Abandoned and forgotten, the ruins of the Dark Temple have slowly succumbed to the erosion of time. In the central chamber—the walls have crumbled, the ceiling has 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 the presence of intruders while vicious predators hide 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 pure-blooded 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 the majesty in the stone still echoes to the past.

On either side of the main hall, remnants of branches to inaccessible parts of the temple remain. One might tilt their head 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. Spirits of the Sith are rumoured to still haunt the grounds—waiting for poor, misguided fools to walk blindly into their domain.

The holocron lay somewhere inside. According to what info the Sentinel Network had, it was a trove of lost necromantic knowledge—secrets far too dangerous to fall into the greedy grasp of Tarentum. Korroth did not know how the Network obtained this information. It might have been intercepted communication, or a tip-off from within Yridia. All that mattered was that he had the opportunity to put a spanner in the works of the Dark Brotherhood—always a good way to spend one’s day.

The Pau’an stood at the foot of a statue in the great hall, trying to match the ruins around him to the map he had memorised. Even in its dilapidated state, it was easy to see the Temple’s intended architectural focus: the reverent statues and the buttressed pillars of the nave all led the gaze up to the Sith Lord’s stone figure. In the glory days of the Sith Empire these stones might have sung choir to the everlasting power of the Sith, but now everything was exposed to its true light. The purple lightning flashed through the open roof, illuminating the cracks in the rock, the creeping vines, the statues’ shoulders girded with grass, their faces worn smooth by the rain. Slowly, inexorably, the Universe was spreading its message: nothing lasts forever.

For some time now Korroth had been hearing footsteps approaching the Temple. They stopped at the monumental entrance behind him, and the snap-hiss of an activating lightsaber rolled through the hall. The Odanite did not turn to greet the visitor, but his awareness coursed outwards in that direction. At first he was met by an unswerving intent, a mind fixed upon its objective deep within the Temple. However, behind that rigid determination there blew a turbulence of spirit that put Korroth on his guard. It was like seeing roiling magma build up within a dormant volcano.

“I’m guessing we’re here for the same thing,” the new arrival spoke out. “Are you going to stand in my way?”

“Do I even need to answer that?” Rejoined Korroth.

“Then we’ll let our weapons do the talking. Tell me at least where you come from, so Tarentum knows where to send your severed head.”

“If you really want to know, answer me this: what do you see in that monument up there?” The Pau’an raised his chin at the hall’s central statue. “What is its meaning to you?”

“An ancient Sith Lord,” the Tarenti replied after some delay. “A being who bent space and time to his will, so that even we, millennia after his passing, can know of his power.”

“Where I come from we have breached this illusion of control.” As he spoke, the Pau’an unclipped his lightsaber. “We have pledged our action to a single will, knowing that all our lives are in the hands of the Force.” An emerald blade spilled out from the hilt.

“A Jedi.” The Tarenti spat out the word like a morsel of rotten meat.

As the hum of the Sith’s lightsaber drew closer, Korroth turned to face his opponent. The green blade rose and deflected a two-handed blow from overhead. A second later and it would have split Korroth like the Sith Lord’s statue at the back of the hall. Without hesitation the Tarenti pushed into a concatenation of wide-angle strikes, gaining ground with each resolute step. Korroth attempted to retreat and regain some distance, but the reach of his opponent’s weapon was throwing him off. The Pau’an was facing a humanoid taller than himself, and he was not used to that. The extra leverage, however slight, meant that the Jedi’s ripostes were always an inch out of range.

In an effort to obviate the problem, Korroth stopped retreating. As the Sith bent his shoulder into another broad chop, Korroth stepped into the attack and lunged his blade inside the opponent’s guard. The Sith brought his weapon close to his chest to parry the thrust, but the Odanite did not give him the space to regain the impetus of attack. The emerald lightsaber snapped to the ground. The Tarenti jerked his foot back; the incandescent beam delved into the rock then came back up for another attack.

The Sith had lost his well-grounded stance. His lightsaber was in his right hand and his left arm stretched out to try and regain his balance. Unwilling to retreat, he blocked the Jedi’s attacks close to his body. The Odanite closed the distance even more, hoping to unnerve his opponent with the tightening leeway. Their lightsabers clashed in a cartwheeling motion, flashing by inches from their faces. The Sith batted aside a cut to the leg and shifted back with his trailing foot. He bent his knees, dropping his centre of gravity. Korroth’s blade, caught by the forte of its counterpart, got carried over to the Sith’s right flank. Simultaneously, the Sith swivelled his shoulder and hips to the left, and his free hand came up and punched into the space between the two combatants. The air itself seemed to buckle, then the wind rushed out of the Pau’an’s lungs, and his frame bent in two under the force of the invisible blow.

