Trya'ak hated frigid environments. Nautolans had evolved long ago to survive extreme weather conditions, but that evolution didn't at all include a comfortability in said conditions. He was bundled up so tightly and in so many layers that he felt a bit like a Hutt waddling around in the snow. Luckily, there had been just enough space to land his shuttle near the ruins, so he didn't have to trek too far. Hopefully Kull had a few heat generators set up inside.

When he thought about it, if it weren't so insufferably cold, he probably would've loved to take some time and explore these ancient structures. Kull had mentioned that they had once been a Sith training grounds during the Lone War, when fallen Jedi taught the Sith purebloods the ways of the Force. Trya'ak spent much of his free time exploring similar ruins on the unmapped archipelagos of Armala Prime, but those were largely void of any connection to the Jedi or Sith. Knowing Kull, this place was anything but a fruitless venture.

Still, he couldn't help but wonder why these ruins demanded Kull's attention. Rumor had it that even well-known worlds such as Korriban and Malachor held no shortage of ruins to explore, artifacts to unearth and secrets to discover. Surely sites such as those held more intrigue than a simple training temple in the Outer Rim.

Then again, Sith hideouts away from the prying eyes of the more commonly known worlds could very likely have held their fair share of history. After all, if one desired to explore possibilities outside the norm, it was much safer and easier to do so in secret. Undoubtedly the scheming Sith of ancient times would have had isolated retreats from which they could conduct business without the scrutiny of their fellow schemers.

Besides, Kull was a historian. Even if it didn't prove too terribly significant, nothing pleased him more than uncovering information no one had yet discovered. He and Trya'ak shared that in common, at least, even if the nautolan's proclivities focused far less on history. No, uncovering the mysteries of the Force was his great ambition, and Kull had been a useful avenue from which to further that endeavor. It only made sense, then, that after all this time Trya'ak should finally reveal his secret.

So he plodded on through the snow, eventually reaching a huge arched structure half buried in the frigid landscape. Trya'ak hadn't had much opportunity to survey ancient Sith architecture—or any Sith architecture, really—but he knew enough to know that the ruins of dark stone and angular edges were fairly typical. He could only imagine that the site had been abandoned during the infighting that led the Sith to retreat back to the unknown sectors, and had since been lost to time and the raging ice storms of Khar Delba's southern continent.

It was with caution that Trya'ak entered through the mouth of the structure, seeing as the snow tapered off forming a sort of decline leading to the proper floor of the ruins. The entryway was a large open room, illuminated by glow torches along a straight path to a huge bronze door at the other end. The old Sith certainly didn't lack for showmanship.

Trya'ak slid down the slope of snow and immediately regretted that decision. His entire backside instantly hated him; the dampness of crushed and melted snow clung to his rear, further freezing him even through his seventeen layers of warmth. If he never visited another frigid planet, it wouldn't bother him in the slightest. Kull had better have a good reason for delving this particular ruin.

Well, speak of the devil.

As Trya'ak picked himself up off the cold stone floor, one of the towering bronze doors ahead of him cracked open just enough to allow a figure through. If not for the bright red skin just visible through layers of fur hoods and scarves, Trya'ak might have thought the spirits of the ancient Sith had come to haunt him.

"Quite an entrance," Kull said in his usual monotone voice. Trya'ak never got tired of the contrast between the two of them.

"Well it's quite a place you've found here," the nautolan replied, dusting snow off as he approached the doors. "Felt I had to make an equally impressive entrance."

"Of course. Just hurry, we're letting the cold in."

Trya'ak rushed forward at the prospect of warmth and followed Kull through the partially opened door into a long, long, long hallway. Braziers molded from dark metal were perched along both walls, evenly spaced running the length of what seemed like an endless void of grayish-brown brick. Above, the ceiling of the structure loomed so high that it seemed to simply be empty space.

And yet, most surprising of all was the sensation that permeated Trya'ak's sensorium the second he stepped inside the temple proper. It wasn't darkness, necessarily, but certainly not light either. It almost felt inquisical, as if the temple itself were a channel for the Force and had never been graced by the presence of one who didn't wield the dark side. Kull was equally intrigued by this sensation; Trya'ak could feel it despite his diminished intuition in the Force.

