Chapter 36
“Ma’am, we are approaching Korriban. Exiting Hyperspace in approximately five minutes.” Anhiel looks towards the helmsman that addressed her and nods gently before adding, “Very good. Prepare the shuttle for departure, I will meet them momentarily with Darth Vyrrid’s body.” The middle aged Sith sets to his tasks immediately, opening a comlink to the hangar. The Grandmaster looks forward out of the viewport of the Terminus class destroyer. She wears an outfit of a Sith nature, fashioned as rapidly as possible by a pair of red skinned twi'lek females who handle Vyrrid’s wardrobe for the better part of the last decade. It was made from the most exquisite materials the fleet had available and the finished product exuded power, confidence, superiority, and beauty in all the ways the Sith valued. The base layer was tight, made out of supple black leather that accentuated her frame in vivid detail. Where curves were expected, such as the chest, butt and thighs, golden accents curve around the features elegantly accenting them. Over this she wears an equally black robe fashioned from a light material, with a bit of a sheen when light contacts the surface at the right angle. Its cut is shallow, save for the hood, only just covering her shoulders and her sides allowing the spectacle beneath to be observed clearly, as well as the dual saber hilts at her hip. Within the hood, her usually sharp eyes now sport a deep, voracious yellow color, a result of her cultivating the darkside within her on their journey. The stars begin to stretch before they and the planet snap into place. She turns, beginning to make her way to the exit of the bridge when the communications officer nearby calls out as she continues to walk, “Ma’am, message from the Shadow Redeemer. They have arrived at base with the remainder of the fleet.” Anhiel smiles within her hood, remembering Athin’s face when she requested he take the Redeemer back to Zonama with the rest of the newly acquired Sith fleet. But faced with her reasoning, he could not resist but he did not go without making a request. As Anhiel stepped through the door from the bridge, Mirr straightened, geared in his usual armor and fell into step just behind her and to the right. He holds his rifle across his chest, on his hip sits the dark saber handle gifted to him by the woman he now guarded. Anhiel chuckles to herself at the protectiveness Athin felt over her, insisting Mirr remain as her guard when she was fully capable of defending herself. But the thought brought warmth to her like she had not felt since Dulci.
The duo navigates the corridors of the newly acquired vessel in silence, save for the the reassuring thud of Mirr’s armored steps and the Admiral’s softer than usual footsteps due to the unusually light outfit she wore. A pair of maintenance personnel snap to attention as Anhiel strides by, turning away from the panel they were examining. A slight incline of Anhiel’s hooded head is given in response and the pair return to their task. They step into the large hangar to find various groups of pilots, support personnel, and droids moving about their various tasks. On the far end is an imperial assault shuttle, prepared to take them to the surface, which they head for directly. As they arrive at the base of the ramp, a long rectangular hovering crate arrives, containing the body of Darth Vyrrid and Anhiel queries the somewhat greying man before them, “Are we ready to depart, Commander?” The shuttle Commander looks over a datapad, either not hearing Anhiel’s question or unconcerned with it, causing the woman to stand quietly with her hands folded behind her back beneath the dark robes. Her patience thins as the seconds pass without a response until he finally looks up with the look of someone being greatly inconvenienced. He appraises the woman then only nods slightly before turning and heading up the ramp. Anhiel waves the pair with the casket to board then exhales deeply. Mirr steps in front of her, adjusting his weapon while asking “Ma’am, I do not expect that you intend to let such behavior slide. Nor will I allow it. May I bring him out and educate him?” Her face remains mostly neutral, yellow irises swirling almost unnaturally as she simply states, “Patience, Ori’vod. I trust you are able to pilot this vessel?” Perplexed by the question, Mirr responds, “Of course, Ma’am.” Anhiel’s lips move ever so slightly into a smirk before she moves past the Mandalorian, “I suspect our current pilot will not be capable of returning us after our trip is complete.” Mirr grins within his helmet and moves to follow the woman up the ramp. A handful of minutes later, the ramp closes and the shuttle begins to lift off from the deck. As it exits the hangar, a pair of fighters form up on either side to escort the shuttle to the nearby planet.
