Dark Son (Chapter 3)

Suddenly, the silver gryphon and its rider burst through a solid wall of water, entering the eye of the storm. They were met with the sight of a black spire, rising out of the waters. It was so tall that Xendor had to raise his head to see the peak where it pierced the swirling clouds.

“This…”

Speechless, the Knight could only stare at the ancient structure. He’d never seen anything like it in all his travels.

‘We simply call it The Dark Tower. Its true purpose has been lost to time, but currently it serves as a prison for my Brother.’

Through their telepathic bond, the Sister spoke quietly.

The two approached the structure swiftly before touching down on one of the ramparts. A wave of light rippled outwards and receded, and suddenly Xendor found himself on his feet again.

“Come, the air here is extremely cold and I can’t maintain your barrier forever.”

Having recovered her humanoid form, the Sister headed for the single, narrow door – carved into the side of the tower. Like when she’d visited alone, it swung open by itself, the Force not even rippling.

She entered first, vanishing into the darkness.

Feeling a drop of cold sweat sliding down his back, Xendor followed after.

The moment he felt himself being swallowed by the shadows, the hairs all over his body stood on end. Involuntarily sucking in a few lungfuls of air, he felt the unease from before turn into full blown panic.

Since childhood, he’d been gifted in the ways of the Force. In fact, it wasn’t an exaggeration to say he’d never known life without it; the mysterious, esoteric psychic-energy field being as omnipresent as the very air he breathed.

However, the moment that narrow, stone door slammed shut behind him, his connection to the Force severed entirely. There was a deafening silence inside his mind like nothing he ever felt.

The surging strength he possessed vanished without a trace, the invisible barrier covering his body like a suit of armor was no longer there and the finely crafted field of Force-threads - almost like an extra sensory organ - disappeared as well.

He felt vulnerable like never before—an average, Forceless mortal.

Involuntarily clenching his hands into fists, he realized they were shivering.

“I’m sure you realized it by now—this place is completely dead to the Force. My Father chose it for that reason.”

Suddenly, Xendor saw the Sister’s hand on his shoulder, a weak white light emanating from it. Turning his head, his brown eyes locked with her crystal-blue ones.

“Outside, the Dark is strong, but here… the air is as dead as the inside of a crypt.”

The physical contact helping somewhat, he calmly gave voice to the thoughts inside his head. Rather, he tried, but wasn’t quite able to keep himself from trembling.

The look in the Sister’s eyes turned concerned.

“I’m aware of how unsettling the Dark Tower can be. For a long time after his imprisonment, I didn’t dare visit my Brother out of fear for this place. I’m ashamed of my cowardice, but this feeling of… desolation is truly horrible.”

Her tone was a mix of shame and regret, but then she seemingly shook off such thoughts. Taking the lead, she guided the two of them toward the bowls of the tower.

Xendor followed closely, not wanting to fall outside the small circle of light.

For a time, they walked in silence, the oppressive darkness smothering the Knight’s words before they could leave his mouth. Despite its outside appearance, the interior was truly gargantuan, their footsteps not even echoing against the stone floor.

Suddenly, the Sister came to a stop and held her arm out.

“Be careful—the pit is coming up ahead. If you fall in, I won’t be able to save you.”

She turned her head, gazing at him with an expression of deadly seriousness.

“There are stairs carved into the side; since I can’t transform in here, we’ll need use them for our descent.”

“…”

Nodding gravely, Xendor clutched the ‘key’ strapped to his waist. In his vulnerable, weakened state, the blade gave him a sense of security.

The Sister continued staring at him before her features softened, showing an encouraging smile.

“Don’t worry. Just follow my lead and you’ll certainly be able to leave this planet.”

After speaking, she turned, continuing their journey through the darkness.

Xendor followed, feeling his heart beating in his chest. At first, he held onto the belief that planet Mortis’ inhabitants were simply a different kind of Force-wielders—old and powerful, but ultimately not that different from their counterparts in the wider universe.

However, as he remained here, seeing stranger and stranger things, that worldview gradually eroded. The feeling wasn’t pleasant at all, knowing that despite what he’d learned and experienced, he actually didn’t have much of a clue what went on in the galaxy.

Or perhaps more frustratingly, his entire philosophy on the Force – going so far as to promote a rebellion, taking many Jedi with him – might be just as narrow-minded as that which he’d left behind.

For a moment, he felt as if he was on a rickety ship bobbing on the swells; moving up and down, left and right without any stability…

“We’ve arrived.”

Turning her head, the Sister glanced at Xendor’s face, then seeing he wasn’t looking so good, she frowned.

“It might be better for you to hold on to me until we get to the bottom.”

After speaking, she turned her back to him again, gesturing to put a hand on her shoulder.

Xendor pride felt rankled, but nonetheless followed the Sister’s suggestion.

Like that, the two of them descended the winding steps, carved into the side of the pit.

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By the time they reached the bottom, Xendor’s body felt like it was made out of lead. There was no way to tell time down here, but he knew his condition best—it was impossible to grow this tired from a few hours of exercise.

The Sister’s eyes peered into the darkness ahead, looking toward where the chains converged.

“We’re here, Brother. Are you awake?”

