The first thing Revan saw was a beetle skittering over a luxuriant landscape of leaves. The beetle's iridescent shell cracked open, revealing two gossamer wings. They twitched in the warm afternoon light, gave a quick flutter, and then, quite suddenly, the insect buzzed up into the air.

He groaned and tried to straighten his body out. His fingers reached back to the nape of his neck, prodding at vertebrae through the skin. It hurt to move, but it was just an effect of the aftershock – nothing too serious. He'd managed to maintain control over the ship until the very last second, when the Ebon Hawk had crashed into a jungle canopy on the surface of Xendrin.

"Revan? What happened? Either we crashed or I had one hell of a nightmare."

Revan eased himself up out of the pilot's seat. "It wasn't your overactive imagination, Shira. We crashed, just moments after our warship exploded. The only good news is that it took the Sith fleet with it."

Shira sighed, rubbing her head. "Frack, I'm sorry. I should have been there to help. I didn't realize I was such a light-weight. One glass of that Chiss stuff and I was gone. My head's still pretty scrambled."

She stooped down and managed to turn T3 right side up. The little droid had been dented in the crash and it made him appear comically lopsided.

"Memeeeep!" T3 protested. His head spun around, lights flashing, like an emergency signal.

"Okay, okay, you're going to be alright," Shira muttered. "No need to be so dramatic."

"Did you get a chance to check out the hyperdrive?"

"No, I went to look in on Sandor in the med bay. When you said you'd locked him in there, I didn't realize that you'd strapped him to a gurney." She gave him a sardonic smile. "I'm not going to pretend your intentions were good, but you probably saved his life."

"Hm. How unfortunate. I would rather hear good news about the hyperdrive."

When Revan finally laid eyes on the hyperdrive, he realized they were in trouble. It would take at least three days to repair. With T3's help, he might be able to manage the job.

Shira and Sandor were able to pry open an escape hatch and they began a slow descent to the ground beneath the canopy.

The jungle swarmed in upon them, brash, serrated leaves and thick, strangling vines, a desperate entanglement of branches thrust out like the arms of lovers.

Red ants danced so quickly over the trees that they appeared to be droplets of blood trickling over the bark and creeping across Shira's pale hands. They tickled her skin and made her wary of being stung, but one look down to the ground was enough to remind her that she didn't have the luxury of being squeamish.

When her feet finally touched solid ground, she found Sandor waiting for her, a bemused expression on his face.

It's an unpleasant situation in every respect. There will be troops looking for us. They miss nothing.

Hearing his voice in her mind had stopped being a surprise. She tossed off an answer without thinking twice.

Let's worry about that when it comes. For now, we should set up camp, make a fire and see what we can salvage.

Sandor shook his head, shadows pooling around his eyes and carving along his gaunt cheeks. You're strange, you Jedi. I don't understand why you choose to put yourselves at risk for people you've never met. Most of them are cowards, you know. They wouldn't do the same for you.

She bent down and collected a few twigs for kindling. Somewhere high in the trees, a bird screeched and cackled. It took her a few seconds to draw her muddled thoughts together and formulate a reply.

If the people we help are afraid, it's because they have a right to be. They haven't been taught to fight and they aren't equipped to deal with a threat like the Sith. Revan and I were raised to it. Even when we were children, we knew that we had to be prepared to die. We knew the words by heart: "A Jedi's life is sacrifice". I don't expect someone like you to understand it.

I don't understand it, Sandor answered, but perhaps I might learn to admire it. We Chiss have legends that speak of warriors such as you, ones who lived before the beginning of the Ascendancy. They were called the Awasti-Seran, the Blood Legions, because, in spite of their strength, their greatest honor was to die for the weak, to fall saving another's life in combat. If they existed, they were noble, no doubt, but it is little wonder they didn't survive to protect my people.

Up in the trees, the shrieking bird at last fell silent. Shira could sense the evening approaching, a chill thickening in the air, leaves rustling in anticipation.

