"I will see you then. Do not let your master catch you with my saber."

"I won't."

Occlus nods, and goes back the way she came, pulling in her presence as she leaves.

It's not just the condescension. Not just the belittling. Not just the indirect humiliation, the ignoring it when the other apprentices do the Jedi version of bullying, the subtle insistence that she's wrong and incorrect and will never amount to anything, the having to show respect for this despicable creature. It's all of it together.

So she has some mixed feelings about it all. Positive: never see her master again; negative: she's actually working with a Sith. Was that lightsaber even Occlus'? She didn't think to verify at the time—why is she even trusting the Sith? Is her master this horrible?

(Yes. Yes he is.)

So two days later she's waiting.

And, in the dead of night, when the enclave is quiet, Occlus comes ghosting up to the door.

It opens.

A large chunk of night detaches itself to follow her. Once inside, it resolves into the intimidating bulk of a Dashade.

"My bodyguard, Khem Val. Say hello, Khem."

The tall reptilian growls something that probably approximates a greeting.

She does not react with alarm, externally or otherwise, and merely dips her head in greeting.

"Watch the door," she says to Khem, then to the Jedi: "Do you have a single room or shared? Privacy would be best."

"Shared."

"We'll need somewhere else, then. At least two meters square of space. Preferably with a door."

"I can get a place like that."

She starts leading the way.

Occlus follows, hood up, flitting from shadow to shadow.

They eventually reach a small training room with a dummy and a drone in a corner.

"This will work." She pulls out a pen and begins tracing a circle on the floor, outlined by arcane runes. "Once I begin, it is important that you not disturb me. Ask any last minute questions now, or save them."

"Why'd you bring him?" she asks of the Dashade.

"Insurance against contingencies such as you changing your mind and greeting me with a squad of troopers instead of an open door."

She nods.

She finishes the diagram and puts the pen away, taking out a small knife instead. She makes a shallow cut on her palm and allows a few spatters of blood to drip down.

"This will be more effective with a sample from you as well, if you are willing."

She stares at the knife. "Why?"

"To conquer your enemy, you must first be able to confront him. Right now, the ghost is anchored but loosely to this place. He must be given cause and ability to manifest fully."

"And that entails this ritual needing my blood because...?"

"The blood is a symbolic link, representing in abstract your presence and power. Bait for the trap."

"Okay." She takes the knife and does as instructed.