1st of Raevu, Age 312 in the Chain of Decay

Home Forums The Cult of Kerahl Visions of Kerahl Daeviin – The Puzzle

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    The air was stagnant and quiet on board the seemingly abandoned Fury-class interceptor. Daeviin stood just inside the durasteel door that separated him from the exterior of the ship, looking around. It felt like months had passed since he was last onboard. In reality, it has been mere weeks. His mind and body were exhausted from his recent captivity; he slowly made his way to the kolto tank fitted into the ship’s medical bay. With the assistance of the ship’s droid, he was in the tank and his recovery began. It only took seconds for the drugs in the tank to take effect, and his mind went dark..
    Daeviin awoke in an ancient ruin. There was a familiar air about the room, but he had no idea where he was. With no eyes, Daeviin was capable of seeing more than most species could with them. Surprisingly, the ruin was clearly of Miraluka architecture. The walls were made of stone and covered in small indents containing old holocrons. The look and simple design predated both the ancient Je’daii race and the Sith Purebloods. As he stood, he was suddenly aware of shackles at his feet, around his wrists, and another around his chest. They were red in hue, and placed a measurable burden on him. Chains rattled as he tried to shake free. Drawing on his anger, Daeviin lashed out with the Force, and the chains exploded into a fine mist. As he moved to rise up and step forward, the bindings were replaced with a new shackle, blue in color. Through peaceful meditation, the second shackles exploded… only to be replaced then by the red ones again. Activated by the struggle, the nearer holocrons came to life, lighting up. On his left was a beautiful woman wearing blue cloth, her eyes covered with the same. He recognized her as Ashla, one of the old Miraluka Gods. The holoimage began to speak, and Daeviin was shocked by what he heard:

    “There is no emotion, there is peace.” Ashla’s voice was soft, and pensive.
    “Peace is a lie, there is only passion!” a deep, angry voice roared.

    Daeviin’s gaze shot to the opposite side, as another holoimage took shape. This one was much larger than the first, and wore red armor. He was menacing. “Bogan…” Daeviin whispered under his breath.

    “There is no ignorance, there is knowledge,” Ashla spat the words, as if in insult.
    “Through passion, I gain strength!” The red figure shouted, raising a fist.
    “There is no passion, there is serenity.”
    “Through strength, I gain power.”
    “There is no chaos, there is harmony.”
    “Through power, I gain victory…”

    The two continued challenging one another, neither clearly winning the argument. Daeviin felt the chains become heavier, as if weighed down further by their words; their ideologies and conflict began burying and crushing him alive. The two conflicting halves of the Force continued alternating their mantras, heaping a slow, painful death upon him. The room began shaking and breaking apart. Heavy stones fell and vanished, leaving only their weight and presence to crush Daeviin under. The argument got louder and louder, until the buried man, in his last breath, reached out through the Force. Not using the Light or Dark sides. Just the Force.
    The room filled with a presence of the Force, like water, lifting the invisible stones and sand that crippled Daeviin. The argument ceased. The water washed over him and through him, taking away the agony and eons of slavery that he had never suffered.

    “To accept one, is to accept them both. To serve one, is to serve the other.”

    Daeviin forced open the eyes he didn’t have, and beheld the Shadowlord that he instantly knew, and didn’t know. He could not describe or comprehend the massive being before him, and he lay knelt, feeling ashamed that he had dained to look upon the brilliance of his rescuer.

    “You must stand between the Light and Dark to be freed.”

    The behemoth before him spoke in a strong, unfaltering tone. Through the Force, Daeviin could see his benefactor’s feet. The skin was white, and scorched red bone plating adorned it in many places. What could only be called ooze seeped from under the being’s feet where they touched the temple floor. Simple insects climbed up from the ooze, and made their way up His legs, evolving and becoming more complex, then becoming fish and serpents, swimming up the flesh and armor. When they came to His knees they fell off and splashed back into the flesh of His feet.

    “And if you will serve me further, seal your bond with an offering. Then I will accept you, and show you the truth.”

    Daeviin didn’t hesitate. He pulled a blade from his waist and swiftly drew it across his right hand, blood spraying.

    “Anything, my Lord.” And he submitted, laying prostrate before the Shadowlord Kerahl.

    Daeviin woke with a start. He was lying in bed- probably moved there by his ship’s droid after his cycle in the kolto tank had finished. Sitting up, he wiped his brow with both hands, and stared in shock as he realized the open wound on his palm, and the fresh blood smeared across his face.

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