He spoke, but she struggled to hear him. His voice felt far away, though his body resided only paces from hers. The throbbing of her heart between her ears, and the heaviness of her own ragged breathing, consumed her. Would taking a life ever get easier?

Then his hands were on her shoulders, his breath on her face. His eyes. They anchored her back in reality, and she forced herself to gaze deeper within them. They were such a unique shade of green, like an old, glass medicine bottle. Medicine bottle green. And so comforting. She allowed herself to focus on his eyes, the weight of his hands on her shoulders, and the sound of his voice. Finally, the words regained their clarity.

Swallowing the last of her unease, and shelving her negative emotions for the time being, she joined Yerbol in approaching the light. "I've never heard of it before," she confessed, her voice a whisper given the circumstances. They moved slowly, giving her a moment to speak. "But you've always been the scholar. I'm just the pilot." Humor had always been her best defense.

But Leoria's smile wilted, nearly as quickly as it had blossomed. A darkness settled over her, sudden and suffocating. First, it was merely heavy, like a wool blanket enveloping her. But then it began to burn. The blackness gave way to white, hot and fiery. Yerbol began to tremble beside her, his wails filled the large space. She wanted to demand that he stop the noise, and when he begged her to act, to remove the object, she wanted to tell him no. But there was still a small sliver that remained untainted, keeping the girl's head above the rising tide of hatred. And that part of her led her to the pedestal, leaving Yerbol as he collapsed to the ground.

She directed her anger toward the triangular object. How dare it inflict such pain? It had no right. Was this the thing that had killed those troopers? The thought was the last thing needed to bring her blood to a full boil. Her common sense urged her to pull down the sleeve of her robe, covering her bare skin before she let unbridled madness take over. With a dark, animalistic shout, her arm struck the item, knocking it off balance. It fell to the ground with a loud clank, and skidded twice before coming to rest at the foot of the large wall.

Or, at the very least, where a wall had been seconds before. It seemed that removing the object had triggered some sort of trap door, just large enough for two people to enter side-by-side. The anger that bubbled within her had not yet stilled by the time Yerbol stirred. As such, when he called out to her, her response was harsher than intended. "Yes, it's me. Now come on. I found a door."

"A...door...?" As he rose, he shook his head, trying to clear the thick malaise that had swallowed his mind. The Knight took a step forward, staggering to the left, leaning on one of the stone pillars for support. His vision began to clear up, allowing Yerbol to see the path that had opened up.
"Right...we..keep..goin..." His stride was slow, but steadier than the last couple of moments had proven, giving him the ability to move forward. As the duo walked down the stone hallway, Yerbol heard a grating sound, turning his head to find that the wall had slid back into place, trapping them. He attempted to try and conjure up something witty to ease the tension, but then-

"Fools!" Master Ragnos hissed, his crimson lightsaber coming to life as the others surrounded him. The True, the Heralds, they were the ones who would bring order to a galaxy that needed it and they would restore all-

Yerbol found himself standing next to Leoria, except they weren't in the hallway. Instead, they stood in a room with ancient looking bookshelves, parchment and silk scrolls spilling off of them.

"They knew! They knew of the power and REJECTED IT! Don't you see how they cannot be the descendants of who they claim to be? And yet the Dark Council is allowing them to-

At the very north of the chamber stood a large chunk of stone, easily ten feet in height. On the stone were engraved words, language that Yerbol had never seen before, but felt that it was...bleeding into him. Inviting him to draw in as much knowledge as he could muster, because he knew, he knew what the words said, he knew that...

"The Heralds..." He walked to the stone, tracing his fingers in the indentations, the words glowing a soft orange. The light behind the words began to pulsate, turning to a bright orange-red before he was knocked back, the stone breaking into pieces. In it's wake was an obsidian cube, crimson light emitting from the top and sides.
"That's it...that's what we're here for." He knew. He scooped up it in his hands and he knew.
"This..."

"...will be buried. No one can discover what we found." Master Pall grimaced as he walked away from the pedestal, the triangular object levitating.
"And what if they return?" Master Akilri asked, her dark irises searching his. He stayed silent.

