The Dawn's Eagle, its mass significantly increased by added armor and weaponry, cut through hyperspace, counting down the light-years of the final jump to the long-lost capital of Vitiate's Empire.
The stable hyperspace route to Dromund Kaas, it turned out, had self-destructed centuries ago, which was why the journey to the forgotten world took nearly two weeks.
The entire time, Revan prepared his apprentices and crew for what might await them on a world saturated with the Dark side of the Force.
Maul was the least of his concerns. The Zabrak possessed an innate affinity for the Dark side and, much like the ancient pureblood Sith, was perfectly able to endure the crushing pressure of the Shadow.
Anakin, on the contrary, was quite sensitive to the temptations of that side of the Great Force the Sith preached. Inexperience and an unstable psyche made him extremely vulnerable. For this reason, the boy spent both weeks in meditation under the strict supervision of Revan or Maul, striving to find inner peace and learn to channel the Force's energy through himself without allowing it to seize control of his body.
At first, the results were extremely poor. The slightest surge of Dark side energy from his Master or the Zabrak would throw the boy out of balance, causing his consciousness to frantically oscillate between Light and Dark. The whirlwind of emotions that simultaneously overwhelmed the youth threatened to lead to an inevitable fall into the abyss of madness, which Revan absolutely wanted to avoid.
Revan patiently watched Anakin and his internal struggles, offering guidance and discerning all the nuances of the boy's sensations. Together, they managed to find an anchor for Skywalker to concentrate on, allowing the intrusive mental fog to dissipate, leaving behind only the pure energy of the Force. The anchor was Padmé. Revan merely smirked at the coincidence. Both he and his apprentice had chosen the woman they loved as their focus. Though Anakin's love was childishly naive, and quite possibly unrequited—his youth alone placed a barrier on even attempting to convey his feelings to the current Queen of Naboo—the feeling was no less deep or pure.
Love... Revan had long considered that this emotion was one of the feelings that represented the quintessence of the Force's balance. Love could make one the happiest being alive, or it could crush and cast one down into the depths of hell. It united passion and tenderness, anger and care, and a hundred other emotional reactions that could shift in an instant. It was difficult to keep such a feeling under control, almost as impossible as fully dominating the Force itself.
But domination wasn't the goal. Neither the Jedi nor the Sith attempted it. Both factions built their teachings on the ability to interact with the Great Force's energy, allowing it to penetrate their bodies and souls without permitting it to seize complete control. The Sith used emotions to direct the Force into a desired channel, while keeping their minds on the brink of clarity. The Jedi, however, feared succumbing to temptation, lamenting the inherent weakness of a sentient being's nature, which naturally seeks the gratification of its desires and needs.
The approach of the Knights of the Light was not compatible with Anakin. His impulsiveness negated the tranquility preached by the Jedi. But the boy also couldn't keep from losing control by using fear or anger, as the Sith did. Revan proposed using love as the emotion that would guide the Force's energy but prevent Skywalker's consciousness from clouding. And it worked.
The apprentice reacted more calmly to the Dark side's energy and its tempting whisper at the edge of his mind—a whisper his Master expertly projected. Soon, Anakin no longer required Revan's constant presence during meditation to calm himself and attempt to interact with the Force. Revan hoped that the training would be enough to prepare his apprentice for what was coming.
Revan himself clearly remembered his own sensations from his time on Dromund Kaas. This world, hostile even to its own fauna, sought to crush anyone who dared to set foot on its surface. It was no surprise the pureblood Sith thrived here. Their very essence was steeped in darkness, and their history was an endless chain of conflict and dark rituals.
Rituals…
Revan knew the dreadful means by which Vitiate achieved his boundless power and immortality. The cause was an abominable and unforgivable Dark side Ritual performed on the future Emperor's homeworld. Vitiate annihilated an entire world, destroying millions of lives and hundreds of the most powerful Dark side adepts from among his own people. In return, he gained eternal life and a power that was difficult to imagine. The sheer volume of Force energy the Emperor could channel through himself seemed unbelievable. In his time, Revan paid a steep price for his reckless attempt to redirect one of Vitiate's Force lightning attacks. A trick that had worked more than once against a powerful opponent proved useless in a fight against the Emperor. Revan simply could not filter that amount of energy through his body.
But the Emperor could.
Vitiate's talent and relentless ambition could not fail to evoke respect from the former Jedi. However, that feeling paled in comparison to the hatred Revan felt for the being who condemned him to three hundred years of imprisonment… and deprived him of the chance to see his family again, to embrace Bastila… and hold his son…
And this creature possessed immortality.
