(A/N: Hello all you beautiful souls. I felt a little bad yesterday about the confusion I caused with the double release of a normal chapter, as well as a "promotional" chapter for my original work. I guess I felt like I was kinda taking advantage of all of you in a way, so as an apology, here's an extra chapy for the week.
Please leave me a review if you haven't, and leave me a comment on this chapter telling me what you liked and didnt like.
I'm always looking to improve my writing, and my stories, so please tell me what you think!)
===Kharath===
Kharath stood with his arms folded, gazing out across the burning city before him. He had learned that this city was called Keren, a major trade hub on the planet Naboo.
At his feet, the city lord writhed in pain as one of Kharath's subordinates toyed with him, testing new spells and chaos-tainted abilities to gauge their strength.
Kharath was unimpressed. So far, the humans of this galaxy had proven weak.
"Pathetic," the nameless sorcerer muttered, finally releasing the man from his torment.
"For the last time, I ask you—tell me of this planet," Kharath demanded, his tone cold. "Answer, and I will let you live."
The city lord gasped for air, his face twisted in pain, his body trembling from the lingering effects of the dark magic. His eyes darted nervously from Kharath to the sorcerer, but his lips remained sealed.
Kharath's eyes narrowed, his patience wearing thin. He stepped forward, the heat of the flames from the burning city casting an eerie glow across his armored figure. "I have all the time in the world to torment you," he said, his voice low and dangerous.
The city lord flinched, but still, he hesitated. Kharath could almost taste his fear, the uncertainty in his heart. But there was something else—something deeper. The man was more afraid of revealing his world's secrets than of dying.
Kharath raised a hand, and the sorcerer beside him immediately began muttering an incantation. Dark energy crackled through the air, wrapping around the lord's limbs like tendrils of shadow.
"Tell me, or I will make you wish for death," Kharath warned, his voice turning colder, more menacing. The city lord's eyes widened in terror, but still, he stayed silent.
Kharath turned to the sorcerer. "Increase the pressure."
The sorcerer nodded, raising his hands. The shadows around the lord's body tightened, squeezing the air from his lungs. He gasped, his eyes rolling back in his head. Kharath watched impassively, his arms still folded. He had no sympathy for these fragile creatures.
With a strangled sob, the city lord finally spoke. "The planet... it's controlled by... by the Queen! She governs from Theed... the capital city, but… she's… she's off world... Please... I know nothing else..." His voice cracked, his body shaking uncontrollably.
Kharath smirked, stepping back. "That wasn't so difficult, was it?"
He gave a nod to the sorcerer, who reluctantly released the lord from his torment. The man crumpled to the ground, gasping for breath, barely able to move.
Kharath's lips curled into a slight, satisfied smile. The city lord had given him just what he needed—information on the planet's ruler. It was a good lead. But the man had outlived his usefulness.
"End him," Kharath ordered, his voice cold and deliberate.
Without hesitation, the sorcerer stepped forward, raising his hands as dark energy swirled around him. The air grew heavy with the presence of forbidden magic. The city lord, barely able to lift his head, glanced up at Kharath one last time, his eyes pleading for mercy.
But mercy was a concept foreign to Kharath.
"You promised!" The city lord exclaimed, fear in his eyes.
Kharath just snorted. "I lied."
With a swift motion, the sorcerer released a bolt of dark energy, engulfing the city lord. The man's body convulsed as the magic burned through him, and within moments, he was reduced to nothing more than a pile of ash, scattered across the cobblestones.
Kharath turned away, unfazed by the death. The weak were meant to die. It was the strong who truly mattered.
As the sorcerer finished his task, Kharath stood in silence, watching the city burn in the distance. The weight of the moment settled over him. The death of the city lord had been swift and insignificant, yet it marked the beginning of something much larger.
He could feel the pulse of power growing within him, and the need to take it further—to move past petty skirmishes and begin one of the tasks his God had given him. To find the one named Sidious.
Kharath turned to face his sorcerers, both standing at attention, awaiting his next order. He considered them for a moment, calculating his next move.
"I will leave this planet with one of you," Kharath announced, his voice sharp, his decision made.
He turned his gaze to the sorcerer on the left, who was slightly taller, more composed than the other. "You will accompany me," Kharath commanded. "We will leave this planet, and I will make contact with the one named Sidious."
The sorcerer bowed deeply, acknowledging the order.