Still, it was clearly warmer inside the Temple than in the wilderness, and Trya'ak didn't want to lose any more of that heat. He quickly turned around and grabbed the enormous bronze door with both hands.

"It won't budge," Kull said once he saw Trya'ak's intentions. "It answers only to the Force. Allow me."

The Sith reached out as if to pull the door shut, but Trya'ak had different plans. There was no use waiting.

Taking a step back, he reached out himself and felt the door beyond the cold and the lifelessness of stone and brick. With one practiced motion, the lumbering slab of bronze swung back on itself and settled into place, closing them inside the temple.

Satisfied that he'd truly done what he came here to do, Trya'ak turned to face Kull only to find him mildly intrigued. A single brow was raised, as if he were surprised and similarly not so when he really thought about it.

"This entire time?"

Trya'ak offered a light smile and a nod. "Indeed."

Kull nodded slightly in response, paused, and then gestured toward the ridiculously unending hallway. "Walk with me."

Trya'ak did as asked, shaking the snow off his boots before following his counterpart down the hall. Kull must have lit the torches upon entrance, probably as a way to mark his path back to the entrance.

"You don't seem very concerned," Trya'ak noted as he shot a glance at the Sith. Had it been anyone else walking next to him, he would have gone off on a tirade about his entire history and why he'd hidden it, but this wasn't just anyone. Kull was an inquisitive being. The more time he had to think things through, the better this particular conversation would go over.

"I've sensed the presence of the Force within you since we first met," he responded. "I assumed you were simply untrained. That you sensed greatness within yourself and wished to learn more of your own accord. That perhaps I could gain your trust enough to bring you to Korriban for proper training. Clearly, I was wrong."

Trya'ak said nothing, using every bit of restraint he could muster to keep his mouth shut. Kull was a smart guy; eventually he would reach his own conclusions, and Trya'ak needed him to want to know more. The Sith had to ask rather than simply have everything dumped in his metaphorical lap.

"I'm surprised your Order hasn't commanded you to stop seeking me out."

Trya'ak frowned slightly, sure that he was supposed to respond to this at least. "It's no longer my Order."

That one did warrant some surprise from the man's face. "You were banished?"

Trya'ak chuckled to himself. Usually he imagined that if he told anyone he was an exile, they wouldn't be all that surprised. There weren't many Jedi as open, carefree, and willing to indulge in baser activities as him. There was also the fact that he carried a blaster and remained on Armala Prime despite it probably being the worst possible place for a former Jedi to reside. So when Kull's first genuine display of emotion was at the mention of Trya'ak's exile, he couldn't help but enjoy it.

"I've always been fascinated by the Force in all its aspects. Naturally the Jedi Council took issue with my interest in learning about the Sith and the dark side. Things got . . . unpleasant between my Master and I. I've been on my own ever since."

He gave Kull time to mull that over, still restraining himself from explaining every little detail of his discovery of the Sith holocron, his fight with Artien, and his disagreements with the Council over fundamental ideas within the Order. All of that would come later, if necessary. At the moment, all that mattered was that Kull understood that Trya'ak wasn't a Jedi.

After some time they reached an intersection in the hallway, with two more lengthy corridors extending to either side and what looked like an ornately carved wooden door further down their current path. Kull gestured to the right and uttered a terse, "This way."

Once again, Trya'ak followed, but he couldn't hold back from asking where in the universe they were going and why. "We're headed somewhere in particular?"

Ever the concise one, Kull replied, "We are."

There was no use inquiring further. It was clear the Sith was still weighing everything Trya'ak had divulged, and the nautolan respected his need to think the whole thing over. If their roles were reversed—if Trya'ak hadn't been expelled from the Order, and Kull had revealed himself to have been a former Sith under these same circumstances—Trya'ak surely would have met him with skepticism.

Even so, there was no mistaking that Kull wanted to show him something. They'd met up like this a handful of times before, usually during one or the other's explorations of Armala, but they were typically brief meetings involving Trya'ak asking a slew of questions while Kull documented his findings. Never had they met in the midst of an active exploration.

