Star Wars: Shadow of Skywalker

The sand shifted beneath Anakin's boots as he stood, brushing the dirt from his cloak. His eyes scanned the horizon, taking in the vast emptiness of Korriban. The air was heavy and stale, carrying the faint metallic tang of blood and decay. The sky above burned an ominous red, casting long shadows across the jagged terrain. The world felt alive in its desolation, pulsing faintly with the dark side of the Force, as if the planet itself was watching him.

Ahead of him stretched a landscape dominated by crumbling ruins and ancient structures partially buried beneath dunes of red sand. The remnants of a once-great civilization lay scattered like the bones of a massive beast, their jagged edges sticking out of the sand in defiance of time. The oppressive silence was broken only by the occasional whisper of wind, carrying with it the faint echo of distant screams that made Anakin's skin crawl.

He narrowed his gaze at a large silhouette in the distance—a pyramid-like structure half-consumed by the sands. Its jagged edges and massive size hinted at its former glory, a time when it had stood as a monument to the power of the Sith. Now, it was nothing but a decayed husk, a tomb for long-forgotten ambitions.

"That must be the academy," Anakin muttered under his breath. A flicker of memory surfaced—details he had read from Sidious's datapad months ago. Though the information had been sparse, one thing was clear: the Sith Academy was a place of trials and torment, a crucible where the weak were destroyed and the strong forged into weapons.

As he began to climb toward the structure, his instincts screamed at him to turn back. The dark side pressed against him, its malevolent energy wrapping around his chest like a vice. But he couldn't afford fear—not now. 'I must survive. I must become stronger. Strong enough to destroy them all.'

The thought of his mother's broken body flashed through his mind, fueling his resolve. He tightened his fists, his nails digging into his palms, and pressed on.

The climb was grueling. The rocky terrain shifted beneath his feet, forcing him to grab onto jagged outcroppings for balance. Several times, the stones crumbled in his grip, sending him sliding back down. His hands and knees were scraped raw, but he gritted his teeth and kept going. Each stumble only fueled his anger.

Reaching a large boulder, Anakin drew on the Force, letting it fill his legs as he leapt into the air. The jump carried him effortlessly over a treacherous gap, landing him on a narrow ledge. He straightened, breathing heavily, and allowed himself a brief moment to scan his surroundings.

The academy loomed closer now, its pyramid shape unmistakable. Despite the centuries of decay, it still radiated an aura of menace. The ramp leading to its entrance was almost completely buried under sand, but its massive size and angular design were still evident. Twisted metal beams jutted out from the structure at odd angles, and broken statues lay scattered like forgotten sentinels.

As he moved closer, the sense of wrongness grew stronger. The dark side was everywhere, seeping into the air, the ground, the very stones of the academy. It whispered to him, promising power and torment in equal measure.

Anakin clenched his fists, his knuckles whitening. "I can't be afraid," he whispered. "I'm destined for greatness. I'll prove Maul wrong. I'll avenge my mother."

His pace quickened, driven by the dark energy swirling around him. His gut churned with a mix of anticipation and dread as he approached the entrance.

The entrance to the academy was a crumbling ruin. Massive slabs of stone and twisted metal blocked the once-grand doorway, forming an impassable barrier. The ancient Sith insignia etched into the arch above the doorway was barely visible, worn down by centuries of wind and sand.

Anakin placed a hand on the cold stone, closing his eyes to focus. The dark side was thick here, its presence almost suffocating. It clung to him like tar, filling his lungs and sharpening his senses. He reached out with the Force, feeling the weight of the debris.

'I can't clear all of it… but maybe just enough.'

He extended his hand, letting the Force flow through him. The smaller boulders began to tremble, then shift, grinding against each other with a deafening screech. Anakin's muscles trembled as he poured his focus into the task, his teeth gritting with the effort. Finally, a narrow passage emerged—a gap just wide enough for him to slip through.

He ducked inside, holding his breath as the rocks groaned ominously above him. The air inside was thick and stale, carrying the faint scent of decay. Darkness enveloped him, and for a moment, he could see nothing. But as his eyes adjusted, faint shapes began to emerge—the broken remains of statues and columns, their jagged edges casting eerie shadows.