His eyes opened, clarity finally returning to his mind. He felt himself again, but the knowledge he felt he possessed now.
"Ria, the scrolls...what do they say on them?"

The loud grating, and the final thud, set Leoria's heart racing. Blame the lingering negative emotions, or her basic unladylike tendencies, but the Jedi Knight swore loudly. Without the light that had streamed down the hallway, the chamber in which they stood was doused in near-darkness. Only faint hints of light trickled through the cracks in the tomb, just barely able to permeate the thick rock. It was hardly enough to see by, and out of habit, the girl drew her lightsaber. Now bathed in purple light, she stomped back toward the door.

"How?" she groaned on a heavy, frustrated breath. Her fingertips traced the seal between the door and the wall, unable to detect even a slight breeze between. They were trapped there, there was no doubt about that. But how, or perhaps more importantly, why? Leoria's jaw worked, her empty hand combing through her blonde hair, which was growing damp with worry. That damn worry again, came a fleeting thought, but she just as quickly thrust it away. With another quick motion, the girl wiped her sweaty palm across her robe. And is it getting hot in here?

As she had been investigating the door, Yerbol had been exploring on his own. Hushed murmurs had been lost on her, but when he called to her directly, she turned. "Scrolls?" she repeated, slowly moving alongside her friend to. Clasped in his hands was a shimmering cube, its colors reminiscent of those found in the planet's sky. She drew a long, deep breath. It was beautiful, and memorizing, and her voice trembled when she asked again. "What scrolls?"

Then she followed his gaze. In the dim light, now multi-colored with the help of the square object, she saw the shelves. It was odd, she thought, that he was able to make out the contents so easily. Because of the lack of light, she moved so close that she was nearly atop them before she found the scrolls he spoke of. Her confusion only deepened as she opened the first scroll, carefully balancing it on the dusty shelf with her free hand. Carefully, she brought her saber closer, reading by the violet light.

"Yerbol, these scrolls are blank. There is nothing on them."

"No, no, they can't be." He pointed to where the stone carving had once been.
"See? That language, couldn't you read it? It talked about this chamber being the last one in all of the known galaxy to possess knowledge of the Heralds, the true Sith." As the words tumbled out of him, he realized that what he was saying was both foreign and familiar, distant and close. He had never studied anything about things called "Heralds", but it was as if he was intimately familiar with their cause, their struggles to regain control of a lost Sith Empire that was rightfully their own.

He walked to Leoria, peering over her shoulder to find that the scroll she claimed was blank had a flowing script emblazoned in an orange hue, the letters glowing off the page. Reading aloud, he began at the top of the section Leoria was examining:
"The space and time that the Empire occupies is wasted. Their true potential is left undisturbed as they meander through their empty hallways and meaningless accolades. We have tried. We have tried so many times to enlighten them, but they refuse us. They lock the very essence of Sith beneath their supposed home planet. We retreat for now, recede into the folds of space. We will return when the time is right, when the balance of the Sith must be restored. Then and only then can the galaxy be reclaimed." A slight chill snaked down his spine, settling at his lower back, unwilling to go away.
"They're going to come back, Ria...they were always going to come back, they-"

They stand on the precipice of actuality, the final convulsion of the Empire complete. His dark crimson colored face broke into a smirk, tendrils pierced with the rings demarcating him as their head, their true Master. they

He was slumped against the wall, hands at this temples.
"They won't stop, they're coming, they're coming, they have to be here." His eyes wildly looked around the room, body trembling.
"We have to get back, have to, have to..." The wall he was bracing against began to feel...tingly? Almost like an electric current was running through it. He stood up as much as he could, hands visibly crackling with energy.
"What..."

The words tumbled from his trembling lips like the babbling of an old, crazed man. He spoke of Heralds, the true Sith. Then he spoke of the Empire, a wasted space, and a galaxy waiting to be reclaimed. With this, his tone changed, growing more robotic in nature. Like he's reading, the blonde thought, her gaze never wavering from the blank scroll. Her small frame shuddered.