Kharath then turned to the other sorcerer, who stood a little farther back, his expression unreadable behind his helmet. "You will stay," Kharath said coldly. "Conquer this world. Show me your strength. Leave no resistance standing. This planet will fall, and when I return, I expect it to be kneeling before me."
The sorcerer nodded, his eyes burning with ambition.
Kharath felt his dark magic swirling around him, ready to transport them to the capital where he would find more about this Queen, and about Sidious.
===
Kharath appeared in the heart of Theed, the dark tendrils of his teleportation magic dissipating as the air around him crackled with energy. The capital city was beautiful, a sharp contrast to the destruction of Keren, but beauty meant nothing to Kharath. He was here for power—Sidious was the key, and he would take it, no matter what.
Ahead of him, a group of figures walked leisurely through the city—Viceroy Nute Gunray, flanked by a platoon of battle droids and the slim, ever-watchful form of Rune Haako, Gunray's trusted aide. The Viceroy's eyes widened at the sight of Kharath's dark presence, his body language betraying his uncertainty.
Gunray's eyes widened in shock as the Chaos Marine approached, his usual smugness replaced with wary curiosity. His sharp gaze flicked over Kharath's dark armor and the aura of menace that radiated from him.
"You... you are not from the Federation," Gunray croaked, his voice shaky. His alien features twisted in unease. "Who are you, and what business do you have on Naboo?"
Kharath's gaze swept over the group without any hint of recognition. The Viceroy, the droids, Haako—none of them mattered. The only thing that mattered was Sidious. He could feel the faint connection to the Sith Lord in the Viceroy's presence, but he didn't care about titles or allegiances. Gunray was a tool. Nothing more.
"I need to speak with Sidious," Kharath's voice rumbled low, like a growl. "You will take me to him."
Gunray looked lost, his gaze flicking between Kharath and his platoon of droids. "I... I don't understand," he stammered, his voice rising in panic.
Kharath's eyes narrowed as he stepped forward, his pace deliberate, as though the air itself grew thicker with every step. The battle droids tensed, their blasters raised, and Haako watched quietly, calculating. None of them made a move yet.
"I do not care," Kharath said, his voice like the hiss of a blade being drawn. "I feel your connection to Sidious. You will show me how to contact him."
As Kharath took another step, a wave of power surged from his body. The droids immediately raised their blasters, but Kharath's sorcerers, who had followed him through the rift, were already in action. One raised a hand, and the sky seemed to darken for a moment, as dark energy lanced out, shredding the droids into mere sparks and fragments. The remaining droids collapsed, their metal bodies twisted and broken.
Gunray's eyes bulged as the destruction unfolded, but he barely had time to react before Kharath's hand shot forward, gripping him by the throat. Gunray's breath was choked off, his hands clawing at Kharath's unyielding fingers as the Viceroy was lifted into the air.
"You will take me to Sidious. I feel the connection between you and him. I know you can help me."
Gunray gasped, his hands clawing at Kharath's wrist, trying to pry his fingers loose. But Kharath's grip was ironclad, unyielding. His optics burned with dark energy, and he slowly increased the pressure. The Viceroy's face turned red, then purple as he fought for breath.
"I... I can't!" Gunray managed to choke out, his voice desperate. "I can't help you! I don't know how to contact him!"
Kharath's face twisted with disdain. "You lie," he hissed, his voice like ice. "I will make you speak. You'll tell me how to contact Sidious, or I will rip the answer from you."
With a sudden, violent motion, Kharath slammed the Viceroy into the stone pavement before his armored boot came crashing down on Gunray's chest, being sure to hold back. The force of the impact left the Viceroy gasping for air, coughing violently, his body trembling from the shock.
"Pathetic," Kharath sneered, his voice dripping with contempt. "You think I'll tolerate your defiance? I will break you."
He didn't give Gunray a moment to recover. With a brutal kick, Kharath sent the Viceroy skidding across the stone, leaving a trail of blood as Gunray's fragile body slammed into a pillar. Gunray wheezed, his mouth opening and closing in an attempt to breathe, but his body was weak, struggling to obey.
Kharath stepped forward again, his boots echoing with each step. Gunray's wide, terrified eyes were fixed on him, pleading silently for mercy. But Kharath felt no mercy, only hunger—hunger for power. And the Viceroy was nothing more than a vessel, one that needed to be crushed before it gave him what he wanted.
Kharath crouched down in front of Gunray, his faceplate inches from the Viceroy's face, his breath cold. "Tell me, now, or I will make you scream until your lungs give out."
