"My Lord?"
The voice of his apprentice, the most valued and talented of every apprentice he had ever had at that (not that he would ever tell Corilla that. The Empire did not need more egoists.), drew Koret Solusar from his thoughts. His deep thoughts, deeper than he had realized if he had only been absently aware of her presence, in regards to the state of his beloved Empire and the dwindling number of Sith she had to defend her. Too many were dying due to rivalries and worthless spats, too few were surviving Korriban.
"My Lord, there is a report in regards to the Dark Temple, and Imperial Intelligence has forwarded a handful of reports in regards to Vestara Khai as well." She continued, once she saw that she had his full attention, and he arched an eyebrow behind his mask and lay down his flimsipen.
"Hmm. Good. The report from the Dark Temple?" he responded, expecting her to immediately hand over a hardcopy and launch into a verbal explanation, but to his surprise she shook her head with a slight frown.
"I think we should go over the Imperial Intelligence reports first, My Lord. They may prove significant to your evaluation of the information from the Dark Temple." She contradicted him directly, something that she did very rarely, and he adjusted himself slightly in his seat in interest and curiosity.
"Very well then, Corilla. Proceed." He allowed, and she dipped into a slight bow of acknowledgement and thanks before stepping forward and handing over a small sheaf of flimsies before taking a deep breath.
"The first report is from the day that the Dark Temple was opened by Tudalhiya Luwian. Asmu-Nikal Luwian has apparently long had a rivalry with the only child of a wealthy and influential merchant family, a girl by the name of Lana Beniko. It seems that Asmu-Nikal decided it was necessary to, well, show Vestara Khai off to her childhood rival. What is interesting is what happened after the fact…."
Koret read along as she talked, finding some small manner of amusement in the way that the two women (and he made note to examine this Beniko girl himself) had almost immediately started sniping at each other, only to promptly start fighting over Khai instead. Yet as amusing as that was, and interesting given later developments, what truly caught his attention was the lecture that the ostensible slave had delivered onto the pair of heiresses. She was a girl after his own heart, it seemed, venting her anger of the self-sabotage of their people and the need of the Sith to work in concert for the sake of their nation rather than at cross purposes for the sake of themselves.
Oh, and her apparent foresight as well. Perhaps it had been nothing more than coincidence (the reports all said that Khai's evaluation of Tudalhiya was wholly accurate, as did the manner of his death), but for her to be in the midst of delivering such a lecture the very instant the fool was in the midst of proving her right seemed too serendipitous for his tastes.
And then there was Zash's immediate interest in her, following her all the way from the slave markets and treating the Luwian girl with a brusqueness that bordered on rudeness in an effort to purchase Khai. A supplementary report noted that Zash, who had previously been at the slave markets several times daily (w ithout, the report noted, making any purchases), had not been seen visiting them since. Likewise, he recalled all too well how her efforts to get slaves sent to Korriban as acolytes had intensified since the Temple had been opened as well. Even proposing that, 'for the sake of the Empire and the Order', slaves could be claimed by eminent right and sent to Korriban over their owner's objections.
Koret did not ascribe events to coincidence as a matter of course, and certainly not in a circumstance such as this. He had lived a very long life, long enough to have some talent in 'connecting the dots', and it seemed very much to him that Zash had a particular and specific interest in Vestara Khai. The same woman of whom a simple picture had resulted in the Force nearly singing to him. The same woman that, per the recording of Asmu-Nikal, Lana Beniko, and Zash in Beniko's establishment, seemed to draw people towards her with little in the way of effort.
Vestara Khai might have been born a slave and have been touched by the darker arts of alchemical sorcery, but she was someone of significance. She was important, somehow, and based on what Corilla had said before starting this report, it had something to do with the Dark Temple. How directly, he didn't know (and he hoped to soon find out), but he trusted his senses. Honed by decades of fighting, surviving, and leading, he had learned to trust the Force and to trust his gut in equal measure.
"Unfortunately, there hasn't been much success in infiltrating the Luwian Estate itself. Following the events that resulted in his heir's death, Lord Luwian has more-or-less locked the estate down. No new slaves have been purchased, no new servants or soldiers have been hired, and guests are very few and far between. Likewise, few of the estate's inhabitants have left it's grounds since the Dark Temple was opened." Corilla finished, sounding aggravated by the continued failure of their subordinates, and Koret hummed softly in consideration. While he would normally opt for abandoning the long wait for an opening to present himself and instead create said opening, acting precipitously was for lesser men.
