A/N: This is 1000% the type of story I write the moment my self-destructive urge to spend a week binge reading fan fiction ends. I'll admit straight up that I haven't played KOTOR (yet) and I'm going to be playing fast and loose with the 'established' canon where it serves the purpose of my narrative. Otherwise, I'll try and keep things as vaguely close to the game as possible.
A Full Memory
Part I
Revelation
Cylissa d'Toln grimaced, a searing migraine making her stumble for a split second. She quickly regained her feet and continued running. The migraines had been coming with intensifying frequency and strength for the past few weeks. It wasn't as if they were new though, for they had plagued her since crash landing on Taris nearly three months ago. She had nearly passed out while submerged beneath the seas of Manaan and her splitting head had nearly led her to her death while subduing a raging Krayt Dragon on Tatooine. Part of her wished she had succumbed to the pain in those moments, for everything seemed to be falling apart around her and for the first time since departing Dantooine, she felt doubt that their mission would succeed.
Her closest companions were acting strangely and she knew it wasn't because they were still behind enemy lines after being captured. No, something worse was happening, one that could very well tear apart their team, prematurely end their mission, and grant a final victory to Malak and his Sith Empire.
Carth Onasi, former Commander of the Endar Spire, had suddenly returned to the paranoia and distrust that had marred their relationship, both professional and personal, during the first days of that hellish week on Taris. In fact, he was worse, as if he now had a reason to distrust her. Cylissa wanted to press the Republic soldier as to what the late Admiral Saul Karath had told him in those final moments on the bridge of the Leviathan. Unfortunately, they had to flee. Darth Malak, the Dark Lord of the Sith they were in part tasked with slaying, had returned to his flagship. Not to capture Cylissa or Carth, but to claim the third of their current party for himself.
Bastila Shan, Padawan of the Jedi Order and the only known user of the Force ability Battle Meditation living, had long confused Cylissa. The fellow Jedi—strange, Cylissa still thought, that I am a Jedi even if their teachings feel hollow and their Code doesn't resonate with me the same way it does with her—had been evasive and defensive upon their first meeting. She was still like that on a few topics, Cylissa knew, but there were strong bonds between them. One had been mysteriously born through the Force while the other was one of the romantic variety forged during their quest. To her, they were linked in totality, even if she knew Bastila had doubts about the latter.
"It's against the Code," Bastila would say in between languid and passionate kisses. "Yet I cannot help but be drawn to you, Cyl."
And that led Cylissa, as the trio dashed through the Leviathan en route to the Ebon Hawk, to consider her own great mystery. Since Dantooine, it felt as if she was retracing the steps of someone close to her, or bizarrely enough, her own. An absurd idea, for she had never met the man known as Revan, who was also called many things: Jedi Knight, the Revanchist, Savior of the Republic, Butcher, and Sith Lord. Revan was also, as most claimed, dead.
As far as she was concerned, it was a load of Bantha poodoo. Master Vrook, somehow distrustful and suspicious and prone to furious ranting yet a member of the Jedi Council that claimed all three were paths to the Dark Side, had implied during their first meeting when she was offered instruction as a Jedi that Revan still lived. Compounded upon that was the fact during her brief study of Force visions before departing the Jedi Enclave, Cylissa had determined the visions she witnessed did not line up with what Jedi texts said on the issue. There was a connection between her and Revan. One that Bastila, and now Carth, knew yet would not share with her.
They are afraid, a mental voice whispered. They are afraid of what you would do should you learn the truth. It sounded like her but wasn't her. And yet, she didn't fault the voice.
She had been planning since Kashyyyk and her realization of something being wrong to wait until Malak was defeated to press Bastila on the issue, but she would not—could not—wait any longer. For, should things go as she hoped, Bastila and Carth would tell her exactly what they knew without her having to say a word. She was capable of that much.
"We're nearly there," said Carth, a strange edge to his voice. He clicked on his personal COM. "Canderous. Prep the Hawk for launch. ETA of three."
