Galactic Center

38 ABY

The planet itself seemed to crackle ferociously as bright forks of lightning split the heavens, cracks tearing open ragged rifts in the soil while trees blazed and the wind howled. Out at sea, oceans raged, swirling. Since the dawn of time this world, in one form or another, had always lingered on the precipice between life and death, a constant in its eternal tranquility; now, the violence of the storm was all.

Nothing could stop it now. It tore through the vibrant forests, scorching the life-giving leaves, shredding plants and toppling mighty timbers. The storm was out of control, raging, burning.

This world had become death.

In the midst of this Chaos personified, a group stood looking out from the summit of a remote floating rock adrift in an ocean of stale air, witnessing the world shriveling back into the Void. And of that group, only Trevarus Caerick stared unflinchingly out toward the distant ocean, a wide, brilliant white smile on his face.

“The Culmination,” said the Oracle. “It has begun.”

He had come here for this reason, and this reason alone. Come here - to undo what had been done. A lifetime had passed since the Star Chamber’s oracle had first prophesied this day, a lifetime in which many had forgotten - but not Caerick nor his oft-maligned wanderers, whose pursuit of the Final Order had never faded. Nine years ago, his first apprentice had tried - albeit failed - to achieve ascendance on the ancestral home of the Rakatan Empire, but this time was different. And where Xanos Zorrixor - evermore and now keeping silent vigil at Trevarus’ right hand - had failed to usher in the Culmination, the other had had longer to prepare, more resources - an entire Brotherhood! - to direct, even if unknowingly, toward the ultimate goal: the Final Way.

On Antei, Lord Ashen had reached the final step - and now the Culmination rang out through the Force like a galactic tidal wave, tearing through the very fabric of great tapestry of creation and not even the vaunted farsight of the Grand Masters - including Lord Cotelin - had pierced the veil that had been thrown up in opposition to the dark sorceries and twisted rituals that the man who had been born Musashi Keibatsu had now stoked, kindled and nurtured for the past two years.

At Trevarus’ left, that same Grand Master’s cousin stood immovable and resolute; stone on which not even the end of all that had been known could move. The Oracle knew that resolve such as his would be needed in the times to come and he watched the boiling oceans, churning with the arcane energies that were being released, revealing shades, memories and other shadows of the netherworld.

Trevarus thought that he recognised some, from the great Alaiedon to the Lady Tiamat herself; it seemed that at this world’s End the dead had been woken from their slumber, and all had come to partake on this, the last day - the day that everything changed, the day whose echoes he had heard all those years ago, rippling back through history to lead him toward this moment and one certainty:

Faethor had been right all along.

FFC Final Way

Sepros Orbit

Orian System

The bridge was busy. Beings scurried here and there, taking readings or guiding vessels. Outside the view-ports a massive fleet had entered orbit around Sepros. A Khyron-class Star Destroyer, an Interdictor, and a mass of new fighters swept past from ship to ship. T-65 X-wings, B-wings, Scimitar assault bombers, RZ1 A-wings, Nu and Lambda class assault shuttles, and a pair of Gallofree transports joined the Clan’s stalwart XJ3 X-wings, TIE Defenders, TIE Advanceds, Y-wings and HLAF 500 fighters. It was a significant upgrade. The Clan had not taken the events at Tarthos lightly, nor the threats issued by other Clans and Houses.

The Neti looked at the holoprojection of the fleet that hovered before him. He could see in three dimensions the placement of each vessel as it moved around Sepros and shuttled between the planet and it’s Warhost moon. “Marshal Commander Macron Sadow. Report.”

The image of the ISD II faded out to be replaced by a phantom of the Proconsul’s floating head and shoulders. “ISD Two Harbinger here, Consul. She has finished repairs and has been returned to us hale and hearty.” The Adept grinned as he patted the bulkhead. “She is ready for red war. They all are, including the as-yet-unnamed big bruiser over there.” His image gestured at the Khyron-class Star Destroyer’s placement in space.

“Well done. We lost an MHJC, a Warrior gunship, our Z-95’s, several transports, our dropships, and a Marauder class corvette at Tarthos. Even so, with the new fleet and ground forces we are stronger than ever before. Regaining control of our system and the renewed revenue from mining, increased trade, and raw materials has paid off in spades.”

Macron’s image bowed. “Dark Jedi believe in raw power as well as skill. No one will ever humiliate our forces again in the same manner, as at Tarthos. We’ll all make damn sure of that. The new aerial units, tanks, troops, transports, shuttles, walkers and snipers have also arrived.” The mad Sith cackled, interlaced his fingers, and flexed them with cracks. “All planets report normal conditions, and Aedile Sonjie secured the remains of the base around Inos and has also secured the orbital area.”

“Excellent news. The system is pacified, and our populace is healthy, safe, fed, profitable, and highly motivated. Our revenues are higher than they have ever been, even under the Dlarit Corporation’s oversight.” His face flexed woodenly. “You have heard of the events at Antei?” Malik Sadow regarded the hologram of his Proconsul with quiet eyes. “What is your opinion, Alchemist?” The living tree waited patiently for the answer.

It was swift in coming.The Sith smacked his fist into an outstretched hand menacingly.“We answer the Grandmaster’s call, and support Lord Ashen. He is one of our own. A comrade, a leader, a blood brother- and a Sadow.” Macron scowled. “There is no other course. I’ll bet you fifty credits the entire Clan feels the same way.”

“You are correct. They do. We’re taking the fleet to go and support Grandmaster Ashen. Move the ten thousand super battle droids, or as many as we can carry into all available vessels. Consul Out.” The Neti turned to his aide. “See that the painting crew is ready for the new Khyron, Corvette, and Interdictor to be commissioned. We move out shortly.”