Gunray's whole body trembled under the threat. He could barely speak, his voice a raspy whisper, "Please... I can't... I don't know how to reach him."
The Viceroy's weak words did nothing but grow Kharath's anger. With one hand, Kharath grabbed Gunray by the face, forcing his head back as he summoned a jagged, sharp shard of dark energy from his other hand. The black, crackling energy hovered ominously before pressing into Gunray's forehead.
Gunray's body went rigid as the dark energy burned against his skin, and he screamed in agony, his hands gripping Kharath's wrist in a futile attempt to push the energy away. The smell of burnt flesh and ozone filled the air as the shard pierced his skin.
"Enough!" Gunray's voice was a broken, strangled sob. "I'll tell you! I have a comms unit—please! I'll give it to you!"
Kharath's lips curled into a wicked grin. "Good. You've made the right choice."
With a brutal motion, Kharath released the Viceroy's face and shoved him roughly onto his back, the Viceroy gasping for air as his body spasmed in pain. Kharath turned to look over his shoulder, where his two sorcerers had taken care of the droids.
The nameless sorcerers had moved to deal with the remaining threat: Rune Haako. The tall aide's posture was one of unreadable calm, but the moment the sorcerers focused on him, he froze, sensing the danger. He began to back away slowly, but it was too late. One sorcerer raised a hand, a wave of dark energy encircling Haako before he could react. The ground cracked beneath his feet as tendrils of shadow wrapped around him, lifting him off the ground.
"Stay still, creature," the sorcerer commanded coldly, tightening his grip on Haako.
Haako struggled, but the energy kept him paralyzed, and he was soon forced to his knees, helpless before the sorcerers.
Kharath turned back to Gunray, who was clutching his chest, his face pale and bloodied. The Viceroy's voice trembled as he reached for his belt and pulled out the comms unit, offering it to Kharath with shaking hands.
"Please..." Gunray whimpered, his voice weak. "Take it. Just don't kill me."
Kharath snatched the comms unit from Gunray's hand with one quick motion, the Viceroy's face filled with a mix of relief and terror.
"You will die soon," Kharath said coldly, his eyes narrowing. "But not yet. Not until I've spoken to Sidious."
Gunray's body shook, his mind a jumble of fear and confusion. "Please... spare me... I'll do whatever you want. Just don't..."
Kharath turned away, ignoring him before activating the comms unit, his gaze fixed on the device. The air around him hummed with anticipation as a connection was established. Gunray's pleading was drowned out by the crackling static, and Kharath's dark voice echoed through the comms.
"Sidious," Kharath said, his voice as cold and unforgiving as the abyss.
"I have come at my God's command."
===
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===Palpatine===
Palpatine sat in his office, brooding over the Queen's decision to return to Naboo. She was more foolish than he had anticipated, but it would only serve to further his plans. He smiled to himself, a dark thought forming in his mind.
"How interesting…" he muttered, just as his comms began beeping. It was his secure line, meaning Viceroy Gunray wished to speak with him.
A surge of displeasure flared within him, though he quickly concealed it, pressing a button under his desk that plunged his office into darkness. Rising from his chair, he placed his hood over his face and accepted the transmission.
"What is th—"
He was suddenly interrupted, his words cut off as a towering figure appeared on the hologram. The figure was clad in white, green, and golden armor, exuding an air of menace and power. The moment he spoke, Palpatine was taken aback.
"Sidious, I have come at my God's command," the figure's voice rumbled, deep and distorted, sending an eerie chill down Palpatine's spine. It was as if something ancient and unnatural was brushing against the back of his mind, a presence that both unsettled and intrigued him.
Palpatine's eyes narrowed beneath his hood as he studied the figure. The towering armored figure exuded an aura of power that even the Sith Lord could feel. His dark optics glinted with an unsettling certainty, and Palpatine's instinct told him that this being was not only formidable but unpredictable.
"You are... bold," Palpatine said, his voice calm but carrying an edge of caution. "And clearly mistaken if you think you can simply address me in such a manner."
Kharath's stance remained unwavering, the crackling energy around him almost palpable, like a storm ready to break. His gaze bore into the screen with a predatory intensity.
"Bold?" Kharath repeated, his voice deep and rumbling with the resonance of something older, darker. "I come to offer you something far more valuable than you can imagine."
Palpatine's fingers twitched slightly, though his expression remained unreadable. He had learned long ago to mask his thoughts, to conceal the depths of his mind, but the presence before him stirred something far deeper than he cared to acknowledge.