"Got it, Republic," the Mandalorian replied. There was blaster fire, screams, and a mechanical laugh of 'die, meatbags!' in the background. "Cyl's demented droid is guarding the ship against Sith Troopers. He's been…enjoying himself." Cylissa let a brief smile cross her face. If anyone would pull them from the flaming mess that was their capture and escape, it would be Canderous Ordo. She trusted the man enough to do that, at least. And with HK, they should have a clear shot to the Ebon Hawk. There was a pleasant if concerning, lack of Sith Troopers and Dark Jedi before them.
"We must hurry," Bastila insisted. "I can sense the Dark Lord. He's nearly upon us."
Cylissa grimaced. Malak's presence hung about the Leviathan like a nasty sore. It was strangely familiar, though she wanted to claim it was only due to her 'Revan visions'. She opened her mouth to reply, but that was when a cold presence swept over her. The blast door that would guide them along the shortest route to their destination hissed open.
Between them and their path was Malak himself. He was towering in red and black, bald and tattooed with a metal jaw. Cylissa knew immediately who he was, though it was strange seeing him in the flesh. In every vision, he never felt so greatly of the Dark Side. That was Revan, and even he held it at bay through will alone. Malak has allowed himself to be consumed.
The fool, that other mental voice added.
Carth acted first and acted rashly. He drew his blaster and fired, shouting. Cylissa felt her pulse pound in her ears and only registered the red bolts cross the short distance.
Malak blocked the bolts and then shoved Carth aside with the Force as if the pilot was but a nuisance. He laughed, and Cylissa felt a strange, disturbing sense of déjà vu in her gut. Her migraine almost hissed as the intensity rose.
"Ah, Bastila Shan. You are finally mine, even if you do not know it yet. You shall make a fine replacement for Darth Bandon. Just as I replaced Revan." His eyes—yellow eyes, hating eyes, Sith eyes—left Bastila and fell upon Cylissa. The recognition made her migraine spike, sudden and vicious. She felt as if there was a wall in her head with something smashing at it. "And then there is you. When I heard about you, I was curious to meet you, to see what was done to make you revert. It has been some time—"
"You had a real jaw last time I saw you," Cylissa blurted. She then gritted her teeth as a memory of Malak without a jaw sprung to mind. The red clothes he wore were similar, yet different, from those the Dark Lord now wore. Why am I seeing this?
"Have you truly forgotten then? Did the Jedi do that much damage to you?" Malak asked. He was genuinely curious, which not only threw her for a loop but went against everything she knew of the Sith.
Jedi? What would they do to me? It's not like I've ever come into conflict with—
The migraine smashed hard against her skull. Her eyes bulged for a moment and, as if drunk, Cylissa stumbled into the wall to her right and leaned against it as if it were her entire world. Her left hand rose to cover much of her face as the mental wall—and where had it come from, she still wondered—fractured, splintering and letting whatever was behind seep through. Her skull screamed bloody murder as memories played, moments from their quest as if they answered her puzzling questions.
"They say the Force can do terrible things to a mind. It can wipe away your memories and destroy your identity," Carth said after they made the jump to hyperspace, escaping Taris and its destruction. Bastila had just confronted her about training on Dantooine, which didn't sound that bad to Cylissa. If she were Force-sensitive as the Jedi believed, she would need training. Carth's words, however, had frozen her in the co-pilot seat, if only for a moment. Why did it resonate with her in such a horrific manner?
"What greater weapon is there than to turn an enemy to your cause? To use their own knowledge against them?" That had been Bastila's rhetorical words to her in a moment of brief respite upon Dantooine. She had a strange expression at that moment, one almost of regret and doubts, and had purposefully blocked Cylissa out through their bond. Who do you think of? She had wondered at the time. What did you do to make those words sound so sad?