"Table the infiltration efforts for the time being. The Dark Temple?" he responded aloud, and his apprentice nodded in acquiescence before passing over a datapad, one with a grainy holorecording opened and ready for watching. Keying the device, he watched with increasing interest as an Imperial Intelligence Cipher (Cipher 22, according to the annotations beside the image) approached Asmu-Nikal, Vestara Khai, and the slave girl (Kela, he believed was the name) and greeted them respectfully. No, not just respectfully, with deference. Deference that was directed towards Khai. The recording cut off not long after, as the Chiss agent escorted the trio out of sight.
"Not long after that recording was made, an airspeeder with all four individuals was spotted flying towards the Dark Temple. You are, of course, aware that the storms have abated?" the question was a rhetorical one, but he confirmed it all the same, and she made a vague gesture of discontent. "It went entirely unchallenged so long as it was in sight. While interesting, that isn't what caused Intelligence to forward this report directly to you."
"Did they not forward it due to my instructions to monitor Khai and her companions?" he inquired, tilting his masked and hooded head slightly to the side as he considered her, and she grimaced slightly. Sensing the [Negation] that radiated out from her, his eyes narrowed. "Tell me the rest, girl."
"The image was poor, given a number of circumstances, but…" Corilla paused, taking a deep breath and visibly steadying herself for a verbal plunge. "Intelligence watched carefully, they think they were able to correctly identify at least part of the conversation. Cipher 22 identified Vestara Khai as 'an honored descendant and prospective heiress to the Grand Marshall of the Armies of the Most Holy Empire of the Sith, the Right Hand of Tulak Hord, Aloysious Kallig', My Lord. If My Lord would recall the reports from the archaeological expeditions to certain Sith tombs…?"
"You are implying that this Kallig is one of the many buried in the Dark Temple, and his Force Ghost was warped the minds of everyone who was on the grounds." Marr ground out, his temper flaring, his hands clenching slightly on the arms of his chair.
While studies into the ancients and their tombs was by no means a direct matter of his sphere (Ancient Knowledge was it's own Pyramid for a good reason), he had read far too many reports of entire archaeological teams and their protective military units being driven insane, possessed, mentally dominated, or any one of the myriad other disasters that tended to befall them in such places. He was hardly a sorcerer, despite his strength in the Force or his talent with Lightning, but he understood the mechanics of it: the tortured, malicious spirits of the ancient dead delivering their wrath upon those that disturbed their restless and eternal sleep. That such a thing could happen in the Dark Temple was unsurprising, and it was one reason that accessing that place had long been forbidden.
"How legitimate could these claims be?" Marr asked, rising to his feet and heading for the door, an absent flicked of his fingers summoning several pieces of equipment to his side from across the room, including his two backup lightsabers.
"We're not sure." Corilla admitted freely, falling in at his heels, sounding displeased with the admission as they started to make their way through the upper levels of the Ministry of Imperial Warfare, the sprawling complex dedicated entirely to the organization and operation of the Imperial Armed Forces. "There isn't much known about Lord Kallig, only that he did exist and that he did have a very high rank amongst the Sith of the era. Pro-Alien, very meritocratic. Described as Tulak Hord's closest ally and most dangerous rival. He and the vast majority of his House were wiped out on the Dark Lord's order. It's certainly more than possible that a surviving descendant of his would have ended up in slavery in the time since, and it would explain a few things about Khai."
Marr grunted in agreement. A House falling wasn't unusual by any stretch of the imagination, nor was it unusual for the survivors (or the descendants of survivors) of such Houses to find themselves enslaved. A final degradation by their conquerors. It wasn't even uncommon for fallen Houses to raise themselves up once again, taking revenge and reclaiming their place in the Empire through cunning and strength.
"Frankly, My Lord, if you hadn't ordered us to keep eyes on Khai and investigate her, this would have passed us by entirely. At best, we would have spotted them in the aircar approaching the Dark Temple, but I don't consider that likely. Even with the storms clearing away, we have few enough assets in the area." His apprentice informed him as they stepped out onto his private airpad, the sleek black form of his personal air-shuttle waiting for it's master to command it once more.
"Likely so." He responded, stepping up into the craft and settling himself in the pilot's seat to begin the start-up sequence. A rare act for a Dark Council member, but a common one with him. While he preferred to lead his troops from the ground, he was an accomplished pilot, and one that loathed to allow others to fly him anywhere that he could instead fly himself. The engines hummed to life with a throaty purr as Corilla slid into the seat beside him, looking somewhat nervous. Something he noticed, radiating the slightest amount of [Amusement] in her direction. "Worry not, apprentice, I've not yet crashed a ship without it being badly damaged beforehand."
