A Pair of guards wheeled a portable table into the small room. The portable med table had a patient strapped to the table with old fashion leather straps. The man contained within did not offer a struggle, even though he was conscious. The guards that transported the man bore the crest of twin lightsabers criss-crossing with the emblem of the Sith Empire in the background. This crest on their uniforms belonged to Darth Warvanus, the hand of the Emperor. They were performing instructions given to them by his senior apprentice Kinta Vetasa to place this table deep inside one of the many non-descriptive rooms located deep in the stronghold on Sojourn’s primary the world designated as Karza, the domain of Darth Warvanus. The table now was positioned in the center of the room. The man who had been responsible for Warvanus’ imprisonment in carbonite now laid on the table. At one time in another life when he was still Kell Sangros this man was like a brother. They had fought together, defended their homes from raiders together, saved each other’s life on multiple occasions, and unbeknown to Kell, had been in love with the same woman. Now, This man was hated above any other in the eyes of the War-Bringer as he represented what he once was, before the Sith found him, before Darth Tormentous had claimed him as his apprentice. He was weak, the fact that they both loved the same woman bore no significance to this feud. The circular room had no windows and dimly lit the only illumination coming were from the torches. The gray tiled floor shone in its immaculate state. Grison laid on the table helpless to move or even to attempt to escape. The prisoner was without arms or legs and with no synthetic limbs, he would not be going anywhere.
Against one of the rounding wall was another table. This table was littered with old texts laid about along with notes and various accounts. Pieces of information and musings on past Sith Lords who had attempted what Warvanus was about to do. Standing by the table of the scattered pages stood Kinta Vetasa, who had the distinction of being Warvanus’ most loyal apprentice. She had been bidden to bear witness on the experiment that her Master was about to do. She took it as a great honor to bear witness. The sound of crackling torches was all that animated the room. The War-bringer had entered the small chamber mere minutes later. Everything had been prepared. The entry of the War-Bringer had seemed to amplify the rising terror in the man who was strapped to a table. His breathing became quick, shallow breaths. It had seemed to add to the majesty of the chamber. Warvanus’ presence commanded as such, as he radiated power, and was battle hardened, He was among if not the top General in the Sith. He was devoted to the Dark Side, and to his Emperor. “The Dark Side of the Force is a gateway to many abilities that some consider to be un-natural.” These words belonged to Darth Sidious, Warvanus remembered them as they not only gave a simplification on the nature of the Dark Side but they also applied here, as he would tap into something that was very dark and by its very nature was un-natural and deadly.
This experiment was something that went against the very laws of nature itself. It was a corruption in the realm of the Force it was like a Dark stain on a pure white wall. A Terrible but rare power even in the Sith Empire’s past. Time and obscurity saw to it that this power had been considered lost through the ages. Past Sith Lords had tried to accomplish this very rare ability they all had failed. In their failure they had recorded their own notes and knowledge which had been kept in the Hall of the Arcane. Darth Warvanus had assembled the knowledge from these pieces, among them the jewel of this collected knowledge had been the notes from the Dark Jedi Saris, the only known practitioner of the ability. His own notes and theories on the ability also laid among the gathered lore. His own theories were untested, something that would soon be rectified. He had studied and in theory had learned it but to truly possess a power you must perform it. This was just another secret to rip from the Force to claim as his own. Only it wasn’t. This was the most destructive and deadliest power he was going to attempt. Even more so than Force Destruction. its very nature aligned deeply with the Dark Side. Darth Warvanus would use all his potential to learn this power. He had first learned of its’ existance in the Halls of the Arcane during his apprenticeship. Mentioned only in passing it had stayed within the mind of the then Sith Apprentice. In those studies he had come across the power of Deadly Sight, a power if performed successfully could kill a person or a group of people just by looking at them. Anyone and anything in his sight would suffer while performing this power. In some accounts the victims would smoke as they burned and as they burned they would de-atomize, in others the victim deatomized or evaporated as it happened. From his studies the latter would occur if the wielder was exceptionally strong in the Force.