The trio of vessels descend towards the spaceport at Dreshdae, the fighters peeling away just before entering the atmosphere to return to the capital ship. The shuttle continued to the surface and clearance was provided under Darth Vyrrid’s name. Despite his death, Anhiel wished for his final return to be documented, his final journey, final orders. Several soldiers gather by the ramp as it opens with a hiss and immediately begin to descend, escorting the floating casket as they move to stand a few meters away in formation. Over a minute passes without Anhiel exiting the vessel, bringing quizzical looks to the squad’s faces as a middle aged female spaceport representative moves towards the vessel, accompanied by a very large, bald man in flowing black robes. The middle aged woman asks the nearest soldier in a hard voice, “Who is the commander of this ship?” No one responds, waiting for Anhiel’s arrival which prompts the large man to add in an overly confident tone, “Surely Vyrrid knows better than to show his face here again. The coward…” The remainder of the statement is cut short as a loud bang reverberates through the landing area. Its source was the torso of the shuttle commander contacting the top of the ramp opening, his body having been thrown violently towards the entrance. He lands on the ground flat on his back, knocking all of the air from his lungs. Descending the ramp is Anhiel with a similar look the pilot gave her not long ago, one of someone being forced to interact with a being not worth their time. Before he can recover, the pilot’s body begins to rise from the ground and straighten in the air which is followed by a guttural groan before turning into a continuous scream. Anhiel’s right hand is held out somewhat, her gloved fingers beginning to curl in slightly, not yet making a fist. The result brings pressure on the whole of the man’s body and continually increases until several cracks can be heard, the smaller bones of the body such as the hands and feet shattering. With a minor movement of her hand, the pilot’s body is allowed to fall to the ground in a heap where he groans in pain.
Anhiel strides past the injured man, not giving so much as a look in his direction and simply commands the nearest two soldiers, “Secure that. The rest of you, move out.” The soldiers comply with their orders, the first two moving to pick up the broken commander and hefting him onto the shuttle where they simply drop him into a seat. No restraints were required as a result of his several injuries and they took their places at the entrance, holding their weapons at the ready. Outside the ship, the remaining soldiers begin to move with the hovering casket while Anhiel and Mirr follow. The Grandmaster ignores the spaceport representative and the unknown dark Jedi as she strides by with a confidence that was not misplaced, communicating to any onlooker that she belonged. Offended, the large man reaches out to place a hand on Anhiel’s shoulder to halt her and adds with a mocking tone, “Where do you think you are going? Where is that cowa….” The hiss of an igniting saber halts his words just before the purple blade cuts through the whole of his right forearm, bringing the man to his knees as he clutches at the stump. Furious, he moves to speak once more but before the words could form, he was put flat on the ground by a kick that connected with the left side of his head. The speed with which it came and where it connected, just at the base of the neck, rendered the dark Jedi unconscious instantly. Nearby, Mirr only watched quietly then turned his gaze towards the spaceport representative who cowered and quickly exited the area.
No other incidents arose as the group marched through the spaceport and began to follow a rough path towards four large stone, temple-like structures. Mirr queries as they walk, his eyes scanning the outcroppings above them for threats “Ma’am, what is this place?” Anhiel thinks for a moment, pulling up what memories she had of the place before responding in a mild tone, “It is commonly referred to as the Valley of the Dark Lords but its true name is the Valley of the Sleeping Kings. Several ancient and powerful Sith Lords are buried in this valley.” Mirr processes the information when he notes a small rock that begins to fall down the hill to their right. Anhiel states plainly before he could say anything, “They will not engage us here. Many Sith love to label others as cowards, yet most won’t move on their prey unless victory is all but guaranteed.” At that moment, a familiar sensation pressed just on the edge of her senses and she smiled within her hood, thinking to herself “I wonder how I look to him now.” It takes nearly an hour for the group to weave their way through the narrow corridor that eventually puts them at the end of the area with the large tombs. Their path continues forward but as they move across the valley, both Mirr and Anhiel cast long gazes at the large worn structures. Closing her eyes, the Grandmaster takes in a long, slow and deep breath, holding it for many moments before releasing it. “Even after all this time there is great power here. Much of it is still distorted by Sith practices but even then it is…invigorating.” The Mandalorian looks towards the woman, “Is this where you intend to bury him?” The shake of her head is not seen within the hood and she replies, “No, even after all that has happened here, this valley attracts too much traffic. There is a place just beyond where he often visited. No one should bother his final resting place there.” Intrigued by the amount of knowledge the Admiral possessed on the area and the late Darth’s habits, Mirr asks a followup question “How do you know of this place?”