The migraine pulsed once more. Her eyes, normally a soft hazel, flashed yellow as for a brief moment, a soaring rage burned through her. And, with an ultimate finality, the mental wall was blown away and the truth came forth in a rushing wave of memory and sorrow.
Revan sat within his chambers, alone and before a mirror. He pulled down his hood and drew off his helmet, the infamous Mandalorian mask that hid his features. It was not a man's face in the mirror, distorted sallow and black-veined by the Dark Side. Instead, it was a woman, pale and cold with a sharp, harsh beauty. It was Cylissa's face, and yellow, willful eyes burned in dark sockets. And then there were flashes of her past. Revan's past. Of the terrible, yet great things she had done.
"…Alek…" Cylissa—Revan—whispered. Her voice grew with every word. "I… I remember. You. The Temple. Cathar. Corellia. Dxun. Cassus and Mandalore. Meetra—kriff, what did the Council do to her after she went to confront them? Malachor and Dromund Kaas. Our quest. My war. Your betrayal."
She was Revan, not Cylissa the smuggler pressed into Republic service and then made a Jedi. She had once been Jedi Knight Cylissa d'Toln, but then she had come upon the Genocide on Cathar and was shown by the Force how one Mandalorian stood for honor and life against Cassus Fett and his Neo-Crusaders. After that, there had only been Revan and her—though most say his—eternal crusade. There was the crusade against the Mandalorians and then the one against the Republic and the Jedi. Separate, yet the same. She would give the Council credit for returning her old name, though she mentally damned them for stripping her strength and burying it under many falsehoods.
"Ah, so you do remember," Malak said, surprised and amused and even worried.
What must I feel like right now in the Force? Do any survivors from Dantooine sense me? What of the High Council on Coruscant, the Jedi scattered across the galaxy, and the Dark Jedi sworn to serve me?
Malak continued. "I had thought you were lost, Revan. But it seems you were only… occupied."
"I hadn't wanted to believe it," Carth mumbled. Revan looked over and saw the pilot struggling to his feet. His eyes were focused on her, filled with sorrow and fear and hate. There was no sign of trust. "But it's true, isn't it. You are Revan."
"I am and I was and I may be again," she confessed, a whirlwind of conflict and memory. She turned to Bastila, who flinched under her gaze. "What was your role in the Council's manipulation? Is everything that has happened between us been a lie?"
"I was to…report to the Council should your original personality or your memories and powers as a Sith emerge. I disagreed with the decision to wipe your memories and install a false persona, but you had been so badly injured aboard the Revanchist that I couldn't say what would truly be the best option at that time. At least, that was what the Council told me when I asked." Bastila then looked away, lips pressed tight and thin with regret. Revan could feel everything that Bastila was feeling and knew that at least one involved in her downfall would be forgiven. "It changes nothing about how I…feel about you."
"You should know something," Revan began, barely a whisper. Memories were continuing to flood her, fitting into place yet stepping aside for more. There were many constants through them, but one in particular spoke to her as appeasement for Bastila. "I have acted as I have in the past. Every choice I have made since the Endar Spire is one I would have made, memories or no. Compassion was always my greatest strength—"
"And your greatest weakness," Malak added. Revan turned back to her former friend, her former apprentice. "It led us into the Mandalorian Wars and then into Unknown Space. You led us to the Sith, which begun our journey to the Dark Side. It was your compassion that was responsible for our fall, Revan. It was also for the best."
"That was my mistake, letting us fall so far," Revan declared. She drew a lightsaber, not the one crafted under the watchful eye of Master Dorak on Dantooine, but one of two she had found snooping through the cargo bay during one sleepless night. It came to life in a flash of violet light. They were a sharp gasp behind her—Bastila, who knew too much—but Revan ignored it, striding forth. "I shall rectify the mistake I made when I punished you for the Destruction of Telos IV, Malak. You went against my orders, you fracking nerf herding fool. You destroyed a valuable world, one that could have been used to shorten the war. A precious supply of Force-sensitives not directly under the influence of the Jedi. I should have taken your life, not your jaw, for that. Clearly, I was the fool."
