The advanced medical equipment in the academy's infirmary worked swiftly to close Drogath's wounds, aided by his naturally resilient body. The various cuts and bruises from the previous day's battles healed with astonishing speed, leaving only faint traces of his injuries.
Meanwhile, night had fallen over the desert, casting the Sith Academy into darkness. In the shared room, Ali sat cross-legged on the upper bunk, his eyes closed in deep meditation. He had been at it for an hour already, his focus unwavering as he sought to further understand the Force.
When Drogath entered the room, he moved quietly. Exhaustion from the day's trials—hunting animals in the scorching desert and battling training droids—made his steps heavy. Without a word, he collapsed onto his bed and quickly fell into a deep sleep.
Hours passed in silence, the room dimly lit by the glow of Korriban's moons filtering through the window. Just before sunrise, Ali's eyes snapped open suddenly, filled with adrenaline.
'I felt it!' he thought to himself, his pulse quickening.
The sensation had been brief—like a burst of warm air brushing against his face for only a moment—but it was unmistakable. 'That wasn't natural. It had to be the Force,' Ali thought.
He replayed the feeling in his mind, recalling how the books had described this first step. "The earliest stage of sensing the Force is the recognition of something foreign—a presence in the air surrounding the individual."
Taking a deep breath, Ali calmed himself. It was a small step, but it was progress. He decided to rest for the remaining hours before dawn.
When Ali did sleep, his nights were usually dreamless—a welcome void of thought and sensation. But sometimes, the dreams came. These nights were the ones Ali hated most.
Ali was back on Earth, seated on a levitating throne. Below him, thousands of soldiers trained in martial arts under his command, their movements synchronised and precise. At the end of their drills, they shouted his name in unison, their voices echoing with devotion.
Ali felt a wave of satisfaction as he observed his warriors, pride swelling in his chest. But the moment was shattered by an icy sensation creeping down his arm.
A pale hand slid down his right side, cold as death. Ali froze, unable to move or speak, as another pale hand slid over his left side and gently covered his eyes.
"Ali… my perfect creation," whispered a woman's voice, low and chilling.
The sound made his blood run cold, dredging up memories he didn't want to recall. Painful memories. His breathing quickened, and his heart thundered in his chest as the darkness enveloped him.
Ali awoke abruptly, staring at the ceiling of the dormitory. His forehead was damp with cold sweat, and his breaths came in short gasps. Morning light spilled through the window, casting long shadows across the room.
From below, Drogath stirred, stretching his massive frame. He looked up at Ali and sniffed the air. "Ali, did you feel it getting cold last night?" he asked in his deep voice, his tone curious.
Ali wiped his brow and shook his head. "I don't know," he muttered.
They dressed quickly and headed to the dining hall for breakfast, eager to replenish their energy. The meal was quiet, but once again, their comms interrupted them. A hologram of Malgrith appeared, brief and direct as always.
"I have sent you my location. Go there at once."
The message ended as abruptly as it began. Ali and Drogath exchanged a glance, then stood up and left the hall. Mounting their speeders, they crossed the desert in the cool morning air. The journey was uneventful, the silence broken only by the hum of the engines and Drogath's occasional yawns.
Eventually, they arrived at their destination—a solitary tent in the middle of the desert, identical in design to Lord Malvok's. The two acolytes dismounted and approached the entrance, which was sealed shut.
"Master Malgrith, may we enter?" Drogath called out.
The entrance flaps opened on their own, inviting them in without a word. Inside, Malgrith stood in full Sith attire, leaning over a round device that projected a three-dimensional map of the desert in blue light. His focus was intense, his attention fully absorbed by the map.
Ali's eyes wandered around the tent. Papers filled with an unfamiliar language were spread across multiple desks, alongside ancient books far older than those on the first level of the academy's library.
They stood silently until Malgrith finally straightened and turned to face them. He held a piece of paper in his hand, his sharp gaze taking them both in. He had already heard about the rumours circulating through the academy—stories of his two new acolytes spreading like wildfire.
"I can feel a stronger connection to the Force from you," Malgrith said to Drogath, his tone neutral but observant.
Then his eyes shifted to Ali. "As for you… I feel absolutely nothing. I heard you spent two hours in the library and forfeited your training session," he said, his voice devoid of judgment. "Did you at least learn anything from the sacred library?"
"Yes," Ali replied confidently. "It was extremely helpful. I read the entire introductory section on the Force, which gave me a much better understanding of it."
He paused briefly before adding, "Last night, during meditation, I recognised a sign of the Force."
Malgrith's expression sharpened. "A sign? Describe it to me in detail," he ordered.
"At first, I felt nothing for hours," Ali explained. "But just as I was about to quit, I felt a warm sensation brush against my face. It wasn't air—it was something else. Something I've never felt before."
The Sith Master raised a hand, flicking his index finger in Ali's direction. Ali's eyes widened as an invisible force struck his face, making his hair blow back despite the stillness of the tent.
"Did it feel like that?" Malgrith asked, his voice calm and calculating.
"Yes, but much weaker," Ali admitted.
Malgrith nodded, seemingly satisfied. "Good. You're on the right track. Continue practicing diligently, and results will come. Keep me updated on your progress."
He turned and gestured for them to approach the map. The three of them stood around the circular device, observing the desert hologram with its detailed topography.
"Before the storm, I was tracking a tomb," Malgrith began. "This tomb belonged to an ancient Sith Lord. Such tombs are invaluable treasures to every Sith on this planet. I was close to locating it, but the storm disrupted my efforts."
He pointed to a large, shaded region of the map. "My research suggests the tomb is somewhere in this area. Unfortunately, it's likely buried beneath layers of sand."
Drogath spoke up, his tone curious. "Master Malgrith, how will we find the entrance if it's underground?"
Malgrith answered without hesitation. "Ancient Sith tombs are saturated with the Force. The energy radiating from them is like a miniature Force storm that cannot be contained by mere sand. If you get close, you will feel it—strong and unmistakable."
He handed each of them a small device. "These will help you detect the Force from a distance. You will search in separate directions, covering as much ground as possible. Report back to me before sunset, or immediately if you find anything."
"And one final warning," Malgrith added, his tone darkening.
"Do not enter the tomb. Sith Lords are not inclined to part with their treasures willingly. Their tombs are littered with deadly traps that have killed many before, even Sith Masters…"
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