Korroth managed to regain his footing, but the interval allowed the Sith to redefine the spacing of the battle. The two combatants now stood a good two lightsaber lengths apart. Their blades, raised and fixed in position, almost touched at the tips. The Jedi pulled air back into his lungs—he felt like a kaadu had trotted over his chest.

The duellists were locked in relation to each other, even as they began moving towards the back of the hall. This initial skirmish had served as an ice-breaker, an introduction to each other’s disposition. But both of them knew the game would need to take a deadly turn before the day was over. The two crossed into an exposed area of the Temple, where the roof had collapsed. The rain pelted down and made their sabers hiss and steam. Their gazes remained fixed on each other, their movements mirrored, as if an invisible durasteel pole pinned their bodies along the same straight line.

Solas slowly spread his legs and crouched low. Bringing his saber down by his left hip with the blade pointed behind him. His left hand resting just above the emitter, the Tarenti stared at his opponent, unmoving. The pair stood in the rain each waiting on the other to move first, Korroth began to adjust his footing so that he was in the precise posture needed for his next attack. As the pau’an settled into his stance the rain began to fall heavily. The two duelists stood like stones; one a lone sentinel in a still pond, the other a staunch blockade in rushing rapids. Time seemed to lose all meaning as the pair stood watching each other for any indication of their next move. Looking into Solas’ eyes Korroth found them staring straight ahead, almost as if the Sith was staring through the Jedi, not at him. Bringing his saber over his head, the Odanite closed his eyes and sighed deeply as he felt all tension and bindings fall away from his body. A moment later his eyes flashed open and he moved in the span of a thought. Launching himself at the Sith, he brought his saber around in an ferocious slash aimed at Solas’ head. To Korroth’s surprise the moment before his saber should have split the knight’s head open a crimson blade lashed out and redirected the Jedi’s strike harmlessly to the side. As the pau’an landed he rounded on his opponent he only had a fraction of a second to bring his blade up to block a vicious over-head strike from the Sith’s blade. The might of the strike for so overbearing that it forced Korroth to bend his knees deeply no as to not be crushed by the impact. Pushing back into his opponents blade the Jedi was unprepared when Solas broke off the lock and unleashed a rapid-fire chain of wide slashes and aggressive cross-cuts. Once again Korroth was forced onto his back foot to avoid being overtaken by the sheer dominance of the Sith’s assault.

Finding a pattern to the Tarenti’s attacks, the ranger planted his rear foot and ducked under a large horizontal slash and began explosive counter assault. Where Solas’ attacks had been fierce and overbearing, Korroth’s were a constant blurred mass of green plasma. Attacking from unpredictable angles and striking with controlled precision. It was hard to tell who had the advantage, as both duelists had brought their respective styles to bear. Korroth’s adeptness with Vaapad allowing him to move with a flowing almost liquid-like grace and control. And a proficient user of Djem-So, Solas was a standing strong with his powerful blocks and counters. Their duel had taken on the appearance of a elegant dance more than a fight.

The Jedi clearly held the edge in overall skill, but the Sith’s chosen form was enough to keep the battle even. The dance of crimson and emerald moved around the temple’s pillars, a constant back and forth. One moment Korroth would appear to have the upper hand and move in for a precise stab. Only for Solas to bat the attack aside and cut loose with a aggressive slash that would cut air as the pau’an would duck the attack. and aim a low strike at the epicanthix’s legs which the Sith would either jump over or dodge out of the way of. As the pair danced into the center of the room they finally broke apart coming to rest a few saber lengths away for each other. Each combatant breathing somewhat heavily, they had pushed each other but neither was anywhere near their limit. The two locked eyes with one another, this time wordlessly evaluating each other’s skill with a blade. Despite the level of this encounter, both knew that their opponent had more in their arsenal that they had yet to pull out.

A flare of purple light flashed through the hall, followed seconds later by a rolling peal of thunder that drowned out the drumming of rain and the hum of lightsabers. The duellists were soaked through; their clothes clung to their skin and water dripped down their noses. Puddles, churned up by the downpour, covered the uneven flagstones of the temple. The Tarenti’s boots were submerged in an inch of water. His left foot extended forward, his knees bent into a low stance. He gripped his lightsaber near to his right shoulder, the blade pointing towards the stormy sky.

The Sith did not take his eyes off his opponent, but both combatants’ minds had begun to stray from the immediate battle. Korroth could feel it, and he knew the Tarenti felt it too. A cold chill that seeped in deeper than the wind or the wet fabric of their robes. An icy breath that whispered to them from within the depths of the temple. The sinister presence brought the mission back to the fore of the Jedi’s mind. Every second that that holocron and its secrets remained intact was a victory for Tarentum.

