The Thousand Sith Sword

The acidic wind of Malachor whistled through the ruins of the ancient Sith temple, carrying with it the dust of a thousand years of forgotten wars. Kedran Voss adjusted his respirator mask over his scarred face as his boots sank into the black sand. The expander knew he was desecrating sacred ground, but the clue found in the Sith holocron left no doubt: here lay the Thousand Sith Sword, the legendary weapon forged from the hatred of fallen Dark Lords.

The Recurring Nightmare

Since he was a child, Kedran dreamed of the sword. In his visions, he saw it embedded in a throne of bones, pulsing with a dark energy that distorted the air around it. The Jedi masters warned him that they were mere fantasies... until Order 66 made those dreams the last vestige of his past.

Now, after decades of self-imposed exile, the holocron stolen from a Neimoidian mercenary had given him the exact location: Eclipse Chamber, underground of the Temple of Malachor.

The Descent

The spiral staircase seemed to go on forever. The walls, carved with reliefs of Sith sacrificing Jedi, glowed in the ghostly light of embedded kyber crystals. Kedran felt the Force around him thicken, like poisoned honey.

Reaching the sanctuary, he found not a sword, but a black crystal lightsaber floating on an obsidian pedestal. Its hilt, adorned with Sith runes, pulsed to the rhythm of his own heart.

"Touch me," whispered a voice that echoed directly through his mind.

The Visions

As she closed her fingers around the weapon, the world exploded into images:

An unknown Jedi, centuries ago, using the blade to seal a Sith army in a dimensional chasm.
Kedran himself, with yellow eyes, leading legions of dark wraiths against Coruscant.
A hooded figure (the Emperor? Someone older?) laughing as the temple crumbled.
Amid the chaos, she recognized Yoda's voice: "The fear of the dark makes it darker."

The Deception of the Wraiths

The shadows around the pedestal took shape: the thousand Sith whose spirits fueled the weapon. They whispered promises in a chorus of dead languages:

"With us, you will restore the Jedi... purge the unworthy... have the power Sidious only dreamed of."

Kedran felt the temptation course through his veins, sweet as the wine of Mustafar. But then he saw the truth: the sword was not a weapon, but a prison, and he was the key that would free his captives.

The Sacrifice

With a scream that tore from his throat, Kedran slammed his lightsaber into the pedestal. Cracks of red energy spread across the floor as the wraiths howled.

"TRAITOR!"

The temple began to collapse. As he ran for the exit, a slab caught his right arm, wrenching the lightsaber of his own making from its grip, sending it tumbling into the newly opened abyss.

Epilogue: The Seed of Evil

Years later, in the underworld of Nar Shaddaa, a Twi'lek mercenary told tales of a "ghost Jedi" roaming the Unknown Regions.

"They say he seeks something... a sword that bleeds darkness," he muttered between sips of ryncol.

In the shadows of the cantina, a hooded figure with a prosthetic right arm listened silently. Beneath the cloak, a kyber crystal in his pocket pulsed red.