According to the texts it was not known if the field of this unleashed power could be narrowed. In the way he could pick and choose who would die by his gaze, to look at one who he did not target while using this power and have nothing happen but to have the target stand next to that person and be de-atomized. This line of thought proved to be a distraction, this was not the time or place. This would be something the War-Bringer would explore in greater detail and with more energy at another time. First he needed to learn how to use this power first, then he could meditate on his theories on it in regards to its use and limitations, At a time when he has mastered Deadly Sight then he could explore the subtleties of it. Warvanus had learned to kill in many different ways throughout his studying, and training. He had learned to be quite efficient at it. Deadly Sight was another and a very different to kill a target. It was no surprise that this appealed to the War-Bringer, Just by a mere look this would be something new. It would be godlike, claiming this power would elevate him to the level of a true Master. The power to kill by a mere look would install a new wave of fear into those who crossed his path. Fear he could transform into more power. Fear he could use to further his own goals, fear he could use to impose his rule. He had to have this power. He lusted after it, as a man would lust after a woman. He would stop at nothing to claim it as his own,it was his by right to claim it. He had stumbled on the notes left by Saris shortly after his ascension to the rank of Sith Lord. During his apprenticeship he did not have access to the information he had sought. He had been the one to begin the chain of events to bring the lost ability back to the galaxy. This was his to claim as his own, he would make the ability no longer lost. There would be a new practitioner. A distinction that Warvanus craved. He would leave his own mark in the annals of Sith Lore and History. His name would forever echo with reverence in the halls of the Sith not only for this but for his prowess in battle. This ability was unlike anything he had ever accomplished or attempted. Warvanus approached the table where Kinta stood and reviewed the notes one more time. He then turned and approached the center table.
He stood over the helpless man strapped to the table. He looked down upon the man as if studying him and committing him to memory. Grison was pathetic, a shell of what he used to be, all of which he was became forfeit when he went after Warvanus. The fact he had at that moment had the upper hand brought a fresh wave of anger and hatred in the man, and anger at himself for allowing such an indignity. In the look he gave Grison he showed his contempt and his hatred. A hate that was unrivaled to any of his enemies. He would need it as this ability was fueled on Anger and Hate. Soon Grison would experience the full wave of his cruelty. The War-Bringer called upon the Dark Side of the Force, a mere thought had summoned its’ vast infinite intoxicating seductive energy, ready to be bent to the will of the caster. With his will the War-Bringer started to gather the power to himself as it absorbed into his energy field that surrounded him, like it surrounded every living thing. It would not only surround his energy field but his energy field would grow in potency, strength and power with what he was doing. He was like a magnet, the Force was being drawn to him.
The Dark Side was alive in him. It flowed through him, he could feel its’ seductive power coursing through him, energizing him, sharpening his senses, heightening his awareness and sharpened his mind as well as re-enforcing his iron clad will. It never ceased to amaze him how second nature it had become for him. it was natural for him. The Dark Side was a very strong and big part of him just as his limbs were a part of him. Through his training he grew stronger, experienced and knowledgeable in the Force. He brought his gaze downward again for another brief moment. He could feel the fear pouring off from Grison. It was rolling off with the intensity of tidal waves destroying all in it’s path but, it was also like a raging flood. It was much like a wounded animal whose scent had been found. Grison was the prey and Warvanus was the apex predator. The air was succulent with fear. He gorged himself off his foe’s mounting terror and building hysteria. He transformed it into even more power. He took it in and added it to the many offerings to the Dark Side, it would add to His own energy field which was swelling like an engorged tick about to burst. It would not stop Warvanus. He radiated power. He could feel the power of his apprentice and he fed off her power adding it to his own. Never had the War-bringer had absorbed so much power, anymore and it would certainly destroy him.
This was even more power than what he had summoned when he discovered Force Destruction. This surpassed that effort by leaps and bounds. It was intoxicating he found if he surrendered to it that he could lose himself in the currents of the Dark Side never to return. The thought of absorbing his being into the Dark Side would make him even more powerful, it was not a temptation Warvanus put any stock into. He felt as if the universe itself was his to manipulate as he saw fit. He was like a god ready to unleash his will. He could feel something trickling down his face. An absent wipe from his nose would reveal blood. He paid it no mind. The barely contained power was beginning to take a physical toll on him, but he ignored it for he was drunk with the power of the Dark Side. He felt like a god. With his potential he would accomplish anything he set his mind to. Crossing into the threshold of true Mastery was in his sights. The Dark Side would concede or he would die trying. He cast his radioactive sickly yellow iris’ on the embodiment of his hate once more. It was time to begin.
