Along with some of these senior Jedi come their Padawans, informed of some of the details and aware of the darkness creeping in on them.

The atmosphere is solemn.

As it should be. Asking a Jedi to go to war is no small request. It goes against almost every precept they have.

Yet what choice is there? This invasion shows every sign of being a total existential threat.

More information is needed. They don't yet know what they face.

How should that information be gathered? Too many Jedi have been lost already. The risk is too great.

Dante, unfortunately, does not immediately have any ideas he expects to be useful.

What evidence do they have so far, what remains after the invasion, or do they not yet know this?

Burned-out ruins and shattered husks, on those planets they've been able to approach.

… Were there many Force-sensitives on the relevant planets?

One of the first was host to a training excursion. And of course, many of the others had Jedi on them after that. But the path follows a clear line from some point in the Unknown Regions, that doesn't seem relevant.

He was wondering if they'd… put up much of a fight.

Interdicting transmissions is always one of the first things the enemy does.

That would explain the lack of information.

Which is exactly why they need to send a team-

Heedless of the danger?

Tempers seem to be flaring. Unusual for a gathering of masters, they tend to keep each other in check. Might be a good idea to do a bit of meditating while they hash things out for a while and make sure his own mental state is sound.

That does sound like a good idea, and he's not particularly useful at present. He excuses himself from the meeting to look for somewhere to do that.

There's several out-of-the-way rooms that might suit.

He picks one, takes a seat, and starts focusing inwards.

The cloud over the Force is still here, even with all the Masters present. In fact, it seems stronger than it was.

This seems… problematic.

Does it seem much stronger, would it indicate it spreading?

It's more like it's concentrated. As though the source is present.

– Is he able to figure out what direction, does he need to send a warning?

If the Masters haven't already sensed it, it's too late. The darkness is about to swell, he should focus on trying to preserve his own sense of self-

He keeps centered, focuses on protecting himself from the coming danger –

A shriek and a whisper; sound and not-sound. A timeless eternity as the great devouring dark comes to rip away all that you love, all that you are.

Satisfaction.

He's used to ignoring distractions.

There are so many of them.

Is that the building shaking or is he losing his grip?

The grip is what he's focusing on maintaining to protect himself, he keeps at it –

The crash of crumbling masonry and those screams are definitely not in his head.

He jolts out of the meditation, takes a look at the room around him –

A chunk of the ceiling has collapsed and blocked the door. Cracks in the walls and the floor.

Cracks in his hands too, when he catches a glimpse of them, with tiny little bugs crawling out preparing to feast on his flesh.

Hallucination, is more likely, but he can try squishing the bugs anyway while he checks the door is actually blocked –

Squishing the bugs has no effect. The door is quite thoroughly buried. And an ominous groaning indicates that the rest of the area will soon be in a similar state.

Maybe he should try to cut through the outer wall and make a proper escape.

He spins away from the door, tries to ignore the bugs – if there's no effect he can probably ignore them and if he can't ignore them he at least can't afford to keep paying attention – and goes to the other wall, drawing his lightsaber to try to cut through it.

The wall presents no resistance. It's a short drop to the ground.

He leaps out, lands, and starts trying to get away.

The air is filled with dusty, choking ash. It's hard to breathe.

He should dodge left.

He does so, barely questioning the choice –

A strange grey spike erupts from the earth where he was standing, and slams into the building.

He – startles a little – and keeps going, not sure how he'll ultimately get away but it being preferable to get away anyway.

The ash in the air clouds his vision as well as his lungs, and something seems to have gone wrong with his sense of direction. He keeps coming back to the building, now pierced multiple times with more of the spikes.

He keeps trying, centering himself and trying to focus on the surroundings to ignore it, get around the tricks –

He stumbles, falls to the ground-

And a shadow looms.

He looks up, starts to try to get to his feet, and something tells him not to mess with – whatever the fuck that is –

He falls again and tries not to look too obviously terrified.

A bone-white mask suspended in the inky blackness beneath the figure's dark cowl regards him.

When it speaks, the voice has an eldritch overtone that chills him to the bone. "Lies do not become you, boy. I can feel your fear. Do not try to hide it."