"You are not the first to seek power," Palpatine said, each word deliberate.
Kharath's laugh was low and terrifying, as if he were amused by a mere mortal's naivety. "You misunderstand me, Sidious. I do not seek your power. I seek to teach you something greater. You think you command the darkness, but you are only a shadow of what true power can be."
Palpatine's lips curled into a cold smile, but inside, he could feel a flicker of unease. The way Kharath spoke… the certainty in his words, the authority that radiated from him—it was unlike anything he had encountered. Sidious was no stranger to power, yet this being was different, almost otherworldly.
"I've commanded the forces of the Dark Side for decades," Palpatine said slowly, "What could you possibly offer me that I do not already control?"
Kharath's optics gleamed with ancient knowledge, his voice now a rasping whisper. "You wield a fraction of the darkness, Sidious. A mere reflection of what is possible. My God has granted me mastery over sorceries beyond your comprehension. I can show you how to reshape reality itself, how to manipulate life and death."
The implication of Kharath's words struck like lightning, and Palpatine's thoughts raced. He had always believed in his superiority, in the meticulous control he had over the galaxy and the dark forces that bound it. But Kharath—this being before him—spoke of something far more… ancient. And far more dangerous.
"You speak of sorceries," Palpatine said slowly, "as though they are mere tools to be wielded. You are not the first to claim such mastery. None have ever succeeded in truly transcending the Dark Side. Power like that comes at a price."
Kharath's gaze sharpened, his voice growing colder, more forceful. "The price is nothing compared to the power you would gain. I have walked paths that you cannot even fathom, Sidious. I have harnessed the very essence of destruction, reshaped the fabric of existence. What I offer is beyond your petty rituals and schemes."
Sidious felt the hairs on the back of his neck prickle. This figure, this Kharath, was no mere pretender. His power was real, undeniable. But the Sith Lord would not be cowed so easily.
"You are dangerous," Palpatine said, his voice slipping into its familiar cadence, tinged with a quiet fury. "But you are also foolish if you think I would kneel to you. I am the master of the Sith, and I answer to no one."
Kharath's helmet tilted slightly, as though considering Palpatine's words. His posture remained perfect, unwavering.
"You misunderstand," Kharath replied, his voice now taking on an almost patronizing tone. "I do not ask you to kneel. I demand it. You will kneel before me, Sidious, and you will learn from me, or I will tear everything you've built apart. You cannot even begin to fathom the power I command, and yet I offer you the chance to learn, to rise to your full potential."
Palpatine's eyes narrowed dangerously. To demand that he kneel? The audacity of this being. But there was something about his presence, something undeniable in the way Kharath spoke, that made Sidious feel the first stirrings of doubt.
Kharath continued, his voice now laced with finality, "I will come to you, Sidious. I will teach you the ways of true sorceries, and you will become my disciple—or I will break you. The choice is yours."
The transmission flickered briefly as Kharath turned, signaling that the conversation was over. Sidious sat in his office, the darkness pressing in closer, the implications of the conversation swirling in his mind.
The audacity of this Kharath... demanding he kneel before him. Sidious had never been so challenged in his life. Yet, the power this figure spoke of, the mastery over destruction and sorcery—it was a temptation he could not ignore. Perhaps this Kharath was more than just a threat. Perhaps he was something Sidious could use.
The galaxy would see what happened when ambition met true power.
===Qui-Gon===
"I understand your concerns about the children, but you must recognize their potential. The boy is undoubtedly the Chosen One! You must see it!" Qui-Gon argued, standing before the Council.
Mace Windu leaned forward in his seat, his tone firm. "It seems you are not grasping our point."
"The girl lacks the necessary talent, and the boy is consumed by negative emotions. He is far too vulnerable to the dark side, let alone the fact that they are both too old."
Qui-Gon stood firm, his expression intense as he faced the Council. "I understand your reservations, but Anakin's potential cannot be ignored. He is the Chosen One, destined to bring balance to the Force. You cannot simply dismiss that!"
Mace Windu's gaze sharpened as he spoke again, his voice tinged with frustration. "And yet, you persist in your insistence, despite his emotional instability. The boy is filled with fear, anger—traits that lead down the path to the dark side."
Qui-Gon's eyes narrowed, but his voice remained calm. "Yes, he has fear, but that does not mean he will fall. The boy is simply misunderstood, and with proper guidance, he can learn to overcome these emotions. As for Nira, she does show promise, but it is Anakin who is of utmost importance. I believe the Force was guiding me to him."
