Chapter 52
Several standard days have passed since Anhiel departed with the forces being taken to defend Korriban. The blue local sun of the system rises over the planet side base upon Zonama; its bright light bends through the atmosphere to cast a warm yet vibrant light over the planet’s surface. In orbit above, Sun and Rend’s elder commanding officer are aboard the Nephilim handling preparations for their departure to the enclave’s hiding place. With a few keystrokes on the main command console an encrypted file transfers from Sun’s datapad to the ship, simultaneously deleting the file on the datapad. Sun verifies the integrity of the file, reading the encryption criteria: “Authentication required from all council members or their delegate on file in order to access contents.” The young commander calls out, “File secured and hyperspace solutions are prepared. Will Breaker, Axios, and Fraxinus confirm final preparations are complete and all facilities are prepared for passengers. We depart upon the General’s arrival.” The dark clad Jedi straightens and nods her hooded head towards the elder Commander who bows his own head in response, “Understood. I’ll take it from here, Ma’am.”
On the planet below, deep within the musky walls of the abandoned temple, Rend sits in lingering meditation. The air is heavy with humidity and a slow drip echoes through the chamber as each drop of accumulated moisture falls from jagged stone hanging in the corner. Raw energy flows through the space around the Knight, ebbing and flowing through his being as he opens his inner eye in an attempt to gain insight on his Grandmaster’s whereabouts. It has been nearly a week since his task force was ordered to stay back and prepare to pick up the enclave’s remaining council members and all others that went into hiding together. During that time an unsettling feeling ate away at the young general which only grew with each passing hour. Old emotions of anxiety and fear spike up within him. He had experienced the eternal empire and knew of their capabilities yet Anhiel only took the Sith forces and some volunteers to combat them, leaving a significant force behind.
As he pushes all thoughts out of his mind, Rend releases those emotions that had been rising within him over the last few days; not to deprive himself of them but to burn them as fuel as he opens himself to the raw power of the Force. In the vast darkness of his meditation he begins to see visions of entire worlds burning. Planets cracked and relieved of their atmospheres. Death filled his nostrils as he looked around wondering to himself, “Is this the future or the past?” Visions flash by erratically as Rend continues looking for clues of what the Force was revealing to him. Suddenly he feels something grab his right hand, though he is alone in the room. He looks down to see a small silver haired child. The only feature he can see is the high and tight ponytail, her face remains hidden from him as she points off in the distance with her right hand. Rend allows himself to be guided by the young child to see a singular planet entrenched in warfare, a familiar presence fading while a cold dark shroud begins to envelope the world. From his peripheral vision, the Nephilim drops from hyperspace towing a large vale of light that overpowers the creeping darkness. The child is no longer holding his hand but is standing a meter in front of him with her hands held out and palms turned upwards symbolizing his choice to make. Her eyes are covered with a lace adorned head band and though she is a child, her expression bears a presence that is all too familiar. He ponders to himself, “This is an inflection point…”
The vision rips away and Rend now finds himself hovering above the damp floor of the temple. He drops to his feet and wipes his forehead and face to clear the streams of sweat that had formed. He reaches out to Sekot, “Sekot, are you there?” Sekot’s booming reply rattles Rend’s head, “Yes, young knight. I am here.” Rend continues, “I assume you saw the vision I had. I believe it was of possible futures; one of total death and destruction and one that balanced the scale. But I don’t believe they represented the same points in time.” Heavy breaths fill the chamber as Rend collects his thoughts, “Who was that child?” Sekot’s deliberation is palpable through their connection until the ancient being speaks, “There is but only one possibility. Search within yourself and the answer will become clear.” The child’s face comes to the forefront of his mind once more, the intricate lace pattern of the wrap showing in vivid detail, as is the purity of the silvery white hair and that familiar expression, though it is more cute than fearsome like… Rend sits upright quickly, shock smeared across his face, “It can’t be…” The silence that followed was deafening until Sekot interjected, “And now you see, young knight.” Dumbfounded, Rend stammers a bit before formulating a complete question, “The choice should be obvious but that choice would be in direct conflict with my master’s orders to rendezvous with the enclave. What am I to do?” Sekot answers slowly, “Young Rend, this choice has been laid before you and you alone must decide. If I were to suggest one path or the other it may affect its value in your life. Trust in your master’s teachings and her faith in you. Trust in yourself and above all, trust in the Force and your path will be revealed.” Rend folds his arms, nods then settles into a meditative position once more.