"Why tell me any of this?" Kull asked after a minute or two of silence. "Were I to tell my Council of you, I'd be rewarded handsomely for delivering you to them."

"Come on, buddy, I trust you more than that." A sardonic smile crossed Trya'ak's face, met by Kull's disapproving glare. Truthfully he hadn't thought about how best to explain it; he simply had to buy a few moments to choose his next words. "There are others like me. Not exiles, necessarily. Pretty sure I'm the only one of those. But I still have friends within the Order; people who have the same inclinations as me. The Jedi aren't perfect and we want . . . something else. Something more."

"So you intend to spark a mass exodus from the Jedi," Kull mused. "To where? If the Jedi don't stop you, the Sith will hunt you down."

"That's not exactly the plan," Trya'ak quickly answered. "I don't want the Jedi to end. I want them to improve."

Kull scoffed at the notion. "They've carried on for millennia without change of any kind. To spark any widespread notions of rebellion amongst them would lead them only into our hands. History has attested to that fact throughout all time."

Trya'ak felt it more than he knew it; now was his moment to test the waters.

"What if the Sith were to change as well?"

Kull stopped walking, regarding Trya'ak with a curiosity the nautolan had never seen in him before.

"What are you implying?"

Trya'ak relaxed his posture as much as possible, regarding the taller and larger man in front of him respectfully. Kull needed to know that he was in total control of the conversation—that it would end the moment he wanted it to.

"Kull, I'm not trying to overstep the bounds of our friendship, but I sense a displeasure with the Empire in you. I can only assume that, like my friends and I, there are Sith that disagree with the ideologies at the core of your own order.”

The pureblood never took his gaze off Trya’ak, piercing him with orange eyes that felt as if they were attempting to see through his soul. In all likelihood, that wasn’t too far off. Kull knew now that Trya’ak was adept in the Force, so there was no need to even try to hide any attempts to search his mind for traces of deception or anything so equally untoward. Why he was even trying was the real question; the two had known each other long enough that Trya’ak felt Kull should know he never lied. Omit the truth, certainly, but outright deception wasn’t really in his wheelhouse.

Even so, he understood the man’s misgivings. He hadn’t been wrong when he’d said both the Jedi and Sith had been unwavering institutions for thousands of years. It was true that under Empress Haisia’s rule the Empire was a considerably more peaceful and tempered society than the savagery they’d once made a name for themselves with, but any Jedi worth their salt sensed tension brewing just beneath the surface. Kull had never given any specifics outright, yet even so Trya’ak knew that this sith renaissance could only last so long. When it crumbled, civil war would follow along with the chaos and infighting that had driven them into the unknown regions millennia ago.

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Similarly, the Jedi Order wasn’t in a great position itself. As the conflict between Kassaire’s Rebellion and the Republic continued to spread, the Jedi found themselves in the awkward position of supporting either a government facing charges of widespread systemic corruption, or a mutiny against it that employed the use of blatant terror tactics. All the while the doctrine that had served them well in the past was rapidly becoming outdated, as the Republic they’d remained steadfast allies to for so long crumbled from within and the Empire they’d been fighting since anyone could remember seemed to promote peace. The foundations of the Jedi were based on moral absolutes and the providence of a democratic system that fundamentally rejected evil, and that system no longer existed; those absolutes had been skewed to the point that all anyone could see anymore was grey. The Order couldn’t keep up.

So it was with tremendous patience that Trya’ak waited while Kull probed him, through the Force and through more conventional means. Barbaric as his people had once been, the pureblood was a testament to the fact that knowledge and the desire to increase one’s own did produce an individual far more capable of discernment than most.

“What would you have me do, then?” Kull said abruptly, taking Trya’ak off guard. “Go back to the Empire and rally any who disagree with the Sith’s core teachings? I’d rather lop off my own head first.” As if to emphasize this point, Kull withdrew a smooth black cylinder from his belt and instantly ignited it, causing a red glare to emanate throughout the hall. “What are known as Sith today use these blades as a cruel mockery of my people and yours. They’ve taken what was a symbol to your Order and contorted it to remind them of the bodies of my ancestors that they climbed atop on the path to power and dominance. Make no mistake, when they sense weakness in the Jedi they will strike more viciously than your Republic is prepared for, and instead of pureblood corpses it will be the flesh and blood of the Jedi piled up at their feet. Do not underestimate them, and do not be so foolish as to think you can save them from themselves. You and all those like you will be eradicated in the process.”

