He chose the nearest temple, the only one he could actually make out in the dim light. Like all the tombs, this one had been dug out from the high stone cliffs that boxed in the valley on either side. The grand archway at the entrance had been built out from the cliff face, but the chambers that housed the remains of the Dark Lord interred within wound their way deep into the rock.
As he got closer, he could make out intricate designs carved into the archway. Something was written across the top in letters he didn't recognize. He guessed that the craftsmanship would have been awe inspiring at one time, but eons of desert winds had worn away most of the detail.
He paused on the threshold, taking in the air of forbidden mystery that surrounded the entrance to the tomb. He still sensed no change in the Force, however. Stepping up to the entrance, he was shocked to see that the great stone slab of a door had been split asunder. He ran his fingers along the edges of the fissure. Smooth. Worn. Whoever had broken the door had done it long ago.
Bane stood up straight and marched boldly through the shattered portal. He made his way down the long entrance tunnel, moving slowly through the gloom. Half a dozen meters in, the darkness became absolute, so he pulled out a glow rod and activated it.
An eerie blue light filled the tunnel, sending a small swarm of deadly pelko bugs scurrying for refuge beyond the dim circle of illumination. They had been stalking him, closing in from all sides. He could still sense them there, lurking in the shadows all around him, but he wasn't afraid. After all, it wasn't the light keeping them at bay.
Pelko bugs, like many of the creatures indigenous to Korriban, were attuned to the Force. They would have sensed Bane's arrival even before he entered the tomb; his power would inevitably draw them in. Yet it also kept them and their paralyzing spines at a safe distance. Instinctively, the pelko bugs could sense the sheer scope of his power; they were wary of him. They wouldn't come close enough to actually attack him, making them nothing more than a nuisance. Larger predators, like the tu'kata, might pose a real threat. But he'd deal with them if and when the time came.
Right now he was more concerned with the potential dangers the builders of the tomb might have left behind. Sith mausoleums were notorious for their fiendishly lethal traps. Bane reached out with the Force, carefully probing the walls, ground, and ceiling in front of him for anything out of the ordinary. He was relieved, and slightly disappointed, to discover nothing. Part of him had hoped he would stumble across an undiscovered chamber, something the Jedi had missed.
He continued down the tunnel, winding his way past various chambers where the wealth and treasures would have been buried with the deceased Dark Lord, along with his still-living lesser servants. The rooms held no interest for him; he wasn't a grave robber. Instead he continued deeper and deeper until he reached the burial chamber itself.
The pelko bugs matched his progress, endlessly circling just beyond the blue illumination cast by his glow rod. He could hear the high-pitched clicking, skreek skreek skreek, of the frustrated swarm: powerless to assail their prey, yet irresistibly caught up in the wake of his passing.
The burial chamber was easily identifiable by the enormous stone sarcophagus in the center of the room, resting atop a small stone pedestal. It was little more than a blocky shadow on the fringes of the glow rod's light, but it filled him with a sense of both fear and awe.
Still using the Force to scan for traps, he cautiously approached the tomb, his trepidation growing as the blue light washed over it to reveal more and more details. The stone was carved with symbols similar to those on the crypt's entrance, but these hadn't suffered untold centuries of erosion. They stood out starkly, brutal and sharp. He couldn't read the unfamiliar language or identify the Dark Lord from the crest, yet he knew this was the resting place of an ancient and mighty being.
He reached the platform; it stood a little higher than his knee. He put one foot on it, then reached out to grip a protruding edge of one of the carved symbols on the side of the sarcophagus itself. He half expected to receive a sharp jolt or shock, but all he felt was cold stone beneath his palm.
Using his hold to maintain his balance, he hauled himself up so that he was standing with both feet on the platform, looking down at the top of the tomb. To his horror, he could now see that the stone slab sealing the sarcophagus had been virtually destroyed. Whatever had been inside was gone, replaced by rubble, dust, and a few bits of broken bone that might once have been the fingers or toes of the Dark Lord's skeletal remains.
He stepped down from the platform, frustrated but still not willing to give up. Slowly, he turned in a great circle, as if he expected to find the stolen remains lying in a corner of the burial chamber. There was nothing: the tomb had been robbed and defiled.
Bane hadn't been sure what he expected to find, but it wasn't this. The spirits of the ancient Dark Lords were beings of pure dark side energy; they were as eternal as the Force itself. The spirit would linger for centuries, millennia, even, until a worthy successor came along. Or so the texts in the archive had led him to believe.
Yet the harsh evidence before him was undeniable. The ancient manuscripts had failed him. He had gambled everything on the truth of their words, even defying Qordis himself, and he had lost.
In desperation he cast his head back and threw his arms to the uneven rock of the ceiling above. "I'm here, Master!" he cried. "I've come to learn your secrets!" He paused, listening for a response. Hearing nothing, he shouted, "Show yourself! By all the power of the dark side, show yourself!"
His words reverberated off the walls, sounding empty and hollow. He dropped to his knees, his arms falling to his sides and his head slumping forward. As the echo died away, the only sound was the shrill clicking of the pelko bugs.
Kopecz spit on the ground as he surveyed the camp. He was surrounded by an army, but it was an army of inferiors. Everywhere he looked he saw the minions of the Sith: battle ragers, assassins, and apprentices. But there were precious few Sith Masters. The seemingly endless war against the Jedi on the battlefields of Ruusan was taking a heavy toll on Kaan's Brotherhood of Darkness. Without reinforcements they would be forced to retreat, or be wiped out by General Hoth and his hated Army of Light.
The heavyset Twi'lek rose to his feet, spurred to action by the realization that something had to be done. He made his way through scattered pockets of soldiers, noticing how many were injured, exhausted, or simply defeated. By the time he reached the entrance to Lord Kaan's tent the contempt he felt for his so-called Brothers had reached a boiling point.
When Kopecz entered, Lord Kaan took one look at him and dismissed his other advisers with a sharp wave of his hand. They filed out, none of them daring to come too close.
"What is it, my old friend?" Kaan asked. His voice was charming as ever, but his eyes were wide and wild, like a hunted beast.
"Have you seen what passes for our army out there?" Kopecz snarled, poking a thumb over his shoulder as he walked slowly forward. "If this is all we have to stand against Lord Hoth, we may as was well burn our black robes and start practicing the Jedi Code."