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Sirak nearly blurted out, Then he’s dead already! but at the last second he remembered her admonishment not to underestimate Bane again. Instead he said, “You expect he will return.”

“I’m certain of it.”

“Then we will be ready,” Sirak promised. “When he comes back, we will destroy him.”

As Bane marched across the scorched sand of Korriban’s wastelands, he noticed the sun sinking quickly below the horizon. He’d been walking for hours beneath its heat; the small city of Dreshdae and the temple that towered over it were far behind him. They had been reduced to mere specks on the horizon; if he was to look back, he would have just been able to make them out in the fading light.

He didn’t look back. He marched doggedly onward. The blazing heat hadn’t slowed him; neither would temperatures that were about to drop to near freezing with the setting of the sun. Physical discomfort—cold, heat, thirst, hunger, fatigue—had no significant effect on him, sustained as he was by the power of the Force.

Still, he was troubled. He remembered the first time he’d set foot on Korriban. He’d sensed the power of the world: Korriban was alive with the dark side. Yet the feeling had been faint and distant. During his time at the Academy he’d grown so accustomed to the almost subconscious hum that he barely even noticed it anymore.

When he’d left the temple and the starport behind, he’d expected that feeling to grow stronger. With each step drawing him closer to the Valley of the Dark Lords he thought he’d feel the dark side growing in its intensity.

Instead he’d felt nothing. No noticeable change at all. He was only a few kilometers away from the valley’s entrance; he could see the shaded outlines of the nearest tombs carved from the stone walls. And still the dark side was no stronger than a hollow echo, no more than the lingering memory of distant words spoken in the distant past.

Pushing his doubts and reservations aside, he redoubled his pace. He wanted to reach the valley before complete darkness. He had grabbed a handful of glow rods before leaving the Academy; he could use them to find his way if necessary. Unfortunately, their light would act like a beacon in the darkness, signaling his location to anyone—or anything. With his new lightsaber at his side he was confident he could survive almost any encounter, but there were things that lurked near the tombs whose attention he would rather not attract.

The last few rays of light still hung in the air when he finally reached his destination. The Valley of the Dark Lords lay sprawled out before him, hidden beneath the cover of twilight’s gloom. He briefly considered stopping for the night and making camp until dawn, then rejected the idea. Day or night would make no difference once he was inside the tombs: he’d have to use the glow rods no matter what time it was. And now that he was finally here he was too eager to see what he could find to put it off any longer.

He chose the nearest temple, the only one he could actually make out in the dim light. Like all the tombs, this one had been dug out from the high stone cliffs that boxed in the valley on either side. The grand archway at the entrance had been built out from the cliff face, but the chambers that housed the remains of the Dark Lord interred within wound their way deep into the rock.

As he got closer, he could make out intricate designs carved into the archway. Something was written across the top in letters he didn’t recognize. He guessed that the craftsmanship would have been awe inspiring at one time, but eons of desert winds had worn away most of the detail.

He paused on the threshold, taking in the air of forbidden mystery that surrounded the entrance to the tomb. He still sensed no change in the Force, however. Stepping up to the entrance, he was shocked to see that the great stone slab of a door had been split asunder. He ran his fingers along the edges of the fissure. Smooth. Worn. Whoever had broken the door had done it long ago.

Bane stood up straight and marched