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The old axiom "be careful what you wish for" had overstayed its welcome. Yet its wisdom was eternal. Zoya had spent all her life wanting answers. Now that she had one, she wished she could banish it. Her greed had killed her sister. As she had grown in strength, she had craved power. The feel of...

Zoya scurried after the Empress. The inside of the temple was indeed cooler than the humid outside air. But the air inside also had a staleness to it, smelling a bit like an old basement that hadn't been open in decades. The dust tickled her nose, and she was reminded that, while she loved her...

Zoya prided herself on the fact that few things were grave enough to unnerve her. She had grown up on a world that mostly consisted of the graves of ancient Sith, after all. But this audience was different. To her knowledge, the Empress didn't ordinarily meet with Acolytes. They were too far...

Another gunship dropped down next to the one that had deposited Ashla into the city. Zoya emerged from it wearing more simplistic garments than the type she was usually seen in back home. Her master, Darth Raze, had not specifically commanded her to seek out battle; but she knew if she were to...

At first, the mural was incomprehensible to Zoya. The images it depicted could be interpreted a number of ways, none of them clear. The consequences for getting it wrong would be steep. Her instincts told her to use the larger tuk'ata to kill the smaller two, as power and domination of others...

The Force as an ally. Everything Zoya had learned about being Sith rejected these words resounding in her head. The Sith were masters of the Force, not its friend. That role belonged to the Jedi. But that was the old Sith. The old Sith had fallen. They were not even ghosts on the winds of...

What was a girl to do in this situation? Zoya had to hand it to the other woman. She was a quick thinker, and her reflexes were phenomenal. All that said, Zoya also had exquisite reflexes and could think on the fly—in this case, literally. She twisted to face the woman. Fatigue limited her...

Zoya had wondered in the back of her mind when the true test would begin. Up until now, Darth Raze had been content to ask questions and observe her, but she had known it wouldn't remain that way forever. Her answer came in the form of a steep drop. Her stomach lurched into her throat as she...

Zoya was beginning to develop a rudimentary impression of the type of Sith Lord Darth Raze was. He answered questions sparingly and only with the information asked of him—nothing more. He was also not the sort of teacher that was going to guide her through the steps of her training with her hand...

Zoya paced the outer walls of the cave as Darth Raze imparted his wisdom. She had crossed her arms across her chest midway through the lesson, not out of disrespect but because of the cold. They had not advanced far into the cave, but already the temperature had dropped dramatically. But even as...

Zoya kept pace with her new master, scanning the ruins as they passed until the structures became desert and desert became a cave. She wanted to ask him where they were going, but he kept her mind busy with another slate of questions. These were easier to grapple with than the previous flurry...

Zoya could feel the ache building in her muscles. Her breathing came in gulps. Her master was still teaching her how to minimize the stamina drain her magick imposed; and his lessons had been successful. She'd made it this far, after all. But she was still an apprentice with much to learn. She...

Zoya smiled. The red energy pouring out of her like blood from a tap was not just a pretty color she applied to her powers. It was ichor from the very core of Korriban, the source of her magick, her power. And, like all power associated with the Sith, it called to those who felt it, begged for...

Zoya held her bow a moment, less out of respect and more to guard her expression for the fleeting moment it flickered with consternation. His questions invited... thoughts. The first two were easy enough to answer. But the third he posed as a statement, a challenge, and she pondered the answer...

Zoya had spent most of her girlhood staring up at Moraband hanging like an oversized moon in Korriban's skies. Back then, she delighted in being frightened by tales of the ancient Sith Lords buried there. Her mother used to warn her that if she disobeyed, the slumbering Lords were watching and...

Zoya didn't have a choice. She had to release her spell to defend herself. Though momentarily blinded by sand, the Force acted as a sixth sense, warning her to the impending danger. Throwing up her free hand to block the incoming flames might have seemed stupid to the other woman—or perhaps she...

Retaliation came swift. Her opponent had not reacted as Zoya expected, but her choice of counter was revealing nonetheless. The moment her limbs and throat became constricted by an invisible Force, Zoya let the magic building within her explode outward in a shockwave of mystical energy that...

The second a buzzer rang, signifying the beginning of the fight, Zoya thumbed the activation stud on the hilt of her lightsaber. A scarlet blade erupted from its emitter to match the one blazing in her opponent's hand. The distance between them was negligible. She could have crossed it in a...

Zoya wasn't fond of the arid coliseum on Namadii, which somehow didn't remind her at all of the corpse of a planet she was born on. Nor was she fond of standing here, in front of throngs of spectators, their only interest being who won and who lost. Who lived and who died. She had come here for...