Memoirs and Recollection of a Fractured Heart - Sovernus Nova

[Lord Iezkon]

Entry 19# of Horuset Chronicles

Accumulation of Power

“A true museum is a place where time is transformed into space.”

An age-old wisdom purported to be spoken by another ancestor of mine, Narevig Nova “The Collector”. An Arkanian of opulent and luxurious taste, whose interest in collecting was as voracious as the most gluttonous of beasts. Driven by ambition and a will to possess everything, he descended to an almost obsessive compulsion of seizing all within his reach. Much of the family’s wealth staggered in the wake of his collective design, believing that an abundance of wealth and credits were immaterial in comparison to the tangible assets and rare materialistic delights that could be exchanged for it. Yet in spite of an image of a frivolous money spender, it was nothing in comparison to his more deprave obsessions.

 
Verily he was more interested in collecting knowledge, artifacts and scriptures of old—Believing them to be the only worthy aspiration to strive for. And when knowledge was not enough, he started collecting souls. Preying on those whose businesses relied on loans and financial aid from House Nova, scheming meticulously to force them into life debts and mortgage their souls. House Nova saw a rapid decline in its prosperity underneath the weight of his rule, yet inversely had raised much of its assets and influence over several families that inevitably became its vassals.

His ideals were often misconstrued by scholars as detrimental, often lauded as a disgrace to the Nova legacy, yet I understood the wisdom behind his seemingly scandalous façade. He understood the significance of influence, knowledge and converting intangible resources into reality. And as the wealth of House Nova gradually recovered in subsequent generations; due to his contributions, the family holds the candle to the monopoly of material wealth that was accumulated during his era.

Spoiler: Absent Teachings

A sense of curiosity flows through my veins no different than blood.

Perhaps that is the fateful curse of a Nova, an inherent desire to engorge on information and details. It’s no surprise that the Sith is intertwined with our legacy, for knowledge is power and House Nova understands the depths of such in an even deeper and severe standard. Even to apply it in ways that are considered inconceivable by most.

Hence it has become tiresome to witness all these manifestations of the Force and be found lacking in its vocation. My mind trails to all the singular moments where others knowledge of advanced techniques and powers diminished the effectiveness of my tactics and strategy. Frustration fueled me that blunt force without precision continues to thwart my combat methods. I had to engorge on these abilities and convert it to my own, and unveil the true extent of what those abilities can do with a mind of ingenuity.

Lord Sanguinis provided the utter bare minimum of what is required to be an apprentice. After several months, he brought me to an obscure temple that was a focal point of the Dark Side. Detailing the methods of creating a crystal meant to be the first lightsaber within my disposal. There were two methods in manifesting such, yet I was drawn to the more potent method that forcefully would have drained much of my endurance.

By the end of the creation, I methodically created the lightsaber with the same duranium alloy that derived from the ore from his challenge. The selection of such was to be expected, and perhaps even something the Sith Lord himself anticipated. I unveiled the lightsaber and presented it to him, symbolizing that this shall be the arsenal that will eviscerate the Empire’s enemies and as an instrument of death in his name. Lord Sanguinis stared through his infernal mask and responded in neutral fashion before dismissing me with a hint of indifference.

It became painstakingly clear that my Master had no intentions of molding me. His mind is drawn to shaping Valkara into a vessel of his heir, providing lessons of abilities as well as introducing her to those outside of the powerbase that could teach her sorcery and expand on her own network of contacts.

It’s evident that Sith Siors is unworthy to be his successor. I understood that Lord Sanguinis found him severely lacking in certain capacities and that is simply something that could not be forged without drastic measures. It’s a quality that is inherent and would mostly manifest within a select few over many generations. Whilst Sith Siors was indeed a veritable warrior with a stubbornness that would see through the demise of many obstacles, he lacked that one singular trait. Something that I believe Lord Sanguinis sees within Valkara, enough to divert and allocate his time and effort in nurturing her.

Most if not all of the assignments in regards to the security and future prospects of the powerbase were instead redirected towards me, as though I was an administrative beast of burden that would handle all of the paperwork’s, lifting such burdens from his other apprentices so they may focus on enriching themselves to greater heights of power.
Lord Sanguinis kept me around as leverage.

An object of lesson over his primed apprentice. I was only meant to be a catalyst to instill the changes he deems fit within her, to improve upon and mold her, to perhaps one day utilize me further as a chain she needs to remove to finalize her transformation. A sacrificial pawn in a game to elevate her further to the heights of power, a mere footnote in her path to be his successor.

Spoiler: Collection

I felt resentful.