Korroth pushed off the balls of his feet and charged his opponent. The Epicanthix took a step forward and chambered his empty left fist at the hip. Korroth recognised the motion mid-stride and leapt to the side, just as the Sith pushed his hand forward. The impact force swooshed beside the Odanite, but the wave of water that it swept up engulfed him entirely.

Coughing and sputtering, the Pau’an flicked mucky water out of his eyes. He raised his emerald blade in a defensive position, but his clouded vision did not register the Sith. He rubbed his eyes with his wrist, and saw that the other combatant had rushed behind a curtain of vines, into the aisle below the mezzanine.

The Ranger ran after him.

The two raced into a dark corridor, and the chilling pervasive presence of the holocron grew stronger. Korroth was catching up to the red glow ahead of him, but in an instant it turned a corner and disappeared. Korroth rounded the bend and burst into a domed chamber. Immediately he felt a quaver in the Force and dived into a roll. The crimson lightsaber thrummed above him.

He completed his roll and came to his feet to face the Sith. Crimson blade crashed down on emerald. And the Knight did not give him a chance to retaliate. His wide-angle strikes came in all directions, one after the other. He seemed possessed by a feral rage, his teeth bared, his facial tattoos distorted into a scowl. Each hit came in faster on the heels of the other. In the darkness of the chamber the Sith’s sulphurous eyes appeared to glow even brighter.

The Pau’an backed away towards the centre of the room, trying to find an opening through the Marauder’s barrage. The clash of the two blades reverberated in the circular chamber. Korroth took another step backwards, and butted against a stone ledge. The Sith raised his saber high and twisted his body into a direct strike, the Force giving impetus to the blow. Unable to move aside the Pau’an took the full force of the attack on his green blade. He was pushed back, his elbow on the stone surface behind him, his blade batted off to the side.

The Sith raised his lightsaber above his head, preparing to cut through his unguarded opponent. Korroth closed his eyes and felt the aggression erupting from his opponent. It coiled around his arms, metal and flesh, wrenching the muscles to deliver the final blow. The Jedi guided the Force into his opponent’s limbs and, like lava flowing into the sea, the Knight’s muscles near-solidified.

The Sith’s eyes went wide; his will said cut him down but his saber was still above his head. Korroth de-ignited his own saber. He thrust one hand up to catch his opponent’s wrists, and the other he drove knuckles-first into the Knight’s throat, the muscles of his shoulder and arm contracting with a power only the Force could achieve.

The Sith fell onto his back, a strangled croak escaping his lungs. The crimson lightsaber switched off and clattered to the floor. Korroth ignored his opponent and turned around to the stone surface. It was a sarcophagus, engraved all around with skeletal, contorted humanoid figures. The dark nexus in the Force cascaded into this spot; the Jedi was certain of its contents. He pushed on the lid and it shifted by an inch.

“Jedi, turn,” a whisper in Korroth’s mind, a cold breath on the nape of his neck. “Turn around and destroy him while he still struggles for breath. Kill him and dance on his bones.”

The Odanite shook his head and put his weight on the lid. It grated aside bit by bit.

“Take me to your Clan, I will give you the power to defeat the Dark Brotherhood. Odan-Urr will annihilate the Sith once and for all!”

At last the lid tipped over and crashed down on the other side of the sarcophagus. Inside, clutched in the mummified hands of a pureblood Sith, was a ruby-glowing pyramidal object. Korroth reached down for it, but behind him a lightsaber droned to life.

“Halt!” The Knight’s voice was hoarse, but steady.

The Odanite raised his arms and turned around, his lightsaber hilt still in his hand. The crimson blade of the Tarenti hovered in front of the Jedi’s chest. The holocron was well within the reach of Korroth’s lightsaber. Its fate was in his hands, and his fate was in the hands of the Tarenti. But the latter had made one miscalculation.

My life is in the hands of the Force, the thought flashed through the Jedi’s mind. He thumbed the ignition switch. The emerald blade spilled downward from its hilt—and into the holocron. Simultaneously the red blade drove through the Jedi’s ribcage and opened his heart.

Solas let the inert body of the Pau’an crumple onto the sarcophagus. He stared for a moment at the smouldering holocron. Its crystal shapes were cracked and melted, its golden frame buckled. His gaze went back to the Jedi’s body, and he raised his weapon. The blade flashed down, followed by an agonised howl, and the Pau’an’s bald head rolled off the lip of the sarcophagus onto the floor.

The action was not as cathartic as he had hoped. The Knight turned and headed for the temple’s exit. Now came the difficult part—to return to Tarentum with empty hands.