Malak chuckled. "I welcome the attempt, though you will fail. You are weak, and as you say, a fool. The circle is now complete Revan. When we last met, I was the learner. Now I am the master."
"Is that so? Then show me if you're worthy of being the Dark Lord of the Sith, Darth Malak." With that, Revan sprung forward, the Force boosting her movements. A second lightsaber—the blue one crafted on Dantooine—slipped flicked out of a sleeve and into her left hand. Malak ignited his own weapon, met her violet blade, and sidestepped as she ignited her blue-bladed weapon and made to carve through his right kidney.
Kriffing bastard is too familiar with my brand of Juyo and has clearly planned how to fight it, mindless of how much of my previous skill I've retained. Good thing I never held myself to a couple Forms.
They exchanged four more blows before Revan switched forms. Moving from Juyo—the vicious Form Seven—to Djem So—the lightsaber-combat variant of Form Five—turned the fight in Revan's favor. Malak was taken off guard, and though Form Five was a defensive style, it put pressure on him to watch for counterattacks instead of focusing on wearing her down with superior strength. The fight continued, increasing in speed and fury, as Revan drew upon the Dark Side as she had not since the fateful encounter aboard her flagship. In the back of her mind, through the Force bond that first bound her and Bastila close, she felt concern bubble up.
Do not interfere, she told Bastila through their bond. Malak is my responsibility. I must be the one to defeat him.
And protecting you from the Dark Side is mine, Bastila retorted. I…I care too much about you to let you return to the Dark, Revan. I could not bear to let it happen.
Revan locked blades, her two versus Malak's one, and through the bond said, I love you, Bastila Shan. I love you as Cylissa and I love you as Revan. Your love has kept the Dark at bay. You can draw me back to the Light once this is finished.
She then pushed the bond to the back of her mind, letting only the warmth of Bastila's emotions permeate through.
"Enough," Malak said. He shoved Revan back and then blasted her with Force lightning. She was able to catch most of the attack upon the blades of her lightsabers, but a pulse was wild enough to slip past the guard. The pain seared through her, though she gritted her teeth to hold back a scream.
"Impressive," Malak whispered. He moved closer, adding more power to the attack. Revan adjusted her guard, crossing the blades before her body. The Dark Lord continued his approach until they were close enough Revan could easily decapitate him. Yet, she continued to block the lightning.
"End this cowardly trick," she bit out. "Unless you have learned nothing from Telos and your attempt upon my life."
Malak snorted and then caught her off-guard with a devastating kick to the gut. It flung her far enough to crash into the same wall Carth had collided with. Her head smacked the wall and the worst of the migraine she'd been holding back solely with the Force and her own anger overwhelmed her senses. Memories flashed and flooded, though not enough to fully take her away from the moment before her.
"Come on, get up," Carth said bitterly, looping an arm under hers. It was surprising, but she had yet to betray him in full, she surmised. He lifted her, though her legs struggled to support her body. Everything seemed to blur—memories, her surroundings, those around. Darth Malak flickered with the Alek she had fought side by side with through the Mandalorian Wars. Bastila seemed to switch between the concern of the present and the uncertainty of the recent past, and the determination of their first encounter.
By the Force, she was beautiful even then…
"It seems you have grown weak, Revan." Malak approached, ready to finish her. "Your end has finally come."
"Not if I have anything to say about it!"
Revan looked up, blinking, and saw that Bastila had engaged Malak. Her double-bladed saber pressed the attack. Sentinel yellow drove against Sith red. She spared a glance back. "Go! I shall hold him off. You must find the Forge!"
"But…" Revan slurred, struggling with past and present. "Bas…you…"
"I understand," Carth said. He shifted about, lifted Revan so she was over his shoulders, and grabbed her fallen lightsabers. "May the Force be with you," he called.