They might return, Sandor, one day, under another name, in a different guise. Love like that doesn't die. It just sleeps for a while.

His retort came quick and sharp. That's a charming story. You Jedi are full of lovely platitudes.

Shira shut Sandor out of her mind and concentrated on the more pressing issue of firewood. It wasn't worth contradicting him. Besides, all too often she felt almost as cynical and as hopeless, as though they were just weak refrains she parroted, scraps torn from the Jedi Code or the counsel of dead masters. Faith was hard and soon night would fall in the dense jungles of Xendrin.

"It is easy to forget how weak you humans are. We do not encounter many of your species nowadays."

Atton stared up at a dank cave ceiling toothed with stalactites. Candlelight wavered over the walls, which were marked with cryptic symbols and alien figures reeling about in concentric circles. He sincerely hoped that this was just another side-effect of bad spice, but it had been three days since he'd smoked the last of the stuff.

The shriveled face of the True Sith looked down on him, almost a semblance of affection glimmering in his black button eyes.

"It has been a while since I've had occasion to speak Basic. I find you humans of the Republic fascinating toys, so very complex, such a range of impulses. The Chiss are not nearly so intriguing – they have acquired too much self-control over the years with that Ascendancy of theirs. They were once human, too, you know, settlers, quite adventurous, not even blue until that Csilla ice settled in their veins. Very sad. In any case, I prefer humans now. Better materials."

Atton raised his head and sat up, lifting himself off the damp cave floor. The room was sparsely furnished with candles, a writing desk and a few mechanical devices, metallic flowers whose rusted petals peeled back to reveal electric maps and revolving holo-images. There was a wooden door just to his right, although he couldn't be sure whether it led to the light or deeper into the earth.

"And now you are pondering escape," the True Sith said. "I can see the workings of those human thoughts as clearly as though your skull were transparent. Do not worry yourself. I have no interest in killing you. That would be contrary to our objectives. We seek to help every sentient to achieve his true, his best, potential."

"Good luck with that," Atton muttered. "So, where are all your friends? I kind of figured the True Sith would be more than a one-man operation."

The True Sith presented him with a gracious smile, revealing a single row of square, yellow teeth. They reminded Atton of kernels in a rotted corn cob.

"Oh, they are about, many, many, many of them, although they do not frequently appear in the flesh," he chuckled. "I might arrange an audience, if you wish. That is the job they gave us, my brothers and I, as the four guardians of the Black Gates. We have been entrusted with care of the guests."

"Hey, I'm sure your buddies are real hospitable but I'm not feeling particularly social right now. I'm trying to track down two other humans, Jedi, a man and a woman. You happen to get any visitors matching that description?"

The True Sith shook his head. "No, no. It is a pity. Jedi! What fun we could have with such marvelous puppets. Like humans, but better, more powerful, you see, even more possibilities to play out. But I suppose that's why we shift our attentions towards the Republic. It is a good theater."

He turned away for a moment, muttering to himself and shaking his threadbare little head. The notion of Jedi lurking about sent tremors of excitement quaking through his squat body.

"Oh, well, oh well," he said at last, seeming to recover himself. "A human and a Force-user of some sort, almost a Jedi. Good enough. You will do nicely. Come along now. I'll bring you past the Gates. You will get an audience, I promise."

Atton grimaced."You know what? You wouldn't know it to look at me, but I'm kinda shy around big groups. And I don't think I'm properly dressed to meet important -"

"They are not too fastidious. Come along now, friend. Come along nicely. I should not like to have to hurt you again. They will be expecting us shortly."

They had just finished eating supper around the fire, when the rain came. Only a matter of seconds passed between the first fat droplet plunking down onto an open leaf and the torrent that burst in upon the canopy. It was a relentless rain that poured in from every nook and cranny, that stripped petals from the wild flowers and leaves from the trees, made every green more vivid, and stung bare skin like a cool, sweet lash.