To his left, a passageway had completely caved in, the rubble forming an impenetrable wall. To his right, the remains of a massive statue blocked the corridor, forcing him to climb over it. The dark side's presence was stronger here, wrapping around him like a shroud.

Finally, he emerged into the central plaza of the academy.

The plaza was a scene of devastation. The once-majestic space was now little more than a graveyard of broken stone and twisted metal. Shattered obelisks lay scattered across the floor, their surfaces etched with faint, glowing runes. The remnants of staircases and pillars jutted out from the rubble, their jagged edges creating a labyrinth of obstacles.

At the center of the plaza lay the largest obelisk, fallen and cracked. Its surface pulsed faintly with an unnatural red light, as if it still held some fragment of the power it once represented. The air here was thicker than ever, vibrating with the energy of the dark side. It was intoxicating and repulsive all at once.

Anakin approached the fallen obelisk cautiously, his footsteps echoing in the eerie silence. His every instinct screamed at him to turn back, but he ignored the fear gnawing at his chest. He had come too far to stop now.

As he drew closer, a strange sensation washed over him. The obelisk seemed to hum with life, as if it was aware of his presence. Faint whispers echoed at the edges of his mind, their words just out of reach.

His hand trembled as he reached out to touch the cold surface. "I can't be afraid," he muttered as his eyes turned cold. "I'll do whatever it takes. I'll become stronger. Strong enough to destroy them all."

The moment his fingers brushed the obelisk, a surge of energy coursed through him. His vision blurred, and the world around him dissolved into darkness.

Anakin's breath caught as the darkness swallowed him whole. He felt weightless, untethered from reality, yet the dark side anchored him, pulling him deeper into the void. The world around him began to shift, blurring and reforming until he stood in a new scene, vivid and terrifying.

He was surrounded by chaos.

The red-skinned Sith species, their faces twisted with rage and ambition, clashed violently against one another. Blades cut through the air, sparks flying as they met with deadly precision. Blood sprayed across the ground, pooling around the feet of those still standing. The dark side radiated from them, wild and unrestrained, feeding the fury of their battle.

Anakin flinched as one Sith drove his sword through another's chest, the dying warrior's scream piercing the air. The victor turned, only to be cut down moments later by a pair of others. There was no order, no strategy—just pure, brutal survival.

'They're killing each other to survive and thrive' Anakin thought, horrified yet fascinated. 'This is what Maul is training me for.'

The scene shifted abruptly, and Anakin found himself in a massive chamber, its walls adorned Insignia he couldn't recognize. Thousands of Sith knelt in unison, their heads bowed before a towering figure clad in black ebon armor. The figure's presence was overwhelming, a vortex of power and darkness. In his hands, he wielded a massive battle-ax, its blade glowing faintly with crimson light.

The Sith chanted, their voices rising and falling in a rhythm that reverberated through the Force. Anakin couldn't understand their words, but one stood out, repeated with reverence: "Sith'ari."

Anakin realized. His chest tightened. 'The ultimate Sith.'

The scene changed again, faster this time. A human male stood amidst a circle of red-skinned Sith, their faces filled with fear and awe. With a casual gesture, the man raised his hand, and the room erupted into chaos. Dozens of Sith clutched their throats, their bodies convulsing as the Force crushed the life from them. The survivors whispered frantically among themselves, but Anakin could only discern one word: "Typhojem."

The name echoed in his mind, carrying with it a sense of dread. 'Who are they ?'

The vision shifted again, showing a different side of the Sith. Anakin saw the red-skinned species working alongside humans and other aliens, their differences set aside in pursuit of strength. Cities rose, their spires gleaming under the sun. Armies trained in unison, their discipline unmatched. The strong led, and the weak were discarded. It was a society built on power, and it thrived as they entered their warships and flew into space.

But prosperity was fleeting.

