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Like Abeloth.

For a fraction of an instant that lasted an eon, Vestara stood as if paralyzed.

Ben was out of the fight, eyes shut, convulsing in terror. He would pass out soon, if his heart—or his mind—did not give out before then. She and Natua were by no means weak in the Force. But this thing was ancient. And evil. Fed by centuries of terror and thoughts of violence and darkness, it was much stronger than the tuk’ata or other Sith “demons” she had encountered. It had grown powerful on sweeter food.

It wanted her to ally with it. And Vestara knew that unless she and Natua could defeat it, it would have its sacrifice—with or without her aid.

And the sacrifice it wanted was Ben.

THE GROUND BENEATH THEM TREMBLED AS THE JEDI STRODE, PREPARED for battle but with calm in their hearts, toward the ominous cloud that hovered over the city. In the air that stirred their hair like a vile caress, in the very soil beneath their feet, they could feel the dark side.

“Well,” said Jaina, “I can’t sense Ship specifically. But I’m sure that if even the whole Lost Tribe were gathered in one building raising a toast to Abeloth, I wouldn’t be able to sense them, either.”

“None of us could. It would be like trying to pick out a single flower in a field full of them,” Luke replied. All his senses were alert, but that did not distract him from continuing to work things through in his head. “Natua didn’t mention anything like this concentration of dark-side energy in her briefing. This … is new for this world.”

“I think perhaps Saba had the right of it,” Octa Ramis said, falling into step beside them. Like all the Jedi, she held her lightsaber, but it was not ignited. “Maybe Ship is here, and he’s stirred something up.”

“Somethings,” Luke amended. Now that he was growing at least somewhat used to the particular nuances, the swirls and eddies of the dark side as it manifested here, he realized that it was not a singular energy they were sensing.

Barv, mitigating his stride so that his friend Yaqeel could keep up with him, grunted that he, too, seemed to think it was an awful lot of somethings, but that he was completely confident it was nothing the Jedi couldn’t handle. After all, they were Jedi, and they stood for the light side. Yaqeel looked up at him with soft, affectionate eyes, then away. Luke sensed that she, like himself, wasn’t quite as certain as Barv of the eventual outcome.

“Then why haven’t they attacked?” Kyp asked. “If these things are ghosts of Sith past, we’re practically sitting on their doorstep.”

“Perhaps they can’t,” mused Kyle. “They might be imprisoned—servants chained long ago by the Sith, only able to do a master’s direct bidding.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” Jaina said with her usual bluntness. Even in this moment of tense awareness and uncertainty, constantly keeping the darkness from seeping into him, Luke smiled. The conversation was good for them. It helped them feel more in control of the situation. Now was most definitely not a time for feelings of revenge, anger, or a desire for victory at all costs. It was a time for calmness, and tranquillity, and rational thought. These were their greatest weapons.

“Think about what we saw on Korriban,” Jaina continued. “The Sith are notorious for leaving guardians or traps behind. To chain a whole bunch of dark-side entities and essentially only give them orders to ‘sit’ and ‘stay’ is … well, it’s a stupid use of resources, and one thing the Sith aren’t is stupid.”

“This one agrees,” said Saba. “Though it would make our roles as Jedi easier if the Sith were stupid.”

Yaqeel snorted, then quickly looked away.

Good, thought Luke. He had never been prouder of his Jedi than now, with Jaina’s smart-mouthed but logical comment, and Yaqeel’s smothered laughter. They were walking, together, into darkness, and able to think and laugh. In a way, whatever happened next, they had already won.

They paused as they approached a wall that enclosed the city. This place did not have the imposing architecture