Immortality…
Dark side rituals and Sith alchemy allowed the Emperor to achieve what was considered impossible. And this led Revan to certain thoughts. Thoughts he himself feared.
If Vitiate could attain eternal life… could the same knowledge… bring a person back from the dead?
Revan's gaze shifted to the holocron resting on the table in the captain's cabin. How far was he willing to go to bring Bastila back?
"Everything," was the thought that flashed, which the former Jedi dismissed, saying aloud only: "A great deal."
As if responding to his words, or more likely sensing Revan's touch through the Force, the holocron activated, creating a miniature hologram of the woman who had passed from this world.
"What troubles you, my love?" Bastila's tender voice made Revan's heart clench, then burst into a joyful rhythm, forcing the former Sith to smile through rising tears.
"Nothing, my dear," Revan assured the hologram. "I'm fine."
Bastila frowned.
"Please, do not lie to me," she said demandingly. "Though I am not entirely the woman who once agreed to be your wife, I know you well, Revan. So, if only in memory of the true Bastila, please trust me and tell me what troubles you?"
Revan offered a subtle smile, catching the familiar note of irritation in that beloved voice. It was the same way she had asked him to share the nightmares about his past that plagued him at night. He had told her everything then… he would tell her now.
"I miss you," Revan replied sadly.
The hologram smiled warmly, understanding the feelings of the one its creator had loved. The miniature Bastila wanted to offer some support but struggled to find the words. After all, the imprint of her consciousness was only a distant echo of the personality from which it was derived.
"And I don't want to let you go," Revan added.
There was durasteel resolve in the former Jedi's voice. Only someone who had cast off all doubt could speak like that. Someone who still had hope and was willing to fight for it until the very end. Whatever the cost.
Something in the man's gaze caused a flicker of alarm in the holocron's guardian, but she did not have time to say anything else.
Revan closed the holocron and, filled with certainty in the correctness of his decision, left the cabin.
Now there was one more reason to visit Dromund Kaas.
According to HK, who was occupying the pilot's seat, there were only a few hours left before the exit from hyperspace, and all the occupants of the Eagle gathered in the mess hall.
"My Lord, we will arrive soon," Maul asked or stated, barely concealing his excitement.
The Zabrak felt a sense of reverence, anticipating a visit to the lost Sith Empire's capital. Clearly, in his attempts to maintain sanity during the brutal training under Sidious, Maul had embraced the teachings and philosophy of the Sith too closely, making it practically the center of his inner world.
'Well,' Revan thought, 'if it keeps him from falling into the depths of madness by completely surrendering to rage and the Darkness, then why not?'
"Yes, apprentice," Revan nodded, confirming the fact of their imminent arrival at Dromund Kaas.
"Awesome!" Anakin exclaimed impatiently.
"You will remain on the ship under HK's watch," Revan cut in.
"What?!" the boy protested. "But that's not fair! I want to see it too!"
"We are not traveling to admire the sights," his Master interrupted the apprentice. "The world we are going to is extremely dangerous. Even in my time, when it was the capital and patrolled by well-trained troops, people died by the hundreds of thousands every day. This planet is soaked in blood, pain, and suffering. You are not ready for that yet. You'll feel it yourself as soon as we reach orbit."
"But I'm not a child anymore!"
"Age has nothing to do with it. Why do you think we've been training you this whole trip?"
"To take me with you?"
"No, to keep you from going mad the moment we exit hyperspace. You barely cope with what Maul or I give you in training. The power of an entire planet is beyond you right now, and you can't yet shut yourself off from the Force."
"I…" the boy lowered his head and exhaled in disappointment, "I understand, Master."
Revan had no doubt that Skywalker was not truly reconciled to the situation. The boy lacked experience in deception, especially for someone Force-sensitive. Even without sensing Anakin's emotions, his Master understood perfectly what was going on in the apprentice's soul.
"HK, you are responsible for his core," Revan said strictly, addressing the assassin droid.
"Doomed Agreement: Yes, Master," the droid replied glumly.
The prospect of becoming a babysitter again held no joy. The last time hadn't ended well, and the mechanical assassin certainly didn't want to disappoint his Master. The only positive was the openly frightened look on the small meatbag's face.
"Do not leave the ship," Revan commanded. "If I don't appear on board and make contact within a standard day, fly to Coruscant."
"Willing Affirmation: Understood, Master."
"What about me and the horn-head?" Nomad inquired, still displeased that Revan was delaying his part of the agreement.
"You are coming with me," the former Jedi nodded.