"And with you!" she shouted. The blast door closed, cutting them off from their friend. Carth turned from the sealed door and began along another route to the Ebon Hawk.
Revan, upon his shoulders, could only sob. She had lost and gained too much in so short a time, and when she tried to reach out through the bond, there was only an unnerving silence from Bastila.
"Will you tell them, or should I?" Carth asked, tone biting and overly harsh. Revan glanced at the pilot and sighed. Anger rolled off him in waves and she was certain Jolee and Juhani could feel it as well. The Cathar had an odd look, yet the old man was clearly unaffected. Curious.
Some three hours had passed since they escaped the Leviathan and there was over a day before they reached their next destination. Leaving Bastila to face Malak made her stomach twist. She knew with certainty her Jedi lover lived. Malak desired her too much to kill her now. Hold out, Bastila. I will not abandon you, ever. Do not give in to the Dark Side.
"Tell us what? Does this have to do with why Carth has been a sourpuss since we abandoned Bastila?" Mission asked, frowning. The young Twi'lek was frighteningly intelligent for the tender age of fourteen. She reminded Revan too much of herself at that age. So much so, it hurt.
"We did not abandon Bastila, and yes, this is about why he's being an obstinate nerf herder. More so than usual, that is." She sighed, rubbing her face. "The Cylissa d'Toln you all know is a fake," Revan said. Her eyes moved from Mission and Zaalbar, the Twi'lek girl's Wookie companion that swore a life debt to Revan, then to Jolee and Juhani, her fellows in the Force, and then to Canderous and the droids T3-M4 and HK-47. All of them were confused in some manner, except for the old man. Wonder how long he's known. Her voice sounded bitter in her head.
She settled herself and then continued. "The smuggler-soldier story was a lie to…hold back the truth of who I am. Becoming a Jedi was a…a return to who I had been. I was, until several years ago, Jedi Knight Cylissa d'Toln, widely respected throughout the Order and a top candidate for a future spot on the Council. In the time we have been together, I have acted just as she would have then, even without my former memories.
"But that is not the name I am best known by. I have been called many things. Savior and hero, monster and villain, a butcher and an icon and too many other things to list right now. For I am Revan, the Jedi Knight who fought and defeated the Mandalorians, who disappeared and fell to the Dark Side, and then declared war upon the Republic before being betrayed by my apprentice, Malak."
A long moment of quiet passed as her words settled upon the crew.
"Wait, really?" Mission blurted, eyes bulging. "You're…Revan? But I thought Revan was a man. And, you know, dead. Do you remember being the Dark Lord?"
"I remember everything of my past, Mission. It's…disconcerting having some thirty years of a forgotten life strike in mere moments. I'm still sorting through everything. Me being a man? That was a falsehood crafted to protect me throughout the Mandalorian Wars and it stuck when the Jedi Civil War began." She ignored Carth's odd cough. "Only a select few—Alek, Meetra, some of the Admiralty, the Jedi Council—knew the truth. I told Mandalore when I defeated him at Malachor V before the Mass Shadow Generator was activated. In exchange, he told me of the threat that drove them to war." She paused and whispered to herself, "I really need to find out what happened to Meetra after Malachor. She was too good of a friend to abandon as I did, but I was already slipping down the path to the Dark Side then." Revan coughed and then raised her voice to continue. "And clearly my death was an exaggeration."
"Wow," Mission murmured, almost star struck. "That's wizard…"
"It ain't 'wow' nor 'wizard,' Mission," Carth said, almost a growl. "Do you know what she's done? The broken oaths, the great casualties created in her wake? She should've been court-martialed for Malachor V, not called a hero." He fixed his glare upon her. "I was right to be doubtful of you on Taris. How can we trust you, now that you remember everything? What's to stop you from betraying the Republic?"
"I am your friend, Carth Onasi," Revan declared. "I have been your friend for months. My past does not change that. I thought you finally trusted me or has everything that has happened since Taris meant nothing to you?"
