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The well-lit room appeared to be a study or private library. The walls were lined with shelves, their ancient wooden frames warped by the weight of the treasures they bore.

Scourge couldn’t help but stare in wonder at the collection. During his days at the Academy he had seen only one physical manuscript—an ancient tome dating back more than ten thousand years to the arrival of the first Dark Jedi on Dromund Kaas. The book was considered a priceless artifact, one of the academy’s greatest treasures.

Yet here dozens—if not hundreds—of volumes filled the shelves on the left wall. Most of the books were large and thick, their bound pages protected by covers of leather or some similarly cured hide … though Scourge guessed that not all of them were made from skin cured from mindless beasts. They had an antiquated look about them, though most appeared to be preserved in good condition, if somewhat worn from use. Obviously Nyriss had paged through them many times.

The shelves on the right wall contained reference material that looked even more ancient and delicate. Loose leaves of yellowed parchment were held in place with delicate wire clips; rolled scrolls were encased in clear protective tubes. A hinged glass cover sheltered several books that looked as if they might crumble into dust should a strong breeze pass through the room.

But not everything in the room was an archaic relic. On the rear wall was a large bank of holodisks and datacards, and in the center of the room was a computer workstation where a figure Scourge could only assume to be Darth Nyriss sat hunched, staring at the display monitor. The hood of her loose-fitting cowl—red, accented with purple and black—was pulled up over her head, and the long, loose sleeves even covered her hands and fingers as she worked at the terminal.

Neither Murtog nor Sechel made any sound to announce their presence, so Scourge took his cue from them and stood silently while Nyriss focused intently on the computer’s display. Her cloaked form blocked any view of the screen, so it was impossible for him to see what she was studying. However, he thought he could hazard a guess: Darth Nyriss was well known for her proficiency in the ancient arts of Sith sorcery.

During his time at the Academy, Scourge had discovered that there were many ways to draw upon the power of the Force. His natural talents had led him down the path of the warrior: learning to channel his emotions into strength and raw outbursts of lethal energy. But other students had trained with the Inquisitors, studying a very different curriculum.

Millennia earlier, those who followed the dark side had learned to harness and shape the Force through complex rituals that could control the mind of an enemy and sometimes even warp reality itself. Much of this arcane knowledge had been lost, but those who managed to unlock even a few of the secrets of the past were often rewarded with a more subtle—though just as potent—form of power.

It was rumored that the perpetual storms of Dromund Kaas were the result of the Emperor performing one of these rituals. Scourge didn’t know if that was true, but he knew that Nyriss had gained her place in the Dark Council through her knowledge and understanding of things he could never hope to fully grasp.

After several minutes Nyriss pushed herself away from the desk, rose from her chair, and turned to face them, pulling back the hood of her cloak as she did so.

Scourge was taken aback by her appearance, though he did his best to hide his reaction. Like him, she was a pure-blooded Sith. But her face was creased with deep wrinkles, and the tendrils dangling from her cheeks and chin were withered. Her skin was pale, more pink than red, and mottled with dark brown age spots.

He didn’t know how old Darth Nyriss was, though he knew she had served on the Dark Council for nearly two decades; only two other members had longer tenures. Despite this, he had been expecting someone more akin to the fiercely beautiful woman depicted