"Are we expecting trouble?" The mercenary instinctively placed a hand on her blaster's grip.
"It's Dromund Kaas," Revan shrugged. "The only surprise here would be its absence."
Tira tapped a few buttons on her left gauntlet and evidently checked some information on her armor's visor screen.
"Then I'll reload the flamethrower and grab more grenades. We might be expected by those… what are they? Sith?"
"It's quite possible," Revan agreed.
"Then my blasters won't be much use, I need something high-rate-of-fire," the Mandalorian mused. "I'm heading to the armory."
Revan already knew that the Eagle now contained a fully equipped armory with the necessary tools for repairing and assembling weapons and armor. HK had proudly shown the new compartment to his Master. On the downside: the ship lost its port aft cargo bay. On the upside: the Eagle is far from a freighter.
Watching the mercenary leave, Revan continued giving instructions.
The astromech droid R2-D2, who had been restlessly swiveling his dome-shaped head, also received a task. He would travel to the planet's surface with the landing party. Revan might need a capable slicer, as he planned, if luck allowed, to locate and copy the Citadel's archives. T3-M4 had been very helpful to him once, and the former Jedi counted on the assistance of that brave astromech's more advanced counterpart.
The rest of the journey flew by. By the time they exited hyperspace, everyone was ready.
Revan, along with HK and Anakin, was in the cockpit, awaiting the end of the journey. In his hands, he held his Mandalorian mask, which had become his second face during the years of the war. However, the closer the ship approached Dromund Kaas, the more clearly memories resurfaced.
Revan raised the mask to eye level and stared intently into the T-shaped visor. He unconsciously rubbed non-existent scars in the places where the mask had literally fused to his skin after Vitiate's attack.
Shaking off the troubling memories, Revan began his ritual, which he performed before every battle during the Mandalorian Wars.
Mentally quoting the Jedi Order's Code, the former Republic general calmed himself with every word spoken. His breathing became steadier; the streams of the Force slowed and enveloped their adept, strengthening his body and providing comfort.
But as the hyperdrive's illumination gave way to the blackness of space, the Force literally trembled around them. The aura of Darkness surrounding the planet could be felt even from hundreds of thousands of kilometers away.
It was as if a torrent of icy air burst into the cabin, causing the former Sith to offer a faint smile. After all, the Darkness was gentle to its followers, luring them to the absolute bottom with temptations and effortless power.
Anakin, however, was shivering slightly, as if he had been plunged into an ice-cold pool. The boy was afraid, which only attracted the Dark side. Only the small fragments of Force-handling experience gained from his Master's training kept Skywalker from panic and the temptation to dive into the welcoming embrace of the Darkness. The Force was right there; all he had to do was reach out his hand, and he wouldn't have to be afraid anymore. Why fear when one can inspire fear oneself?
Revan took a deep breath and, with an effort of will, subdued the flows of the Force around them, slightly easing the task for his apprentice.
"Breathe deeper, Anakin, and remember, you are safe," his Master reminded him.
"Y-yes, Master," the boy nodded.
"HK, you are responsible for him."
"Assurance: I will not fail, Master."
"Good. Land us close to the Citadel in Kaas City."
The droid readily began correcting the course, starting the descent from high orbit over the former Imperial capital.
Giving a final nod, Revan left the cockpit and headed for the cargo ramp, through which the group would exit the ship.
Maul, Tira, and R2 were already waiting in the starboard cargo bay. On Revan's advice, the Zabrak wore light mesh armor with duraplast inserts that barely restricted his movement. It was far better than the rags his previous master gave him. Nomad remained true to herself. And what could be better for a Mandalorian than Mandalorian armor?
"Is everyone ready?" Revan asked the routine question.
"Yes, My Lord," Maul answered.
Tira merely nodded.
Securing the mask in its proper place, Revan turned to the ramp. The ship had just stopped shuddering, which indicated a successful atmospheric entry.
The Eagle banked sharply several times, laying down tight turns, obviously avoiding the dangerous lightning that raged tirelessly in the planet's atmosphere. But finally, even with active inertia dampeners, Revan and the team felt HK begin the braking maneuver. The surface was close.
A soft thud announced a successful landing.
Tira sighed in relief. After all, her life aboard the ship was in the hands of the pilot. And she had already learned that anything could be expected from HK.
Maul, however, was practically vibrating with impatience, gripping the hilt of his lightsaber until his knuckles cracked.
"HK, lower the ramp," Revan ordered over the intercom.
A moment later, the wide door of the cargo bay opened its maw, softly settling onto the mossy soil of Dromund Kaas.
