All characters and plot property of LucasFilm. This story is not used for any kind of private profit. Do not reprint without permission from author.

The man who moved to straighten the parchment seemed to melt out of the darkness itself. Silver body armor glittered in the candleflame, and the long, rich cloak in which he wrapped himself flowed into the unending blackness beyond. Large, elegantly-gloved hands moved to the scroll's center, one long finger gently tracing the heiroglyphs burned into the parchment. His face was hidden from the glow, but the two dark eyes that glittered out of the shadows burned with a light that seemed not entirely from the candle's flame.

The man stood thus for several minutes more, head bent over the table, finger moving down the page of symbols, body motionless as a statue. Then with the suddenness of a predator he moved, rolling up the scroll with one quick, sharp motion. One gloved thumb came down hard over the candle flame, plunging the room into sudden darkness tinged with the acrid smell of smoke. A sliver of moonlight came from the far side of the room and the man headed toward it with long strides, tucking the scrolls under his arm. His boots rang on the flagstones, echoes trailing away into the vaulted ceiling above.

He reached the entryway and pushed open the massive door. Moonlight flooded into the room with a sudden eerie glow, bathing it in an unnatural silver sheen, revealing an immense hall, floor and walls entirely built of hard, dark stone. The man paid the change in brightness no attention, stepping outside with one long deliberate stride and pulling the door to.

The cool night air was a change from the cold and dank interior and he stopped for a brief moment, face turned up to the moon, eyes taking in the imposing temple behind him from which he had just exited. It rose pyramid-like into the cloudless sky, double pinnacles reaching almost to the tops of the tangled jungle canopy that encircled it. In the center between the two spires, a tall statue stood on a pedestal. It glowed faintly in the moonlight, the figure of a tall man, larger than life, dark hair swept back, head bowed on the top of his long staff.

He swept his eyes over it, considered. A good likeness. A little rough along the edges, perhaps, but nevertheless he could recognize his own features. Pride washed over him. Foolish Vodo. If only that misguided Jedi could see him now. Then he would understand.

All the power and all the glory. They would soon know, all of them, how mighty Exar Kun had become.

He broke his gaze, turned and walked from the entrance of the temple, emerging out from between the double pyramidal temple base to the edge of the lake. Slivers of moon glittered on the dark water. He could barely see the stepping stones beneath the surface but his own reflection danced above them, seeming almost to float on the surface.

He knelt, watching his reflection kneel with him. Square features, strong jaw and high cheekbones outlined in the moonlight. Long hair pulled back behind him fell over his shoulder as he moved his head. Eyes gazing out from the shadows seemed bottomless as the waters. He looked behind his image, saw the temple, the dark statue crowning it. So much power flowing from it. He glanced back and forth for a few minutes, hearing the wind whispering in the treetops, How like, and unlike. On impulse he reached back, untied the leather thong that held his hair back, let it blow freely in the night breeze. His reflection, his own live reflection, moved with him and he saw the dark hair fall about his shoulders. The dark statue stood motionless, high and ominous, like an omen in the background.

The wind picked up through the jungle underbrush as he stood, and he stopped, turned slightly. He had heard something.

Nothing. He shook his head. perhaps one of the Massassai bellowing at the moon. The brutes were known to do that every so often. He thought of their violent ways, their barely sentient minds. To think that such a proud race could have fallen so far.

The thought distrubed him for some reason. He frowned, shook his head. He was lord over them, they came and went at the slightest crook of a finger. Like beasts.

The wind rubbed against the treetops of the jungle, moaning. "Exar Kun..."

He stiffened. He had heard it again. The feeling of darkness and dread came creeping over him the same way it had on Dxun, on Korriban. His fingers tightened on the hilt of his lightsaber under the cloak. But the wind subsided and he relaxed. He thought of his slaves again. Like beasts, he'd said. Was he then lord of beasts?

All the power, all the glory he could ever want. Why then did he feel so empty?

Almost violently, he wrenched his fingers from his saber hilt and made his way across the rippling lake in the darkness. His reflection danced on the water, silver and bright, glowing on the surface. The wind whipped his cloak, his long hair. As he stepped to shore it rose, keening.

"Exar Kun..."

He whirled, throwing his head back, fingers flying to his lightsaber. "What?" he shouted into the night sky. "What do you want with me?" He felt stifled, felt the dark energy ripple around him.

But there was no answer. Only the wind. He remained in combat stance for another moment, scanning the jungle. In a part of his mind he noticed the normal jungle nighttime sounds had ceased. Temple spires rose in the distance, imposing, brooding. Nothing.

Suddenly, a movement! Without thought he brought his fear and anger to the fore, raw power lancing out, crackling through the underbrush. Blue flame exploded in a circle around him and through the roaring in his veins he heard tortured screams. He trembled, power lancing out, reducing the brush around him to charred ash. Gasping for breath he brought himself back to the jungle night, collecting himself, feeling the power barely contained inside him.

Running forward through the jungle on the dirt path, he smelled burning flesh. He emerged into a small clearing, saw the bodies. The anger welled up again. Three Massassai, blackened husks fallen to the singed grass. He stood there, cursing silently, feeling the eyes around him.

The anger...it was on me like lightning...

"Dispose of them."

He spoke curtly, knowing the watching eyes were listening also, and stalked out of the clearning without a second glance. Emerging back onto the path, he walked back down the water's edge. He took a deep breath, forcing the anger back under control, a simmering current of power boiling within. He felt the dark presence still there, coaxing it. He resisted, felt the wind, heard mocking laughter on the breeze.

"Exar Kun..."

"Begone, you damned spirits!" He clenched his fists, no longer looking for the source of the voices, for he knew he would find none. "Back into your graves, and leave me!"

The laughter continued, growing fainter, until he could hear it no longer. The wind tugged at his cloak, rippled his reflection on the waters of the lake's mirror surface. Across the way the temple waited, an arcane mausoleum for the shadowed statue that stood between its spires, overlapping his own reflection in the water. He stared at the double images for a moment, feeling a chill run through him.

He had power. All the power he could ever want. Everything he could ever want.

He looked away, turning his back on the reflection of the temple and its indecipherable monument merged with his own, cape swirling in the cold and voiceless wind.