A cold and piercing hatred that dwells beneath the worlds of my heart. Yet it was a tempered hatred that could calm the most volatile of storms. In the depths of my unending loathing I sought to carve through a path of my own making. I did not require Lord Sanguinis to bolster my prowess, nor should I depend on him in any measure. Independence and initiative are my guide and I will see to my goals fulfilled through my own orchestration.

My mind traces onwards to engorging abilities and to make them my own, a collection of arsenals within my disposal. And so I sought sources of knowledge that were scattered across the powerbase, indirectly building my own image and reputation with the apprentices and Sith throughout the powerbase.

I took up Apprentice Cerberus Black’s suggestion to meet him sometime, and we’ve spoken in length in regards to the path forward with the powerbase—of which he seems primarily disinterested in the details of its expansion but more drawn to a prospect of purging the weakness within.

Over the next few weeks, we continued to embolden a sense of camaraderie, as he views that I am one of the few within the House that shares his sentiments in culling the unworthy and believes that unlike most of the other apprentices, I had a clear vision forward that aligns with the Dark Lord’s priorities.

That notion was justified due to the fact that I simply was unwilling to entertain the theatrics and bickering of those wallowing in their filth, attempting to undermine and demean those around them to salvage some sense of superiority. It only reveals their inadequacies and fragile ego, and consequently lose the respect of those around them. Yet it seems many do not know that my reserved demeanor and neutral responses were often concealing a depth of disappointment. If not outright pity for them.

After a long conversation whilst I was repairing and implementing modifications for Apprentice Cerberus’s helmet, he tested its integrity and wore it; noticing the adjustability of its design. A design that inevitably became a signature of his in the many wars to come. With a sudden abrupt halt of our conversation, he promptly told me to follow him. Eventually I found myself within the training pit and had to engage in a deadly confrontation against him, and found myself scoring temporary victories against his armor and managed to bleed him despite his cladded form. However, it did little to halt his assaults and I soon found myself battered by a physical offense that was similar to Lord Sanguinis’s brutality.

Over the next few weeks, he began imparting knowledge of both Force Speed and Force Lightning and began tempering my proficiencies to a level that would be sufficient in allowing me to enact the duties expected of me. He needed someone reliable on the field aside from himself, and it seems he could not expect such from the others. I had no plans to disappoint, and so our conversation adjourned with a knowing grin that the Empire’s enemies stood no chance against us.

Striking out further in my initiative I approached Apprentice Zhephra Aeros, and entailed my request in regards to an uncommon ability within her disposal. Force Whirlwind was truly an ability that was underrated to most, within my mind’s eye there was countless of variations and creativity one can utilize it to devastating effects. And the dynamics of such abilities could amalgate into a deadly combination in cooperation with others.

Yet naturally she was reluctant and reserved, it was an ability that she coveted afterall, being the only one within the powerbase that possesses such—at least to my knowledge. However, she understood where my mind was at, knowing that I was different from the others. I did not seek the ability to one day turn it against her as most Sith are inclined to do, even the prospect of imparting such an ability to another inherently opens a prospect of nurturing one’s own demise. My priorities were in duty and obligation towards both the Kalkoran powerbase and House Horuset as a whole, and my single-minded focus is known throughout in supporting its foundations.

She needed proof of my worth, something that would eclipse even those Sith Purebloods that sought the ability from her. Over the week I ruminated deeply into her character and what she represented. Her lineage traces to the ancient Kissai of old and the ancestral line has a deep devotion towards the Old Ways and appreciation to its historical culture. Yet obtaining a relic or scripture was something any other Sith could possibly do, it would not emphasise my worth over those of others especially her own kind.

And then it unveiled itself.

After processing multitudes of memories, I came upon one that would solidify my worth, and even end the controversy of my image. I showed her an endeavor of mine, recorded with full resolution in the holocom and recording devices when I was subject to the full weight of the Kissai Spirits of old.

That recording showed that around me were withered skeletons and corpses that were evidently once Sith that proved themselves unworthy in the face of their ancestors, it was notable that many amongst them were Sith Purebloods themselves and those whose stations surpasses my own. The Kissai Spirits surrounded my very being with an unimaginable weight of power that is unrelenting cold to the touch. They were demanding to know why I—an alien, believe myself worthy of their boon when so many others had fallen in the deepest of their admonishments. Where even distinguished Sith Purebloods were found lacking.

Within that moment, against the prospect of death I spoke with an unwavering will speaking in regards to my worth to weigh in against their signature judgement. For what seemed like an eternity passing through mere seconds, without uttering another word the Kissai Spirits granted me what they kept safeguarded throughout centuries.


Apprentice Zhephra was one that respects her lineage, and one that understands the weight of her ancestor’s words. She imparted the knowledge of Force Whirlwind with a gift of a metallic sphere that was primarily used as a training method. And over the next few weeks we continued to train in such further and develop our proficiencies.