The warm, humid air of the swampy planet rushed inside, heavy with the smell of algae and decaying water plants. Nomad habitually closed off the helmet's air intakes, routing the air through her armor's filtration system. The filter's resource was limited, but it should be enough for a couple of days in the hostile environment.
There were no dangerous substances or microorganisms in the air, or HK would have alerted them. The Mandalorian's maneuver was purely for comfort. Revan and Maul relied on Force-based breath control techniques.
Kaas City.
Once a beautiful and vibrant city, it lay in ruins, which the local flora had been systematically reclaiming for centuries. The paved streets were almost entirely hidden beneath a layer of soil, and the remains of buildings were covered in thick vegetation.
Only the black, broken-off tower of the Dark Council Citadel was still clearly discernible against the backdrop of the deserted city. On the part visible from the landing site, one could even make out Vitiate's Empire's emblem carved into the stonework.
Revan suppressed the urge to curse and, signaling the group to follow him, was the first to step onto the surface of Dromund Kaas.
The group followed their leader's example. The astromech droid let out a displeased whistle, apparently complaining about the stickiness of the surface he had to navigate. The mossy covering of the swampy planet was not the best terrain for a droid's motorized roller feet.
"Don't complain, R2," Revan waved off. "We'll do a full technical inspection of your locomotion upon our return."
The astromech chirped and rolled forward much faster.
Contrary to expectations, the pressure of the Force was significantly weaker than the former Sith had assumed. Evidently, without the constant presence of the Dark Council and the Emperor, the raging storm of the Dark side had begun to calm, yet it still concealed the planet in the Force from outside attention. A Jedi would be hard-pressed to intentionally find the way here.
Revan involuntarily remembered his recent dream and the feeling of helplessness that gripped him in that hallucination. Thank the Great Force, it was only a simple nightmare.
Shaking off the dark thoughts, Revan tried to focus and sense any foreign presence. At first glance, apart from a couple of predators whose hunt was interrupted by the landing of the Dawn's Eagle, there was no one around for several kilometers. Something, however, felt off. The Force's response was indistinct, as if someone was trying to point something out to Revan, but through a murky pane of glass. And the former Jedi recalled similar sensations he had when training his assassins.
Force Concealment allowed an object to disappear from view, making it invisible even to technology.
Undoubtedly, this was it.
This meant someone was indeed living on this desolate planet.
"We are not alone here," Revan quietly informed his companions.
The mercenary nodded curtly and lowered the targeting visor stalk on her helmet. Maul shifted his staff so that the activation button was directly under his fingers.
"I don't feel any foreign presence, My Lord," the Zabrak replied just as quietly. "Although… something strange is emanating from the Citadel."
"Remember that sensation; that is how Force-sensitives can conceal themselves."
"Assassins?"
"Not impossible."
Maul nodded, a sign that he took the danger seriously and would be ready for anything.
"Scanners show only a couple of four-legged curs," Tira reported. "But I wouldn't trust the readings. Too much interference. It's still a technological world, even if it's abandoned."
R2 let out a trill in binary, confirming the Mandalorian's words. His sensor array was also yielding conflicting readings.
"We move towards the Citadel tower," Revan directed. "Maintain vigilance."
"Don't teach a Mandalorian how to track a shyrack," Nomad snorted, pulling a pair of miniature spherical drones from a pouch and releasing them into the air.
Revan couldn't identify the model, but Maul apparently could.
"Are those TMD-77-S?" the Zabrak asked. "I used them on a couple of missions."
"They are," the Mandalorian reluctantly agreed.
"Good scout drones. Their range is short, but they don't draw attention."
Nomad paused for a second, looking as if she was staring at Maul's face, but her gaze was actually directed slightly to the left of the Zabrak's head.
The mercenary sharply raised her blaster and fired.
Maul's lightsaber staff was already halfway to the girl's neck when it collided with his Master's silver blade. The strike had been instinctive, and after receiving a gentle push of the Force to the back of the head, Maul immediately suppressed his flare of anger and deactivated his weapon.
"She…"
Revan didn't let his apprentice finish, pointing the tip of his lightsaber somewhere behind the Zabrak.
Maul turned around. A step from where he had been standing seconds ago lay the dead carcass of some kind of lizard.
Guessing what had happened, the Zabrak turned back to the mercenary and nodded curtly, simultaneously apologizing and expressing gratitude.
"Don't get distracted, horn-head," Tira tossed out, a hint of mockery in her voice. "And don't get jumpy."
"I didn't feel the threat," Maul grumbled.