The air seemed to stagnate between them as the severity of Kull’s words drowned out what little lightheartedness and exuberance Trya’ak had brought with him. He was right, and it was something the nautolan hadn’t given much thought to. If his grand ideas of reformation began to hold any real sway or draw any significant numbers from either the Jedi or Sith, both would react harshly; violently, even, in the Sith’s case. If the Jedi Order were to be weakened in any way, and with the Republic busy fighting the Rebellion, retaliation from the Empire would surely destroy what many considered to be the bastion of freedom and democracy.

But then, did that make the desire for growth any less admirable? Surely the intention was what truly mattered. Trya’ak was neither omniscient nor all-powerful; he couldn’t predict how others would react to his desire for betterment, and he certainly couldn’t control them should their reactions lead them to violence. But did that exempt him of guilt should the worst come to pass? If this revolutionary nonsense he’d dreamed up in his head actually gained any momentum and was met by opposition, weren’t any casualties of that conflict directly a result of his actions? And in the end, would it truly be worth it?

Trya’ak didn’t think he had the answers to those questions. Truthfully, he didn't think answers even existed for questions such as those. All he knew was that the current system in effect simply couldn't work anymore. He and all those like him didn't have a place in it, and he had no intention of falling by the wayside or allowing his peers to do the same.

"Freedom or death, right?" he responded meekly. "If a noble purpose leads me to my end, I'd be content with that."

"Fool," Kull gruffly answered. "Are your friends just as suicidal? No purpose is worth dying for, especially when your death wouldn't change a thing."

"Wouldn't it? What more powerful weapon is there than a martyr?"

"Deception. Cunning. Brute force. You won't be made a hero by sacrificing yourself stupidly. They'll twist and contort you into the same kind of monsters my people and I are to your Republic. Instead of a man dreaming of a better world, you'll become a monster bent on tearing down the safety and longevity of established institutions."

Without allowing his counterpart to get yet another word in edgewise, the Sith turned and continued his walk down the hall they’d been treading for several minutes. Trya'ak allowed himself a second's surprise, then quickly caught up and continued walking alongside the man intent on talking him out of this venture.

"I understand where you're coming from," he conceded, "But I don't think even the Sith hold that much influence."

Without even looking at Trya'ak, Kull replied, "I wasn't referring to the Sith."

Before Trya'ak could open his mouth again—before he could even begin to process the implications of Kull's statement—they reached the end of the hallway. Yet another massive door loomed ahead of them, but not made of bronze like the doors in the entryway. These were constructed of what looked like an incredibly ancient wood, dark in tone but deeply textured by cracks and lines. Wrought iron decorated the handles and hinges, complementing the one bit of color in sight: a blood red emblem that somehow stood out despite the centuries of neglect these ruins had no doubt endured. The emblem of the ancient Sith.

Kull shoved the door inward and beckoned Trya’ak inside. “We’re here.”

Trya'ak needed no encouragement. Put off as he was by Kull's complete annihilation of his confidence, he was equally intrigued by whatever the man was so keen on sharing.

He wasn't sure what he had been expecting, but the room he stepped inside exceeded those expectations immediately. For a moment his senses failed him, or he was so swept away by something else that his perceptions were completely ignored. In what could only have lasted a second, he felt the presence of the Force like he had never experienced it before. There existed no facets that could be labelled anything so cruel as 'light' or 'dark.' Instead it felt like a tangible entity, much wiser than a wild beast, more alive than the mechanical whir of a droid, and yet more substantial than another person. It felt as if it were thinking, but the thoughts had no form—or at least, not one that Trya'ak could make sense of.

And then without warning, it faded.

Kull grunted from Trya'ak's left. "You feel it too."

There was little more he could do other than nod, because as soon as the sensation left him he was greeted by an equally interesting view before him. The room they'd stepped into was a circular chamber made of the same stone as the rest of the temple, but lit by golden braziers containing white-blue flames. There were no decorations or furniture to be seen, aside from bookcases that stood a few feet away from the walls stacked to the ceiling, forming a sort of perimeter around the chamber's focal point. The ground sloped down several feet in the center of the room, leading up to an odd sculpture Trya'ak recognized instantly as ancient Sith handiwork. What it really was, he could only guess.

