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This essay was first composed as a private reflection following a lesson delivered by Sith Andnoa. At his request, and with his blessing, it is now submitted to the archives as a record of what was learned, and what may yet be drawn from it by others who pursue mastery of the Force through Sorcery and History.
On Sorcery, Power, and the Price of Ambition
A Reflection by Acolyte Agran
Yesterday, Sith Andnoa "asked" us to listen, and so I did. He asked us to question, and in my ways I have. He told a tale of blood and fire, of sorcery and power, of peaks and falls. Allow me then to offer my own reflection, not to flatter, but simply to show that I have heard, and to impart onto others the insight offered by Sith Andnoa.
He began by asking what defines mastery of a skill. My answer was functional: consistency, adaptability, and the capacity to teach. Yet his lesson showed me that Sorcery, like all disciplines of the Force, transcends formality. It is not mere repetition, but evolution. This, I believe, aligns perfectly with the Sith Code: "Through passion, I gain strength. Through strength, I gain power. Through power, I gain victory." Passion alone is not enough. Unshaped, it is akin to wildfire - destructive but directionless. Sith Andnoa made clear that true Sith shaped - and still shape - that fire into tools, rituals, and weapons. They bind it with will. That is where sorcery resides - not as mysticism, but as domination through structure. The Kissai understood this. So did Aleema Keto. And so must I.
Sith Andnoa focused on a phrase I used: "to adapt it accordingly to one's needs." His example, comparing a Force Push to a Force Wave, revealed the importance of blending, modifying, and innovating. This is the lesson that struck me most. The Force may be vast and ancient, but it yields to those who shape it. Sorcery, rituals, gestures, incantations - these are not crutches, but scaffolds. They shape the mind and direct the will, like a soldier’s training or a Sith’s saber form. They make the strange repeatable, the impossible manageable. To adapt a power is to own it - to make it an extension of oneself.
His tale of Aleema Keto and Satal, of Exar Kun and Uliq Qel-Droma, was not just a story. It struck me as a warning. They had power, but not discipline. They knew hunger, but not cost. Aleema burned a star cluster to ashes and herself with it, thinking herself a match for Naga Sadow. She was, but unmeasured power devours the wielder first, and as such victory was hers but for a brief moment. This speaks to my pragmatism. I do not fear power, but I respect what it extracts in return. Sorcery is not free. Its cost is often written in blood and decay- one's own or another’s. I believe this is where Sith Andnoa’s teaching intersects with my patriotism: a Sith who dies fruitlessly is a loss to the Empire. One who survives, learns, and grows stronger is a future pillar of it, for as much as they will inevitably find their end, it need not be now.
Sith Andnoa spoke of the Kissai with reverence. I have taken that to heart, perhaps because I still search for answers to the Sith-blood that runs in my veins - from where it truly hails. They were warriors of the mind, an impressive feat, for their power resided not solely in Force sensitivity, but in ritual knowledge - from knowing where to press in reality to make it bend. I find that concept inspiring. The Kissai blended the structured and the volatile, the calculated and the passionate. That, to me, is a powerful archetype of a Sith: intellect and will, bound together with just purpose.
His lesson was not confined to the craft of Sorcery - it illuminated the nature of ambition, caution, and the dangers of endless hunger for power. It was about the clarity of vision needed to walk roads others fear to tread. Sith Andnoa taught that names - Force Push, Force Wave, Krath, Kissai - are somewhat less important than the functions they serve. He taught that power is real, but that it must be guided by wisdom. Most of all, he taught that legacy is built not solely in blind arrogance, but in intention.
Sith Andnoa focused on a phrase I used: "to adapt it accordingly to one's needs." His example, comparing a Force Push to a Force Wave, revealed the importance of blending, modifying, and innovating. This is the lesson that struck me most. The Force may be vast and ancient, but it yields to those who shape it. Sorcery, rituals, gestures, incantations - these are not crutches, but scaffolds. They shape the mind and direct the will, like a soldier’s training or a Sith’s saber form. They make the strange repeatable, the impossible manageable. To adapt a power is to own it - to make it an extension of oneself.
His tale of Aleema Keto and Satal, of Exar Kun and Uliq Qel-Droma, was not just a story. It struck me as a warning. They had power, but not discipline. They knew hunger, but not cost. Aleema burned a star cluster to ashes and herself with it, thinking herself a match for Naga Sadow. She was, but unmeasured power devours the wielder first, and as such victory was hers but for a brief moment. This speaks to my pragmatism. I do not fear power, but I respect what it extracts in return. Sorcery is not free. Its cost is often written in blood and decay- one's own or another’s. I believe this is where Sith Andnoa’s teaching intersects with my patriotism: a Sith who dies fruitlessly is a loss to the Empire. One who survives, learns, and grows stronger is a future pillar of it, for as much as they will inevitably find their end, it need not be now.
Sith Andnoa spoke of the Kissai with reverence. I have taken that to heart, perhaps because I still search for answers to the Sith-blood that runs in my veins - from where it truly hails. They were warriors of the mind, an impressive feat, for their power resided not solely in Force sensitivity, but in ritual knowledge - from knowing where to press in reality to make it bend. I find that concept inspiring. The Kissai blended the structured and the volatile, the calculated and the passionate. That, to me, is a powerful archetype of a Sith: intellect and will, bound together with just purpose.
His lesson was not confined to the craft of Sorcery - it illuminated the nature of ambition, caution, and the dangers of endless hunger for power. It was about the clarity of vision needed to walk roads others fear to tread. Sith Andnoa taught that names - Force Push, Force Wave, Krath, Kissai - are somewhat less important than the functions they serve. He taught that power is real, but that it must be guided by wisdom. Most of all, he taught that legacy is built not solely in blind arrogance, but in intention.
May this reflection serve not as conclusion nor dogma to abide to, but as invitatio nto study with discernment, to wield with intention, and to remember that power without understanding is its own undoing. If Sith Andnoa’s teachings reach you through these words, may they sharpen more than your hunger, may they temper it and sparkle the flames of change within yourselves towards improvement, for stagnation is the death of any self-respecting Sith.
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