Warvanus could sense Grison through the Force. He knew this man, in another life this man was like a brother, now the embodiment of his darkest emotions like hatred and anger. Two powerful engines to fueling the power of the Dark Side. He had no empathy for Grison, his sole desire was to dish out the full potency of his cruelty. His presence in the Force was static, his imprint was nothing of significance, destiny did not swirl around this pathetic shell of a man. His presence felt like a house of cards, in appearance stacked and solid but weak ready to crumble at the slightest wind. His purpose was to further the needs and plans of the strong. In this case Warvanus. Grison did not walk in the currents of the Force and after the trauma that had been inflicted on him, his presence had diminished even further like a vibration that was losing strength in its potency. He could sense the screaming nerve endings in what was left of his limbs, no doubt causing pain from the loss of his limbs. He could feel his blood flowing, his heart beating, his mounting fear that was close to birthing outright terror.
He pushed his senses deeper, past the physical, he had to sense him to the level down to the very cells that made him up. Down to the Midi-Chlorians themselves. In Grison’s limited number of them he could perceive them just barely as he attempted to deepen his focus. He’d push his senses deeper to a more precise level as if it were a sniper shooting the fly off of a apple. Errant thoughts however threatened to break the concentration of Warvanus. Idle thoughts, matters of state and the Emperor’s goals tried to bubble to the surface of his mind. He was distracted as a result. He could barely perceive the organelles that ran interference for the Force. He could still sense Grison but only at the base level and even that was now becoming more difficult. Warvanus poured his re-newed anger into his efforts. Allowing him the will to allow him to drive those distractions down and to re-affirm his focus. He saw immediate results when he once again could perceive the organelles clearly. He could not manipulate them. In one sense he could try to goad them to shut his body down, much like Darth Plageuis had done to King Verona of Naboo. To do that would end in utter failure as he concluded this was not the right approach. He brought his focus on the cells and the task at hand.
The War-Bringer began to put this summoned energy to use but only expending some of the gathered energy from his energy field. He let it surround, envelop, and permeate the man laying on the table. Grison was immersed completely with the summoned power of the Dark Side. Power that was bent to Warvanus’ will and would only obey the War-Bringer. Warvanus would not extend all of it. He would do enough so that his will would be carried out for the task. Grison was not a force sensitive so he could not perceive what Warvanus was doing. It was as if the clay was ready for the potter to mold and shape it as he saw fit and if needed he would destroy it. Such was the same with Grison. He would bring him to the state of being clay though not literally clay, and then he would smash it completely, he would put him in pieces. The principles according to his study was very similar to Combustion but it also had similarities in technique to Pyrokinesis. Deadly Sight was a marriage of these abilities, but it was more than that, taken to a new extreme.
Fortunately both abilities Warvanus was well versed in. With Grison fully immersed in the power that Warvanus had brought upon him, Warvanus pushed his will. He employed the engines of the Dark Side and poured his hatred and fury as he gazed at him with a glare, one filled with a unrivaled level of hate. His Radioactive Iris’ locked on the face of the man who did not deserve to die, no he wanted his pain to be eternal. Had he had the level of knowledge in sorcery he would make it happen, Willing the victim to start to burn from the inside and outside. Sweat was forming on Warvanus’ brow as he began to exert himself in the effort. Grison laid there, there was more than fear, there was terror but also resignation. Resignation that he would not live to ever see freedom or to rejoin his hand-picked crew providing they still lived. What Grison did not know was his crew was dead. Killed by Warvanus’ Sith Forces. He noticed Warvanus glaring at him. he could feel his skin begin to feel hot, like a sunburn. Warvanus grinned cruely he was doing it, soon all would fear him. This power was his now, his to do with as he willed, As soon as those thoughts bubbled to the surface the power lessened as it had slowly abated. The attempt collapsed like a house of sabbac cards. Warvanus’ mind was focusing on the end result which would be Grison’s death, as well as letting his pride cloud his efforts and as a result his focus and concentration had broken again and as a result the attempt failed despite his best efforts to prevent it. He would have to try it again from the beginning.
He slammed his fist on the table. The fist landing inches from Grison’s head. Frustration apparent in his features, as well as His rising white hot anger. He would have started to beat the man to a bloody pulp but he needed him alive. If he was to succeed in his experiment Grison had to live and he would need to figure out what he had done wrong. So beating the man to death despite the primal desire to do so was definitely out of the question. He had to walk away and collect himself.