"No surprise," Revan shrugged, deactivating his blade. "That was just an ysalamiri, a local species of harmless amphibians. They have a natural ability to conceal their presence by creating Force-neutral zones. It's a defense mechanism against vornskrs."
"Against what?" Nomad asked.
"A vornskr, it's a four-legged creature with a spiked tail, similar to a hound. It hunts using the Force."
"What a lovely planet." It seemed to Revan that even through her helmet visor, he could see Tira rolling her eyes. "Even the animals here are Force-sensitive."
"When a world is so saturated with the Force, living creatures will adapt to it sooner or later. Regardless of whether they are sentient or not."
"Fantastic," the mercenary snorted.
The astromech droid rolled up to the animal's carcass and cautiously poked it with its shock prod.
"Let's go; we shouldn't linger in one place for long. Blood will attract predators." Revan again commanded them to continue moving. "R2, leave the ysalamiri alone."
As they advanced deeper into the city, the former Jedi increasingly wondered how quickly the Sith had abandoned the planet. What had happened? Was it a gradual exodus caused by the collapse of the government? A natural process of degeneration and extinction? Or a decisive strike by a victor determined to deal with the enemy once and for all?
Expectedly, there was no information about this on the HoloNet. The Jedi Temple archives were also empty. More precisely, the section accessible to apprentices was empty. Everything concerning the Dark side was stored separately by the Order to prevent a harmful influence on the unformed minds of younglings and Padawans. Revan honestly considered this to be foolishness. After all, how can one prepare to meet something about which they are not told? The Masters' scary stories didn't count. They contained only fear and not a shred of truth.
"Couldn't you find a closer landing site?" Tira grumbled with irritation, clambering over another pile of rubble.
The astromech droid, which had chosen the spot with the navigational computer, attempted to answer the question. However, few people knew binary language. Tira might have been one of those who bothered to learn it, but she didn't let on, only occasionally nodding unconsciously to the droid's trills slightly before seeing or hearing the translation.
"A safe one? No," Revan replied, leading the group and translating R2's beeps and whistles. "We are close now."
Indeed, the tower was only a short distance away, about ten minutes' walk.
And suddenly, the former Sith felt a strong disturbance in the Force, signaling an approaching danger. Concentrating, Revan was able to detect a large cluster of living creatures approaching the group from the east.
The mercenary and the Zabrak, noticing their leader falter, immediately became alert and prepared for possible trouble.
"My Lord?" Maul called tentatively.
"To the Citadel! Run!" Revan commanded, assessing the number of potential opponents.
A pack of over thirty individuals was moving toward them. Too many for vornskrs or vine cats. And the speed was considerable, suggesting the ability to fly.
"What's wrong?" Nomad asked while running.
R2, understanding that his chassis was not suited for sprinting, activated his miniature thrusters, soaring into the air.
"It looks like a flock of Mailocs," the former Jedi replied.
"A big one?"
"Bigger than necessary," Revan answered dryly.
The astromech droid chirped, vocalizing its sensor readings. The little one had detected nearly four dozen living creatures.
"Bantha poodoo, I see them." The mercenary checked the information received from her drones. "Go! Go!"
There were no more questions. No one suggested taking a stand, as even the most experienced warriors tried to avoid encounters with a pack of predators.
Mailocs (not to be confused with mynocks/minocks) were found on many planets and were therefore widely known. They were yellow-brown winged creatures with flexible spiked tails, capable of piercing the armor of light vehicles or disrupting the functioning of an energy shield. Hesitate, and there would be no second chance.
Already on the rubble-strewn steps, the group heard a piercing shriek behind them.
"Hutt! Faster!" Revan commanded, lifting pieces of stone and warped durasteel sheeting with telekinesis that blocked the entrance to the Citadel. "Maul, help!"
The Zabrak was not as skilled in telekinesis but tried his utmost.
Nomad, however, turned to the attackers and, with a short burst from her rapid-fire carbine, took down one of the approaching creatures. Then another. But the sight of three more dozen winged monstrosities blotting out the sky sent an unpleasant chill down her spine.
"Hurry up!" she yelled, waiting until the Mailocs came within effective range.
The creatures were getting closer, which made the mercenary increasingly nervous. She wouldn't be able to shoot them all down. Mailocs weren't so stupid as to charge head-on in a straight line. No, these winged monsters scattered in different directions, distracting the victim, and then attacked from various angles, trying to knock them off their feet. Dealing with all of them would be difficult even for a Mandalorian.
And just as the girl prepared to open fire, she felt something yank her belt, lifting her off the surface and pulling her backward toward the tower entrance.