"I thought you were a Jedi, someone who fought for the Republic. Not a Sith and especially not the Dark Lord hi—herself."
"I…" Revan's voice fell off. Am I a Jedi? I wasn't much of a Sith, or at least that is how things feel searching my memories and thinking of the Sith I have faced. Yes, I did fall to the Dark Side. But the ambition, the cruelty? It was tempered by rather…Jedi motivations on my part. They were tools to save the Republic from itself and to force change upon the Jedi.
"Your name doesn't matter to me," Canderous declared, putting a stopper on Carth's ranting. "I followed you when you were Cylissa and I will follow you as Revan. You gave us the best damn fight out of everyone in the Wars and of every Jedi out there, you're the only one worth an ounce of respect. Most Mandalorians would give their frakin' arm to fight beside you, and here I am with mine intact. Frankly, it's an honor to serve and fight by your side. As far as I am concerned, you are Mandalore and deserve my loyalty and those of my people."
"Thanks, Canderous," Revan said, proud and grateful and a tad bitter. "It feels strange knowing I am Mandalore when I fought a war to stop him."
"You defeating the previous Mandalore is reason enough to be called so, but I witnessed you take the Mask of Mandalore with my own eyes at Malachor."
Revan frowned. She didn't remember Canderous from that battle, but then she only recognized a few Mandalorians while they were in armor. I should track down that bastard Cassus Fett after Malak has been handled. If there's anyone I should've gotten before the Wars ended, it was him. "That gold thing? Hells, if you want it Canderous, you only gotta ask. I trust you to lead the Mandalorian people. Once my business with Malak is finished, I'll give it over. Or you can fight me for it; whatever helps you sleep best at night. Just put that bastard Fett's head on a spike for me."
Canderous nodded, grinning. He seemed to enjoy the idea of Cassus Fett dead as much as her. Means I have made a good choice then.
"I believe there's something we're ignoring, something I was getting to," Carth growled. Everyone turned to him, but he only had eyes for Revan. Wary, furious eyes of betrayal and fear. "There's the fact we have been traveling around the galaxy with a monster this entire time!"
"Don't try and put this all on me, Onasi," Revan said, all cold fury. "Bastila was the only one aboard who knew the truth of my identity. I was willing to wait until Malak and the Star Forge had been destroyed to press her on my strange connection with Revan, especially with how fragile our…relationship is. I've known for a while now that there was a connection. I just, well…"
HK-47, who had been standing about in the background muttering something to himself since she had revealed the truth, finally spoke up. "Query: May I shoot the whiny meatbag, Master? He is clearly making you act like a moody meatbag. Recitation: It reminds me of the moods your useless meatbag pupil could put you in. You are much better than this, especially among other meatbags."
"Fierfek. Why is it now that you have to remember your past, HK?" Revan mumbled. Zaalbar roared in disapproval. "Oh shush, you furry sod. Mission says way worse when you aren't around."
Mission shouted at her, protesting the comment. That sparked the others to begin shouting. Revan grimaced, sensing an oncoming headache.
"Shut it, all of you!" she screamed, a hand pressed hard against her forehead. Her eyes scanned the central area. Judging from the odd looks she received, she feared they were flickering between hazel and yellow. I wish Bastila were here. I could always trust her and our bond to find peace among my emotions. "Jolee, Juhani. You've both been quiet. What are you thinking?"
"I've been expecting this conversation for a while," Jolee said. His old, wise eyes stared at her and she swore they pierced her and saw everything within. "I knew from the moment we met who you are, girl. The Council was mistaken to return your original name to you if they wanted to keep you being Revan a secret. Though I will say it's nice to see you know the truth. I confronted Bastila about that matter a few times, especially after she kept asking me about…my past. I wonder what you kids have been up to."
She wanted to know how he kept to the Light, yet is willing to love. The Masters would never approve ideas like balance or ignoring the tenets of their Code. They hold to it so rigidly and she is too used to following their instructions. I only hope I can save her from Malak before he destroys my work to draw her away from their dogma.
