Unfamiliar voices float through a man's head.
"What should we do with…"
"How could he have possibly…"
"What?" "How?" "When?"
If he were conscious no doubt the man would have found the frantic questioning somewhat humorous. Alas, this was not the case.
The most feared Sith Lord in millennia lay prostrate on a sterile metal table in a dank stone room. Surrounding him were his aforementioned interrogators, arrayed in a circle around his still form. Swathing their bodies like the very shadows pulled from the dark corners of the room were heavy robes of muted hue, hoods drawn up, only frantic mouth movement shattering the stillness of their being.
Yes, Revan himself was left helpless to the Jedi. Digging through his mind like that of an open grave, they sifted through memories, discarding most but like a prospector storing away those that gave promise. These little nuggets of gold would be used in stitching together a new personality and history from Revan's cannibalized memories.
A child's first repulsorlift bike ride? Tossed.
A Gotharian frozen ice with his father? Tossed.
Taken away by the Jedi order for training? Tossed.
A stern reprimand from a respected authority figure? Kept and stored away.
"Minimize the damage, but what about…force?"
"Damage to cranial…trauma…cut off"
Even while unconscious, Revan felt the intense body-wide pain that this process caused. Flame lanced through his veins as his new personality was created, one loyal to the Republic, selfless, obedient, devised to keep him (and the rest of the known galaxy) "safe".
One of the masters overseeing this operation, "abomination of the force" some would call it, smiled slightly. She felt a hand on her bony shoulder, one of the others comforting her.
"Hope springs eternal, no?"
The woman shook her head slightly, the smile growing into a knowing smirk. She gestured down to Revan's mouth, which was stuck in a rictus of pain.
"So he is reborn much like he died, is he not?"
An eyebrow raised, a thought betrayed.
"I don't follow."
The woman looked up from Revan's mouth, her bony hands gesturing as if she were a schoolteacher showing a particularly slow student some obvious concept.
"A galaxy once united, now sliced in twain
Power held even through endless pain
War and bloodshed, in an infinite gyre
The destined warrior, born of fire."
The cryptic message being her last words told, she walked out, leaving a stunned master Khal'Dram staring down at the motionless body of what was once the single most terrifying thing he had known. His work was done, all that was left was for handpicked masters to program in details about Revan's recent "past". One of his colleagues noticed distress plaguing the normally-pristine pool of Khal's face.
"What we did was for the greater good, this is for certain."
"Yes, of course." Khal shook the distress off his face and smiled at his longtime companion.
"I still can't help but wonder, though…"
The other master shot Khal a questioning look. "Though…please continue."
"It was nothing, fancies of an idle mind." A small smile and a brief wave were shown to the said master before Khal went on his way.
The destined warrior, born of fire.