The scene dissolved into chaos as fleets of capital ships filled the skies. Anakin watched as massive vessels exchanged fire, their weapons tearing through hulls and igniting explosions that lit the heavens. Bombers rained destruction on the cities below, reducing them to smoldering ruins.

By the time the battle ended, nothing remained of the Sith fleet. Their cities lay in ashes, their people scattered and dying. The red-skinned species that had just dominated the galaxy began to vanish, their bloodlines fading into obscurity. Korriban itself withered, its life drained away, leaving behind the barren wasteland Anakin now stood in.

The vision shifted once more. A new armada descended upon Korriban, their ships sleek and predatory, glowing faintly under the darkened skies. These vessels, far more advanced than what Anakin had seen so far, split into two distinct structures, their dorsal and ventral hulls brimming with weaponry. They filled the sky like a swarm of locusts, blocking out the sunlight.

From these ships came sith acolytes, their lightsabers ignited. They began to rebuild the planet, and build the academy. Then Anakin saw the hallways filled with acolytes training under sith instructors.

Then vision shifted and Anakin saw Sith acolyte and two silver-armored guards blocking path path of man and woman, their stances rigid and weapons ready. The acolyte, a wiry man with a sneer that barely concealed his fear, stepped forward.

"You there! How is it that you are leaving Naga Sadow's tomb alone? You went for the final test, didn't you?" His voice dripped with disdain. "Where is Master Uthar?"

The man stopped, his piercing gaze fixed on the acolyte. His voice was calm but carried a weight that made the guards shift uncomfortably. "Uthar Wynn is dead. I killed him. Now, move aside."

The acolyte recoiled as if struck, his expression shifting from disbelief to outrage. "Impossible! You dare claim to have killed Master Uthar?" He ignited his crimson lightsaber, its menacing glow reflecting in his eyes. "You must be spies, here to sabotage the academy! Guards, take them down!"

The guards hesitated for only a second before raising their blasters. The woman stepped forward, her voice sharp yet composed. "We're not here to harm you. Stand down, and no one else needs to die."

But her words fell on deaf ears. The guards opened fire, their blaster bolts streaking toward the pair. The woman's golden blade ignited with a snap-hiss, its radiant glow casting her in an almost angelic light. She moved gracefully, deflecting each bolt with precision, sending them harmlessly into the walls or ricocheting back into the attackers.

The man moved with calculated lethality, his crimson lightsabers igniting in unison. He stepped into the fray, his blades carving through the air with deadly efficiency. A single sweep disarmed one guard—literally—while the other fell to a deflected bolt that struck him square in the chest.

The acolyte screamed in rage and charged the man, their sabers clashing in a shower of sparks. But the fight was brief. The man's superior skill was evident as he sidestepped the acolyte's wild swings and delivered a swift, precise strike. The acolyte fell to his knees, his lightsaber tumbling from his grasp as he gasped for breath.

"It didn't have to be this way," the man muttered before deactivating his blade.

The woman stepped forward, placing a hand on his shoulder. "They chose fear over reason. Let's go—we have what we came for."

But before they could take another step, the academy doors hissed open, revealing a squad of instructors and acolytes, their crimson lightsabers igniting in unison. One of the instructors, an older man with scars crisscrossing his face, pointed his blade at the pair.

"You killed Uthar and now our guards?" the instructor snarled. "You've brought chaos to this academy. You will die for this !"

The woman sighed, her golden blade still ignited. "We don't want to fight you," she said, her voice steady. "But we will defend ourselves if you force our hand."

The man stepped forward, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade. "You can't win. Move aside, or share the fate of those who already fell."

The instructors and acolytes hesitated, but their resolve held. They charged.

The battle was swift and brutal. The woman moved with grace, her golden blade weaving through the melee like light through darkness. She disarmed acolytes without killing them when she could, her strikes aimed to disable rather than destroy. One instructor managed to lock blades with her, but her calm focus allowed her to break the deadlock and send him sprawling with a Force push.

The man, however, fought like a storm. His strikes were deliberate and lethal, each movement designed to end the conflict as quickly as possible. Lightning arced from his fingertips, sending waves of attackers crumpling to the ground. When one instructor attempted to flank him, he sent the man flying into a wall with a flick of his hand.