He Walked back to the table with the texts and tomes he once again studied them in the attempt to figure out where he went wrong. Why had it not worked? He don’t know how long he poured over the notes, nothing he read gave any indication on where he had gone wrong. Failure was the best teacher it was said. He even used it in his own teachings to the Acolytes who studied under his feet. It was what some called Jedi Wisdom but it was true, through his failure here he would learn from it and he would be successful and he would reach his goal. He could feel the terror rolling off of Grison, his frustration continued to mount in its intensity, as no answers or revelations were coming to him, He could not bear the rising maelstrom of anger any longer. He waved a hand and a chair went flying smashing against the wall. The chair had flew over the table Grison was strapped to and had it been wooden it would have shattered into pieces. The sound of the chair gave Grison a start which did nothing to calm his terror. Not that Warvanus was inclined to make his guinea pig feel at ease. Though it helped in burning off some steam, enough to get his head back into the task at hand. What Warvanus also felt and did not expect was that his apprentice flinched, though she did not physically flinch, the gesture the releasing of his frustration did put her on edge.
He went back to the texts. Reading and re-reading, studying them along with his own notes on his theories on the power. Only one Force user had mastered this ability. He had failed to consult the notes that Saris had recorded. Warvanus had to succeed here where others had failed he wouldn’t and his foolishness was conspiring against him. How had Sariss been able to do this and as he read the answer began to dawn on him. The reason for his failure now clear as day. He had taken a completely wrong approach all because he had mis-read Saris’ notes which had caused him to believe certain aspects of the power could be preformed a certain way which had caused the completely wrong approach. He had tried to narrow the target, like a sniper but he could not do that. This was almost like a wave in the way that living being who was in his path of vision would be victim to it. He could’nt do it from the inside out like he had been attempting. The revelation came to him as clear as day. How he had been a fool. He had to pour his hatred into the stare. He had to corrupt the wave of power he was going to project. That any caught in it would burn and vaporize and it all had to be triggered by the stare. He did not fully understand but he was starting to. He had been taking the wrong approach. It was increasingly becoming clear as more and more understanding started to become clear to Warvanus. Despite the ability being fueled on emotion he needed to have his mind empty of distraction. He needed to have iron clad concentration, iron clad will, and white hot anger and festering hatred. He had to have tunnel vision when performing this as so he would destroy anyone he did not wish. He closed his eyes and started to clear his mind emptying it of doubt, the frustration. In this revelation his confidence grew. In his attempt moments ago his concentration was not truly iron clad. His head not fully cleared he should have not made the attempt to perform such a thing. He was a fool for attempting such a rare powerful dangerous ability with no respect or reverence for what he was trying to do. This ability could easily destroy him as well as his target and he had made a careless approach. He was a fool. He would not make the same mistake a second time.
He took a breath and let it out. Then another. After several breaths he felt ready. He slowly returned to the table where Grison laid helpless. He did not look at him. Once again, Warvanus would try again. First he would clear his head of any lingering thoughts that would distract him. Nothing mattered, except destroying the embodiment of his hate with just a stare. This was all that mattered. He brought his concentration and will to bear. Everything else was of no consequence, Nothing but performing the experiment. Nothing else existed but the task at hand. Warvanus once more called upon the Dark Side of the Force, Once more he started gathering energy feeding it to His energy field. He was Effortlessly willing more and more energy to swell his field once more like a tick gorging itself. Like a Balloon growing in size, only his field was growing with power, such dark power. Dark power that would be bent to the fire of his will. He fed off of the fear that Grison was feeling which was growing more intense by the minute as even he knew that something would be happening or that maybe he perceived his end was very near.
It was deep seeded fear, the kind that nothing could calm. If Grison had the means he would have been trying to run, logic and rationale was not with him, this fear was an emotion, it was raw primal emotion. It was raw emotion Warvanus would use and with his will would transform into power. Once more feeding off the energy of his apprentice as she lent her efforts once more. More and more power gathering to his energy field. As it swelled he closed his eyes tighter as he erected mental barriers that would ensure that his mind would remain emptied of things that would cause him to fail, his mind and thoughts that would act as distractions were cast aside. Once more he was breathing in and breathing out. This was his time to commune with the Dark Side he had to come into it with an empty mind, a willing vessel but with a unbendable will, so that he could perform the experiment. He could feel the blood once more trickling down his nose, both nostrils were bleeding now. He was barely aware of it, in his mind he took it as a good sign as he was absorbing dangerous levels of Force energy. He ignored the realization and casted it aside. He cast aside the temptation to lose himself in the madness that were the currents of the dark side, they had begged him to surrender himself to it. He had to remain in the physical, grounded. Once more Warvanus began to surround and envelop Grison with the Dark Side. It surrounded him, penetrated him, there was not one part of him inside and out that was not exempt from the Force. The Dark side oppressed Grison, and Warvanus both. It was like a heavy wet cold blanket on a humid day. It was a crushing weight on their minds. It was all that and more. The difference was Warvanus was a practitioner of the Dark Side and while he felt the oppression, it did not cause him to falter. The power bent to his unbendable will. His awareness of Grison were deep in his perceptions but they were not critical for the task but it did not help, it kept Warvanus grounded on his task, on who his target was.