Even still, perhaps the most interesting feature of the chamber were the carvings in the walls. Very little remained of the ancient Sith language in Republic or Jedi records, so Trya'ak could only recognize the characters without understanding a word of it. Hieroglyphs complemented the literal writing on the walls, portraying scenes, images and thoughts the former Jedi could only imagine.

"What is this place?" he finally managed to ask.

Kull began walking forward toward the chamber's centerpiece, never removing his gaze from it. "The reason I asked you here. I assume you're familiar with the language."

"That may be a generous way of describing it, but yeah. It's Sith."

Kull stopped just in front of the structure and Trya'ak trailed behind, only then realizing that it was a sort of hollow pyramid with horizontal supports running across the middle. In the center was a spherical rock, cracked and jagged much like the door that had welcomed them inside. Furthermore, the same script and figures that adorned the walls were similarly carved into the object, almost as if they'd been made by a lightsaber or something similar.

"Much of the text is incomprehensible. The language of my people has slowly been lost over time; what remains is the work of scholars like myself. As such, there is very little reference to translate these runes."

"Why bring me here then?" Trya'ak asked. "I may understand the Sith more than my old comrades do, but that's still far less than you."

Kull smirked and regarded Trya'ak with a frown at the same time. "What little I could translate made reference to something called Mortis."

There was more to the statement, Trya'ak knew, but his mind completely zoned it out. Or more accurately, the Force demanded his attention so much that the world around him became little more than a blur. It wasn't a disturbance, yet it wasn't a mere sensation either. The word itself seemed to carry weight, not like the presence at the temple entrance or the one in that very room. It was much, much deeper. So much so that Trya'ak found himself simply saying it over and over again in his mind.

Mortis.

When he snapped back to reality, Kull was patiently waiting for him, analyzing his eyes more intently than anyone ever had.

"I believe I had a similar reaction," he offered. "Though I was alone when I discovered this place, so I can't be sure. The very word itself holds significance in the Force."

"What is it?" Trya'ak asked. It was the only thought occupying his mind.

Sadly, Kull didn't have an answer, and the nautolan knew it before he even said a word. "That was the purpose of this place. From what I can decipher, the lord of this temple was fascinated by the subject. Obsessed, even. Unfortunately he never discovered anything relevant. Or if he did, it's been lost to time."

Trya'ak didn't know why he was so fascinated by something he didn't know a thing about, or why he was so disappointed that that was all the information Kull had. All he knew was that it was obviously significant, enough for a Sith pureblood to invite a former Jedi into sacred ruins to tell him about it. That fact alone demanded an explanation.

"I appreciate that you've trusted me with this, truly," he said. "But there must be a reason you decided to let me in on this of all things."

There were often times that Trya'ak knew Kull was keeping things from him; being a Sith citizen, there were many things he simply couldn't share. But he never made an attempt to play coy about it. Kull was a very straightforward man. If he didn't feel like divulging information, he made no excuses, nor did he contemplate the difficult position Trya'ak often put him in.

This time, it was different. The Sith stood there weighing his next words carefully, considering whether or not to say what he had been waiting for.

"I had intended to bring you here to test your connection to the Force. Considering your thirst for knowledge, I'd hoped to instruct you as an apprentice and eventually uncover this secret together."

Despite Kull's statement earlier about wanting to take Trya'ak to Korriban, the notion still took him off-guard. Had he not revealed himself as an exile, Kull would've tried to take the nautolan under his wing; the idea of it wasn't so far-fetched—in fact it was quite amusing to consider—but Trya'ak knew that wasn't the full story.

"And now?" he asked.

Kull sighed forcefully. "There is one thing you're right about. The Sith are not perfect. Neither are the Jedi. You sense the power inherent in Mortis. If what you say is true, you more than anyone will understand that should it be discovered, by Jedi or Sith, it will be abused as all powerful relics are. I don’t want this to be the catalyst that reignites war between our people.”

