Author's Notes: Hello everyone! All right, this is my first story, and I have to admit I'm a bit nervous about it. For reference, the title is taken from an essay by CS Lewis--so I didn't actually come up with it myself. Hooray for homages! But oh well, here I go.
Since it doesn't look like Kotor III will ever get made, I decided to try to write this and end the saga the way I would do it. The plot revolves around the Exile joining up with Bastila and some new friends to find Revan and take down the Sith Empire harbored in the Unknown Regions. While I can't make any promises about the quality of writing, I can ensure that there will be gray Jedi galore, uncharted worlds, strange aliens, romance (M!Revan/Bastila), and an attempt at a plot twist. I hope you'll forgive me for breaking canon a little bit, though. There are some characters that live at the end of K2 that I kill off, and one that is supposed to die that I have kept alive. So--sorry about that.
Much thanks to any of you who read and/or comment on this. If you want to tear me a new one and tell me this is the worst story you've ever read, that's cool too! Just please keep it constructive so I can learn from the mistakes. I'm new so I could use the help. :)
Special thanks to Lord Valentai, who is working as the beta for this piece. He somehow navigated my ocean of commas and provided priceless advice--not an easy task!
So, enough talking! Time to get the show on the road. Disclaimer: None of this is mine--it's all property of the nice people at Bioware, Obsidian, and anyone else that ever worked for anything Star Wars related ever.
Prologue: Escape from Malachor V
Another quake rattled through the chasm where he fell, the ceiling and walls tearing themselves apart. Exhaustion seized his lungs, gripping his chest with each brutal breath. He had collapsed on the ground, his back resting on the aged tiles, cracked and covered with dirt. His hands were extended outwards, body bruised, cut, and broken. The Exile, once a formidable Jedi, now was a pathetic clump of limbs and robes. His charcoal colored robes, that of a Gray Jedi, were charred and bloodied. He rested his shaven head on the dirt, ignorant of the collapsing structure around him. If his brown eyes had opened, he still might not have understood what was happening. But he did not, he simply laid there. Just to his right was the lifeless carcass of that abominable old woman, the one who caused all of it. Her manipulations and trickery resulted in the deaths of his friends and the Jedi. The Council, or what remained of it, was rounded up and their souls were consumed. He had followed her into this place—the very underside of the universe—a veritable hell. His ship crashed, the Echani girl was killed on impact. He had cavorted across the galaxy for months, and now had to fight his way through a seemingly endless barrage of insolent attackers, just to get his revenge and stop the old witch from wreaking havoc. He did. But now pure exhaustion was taking its terrible toll.
Even after he had slain her, he awaited his own death. He wanted to get up, run away, flee the imminent destruction via the collapsing academy, but he could not muster the strength. He was so tired, even the face of death could not instigate a spark within him. Sleep, the eternal sleep of death, seemed so welcoming, and so final. It did not matter whatever he had hoped for, though, even had he wanted to escape, he could not run. His left foot was severely damaged in the fight. He could not feel it, and vaguely wondered if it was still attached. He instinctively glanced down at it, cringed at the warped direction it pointed, jutting inwards toward his other foot. The exhaustion was so great; however, that he could not even feel the pain. All he could feel was the lethal sedative of tiredness slowly seeping through his muscles, easing his agony and lulling him into the blackness. He was just about to succumb when he heard a voice yelling.
"Caius! Caius!" it called. "There you are!"
He recognized the voice immediately, one of his apprentices: Atton.
"Hold on, you bastard, we can't come this far and let you die!" The arrogant pilot suddenly came into Caius's blurred view, his figure stooping over him. "Can you hear me?" he asked, "Damn it! Come on, are you in there?!"
"I'm so…tired," the Exile answered groggily.
"You're bleeding," Atton said matter-of-factly. "We've got to get you out of here; in case you didn't notice, the whole place is coming apart."
"I am?" Caius asked deliriously, "And who's we?"
"I'm here," spoke a second voice, a woman's voice. A slender girl, layered in robes matching the auburn red of her hair entered his peripheral.
Atton spoke for her, "Mira's with me. I don't know what happened to the others; I saw Bao-Dur get killed a moment ago..."
"There's no time," she said. At that, they both gripped one of his arms and hoisted him up. Now the pain was real. The sleep started to fade, and his foot seared with the horrible sensation. He let out a grunt, grimacing.
Mira nearly fell, gasped, "He's too heavy to drag. Come on, Caius, can you walk at all?"
He jerked his good leg into an awkward position under himself and stood up with Atton's help. Again the pain jolted through his leg, his eyes automatically shutting as he winced. A huge crag of earth smashed into the ground next to them.
"That's our cue to leave," Atton said dryly. "Come on Mira."
She pulled his arm up again and they made their way to the exit. The Exile hobbled horribly as the other two strained to carry him out of the core of the decrepit academy. The walls and ceiling continued to melt away as the planet was being rent into thousands of pieces.
