Bright Shadow Chapter 1

Previous chapter: ***Prologue***

***Chapter 1 - Foundations of Vengeance***

Archaic statues and ancient architecture collapsed and crumbled under the Republic fire and crushed the Imperial citizens fleeing from the great battle. The history of the Sith was wiped away in one fell swoop as the Republic launched its largest assault ever against the holy Sith planet. Burning bodies and debris of all shapes and sizes flew in all directions as the Jedi and Sith engaged in Korriban’s bloodiest battle in centuries. The irony was not lost on the Imperial forces. Seeing the art and craft of their forefathers being demolished easily was symbolically humiliating. Like a child tearing down a sand castle, Republic starfighters broke through the heavy Sith defences and bombarded the Sith encampments from above, paving the way for Jedi warriors to simply walk in and cut the surviving Sith Lords down. There was no honour to be found in this battle, even amongst the Jedi. Only empty vengeance.

The battle was not a lost cause for the Sith. The age-long siege had been the ultimate test of endurance for the dark warriors and they were all stronger for it. Masses of Jedi still fell at the feet of even the least skilled Sith minions. Undaunted by the seemingly impossible odds, they fought on against the endless onslaught of Jedi and Republic soldiers.

Amongst the many dark warriors that dominated the battlefield, one man stood above all else leading the defence against the Jedi. A big man, towering well above six foot. He stood his ground against a tidal wave of Jedi, something that would send most Lords of the Sith fleeing for their lives. But this was no ordinary Sith Lord. This was Lord Zhen. And he would stop them.

Zhen wore the standard robes of a Sith Lord, mostly black but partially tinted with red trims, showing only the slightest hint of colour. He had tattoos of striking crimson running down both his eyes and over his bald head, like two great serpents had embedded themselves into his skull.

He stood fast against the oncoming Jedi on the edge of a cliffside, standing alongside another Sith Lord and several Imperial soldiers. The soldiers were shaken and worn out and did not have the stamina of a Sith like Zhen. They could barely hold their blaster rifles up as they fired almost aimlessly at the sea of Jedi and Republic troops charging at them.

A shuttle had arrived to pick up the soldiers, but a family of Imperial citizens stood next to them, begging to be let on the transport and away from the battle. The soldiers, naturally, had rejected their pleas for help and demanded that the shuttle’s pilot take off without them. To their dismay, the pilot told them they would have to wait for the two Sith that were still fighting off the avalanche of Jedi. Zhen knew something had to be done to hold back the Jedi onslaught, and so called upon the full volatility of the dark side. He infused the power of his lightsaber with it, blessing the blade with a red electrical current. As one of the Jedi descended upon the man, all he had to do was hold his ground and let the wonders of the dark side do its job. The instant the Jedi’s blade of plasma made contact with Zhen’s lightsaber, the red current of dark side energy ignited, creating a wave of power that sent every Jedi and Republic soldier flying back a hundred metres or more. The battlefield had been almost completely emptied of Republic warriors. Those unlucky enough to survive were cut down by the ecstatic Sith minions who ran across the battlefield like playful children, striking down any surviving Jedi with sadistic glee on their faces.

Exhausted from his use of the Blade Bomb, Zhen collapsed to one knee, his head sunken and his fingers weak from the effort he had put into defending his position.

The other Sith Lord continued to hold the position against the last Jedi knight, who was quickly struck down by the man. He then ran over to Zhen and picked him up by the arm.

“Get up, Zhen. There’s more fight in you yet," the Sith Lord said encouragingly.

“We don't have any time, Darth Kysus. We must get the people onto the transports- ,” Zhen began to say before being interrupted by Kysus.

“Oh, forget the people, Zhen. Just get the last soldiers onto the ship and let's get the hell out of here!” shouted Kysus as another wave of Jedi approached the two Sith Lords. Kysus ran ahead to engage the second wave of foes as Zhen looked at the family of Imperials; a father, a mother and two children. They couldn’t have been both older than the age of five, each holding onto the clutching arms of their parents. The mother cried so loudly that Zhen could hear her, even over the sounds of the battle that surrounded him, as she continued to beg the soldiers to let her family onto the transports.

Zhen looked back at Kysus, who was already almost finished dealing with the new wave of Jedi knights, easily dispatching them with his duel lightsabers. Zhen was not a Darth. He had not yet achieved the prestige of being named *Darth Zhen* and suspected it would be a long time before that honour would arrive to him.

But that could change, Zhen would think to himself as he sees his master distracted by the Jedi attackers. Kysus was one of the twelve Dark Council members; a skilled warrior and a formidable terror on the battlefield. There was a reason they called him "Master of Blades". His Sith clothing looked like something out of a nightmare; deadly sharp spikes ran down his arms and shoulders and he wore a grey, horned helmet fashioned from the scales of a Krayt Dragon. Everyone, even the other Sith Lords, feared him and the attacking Jedi felt that fear in their last moments as Kysus struck them down. But Zhen knew his master was, at heart, a weakling. He, like many of other Sith, was part of the Empire’s rotten core. Kysus was not motivated by the betterment of the Empire, like Zhen was, but personal gain. He would let the citizens of the Empire, the fuel of the Sith war machine, die just so that he could satisfy his own ego. So Zhen decided what had to be done. If he was seen, he would be executed for treason. As Kysus finished killing the last of the Jedi warriors, he turned around to give Zhen new orders, only to see his apprentice impale him with his lightsaber. A small gap between Kysus’ thick armour provided Zhen with enough room to fit his lightsaber through and extinguish the life of his now former master. Kysus, shocked and dying, could only make out one word;

“Traitor…”

Zhen would not say a word as he pushed Kysus off the edge of the cliff and sent him tumbling down into the mix of the battle below, likely killing a few fighters with his heavy, spiked armour.