From her expression, that was not the most reassuring statement in the world. Never the less, she opted against responding verbally and instead simply double checked that she was properly and securely strapped in. A statement that, though entirely nonverbal, nonetheless spoke volumes, and Marr felt his flicker of amusement grow. He had never had a child, he wasn't even sure it was possible for him any longer, after so many years of fighting and immersing himself in the Dark Side, but he was quite sure that he thought of Corilla as a daughter. He certainly favoured her over any of his previous apprentices, if nothing else.
"If you intend on going to the Dark Temple to confront them as they depart, can I at least request that we bring some infantry support?" she asks, looking resigned but unsurprised when he answered in the negative. She was used to him doing this sort of thing, after all. Darth Marr may not be a reckless fool, but he wasn't a particularly cautious or hesitant man either. All she could do was follow along and do her best to aid him as required.
The shuttle arced through the sky, making it's way towards the distant, vast bulk that loomed on the horizon.
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I was feeling many emotions as the air-car approached the entrance of the Dark Temple, the ground whipping by beneath us, the fallen pillars and statues swarming with laboring crews, their work songs in the language of our ancestors rising around us. Audible even at the speed that we were moving, easily so, and I couldn't help but feel awe, anticipation, even pride. Oh, there was some small manner of disgust and discomfort there as well. These men and women were not serving of their own free will, nor were they even in their right minds, but it was a sight to see all the same.
But of all the emotions I was currently feeling, there was one that (with very good reason) held the greatest prominence. One emotion that could be used to best describe me in this moment and at this time.
I was nervous.
I had no idea how to 'wake up' Kallig. After all, in the game's story he had only regained awareness the first time the Inquisitor had picked up a proper lightsaber on Korriban. Something that most certainly hadn't happened just yet. Perhaps I could cause some sort of cognitive dissonance, make things so uncanny for him that he was forced to realize what had happened? It was certainly an option, thought I don't know that it was a particularly good one.
In truth, my concern was for Kela and Asmu-Nikal. He would have no qualms about killing them if he thought that they had offended his House through me, and somehow I doubted that my pleading on their behalf would be terribly effective. Perhaps it would be, perhaps he would spare them in an effort to be generous or make me happy, but I wasn't prepared to bet on it.
"Honored Descendent, we've arrived." Cipher 22 voiced, somewhat unnecessarily, as the air-car settled down onto it's stubby landing struts directly before the door. Even as my companions and I began to adjust our weight to rise, a Sith apprentice approached and opened the door, his bald head low as he quite literally bowed us from the vehicle. Behind him waited a dozen Imperial Commandoes forming two columns, weapons held at port arms, bodies rigid and helmet-shrouded eyes facing dead ahead. At the far end of the column waited another Imperial, an officer, her blonde hair pulled up into a bun and her hands folded behind her back.
The invitation was an obvious one and I squared my shoulders before taking a deep breath and making my way down the plasteel corridor the soldiers formed, Asmu-Nikal and Kela following closely behind and doing their best to neither look nervous nor to make any moves that could possibly be defined as aggressive.
"Lady Kallig." The officer greeted me with a respectful and military-precise half-bow, glancing at my companions. "And companions. Second Lieutenant Kormika, at your service. I had the honor of being second-in-command to Lord Kallig's military advisor, Captain Malith, though I have been reassigned to act as your attache and liason with the rest of The House of Kallig for the duration of your visit to the estate."
"Thank you, Lieutenant. My companions, Asmu-Nikal of House Luwian, and Kela." I responded, delving into my admittedly-extensive experience roleplaying (across a number of mediums, and to a number of ends) as I gestured to the pair of women behind me. "I will be requesting a tour in good time, but at the moment it is imperative that I speak with my Patriarch immediately. Please escort me to him."
"Of course, milady." She bowed again, before turning on her heel and heading into the depths of the Temple, leaving the three of us to briefly exchange glances and follow.
Making our way through the Temple itself to Kallig's tomb was neither a simple nor speedy proposition. Though it had long been sealed and untouched, the Temple had still degraded over the centuries since it had been closed, and by the looks of it Tudalhiya had caused no small amount of damage during his efforts to breach the building.