Anakin watched in awe. The man's power was overwhelming every movement precise and intentional.

As the last instructor fell, clutching a scorched wound, the chamber grew silent. Only the crackle of the man's remaining lightning echoed briefly before he extinguished his blades. The pair stood amidst the wreckage, their breathing steady, their expressions unreadable.

One instructor, bloodied and gasping, dragged himself forward. "With Uthar Wynn dead," he rasped, "I will take command of this academy—"

Before he could finish, a crimson blade pierced his back. A younger Sith stood behind him, his face twisted with ambition. "No, I will" he declared, igniting a second blade.

Chaos erupted as the remaining acolytes and instructors turned on each other, alliances dissolving into betrayal and violence. The pair stood back, watching as the Sith tore each other apart in a desperate bid for power.

"Let them destroy themselves," the man muttered, his tone devoid of sympathy.

The woman sighed, extinguishing her blade. She turned to him, her gaze softening. "We have what we came for. Let's leave this place."

Together, they stepped away from the carnage, their figures silhouetted against the blazing Korriban sun. Behind them, the screams and clashes of the Sith's infighting faded into the distance.

'What fools' Anakin thought, disgusted. 'Without anyone strong enough to led them, they tear themselves apart.'

More scenes followed, Anakin saw the ruins transformed once more, the academy restored to its former glory. Acolytes trained in the shadow of towering obelisks, their discipline enforced by the ever-present threat of death. Sith Overseers walked among them, their dark robes flowing like shadows.

In the skies above, massive dreadnoughts clashed with enemy fleets. On the ground, Sith troopers clad in black armor fought alongside their commanders, their attacks relentless and brutal. Anakin's attention was drawn to a pureblood Sith standing near a turbo laser battery, his face twisted in rage.

"We've been betrayed!" the Sith shouted. "Why now, when most of our forces attack Tython ?! When we're at our weakest?!"

Behind him, his apprentice smirked. Before the master could react, a red blade ignited through his back. The apprentice sneered. "Maybe we have been, but that's no longer your concern, my 'Master'."

The battle turned against the Sith. Republic forces led by Jedi stormed the academy, their strikes precise and devastating. The Sith were pushed back, their defenders slaughtered. Anakin saw a Jedi strike team corner and kill Darth Soverus, the academy's leader, before retreating into the chaos.

Academy survived albeit weaker. But soon enough another fleet arrived—far more advanced than any Anakin had seen so far.

Its ships unleashed a devastating orbital bombardment, annihilating the academy and the surrounding cities. The planet was left in ruins, its surface scorched and lifeless.

The vision shifted, and Anakin found himself watching as another group of Sith arrived on Korriban. They were numerous, clad in dark robes and wielding crimson blades, but they lacked the power and commanding presence of those who had come before. Their numbers were deceptive, for their strength had been diluted by a doctrine of equality—a Brotherhood that sought to eliminate the very ambition that had once driven the Sith to greatness. They rejected the title of "Darth," calling it a relic of the past that had caused too much infighting. But Anakin could see the irony in their choice; without ambition, their power fractured further.

Anakin observed them closely. Their interactions were marked by distrust and paranoia. Alliances were made and broken in whispers. Their bickering turned to violence at the slightest provocation. He saw one Sith strike another down over a trivial slight, only to be ambushed moments later by a supposed ally. The academy had become a battleground, not of greatness or purpose, but of petty survival.

Among them, one stood apart. He was silent and brooding, his eyes sharp and calculating. He was part of the Brotherhood, but it was clear he didn't share their vision. His presence was unsettling to the others, his quiet observations a mirror to their fears. He watched their infighting with disdain, his contempt for their weakness growing with every passing day.

As another petty skirmish erupted, the man finally spoke, his voice low and deliberate. "You think yourselves strong, but you are nothing. You fear ambition, and in your fear, you have weakened yourselves. You've rejected what it means to be Sith."

One of his peers sneered, stepping forward with his blade ignited. "And you think you're better? We've moved beyond the old ways. You cling to them like a fool."

