Journal of a Dark Lord : Entry One

67 B.B.Y.

It is done. The apprentice has finally become the master. For years he engraved his teachings into my memory yet in the end, our aspirations lay on quite opposite spectrums.
The Force is no slave to mastery. That is what Tenebrous and previous teachers misinterpreted. The same Force that binds all living things within this galaxy cannot be conquered. It can, however, be altered.
As I watched Tenebrous's life flee from the glow within his pupils, I could see the Midi-chlorians leave his body and disperse into the atmosphere. My attempts to gather them together in containment were refuted, for my former Master gripped my arm in what I assume was an effort for parting words. This interruption caused my reaction to break his neck.
When I returned my attention to the Midi-chlorians, they'd disintegrated into the atmosphere and I was left alone with my former Master's lifeless body.
Another attempt to study the Midi-chlorians sabotaged. Even so, now I am the lone surviving Lord of the Sith. I carry the dark mantle that generations of teachings have passed forward yet I intend on procuring a different route.
The Sith are not wrong to desire power--a Code would not exist otherwise. Those who came before sought to obtain the title of Sith'ari yet all craved power so immense that it became their own undoing. All desired power but none were willing to learn its limits.
I shall be different. I will research the source of my power and through it, prolong lifespans and even raise those long forgotten from the tombs of Korriban. I will become the Sith'ari.