"The Mass Shadow Generator was re-activated by Bao-Dur's remote," Atton said, over the din of the falling structure, "we don't have much time."
"Great," gritted Caius through clenched teeth, "all I needed was for that to happen again."
The entangled group ambled their way into the labyrinthine halls of the academy, desperately short on time. They hobbled up to a door, hoping it would be a quicker way out than in. Atton tried to open it, but it was locked.
"Damn it," he cursed. "Hold on a second."
He set Caius down and began tinkering with the lock. Caius slumped against the wall, gasping for breath, and stared up into Mira's eyes. She was overcome with concern, noticing the trail of blood that followed in their wake, leaking off of Caius's bad leg. "Here," she said, "I'll help." She closed her eyes and concentrated, funneling her energy into his body, trying to mend his mangled appendage.
Mira was one of his pupils that he actually liked. The others only served to frustrate and complicate matters—they were good enough people, but their insecurities were nearly intolerable. But they were all gone now; Nihilus killed Visas, the Handmaiden was dead and so was Bao-Dur. Canderous was the only Force blind member of his crew, but he had stayed behind on Telos with his resurrected Mandalorian fleet. Only Mira and Atton remained, his best students. Caius's eyes blurred as she tried to heal his wounds, only vaguely focused on her face as she concentrated intently on him. He tried not to slip into unconsciousness, suddenly thought about when he trained her. She was very young, pretty in her own way, almost like a daughter to him. The rebellious one who never did exactly as she was supposed, but still was there when you needed her. In his frazzled state, he felt a degree of pride that he was responsible for turning her into the level-headed adult she was now, not the confused bounty hunter she had been.
"Got it," Atton yelled, jerking Caius out of his adulatory stupor. The group then hoisted him back up and rolled through the door.
"I think it's right around this corner," Atton said as the academy convulsed once again, this time even more violently. They wheeled widely around it, struggling still to maintain balance. At the end of the red and black hallway, a huge gaping door hung openly partially, damaged by the falling objects. The distinctive red eye that marked the center of the door was completely smashed in by a gargantuan rock. "Look! I can see outside!" exclaimed Mira.
"Just a little bit further," Atton said, "the Ebon Hawk is crashed into a cliff face outside, but I think we can get her to fly again." There was another seizure. "Damn, I hope we can get her to fly again."
The group fought through their individual pains to stride down the hallway, Mira and Atton working their steps in unison so as to lessen the stress on Caius. He leaped in between their steps, his good leg bounding and causing his left to hurt with each impact with the ground.
"Come on, come on," Atton said subconsciously, willing them to keep going.
They burst through the exit, thrusting themselves outside in one last gasp of strength.
"There's the Hawk," Atton said. The loading ramp was jutting open, jarred as badly as Caius's battered foot. Its gaping hole begged them to enter it. They struggled across the gray, dirt valley towards the once-beautiful ship, now a weathered and beaten vessel that barely looked space-worthy. The dark sky was eclectic. Lightning shattered through the black clouds, the bleak atmosphere a sign of the planet tearing itself apart. The clouds whirled and spun, the earth seemingly spinning; a loud whirring noise emanating from every direction as each piece of the planet hurled into space, gravity playing havoc with the world.
Atton was cursing under his breath; Caius could not hear it, focusing intently on his steps. The pain was tremendous. He was increasingly distancing himself from reality, the agony shutting his senses off from the rest of the world. He tried desperately to focus on anything to keep himself there. His head was dizzying due to loss of blood, so he tried to count each time he took a step. 1, 2, step, 1, 2, step, 1, 2, step, 1…
The unmistakable crack of a blaster rifle echoed throughout the valley, just as they approached the beached ship. Almost instantly, a shrill scream of a young woman pierced through the valley. Caius immediately felt himself slam into the ground, the support on his right side suddenly gone.
"No!" Atton yelled. A yellow blade suddenly whirled into view, spinning in front of his body. Several more blaster shots were repelling, the blade cracking with each impacted shot. Atton thrust his hand out and clenched the air. Caius tried to shift his graying view, saw a lone Sith trooper clutching his throat. The man fell to his knees, gasping for air, and then rolled onto the ground, not moving.
"Mira! Mira!" yelled Atton as he put away his weapon. "Oh no, oh no," he muttered to himself. "Hold on, Mira, come on!"
Caius shifted on the ground, looked over at Mira. Her eyes were closed, her teeth clenched in response to pain. Her back was arched and her hands were underneath her, trying to hold onto her wound, somehow alleviate the pain. Caius felt himself yanked up from the ground by his arms, then dragged across the ground. He grimaced in pain as his bad leg bounced and slammed into rocks scattered about. He was pulled onto the crumpled loading ramp, and then felt himself fall back onto the ground, his grip on reality shaking. Atton's body suddenly leapt over him, sprinting towards Mira. She still twisted on the ground slightly, her young face contorting with pain. The sight of someone so close to him getting shot in the back was as much mental torment as the physical pain from his shredded leg. His mind was swimming. Caius heard Atton yell as he lifted her body off of the ground. Her arms fell lazily towards the ground, dangling uselessly as he hurried her back to the ship.