And, of course, the building was enormous. Far larger than it had been in the game, unsurprisingly. Large enough that a Terminus-class destroyer could have docked in it, easily, with plenty of room to spare. It also consisted of nearly a dozen floors instead of a mere two or three, and the volume (and quality) of the statuary, engravings, reliefs, and other decorations that filled the space were nothing short of awe-inspiring. The amount of knowledge, and treasure, that had to be contained within these walls was beyond imagining.
Equally unlike the game, I quickly discovered, Kallig's tomb was not on the first floor of the Dark Temple. It was, in fact, beneath the Dark Temple. Buried beneath it's heart, accessible only via a staircase that had clearly once been hidden, for it was in the center of the base of the enormous Statue of Ancient Horror that dominated the Temple's center. We descended for what must have been a hundred feet, more than enough to take us beneath the Temple's foundations, and followed Lt. Kormika down the left hand corridor of a T-shaped intersection.
It didn't take long for us to find ourselves leaving the hall and stepping into a large arena (and it was an arena, with racks of ancient, finely wrought weapons lining the walls beneath murals and carvings of glory) surrounded by numerous other doors and alcoves. Yet as interesting as the training circle was, as interesting as all those ancient tools of war were, as interesting as all those flanking rooms were, there was something else that drew our attention.
At the head of the room sat a dais, standing perhaps a third of the room's total height and topped by an elaborate stone throne. It was beautiful in it's craftsmanship, truly the throne worth of a king…or a Lord of the Sith, and it was the shimmering, white-blue form of one such Lord that was sitting on the throne and waiting for them to approach. Kormika walked forward to the base of the dais before kneeling, head low in obeisance, and I watched his unmasked visage scan each of us slowly, searchingly.
"So, the daughter of my daughters has finally come home, seeking the wisdom of her kin." Kallig spoke, the words carrying such a weight that Kela's knees buckled, driving her to the floor as they resonated in her ears and soul alike. Nicky and I were only somewhat better, and I was proud to see that my lover's knees barely shook beneath the pressure of his presence and attention. Though that might have been because her joints, like mine, had locked up somewhere around the third or fourth word. I wasn't sure I could even move at this point, to be perfectly honest. "You are dismissed, Lieutenant. Remind your fellows that we are not to be disturbed unless you are summoned."
She rose silently and left with dignified, obedient haste, disappearing back down the hall, leaving us alone with a man whose power in the Force was such that, even dead and buried, he surpassed the whole of House Luwian combined within the Force. Only when the woman was gone did he rise from his throne and descend the stairs, bearing regal and pace sedate.
"Hmm. Tell me, daughter of my daughters, who is your mother? Who is your father?" he queried as he descended, and I quickly cast my memory back to the fragmented recollections I had of 'my' past prior to Luwian killing 'me'.
"My mother was Lahka, my father was Gavar. Both are dead now, and have been since I was an infant." I replied honestly, and he frowned as he stepped off of the dais and stood before me. He was handsome enough, with a well-kept beard framing strong cheekbones and long, nearly shoulder length dark hair pulled back in a series of braids.
"I do not recognize those names as members of my House, but then I did not recognize yours either. Yet despite that, it is obvious to me that you are kin to me, and I wonder how it is that both of these things can be true." He mused slowly, pacing around me slowly, examining me as he utterly ignored my companions. "And I find myself wondering at the scars in your presence and flesh, the indelible markers engraved on body and soul alike. What foolishness have you inflicted on yourself, Vestara? In what madness have you indulged so recklessly, endangering yourself and our House?"
"She did not, My Lord. The marks she bares are there through no fault of her own." Nicky answered before I could think of an excuse, and my head whipped around as an expression of horror crossed my face, even as my ancestor turned to face her with a raised eyebrow. Meeting his eyes head-on, she held herself high and continued. "Vestara was born into slavery. Her father died in toil, and her mother died to the experiments of my father, Lord Luwian. She survived and grew, and was experimented on in turn. It is through his actions that she is as you see and sense her."
"Nicky…!" I barked, trying to silence her before she could continue, but she rolled on steadily without hesitating or even acknowledging me.
"Since my return from Korriban, she has been my personal slave, alongside Kela." She gestured to the wide eyed girl beside her, who was staring at the conversation going on above her with choppy breath echoing loudly against the stone.
"…you claim that one of my descendants is a slave? You claim to own a member of House Kallig? You claim to rule over one whose power far outstrips your own?" Aloysious nearly crooned the words, head tilting to the side as he regarded her much in the way a hawk might regard a field mouse. The softness of his tone did nothing to lessen the danger within it, and I swallowed convulsively in unison with Nicky, yet despite that she did not falter.
