“Damn you Quinn, force damn you. Get the hell away from me before I separate your head from your body.” Sycandus remembered snarling that at Quinn. He couldn’t remember much else, it was all a clouded vision of red, the red of his saber slicing through the mindless droids that stood in his path. Sycandus was a sith, a being of power and might, feared throughout the galaxy as the Emperor’s hand. Even in his moment of greatest pain he had shown mercy, any other sith, even a lowly acolyte would have severed the man’s head or worse without a second thought. But Sycandus hadn’t, he couldn’t, even after his best friend betrayed him he couldn’t bring himself to end the life of a man who had supported him through so much. He was weak in the eyes of any sith who knew, his master had played him and he hadn’t killed his pawn.
Bringing his lightsaber to his hand with a simple nudge of the force he ignited the crimson blade, the blade that bloodied the pearlescent white snow of hoth, the blade that ended the lives of the weak. Quinn deserved the blade, he had played his side for the three years he knew him, but in reality he pledged himself to Baras, pledged himself to his insane master. Why hadn’t he killed him when he revealed his trap? Sycandus had never hesitated with his blade, never hesitated to cut down aggressors, never blinked before he struck down those in his way. He had shed a single tear as he told Quinn to get out, he hadn’t cried since he was a young boy on Korriban, brought from the slave pits to serve Baras as an apprentice.
Sycandus looked deep into the red of his blade, it glowed brightly in the otherwise dark room, casking sickly red shadows across the walls of his quarters. The blade emanated from a black steel and gold hilt, the gold emblazoned across the steel in intricate patterns, this was his, in fact it was his first possession. He forged it from the black steel shock collar that used to keep him tethered to his master’s will, the gold embellishments came later, ripped from the overly dramatic robes of his masters replacement apprentice. Baras had cast Sycandus off as soon as he feared he was too powerful, sending his second apprentice to do the job. What both had forgotten was the immense skill he possessed, and the allies he had. At the time he would have called Quinn one of said allies, he fought by Sycanda’s side opposing Baras. Now though times had changed, evidently Quinn was no longer an ally he could trust.
The sith taught that one must destroy all who oppose them to be safe, with that knowledge the sith teachings pounded into Sycandus from his time in the academy demanded he kill Quinn. He had the means, hundreds of possibilities, his lightsaber, the force, he could even simply kick him out the airlock and watch as his life ceases in the endless void. What Sycandus didn’t have was the will, he couldn’t just kill a man that served him loyally for three years, the man that proceeded over his wedding, and the man that became his first friend. The jedi preached this, mercy and compassion, but the sith despised it, he was a sith so why was he giving mercy?
Turning the lightsaber off, he sat down to meditate, he needed to see what was inside him before he truly forgave or killed Quinn. As soon as he opened his mind inward he saw what he expected, his being was almost fully steeped in the red of the dark side, but not fully, he could see some sort of light shining out of the cracks in the red energy. The light was pure white, shining with a brilliance to blind a man who starred, this was not right he was a sith, there should be no uncorrupted light in him, but it was undeniably there, and it was powerful. The shock of such a revelation broke the trance like state he had entered. Blinking a few times to get his eyes used to the darkness again he looked towards the hilt still floating in front of him, it was no usual sith hilt. Sith usually built their hilts to look powerful and menacing, with exposed cores and crystals, but his didn’t fit that description, it was simple and elegant. He had built his saber to look beautiful not dangerous, definitely not like a sith blade, but it didn’t look like a jedi blade either, they made theirs simple and functional, with common metals and woods. Sycandus understood then and there what his mater meant when he had said a lightsaber is an extension of the wielder, he had originally thought that his master meant the crystal, which was connected to the builder, or to the power it signified. Neither was fully right, the makeup of the hilt, the design, the use of the sacred weapon were all connected to the wielder.
The sith had tried to mold Sycandus into a weapon of the dark side, but he learned then that he was no sith, he used their power and followed their rules, but his being and his force signature all clawed for something different. He showed mercy because he knew it to be right, he let Quinn live because deep down he had mercy. He was no jedi, certainly not, but he was realizing that he was no sith either, he was somewhere in between. The full extent of his understanding would have to wait, right now he felt the need for two things, and a plan was slowly forming for both to work together.
Quinn would get his mercy and his forgiveness, he was a pawn of Baras, his moves pre-selected by another. Baras on the other hand would die, Sycandus needed his revenge, he still had some sith flowing through his veins after all. Once he had made up with Quinn and killed his former master he would leave this stupid war, he had no part in either side, he would live out his days alone, learning about the balance that he had inside, the balance that had been forged into his tool of war. Maybe not alone, he would of course bring his wife along, and Quinn could even come too, forgiveness and hate were both part of his being now.