While she maintains her pace, the Grandmaster’s steps become different, as though they suddenly became weighted. She sighs deeply and answers with a somber tone, “I had several interactions with Vyrrid during the war. A few occurred here, he brought me in secret to discuss potential peaceful options. Unfortunately, neither of us commanded the necessary amount of power with our respective sides to change the course of the war.” Surprised by the answer, Mirr asks again, “Why would he choose you, specifically?” The delay in response unsettled the Mandalorian, making him regret the question when she answered, “Perhaps because he knew I would listen with an open and rational mind despite my young age at the time. But he also wished to court me. Which of those was the primary reason I am still not sure about. However, I was already bound to Dulci and unable to reciprocate his feelings, no matter how I felt about him.” Mirr nods and clears his throat, electing to not ask further questions and a few minutes later they pass through an opening onto a cliffside that overlooks a deep canyon. Up and to the left a couple hundred meters is another cliff with a large recess carved into it. The ceiling of rock is smooth and gives the impression of a large atrium of stone. Unseen from the current vantage point is a durasteel door situated at the far back, a single panel on the right. Anhiel points towards the feature and states plainly, “Up there is where we shall lay him to rest. It is single file the rest of the way. Watch your footing.”
It takes another twenty minutes for the party to navigate their way up to their final destination across a narrow pathway carved into the cliffside. Once arriving, Mirr immediately begins to walk around the area, scanning outwards from the elevated vantage point. Behind him, Anhiel walks to the door at the back and looks at the console for several moments before removing her right glove. Once her hand was exposed, she placed it flat against a blue panel with a grid pattern covering it. A scan initiated and another moment later the door slid open. As she replaced the glove Mirr came to stand next to the woman and merely turned his head in her direction, eliciting a response “It would appear he never removed my access.” With a wave, Anhiel commands the group to follow and passes through the doorway into a metal structure embedded into the cliffside. They immediately descend down a straight stairway which takes them deeper into the cliff until they arrive at a large circular room with three evenly spaced doorways set just on the other side of the midline of the room. There are several holograms on the edge, displaying images that cycle every fifteen seconds. The images consist of weapons, ships, art, and the common thread was an aspect of luxury. In the center of the room is a stone slab that stands at waist height and is just longer and wider than the floating coffin. On top sits a pile of broken rock, the remnants of a statue Anhiel could not quite remember, save for a flash of memory which showed red and purple sabers clashing brilliantly. A particularly wide parry sent the dual bladed red saber flying, severing one of the main supports. It begins to crumble, falling between the two combatants preventing the finishing strike from coming. In the present, she steps towards the center feature and with a slow wave of her hand pushes the remaining rocks from the surface of the stone base, allowing it to fall on the larger pieces that had come to rest on the floor years ago. She continues past it towards the center door on the other side of the room as she commands, “Place the casket upon there. I shall be back in a moment.” The soldiers comply with the command and carefully move the casket into position, ensuring it is centered precisely before allowing it to rest.
The door slides open without input, allowing Anhiel to now stand in what appears to be personal quarters. Dust covers all visible surfaces, a result of lying undisturbed for many years. A table, desk and bed are arranged in the relatively small room. To the left of the metal desk is a shelf of the same material with five levels. The lower shelves sport books with dark bindings and the upper shelves have the same. Anhiel peruses the room for several minutes before she comes to a stop in front of the shelf. On the center level rests a small holo projector, which she reaches out for and keys on upon picking it up. It whirrs to life and projects a very familiar visage with its bright blue light. The image of a woman just over a decade younger than Anhiel appears. Bright silver and white hair pulled back in a tight ponytail, fierce eyes, and a determined expression presents to the onlooker. Recognizing her own image, the Grandmaster softens her own features as she looks at the image before turning it off after several moments and places it in a pocket within her robes.
She begins to turn away when a long rectangular black box catches her eye near where the hologram rested. The woman turns back towards the shelf and reaches out to grab the unknown box. After a quick look she lifts the lid, exposing the contents resting within the velvety interior. Inside the box rests an intricate piece of jewelry made of black Cortosis woven in slightly rotated oval rings. The piece is meant to be worn over the forearm, with a band of exquisite silver and a matching version, although slightly larger, at the other end. In between the bands are several chains of the rare metal, with black angular gems at each intersection. The chains interweave with each other between the two bands and it appears that a few towards the wrist area are long enough to wrap between the wearer’s fingers. After looking over the piece for several moments, she closes the box and turns to exit the quarters, returning to the small sqaud. Upon arrival, she strides towards the coffin now resting upon the raised stone platform and opens the upper lid to expose the face of the fallen Darth. Gently she places the holoprojector with her image upon his chest just above the long saber hilt clasped in his hands before closing the lid once more. She only nods once to command the squad to move out and they file up the staircase that led to the entrance. As they exit onto the covered plateau, Anhiel queries flatly, “Captain, did you bring the charges as I requested?” Without hesitation, Mirr produces a pack containing several excavation grade charges and nods in response. The Admiral points towards several spots along the stone ceiling, “Place them in two rows with three meters offsets.” As she strides away, Mirr adds, “Ma’am, if your intent is to bring the ceiling down, that will not be sufficient.” Her pace does not slow as she responds confidently, “They only need to weaken the structure. I will do the rest.” Without further questions, Mirr sets to his task as the remaining soldiers stand watch, scanning the cliffs around them.
