Lily might be trying to make it harder for her.

The effort makes the satisfaction sweeter.

And the end result greater. 

Indeed.

Then, in due course, they must get cleaned up and join the attack.

As a final course. 

And a fitting end.

Thanaton's base is well-defended, of course, but they are a match for it. And Lily gets a glimpse of what makes Occlus special.

At a gesture, her self separates into three, ghostly imprints of long-dead Sith lords. They have a fuzzy signature in the Force, a muddled combination of whatever their own might have been overwritten by Occlus's distinctive style. They act separately, but as extensions of her will, cutting across the battlefield and dividing it in wrath and terror.

A beautiful work. (And a fascinating look into this universe's deeper workings.)

Lily plays crowd control, by and large, keeping to an acolyte-appropriate power level.

And eventually they're able to corner Thanaton in an open courtyard.

The duel between he and Occlus is both more even and more flagrantly showy than any of the fights thus far, with many arcane rituals and bits of sorcery flung around and countered with other rituals or, more often in Occlus's case, simple raw power.

Thanaton is losing, though.

When this becomes obvious enough and before he's truly pinned down, he blasts Occlus back to gain a moment of breathing room and starts gathering power.

"You fool," he sneers. "I am a lord of the Dark Council. You have neither the power nor the authority to kill me."

(Lily can sense that he's aiming to boost himself up and out of the courtyard and flee the scene that way.)

There's authorities greater than any Sith, of course.

And it thinks he isn't going anywhere, actually. That the Force isn't actually going to do what he asks, here.

He looks a little nonplussed when his takeoff fails to get off the ground.

"You- what have you done?"

Occlus smirks. "Taken the power." She raises a hand and begins choking Thanaton with the Force, lifting his feet slightly off the ground. "And now, your authority."

Indecipherable protest!

Lovely.

Occlus blasts him backwards into the wall with a powerful bolt of lightning, maintaining her grip on his airway. Then continues to pour the lightning on, until the former Dark Lord is nothing but a smoldering corpse, stinking faintly of burnt pork.

Occlus is pretty.

(It makes sure he's very much dead, that he has no tricks he'll successfully pull to bother them again.)

"Congratulations, my Lord."

"Thank you, apprentice. I have been waiting a long time for that."

"A success worth celebrating."

"Very true."

Occlus will start by claiming a kiss from each of her apprentices, then.

Kiss!!!

Kiss!

"And now, my beautiful girls, we go to claim the spoils of our victory."