I wager you are wondering what it felt like: To flow; to drift; free from all mortal toils, without form and yet consistent in the shape of pure will and energy. It was agonizing to tell you the truth, to die; to experience your body surrender utterly to the power of the dark side, which had laboured to consume me for so very long. Finally it claimed its due, but I was free - I had escaped the avalanche that tumbled my house.
I drifted through time and space, a disembodied spirit projecting towards its intended haunt. At the core of my being, or rather, in the illuminescent fibbers of my transcended form, I felt an eternity pass. But I now realize it must have been a short one, lasting only for the duration of a thunderbolt’s flash across the sky.
There was a collision, a connection; I felt my immaterial form flow into physical matter. I entered a mind, emptied and prepared. Imagine water flowing into a pool; Its outlining can be of an intricate or simple design, it matters not to the water. Yes, it was like that; my essence effortlessly taking root in this new vessel. I gasped then and felt my lungs fill with oxygen.
What? You did not consult this holocron for the sake of a flamboyant recollection, but in the hopes of actually learning about this technique? That is rich, not to mention incredible naïve: A Sith holocron is a means for a Sith lord to store their wisdom and knowledge, for the sake of retaining their legacy beyond death. But you see, I have no intention of dying any time soon, and between my long-lived Anzat body and this ability, I will not have to. If you wish to master the secret of Transfer Essence approach me, I am likely still around. Then I shall determine whether I find it worth preserving you beyond the expiration date. Now be silent and let me return to my tale...
Changing bodies presents issues beyond the the realm of the ethereal. The late Sith Emperor enforced laws against such techniques, no doubt to ensure that none had the longevity to one day rival his wisdom and power. Fortunately that vermin has been snuffed out, and with the changes the Empire has underwent these last years, this technique, like many other things, falls under a grey area. This is good, for while I have plenty of time to begin from scratch, I habour no intention of doing so; everything I have is earned, and I have work to do. No indeed, the galaxy will come to recognize this visage as Darth Iradox, and they shall be free to seethe with suspecision, fear or jealousy. Some might be foolish enough to move against me – an excuse to queench my thrist, I suppose. But I do not suspect these surcidal imbeciles to be numerous; my own reputation and power base should prove sufficient to give most pause, and if not, the support of my allies surely will. You, listener, take that to heart if nothing else; always consider all facets of a situation before acting, provided you are afforded the luxury of doing so.
How did I come by this well-kept secret? How astute of you to try and make me reveal an alternative source of acquiring this knowledge. I will say this though: Through my decades as a pureblooded Sith, I encoutered references to it on multiple occasions: First time was on Alderaan while I yet counted myself part of the False Prophet's cult. A mentally disturbed Sith lord named Maeve posed the question of whether I would consider a body swapped pureblood pure. Such nonsesense... The second time was when I faced the late Darth Siqsa, whom at the end of our confrontation attempted to claim my body for his own. Then there was my first meeting with Darth Saizen, a recording of which you will find in this holocron under the topic Combating Dark Side Degradation. However, neither of these encounters taught me the technique, and aside from the now deceased Darth Siqsa, I do not believe any of them actually mastered it. Indeed they were refering to a myth; a legend of immortality. In fact, it was by chance that I came across one who had successfully performed the ritual. He had adopted a new identity and concealed his presence well, but not well enough to hide from me. I will reveal that his original name was Lord Zenroth, because I doubt you will ever be able to find him - indeed feel free to waste your life on trying. But upon realizing what he had archived, I ripped the secret from his mind. Not just the theoritical knowledge mind you, but the experience and impressions as well. From there I initiated an active search for more information on the topic, and found some in the private library of the now deceased Darth Tyranna, which she entrusted to me as a means of solidfying our alliance.
On the topic of my new vessel, I must admit to thoroughly enjoying it. Just last night I fought an Echani in hand-to-hand combat without the aid of the Force, a feat my old husk would never have proven capable of. Indeed I had become totally reliant on the Force towards the end, an experience that I never wish to repeat. Then of course there is the Anzat hunger; the craving for the substance they describe as soup or the Sea of Memories, from what I have been able to gather. So far I have feed approximately a dozen times since the switch, and I admit to having thoroughly enjoyed each experience: When I feed, I am flooded with the emotions and memories from my victim, indeed I experience an intimate connection in that last moment before the end. It sparks within me a primal sense of euphoria that borders on the errotic. And yet it is different from that; it is more...
The Anzat hunger is very different from my instinctive urge to siphon life energy from others. Indeed that craving can be subdued so that it lies dormant until brought to the forefront. Only when you form that invisible bond with your victim and the crimson veins of their life energy pulses into your palm, you feel the hunger grow with each beat, and if your victim dies the hunger will only want me. It is a black hole; a wound within your Force presence that can never be filled. In contrast the Anzat hunger will make its presence known after a time, similar to regular hunger. When it does, you will start noticing the beating hearts within your proximity, pared with the potency of their Force presences. Only when you have feed, this craving is sated for a time. In that regard, the Anzat hunger is easier to control, if perhaps more adictive in the long run. I do not mind though; I find that I enjoy the thrill of it.
That is essential too, you know: Thrill; joy; excitment. These are things I never attributed much value in my old life. In fact I was quite miserable, and if not for the constant sense of duty and occasional rush of power, I might very well have decided to end my miserable existance; indeed the thought of suicide was not foreign to me. Does this surprise you? That ‘the great Darth Iradox’ once played with the thought of ending his own life? It ought not to really, given the amount of hardship one must go through to become a truly powerful Sith lord. Indeed I believe we are all broken to some extend, and when brought low we contemplate the possibility of ending it, even if we do not allow ourselves to admit it; Peace is a lie, after all.
Why am I bringing this up though? Good question, because chances are that I have gone on for so long that you have stopped listening. Or perhaps I am simply that captivating? Regardless it matters not, for understand that I am recording this primarily for my own sake; to voice my thoughts and put them in order.
So why this chatter about suicide? Because I believe it is essential to me. Understand, I am neither Anzat nor pureblood; I am the spirit of a pureblood in an Anzat body; I am something else. Most importantly, I am the pysche of a short-lived species in the body of a long-lived one. Have you never asked yourself why the long-lived species do not rule the galaxy? Indeed why did Darth Terros with all his centuries not become one of the most powerful entities the galaxy has ever known? I think the answer lies in the pysche; in how long-lived species are less driven to archive and develop due the extensive duration of their lifespan. If this is true, it means I might archive great things in the millennium at my disposal, but it also means that my pysche may prove incapable of handling such longevity. Thus suicide becomes an unavoidable topic, because I need to take measures to prevent it in the long run. I do not wish to die; I have walked in the Lake of Apparition and wittnessed what awaits on the other side. To hell with that...
Alas, I think my meaning is plain: Those fickle positive emotions become important for the sake of longevity. And now I have grown tired of my own timbre. This was all, be gone; find something useful to occupy your time with.