Her voice was a bit hesitant—usually, her sibling would start chatting with her the moment she set foot inside the tower. However, this time he’d remained quiet from start to finish; out-of-character for him.

Suddenly, the sound of metal scraping against metal could be heard, as well as the slow intake of breath.

“Ah, Sister—it’s good to hear your voice. Pardon me, I must’ve fallen asleep while waiting for you. Hmm, but tell me, did you bring that off-worlder?”

A dry and dusty voice, coming from a throat that sounded like it hadn’t tasted a drop of water in ten thousand years, suddenly spoke from somewhere ahead.

Xendor exchanged a glance with the Sister.

The Knight, hearing the Brother’s voice, looked like someone just walked over his grave. Unconsciously clutching the dagger at his waist, he squinted warily into the darkness.

“Yes, we’re both here and we brought the ‘key’…”

The Sister raised her hand into the air, the light-aura around her suddenly flaring brighter.

The dark was almost like a cloth, covering the furniture of a derelict home. In a single moment, it was tossed aside, revealing the interior to the visitors' eyes.

The first thing they saw were the chains—perhaps two-dozen in all. Then, where they converged; a strange sort of… altar rising out of the floor like a solid piece of rock. And on top of it - lying flat on its back – was a dark figure.

Suddenly, it levitated up from its platform, the head rising above its feet until a sarcophagus of grey metal directly faced them.

It looked like a suit of seamless, jagged armor—postured with its arms crossed and its feet together. The face was skull-like and demonic, two baleful red orbs staring out of its empty sockets.

After up-righting himself, the Brother’s eyes slid across the barren stone chamber, coming to rest on Xendor.

“From the looks of it, you’ve had an arduous journey. Unfortunately, my hands are tied—otherwise I’d have at least offered you a glass of water.”

The humor in his tone was about as dry as his voice. Emphasizing for effect, a rattle came from inside the sarcophagus—he’d essentially been entombed alive.

Xendor stared at the contraption in silence. Despite this place being entirely dead to the Force, he felt a strong premonition of danger.

Thinking about it rationally, it didn’t make any sense—locked up as he was, the Brother could do little more than move his eyes.

“I am Xendor, hailing from planet Kashi. Once, I was a member of the Jedi order, but…”

He started introducing himself, but the Brother sighed loudly, interrupted him before he could get far.

“Don’t bother, mortal. After being imprisoned for so long, I thought I might at least derive some idle entertainment from an off-worlder like you. However, it all suddenly seems so pointless to me...”

The atmosphere changed, like a heavy weight settling over the conversation.

“Loosen my bonds so that I may return you to your world.”

“…”

Xendor exchanged glances with the Sister, seeing her give him a serious nod.

His hand tightened around the dagger near his waist before walking over to the demonic coffin. A pair of piercing, evil eyes followed his movements, the look in them full of disregard.

Gritting his teeth, Xendor tried resisting the intense mental pressure he was under. The Brother's aura alone was enough to slow his movements, almost like wading through a pool of cement.

The Sister had already told him what to do before arriving—there was a groove in the altar, meant to fit the key. After inserting it, he needed to turn the radial mechanism until a single click was produced, but no further.

As a third party, he was the only one able to perform the task—the Father, fearing the Sister’s affection for her Brother would cause her to act unreasonably, bound the ‘key’ with a mystical seal. Not only did it prevent her from releasing her sibling, she couldn’t even hold it.

Seeing the groove at the bottom of the altar, Xendor withdrew the dagger from his waist, slotted it into the groove and turned it once.

His senses were screaming at him that this was a bad idea, that loosening the Brother’s seals was foolish. However, he didn’t give himself any chance to hesitate—not only was there no other way off the planet - given the Father’s sleep persisting for centuries - but he had the Sister to back him up in case things went south.

There was a low, mechanical noise - like something being undone – before the Brother’s coffin lit up, lines of violet light appearing on the grey metal construct.

Seeing this, Xendor took a few steps backward, unconsciously shifting into a fighting stance.

Suddently, there was a strange grinding noise, followed by a faint trembling. A fine coating of dust was shaken off the sarcophagus, the fingers of one gauntlet starting to twitch.

“Ahhh… how wonderful, having a little bit of freedom after all this time.”

The Brother’s voice rang inside the cavern, possessing a strange, echoing note that hadn’t been there before.

“How long has it been—a thousand years, ten thousand or a hundred thousand? I can’t even remember.”

“..”

Xendor simply stood there, unable to speak. His system was experiencing a massive shock—almost like being crushed from all sides. It was as if he was compressed to the thickness of a single piece of paper; he couldn’t even breathe.

Like a clap of thunder, there was a mind-numbing influx of Force-energy, rushing in to fill the void created by the tower’s sorceries.

In front of the Knight’s eyes, the Brother’s figure started to bend and distort, a violet-red haze of energy gathering around him.

He felt as if reality itself was starting to fray, the rules underpinning existence dissolved by the ancient being’s power.

“Brother…!”

From behind, Xendor heard the Sister’s voice. However, he couldn’t even turn his head—the only thing he could see was his vision turning red, blood surging out of his eyes and nose, splattering onto his clothes and the stone floor.

A black, armored hand approached his face before everything went black.

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