The vision came through a nebulous haze, dark and cold. A small light became visible, struggling to break through—always distant. Then came the menacing presence, a looming shadow in the mist both unknowable and yet strangely familiar. Two purple shafts shone, but hard as he tried the strikes fail to hit. The shadow grew larger, engulfing everything around, leaving only a void of pain, fear, despair.
"Hey, are you glitching inside there?" Beckett came over the back of the ship.
Sever came out of his trance. He sat in meditation inside his cabin aboard Beckett's ship. The feelings from his vision lingered inside him, clearer than ever before. "What is it?"
"Oh, good. You're alive. I couldn't tell if you were taking a nap or just died on me under that thing. We're here."
Sever followed Beckett to the cockpit. His associates, Val, and the Ardennian, Rio Durant, piloted the starship. They had come out of hyperspace and were headed to a planet bathed in the blood-red light of its single sun. Something stirred inside Sever; something dark. This was no ordinary world.
"Welcome to Dathomir." Rio pointed at the planet with two of his four arms. "Home of the rancors and... nothing much. You know, I heard stories that a coven of witches used to live here. Maybe they killed the Crimson Lady to perform some kind of magical ritual."
"Krayt spit." Beckett sucked something in his teeth with his tongue. "There's no hokey religion that can match a good blaster by your side. Just ask the Jedi."
"What Jedi?" Val said.
"Exactly."
"Well, whatever is down there, is bad enough to get the Crimson Lady in trouble." Rio toggled a few switches.
"You keep calling her that," Sever said.
"You never heard of her?" Beckett gave him another derisive look.
"Should I?"
"Dryden Vos sends her in when jobs go wrong." Val checked her monitors. "She makes problems go away,"
"Yeah, usually in the form of the people who created them in the first place." Beckett rested a hand on one of his guns.
"Boy, was I happy when she saved our asses in Socorro. Remember?" Rio shook his head.
"I try not to."
"We'll drop you off at her last known location." Val tapped at one of her screens, showing a map. "Then, you're on your own."
"No. Drop me off five hundred meters from it." Sever pointed at another area.
"Why? Dramatic walking?" Rio said.
"He's expecting a trap." Val punched in the desired coordinates.
"Always." Sever walked to the back of the ship to gather his things.
Beckett laughed. "You may have no ship, but you're doing just fine in the brains department, pal. Five hundred meters it is."
The ship landed in a clearing by a swamp. Sever deboarded, rifle in hand and hauling his backpack. He spied the silhouette of crooked leafless trees, resembling outreached claws, through the perennial red mist obfuscating the surface of the planet. Translucent bulbs made out of membranes hung from the knotted branches. The place pulsated with the dark sensation Sever experienced as they made their approach.
"Happy hunting." Becket closed the boarding ramp.
The starship departed, leaving the bog in silence.
So, this is Dathomir. Sever had heard of it before, but never imagined he would find himself trekking its surface.
To the untrained eye, the terrain offered nothing of value. But to a tracker, it yielded a wealth of information. Sever enhanced his senses, but didn't pick up anything unusual. Yet, he found eroded signs of an old battle. Judging by the depth, shape, spacing, and position of the tracks, he could tell a band of women had faced a droid army. Sever cleared the dirt around what appeared to be a stone protruding from the dirt, uncovering the head of a B1 battle droid.
Using psychometry, the bounty hunter saw images of the conflict in his mind's eye. A group of female warriors wrapped in red, fought fearlessly and desperately against a larger force of Separatist tanks, troops, and attack crafts with blades and plasma bows. Sever knew he was witnessing the Nightsisters' massacre at the hands of Count Dooku during the Clone Wars.
He continued east until he arrived at the site of Theleema's last communication. The Star Courier Thorn lay at the foot of a mountain. A fortress marred by war had been carved from the living rock. Its stone effigy watched from above as female-shaped columns supported the roof of the cavernous entrance. The dark side of the Force pulsed hard from within its bowels, calling to Sever.
The trail from the starship to the stronghold revealed the presence of a single healthy, adult female with a confident and relaxed stride, used to walking softly. There were also tracks of mechanical feet, which frequented the fortress. The unevenness of the gait showed they were done by cybernetic implants, not a droid. Someone agile; an adult male. The indentations were too deep for someone of regular size, but they were consistent, which meant the prosthesis had to be extensive. There were no signs of recent fighting.
It's a trap. Sever reasoned. This triggered a premonition. It manifested as an impression rather than an image—as customary. An ability which had only failed him once in his life, and later taught him never to ignore to great regret.
Sever dropped his backpack and rifle by the boarding ramp of the Thorn and stepped inside the fortress. He didn't need his helmet's visual plus scanner to improve visibility in the darkness. His natural infrared sight didn't pick up any signs of life inside, nor did his enhanced hearing. And the strength of the dark side inside the mountain shrouded his Force sense. Yet his telepathy registered sentient thoughts somewhere within.
