Visiting the Dead

[Joslae]

Korriban. The sun was setting over the edge of the valley, leaving the deep gouge in darkness from the early dusk. Despite the lack of sunlight the air was hot and dry, Korriban was in its summer season around Horuset and large swathes of the planet were being cooked daily. The various canyons, valleys, caves, and Imperial structures were some of the few reliefs from the midday heat. Joslae rarely comes to this part of Korriban, it never held interest for her and she disliked it's nature, but now she feels utterly compelled to walk the Valley of the Dark Lords. Far behind her the Sith Academy was a distant point, the noise of its shuttles becoming quiet and muted from distance and the curious turns of the Valley. 

She's approaching her destination now, a large relief cut into the valley wall, ancient flagstones lead to a portal flanked by massive statues of ancient Sith. Each statue was multiple times her own height, and while time had weathered them, both were clearly of antiquity matching other designs seen in other parts of the Valley. Between the statues was a round door made from spirals within spirals, resembling some form of impressionist depiction of the galaxy with a face at its center, the false mask holding its lips still and the eyes dead and empty. In the shadows of the statues, just on the edge of Joslae's perception are two silhouettes wearing long robes and pointed helmets of shimmering black; they were easily identifiable as Darth Horuset's guards, often seen in the family's estate or flagship so their presence here was a stark reminder of her own presence. They do not react to Lord Saltaeon.

Joslae looks up into those vacant eyes, she feels the Dark Side here, something about it makes her nervous. The eyes flash red and the door begins to open, spiral sections unraveling into the great stone walls; the door removes itself and leaves a long hallway leading into the carved stone of Korriban, four statues flanking the procession. Walking inside brings a feeling of being nauseous, its source was presently unknown but flickers of shapes and the hint of whispering begins to manifest at the edge of Joslae's conscious perception. The tomb is illuminated dimly however no source of the light can be found in ceilings or walls or floors, the illumination is just there. Passing under the gaze of the first four statues Joslae quickly comes to the first room, an antechamber of sorts, with new statues though each of these are unique and made to resemble a figure of history, identified by engravings on the pedestal at their feet. There is Krassus, the first Lorekeeper, slim of figure and gaunt of face. There is Nadia Vandara, a female Sith Lord with pure heritage. There is Chul Horuset, the first Darth Horuset, his eyes picked out as rubies. And there was Caadu Horuset, his face depicted in a violent war cry, seeming like he could jump to life at any second. It's just now that Joslae feels her consciousness clear, the shapes and whispers are gone, but she also feels cold and unnaturally so, she pulls a heavy robe around her tighter, it hugs close to her form but helps little.

Looking around Joslae realizes she doesn't know where to go, there's no certain way forwards. The room seems slightly larger now, with new statues she hadn't noticed though none compare to the great historical figures she saw first. She feels unwanted, like a trespasser in a hallowed place. The statues are watching her, there are guardians in armor watching from the shadows. But damn them all, they were dead and she was alive and here with the express consent of their descendant. If the dead were so strong then they wouldn't be dead, they would be able to stop her. But Joslae has not stopped, she still has a purpose still. She knows where she needs to go.

Walking forwards there is a new passageway that wasn't there before, or it was and the Dark Side concealed it, much of what happened on Korriban was down to trickery. One just has to figure it out. She's walking a new hallway now, it was still dimly lit and featured many statues but she doesn't much care for them. There's just one she needs, and it's far away. The one she seeks is new and untouched by age. It is in a niche at the terminus of the passage, though there is room for plenty more. Joslae stops at the pedestal, looking at the ground and slowly building up the confidence to look at who she came to find. 

Red stone carved into the shape of long robes, a metal rod crafted to resemble a hook topped can held in both hands, soft features and swept back hair with a hanging braid. The pedestal clearly read this man's identity: "Valeus Vexal Horuset-Saltaeon. Lorekeeper of House Horuset. Sith Tarimira. Follower of the Old Ways. Died in combat against traitors, 27 ATC." It's him, come to life again. Or close to it. He's too large of course, his damaged hand looked different, his tendrils weren't that long. Perhaps this could have been him, but this is just an artist's rendition.

"I'm sorry it took me so long to come here. I'm sorry I had to come at all." She's alone, she can afford to say how she truly feels today. Taking a deep breath, getting ready to continue, looking at the statues dead eyes.

"It's been nearly a year now. Zikarn killed himself. I killed Elias, I crushed him, he left some scars on me." The cold air on the burn scar on her face makes it feel raw, feel fresh. "But it wasn't enough. I wanted to capture his spirit, to torture him until there was nothing left. He didn't deserve to die, he deserved to suffer for an eternity and more. But I couldn't do it, there was nothing left of him. Nothing left of you."

Joslae swallows her words, taking a few seconds to think. Her teeth grind. What was she feeling? Anger? Grief? Nothing felt right, it was too confusing.

"I should have acted faster, I should have stopped it before it began. You should be here with me now, you should still be at my side. If the Force controls all then why did it take you from me? What is the lesson here?" Her voice is rising, her choler back at the surface. "Why did you have to be taken from me?! Why do I deserve this?!"

Leaning forwards, resting hands on the pedestal her head sinks. "I wasn't strong enough to protect you, who am I strong enough to protect? Who needs me? You'd know what to say, you'd know what to do."

Joslae falls into a painful silence, she thinks she can hear her own words echoing in the tomb. She hates that, hates hearing her weakness repeated back to her. "I've been offered a way to keep your line alive, but I don't know if I can do it. I don't know if I want to." 

For a long time she rests her forehead against the robe shaped stone. Long enough that it makes her skin feel sore with the pressure, and she feels tired from the exposure to the tomb. Standing up she wipes at her eyes with the back of her hand. They were dry but she felt like she needed to do it anyway. Looking up at the stone eyes that don't look back at her she chokes on her words and quickly turns away. It's not a long walk back to the entrance.

"I'm sorry. My Phoenix, my love. I am sorry."