Through the Force he gathered the stored energy he poured his anger, his malevolence into it. The heat of his anger and hatred burned. It burned hotter than anything he had ever felt, he asserted his dominance in pouring his will into his efforts. He summoned his hatred of this man. It was a level of hatred he had never felt for anybody living or dead, not even for the man who claimed to be his father. Warvanus opened his eyes and cast his gaze downward at the man on the table. The sight of him incited even more hatred. The kind of hatred where killing him just once was not enough. He wanted to kill him over and over, a thousand times would not be enough. The stare from his radioactive yellow iris’ held a stare of a fraction of this hatred. The eyes could not express the full intensity of hatred he felt for this man, now words could give enough emphasis. He was exerting more and more effort into it. His summoned hatred was so potent, fueled not only for his hatred of Grison but of all his enemies, of every single being who had done him wrong, or who stood in the way of his goals, it was all channeled into the stare with it being fueled by the Dark Side which had transformed into deadly energy. His gaze locked on the eyes of his prey. He did not concern himself with focusing on Grison which was where he had erred in his last attempt. He had wanted Grison in his perceptions so when Grison died that he could sense the glorious pain he would be enduring. The energy from his energy field was unleashed like a wave. Not visible to the eye but it hit and went through Grison. He knew something was different with this attempt but it was not until he could feel that Grison’s body began to break down. Warvanus’ will and his will alone was being done. He narrowed his eyes as He fed the flame of his hatred.
The wave of Dark Side energy released by the stare Warvanus gave Grison went through Grison. As it went through him he could feel his insides heating up first it was like heartburn, then the pain spread feeling like a sunburn consuming his body. It was more intense than anything he had felt ever in his pathetic life. His skin turned lobster red as if severe sunburns then blisters and sores started to appear on his skin then his skin started to turn black as if he had third degree burns devouring him. Inwardly he could feel the same as he did on the outside, it was as if his insides were on fire. Smoke started to rise as did the fires. He could not speak he could only scream. The scream he released was unlike anything a living creature should ever have to release. The pain he was enduring could not be expressed. It was guttural primal screams of an animal being tortured, mutilated and slowly burning alive as Grison’s body began to breakdown, dissolving before his very eyes, though at this point Grison could no longer see, but Warvanus kept his gaze as Grison’s body dissolved slowly what remained of his arms fell off into ash, It would have been a mercy to end his life quickly. Warvanus would not take his gaze off of him. Extreme exertion was evident in the features of Warvanus as was the look of smug triumph. It became more difficult to maintain the effort. His concentration began to waver again, and the heavy use of the Force was taking a heavy toll on Warvanus. He was so tired but he had to continue. It took all he had to maintain what he was doing he had to finish it as the fires of his will would not be extinguished not until it was completed. He grabbed the edge of the table with his hands to steady himself. More and more it became more of an effort to stand on his own power. The table now was supporting him on his feet.
As the screams began Kinta Vetasa discreetly made her exit. The screams were not contained to the room, but anyone within a couple of rooms away could hear the guttural screams. In those screams it wanted to be released from the mortal shell aching to be free of the pain, he wanted release. The smell of burning flesh began to fill the room. It would have sicken the apprentice but to the Master, it was another threat to his concentration. A distraction he cast aside without a conscious thought. As the flames continue to eat the flesh of its victim so did the screams persist, until they had ceased. Grison was dead but even after Grison died the fires burned and then what was left of the body of Grison began to all at once dissolve in the grand finale of the experiment. It did not explode as an object under Combustion would have but the building blocks of life no longer held the integrity of the burnt corpse together and it had collapsed, like a mountain into a pile of rubble but instead was a pile of ash with a set of leather straps laid bare on the table. Had Grison been burnt alive by natural means the body would be charred but intact.
