[img]http://i680.photobucket.com/albums/vv167/Assallya/Vindica_1.jpg[/img]

So many secrets lost to the divisive nature of the Sith, so many more secrets lost to the ages, buried and forgotten.  Vindica lamented their loss.  So many techniques, so many of the old ways lost.  The Sith witch floated a foot above the cold black basaltic stone floor with her legs crossed and with an octahedron floating a few inches from her outstretched fingers.  The octahedron, a Sith holocron, glowed crimson, a black miasma surrounding it, one that filled one sensitive to such matters with dread and despair.  It affected Vindica not.  The force was raw emotion and Vindica had long mastered her fears and her despair.  Still, no matter what combination of images she cast into the icon it refused to open.

Vindica grimaced, her black stained lips twisting in frustration as the octahedron rotated in the space before her, the ancient Sith runes crawling across the surface as if alive, as if trying to escape her gaze, as if keeping it's secrets for itself.  She half closed her eyes, dusk painted eyelids making her skin appear that much paler.  She projected rage, she projected fear of a powerful monster, she cast loneliness upon it and still nothing.

"Curse you," she muttered, allowing a moment's frustration to take her and then cast that into the holocron as well, "Open damn you."

She struggled for several minutes more, floating in mid-air, before something flashed across her senses.  Her mind caught fire.  An ephemeral fist clenched at her heart and she screamed.  Having lost focus she fell, her buttocks slamming against the cold stone floor and she writhed in agony.  The force screamed out in pain.  A billion, a trillion life forces had been snuffed out and it had cleft a massive wound in the very force itself.  It wasn't as if they had died.  Such a thing fed the dark side.  Their essences, the force of which they were made had been torn apart, torn asunder.  It was as if the very galaxy had been wounded.

None of this was immediately apparent to Vindica.  That would come later.  All she could feel was the endless searing agony.  She writhed on the floor, bare toes digging at the floor, fingers twisted into claws that sought to rend but had nothing to claw upon.  She flipped over and arched her back, drumming her bare heels on the floor and screamed until she was hoarse, until she mercifully lost consciousness and if asked... she wasn't entirely certain she had stopped screaming even then.