal took in the light, it too showered rays of light down on the temple below. In the Force, Wyck felt the dark cloud that had hung over Ilum for the past five years begin to dissipate. The wound that had once been gaping here had begun to seal. But the attack had left him far too weak and, a moment later, he collapsed to his old knees—his senses had stretched beyond their limits and, for a moment, were as blurry as his vision as fatigue began to take its hold.

In this delirious state, as everything was consumed by light, the Grand Master almost thought he heard the innocent laughter of a girl as the last ounce of darkness in the Force began to dissipate. His tired mind did not know who it could be, so he allowed himself to believe it was some memory of Imani, not knowing the laughter he had heard belonged to another, welcoming one she loved into the Force's embrace. So, panting and clearly at his physical limits, Wyck knelt, shivering in the cold, whipping winds, and waited for the light to clear. Then, and only then, would he know the truth of what had happened to Leviticus... @Deviant

 

[Leviticus]

Pain.

An unbearable pain. Light burst forth and sank into his pale, sickly skin. The Sith Lord felt as if he was on fire, much like his duel on Prakith, but this was different. His skin was not all that burned. Blood boiled, bones smoldered and his yellowed eyes turned white, dazzled and blinded. Except, he was not on fire. Through the pain, Leviticus realized what was happening, and recognized this was his end. Every ounce of the dark side was consumed. The shadows nailed to his heart melted away and whatever dark thoughts fixed to his mind were uprooted. Leviticus, the Sith Lord and High Arcanist to the Empire, was dead, and his infernal spirit wiped from the Force.

Theme.​

Cold.

A new, familiar feeling. It brushed his fingers, crawled down his spine, embraced him with welcoming arms. He blinked as snow fell and frost kissed his skin. Everything had lost color: the blood in his cheeks, yellow in his eyes and the black that hanged below them. He was deathly pale and barely breathing. The blow stripped him of the dark side, which had long consumed his blood, mind and body— but not his soul. Leviticus was gone, but Leon remained. The cold, passing spirit of the former Jedi Knight, who despite years of corruption, miraculously endured. Even in his lowest point of darkness, there was still good in him. A small candlewick of light. Light now free.

Warmth.

The warmth in her fingers, her breath, her smile. As the final strings of life left his body, it found Liliana. She was as perfect as the day they first met. Rosy hair and lips resting in a smile. Her hand squeezed his own. Her eyes locked with his own. They were one again. It was more than anything Leon ever dreamed. Since losing her, he had become so consumed with vengeance that he lost the way, he forgot what Liliana would have wanted. He wasted the remainder of his life, but what happened then didn’t matter anymore. He found what he was looking for. He found the Force, and the peace and purpose that came with it.

His body was limp against the staircase, but his spirit was lifted. He had taken Liliana’s outstretched hand and followed her into the light. Behind him, Wyck would only see the lifeless man, his lips relaxed into a smile, snowflakes settled on his skin, melting into the trail of a tear down the side of his face. So, he would become a footnote in galactic history. An old, meaningless legend of another terrible Sith who came close to destroying the galaxy. But what Wyck might see was something else. Something more. Something real.

Peace.

He was back in the fields outside the temple, uprooted grass and colorful flowers sprawled around them. The lake ahead glittered under the setting sun. A trace of laughter escaped from Liliana as she turned to him and reached for his hand again. “What took you so long?” Leon chuckled, brushing off the question, and weaved his fingers with hers. “I love you.” She grinned. “I know.”

Spoiler: OoC

@Malon I'm so extra but Leon deserves it. rip

 

[Wyck]

As Leviticus faded away forever, all of the dark side energy that ruled his life was obliterated within the final burst of Wyck's light. But it was what was expelled after that Wyck did not expected. A rush of green energy exploded from the former Sith Lord's body and erupted upward, blowing off the top of the temple's ceiling and escaping into the night. Exhausted and on his knees, Wyck could only cover his face from the frigid wind coming off of the explosion.

The Grand Master knew almost immediately what it was. This was Dathomiri magick. When the witches of Dathomir died, the ichor that gave them power escaped their bodies and returned back to the Force from whence it came. As the Sith Lord died, the power he stole from Dathomir left him once and for all and returned to where it had originated. A cruel witch's laugh escaped from somewhere within the emerald flames, but it was gone almost as soon as it had appeared, leaving behind it only a linger chill of darkness and... something more.

Leviticus's body was gone, as was the darkness that had consumed him; and, somewhere beyond the veil to the Netherworld of the Force, Wyck felt a lighter presence. He felt Leon. The Jedi Master was tired and nearly frozen to death, but the old Jedi managed a soft smile as the sensation of Leon's presence faded away and became one with the Force—at peace at long last.

"You are one with the Force now," Wyck muttered quietly as silence again took the interior of the temple. "And the Force is with me. So, to the end we will go..." He thought of Andraste. "...together. And, after that, perhaps we will see each other again on better terms."

Wyck knew what he needed to do. The end was coming. It was time to gather the Order for one last mission. And then he could rest forevermore...

The End​