Nomad barely managed to recall her drones before she landed on the floor of the rubble-choked hall, and Revan and Maul were already closing the outside passage with improvised materials.
"Well, you certainly took your time…" Tira hissed, getting to her feet.
R2-D2 whirred strenuously past, dragging a piece of durasteel flooring with his retractable manipulator.
"Size and weight do not matter to the Force, of course," Revan replied in a strained voice, "but they require considerable concentration."
Maul, in fact, was panting, moving the debris with concentration, not even pausing to wipe the sweat from his face.
"Ha, I was starting to think your Force knew no limits. So many legends go around the galaxy about all-powerful Jedi," the mercenary chuckled, reloading her weapon.
"Well, even the best shot needs time to aim, no?" Revan countered. "The principle is the same here. It's not enough just to will a boulder to move. You must direct the Force in the right direction and clearly specify what needs to be done. Otherwise, you could lift the stone from the ground or crush it into dust… along with the whole planet."
Revan exaggerated slightly, but it served as an example. And few people had the patience to reach such heights in terms of control.
Nomad nodded thoughtfully.
"R2, illuminate," the former Jedi requested.
The hall had become quite dark once the exit was barricaded.
The droid immediately complied, activating all the lighting devices it possessed. A beam of light carved a pile of rubble out of the darkness at the arched doorway through which the group had entered the tower.
"Well, we won't be getting out of here quickly now," Nomad stated, activating the lamp on her armor.
"You can always blow the walls up," Revan reassured the mercenary, and she nodded thoughtfully in response.
"What is the next move, My Lord?" Maul inquired. "I can't seem to sense my surroundings. It's as if they are trying to conceal the tower itself."
"Not the tower, but who is inside," Revan clarified.
He too could not shake the feeling that someone was nearby but remained hidden. Not directly in this hall, or else the former Sith would have noticed the outsider even through a cloaking technique.
"Nevertheless, the horn-head asked a good question," Nomad spoke up. "Where to now?"
Revan would have been glad to answer, but he struggled to recall. His memories were fragmented. During his last visit, he and Meetra had entered from a landing pad on the twentieth level. Where to go from this entrance was a mystery.
"R2, check the service terminals, maybe there's still power?" the squad leader suggested.
"Do you really think anything here could still be working?" Tira asked skeptically, pointing to the moss on the floor and walls.
"One should not underestimate the technology of the Sith or other Force adepts," Revan said thoughtfully. "I have seen artifacts that functioned after millennia."
At that moment, the astromech droid, which had rolled up to one of the wall terminals, let out a disappointed chirp, indicating a lack of power in the network.
"Well, it seems the generators don't belong to those wondrous artifacts, then," Tira chuckled.
"Evidently," Revan was forced to concede.
A flash of light drew the attention of the entire group, making them turn to the source. Revan and Maul reacted slightly earlier, as both felt a surge in the Force.
In the far archway, a faint light shimmered, like the tremor of an open flame.
The group slowly approached. With a gesture, Revan ordered R2 to stay put so the whirring of his servomotors wouldn't interfere with hearing a threat, or, conversely, give away their approach to a potential enemy.
Beyond the arch was a long corridor, leading upwards at an angle. Aside from the wreckage of broken statues of ancient Lords and a couple of faded frescoes, there was nothing else in the corridor.
"Torches?" Tira asked in surprise, unable to believe her eyes.
Indeed, on the walls, a few miraculously preserved torches were burning, alight with real fire.
"Torches," Revan agreed. "The Sith always loved mystical trappings."
"And someone lit them," Maul stated the obvious.
Everyone agreed with this conclusion.
"We are being invited in," Revan noted.
"Or lured into a trap," Tira added.
"For the Sith, it's often the same thing," the ancient Force adept shrugged. "Let's go. R2, follow us, but be quiet."
As the squad advanced, more torches flared to life, indicating a route for the group, preventing them from getting lost in the maze of passages. Or perhaps, conversely, confusing their exit.
"I hope someone is marking our path?" Revan inquired after ten minutes of wandering through corridors and once-ornate halls.
"Of course," Nomad replied.
The astromech droid affirmed it only a moment later.
"Good. Let's keep moving."
The group strained all their senses and used all available equipment to avoid missing the moment an opponent appeared. And everything was clear.
Because of this, the appearance of a figure wrapped in a cowl was a complete surprise. Neither Maul nor Revan sensed its approach. It seemed to materialize out of the air right in front of the squad, causing everyone to raise their weapons.
The figure exuded the Dark side, but there was no sense of a living being's presence…
"Who…" Tira didn't have time to ask the question before the hooded figure spoke.