"And you?" Revan asked Juhani.
The Cathar presented a smile by the standards of her people. "You have saved me three times, Revan. You freed me from slavery on Taris when I was a child and led me to the Jedi. Then, when I thought myself fallen, you shined the Light where I had not seen it in too long. And during our travels, when I discovered the man responsible for my father's death, you reminded me that revenge is not the Jedi way."
"You are stronger than you think, Juhani, and you are a good Jedi." Revan looked around at her companions. Other than Carth, sulking to the side, they all smiled (in their own way) at her. "I…I'm grateful to have all of you traveling with me. I will need some help of my own before we reach Korriban. Since my memories have returned, I have been…tempted, I guess. It would be all too easy to use the Dark Side."
"It remembers you, and you it," Jolee said. He sighed, frowning. "I'm too old for this, girl. I stopped one Sith close to me and that was during a war too similar to this one. The doing almost destroyed me. If I must, I will do it again."
"And that is why I want you by my side on Korriban, at least as much as I can risk it," Revan said. "To reach the Star Map, we must infiltrate the Sith Academy there, for the map is within the Tomb of Naga Sadow and only the most favored student of the Academy can venture into that tomb. Well, without getting blasted into pieces that is. I will need someone to keep me from falling into darkness as I climb to the top. It would be simple to let the Dark Side retake hold." She paused, and with a smirk, added, "It'd be like riding a swoop bike."
That drew a few groans. Revan had been tempted to ask Karath how long the Leviathan had sat, waiting to ambush the Ebon Hawk. She had burned a couple days competing in the swoop racing leagues on Manaan, and factoring in their time on Tatooine, closer to a week of their journeys. I hope they weren't able to catch us because of my distracting hobby.
"Who else will you take?" Mission asked. "Can I come along?"
"Can you plot to kill someone in cold blood?" Revan asked harshly. "Can you lie so well your enemies believe you aren't already planning to put a lightsaber into their back? Would you be comfortable being thought of as my slave?" The young Twi'lek blanched, hints of white on her blue face.
"Never mind," she whispered, disturbed.
"See? The Academy is a dangerous place, and Malak's rule will have only made it worse." Revan sighed, leaning back. The migraine had lessened with her original memories returning, but there were still hints of a headache. "HK will also come along, and perhaps Canderous. I may just have you hang around the nearby settlement as reinforcements. They won't object to Mandalorians the same way they do in the Republic."
"I want to come along," Carth said. Revan turned to him and frowned at the volatile mess of emotions in his eyes. "There was one other thing I learned from Karath aboard the Leviathan. My son, Dustil, lives. Unfortunately, he was discovered to be Force-sensitive and has been taken to Korriban to be trained."
"Sithspit," Revan growled. "You will need to be careful if you are serious about this. If he is within the Academy, it will be nearly impossible to draw him out. If the trainers I had installed have remained after Malak's coup, he is likely already so deep into the Dark Side that I doubt he will ever find the Light out."
"I still want to try and save him," Carth said. "He's all I have left."
"I think that settles it," Mission said, standing. "You can take Carth once you find his son and then sneak him out! After Manaan and all those times they jailed you, it should be easy."
Revan stared at the Twi'lek girl and then sighed. "Do not be so confident, Mission. Korriban is the home of the Dark Side and its grip is pervasive. The planet itself was made uninhabitable by normal standards thanks to it. Dustil could very well be lost to Carth. Forever. Breaking away from it is…difficult, even for the strongest. It took Bastila and the Jedi Council to pull me away from the Dark Side and I was unconscious the entire time. I did not have a choice, though I have yet to deny the Light."
I once let the Dark Side manipulate my choices. I fear its grasp, yet I seek it as if it were a comfort. Kriffing memories, reminding of things best forgotten. She paused and looked towards where she felt a whimper through the Force bond she shared. Hold out, Bastila. I will return.