The Council was silent for a moment, exchanging uneasy glances. Finally, Master Yoda spoke, his voice soft but firm.
"Enough. Clouds your judgment, this obsession does."
Qui-Gon's heart sank, but he stood his ground. "You cannot be serious. You would deny him his destiny?"
"We deny nothing," Mace Windu replied coldly. "But we will not allow your personal vision to dictate the future of the Jedi Order."
Qui-Gon's hands clenched into fists, but before he could respond, Master Ki-Adi-Mundi interrupted. "The matter of Anakin is settled, for now. However, your mission has changed, Qui-Gon. You are to go to Naboo with Queen Amidala."
The words hit Qui-Gon like a blow to the chest. "Naboo? But the boy—"
"Enough!" Master Windu barked, his voice echoing through the chamber. "You will go to Naboo and accompany the Queen. The political situation there is volatile, and the presence of the Astartes—these supersoldiers—has us concerned."
Qui-Gon's brow furrowed in confusion. "The Astartes? You believe they are a greater threat than the Sith?"
The Council members exchanged uneasy glances. Master Yoda spoke again, his voice grave. "A force like that... we have not seen in centuries. Their power, we cannot predict. Better you go, watch over the Queen, and learn what you can."
Qui-Gon's sense of duty weighed heavily on him, but he knew arguing further would be futile. The Council had made their decision. "I will go, Master," he said to Yoda, though his heart was still torn between his duty and his belief in Anakin's potential.
"Good," Mace Windu said, his voice still edged with finality. "And Qui-Gon... remember, there are forces at play far greater than you understand. Be cautious on Naboo."
With a heavy heart, Qui-Gon bowed his head in respect before turning to leave the Council chamber. His thoughts were consumed by the boy from Tatooine, the one he believed to be the Chosen One. But for now, his mission was clear. He would go to Naboo, watch over Queen Amidala, and keep an eye on the mysterious Astartes.
===
As Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan disembarked from the shuttle, they were met with the imposing sight of the massive platform where the Nubian ship awaited the delegation. One of the Astartes, Maximus, stood at the edge of the ship, silently observing them.
Nearby, Lyra comforted her daughter, Nira, who was still shaken from her performance before the Jedi Council. Despite her efforts to console her, Lyra couldn't help but feel a quiet relief—she was grateful that Nira's performance had faltered, as she feared her daughter would be taken from her.
"Enough," Qui-Gon said sharply, cutting off Obi-Wan's continued protest about Anakin's fate.
"We will speak of this no more," he added, his voice carrying an edge of finality, before turning toward the ship in a sour mood.
As he approached, the familiar, yet jarring sound of Jar Jar Binks's voice filled the air.
"Meesa goin' home! Meesa done wit' dis!" Jar Jar shouted, throwing his hands up in excitement.
Maximus, who had been silently watching the scene unfold, immediately stiffened at the sound of the Gungan's voice. His eyes narrowed, and a cold, threatening silence hung in the air. Without looking directly at Jar Jar, he spoke in a low, menacing tone. "Shut your mouth, alien, or I'll rip your tongue out of your head."
Jar Jar froze, eyes wide with panic, his usual clumsy demeanor giving way to genuine fear. The towering Astartes's voice carried an authority that was impossible to ignore, and the Gungan wisely fell silent, his ears drooping in submission.
Obi-Wan cast a sidelong glance at Qui-Gon, noting his master's discomfort but not speaking. Qui-Gon, for his part, merely sighed, rubbing his temples in frustration. He had little time for Jar Jar's antics, and Maximus's threat only added to the tension that seemed to follow the delegation.
As Maximus stepped onto the ship, the others followed in his wake, leaving Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan to deal with the increasingly awkward atmosphere. Jar Jar, now visibly subdued, followed them on board, still muttering to himself but keeping a respectful distance from the intimidating warrior.
Once on the ship, Qui-Gon turned to Obi-Wan, his voice softer, but tinged with the weight of their previous conversation. "We must focus on the mission, Obi-Wan. The fate of Naboo may be in our hands, but our attention must remain on what lies ahead,
Obi-Wan nodded, but his concern for Anakin remained clear in his eyes. "Understood, Master."
===
If you enjoyed this chapter, maybe consider leaving me with a couple of your power stones? I promise I'll take good care of them:)
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