A glowing, green lake dotted by islets made for the inside of the hollow mountain. Tall spires of stone dwellings rested on them. Orbs on pedestals added to the dim illumination. The strongest spike of dark side came from a temple carved with runes, occupying the center of the cavern. There was something ancient and reverential about the place.
This must be it, Sever thought, approaching the eerie liquid. His thoughts were of his Master and the woman he loved; the one he and Master Kenobi had come to lay to rest here near the end of the war. Sever bowed his head in respect.
The darkness stirred. A face emerged from the depth, stopping short from breaking the surface. Sever recognized the face, knowing well the woman was dead. Her lifeless eyes locked his, making him retreat, while reaching for his pistol. A green, glowing mist wafted around him, obscuring everything. Spirit ichor, he inferred. The source of the Nightsister's magick; the slaughtered clan of the Witches of Dathomir.
Voices reverberated all around him. An incorporeal female laughter whizzed behind him. A snake formed from the very fog, launching at Sever. He stepped aside, drawing his vibromachete, killing the creature in the process. The body hit the ground, turning into a swarm of scurrying insects. The next snake came from behind, evaporating when Sever chopped it in half.
Illusions. Sever sheathed his blade and drew his pistol the instant he felt the presence.
"Blasters?" a woman scorned. "How uncivilized."
A figure cloaked in crimson strode into view, her face hidden under the hood. She dropped her covering, revealing herself to be a Dathomirian with partly-shaven, raven hair; gray skin, silver eyes, facial tattoos, and a lip ring. She had the undeniable allure and unmistakable menace of a well-crafted weapon, wearing the black leather garments of a warrior with the modesty of a dancer. Two E-851 blasters were strapped in reverse holsters to her hips.
"Theleema," he assumed.
"Sever."
"You're a Nightsister."
"Oh, I'm much more than that." Theleema smiled, beautiful and terrible; reaching for a hilt made from overlapping black scales of ultrachrome over an inoxium core, and secured to the back of her leather sash. The red glow of a crossguard lightsaber washed over her.
Sever holstered his guns and reached under his coat, producing two shotos made of dark wood and bronzium, wrapped with black leather strips. Purple lightsaber blades the length of long daggers hissed to life, as did a pair of smaller ones emitting from the pummels.
Theleema's smile widened.
Their blades clashed in a crackle of static. Right away, Sever studied her style: Instinctual, nimble, and unrelenting. She possessed proficiency in Juyo, Ataru, Niman, and aspects of Shien, as well as Teräs Käsi and the Nightsisters' martial art, Sangrada. The dark side flowing from the temple enhanced her actions, obscured by the magick ichor. Her strength in the Force was considerable.
Precise footwork, counter-attacks, and efficiency of movement defined the bounty hunter. Theleema found Sever's style harder to identify. It appeared to be a blend of all sevenlightsaber forms, Jar'Kai, and a brutal version of Teräs Käsi.
Sever trapped Theleema's lightsaber with a blade in his pummel, clearing it out of the way. The other sword missed the Dathomirian's head, as she ducked under it while delivering a spinning kick which knocked Sever's helmet off. He Force-pushed the witch away; the ichor parting in her wake.
"You're not Ubese," she teased. "That's much better. Love the eyes."
Sever assumed an open stance, inviting her to attack. Theleema activated a switch on her hilt. The main blade became thinner, longer, and flexible, turning into a lightwhip. It took all of Sever's skill to avoid the lashes. One of them snapped a shoto out of his hand, damaging his wrist gauntlet. The lightwhip tied Sever's legs, pulling him off his feet. Rolling over the ground, he dodged a second strike. Sever reclaimed his missing shoto with the Force, and watched Theleema retreat into the temple.
Sever followed with his shotos deactivated, to avoid giving away his position in the mist. Sensing the mind of his enemy in a place steep in the dark side wasn't easy. "You killed them," "You failed your Master," "Embrace the dark side," unseeing spirits whispered in his head. Theleema emerged from the haze, swinging her blade. Sever parried with a shoto and struck with the other one. The lightsaber passed through the illusion causing no harm. The real Theleema attacked from the flank, tying up Sever's arms and neck with her lightwhip. He stomped her foot, loosening her grip, hit the witch with the back of his head, and tossed her over his shoulder. The sound of clapping stopped Sever from delivering the finishing blow. The magical ichor disappeared.
"Wonderful." A tattooed Zabrak sat on a stone throne high on a dais. "Magnificent. There's nothing I find more exhilarating than fate decided by a lightsaber duel."
"Maul." Sever kept his lightsabers humming.
"I'm flattered. Most who know of me believe me to be dead."
"That can be arranged."
Maul chortled. "Yes. I sense much anger in you. Quite handy when using Form VII—not many Jedi do. Interesting color."
Sever wondered if Maul meant his eyes or his shotos. He switched them off. "Why the test?"
"I needed to know if you were worthy of my offer. And you didn't disappoint."