Feeling a newfound adrenaline flow through his body, Zhen approached the soldiers on the shuttle, all of whom were in shock at his betrayal of Kysus. He reached out with the Force and chucked them out of the transport, sending them tumbling along the sandy ground.

“Get off that shuttle you lazy dogs! You have a job to do! Hold back the Jedi as I get these people into the ship," he shouted angrily at the men.

“But, sir…” complained one of the soldiers.

“Do you really want to follow in Kysus' footsteps?" Zhen bawled at the defiant soldier. “Or do you wanna do as you're told and live?”

The soldier needed no extra motivation. “Y-Yes sir. R-Right away sir," he said trembling.

As the soldiers held off a third wave of Republic attackers, Zhen turned to face the family of Imperials, fear totally encompassing their faces.

“Well don't just sit there! Get on the damn shuttle!” he bellowed to the family as they all obediently did as they were told, the father thanking Zhen as he boarded the shuttle with his family. Zhen beckoned the shuttle pilot to take off and he returned to the fight. As the transport left the area with the Imperial family safely onboard, he and his new squadron held back the waves of Republic soldiers, bodies continued to pile up on the cliffside as the battle raged across the Valley.

Several miles away from Zhen and the main battle, was the village of Malcivum. A town of utter importance to the Sith; the village would usually be a secret supplying ground for the Empire, fuelling their mighty war machine. However, during the battle, that small village had been used as a staging ground and drop off point for Sith warriors and their troops. Avoiding the endless barrage of cannon fire from the Republic Star Destroyers, shuttles dropped off the Imperials to allow them to travel to the battle without being obliterated by the superior firepower of the Republic.

Much like Darth Kysus, the Sith being delivered in the village ignored the pain and suffering of the civilians. Many families have been ripped apart, often literally, by the planetary bombardments. While this village was overall not a concern to the Sith warriors, it was home to one particular individual: a small boy that ran through the village aimlessly, attempting to find his parents. A mere spec in the grand scale of the battle, every soldier and warrior that walked past him didn’t even acknowledge his presence.

“Mama!... Papa!” shouted the boy caught in the mix of fleeing civilians and advancing soldiers headed to the main battle. Vycerant, no older than 12, searched endlessly in the crowd for his displaced parents. In his hands he grasped a toy Korr-Wolf, a child’s mockery of Korriban’s most vicious predator. He sported the trademark red skin of the Sith pureblood species, with tiny undeveloped bone spurs dotting out of his chin and temple. His thin, black hair covered his forehead and ran down to his eyebrows. The boy’s clothes were ragged and torn, ripped at the seams and frayed beyond repair. His crimson, bare feet dragged along the sandy ground, leaving tiny footprints that were quickly swept away by the dozens upon dozens of panicking people that surrounded him.

The boy was knocked down by an ecstatic Sith minion running towards the battle. Forced to crawl along the sandy ground, Vycerant continued to cry out for his parents. The building next to him disintegrated from the atmospheric bombardment, sending pieces of heavy concrete falling onto the people down below. The boy’s frozen, terrified face replaced any scream that he would have otherwise emitted.

Suddenly fate intervened, and a female Dark Lord used her immense power in the Force to hold the debris of the building in the air, preventing it from crushing herself and the many civilians surrounding her. Vycerant stared at the woman, barely getting a clear look at her due to the amount of rubble surrounding him. He could only make out that the woman was the same species as he was; the crimson Sith skin was unmissable. The woman dropped the remains of the destroyed building and nonchalantly continued on her way towards the battle. Vycerant knew instinctively that she only caught the debris to save her own skin and was clearly indifferent about the wellbeing of the Imperial citizens around them.

And that is when Vycerant saw them.

His parents, Harkus and Talia, were lying dead on the scorched surface, the red sands of Korriban blending with their blood and half burying them in the ground. Vycerant dropped to his knees and let out a cry of anguish at the revelation of his parent’s deaths. His eyes welled up with tears and the red of his iris burned brightly like the fires that surrounded him. He looked up to the sky and screamed again, this time unleashing something beyond his comprehension.

Every person for ten metres around him were pushed back by a wave of unnatural energy emitted by the boy. Imperial civilians were thrown in the air in all directions. Even the Sith minions were caught off guard by the boy’s explosion of energy and were sent tumbling away from him. The Imperials did not have enough time or attention to care about the strange occurrence. They had either assumed that it was an explosion from an orbital bombardment or they were simply desensitised to seeing unusual things happen on the strange Sith planet. Regardless, everyone kept moving; the Sith continued towards the battle and the civilians continued away from it.

Vycerant, having been drained of his energy from his very first use of the Force, collapsed in between the corpses of his parents, his clothes sandy and bloodied. He had just enough time to look up and see an enormous fleet of Imperial battle cruisers arrive out of hyperspace and engage the attacking Republic fleet. Vycerant never saw it, but the Sith fleet were able to break the Republic blockade and force the enemy star-destroyers out of the system.

The battle was brutal, but for the first time in one hundred years, the Sith Empire had won.

Next Chapter: **Chapter 2 - Plume of Smoke**

Copyright Jacob Burbidge 2019