As you walk through the swampy jungle to the South, you enter the ancient ruins of the Dark Temple. Abandoned and forgotten, the temple has slowly succumbed to the erosion of time. Before you lies the central chamber—the walls have crumbled, the ceiling caved in, and the jungle now flourishes within the once pristine halls.

Green light filters itself through the temple, mixing eerily with the dark, violet hue of Dromund Kaas' sky. Lightning flickers overhead, the raw energy of the Force clashing high above. The floor is overgrown with flora, large plants and grasses that have swallowed the old stone. Wild creatures roam freely, skittering away from your presence, but your heightened senses can feel the brush of vicious predators, hiding just out of sight.

The main hall is lined on both sides by towering statues, heads bowed in supplication. They stand in deference to the sculpture of a pureblooded Sith, which towers over the chamber with outstretched arms. The sculpture has been split diagonally down the middle, as if cleaved in two by a rusted blade, but you can still feel the majesty in the stone.

On either side of the main hall, remnants of branches to inaccessible parts of the temple remain. Ignoring those, your head tilts to take in what is left of the mezzanine—the balcony overlooking the chamber—still held aloft by the great pillars standing behind the statues. Several of the pillars have fallen, providing a pathway up to the mezzanine for those willing to take the risk for higher ground.

You can feel the danger of the temple. Sense the spirits of the Sith that still haunt the grounds, waiting for poor, misguided fools to walk blindly into their domain. Now, they have two souls to consume… that is, if you and your opponent don't destroy each other first.

Lightning flashed an irregular staccato beat overhead, the growling roll of thunder washing through the temple just moments later. It gave Sashar pause. Were he in an ambushing mood, the thunder would make the perfect cover for his movements, and in this wreck of a once-great temple, there were plenty of places to hide.

Letting the Force suffuse him, Sashar bent the light around him in such a way that he was effectively invisible, and proceeded towards the balcony by way of a partially collapsed pillar. There was a charge in the air, one of anticipation.

Someone else was here.

It wasn’t a prodding from the Force; it wasn’t a word from the divines that clued him into it; this sensation was entirely different, but familiar - he was being watched. Rather, he had been, and now his observer had lost him and was trying furiously to work out where he was. There was the barest brush of the Force against his consciousness, and Sashar mentally scolded himself. He was being hunted by a Force user, and had neglected to subdue his Force presence. Almost instantly, the Adept’s Force signature vanished and he remained perfectly still, lest the shimmer in the air caused by his refracting the light about him give his position away. His hand stopped moving towards the Conk rifle on his back. He even stopped breathing.

Lightning flashed again overhead, and Sashar counted until the thunder sounded a primal tattoo throughout the chamber. Nothing happened. No blasts of Lightning, no lethal red bolts of energy. Just a small rodent skittering through the clearing.

Four seconds, the Erinos reminded himself.

Allowing the shallowest of breaths, Sashar unslung the concussion rifle from across his back with glacial patience, then clicked off the safety. It took nearly a full minute for lightning to flash again overhead, strobing through the huge hole in the ceiling.

One. Two. Three...Now!

Sashar moved swiftly up the rest of the pillar, then dropped to his stomach, still invisible, sweeping the clearing and the statues below him, focusing on the shadows and the foliage. Nothing moved, or gave any indication that it’d seen Sashar move. He frowned behind his goggles and thought furiously, straining each sense he possessed for any sign of his pursuer. Nothing.

No. Wait…

Closing his eyes, Sashar reached out a single hand, and placed it on the edge of the crumbling pillar he’d just climbed. The Force ebbed and stirred ever so slightly. There was a blurring of his sight, and an image of a booted foot - not his own - passed through his mind. The imprint left on the boulder was just enough for Sashar to discern its recent history: he wasn’t alone on the balcony.

The di’kut was right above him.

The Force flared into a sunspot, and Sashar threw himself from the balcony, twisting in the air, throwing a kukri at the space on the half-destroyed rail above where he’d been lying. He landed in a heap amongst the grass and rubble below, but wasted no time hopping up into a crouch, his shoto lightsaber coming to life in one hand, the other held out, as if to give him balance.

His opponent had rolled laterally to dodge the thrown kukri, but now stood, a rivulet of blood running down his cheek from where he’d very nearly been impaled by the blade.

“Who the hell are you?” Sashar asked, recognising his own training in the plain, unassuming figure on the balcony above him.

“I remember you. Sashar Erinos Arconae, father of Teroch Arconae, former Consul of Arcona. I was told a tale that you had died. I’m glad to hear the stories of your demise were exaggerated.” Lightning flashed overhead, illuminating Uji’s appearance: the Aedile of House Galeres stood above Sashar, looking down, the words he had thought of for years finally being realized.

“Yeah? Most ad'ika lie about their buir, make them out to be more than they are.” The mask covering Sashar’s face distorted his voice, and yet Uji still recognized the cadence. Memories from years ago came flashing through his mind, the face of his Jedi Master distorted in pain with the single point of a lightsaber piercing his heart. That same mask staring at Uji from his youth stood watching him now.

“Four strikes: that’s how long the first man to train me could stand against you...” Pulling his thoughts to the present, Uji’s gaze hardened as he focused on the Elder before him. “When you killed my first Master,” the Templar drew his own saber as he spoke, igniting the golden blade, the snap an all too familiar sound to both men who had lived their lives by the very blades they carried. “I have often considered in the intervening years how I would fare, should I have the opportunity to stand against you.”

Uji took a single step forward, his body tensing like a coil before he leapt from the edge of the platform. He landed opposite of Sashar, the man’s goggle-covered eyes revealing nothing of the Adept’s thoughts. “I heard others speak of your prowess. Celevon nearly laughed when I told him my story. He said that you must have been a young man to spend so long baiting my teacher before you killed him.”

The Templar raised his saber in a customary salute, turning to present a smaller profile to his opponent. The nervous energy within him began to bleed away as he took his stance. Committed to the task at hand, his thoughts focused on erasing the ghost from his past and leaving only the man standing before him. Sashar, meanwhile, continued to stand placidly. His expression remained covered, yet somehow the Adept’s amusement at his Aedile’s display bled through the mask.

Uji watched as Sashar mockingly raised his saber into a salute before letting the blade fall back to his side, leaving the Adept completely open. Uji hesitated, his eyes never leaving his target. Studying Sashar’s stance told Uji little: the man appeared casual, almost bored. “This is not turning out how I had imagined,” Uji mumbled to himself.

“Have you really wasted this much time imagining a confrontation between us? I'd say I am flattered but I would be lying.” The Adept’s sharp tone implied that he had begun to lose his patience. Uji grimaced for a moment before springing forward, his first attack a simple feint to test his opposition.

Uji barely saw Sashar move as the older Obelisk simply slid out of the way of the blade. Uji reversed the movement, his saber lashing out to puncture his opponent's left shoulder. Again the older man simply waited until the last moment and slipped out of harm's way. Uji’s attack cut through open air, and a momentary flicker of frustration crossed his features before he saw Sashar begin to move. The Adept’s strike came faster than Uji could expect, far more fluid than any Soresu practitioner he had ever faced.