The man's gaze didn't waver. "The old ways made the Sith great. This... Brotherhood," he spat the word, "is a mockery of what we were. If all are equal, then none is strong. "

The others murmured, some in agreement but most in scorn. The man turned his back on them, his voice carrying a final warning. "You're too afraid of each other to rise above this. You'll destroy yourselves."

He walked away from the academy, leaving behind the jeers and threats of his peers. Anakin followed his retreating figure, the sands of Korriban swirling around him as he disappeared into the horizon.

The vision shifted again. The remaining Sith gathered in the academy courtyard as a messenger arrived. His voice rang out with urgency, carrying the weight of the Brotherhood's grand ambition.

"Everyone! The war is at its pivotal point. We've received orders to gather on Ruusan. If we win this final battle, the Sith will once again rule the galaxy."

A cheer erupted among the Sith. Their earlier divisions were momentarily set aside as they prepared for war. They spoke of victory, of crushing the Jedi once and for all, of the glory that awaited them. One by one, they boarded their ships, the transports rumbling to life and ascending into the blood-red sky.

Anakin watched as the academy grew silent. Days turned to weeks, weeks to years, and not a single ship returned. The Sith who had gone to Ruusan never came back. Their dreams of conquest had ended in fire and destruction. The academy fell into ruin, its walls crumbling and its halls silent. The once-great fortress of the Sith became a tomb, a monument to their failure.

But then, the vision shifted once more. A lone figure approached the ruins, his steps slow but deliberate. Anakin recognized him—the man who had rejected the Brotherhood. He was older now, his face marked by experience and resolve. He entered the ruins of the academy, walking through the desolation as though searching for something.

The man stopped at the base of an ancient obelisk, its surface cracked and worn but still standing. From within his robes, he drew a curved lightsaber and placed it into a slot on the obelisk. The ancient stone seemed to hum with life, the faint glow of inscriptions flickering to light.

The man turned then, and for the first time, his gaze met Anakin's. His voice echoed across the ruins, heavy with authority and purpose.

"I have shown you the past of the Sith," he said, his tone calm but unyielding. "You have seen how they fought among themselves, how their fear of ambition and their greed for power destroyed them. Learn from the mistakes of the old."

He stepped closer, his presence towering and commanding. "Two there should be; no more, no less. One to embody the power, the other to crave it. Remember this lesson, young Sith."

The vision began to fade, the ruins dissolving into the sands of Korriban. Anakin stood alone, the weight of the man's words echoing in his mind. 'Two there should be'. The meaning was clear. As Anakin looked at the fallen obelisk, he noticed the lightsaber should still be inside the obelisk.

Anakin stepped closer, his boots crunching against the rubble. The saber seemed to call to him, the air around it vibrating with an almost imperceptible hum. He reached out cautiously, his fingers trembling as they hovered over the hilt. When his hand finally closed around the weapon, a surge of energy ripped through him.

It was a torrent of raw power, ancient and unrelenting. The weapon felt alive, its energy merging with his own in a way that was both exhilarating and overwhelming. The obelisk dimmed as the saber was removed, its purpose seemingly fulfilled.

Anakin held the weapon before him, its hooked hilt fitting perfectly in his hand. It was sleek yet sinister, its craftsmanship impeccable. Slowly, deliberately, he pressed the activation stud.

With a snap-hiss, the crimson blade sprang to life, its glow illuminating the shattered plaza. The blade hummed with a deep, resonant tone that seemed to pulse in time with his heartbeat. Anakin stared into its red light, his small eyes reflecting its fiery hue.

'Two there should be; no more, no less. One to embody the power, the other to crave it.'

He gave the blade a slow, experimental swing, the weapon cutting through the air with a sharp, menacing hiss. It felt natural in his hand, as though it had been waiting for him all along. For a moment, he stood still, letting the weight of what he had claimed settle over him.

With a flick of his thumb, the blade deactivated, its glow vanishing as the weapon returned to silence. Anakin clipped the saber to his belt, its weight resting against his side like a silent promise.