Inside a secluded warehouse, strings of candles and overhead lights illuminated the abandoned space.
The sole occupant was a solitary man with Muur's talisman hanging from his wrist.
He frowned and rubbed his neck. His robes were torn, his skin marked with scrapes and bruises.
Acquiring this host hadn't been easy—he belonged to one of Kaecilius's zealots.
Seducing him had been simple enough. He was the most susceptible to promises of greater power among the group.
This man had been hesitant, fearful of whatever force had driven Kaecilius and his followers to rebel against the Mystic Order.
All Muur had needed to do was plant a few enticing whispers before ensnaring him completely.
Power lies here. The ability to overthrow both Kaecilius and the Ancient One.
This zealot was now his vessel—the first body held captive by Muur's will. The man's weak mind allowed the ancient Sith Lord to manipulate and control him easily.
Muur's stolen host stood alone in the warehouse, surrounded by the considerable amount of mystical texts he'd pilfered.
Stealing this knowledge from those fanatics hadn't been simple.
They'd been strong enough to resist the Rakghoul plague he'd attempted to spread among them.
The battle had turned against him because their magic and powers were unfamiliar, forcing him to make a desperate escape.
However, the Rakghouls' unexpected intrusion into the cathedral had provided enough distraction for his getaway.
Using his host's memories, he'd created his first portal to flee—and here he now stood.
Muur needed to grow stronger and adapt to his current environment before furthering his ambitions.
With the vessel he now possessed, he could pursue a new path. He needed to exploit that advantage fully.
Muur delved into the young practitioner's mind and discovered fragments the man had encountered during his studies. Though insignificant to the zealot, the ancient Sith found them fascinating.
There was mention of a long-lost relic that had once protected this planet's mystical order. Even the current Sorcerer Supreme was unaware of its location.
Muur didn't know if she'd ever cared.
What mattered was finding this lost artifact.
It was called the Book of Cagliostro—a grimoire recording Cagliostro's personal history and vast knowledge. It also contained various forbidden spells, including dark magic from the Darkhold itself.
If he could locate this tome, Muur could trade it for what he desired.
To become stronger meant acquiring more power. And the fastest method of gaining power quickly was absorbing useful knowledge from other beings.
Muur carefully traced an intricate summoning circle on the ground, inscribing various runes within and around the design. He channeled both the Force and his host's magical abilities to begin summoning creatures for him to consume.
The first time he'd attempted this, he'd summoned a tentacled aberration that had nearly killed his host.
He wouldn't repeat that mistake. Not until he was ready.
"Now... let's start small," Muur muttered to himself.
The Sith carefully studied the instructions from the tome floating before him. He pressed his palms together, reached out to touch the mystical power within his vessel, and chanted an incantation.
It was a strange sensation for the Sith Lord—it didn't feel like the Force initially, but he soon detected familiar elements.
Sorcery similar to what he'd wielded while alive on the mortal plane.
He swept his hands forward, and before him a circle appeared with a series of runes and symbols, a beam of light glowing at its center.
A portal to summon his first victim.
The first creature to emerge was... unique. Though the Sith's spirit didn't recognize it, his host knew it was an imp—a disturbing, demonic one.
It glared at the Sith Lord, growling threateningly, its body tensing as though preparing to pounce.
Muur gazed down at the creature with satisfaction.
From his eyes and mouth, beams of light shot forth, making contact with the creature before it could attack.
The imp let out a sharp, chaotic shriek as energy enveloped it. In an instant, its expression shifted from aggression to terror.
Within minutes, it was drawn into and absorbed by Muur's host.
After taking a deep breath and feeling his strength grow incrementally stronger, Muur smiled.
"So... what's next?" Muur's host now wore a ravenous expression.
One by one, the Sith spirit summoned a succession of beings with varying levels of power. Over time, each was absorbed as he grew more formidable than he'd been in millennia.
Until finally, he decided he'd accumulated enough power to satisfy his immediate needs.
"Hmm... perhaps one more," he muttered, his hands gleaming with energy. "Time to greet an old friend."
From the summoning circle, the tentacled abomination rapidly emerged. Before it could strike, Muur sealed the portal and severed many of its limbs. They writhed across the floor, allowing the ancient Sith to quickly absorb them.
"Now then," Muur conjured a series of runes and symbols before slamming his hands against his chest.
He cried out in agony as his entire body shifted and contorted, feeling as though he were being torn apart.
The transformation ended quickly. He coughed for several moments before recovering. He immediately conjured a warped mirror before himself.
Staring at his reflection, Muur saw that his host's form had been severely distorted by absorbing so many entities. The zealot's spirit had been strangled moments ago when he could no longer withstand the excessive power flowing through his body. As a result, this body was now Muur's alone.
He could restore it to its original appearance, but the Sith spirit had another idea.
Drawing an image in his mind, he transformed his appearance into the form he knew best.
Within minutes, the body reformed. Bones cracked to proper length and dimensions, shaped into his desired configuration. When finished, Muur gazed at his reflection again, pleased with the result.
A tall man with intense amber eyes and dark hair that faded to white near his pointed ears. His beard was sharp and trimmed to a precise point. The maroon robes his host had worn remained mostly intact, with several alterations. The addition of a pointed purple cape with gold trim gave him rather distinctive markings. His talisman still hung from his wrist.
The only thing missing was a lightsaber to make him feel complete—to make him feel and appear as he had all those millennia ago.
Muur released a laugh that echoed throughout the warehouse.
"Ah! I'm truly alive again!" He laughed joyfully. "Finally."
Then his expression shifted to something far more sinister.