"By the laws of the Sith Empire, she is mine, as her parents were my father's." Nicky confirmed, and I had to wonder what the hell she thought she was doing. It was one thing to deflect my ancestor's wrath by informing him I wasn't the one who had mutilated my own body and soul, it was quite another to suicidally invite his wrath by going into greater detail.
"Were it not for the bond I can sense between the three of you, I would have killed you already for your impudence. Though I can appreciate why the daughter of my daughters has kept you at her side. You have courage and strength of spirit. Far more than the worthless whelp you once called brother." He said after a long moment, much to all of our surprise, and I sagged with relief with a shuddering breath as he turned away from her to face me once more. "You, child, will explain how it is that this came to be, for I can sense the honesty of your woman's words as clearly as I can sense her submission to you. Be warned, however, that her life hangs upon your words. No matter your connection to her nor her own charm and worthiness, I will tolerate no stain on the name of Kallig."
"Of course, ancestor. First, I will say that without Asmu-Nikal I would likely be dead. She has been a cherished friend and lover to me since we met, and has defied her father to teach me in the ways of the Force." I accepted, clearing my throat when he arched an eyebrow in response to the plea on her behalf. Clearly he wasn't interested in my wheedling or diplomacy, only the story, and my throat bobbed with a heavy swallow. "I…this will sound like madness, My Lord, utter madness. I only ask that you let me finish explaining and offering prove before you do anything drastic."
"I will make no such promises, but so long as I can sense you speak forthrightly I am willing to indulge you." He intoned, which was not the most reassuring of responses but was a damn sight better than many of the others. Frankly, the fact that Nicky was still alive was surprising. Gratifying, but surprising.
"Alright then." I conceded, waiting half a heartbeat before taking the plunge. "You're dead. You died more than three thousand years ago. Killed during ambush organized by Tulak Hord, who feared your growing influence and power. The rest of our family was either slaughtered or scattered during the ensuing purges by Hord and our other rivals. Sometime since then, our family, or at least my branch of it, were enslaved. After your death, you were buried with honor in a vast tomb on Dromuund Kaas. Millenia after your death, the Sith Lord Tenebrae, now Vitiate, named himself Emperor of the Sith and built a massive tomb-complex for his defeated enemies, called the Dark Temple, over your tomb."
"That might have been a bit too blunt, Khai." Nicky groaned, running a hand through her hair and eyeing me with what could only be defined as aggravated exasperation. Which would have been fair, if she hadn't just spent a full minute trying to get herself killed by being a little bit too honest with the ghost of a powerful Sith Lord.
"Do not be absurd. I am no more dead than you are, and this is no more a tomb than…" Kallig started to scoff, sounding both disappointed and angry, his gaze beginning to turn towards Nicky with that I could only describe as fel intent, before he paused. A flicker of confusion creased his features, and I moved to capitalize on it.
"Please, ancestor, let me prove it to you. Nearby is the tomb of another ancient Lord, Ergast, who created a ritual that allows Force wielders to pacify, communicate, and draw strength from Force ghosts. If I master it, I will be able to clear your mind and, should I succeed in that, you can help me return our family to glory."
"Force-Walking, I presume, is the ritual of which you speak. Malith reported to me your interest in conversing with this Ergast in an effort to learn it." He responded after a long, long moment, folding his arms with a frown and drumming his fingers on his elbow. It was, somehow, an oddly human gesture from the spirit, and I was opening my mouth to respond when he grunted. "I can sense your honesty, which contradicts everything that I am aware of. Though…the existence of Force ghosts is not unknown to me. Very well. We will all go to visit this tomb you claim is near here."
"Thank you, ancestor. You won't regret this, I promise." I breathed a sigh of relief, and he regarded me with something very like paternal amusement.
"I should hope not. If you are correct, then I will have to take you firmly in hand to ensure you return our House to glory and are in every way an example of our station for the people to follow. If you are wrong, then I will have to take you even more firmly into hand so that I can correct the clear deficits in your behaviors." He informed me gravely, and I resisted the urge to give a very childish groan as I realized that, either way, I was going to be in for an ancient Sith socio-cultural bootcamp. Biting back the urge, I turned back towards the hallway that would lead us to Ergast's tomb complex.
Force, I hope I didn't end up regretting this!