Warvanus was breathing heavily from the exerted effort. Sweat had been pouring off his body, going down his face. He had brought a hand up to wipe the sweat from his eyes, his right hand went through his sweat soaked hair, the sweat cleared, had looked at his hand which had mingled blood and sweat which was in the field of his gaze It too began to suffer the same fate as Grison had. It began to burn. His hand continued to burn even as Warvanus was trying to turn off the power, to let go and come back to himself, anything to cease what he was now doing. Even in his failed attempts to stop, his hand had then started to dissolve. His right hand as well as half his forearm dissolved right off his arm. It dissolved like ash. The pain in his exhausted state was too much, the shock to his body of losing a limb was too much to shut out even with the Force. He had tried to turn off the pain with his mental conditioning but He was too tired and his efforts futile. He just did not stand a chance in his exhausted state. The thought to close his eyes never dawned on Warvanus as the Dark Side gave him a new ability but it had exacted a heavy cost. The Dark Side’s way of telling Warvanus that this was not ripped from the Force on his whim, but that the Dark Side had granted him what he wanted. As This was no ordinary secret he had been granted. The Dark Side also showed Warvanus who was supreme to put him back in check. Until now there was no living practitioner of the Force power Deadly Sight nobody since Saris could do what he had just done. Warvanus not only collapsed from the effort but his sudden loss sent him over the edge as he hit the ground as unconsciousness quickly overtook him.
Warvanus was not aware of his surroundings or how much time had passed. The last thing he remembered was ending Grison with the new secret he had taken from the Force. No not taken, been granted. What had been different from his previous efforts was the Dark Side this time demanded a hefty price, a sacrifice. As consciousness started to return, a dawning slowly bubbled to the surface of the memory of the Emperor’s Hand. He had done it but had suffered incredible pain immediately afterward. Then he remembered clearly as wakefulness continued to creep into the War-Bringer. He had done what he sought to do but then after wiping sweat from his eyes with his hand he had made the mistake of his hand being in the field of his gaze. He had lost his hand and part of his forearm as a result. He had not turned off the power before turning his gaze somewhere else and as a result of his folly he had paid the price. Not folly but complete stupidity. He should have let go. He should have closed his eyes after Grison’s body turned to ash. A being fueled on so much power and emotion it was exceedingly difficult to just let go and he had not been thinking clearly due to the drained state he was in. Slowly and cautiously he opened his eyes. He blinked slowly as he was coming back to himself. He slowly sat up, he was on a medical bed. He had tried to use his hands to sit himself up to find the attempt failed. The loss of his hand not fully dawning on him as he made the effort. He winced inwardly as he was in pain. His apprentice standing by the door. The loss of consciousness had “turned off” the power. He slowly raised his right arm to his view. He could not accept the fact he no longer had a hand. It was strange for him to look at his arm and not seeing his hand and half the forearm. It like Grison had just burned and fell off. With his good hand he grabbed on to the side of the med-bed to sit himself upright fully. He was still heavily exhausted, drained, and still in pain. The effort had taken a heavy toll on the War-Bringer. He would have to hone his swordsmanship with his left hand, that is until he had a prosthetic outfitted. He could not think about that now. He had to deal with the mental trauma of losing his hand. Being a Sith he would not wallow in it, he would become stronger for it that is what he reminded himself but whether he liked it or not or knew it or not he would have to come to grips with the lost hand.
He would learn it was his apprentice who had found him. Had she witnessed his folly he would have had to kill her to see him falter in such a stupid amateurish way. He rested until he was strong enough to walk on his own power. Warvanus returned to the room and slowly Warvanus approached the one table where the texts and tomes laid. He had never felt more spent then he did right now. He had known the ability would take a strain on the user more-so when it was the first time performing the ability, but he never imagined it would be at the level he felt. Even days later he still felt the exhaustion and strain the effort had put on him. He couldn’t levitate a datapad if he had tried as it had taken that much out of him. It was perfect time for him, for he would reflect and he would have to practice now that he had done it successfully. He had brought Deadly Sight back into the folds of the galaxy. He had hoped that he would find the next attempt a bit easier maybe even a little less draining. After a little rest and recovery he would meditate on the events that transpired within this room. He would commit the lessons that failure and folly brought him, and in the end he would be stronger for it. Future generations of Sith would maybe use this as a good example of failure being the best teacher. For now, Warvanus needed to recover and meditate.