A short eternity passes while Rend immerses himself in the Force once more when he receives another vision. A tarnished armored hand gripping an elegant blade. The silver hilt is designed perfectly for its master as though hand and weapon were crafted as one. The deep purple blade hums steadily, casting its light upon the hand holding it. Deep red blood begins to run down the gauntlet and around the grooves of the fingers. In the distance, past the hand, is a dark figure which moves steadily closer. Once more, Rend feels a pull on his right hand and he looks down to see the unknown child. Her expression is both hard and pleading, as though the child is doing their best to put on a strong face despite the fear and desperation within. All noise falls away as he gazes at the child whose lips quiver but she musters enough control to plead yet somehow commands, “Save her!”
Rend’s eyes snap open to bring him back to reality and a fluid movement opens a com to the Nephilim’s command frequency, “Attention all Nephilim personnel. New Orders: We leave for Korriban in the next hour. Gather your things and make preparations immediately. All remaining vessels will continue with original orders and pick up the Council and other remaining enclave members. I hereby appoint Commander Veruna as the commanding officer of Axios, which will serve as the flagship for this mission. Go forth and secure our brethren with haste. General Rend Vega out.” Aboard the Nephilim, Sun looks towards the elder commander with a bewildered expression which he meets with a sly grin. “You heard the General, Miss Veruna. Allow me to be the first to congratulate you on your new appointment.” The sound of a sharp salute permeates the bridge and Sun smiles hesitantly for a moment before bowing with a wider hidden smile. “Thank you, Commander. I shall leave things in your hands here.” The shuttle was prepared quickly, departing immediately once the commander boarded. Outside of the viewport, the young Jedi watched her new vessel come into view. Metal of darker durasteel with angular features spanning nearly five hundred and fifty meters; an ancient salvaged supremacy class attack ship from the days of Exar Kun. From within the shuttle, Sun could sense a hint of remaining darkness and as apprehension rose within her she immediately pushed it away while reassuring herself “My master’s and grandmaster’s teachings will not fail us. This power shall fuel us on our mission to save our enclave.” As the shuttle crosses the envelope of the dark presence, Sun lifts her hand to watch the small arcs of lightning that flitted across her black gauntlet. Dark green irises gaze upon the blue/green tendrils of lighting with shock, curiosity but most of all, determination until she asserts control and folds her hands behind her back underneath black robes. The air she carried as she strode down the ramp was new but not without basis and the senior officer of Axios saluted her, “Ma’am, preparations are complete. We depart on your command.” Within her being, the young woman feels giddy but she does her best to put on a similar front as her Grandmaster, “Depart immediately. Gather tactical officers once we are underway to review what intel we have.”
Lightyears away on Korriban’s surface, days have passed since a certain Miraluka last saw Anhiel. Though his request for reinforcements to fortify the flats west of the base was approved immediately and the additional forces were already dug in. The tactic of using the missiles to pull the enemy’s attention was more effective than anticipated and fighting had been fierce. A fall back position was likely going to be necessary if things didn't change. After confirming efforts were proceeding smoothly, the Miraluka turned his gaze towards the structure that was allocated by the Sith Leadership for their forces to set up in. It takes only a moment for the man to find the familiar aura of the woman he was so fond of. As he took in the sight as he often did, he noted a small, deep purple color he had not seen before. His face narrows as he focuses, opening his being to the Force more fully to ascertain the nature of what he saw. What felt like an eternity passed as the Miraluka assessed the aura and racked his brain. Realization overwhelmed him in an instant and he gasped loudly, causing the nearby Sith soldier to jump from his seat and lift his weapon in preparation for an unseen attack. When none came, he asked hesitantly “My Lord? Is something wrong?” Athin did not hear the words but still responded quickly, “Get me a shuttle immediately. I must return to headquarters.” Stunned for a moment, the soldier responds, “My Lord, the enemy is preparing another strike. Our position is…” Ferocity unknown to Athin takes over his thoughts as his left hand lashes out and grips the officer’s windpipe. Coughing and sputtering, the officer's feet lift off the ground as he grabs erratically at Athin’s extended arm until he is cast aside into a heap upon the dirt. Coughing loudly the man is able to get out an acknowledgement to the order and runs off while Athin thinks with disbelief, “She can’t be…pregnant…”
In the distance, a constant low rumble ebbs and flows in a chamber made of stone and metal. Within, Anhiel kneels in deep meditation, seemingly unperturbed by the continued sounds of combat in the distance. She exhales steadily, her chest falling slowly beneath the single piece of form fitting black material. Behind her, the door slides open and Mirr enters, followed by the Sith Quartermaster that fashioned the outfit worn during her previous visit to Korriban. He carries a large, black crate which he sets down once inside the room. Mirr salutes with a fist across his chest and the Quartermaster speaks, “My Lord, your armor is ready and I must say, it is the finest I have ever fashioned. Your Alchemist is amongst the most skilled I have ever worked with.” In a fluid motion, Anhiel rises from the ground and turns to face the men. Her eyes fall to Mirr and she addresses her loyal guard in a somewhat saddened tone. “Mirr, I sense Athin is on his way. Please do your best to delay him, at least until we are prepared to depart.” Beneath his helmet, the Mandalorian’s torn expression remains hidden but he acknowledges his order with another customary salute and a bowed head, “As you command, Ad’ika.” With that, he departs the room as the elder Quartermaster opens the crate and an unplanned presence stops the door from closing.