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Lord Kallig, despite his discontent and discomfort over the claims made by his descendant and her concubine (and the pureblood did belong to his descendant, no matter the legality of the situation. Their bond was quite clear, and it was equally clear she deferred to Vestara in every way that mattered), couldn't help but feel a degree of interest as he followed the three girls through the halls of his private wing. Interest, and exasperation. It was painfully obvious, now that he had met her, that his descendant had no notion of how to properly behave. Oh, she was putting on a fine show of behaving properly, but it was quite clear that it was in fact just that: a show.
She was a decent enough actress, but there was an artificial slant to it all. Not to say that she was trying to deceive him or manipulate him, necessarily, but more that she didn't have the natural awareness or proper training for society and was simply trying to emulate what she thought was the proper behavior. Something that unfortunately gave further weight and legitimacy to her words, much as he loathed the very idea.
Of course, the idea that Tulak Hord might have betrayed him and his family was hardly an outlandish one. He had achieved his own position at the man's right hand through usurping many others, and his old friend had grown increasingly paranoid as their lives and their wars dragged on. He had displayed an increasing unwillingness to heed sound advice or make the wisest of decisions, something that had forced the House of Kallig to pick up the slack more than once. A fact that, in hindsight, might not have been the most helpful way to soothe Hord's mistrust and suspicion.
Well, regardless of what was or was not true about both his supposed death and his family's fall from the heights of glory to the very gutter itself, he could see he had a great deal of work to do. His descendant carried no weapon, her movements were hardly fluid enough to indicate any substantial training, her presence in the Force was rough and chaotic, and her posture reeked of peasantry. If this was a Vestara after several months of training with the pureblood girl, he hardly wanted to imagine what she would have been like before said training began.
Retiring, clearly, was not an option. One way or another, he was going to be working hard for a long time yet, and if he wasn't in the presence of Vestara and her concubines he likely would have sighed tiredly. As it was, he allowed himself a near-silent huff and slow roll of his shoulders, absently wondering how it was he could (if he was, in fact, dead) feel so exhausted as he currently did.
They turned down another hall and entered a space quite similar to his own suite, though rather than a dais with a throne the room was dominated by an enormous, holocron-laden table, and he frowned ever-so-slightly at yet another piece of evidence that his beliefs on the situation were, perhaps, not entirely correct.
How vexing.
"Visitors?" a voice echoed from nowhere and everywhere, and Kallig's eyes narrowed as the Force swirled around them, thickening until it was quite literally visible as a twisting maelstrom of energy that finally coalesced into the shining blue-white figure of a human man dressed in simple armor.
"Lord Ergast, I am Vestara Khai, descendant of mighty Lord Kallig. I have come to master the ritual of Forcewalking, so that he can help me return our House to the glory that it once held." His descendant greeted the spirit with a low bow, her companions joining her (Kallig was momentarily quite miffed that he received no such respect. Family or not, showing due respect should be expected!), and the shimmering form arched an eyebrow and descended the steps to approach the group. Bypassing the three women, he came to stand before Kallig, examining him.
"Lord Kallig, it is truly an honor to meet you. When I had my tomb built so close to your own, it was due to the deep respect which I hold to you. It was your Ritual of the Echoes that inspired me to create Forcewalking, that I might speak with the dead directly rather than view their memories." He said with a small and genuine bow, and Aloysious blinked at him in surprise for a moment before smiling slightly.
"I am gratified to hear it. Tulak Hord was forever turning his nose up at that particular work. To know that it inspired some of those who followed us is pleasing. I suppose, then, that my descendant was telling the truth and I am truly dead?" he responded, and Ergast gave him what he would later swear was a sympathetic look.
"I am afraid so. You had been dead nearly four centuries by the time of my own life, though I am sure you will be happy to hear Tulak Hord did not long outlast you. His own apprentice fatally injured him, then fed him to a dashade." The other spirit informed him, and Kallig allowed those words to sink in for a long moment before smiling broadly in cold satisfaction.
"I warned him that Ortan Cela was not to be trusted. The brat was petty, cruel, and small-minded. How ironic, that he murdered the man he should have trusted above all others while trusting the man who would betray him without hesitation." He remarked, before glancing over at his descendant. "With the daughter of my daughters proven correct, then, I ask that you teach her this ritual. I must be capable of accompanying her, that our House might rise again. I can hardly rest once more if we have fallen so far."
"I would be honored to do so. I believe that she shall prove talented in the art, though I'm afraid her concubine lacks the ability." Ergast agreed immediately, gesturing for Vestara to follow him as he turned and made his way back towards the holocrons. "Come, girl. Let us see how you measure up to your forebear."
Folding his hands behind his back, Kallig watched as his descendant took her first steps towards a greater future.