This time, it was her turn to comfort her friend. With a single, fluid motion, she returned her lightsaber to its rightful place on her hip. Now lit only by the red-yellow light of the cube, the Knight let the scroll tumble to the dirty floor. It rolled a few feet before settling against the base of the shelf she had drawn it from. Both hands, small, but firm, grasped Yerbol's arms. Instinctively, her thumbs stroked the cloth of his robe, a small and ineffective, but genuine gesture intended to calm him. She leveled her hard, cold gaze on him. "Listen to me, Yerbol," Leoria began, her tone steady, supported by all of the calm she could muster. "You need to relax. You need to calm down, do you understand? I don't know what is happening to you." Or if anything is happening to you. Maybe you've just gone crazy. That paper was blank, was it not? "I am going to help you." Will I help you the way I helped those troops? This thought caught her breath in her throat, and she could only give a choked gasp as her companion pulled away. She was left, arms outstretched, as he slumped to the floor. The cube he had held fell to the ground, and without thinking, she scooped it up. Now clutching the only light source, she focused on the boy. Something was wrong.

"Yerbol," she cried, and then more urgently when his hands began to crackle with energy. "Yerbol!" Lightning. His fingertips danced with the same electricity that she had seen before. The same electricity that the troops had used. And she had killed them. I'm going to have to kill him too.

"No," she growled softly. Her better judgement warred with her immediate sense of panic, and her hands shook as they held the artifact. "No, I won't. I can't. I won't." It was hot, so hot. A fine layer of sweat dusted her brow, shimmering like diamonds in the dim light. Why was it so hot? "Yerbol," she said once more, voice now only a weak groan. "Please, stop. Please. Its hot."

And then it wasn't. It began with a cold breeze, drifting from no place in particular. It was impossible, of course, as Leoria had just checked for openings. But there it was. Her damp skin grew cold beneath the impossible breeze, and as her jaw dropped in surprise, she watched her own impossible breath condense, and carry away like smoke. In the darkness, something had appeared. Something impossible. It flickered oddly, seeming to blink in and out of existence, but she could not deny what she saw. A layer of snow.

Underneath his boots, there was a crunching sound. He looked down, breath crystallizing into vapor.
"Snow..." He brought his hands in front of him, turning them over. The surge of energy he had just experienced seemed to have pass, his hands not crackling with power. His head felt much clearer and the serenity of the now snowy room helped. He took a couple of steps forward, his legs shaking momentarily before straightening out. Although the snow was comforting, the darkness that had enveloped the room was not, Yerbol once again channeling some of the Force in order to illuminate his right hand. He started forward again, hand out in front. The room was beginning to get coated in snow, scrolls developing a thin layer of white on their exterior. Another few paces revealed Leoria, her eyes cast ahead.
"Ria?" He placed the non-illuminated hand on her arm.
"Ria, I have no idea what's happened...well, really, what's happening to us, but I do know we need to get out of here. We can't handle this by ourselves." The young Knight strolled to one of the shelves, grabbing a couple of the scrolls before making his way back to this compatriot.
"We can make it out of here...we just retrace our steps, find our way out."

The cowards will never escape. Broken, in agony...they will taste the true power of the Sith. They-

"No! Enough!" He shook his head violently. Voices, whispers, the things he had seen seemed to vaporize in an instant. When they got back to Coruscant, they could talk to the Masters, get this all sorted out. Then a drink. Yes. A tall, tall, tall glass filled with liquor and other various things that would enable them to forget about this odd time.
"You going to be ok to get back to the shuttle?" As the last word fell out of his mouth, the snow that had once occupied the room suddenly vanished, dropping them back into their original surroundings.
"Alright, if that wasn't a sign we need to go, I don't know what it is. Come on."

Emerging from the tomb, Yerbol noted that the once blazing sun had departed, leaving them with pale moonlight to guide them back. A chill had descended upon the desert planet, Yerbol thankful for their swift departure...or at least he hoped.

The snow, as unexpected as it had been, seemed to be just what the pair had needed. Her own anxiety had cooled, giving way to mere worry, which sat heavy in the pit of her stomach. Yerbol had also calmed, his demeanor returning to the cool, collected normal that she had come to depend on. His hand was a firm, steady weight on her arm, and she returned a soft nod of thanks.