With an uncharacteristically timid expression, Thea steps over the threshold, still feeling awkward in the uniform she wore. After a moment, she bows rigidly, “Sorry for popping in, uh, ma’am. Our preparations are complete and I thought I would assist.” Within her mind, catastrophizing thoughts regarding Joash’s current mission flash up one after the other but she refuses to admit she was looking for a distraction and simultaneously pulls a long black container from her satchel. Anhiel merely nods once in response, acknowledging the request. Thea moves to assist with extracting pieces of armor from the crate, setting the box she held on the ground temporarily. The Quartermaster pulls out the main chest piece. It is formed of very similar overlapping pieces of metal as her previous white armor, like the armor of a Krayt dragon. However, the hue is different. Darker. A dark grey color with black and white inlay snaking across each piece; the white is uncharacteristically dark and the black is uncharacteristically bright as though each were manipulated by something non-physical. Thea brings over the matching greaves made up of a very thin but strong material with the scale-like armor covering most, save for the knees, inner thighs, and buttocks. With assistance from Thea, Anhiel steps into the material that fits very snuggly over her undersuit. Once on, Thea tightens a strap around the waist and two at the top of her thighs to secure the metal in place. Though it is very light and strong, the number of pieces still presents some weight that needs to be secured to avoid chafing. Carefully, the assisting duo lifts the torso portion and lower it down onto Anhiel whose arms are held upright to slide into the sleeves. As it settles into place, it fits snuggly like the greaves, but is not uncomfortable. Thea moves to retrieve the black box and opens it, revealing the ornate bracelet gifted to Anhiel by the late Darth. She lifts it from the box and speaks as she moves to place it in the custom grooves set in the armor of the left forearm, “I took the liberty of furthering the alchemy applied to this item as well. I sensed a shift in your being and aligned this piece accordingly.” After a moment's pause, she adds hastily, “It is still the same piece as before. I merely adjusted it slightly to adapt to the current state of your being.” Thea looks over the other woman cautiously and frowns slightly as she notes the far off gaze, “Ma’am? Is there something wrong with the fit?” Anhiel remains silent as she looks towards the door, though her true focus is a ways beyond.
Outside the structure, the shuttle carrying Athin begins to lower to the pad but he does not wait for it to land before leaping from the open hatch. Mirr intercepts the man at the edge of the pad, blocking his way as he addresses him with a firm but respectful tone, “I am sorry, Master Athin, but the Admiral has requested that I keep you here for the time being.” The guttural growl emitted by the Jedi gave Mirr pause as it was not like the man he had come to know. Before he could ask, Athin barks out, “SHE IS WITH CHILD! She cannot be allowed to leave this facility and we need to get her off this planet.” Taken aback, the Mandalorian remains silent for several moments, torn within until he reaches a decision. “I was not aware, Master Athin. There is no greater calling than protecting one’s family, especially young ones. Come, I shall take you to her now. But we must hurry, her shuttle is ready and I suspect she is bound to depart any minute.” Thankful, Athin nods and follows as they both jog into the structure set within a rocky cliff. It takes a little over two minutes for the pair to navigate the hallways and arrive at the door to the chamber where Anhiel resided. Without pause, Athin keys the door open and strides in, noting the new armor that lay within the woman’s white robes. She takes a metallic mask from Thea and glances up as frustration rises within despite knowing Athin was inbound. Her tone reflects this as she admonishes her partner, “You are supposed to be at the forward base. It is crucial we hold that point for what is to come.”