A commanding female voice with a slight, aged rasp filled the Citadel's corridors.
"You thought defeating me would be as easy as Xedrix?"
The group tensed, preparing for a fight. Maul was already in a combat stance with his blade activated. Nomad and R2 aimed their weapons.
Only Revan stood, gripping his deactivated lightsaber hilt. He recognized that voice! That foul, arrogant tone of the accursed red-skinned crone.
"My Lord?" Maul called to his Master, noticing how he froze.
"Look upon me, I am your ruin!" the hooded figure continued, slowly advancing on Revan. "I am Darth Nyriss, Dark Lord of the Sith! I captured Drezzi, annihilated Melldia! I sit upon the Dark Council!
Tira fired, but the blaster bolt simply passed through the hood, causing the unknown figure no damage whatsoever.
"What the Hutt!" the mercenary growled, firing again, but with the same result.
Maul waited, trembling with impatience, but dared not attack, awaiting his Lord's command.
"Revan!" Tira called out, realizing the futility of her attacks. "Do something."
Revan, who had been motionless until now, slowly turned his head toward the mercenary. The encounter with the ghost of the past stirred up some unpleasant memories. However, almost immediately, the former Sith realized that he was not facing a living being, nor even a Force ghost. Only a trick of the Dark side, the kind one could encounter in places with a high concentration of Darkness, such as the tombs and caves of Korriban.
"Away, shade," Revan commanded with a firm voice and waved his hand, directing a short pulse of the Force.
The figure, which once belonged to the powerful Darth Nyriss, began to visibly melt away, dissolving into the shadows.
"Watch him closely. He is mighty and very dangerous," the crone's nearly inaudible whisper sounded out one last time.
The group did not move for several seconds, processing what had happened.
"And what was that?" Nomad was the first to break the silence.
"A Force ghost?" Maul offered a guess, poorly concealing the awe and veneration in his voice.
The Zabrak had read much about powerful Sith who remained in the world of the living even after death, albeit in the form of a ghost.
"No," Revan countered, bringing his daydreaming apprentice back to earth. "That was not a ghost. Merely a phantom, an echo of the past imprinted by the Dark side."
"And whose phantom was it?" Tira asked. "You clearly recognized her."
"That was Darth Nyriss," the former Jedi replied. "From my last encounter with her."
"You killed her?"
"Yes," Revan nodded.
"A member of the Dark Council?" Maul asked, stunned.
Another nod.
"We shouldn't linger. Be vigilant; there may be others ahead. And I am not certain they will all prove to be as harmless."
As Revan had speculated, they were being led directly to the Emperor's Throne Room. Very soon, the former Jedi felt a sense of déjà vu, recognizing the corridors the group was traversing. They seemed just as bright, pompous, and filled with sinister beauty. Statues of Sith Lords, frescoes depicting the Empire's formation, the flight from Korriban, and the rebirth on the galaxy's edge. Even the tapestries were in place.
However, shaking his head and clearing the illusion, Revan was able to regain clarity of thought. The corridors were as empty as the rest of the Citadel.
The tension continued to mount. The pressure of the Dark side, coupled with the sense of danger, was throwing everyone off balance. Maul was practically growling instead of speaking coherent phrases, which was an alarming sign.
The former Jedi himself successfully maintained clarity of mind, balancing between the Light and the Dark, allowing the Force to flow freely through his body.
"Assassins! Destroy them all!" A squad rounded the corner and charged the group, which Revan recognized as the Emperor's Guards led by Captain Yarri.
Maul lunged forward with fury, intent on tearing apart the illusory squad. When he realized that all his strikes passed harmlessly through the targets, the Zabrak spun around to face his Master and the Mandalorian.
Only madness shone in Maul's bright yellow eyes. Revan immediately understood that his apprentice was not himself. He had let the Darkness in too deeply, succumbing to the environment.
"Hey, horn-head, what are you doing?" The mercenary aimed her blaster at the Zabrak, seeing him prepare to charge.
His Master anticipated the apprentice by only a moment but managed to intercept Maul's attack just in time, simultaneously blocking Nomad's line of fire.
Catching the Zabrak at the very beginning of his movement, Revan easily knocked him off balance and delivered several precise strikes with the hilt of his saber, sending his protégé into unconsciousness.
"What the hell?" Nomad aimed her carbine at Revan.
"The Force," the man replied over his shoulder, trying not to provoke the mercenary. "It presses heavily on the mind. Maul couldn't cope."
"And you?"
"I'm fine. I have far more experience," Revan replied, smiling sadly.
