Xireon Jiren's unblinking, crystal-clear eyes scanned the endless wastes of Vjun. It was a ruined, terrible world, good now for very little, but one got the feeling that it had, at one point, been something more; that some cataclysmic event had led it into its current volcano-ridden fate.

The sound of noxious fumes buffeting the transparisteel viewport stirred Jiren from his reverie, like an eerie voice. Yes, the world was not unlike himself, in a way; he too bore the appearance of a man ruined by time and unfortunate happenstance, a form that hinted at his having once been closer to something... human.

The metaphor seemed altogether appropriate. Another sound reached his ears, causing him to turn around; the sound of a determined incantation being muttered by his student. As he turned, another of the mindless Massassi ran into the onslaught of his apprentice's spell. Its skin withered, becoming dark and ashen, before finally it fell to the ground, twitching but dead. "You can stop that, now," Xireon muttered in his raspy, whispering voice. "I believe you've mastered the spell."

"Oh, I'm just doing this for fun, now," she replied, hurling the dark energy of the spell into another of the warriors. Xireon only shrugged and turned back to the view of Vjun allotted by the installation's one viewport.

Yes, in addition to being the most twisted student he had ever tutored, Taja Loraan was also the most gifted. She'd personally requested to complete her training on this, the Emperor's private retreat world. Begrudgingly, Xireon had complied. Privately, he admitted this had been at least partially to get out from under the thumb of the so-called "Dark Lord", Sedriss Sadow.

Others revered him, but the Wraith of the Blade could not help but regard him as little more than an ignorant child.

And now, he was dead.

The communique from Vakhar Azkarel had not specified how, but surely enough, the essence of Sadow, heir to the throne of Dark Lord, had been wiped in its entirety from the galaxy. There was no sadness in Xireon's heart at this loss, nor was their guilt for having left the Dark Lord of the Sith to his own devices.

He did not need to be told how Sedriss had died, if indeed death was the end he'd met.

The boy had not been ready for the Lordship. Not powerful enough, not wise enough, to handle the pressures and privaledges of guiding the vision of all Sith. One way or another, he had delved too deeply into the dark arts with the resources left to him by his ancestors, and fallen upon his own sword.

Finally, Xireon turned back to his student. With a glance at her adversary, and a few stray words, he reached out in the dark side, its power flowing through him like a river filled with blood. With little effort, he reached out with the spell and tapped the Massassi's life force, the dark essence flooding it, corrupting it, and finally snuffing it.

Seemingly unharmed, but utterly dead, the cloned warrior fell to the ground. "That is enough," he said, as Taja shot him a venomous look.

"We have more important business at hand, Taja, than this time-wasting slaughter." She eyed him warily. "Reach out your feelings. The Dark Lord of the Sith is dead -- the fucking fool has choked on his own bile. You must have sensed this. The time of the Dark Circle is coming to an end; our band of Sith is falling, listing in space without direction. The time has come to make a decision. Do you know what I am talking about?"

Taja's lips pressed together lightly to form a soft pout, her brows furrowing with disdain at her Master's premature ending of the Massassi warrior's life -- and, consequently, her gruesome training exercise, which happened to double as one of her few outlets for fun on this dying planet. It was a rare occurrence indeed when she could successfully escape ('ignore' was a more appropriate term, rather) from the maddening cries of Bast's ethereal denizens, and she intended on making the most out of it.

Once Xireon was done speaking, she again lowly murmured a few words under her breath (although, these were of just a slightly more derogatory nature than any potential hex), then lowered herself to her knees beside the still form. The cadaver instantly rose several feet above the ground from where it had fallen, its head drooping and arms limp, much like a marionette; then, just as if a puppeteer were orchestrating its movements, it began to writhe and contort violently, its limbs twisting in the most aberrant (and, had it only been alive, painful) manner.

She knew of Lord Sedriss' passing, oh yes -- it wouldn't have been possible for the Empath to bar an event so momentous from her mind even if she had wished it. Nevertheless, it made little difference to her; the news of his disappearance had come shortly after her admittance into the ranks of The Dark Circle and, simply put, she just didn't care enough. In any case, Taja's main allegiance was to her Master first, and he didn't seem altogether devastated by the loss either... quite on the contrary.

At long last, having grown bored of the fleeting entertainment provided by the convulsing warrior, the Apprentice directed her glance towards Xireon, her head canted to the side. The expression of sheer, almost childlike amusement plastered across her features now shifted to one of feigned consideration, and during that instant, the body ceased its sporadic movements and hung lifelessly, suspended in mid-air.

"Slaughter that doesn't waste time ?" she offered airily after a lingering pause, as the now malformed figure of the Massassi descended to the ground with a sickening crunch, whatever few remaining bones within its prone frame having been crushed. Blinking rapidly, Taja let out a small squeal in delight, then quickly reverted back to staring up at the Sith Master with wide-eyed fascination.

Xireon, absent-mindedly itching the lower half of his face, which was covered by the collar he always wore about it, observed as Taja amused herself by mutilating the corpse of the Massassi. "Just in case there was any doubt you were a sociopath," he muttered, almost inaudibly, as it fell to the ground.