Her words fall on deaf ears as Athin addresses her in a commanding voice he had never used with her before, “We are leaving this planet. Now.” Irritation continues to rise, but Athin’s demeanor brings her pause and she appraises him with a questioning look. “Speak plainly, Athin. You know why we are here and I have no intention of leaving yet.” The man’s teeth clench as he glances at the others present then gazes directly at Thea the longest before he queries, “Are you aware that you are pregnant?” The Grandmaster is shocked, but the only physical indication is the slight rise in her eyebrows. She remains silent, having pondered the possibility in the future though she did not expect it so soon. Discomfort grows within the room as Anhiel’s silence continues until she affixes the angular metallic mask to her face and speaks, “I know you have seen what is coming. I have meditated and my purpose is clear; I am to meet this threat head on.” Athin cuts in, “I shall go in your stead. Please Anhiel, allow others to fight in your place this one time so you may live. So our child may live.” With a few strides, Anhiel approaches the man, removing her right glove to allow the flesh of her hand to gently contact his cheek. Her voice is soft, the frustration gone and replaced with understanding, “You ask me to ignore the calling of the Force. That is not something I can do, Love. This is my duty and mine alone.” Unsurprised by the response, Athin adjusts his approach, “Then I shall go with you. There is no reason you cannot have assistance.” Beneath the mask, Anhiel’s expression falls and her tone becomes saddened, “No, my Love. I go to face the most powerful enemy that I have ever encountered; your presence would be far too distracting.”
Disagreement is smeared over Athin’s face as he moves to retort but he halts as power fills the atmosphere followed by equally powerful words, “Enough, Athin. Your Grandmaster has made her decision. I will not abandon my calling. Would you have fallen for me if I was anyone but who I am?” A deafening silence hangs in the air after the question. A knot forms in Anhiel’s chest; discomfort grows rapidly as she understands the blow she had dealt the most important being in her life. Her mask hides her pained expression as she musters an air of command one more time, “Return to your post, Athin. That is what I need of you right now.” Without waiting for a response, Anhiel strides by him and departs the room, heading towards the awaiting shuttle. Within the room, Athin only gazes towards Thea with a helpless look until he clears his throat, “Miss Tragonus, do you have a communicator?” After searching through the satchel at her waist, she pulls out a communicator and nods to which Athin replies, “Please raise Master Joash.” Somewhat surprised, Thea asks, “He is on a mission I thought. What should I say?” Athin sighs, and rubs his face for a moment before responding, “The truth. I believe that will be sufficient for him to understand. I daresay that no one cares for that woman greater than he, even myself.” Thea nods, somewhat stunned but she begins to open the comlink to Joash.
Many kilometers away, a young Sith infantryman rushes to Joash and addresses him when he is within shouting distance, “Special Commander sir, you have an open com with central command.” Joash’s strategic thought is abruptly broken by the message and he replies after a moment's pause, “I don’t have time for this!” He then stomps towards the com amplifiers and yells loud enough to be heard without them, “Special Commander here! What on this side of the galaxy could possibly be so important as to interrupt our mission?” A panicked and frustrated voice rings out over the com, “Joash, I know you feel the massive presence on this planet. Anhiel is going to face it alone even though she… she’s…” Joash interjects as the line goes quiet, “She’s pregnant.” Athin immediately questions his friend, bewildered “How? How do you know this?” Joash’s smirk goes unseen as he replies, “Your feelings betray you, per usual. Congratulations by the way.” Athin jumps in again, “Can you stop her?” A boisterous laugh flows from deep within Joash’s core before he retorts, “My friend, when she sets her mind on something and she feels it’s the will of the Force, forget it; only victory or death will stop her.” Desperation spills out of Athin as he begs his friend for help, “Please Joash, you must stop her. She won’t listen to me and if she…” Joash rubs his wrinkled forehead as he listens and interjects before Athin finishes, “Peace, Athin. I will send coordinates for extraction. My current post is too hot for pickup. I may have gone overboard when provoking the force that landed nearby.” A shit eating grin crosses his lips as the image of the impaled officer flashes through his mind which is only briefly interrupted by a fleeting thought “That is nothing to be proud of. You stray further to the darkside with each step.” On the other end of the connection, Athin’s voice is faint to Joash’s ears “Joash? Can you hear me?” The question does not elicit a response as Joash responds to his own thoughts, “My Grandmaster has shown me that the Force is neither good nor evil. If it is the Force’s will for such measures to be employed, I will impale a thousand soldiers by my own hand.” The statement ends with an air of finality prior to the elder Jedi returning the conversation at hand with conviction, “I will be there in half an hour and I swear to you Athin, I shall do all I can to protect her as well as your child.” The other end of the line is quiet as Athin feels only gratitude. With a slight smirk Joash adds in a mildly joking manner, “Should we succeed, you better hope she doesn’t execute us both for leaving our posts!”