After finishing the placement of explosives, Mirr exits the plateau to join his commander, pulling the detonator from his pocket. “On your command, Admiral.” Anhiel spends over a minute staring towards the structure before she nods once. The Mandalorian clicks the main button which is followed by a dozen loud explosions. Massive cracks rip through the ceiling but the structure does not crumble. In his helmet, Mirr frowns and turns towards Anhiel to speak but stops upon seeing her hands raised and eyes closed. The stone begins to tremble, causing puffs of dust and small rocks to be expelled from the newly formed cracks. Her focus continues and her hands slowly move downwards, bringing a massive invisible force down upon the structure for nearly a minute before it collapses, burying the entrance to the facility. As the dust settles, Anhiel states with an unworried tone, “Mirr, you shall return via the path above. I sense our shadows have decided to make their move.” The Mandalorian nods slowly, looking at the pathway above before turning towards the woman. His question is answered before it is voiced, “I find your lack of faith disturbing, Captain. Just prepare yourself. You will know when it is time to join the fray. Show no mercy to these fools.” A quick salute across his chest precedes his response, “As you command, Admiral. We shall bathe the sands in their blood, in Vyrrid’s honor.”
No more than twenty minutes later, Anhiel and the few soldiers step out from the narrow pathway into the open end of the Valley of the Sleeping Kings. Before them stand a small group of the same number. A pair consisting of a moderately sized twi'lek female with maroon skin and a large human male stands at the front with three heavily armored soldiers arrayed behind them. Their robes are a deep black color and their eyes glow yellow from within their deep hoods. Both sport a smirk of one who feels entitled and overconfident. The woman speaks first with a dry tone, “Despite your convincing disguise and show earlier, you failed to mask who you are. The traitor’s only friend of note was a Jedi, one with silvery-white hair and eyes as sharp as beskar.” The large man beside her chuckles heartily, crossing his arms across his chest as he stares down at Anhiel from over a head above. Her soldier’s hold their weapons at the ready, somewhat nervous as they try to anticipate what is to come. The pair now laughs in unison at Anhiel’s silence, reveling in a false sense of superiority. Malice drips off of every word as the Grandmaster finally speaks, “You would do well to not speak of Darth Vyrrid in my presence.” Undeterred, the woman continues, “He was no Darth. The very idea is an insult. No true Sith would attempt to parley with a Jedi.”
Unimpressed, malice continues to flow over every word Anhiel utters, “He saw the error in the Sith’s way of thinking and you say he is a coward. So to be better than the Sith is to be a coward?” The male unfolds his arm and begins to step forward, offended at the statement but he stops as a single bolt flies through the air and drops one of the three soldiers behind him. Anhiel tilts her head to the left slightly, still sporting an unimpressed look “A true Darth would have sensed that coming. Curious, you claim superiority but I see nothing more than a pair of conceited, inflated, excuses for force users limited by their narrow thinking. You are not worthy enough to even speak Darth Vyrrid’s name. He was and remains far superior to what you could only hope to be.” Furious, the pair move to retort, reaching for their weapons but the speed and ferocity of Anhiel’s attack put them both on the backfoot. Her dual blades flash to life, each blade connecting with either enemy's blade that came to defense just in time. As if anticipating her movement, Mirr fires another shot just before she moves and the bolt collides with the next soldier as she reaches her targets. With the same speed, the smaller woman drags the blades towards herself as she spins to her left and slips between the pair before whipping both blades outwards, both connecting with a leg of each of the Sith. The limbs are not severed but the primary ligaments near the knee are severed, causing both to fall to their knees.The final soldier fell to the combined fire of the Admiral’s guard as she turned to face the struggling so called Sith. Her features are dark despite the beating sun overhead and she snarls just before dark blue lightning erupts from her fingertips, engulfing the pair. Their screams echo within the canyon as the storm continues without relent. Almost in the tone of a lecture, Anhiel states, “It is clear you are beyond redemption. Unlike Vyrrid, you assume the path of darkness is the best way and admonish those that show an openness you refuse to allow.” The storm stops and the woman steps in between the pair, now groaning as smoke rises from their robes. She looks down without mercy, merely looking upon them both as the fallen Siths’ blades rise from where they fell until Anhiel takes them in her hands after resetting her own weapons on her hips. For several moments she ponders the weapons before the red blades ignite, extending from the base of her hands. In a blurr, she kneels and drives the blades down upon each of the Sith, penetrating the blades through their abdomens, passing just next to the spine before the tip of the blades embed themselves in the sand beneath them.