Caius, gradually forcing himself through his mental haze, tried to reason what to do. He knew all he could do was get inside the ship's airlock, when Atton brought Mira inside, he'd have to close the airlock as soon as possible. He rolled himself up and, using just his upper body strength, pulled himself up the loading ramp towards the inside of the beat-up spacecraft. He collapsed from fatigue, simply fell to the steel ground and gasped for air. Atton launched up the ramp, moving at and otherworldly speed, and let Mira slide onto the ground next to Caius. He slammed the button to close the airlock, and whirled around towards the cockpit.
The Exile tried to move, looked over at Mira. She was still breathing, though each inhalation was labored. A horrid, wheezing cough slithered from her through each time she tried to breathe, her chest quivering under the stress. The airlock doors smacked shut, and the Hawk began rumbling, shaking in an attempt to free itself from its rocky prison.
"Come on, baby, come on!" Atton shouted over the chaotic noise.
Caius pushed himself closer to Mira. He grabbed her wrist, could feel a faint pulse. His consciousness was itself fading. He forced himself through the gray; felt he had to help her. He reached out to the Force for the first time since his duel with Kreia, tried to harness it and pour its healing energy into Mira's dying body. The action nearly knocked him out. Communication with the Force was difficult since it was severed from him, in extreme states of panic and pain like this, it was almost impossible. He lapsed into blackness for a second, felt his head fall back into his shoulder, and then awoke again.
"Mira," he said, "can you hear me? Please tell me you can hear me." He was in tears now, doubled by his physical pain and fear for Mira.
"I..." she croaked quietly. Her eyes blinked open slightly, they focused on his, red. The ship rocked violently and they both skidded into the wall of the ship. The massive spacecraft shuddered as it forced itself off of the ground. Atton shouted with excitement from the cockpit. Caius covered Mira's broken body, tried to shield her from the rocking of the ship. Her breaths were even more labored now, each one extracting a quiet gasp from her throat.
"Just hang in there," he said, trying to soothe her. "We're…going to make it."
She couldn't talk, she only stared at him, her eyes swimming in pure, real terror.
Caius still defied his own pain and tried to comfort her, she couldn't talk, neither would he. He was not even sure he could make sense. His mind was fading as the adrenaline began to wear. He was confronted with dream-like images of his past. He remembered Mira, helping her with her clumsy lighstaber strokes, and helping her control the Force. He had felt as if he were teaching a child how to ride a bicycle. And now this paternal affection for her was raging inside of him. He felt so completely helpless, she was just lying there next to him, dying, and he could do nothing. His head throbbed, he floated out of consciousness again, dizzying and almost falling head first into the ground. Another cough shook him out of it.
She shook and a little blood came out of her mouth. Her eyes reddened slightly more, and she gurgled, trying to speak. Her lips moved slightly, and he leaned in, trying to hear what she was saying. He lifted her head up off of the ground, his own awareness of pain becoming increasingly distant.
Another cough, this time a word barely fought its way through her bloodied hacking, he only heard, "Thanks." His eyes watered, she tried again, "Thank you...for teaching...me."
"No," Caius said, feeling he had to comfort her, "It's no..." he stumbled, "you're...welcome..." The words seemed horribly normal, awkward, for such a horrendous situation; he thought he must say something better. "You can't...go," he said. His dizziness at this point caused him to feel like an observer to the situation. He felt as though he wasn't actually speaking, the words coming out of his mouth were automatic, he was merely watching and listening.
Mira faintly smiled, her bloodshot eyes still piercing through him. Atton shouted from the background again.
"Mira?" Caius said.
There was no reply.
"Mira...?"
Her eyes glazed over. Caius tried to grab her wrist to feel her pulse, but he could not get his bearings. The ship stabilized, but he was in the throes of agony once again. He felt Malachor tearing itself apart, thought, Not again, I can't do this again. He let Mira's head down and fell onto the ground. He started shuddering, beginning to cry. His mind was fracturing after having watched one of his most beloved friends get shot, his soul was getting eaten away by the second destruction of Malachor, and his body would not stop bleeding. He simply gave up, defeated.
Atton leaped around the corner of the ship and into the airlock, he said, "We're going to make it." He paused for a moment, stared down in horror, "Mira…" He heaved her off of the ground, muttered quietly, "She's alive…I can save her."
Caius said nothing, just lapsed into darkness.
Author's Notes: There we are. Sorry that was a little darker than I would have liked--think of it as a side effect to writing about Malachor. The rest of the story won't be so grim. Thanks again to anyone who reads this. If anyone wants more of this I'll try to get some up ASAP. If not, that's cool, too. Just make sure you tell me if you want more, because otherwise I'll never know and just leave it alone. Take care!