The old Jedi cuts the connection and turns nearly all the way around to gaze off in the distance towards where he sensed the woman he called Grandmaster preparing for the greatest battle of her life. He reaches out through the Force to gain perspective when the vision returns; a small child runs by, pristine white hair flashing through the fogginess of the vision. The vision leaps forward to a clearly wounded individual rising from the ground on what could only be a ship while a dark assailant looks on. Joash speaks within himself with a somber tone, “Hmm… I understand now, this must be the will of the Force.” He turns and barks orders at the nearby Sith Commander “We are moving across the field against the enemy line. We either make it to the next clearing or die trying.”
The battle hardened Jedi stands in front of his band of troops consisting of his core commandos and a half regiment of natives. He addresses them plainly, “Alright, there is no use standing around waiting for their line to cross ours. The cliffs give us the advantage and our escapades within their base should have put them on the back foot. Ready your gear, we march on them.” A young planetary native, barely of age, speaks out, “Master Jedi, this plan is suicide. Their numbers are far greater than anticipated. We are all going to die!” Joash, gritting his teeth replies, “Yes, we all may die here today.” The young man retorts again, “If it won’t make a difference then why fight at all?” Other natives begin looking at one another, shrugging their shoulders and making mumbling conversations as Joash turns towards them in disbelief, “Your home world is besieged. Death is all around you and you believe we cannot make a difference? Do you not feel the need to defend yourself or your family?” Joash has been stepping closer towards the group of natives and with each question and statement, his tone growing louder with each step. He is nearly at the top of his voice as he continues, “Would you say that our fallen brothers and sisters lives did not make a difference? They made all the difference! Not because they were victorious but because they have shown us their might! Their courageousness! Their sacrifices! Their lives were given so that we may live and pass on their memories! Their lives and actions have meaning because we dare not forget them! And my dying wish would be that those who come after us will have courage and mettle to not forget us! Now load up because we have hell to bring!
On the perimeter of the central command facility, Anhiel boards the awaiting shuttle while Athin and Joash conversed. Her voice is strong as she calls out to the pilot, “We are ready. Take me to the front. Contact the Sith commander and inform them I am en route.” The pilot acknowledges the order and the shuttle begins to rise from the pad. Anhiel takes a seat, allowing her mind to linger on Athin for several moments before she pushes the thoughts away to focus on the upcoming struggle. She drifts into a light meditation and immediately senses a great power a ways away. That was what she moved to face and as she exhaled steadily, a single thought reverberated in her mind, “There is purpose in death.” The thought repeats for nearly an hour as the shuttle hurtles through the sky, occasionally shaking as anti-aircraft fire impacted nearby. Amongst pillars of smoke, the front comes into view. Bolts of red, green and blue flash through the air as explosions rock the ground. The shuttle dips a handful of meters above the ground as it swoops into the makeshift outpost put up by the Sith forces. Anhiel leaps from the shuttle as it only slows, somersaulting as she contacts the ground to absorb the force of impact. As she rises from the ground and dusts herself off, a red skinned Twi’lek in dark robes strides over to her. “Lord Dulcinae, I received your message. Our forces are dug in but the enemy is pushing more ferociously than we have seen thus far.” Anhiel looks off in the distance for several moments before responding calmly, “I sense their leader is en route. A being of immense power is heading this way. However, beyond that, I cannot say.” The Grandmaster’s eyes survey the area as she poses a question, “Do you have enough forces to break this line?”