Cauterized, the wounds do not bleed and the victims remain conscious as heat continues to radiate from each ignited blade. A handful of meters away, the Admiral’s guard took up defensive positions, electing to not directly witness what was transpiring. After straightening, Anhiel begins to circle the Sith very slowly, her eyes continually gazing down upon them “I was merciful to your comrade at the port by only taking his hand. But what little patience I have now has been exhausted.” A short burst of lightning erupts from her left hand, causing both Sith to spasm sharply. The uncontrolled movements cause their bodies to shift on the blades they are impaled on. Despite the intense feelings of disgust and hatred she felt within, the Admiral’s voice is cool “Sith do not typically seek to understand any ways other than their own and when one among you does, they are cast out.” As she speaks, both victims attempt to remain as still as possible, not focusing on her words. Their lack of attention does not go unnoticed and Anhiel waves her hand slightly, pushing the hilts of both blades ever so slightly with an invisible force. The hilts tilt to the left a centimeter, cutting through more flesh, simultaneously eliciting more screams before they finally stop.
A couple hundred meters away, Mirr leaps from the cliff he had been situated on, igniting his jetpack after dropping fifty meters to land relatively gently on the sand below. He immediately begins jogging towards the scene, his rifle readied in the event there are others that had not shown themselves yet. The closest soldier nods in acknowledgement as the Mandalorian arrives and Mirr returns the gesture before striding past, taking in the scene of torture before him. Anhiel continues to circle, her eyes a deeper yellow than he had seen before and the darkness of her features gives the woman a look of being chiseled from dark stone. He calls out to her “Admiral, we should get moving. I suspect a much larger force will be here any minute.” but the words appear to fall on deaf ears as she continues circling. A new form of scream emanates from both Sith, a guttural scream conveying agony beyond what had been experienced this far. Over half a minute passes as Mirr watches on, conflicted. His leader showed complete command and power over their adversaries but even without conscious command of the Force he could tell she was slipping further than she had before. The Mandalorian resolves himself and takes several strides forward before quickly swinging his right arm forward. As it moves, a silver blade erupts from the newly gifted lightsaber and passes through the neck of both Sith, ending their suffering in an instant. The speed with which the Grandmaster spun caused the battle hardened Mandalorian to drop into a defensive stance out of reflex but she did not strike. Her eyes said all that needed to be said, but Mirr responded, “I do not possess any knowledge on the Force you wield. However, I am not so ignorant that I can not see how troubled you are, Ori’vod. I pledged my blade to you and if that means I must end lives to protect your state of mind, I will do so again without hesitation.”
The intensity of her stare does not diminish but she ponders the words, letting the hatred she had been feeling drain from her as she did. Several long moments pass before she nods once in acknowledgement and in thanks. Mirr extinguishes his blade and fastens it back on his belt before looking around once more for enemies. Anhiel turns away and speaks plainly, “Grab their weapons. Despite their lack of ability in several areas, I sense their sabers are of a high quality. Sun will appreciate the opportunity to examine them.” Mirr straightens, saluting curtly across his chest, “As you command, Admiral.” Within her hood, yellow slowly began to drain from her irises, leaving only a fraction of the color mixed in with her natural blue as they continued the journey to return to the shuttle.
Once they arrived, Mirr headed straight for the cockpit and settled down into the pilot’s seat and began the startup sequence while simultaneously opening a communication channel to the flagship above. “Shuttle XV-117 preparing to depart the planet. High Admiral Dulcinae is on board. Prepare for an immediate jump to base upon arrival.” The communication is acknowledged and a few minutes later the shuttle lifts off the surface then begins to stream towards space. After exiting the atmosphere, the fighter escort returns to their positions and follows the shuttle to the Capital ship, landing in the hangar just after. Anhiel descends the ramp as it opens, nodding slightly to the Vice-Admiral who saluted as she passed. She is followed by a pair of soldiers who heft the injured pilot off the ramp and hold him upright somewhat in front of the Vice-Admiral, who looks over him with contempt before simply stating, “Toss him in the Brig. We will decide what to do with him after arriving.” He turns sharply and moves to follow the Admiral, keying on his comm as he walks, “The High Admiral is aboard. Begin the jump.” Moments later, the large engines of the vessel begin to glow brightly before the ship disappears, entering Hyperspace en route to Zonama.