Tira lowered her weapon.
"We shouldn't have come here," she suddenly said. "This is a bad place. Even I feel uneasy."
"The concentration of the Force here is such that even the non-sensitive find it difficult," Revan confirmed. "But unlike us, you don't feel it as acutely."
"Hooray for lucky me," Nomad hissed sarcastically. "What next?"
"Look after him," Revan replied after a moment's thought. "Can you get him outside?"
"He's no feather, but yes, I can. But are you sure splitting up is a good idea?" the Mandalorian replied doubtfully. "After all, we've all seen the phantoms. And if the horn-head wakes up, I won't be as gentle in calming him down. He'll get a blaster bolt to the head."
The thought was sound, but proceeding with a wounded man in tow was also dangerous. The unknown awaited ahead… or rather, someone strong enough to lure Revan here from the other side of the galaxy, and quite likely hostile, was waiting ahead.
Still, they were almost at their destination. There was only one path left.
"Then wait here," Revan offered. "Only the Throne Room is ahead."
"Going alone?"
"I won't be able to spare my attention to protect you."
"I don't need your protection," Nomad snorted.
"Have you fought a Sith before? They are not Jedi, who will spare you until the very last moment and only attack with full force when they have no choice. Nor are they a fallen one, who attacks like a mindless animal. A Sith is a cold and calculated monster trapped in a sentient body. They are unconstrained by morality, honor, or pity. He will not play with you, as I did on Tatooine."
Tira swallowed almost imperceptibly, affected by Revan's sharp rebuke, which was reinforced by a subtle application of the Force.
The former Jedi truly wanted to proceed alone. Tira was still too young and inexperienced. If Canderous were in her place, Revan wouldn't have hesitated. But to bring along… a hindrance? And to be distracted during a fight?
That was precisely what doomed Meetra! She protected Revan, dropping her own weapon. And opened her back to the traitor's strike.
"I understand you," the mercenary finally relented. "This isn't my fight… Hutt… It sucks to admit my helplessness…"
"We are all helpless in some way."
Revan turned toward the Throne Room doors.
"Be careful," Nomad suddenly whispered, barely audible.
"Always," the man replied just as quietly, without turning around.
He didn't even need to use telekinesis. The doors of the Throne Room opened on their own as soon as Revan took a step toward them.
It was almost impossible to make out the Throne Room without passing through the doorway. It was as if the light itself dimmed, failing to penetrate inside. The gloom that reigned in the Emperor's seat of power concealed a great deal from curious eyes.
Calling upon the Force once more, Revan stepped resolutely into the heart of the Empire.
The Throne Room hadn't changed at all. Darkness reigned everywhere, broken only by rare light panels that still, by some miracle, shone dimly. A high vaulted ceiling, columns around the perimeter, and a black throne on a pedestal, surrounded by swirling mist.
It seemed that at any moment the throne would turn, and Vitiate himself would rise from it, to once again fight Revan in a bid to exact revenge for the brazen attempt to overthrow him.
Revan flinched when the chair on the pedestal did, in fact, move. The former Jedi tightened his grip on the hilts of his sabers, preparing for any outcome.
But he was unprepared for this one.
It was not the emaciated figure of the Emperor in a black, seemingly dark-side-infused robe who rose from the throne. No…
Seated on the throne was a girl in snow-white robes. Short-cropped chestnut hair, blue eyes that sparkled slightly with a smile.
Revan opened his mouth, gazing in astonishment at the face of a long-lost friend and his most devoted ally, aside from his dear Bastila. Rising from the throne was Meetra Surik! The girl who, even as a Padawan, had followed Revan and Alek to war. The one who became the most trusted General of the Republic Army after Alek himself. The one who saved him three times… and did not abandon him even after death. His closest and most loyal friend. His apprentice…
"Meetra?" Revan called out.
The girl smiled and wanted to reply…
But she didn't get the chance…
A scarlet blade emerged from her chest! Exactly as it had that day!
"No!" Revan managed to scream before the illusion vanished.
In Surik's place stood a tall, broad-shouldered man in battle armor and a black cloak draped over it. His red skin revealed him to be a pureblood Sith. His eyes burned with scarlet fire. Several scars crossed his face, speaking of a rich past saturated with battles.
But even if he had been utterly disfigured, Revan would have been unable not to recognize him.
"Hello, Master," the Sith spoke.
"Scourge," Revan replied, fighting to keep the churning rage inside him contained. "Traitor."
————
Read ahead of schedule here → pat-reon(.)c-om/Bluuuxx [remove the parentheses and hyphen]