Taken aback, Darth Atroxa stammers for a moment before responding, “It would result in heavy casualties. But yes, we could potentially break their line. Though, why would I sacrifice them rather than remain entrenched?” Darkness fills Anhiel’s tone as yellow begins to swirl within her eyes beneath her mask, “If they remain here, their fate will be delayed, but only marginally. In the end, they will die. However, if we break this line, my chances of success at defeating this entity greatly increases.” Mildly offended, the Sith Lord retorts, “Why should I sacrifice my forces for you? I will face this being myself. No Jedi, not even you, could dream of besting me in combat.” The armored knee that connected with the Sith’s abdomen removed any air remaining in her lungs. A demonic voice, deep and growling filled her ears and mind, accentuated by the Force as Anhiel clamps her armed hand on the Sith’s face, scrunching her cheeks with an iron grip. “I am no mere Jedi, Sith. Ir tu zenoti niekas iv tiesa midwan.(And you know nothing of true power) Edoui kuris kioska kash nuyak qo sekleti receive nie xalone (Those who stand in my way shall receive no mercy.) The Twi’lek recovers and attempts to straighten, gazing at the masked Jedi before her. Neither speaks for several moments until Anhiel commands, “Give the order, Darth Atroxa. Once their line is broken, you and your forces may retreat to protect the temple; though I doubt your chances if I fail.” Without waiting for a response, Anhiel turns and walks away towards the sounds of combat. Dumbfounded, the Sith Lord watches her walk away until she pulls out a comlink and opens a connection to the commander, “Prepare your troops, we are going to counter-attack.”
A pair of Sith troop transports touch down to the ground at the rear of the entrenched position. A platoon of Sith commandos descend the ramps and jog into the compound then stop in ranks as the middle aged Captain steps forward and salutes, “Ma’am, Special Commander Joash redirected us to here. We await your orders.” The scowl that formed on her face remained hidden beneath her mask and she stated plainly, “Darth Atroxa is preparing a counterstrike to break the enemy’s line. Report to her.” The man salutes once more then inclines his head, “As you command, my Lord. We shall break their resolve in your name.”
Explosions rock the barren landscape as silver ships strafe the ground with ship mounted laser fire. Chunks of rock and superheated sand fly through the air with each impact. Within the forward trench, Sith soldiers duck as debris flies over their position. In the distance, soldiers clad in golden armor with matching shields and staffs tipped with blue blades advance on their position; their formation is tight, absorbing the light blaster fire that speeds towards them. From the trench leaps a white armored woman, followed by the Sith soldiers and they charge the enemy line. Purple sabers snap to life as Anhiel flips over the thrusted spear before her; a quick backwards jab of her left saber severs the spinal cord as she lands and deflects a follow up strike. An extended hand allows bolts of green lightning to erupt from her fingertips and engulf a group of soldiers, their metallic armor conducting the energy effectively. The flurry of strikes that followed were nearly untrackable as the purple sabers eviscerated the golden soldiers. The Grandmaster’s forward movement is not slowed as she steps over the fallen corpses, allowing the soldiers behind her to dispatch the remaining enemy soldiers. With the momentum of the initial assault, Anhiel and the Sith forces continue to push forward over several hours, eventually shattering the enemy’s line. As the remaining golden soldiers retreat, Anhiel watches on, breathing heavily for many moments before she commands the nearby Sith officer, “Dig in. They will be returning shortly. When they do, your orders are to occupy the soldiers. Their commander will be present and you are to not interfere; just keep out of the way.” Without waiting for a response, Anhiel strides away, heading towards a sheltered outcropping a couple dozen meters away. Upon arriving, she drops into her usual meditative position, resting on her knees as she exhales deeply to begin focusing her mind on the conflict that is rapidly approaching.
In the distance, a silver shuttle drops to the ground and opens its doors, allowing a man clad in a white layered tunic with fair skin and a close shaven head to stride down the ramp with confidence. The layers of thick, refined material come to points adorned with gold. An armored soldier approaches and bows his head, “Prince Arcann, enemy forces have begun a push and have broken our line. An enemy Force user is assisting and is unlike those we have encountered thus far.” The prince’s face remains emotionless as he begins to stride past the soldier, “Gather your men. We push forward now. I shall dispatch this so-called Force user. Send word to Prince Thexan that we are moving on the temple. Should we secure it, the rest of the planet shall fall easily.” A swift salute acknowledges the orders before the soldier departs to send the message. The Prince boards the shuttle once more and grips the bar on the edge of the opening as the vessel rises from the ground and departs in the direction of his quarry.