Legacy of Darkness: Book 1 - Darkness Rising

Chapter 3: Killer

Peace is lie, there is only passion

Through passion, I gain strength

Through strength, I gain power

Through power, I gain victory

Through victory, my chains are broken.

Nox knew all about chains. A slave since the age of three, he had spent most of his life bound, shackled, and restrained. The masters had come and gone, like the seasons passing by, but the chains had always remained. He remembered the oath he had sworn: when he first set foot on Korriban. With the harsh desert winds blowing hot on his skin, the sun beating down on him in an unforgiving blaze, and the sensation of being as immersed in the Dark Side as a fish at the bottom of the ocean, he had vowed to do whatever it took to never be in chains again.

He had nearly despaired when he discovered that the Sith were as much in bondage as anyone else. Paranoia, honor, bloodlust, death, all were chains that the Sith unwittingly bound themselves with. The manacles were cushioned, and the links gilded, but they were chains nonetheless. But Nox would not remain bound, he refused to be. Only through ascending in power, far beyond that of his peers and rivals, could he break the chain of fear. Only by rising above the burden of morality and conscience, could he break the chain of honor. Only by conquering his carnal urges and being the wielder, not the weapon, could he break the chain of bloodlust. Only by shedding the mortal coil, and donning the mantle of immortality, could he break free of the last and greatest chain: death. It was only through power that he could break every chain that bound him: Power undeniable, power unspeakable, power unstoppable, power absolute.

Other sith also sought power, but they sought it out of greed and desire, lusting after it like a lover. Nox did not lust after power, he thirsted for it. He did not want power, he needed it. He needed it as much as he needed air, like plants needed rain, like the galaxy needed gravity to hold itself together. Only through constantly increasing his power, constantly ascending, could he ever be truly free.

Gathering the Force to him, he bent it to his will and let the power swell up within him. It became a rising tide of darkness that surged against the restraints that kept it barely in control. Reaching out with the Dark Side, he seized upon the essence of the prisoner chained at his feet. The Twi'lek screamed in pain as Nox unleashed the darkness in a mighty wave, trying to bind their souls together through the Force, to make the helpless being nothing more than an extension of himself, a vessel. The Dark Side, wild and savage, ripped into his victim's soul like a rampaging storm. Nox could feel himself straining as he tried desperately to control the unnatural powers he had summoned, but he was losing his grip. The Force began to shred and devour the essence of his victim, like a ravenous beast feasting on a kill. Nox could no longer hear the being's tormented screaming, so great was his focus in trying to reign in the power of the Dark Side, but try as he might he could not control it. As the foul energies shredded the Twi'lek's essence Nox felt a sudden spike of energy, but before he could react he was hit by an enormous blast of power, the wave lifting him off his feet. He had barely enough time to erect his Force armor before he was slammed into the stone wall with a resounding boom. He dropped to the ground, somehow able to land on his feet and not topple over onto his face, feeling as sore and bruised as if he had been trampled by a herd of Banthas. He knelt on his hands and knees, once more prostrate before the power of the Dark Side.

Utilizing the dark art of corruption, he repaired the minor damage to his internal organs and bruised muscles. Sinew and organic matter twisted beneath his skin, causing it to ripple and bulge as if there were living creatures moving around just beneath it. Dead tissue regenerated as if infected with a cancer, cells multiplying at unstable rates to replace the dead ones. The process through which the damage was repaired was even more painful than the damage itself, but in a different way. Even as Nox felt the damage to his body being repaired by the same unholy forces that had inflicted the damage, he felt a small part of himself die, the price that the Dark Side demanded. The branch of sith sorcery known as corruption allowed the practitioner to repair the body, but at the cost of the soul. Every time the power was used, it exacted a toll, feeding on the very essence of the practitioner in order to power the unholy restoration, corrupting that essence and consuming, piece by piece, whatever light remained in it. Those who practiced the art could live very long lives, but by the time entropy surpassed their ability to regenerate their dying tissue, there was nothing left of the being they had once been. They still had their mind of course, but the fires of passion that had once burned within them were all extinguished...leaving only the seething coals of a deep, abiding hatred. They were unable to feel anything else.