Theleema stood aside, studying Sever with interest.
"You are the real leader of Crimson Dawn." Sever knew well of Maul's past association with the underworld during the Clone Wars.
"Very preceptive." Maul brought his clasped hands to his face. "And my apprentice makes sure things are done to my liking."
"How did you know about me?"
"I simply followed the trail of clone corpses. Commander Bacara of the 21st Nova Corps, who fought in the Battle of Mygeeto. Captain Jag of the Starfighter Corps, who served in Cato Neimoidia. Commander Neyo of the 91st Mobile Reconnaissance Corps stationed in Saleucami. And now, Commander Bly from the 327th Star Corps, who participated in the Battle of Felucia. All of them executors of their respective Jedi commanders under Order 66. And all of them killed during bounties fulfilled by one Dolus Sever. It seems to me someone is on a revenge path."
"What makes you think I'm going to help you against your former Master?"
"Why would I?"
"You're hiding in a remote planet, running a criminal organization in secret with the help of a new apprentice, looking for a Jedi with a grudge. The real question in, why wouldn't you?"
"Insightful indeed. Yet misguided. I am not planning anything. I'm simply a messenger."
Maul activated an imagecaster in his hand. The silhouette appeared, repeating the message: "Transmission code: C1-0D-PA-T0-42. I repeat, transmission code: C1-0D-PA-T0-42. Do you copy? I know you're out there. If you're listening to this, I say again: C1-0D-PA-T0-42. I hope you copy. Transmitting file. Over and out."
"Do you know what that means?" Maul descended from his throne to the clanking of his cybernetic legs.
Sever broke it down in his mind: Cloak One – Zero Dark – Priority Alpha – Target Zero – Terminate with Extreme Prejudice. Quinlan Vos is deep undercover and wants me to assassinate the Emperor immediately. The timeframe for the operation is short. "You're the messenger, you tell me."
"It was sent to me by an old benefactor of mine. One who calls itself the Pharos."
"It?"
"I've never met this mysterious ally."
"And yet you trust it?"
Maul paced about while he spoke, "It saved my life once, and it help me build Crimson Dawn throughout the years. Its valuable information has yet to fail me... or give me cause for concern. It was the Pharos who brought you to my attention in the first place. The message is for you, and so is the file that was attached to it."
It can't be. Not him; not like this. Was this what he's been up to all these years, working with Maul? Then again, his Master was no stranger to unorthodox tactics—Sever had learned many of them from him—and he had been seduced by the dark side before. How else would Maul know about him or be in the possession of the Cloak's code? "What file?"
"A blueprint of the Imperial Palace in Coruscant, and information regarding a rare public appearance by Emperor Palpatine. I may not know the details of the message, but its meaning seems obvious to me. If your secret code is what I think it is, I want to offer my help."
"Out of the kindness of your heart?"
Maul faced him with dagger eyes. "Out of my hatred for our mutual enemy. Isn't this why you hunt down clones; revenge? Well, here's the chance to fulfill that goal by beheading the sando once and for all."
"The enemy of my enemy is my friend. Is that it?"
"The enemy of our enemy is your greatest chance to have no enemies."
"And make you the new Emperor? I thought Kenobi chopped your legs off, not your brain."
"And who's going to follow me, the Moff, the Senate? Are the other Jedi in hiding going to sit back and watch me take over? I have no desire to rule over a crumbling Empire. I would rather grow my own in the ensuing chaos. I chose to reveal myself to you, so you know my intensions are true. You're free to go, if you wish to." Maul motioned at the door. "But ask yourself first, if you're willing to live the rest of your life knowing you walked away from the best chance you ever had to correct the mistakes of your past. Because never forget, the only reason the Sith rule the galaxy is because of the Jedi."
The greatest manipulator uses the truth. Sever knew Maul had ulterior motives, but killing the Emperor would require all the help he could get. Perhaps this was the reason his Master trusted the former Sith. In a perilous galaxy, the only thing you could trust was the animosity of your nemeses. "What if I agree?"
"Then, I will provide you with anything you need. The Crimson Dawn's resources would be your own—as would be my apprentice." Maul waved at Theleema, who nodded in agreement.
He wasn't testing me. He was showing me what his apprentice is capable of, so I would take her with me. "We're going to need more than two Force-wielders to pull this off."
"Yes. But sadly, my face is too recognizable. You need unknown quantities. Luckily for us, I've found another Jedi survivor, Jarriss Marrow, a well-connected Jedi Healer."
"Never heard of him, but sounds like my kind of guy. How do you know him?"
"He has done business with Crimson Dawn on several occasions. He can help you infiltrate the palace and will come handy in a fight. That is, if you're willing to accept my help. The Jedi failed to defeat Sidious and so did I. But now, we have been given the opportunity to change that. Everything we have worked for all these years has led to this moment. Together, you and I, can succeed where everyone has failed. We can destroy the Sith." Maul extended his hand.