"Either way, your answer is closer to the fact of the matter than you might think," he continued. He was only slightly unnerved by the wild-eyed stare his student fixed him with, having grown well accustomed to it by now. "The way of the Sith that I have attempted to teach you transcends simple tricks and such nonsense. What is it that a Sith does, when power is available to him?"

After a moment's thought, he added, "Or her."

Taja puffed up her cheeks and exhaled noisily; thinking cohesively had never been her forte, let alone assembling all those thoughts into a single, lucid concept. So she did what came to her most naturally.

"She can do... things," she replied absently. Almost immediately, a searing pain shot through Xireon's mind and washed over his every limb, his field of vision clouding over and abruptly fading into black; then, just as suddenly, the burning sensation gave way to an absolute, deadening cold. So subtle were the stream of images that followed that they permeated through the defensive walls barricading the outermost coils of his mind; and, all the while, a cacophonous peal resounded throughout, dissonant and yet comfortably numbing at once.

The 'vision', if it could be referred to as such, possessed a strange symbolic quality, and although it only lasted a mere few seconds, she was certain her Master could glean its hidden implications. It was the very epitome of chaos -- of terror and madness -- but at the same time was also carefully coordinated and ordered... controlled, even. Once this much was clear, the veil over Xireon's eyes gradually dissolved, to be replaced with the far more concrete image of Taja sitting before him.

She still had her knees drawn under her chin; her arms were wrapped loosely around her legs, and a sort of twisted half-smile tugged at one corner of her mouth. "Kind of like that."

Xireon's white eyes narrowed slowly, as the images subsided. It was somewhat unnerving to have a student so adept at reaching inside his mind. "I will take that to mean, 'She takes it'," he said, his voice barely above a savage growl.

One of the black-suited soldiers that served Xireon, bearing the appearance of an Imperial royal guard in all but color, approached from the room's entrance. It, like the army of them that had nearly conquered the galaxy, was an Achrion, one of the genetically engineered, Force-imbued and universally loyal servants that Xireon and Darth Talus had created.

"The ship awaits you, Master," it informed him, before being dismissed by a simple nod.

"I am speaking, Taja, about taking the end of the Dark Circle into our own hands. About taking the legacy for our own, about grabbing hold of the power being offered to us by its demise. Once the instrument of the former Dark Lord is broken, his legacy will end, and a new one -- one we may shape -- will begin."

Although he had, for the most part, grown habituated with his Apprentice's often manic behaviour, Xireon's reactions never failed to amuse her; and, on that note, she stuck out her tongue. "Well fine, if you want to put it into so many words," she huffed. Once the Achrion had disappeared from sight in the halls beyond the training room, Taja rose to her full height, clasping her hands together above her head as she stretched.

"Where're we going ?"

"Where my father first journeyed to join Recon Klain, and form the empire which spawned me; Korriban." His cheek muscles rose in a way which indicated he was smiling beneath his collar. "In a way, I suppose that this will be... ironic."



Within minutes, the two -- with few worldly possessions to throw into the cargo hold of the Crimson Tide II, a Sentinel-class shuttle which had once belonged to his father (and which he had stolen at the Battle of Ruusan) -- were on the shuttle, and flying away from the molten rock of Vjun.

The unerring precision of the Achrion pilots allowed them to depart into hyperspace quickly, leaving little for the two to do other than wait in the rather large living quarters of the shuttle.

Xireon paced restlessly. "I would hope you are prepared for this undertaking, Taja Loraan."

Several minutes elapsed in an eerie sort-of silence; then, finally raising her head a little way, Taja shot him with a deadpan look. "Why wouldn't I be ?" she asked plainly, her eyes transfixed on the form of her Master and following the movements accompanied by his every step. "Besides," she added in a quite murmur, sitting herself down on a low bunk and leaning backwards against the cold metal of the ship's hull, "you wouldn't have brought me along if you suspected otherwise."

Her voice slowly trailed off, and her gaze shifted away from Xireon to stare vacantly outside a nearby viewport instead.

Xireon sneered beneath the collar.

"Always have a smart answer, don't we?" He asked sarcastically. The Sith's white eyes blazed as he pulled his cloak tighter about the freakishly thin, emaciated frame that remained of what once had been a near-human body. "But in all that I've tried to teach you, remember that power is still the key. Power rules all and commands all, Taja Loraan, and the reasoning for my actions is my own."

The sneer turned slowly to what may have been a smile. It was, as always, difficult to tell. "I could kill you in a moment, and that is all the reason you need concern yourself with."

"I'm sure you could, yes," she said, swinging her legs up onto the narrow bed and crossing them beneath her. Taja again fixed him with her fierce glare, but as intent as it may have been, it was impossible to read any expression or motive behind the look. She made no effort to disguise her interest in the immense power with which her Master conducted any action, however -- a common occurrence, one Xireon was all too familiar with by now -- and paid great attention to detail as he adjusted his cloak around himself, her fascination more than apparent.

Her lips, too, now curled into a smile. "But that doesn't mean you would."