Throughout this time, I began to see firsthand that she truly seeks the prosperity and security of the Kalkoran powerbase, and she holds an unwavering devotion singularly towards Lord Trakaton that was no different than how the Kissai of Old revered their masters.

My path further ventured onwards with Neophyte Khatatas, an uncanny Sith Pureblood that was unorthodox. Throughout my time within the powerbase, he has consistently observed me and evaluated my aptitude, proficiency and mental capacity. Ordering a network of acolytes to spy on me, and attempt to gain more information and details about myself.

Some of these aspirants painstakingly attempted to find dirt on me, it was excruciatingly painful to watch these repugnant filths attempt at cunning. Even more so at their attempt to deny that they were ordered to do so. Some even thought themselves clever by misdirection, hoping that I’d suspect another superior. Even a loose collective of an acolyte alliance sought to beat me down and interrogate. I don’t think I need to explain as to what happened to them. Afterall, their broken bodies make for a better explanation.

I doubt he knows that I was onto him throughout this time, but it matters not.

His vested interests in me was one that lingered in examination. He needed to understand who I was. And the only people that does that are either the ones that wants me on their side, or the ones that are preparing to remove me as a potential threat. I was prepared for both outcomes. But I doubt he’ll ever be prepared for me.

Regardless, throughout out many encounters he would often provide riddles in the form of poetic verses in scripture. Something more in line with the framework of old mythologies. These often tested my ability of abstract thoughts and deep analysis, of which seems to gain his recognition overtime.

At one point he requested my presence within the meditation chambers as he began to demonstrate the depths of his prowess in Pyrokinesis. Manipulating the flames in such a way that I thought was inconceivable as I’ve never heard of such an ability before. He began his series of tests once more, inquiring about the philosophy of fire and my view of them. It seems he needed to understand whether I truly appreciate its depths, moreso than an ability to be possessed but understanding the severity of its design. After a series of grueling tests, he produced a smirked that was uncannily sinister though as to what it entails remains unclear to me.

Nevertheless, he began to impart the knowledge of Pyrokinesis as well as a lighter that had my initials engraved within it. The fact that there was already a lighter made with the specific initials of mine means that he had anticipated this encounter for a while, and had intended to pass on this lighter in preparation. Something that did not escape my notice, but moreso that it reminded me of the Lighter competition by Lord Sanguinis. It made me aware of a certain aspect of sentimentality within his psychological profile.

His endgame remains unclear, but sooner or later his scheme will be known to me.

It is inevitable after all.

Spoiler: Changes

Lord Sanguinis is an absent Master for the most part.

His machinations dwell on Valkara and I had to endure a neglect that was reminiscent to my father’s cold and detached demeanour. Most of the assignments and tasks were redirected towards me, whilst he imparts knowledge to his primed apprentice, gradually molding her through his design.

I nurtured a seething hatred for my Master that froze in the depths underneath the flames, for all the accomplishments that surpassed others in neighboring generations, the efforts of my toiling resulted in no tangible reward.

Parts of me emboldened a sense of envy towards Valkara; who in our isolated retreat would always speak with a hint of exhilaration and excitement of the new powers that became part of her arsenal whilst I listened attentively to her—recognizing that our Master’s sole focus is on tempering her.

She was changing—if not already changed.

I gazed at her features more delicately than ever before. As though her internal turmoil had reflected onto her visage, the once brimming radiance of her cheeks lost its colour as it paves its way into a more ashened complexion.

Gazing through those once brilliant blue eyes that began to cloud in darkened hues, I realized that I could not speak to her in the same manner I spoke to her before. Even when I attempted to open the subject of her former Jedi Master’s death, she retaliates from the pain and silenced any thoughts about returning to the Jedi.

She’s traumatized.

And in her broken state she finds comfort in submitting to the circumstances she finds herself in. It is ever so simpler to give in to your surroundings when your mind believes there is no option. And for her, there is no longer any alternative.

She gave up.

And somehow that alone crushed me more than any sense of remorse or guilt on my part.

The notion of hope was no longer what she believed it was. It became an invitation of more pain. More suffering. More losses. Her trauma was deeply rooted such that she fears hope itself, and any mention of it only serves to bring her further agony.

She was doing her best to cope with the misfortunes of the world, and while there were some salvaged moments of adaptation—there were still more questions and uncertainty that plagued her heart.

…I’m not the answer to these questions that she still has.

How could I ever provide hope when I have none myself? I cannot lead her to a place where I was lost myself.

In spite of my prodigious mind with all the vocabularies of the world, I was utterly speechless. I had no words to comfort her…

In my silence, I could only reach out and hold her hand gently as we gaze at the sunset that began to submerge itself behind darkened hues.

It is unclear how we would move forward from here.

But we will try and move forward together.