"Soon, this world will fall to the Sith as so many others have," Muur declared, that familiar sensation of unbridled ambition and hunger washing over him. "When the time is right, I'll return to my galaxy and conquer it myself."
Muur began laughing hysterically, reveling in the power he now commanded.
His laughter ceased when he sensed something entering his domain.
He frowned momentarily before transforming it into a sly smile.
Muur turned and came face-to-face with individuals he'd passed the point of calling mere acquaintances.
As much as he enjoyed his overwhelming new power, there was something deliciously satisfying about watching someone who'd once been his host express pure, unadulterated terror while gazing upon him.
"Muur..." Celeste Morn whispered in horror. "You..."
"Hello, my dear Celeste," Muur said viciously. "How wonderful to see you again."
"Muur, you have a body," the Jedi said in complete disbelief.
"Indeed," Muur replied, raising his hands to display his transformed form. "Better and stronger than ever before."
"What have you done?" asked an Asian man beside the Jedi.
Muur surveyed the group.
With Celeste stood her lover, along with Wong and Mordo, plus a Hispanic man holding chains wreathed in flame.
Though he regarded all of them with overwhelming superiority, the one wielding the chains gave him pause—actually inspiring a brief flash of fear.
Something was profoundly wrong with that man, but Muur didn't dwell on it.
Muur's eyes flashed with manic light. "I must say, accidentally arriving on this backwater world was a blessing in disguise. I never knew such power existed and could be so easily obtained. All these entities..."
He gave the Jedi Shadow a sadistic smile.
"I have you to thank, Celeste."
"Don't you understand what you've done?!" Mordo shouted, unnerved by what he witnessed. "Absorbing all those entities—all those interdimensional beings? They'll devour you from within, and when they do, they'll be unleashed upon the world."
"As if I care," Muur snorted. "They cannot control a Dark Lord of the Sith. They're now bent to my will."
With that declaration, Muur swiftly blasted them away with his newfound strength.
With his current body, the resurrected Sith flew toward another corner of the warehouse. Though he wanted to eliminate these opponents immediately, Muur wasn't foolish—he knew he still needed time to master these new abilities.
He'd only learned to absorb, but now it was time to learn how to wield the more offensive and devastating spells these mystics commanded.
Before he could conjure the portal he needed to escape, Muur paused in his flight when something caught his attention.
There he beheld a row of homeless men, bound and unconscious—people whose disappearances no one would notice, let alone mourn.
His malicious smile returned as he extended his arm with the talisman attached.
Time to celebrate his return properly.
Although it was winter in Russia, the weather was brutally cold.
But that didn't deter this solitary man from walking through a snowstorm with a mission.
Baron Helmut Zemo had trudged through what felt like endless snow to reach his current location.
While most people would consider crossing the Siberian tundra a suicidal notion, to Baron Zemo it was nothing.
This former Baron of Sokovia had been forged in war. Death was his specialty. Dismantling organizations...
Well, let's just say he understood that art better than most gave him credit for.
Zemo finally reached his destination, standing before a door leading to an underground bunker belonging to the abandoned HYDRA facility.
Killing HYDRA agent Vasily Karpov had been the first step in tracking down this location.
Having James Buchanan Barnes under his brief control was the final use of that base.
Zemo retrieved the red book he'd taken from Karpov and flipped through its pages until finding the one he needed.
Glancing around momentarily, he spotted a small indentation in the wall and quickly pried it off, revealing a numbered keypad.
He entered the numerical code required to access the base. Soon after, the door suddenly hissed open.
Cautious, Zemo instinctively hovered his hand over where he kept his pistol concealed in his jacket, just in case.
The bunker was supposedly abandoned, but his experience as a Sokovian special forces operative had taught him better.
He carefully entered the facility as quietly as possible.
The eerie silence unnerved him, making him wonder what horrors had transpired in this forsaken HYDRA base.
Since he'd found no map, navigating the corridors took considerable time. However, he eventually located what he'd come for.
In the pitch-black chamber, five cylindrical pods stood prominently in the large room.
Scanning the area, Zemo found a lever on a control panel outside the chamber and walked over to flip it upward.
Steam emanated from all five pods as the metal cylinders—which had served only as coverings for whatever lay beneath—began opening.
The purpose of his trek to Siberia.
Staring into the cryopods, countless thoughts raced through Zemo's mind.
All five assassins had been rigorously trained. Each possessed the highest kill count in HYDRA's history before receiving the infamous super-soldier serum. Easily, these other Winter Soldiers could topple nations and governments with simple orders.
It could be that simple. It would have been Zemo's responsibility to make it happen if things had gone differently. The scientists had needed to update their programming before the program was suspended until all issues were resolved. According to the last report he'd found while combing through digital files, they'd all been ready for deployment.
Baron Sokovia could have his army here and now.
The concept of super-soldiers troubled him profoundly. It was difficult to become beings like them. The desire for such power was inseparable from ideals of supremacy. Anyone with that serum flowing through their veins walked that path.
If released, these HYDRA assassins wouldn't stop—they'd escalate until someone killed them.
Fortunately for the rest of the world, Zemo had a solution.
He drew his pistol, disengaged the safety, took careful aim, and then—
Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang.
Zemo exhaled a shaky breath, almost forcing it out as a numbing sense of calm washed over him.
He watched with grim satisfaction as the holes appeared in their heads and blood flowed from them before freezing.
These abominations would bring no more suffering to the world. No one would fall victim to these potential threats.
As much as he wanted to leave this place immediately, he had other business to attend to.
He'd made a promise.
A promise to ensure an empire's fall.
The next phase of his plan was here, locked away in this facility.
The super-soldiers were dead.
Now the real work began.