Star Wars: Slaves of the Sith

The air inside the Tomb of Chronos tasted dead. Every breath Darth Tempus drew into his lungs carried the sensation of forgotten centuries, as though the air itself had been exhaled by civilizations that no longer existed. The vast stone passage stretched before him beneath an impossibly high ceiling lost in darkness.

Its black walls were etched with spiraling constellations, eclipses, and clocks unlike any found anywhere else in the galaxy. Massive statues lined either side of the corridor, each depicting hooded Sith whose faces had been deliberately chiseled away. Time had not weathered the stone. Something else had.

Tempus walked alone. His heavy boots echoed against polished obsidian with measured confidence. His crimson eyes glowed through the eyeholes of his scarred mask, while the massive black hilt of his cleaver-shaped lightsaber rested against his shoulder. He had not ignited it, yet.

There was no fear here, only anticipation. At the end of the corridor, two enormous doors stood open. The Tomb had welcomed him. Tempus stopped before the towering obsidian doorway. A shallow stone basin rested at its base, black with blood that had long since dried into glass-like layers, while ancient Sith runes carved into its rim read only a single command, to pay the debt.

Without hesitation, he drew a dagger from his belt and sliced cleanly across the palm of his left hand. Thick crimson blood spilled into the basin, hissing as it touched the stone before disappearing as though consumed by something beneath the tomb itself. The runes ignited one by one in a deep scarlet glow.

It spread across the doorway like veins awakening after centuries of slumber. A low, resonant groan echoed through the chamber as ancient mechanisms stirred to life, and the immense doors slowly parted inward. Tempus watched the ritual with quiet satisfaction before flexing his hand, the wound already sealing through the power of the dark side.

"Every secret has its price," he murmured, stepping across the threshold as the doors opened fully to welcome him into the Tomb of Chronos.

The chamber beyond was circular, nearly two hundred feet across, its floor dominated by a massive clock carved into the stone. Twelve enormous glyphs replaced the numbers. Hundreds of broken hourglasses floated silently above the room, suspended without chains or supports, each frozen with its sand hanging motionless between the upper and lower bulbs.

Nothing within the chamber moved, aged, or decayed. The countless hourglasses suspended overhead remained frozen in impossible stillness, each grain of sand hanging motionless between the upper and lower bulbs as though time itself had forgotten how to flow.

Even the air seemed trapped in a single eternal moment, untouched by the passage of centuries. Most unsettling of all was the Force, which no longer surged or whispered as it always had, but instead pressed against Tempus's senses with an unnatural reluctance, as though it were hesitating to enter a place where time itself had been bound.

Tempus smiled beneath his mask. "So it exists." His voice carried through the chamber. "So much effort spent pretending you were only legend."

Another voice answered. "You should have left the legend buried."

Three figures emerged from the darkness between the towering pillars. Their lightsabers remained extinguished, but none made any attempt to hide their hands from their hilts. The first was an elderly human male wrapped in charcoal robes whose face looked more corpse than flesh.

The second was a towering Zabrak covered in ritual scars, his horns adorned with silver rings. The third was a woman with pale skin and black eyes, her robes trimmed with crimson armor plates worn smooth by decades of battle. Tempus recognized them immediately, the Keepers, Sith whose sole purpose was ensuring certain knowledge remained hidden forever.

The old human inclined his head slightly. "Darth Tempus."

Tempus answered with the same courtesy. "Darth Malvek."

"I had hoped," Malvek sighed, "that ambition had finally found its limit."

"It has." Tempus pointed. "It lies behind that door."

Malvek's expression hardened. Tempus glanced past them toward the massive circular vault sealed into the far wall. Unlike the rest of the tomb, that door bore no Sith script, only a single symbol, a serpent consuming its own tail.

"The Holocron of Darth Chronos," Tempus said quietly.

The Zabrak finally spoke. "Do not say his name."

Tempus looked back at him. "You fear it."

Finally, the woman stepped forward. "You believe this holocron contains mastery over time. It contains temptation."

Tempus laughed softly. "Spoken like Jedi."

Her eyes narrowed. She folded her hands behind her back. "The Sith conquer. They dominate. They bend others to their will, as they should. But time..." For the first time, uncertainty entered her voice. "...time bends no one."

Tempus considered that. Then shook his head. "Every chain can be broken."

Malvek's gaze grew colder. "This one cannot."

"It already has." Tempus slowly raised one gloved finger toward the floating hourglasses overhead. "Someone already imprisoned time here. If one Sith accomplished that, another can surpass it."

The Zabrak took a heavy step forward. "You mistake a prison for a throne."

"I intend to make it both," said Tempus.

Malvek closed his eyes for a long moment before speaking. "If you take Darth Chronos's holocron... the Dark Master himself will cast you down." The old Sith opened his eyes again. "You still have a future at his side."

Tempus chuckled. "I intend to have every future, every past and every present."

Malvek's voice became iron. "You will become and Apostate. You will be hunted. You will stand alone."

"I already am," said Tempus. "I expected nothing less." He slowly reached up and rested one hand upon the hilt of his great lightsaber. His crimson eyes brightened. "I will stand above all."

The woman shook her head. "You still do not understand. Darth Bane forbade it, and every Dark Lord since. Darth Sidious himself refused these teachings."

"They lacked imagination," drawled Tempus. "They lacked courage."

The Zabrak growled. "You insult every Sith who ever lived."

Tempus's laugh echoed through the impossible chamber. He looked toward the sealed vault once more. "I intend to surpass them."

Malvek's shoulders sagged, not with fear, but with disappointment. "Then there is nothing more to say." The old Keeper slowly ignited his crimson lightsaber. Its glow illuminated the ancient clock beneath their feet. The Zabrak followed. Then the woman. Three crimson blades hummed in perfect harmony.

Tempus regarded them for a moment before drawing the black hilt from across his back. The massive cleaver-shaped weapon ignited in his hands. The frozen hourglasses remained perfectly still overhead, as if the tomb itself were holding its breath, waiting to witness whether history was about to repeat itself, or be broken forever.