"What benefits you, to do this?"

"Benefits are a lie told by the ignorant to justify the disregard of inevitability."

"– So you choose to destroy that which is?"

"Choice, too, is a lie."

"A convincing one, for it has played me a fool."

"Unarguably."

And he should move now-

He pushes himself to the side, dodges away.

A flash, and the space he previously occupied is now a crater.

The mask tilts to the side, curiously.

"Something on your mind?" he shouts.

"Why do you yet live?"

"There is a vast quantity behind that answer."

"Untrained and undisciplined. But I sense... strength."

"Of course you do," he mutters.

"You have one chance to live, boy."

"One that's broken into an infinity of smaller chances."

"No one was to survive here. No Jedi can be permitted to."

"Did fate tell you so herself?"

Brace-

A bolt of lightning jumps out and strikes him.

It crackles as it hits, causing Dante to cry out – fucking lightning – but he doesn't fall very far, being close to the ground anyway.

The figure waits.

It takes a little, but he catches his breath and looks back at them.

"Should I stop with the backchat."

"You might give me more to go on."

"Your survival is a balance between your usefulness to me and the annoyance of your existence."

"I don't know what you consider annoying."

He starts to get up from the ground.

"People who are deliberately obtuse."

"Should I consider you to be like the average person, then, just darker?"

Zap.

"Because you survived where your fellows did not, I give you this choice: serve me and live, or die screaming like the rest."

He tries not to writhe too much in response to the pain but it's hard –

"Are they all gone, then?" is what he says, when he gets control of himself.

"Each and every."

"What's the point, then?"

Silence.

"What's the point in – just –" His voice breaks a little. "– What's the point in decimating us and then expecting me to – follow you along –"

The shadow stands unmoved.

Dante gets onto his feet, stumbling a little, and calls his lightsaber to his hand.

Let him come.

The lightsaber sparks to life, amber, held carefully –

– and then he charges.

She stands utterly still until the very last moment, then raises her palm and catches the tip of it. It sinks in and does not emerge from the other side. When the hilt reaches her, she rips it out of his hands and blasts him backwards.

He's flung through the air, lands a distance away, injured but not to the level of broken bones – and starts trying to get back up –

He will be allowed to do so.

"What – corrupted you –?"

"This is not corruption. This is purity."

"It is probably not helpful to argue semantics."

Does he want to die? Because this is how he dies.

"— But – purity of what –?"

"I am the truest expression of the will of the Force this galaxy has seen in millennia."

"The will – being fate, the lack of choice?"

"The will being eradication."

"Of – people, everything –?"

"All life is food."

"I assume that wasn't meant to be reassuring."

"The denial of this truth is the weakness of the Jedi."

"So what's next." He looks around himself, wounded, disarmed. "I'm almost completely at your mercy."

"Submit, or die."

It takes a bit of thought.

But then: "I surrender," he tries.

"Then kneel."

He does so. Bends his head a bit, too.

His head is enveloped in darkness.

"What you were, I take from you. All that you are belongs to me."

"Rise, Darth Indevitus."

He stands, trying to keep his conflicted… emotions… off his face.

"Follow." And off the figure goes.

Stumbling would be a bad idea – he tries not to, tries to ignore the pain, following not far behind.

Soon, a shuttle becomes visible. The figure gets in.

He follows – presumably he is to follow in, he was told to follow.

The shuttle is- fairly normal, actually.

Apart from the shadow.

Of course it is.

He tries to focus on – anything else, really.

He'll find that quite hard.

Can he stare at the shadow in a nonthreatening way instead then.

He may.

He does that.

"What do you feel?"

"… Emotionally? – My lord?"

"Yes."

"… Fear. Predominantly."

"Why do you fear?"

"I – have not managed to adjust my emotional reaction, to what's happening. The inevitable."

"Do not try. Embrace it."

"The fear?"

"It is a source of strength. Let it motivate you."

… He doesn't ask 'to what?', not this time.

He does suppose –

– he can't actually do anything, here. There's nothing left for him.

Not really.

So he tries to let the fear, and the lingering feelings of helplessness slowly turning him numb – he  tries to let them motivate him.

See where it goes.