Now there was an interesting sentiment. Despite all his pandering and severity, Kull was just as displeased with the Sith as the rest of the galaxy. His disillusionment with Trya'ak's ideals seemed to stem more from a cautious concern for any who defied the Sith yet rejected the protection of the Jedi. Even Trya'ak had to admit, he had reservations about it as well, but a crack had revealed itself in Kull's facade. Moreover, he had let it be shown. That small act of trust meant more than whether he agreed or disagreed with Trya'ak's grand dreams of revolution.

"What do you suggest?" the nautloan asked. As much as he would've liked to revel in his partner finally opening up, the matter at hand demanded his full attention. There would be time to tease Kull later.

"Now that we're being honest with each other, it only makes sense to continue that relationship."

"There's no one within the Empire you could trust with this? Surely there are more who believe the same as you."

Kull shook his head while he gazed off in the distance, as if trying to will some such person into being. "If there are, they keep their opinions to themselves. Even the notion of discontentment is quickly stifled."

Trya'ak smirked at that. "It's not all sunshine and roses like Haisia would have us believe, hm?"

"She may wish it were so. True power lies with the Dark Council, however. Behind Aegar and his sheer brutality. If so much as a whisper of Mortis were to reach their ears, they would tear the galaxy apart to find it."

In his heart, Trya'ak knew the same could be said of the Jedi. Perhaps their methods wouldn't be quite as blood-soaked as those of the Sith, but the result would be similar enough.

"It can't be simply the two of us," he remarked. "You won't get far revealing nothing to your allies. And as for me, well, I have even fewer allies than you. What I do have is the knowledge that we aren't incorruptible. We need people at our side to help us on this path."

Kull considered his response behind eyes that were lost deep in thought. "It seems it's your turn to offer a suggestion."

"The friends I mentioned," Trya'ak quickly replied, not skipping a beat. "I know you're not overly fond of our ideas for reformation, but they harbor a similar understanding in their hearts. I believe this is a secret we could entrust them with, in time."

"It's no mere matter of trust," the Sith countered. "We don't even know what Mortis is and we're attracted to it, so much that it's brought us to this paranoia. How will it affect others? How will it change those less reasonable, less even-tempered than us?"

He had a point, Trya'ak was well aware, but still this seemed like the right call. As much as this mysterious aspect of the Force was drawing them together, he knew it wasn't a task or burden that they alone could bear. And as he'd said, he didn't intend to reveal this place or its secrets to anyone immediately after introducing them to his Sith counterpart. That would come in time, and with a great deal of patience and respect.

"Kull, you know as well as I do that this isn't something we can undertake just the two of us. I'm not suggesting we bring my Jedi friends to the heart of an ancient Sith temple and expose them to this enigmatic aspect of the Force any time soon; only that we include them in our journey. We need allies, especially if we're to keep this from the Sith. I agree, the people we trust with the secret of Mortis should be small. But we have to take the first steps if we're to ensure that this knowledge isn't used ignorantly. Finding solid, wise, respectable people to place our faith in is that first step."

Kull's face was bent in a scowl of irritation as he scoffed. "I doubt there are such people to match your optimism."

That produced a genuine laugh from the former Jedi. "Come on now. If a disillusioned Sith can trust an exiled Jedi, there have to be at least a handful more in this galaxy worth giving a chance."

Kull looked at the ceiling and cracked his neck, letting a bit of resigned frustration bleed through. He'd displayed more of his thoughts and emotions in the past thirty minutes than in all the time Trya'ak had known him.

"I'll meet them," he said slowly and deliberately. "I make no guarantee that I'll put any trust in them as you do."

A wave of relief flooded Trya'ak's veins like kolto on an open wound. "That's enough."

Kull grunted. "We're in agreement then. No one outside the two of us should learn about this place or its secrets without both of our approval."

"Of course," Trya'ak affirmed. "Sith are used to democracy now, after all. I wouldn't want to sour the good name of Haisia's politics, would I?"

While Trya'ak laughed to himself at his own clever joke, Kull's face had become even stonier than usual. "Don't make me regret this, Sypkine."

The nautolan's smile widened noticeably. "Come on now, Kull. I have a great feeling about this."