Darth Haagen - Heir to the Sith: Chapter 1 - The Sith Lords

Space is cold. Dead. Harsh.

It is endless blackness filled with the shining stars of the dark night.

Above all, space is a void that has no limits; a vacuum which draws in all living things to substation its being. It is a hunger.

Such is true with Darth Nihilus, a Dark Lord of the Sith. All things exist to serve him, so that he may feed on them until there is –

Nothing. A black void resembling the Dark Lord himself.

There is now only the shell of his armor upon the shell of a man. During a fateful battle in the Mandalorian Wars, he cast aside his code, his being, his identity, and gave in to the dark side of the Force, with the only intent to survive.

His spirit was at first doomed to be confided to the surface of Malachor V, a graveyard of the world on which he had fallen. But he had managed to find a way into known space.

From Malachor’s depth, he tore a vessel which had been a victim of the great battle above what remained of the world’s atmosphere. A ship that should not have even been space worthy.

That is the extent of his power.

He is a wound in the Force, more presence than flesh, and in his wake all life dies.

Sacrificing itself to his hunger.

But he knows that there is no strength to the hunger he possesses. He is already dead, it is simply a question of how many he kills before he dies.

And he knows that there must be one to continue his legacy.

The Dark Lord who intends to destroy all life learned to influence the midi-chlorians, ironically, to create one who will continue his goal of destroying both Jedi and Sith.

And that one, he hopes, will eventually destroy himself.

Silent, Darth Haagen knelt on the bridge of the Ravager as his Master, the Dark Lord Nihilus, held a scarlet blade above his head in a knighting ceremony.

Haagen knew little of his past, nor did he care for it. His only purpose, he knew, was to serve his Master and eventually continue his goal once he had died: destroying all life in the galaxy. Both innocents and criminals. Both Jedi and Sith.

Including, when that was done, he himself.

That was the only future he even considered, for that was the future. His Master had foreseen it.

More importantly to him was the present. The Sith ceremony was now complete. At last, he was a true Sith.

To Haagen’s surprise, the shadow that was Darth Nihilus projected memories into his mind of his training from the beginning of anything he could even recall. Memories of pain, and suffering.

Suffering had only made him stronger.

His Master never spoke to him in Galactic Basic, the standard language used throughout the galaxy, instead preferring to use the Sith language. Haagen had learned the basics of the language from the databanks of the dark world Malachor V, but Nihilus spoke an ancient dialect which Haagen failed to find any information on, and so found unintelligible.

In order to successfully communicate with his apprentice, Nihilus projected images and feelings along with his words into Haagen’s mind.

The memories that the shadow was currently projecting into the young Sith’s mind concluded with the fact – the reminder – that, though he was now a true Sith, he still served him.

“You are the darkness in which all life dies, my lord,” Haagen said bowing with a voice that was as cold as the mountain peek which fueled the fire within himself. “All life exists to feed your power.”

Haagen felt Nihilus’s approval through the Force. Though Haagen was completely loyal to his Master, he still felt a wave of hate for him. Hate for what he had done to him, for the scars that he had inflicted upon him.

Nihilus encouraged this.

Hate, Nihilus told him often, was the essential feeling that a Sith must feel; the driving force that urged him on when no other emotion existed. Most of all, hate unlocked the most powerful dark side energies within him and would win him many battles.

Now the shadow taught Darth Haagen the final lesson: to hate himself.

He himself was the only Haagen really, truly knew. He knew his greatest faults, his weaknesses, his breaking points.

And he would have to hate everything he stood for. The Sith teachings were merely a necessity, the path that must be taken to unlock the hate that would bring complete destruction. The strength that would gain him victory. The victory through which his chains would be broken.

In that single moment, Haagen burned in his own flame of hatred, hatred which he felt for everyone and everything. Hatred for the shadow standing before him, for the bridge he knelt on, for the durasteel which covered the entire vessel, and for the stars themselves.

In the end, the shadow was the only thing he could rely on. Again, Haagen felt his Master’s approval echoing through the Force. He had understood the lesson, a lesson that was the final breaking point of many apprentices, perfectly.

The young Sith rose, prepared for what was to come.