As the boy spoke of escape, Leoria shrugged her way out of her robes. Carefully, nearly painstakingly so, she wrapped the shimmering orange cube in the cloth. Briefly, she thought that it had seemed to lose a bit of its brilliance; even against the darkness, the bright light was not so stark. She chalked it up to Yerbol's force illumination, though that was mostly because she did not wish to dwell any longer than necessary. The experience had been so incredibly wrong, and the more she thought about it, the tighter the knot in her stomach grew. It had been like a nightmare, watching her friend's sanity slip away. And what had the snow been about? Was this the mysterious power of the artifact? Not taking any chances, the woman mused. Little did she know, the damage had already been done.

She was unable to do anything, and could only watch helplessly as her companion continued to mutter to himself. His mannerisms were more familiar, and she had almost been convinced that he was entirely back to being himself. But the words that he shot into the emptiness of the cavern still sent goosebumps racing up and down her now bare arms.

It was his voice that startled her from the thought. The snow was gone, she noted, but that was not at the forefront of her mind; somehow, it had not been the strangest event of the day. Through a tight-lipped frown, she confessed the concern that plagued her. "Yes, we should go," she agreed, "but I'm not sure that I'm okay. Not really." The pair walked in silence as they retraced their steps, Leoria trying to find the words, and Yerbol giving her the time and space to do so. The door that had trapped them had opened once more, perhaps triggered by the removal of the artifact she clutched to her chest. And she choked back a bout of nausea as she passed the scattered, lifeless bodies of the troops. It was not until the approached the ship, now doused in milky moonlight, that she spoke again.

"I don't feel right. About this whole thing. About what you did. About what I did. Or, what I think I did." The blonde drug her lower lip between her teeth before adding, "I was so focused on the heat. I was so hot, and all I wanted was the cold. I thought of it, and how badly I wished I could cool down. And then... there it was." Her voice trailed, and she recognized how pathetic it sounded. "I know it doesn't make sense. But, nothing does. Not right now."

(oohh, milky moonlight...I like that a lot! Mind if I steal that phrase? xD)

"No, and nothing will make sense until we have our minds cleared, which means getting off this cursed rock."

Cursed it is!

He shook his head, waiting for Ria to board the shuttle before he clambered into it, slamming the hatch control on the left of the entrance with the side of his fist. As the door closed, he threw his robe on the back of the co-pilot's chair, his large frame collapsing into the seat. His right hand moved to massage his temple, eyes shutting for a few moments. That last whisper that had flitted through his mind would hopefully be the end of whatever had infected him in the tomb. And if it wasn't...well, the Masters were two days away. He needed to hold on. For both their sakes.

________________

He had told Leoria upon the jump to hyperspace that he would be "shutting his eyes for a bit" and to wake him at the first sign of trouble. Trouble never arrived, which prompted the Knight to fall into a deep slumber, hours flying by. His muscles would twitch every so often, a soft mumble here or there, but nothing out of the ordinary that would be cause for alarm. What stirred him from his now twelve hour slumber was a pinging sound coming from the comm unit directly in front of him. He groaned, rubbing his eyes as he fumbled for the comm channel switch. Once he activated the frequency receptor, the projections of their Masters appeared. Mansuto's face looked drained of it's normal dark green hue, his forehead creased with worry.
"We have been trying to reach you both. This is urgent."
"Master, I thought-"
"We know, we mentioned radio silence, but this is of the utmost importance. You must NOT go back to Coruscant. Do not ask why. We must meet at Felucia. Sending you the coordinates now. Bring whatever you recovered from the tomb and we will see you there."
"But-" The transmission ended.
"He needs to make sure that's not a habit." He grumbled, looking to the pilot's chair to find that his companion was not occupying it.
"Hey, Ria? You hear that? We're headed to Felucia. I'll input the coordinates." As he did so, he realized he hadn't had a chance to check in with his friend.
"Hey, so...there a reason you're not sitting next to your dashing co-pilot? Do I reek?"