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"And despite mentioning Darth Exodeus, the now-former Emperor, by name," the HoloNet news reporter said, "no indication was made by Emperor Lightell as to the whereabouts of Andraste, the now-former Empress and the wife of Darth Exodeus. Galactic Alliance intelligence officials have not found any evidence about where she may now be, if she is even still alive."
Jhon switched off the holo-screen, ending the noise he had to hear from the media about the recent announcement that Tyrn Lightell had become Emperor of the New Sith Imperium. That name, he knew that name, though he couldn’t remember why. It was something from long ago, something he’d tried to forget...and it seemed that he had succeeded. But Emperor Lightell was by no means who he was thinking about the most.
He’d been flipping from news station to news station for the last several hours, trying to find out just what had happened to his old Padawan, but he found nothing. They knew nothing; not the Jedi, not the Alliance, and maybe not even the Empire. If the Empire did know something, its new leader clearly did not care to mention it. He clearly did not care to mention the twisted child that was once the Padawan of Jhon Cordatus, the very same Jhon Cordatus the Sith were now destroying the legacy of with an impostor. They were monsters, all of them.
The old Jedi Master slumped back into the couch of Skhai’s Coruscant penthouse, where he had been hiding for a number of weeks. No one knew he was there, save for Skhai and her Padawan, but he never failed to be cautious or to always remain on guard. Except for right now. He was far too focused on his failings to be concerned with his safety.
For now he just sat there, wallowing in misery.
Jhon switched off the holo-screen, ending the noise he had to hear from the media about the recent announcement that Tyrn Lightell had become Emperor of the New Sith Imperium. That name, he knew that name, though he couldn’t remember why. It was something from long ago, something he’d tried to forget...and it seemed that he had succeeded. But Emperor Lightell was by no means who he was thinking about the most.
He’d been flipping from news station to news station for the last several hours, trying to find out just what had happened to his old Padawan, but he found nothing. They knew nothing; not the Jedi, not the Alliance, and maybe not even the Empire. If the Empire did know something, its new leader clearly did not care to mention it. He clearly did not care to mention the twisted child that was once the Padawan of Jhon Cordatus, the very same Jhon Cordatus the Sith were now destroying the legacy of with an impostor. They were monsters, all of them.
The old Jedi Master slumped back into the couch of Skhai’s Coruscant penthouse, where he had been hiding for a number of weeks. No one knew he was there, save for Skhai and her Padawan, but he never failed to be cautious or to always remain on guard. Except for right now. He was far too focused on his failings to be concerned with his safety.
For now he just sat there, wallowing in misery.
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