Malachor V was a wasteland of a world plagued by constant lightning storms, surrounded by a graveyard of Mandalorian and Republic ships which had fought in one, devastating battle that had shaken the galaxy to its core. The dormant volcanoes which covered nearly the entire surface had left glittering obsidian everywhere, as well as sickly green pools of acid.

The planet suffered, crush in its gravity’s grip. To walk on its surface was to feel it crushing every cell of one’s body.

It had not always been so. Once, Malachor had been a lush, tropical world full of forests and thick vegetation.

That had been before the Mash Shadow Generator. Before the great battle that had been fought on its surface. The climax of the Mandalorian Wars, which proved only to have masked another war.

The Trayus Academy, built by ancient Sith, the True Sith, had somehow survived what should have been its destruction. Now it served as a base for the Sith Triumvirate, the remnants of Revan’s empire led by three Sith Lords.

The Triumvirate was led by Darth Nihilus, the Lord of Hunger; Darth Sion, the Lord of Pain; and Darth Traya, the Lady of Betrayal.

The massive Trayus Core stood on a high peak. From above, it looked as if the pillars were claws, and the red circle in the center, the only source of artificial light nearby, an eye.

This was where the councils of the Sith Lords were held. Though Darth Haagen had no active participation in them, he watched and listened, studying.

Darth Traya: The one who had reestablished the Sith Triumvirate. The one who had been betrayed, and who had betrayed in turn. Traya was, Haagen noted, extremely manipulative, constantly using others.

Darth Sion: It was clear as a crystal on Ilum as to why he was called the Lord of Pain. Not only did he inflict unimaginable pain on others, he himself must have been suffering constantly from the horrific wounds which covered his entire body. Sion was a walking corpse.

Though Haagen was now a Lord of the Sith, he still found the sight of Sion unnerving. He must have been in constant pain from such injuries.

“What answers have you come here for, apprentice?” Sion said turning to face him with an unnaturally deep voice, and what Haagen what was left of a Coruscanti accent.

“I am no longer an apprentice, Sion,” Haagen said. It felt odd to have a conversation with someone; he rarely did such with actual words. “I am a Sith Lord.”

“Not that it matters,” the mutilated Sith replied apathetically. “What matters is your strength. Your will. Your abilities. Your pain.”

This was the main difference between the three Sith Lords. Pain, hunger, and betrayal.

“And hunger for power.”

“So your Master would teach you. Be wary. Do not let others control you, shape your will…as was done to me.”

At first Haagen assumed that he had meant his Master, but then he realized that he meant another: Traya.

If I am to become stronger than the three, I must use their combined strengths. My training from my lord was only the beginning.

“What can you teach me, Lord Sion?”

“From your Master, you learned hunger. What I teach, what I am, is pain.”

“I have endured much pain from my own Master.”

“If you think you have lived through true pain, you have yet to see,” Sion replied with a tinge of anger, and turning his back to him as if the conversation was over.

Accepting his failure, Haagen attempted to speak with Darth Traya. She usually ignored him, but perhaps she would think differently of him now that he was a Sith Lord.

She didn’t.

“Your presence defies me,” she said. “It defies this Triumvirate. You are an abomination of the Force. All your interests lie in death, in conquering, in hate, in anger, in control. Understand that there is no way you can redeem yourself in my eyes.”

“Through, I will gain victory. Through victory, my chains will be broken,” Haagen said while trying to hide his anger.

“Indeed?” she replied, disgusted. “And what will these “unbroken chains” bring you? What is the meaning of the culmination of so many victories? No side, Jedi or Sith, lasts forever. It is a constant struggle, an eternal balance. That is why you must look beyond light and dark…something, I know, you will never succeed in.”

“Only a fool would attempt to use the Force with a balance beyond light and dark. Only by succumbing to one, single side, can you become strong.”

“Oh, yes. Succumb to the Jedi and their barren beliefs, which even they don’t believe except for the blindest of fools – and it’s hard to imagine even them believing such foolish concepts. The alternative, as you say, is succumbing to the dark…succumbing to hate. To recklessness. Your hate will blind you, Darth Haagen. Hate hides the stark clarity that even the Jedi can see. Only by balance, can you achieve lasting power and still remain the very same person that you were before. Uncorrupted.

“In the meantime, I would advised looking in the Trayus Archives,” she continued. “Perhaps, if you come to understand what the Force truly is, what its wielders should be, there is the faintest hope that you will hear.”