Shira laughed as water streamed down her cheeks and plastered her dark hair to her head. "Holy frack! It's been a long time since I've felt rain like this. It's wonderful."

She glanced over at Revan, who had pulled his hood over his face and seated himself on a nearby rock. His features were almost entirely obscured by the hood except for the bottom of his nose and the taciturn twist of his mouth.

Huddled in his drenched grey robe, he looked like nothing so much as a very indignant shyrack hatchling, which made her laugh all the more. There were Cathars who were less sensitive about getting wet than Revan was. He seemed to interpret foul weather as a personal insult and held a lingering, well-known grudge against the Dxun monsoons.

She was about to tease him on this front, when she felt a jolt of awareness. Something was coming, moving quickly through the underbrush.

"I sense something approaching. We should get ready," she whispered.

"I'm ready," Revan grumbled. "When am I not? I just wish the Sith would wait an hour or two and let me kill them when it's dry."

It took her a second to spot Sandor crouched under a shrub with long, drooping leaves. With his dark blue skin, he almost melded into the jungle shadows – it was only his glinting red eyes that gave him away.

Try to climb a tree – there's going to be trouble, she advised him.

He pushed back the leaves and crept out of his shelter.

I can snipe a few of your opponents from up there if you wish. I just need a weapon to do it.

Shira rummaged through her supply bag and found an old blaster, still partially charged. She tossed it at Sandor. Take it. Now get out of the way and make it quick!

As Sandor scrambled up the slick bark of a nearby tree, Shire could hear the sound of boots tramping through the mud and blades threshing through tangled branches. She drew her lightsaber and waited, her body low to the ground and poised for the first kill.

Revan stood on the other side of the clearing, half shrouded by a curtain of delicate purple vines. He mugged at her, drawing his index finger across his throat as if it were a dagger, no doubt signaling what he planned to do to the first Sith through the clearing.

The voices became louder, and then suddenly, a curved green blade sliced through a low-hanging branch.

It took Shira a moment to realize that it was attached to an arm and that this arm was connected to a gigantic mantis. The insect mowed through the foliage and broke into the clearing, rearing on its back legs and slashing its sharp arms like scythes. It was followed by four Sith troopers, whose numbers were quickly whittled down to three, as Revan duly delivered on his promise and sliced the first one through the throat.

While Revan dodged the attacks of the remaining troopers and Sandor fired blaster bolts from the treetops, Shira set about contending with the mantis. Yellow eyes swiveling in its head, it lumbered towards her, swinging blades on either side.

She dodged the attack, her feet slipping in the slick grass. She dug her heels into the mud and stung the mantis with her lightsaber then ducked its next attack.

Despite the chaos around her, she knew it would be necessary to concentrate, especially since she rarely used the ability to control beasts in battle. She took a step backward and closed her eyes, concentrating on the Force which surrounded her more powerfully, more perfectly than the rain beating down upon her neck and shoulders.

She could sense the presence of the rampaging creature, its torment under the electric whips and collars of its Sith guards, its fear, its restlessness, the twitching pulses of its green body. Through the Force, she could feel its instincts merging with her will, its survival becoming intertwined with her own desire to live.

The mantis spun around, thrashing its razor arms through the air. It struck out at the remaining Sith troopers. There was panic in the ranks. The insect's blades slashed a trooper across the chest, leaving a spray of dark blood on the grass. The last Sith tried to run, his speed remarkable, but Shira tossed her 'saber at his back. It whirled through the air, hissing and fizzing in the rain, and cut him down just as he reached the edge of the clearing, before it boomeranged back into her hand.

"Now for the insect, I guess," Revan muttered. He lifted his 'saber.

Shira reeled around. "No, it's okay. Watch. I'm actually getting the hang of this."

She focused on the mantis, its beady eyes shifting forward and back, hesitant. Then all at once, its head turned, its mandibles snapped shut and it loped away, cutting a broad swathe through a thicket.

"Nicely done. You were smart getting that thing to fight for us," Revan said. "When it comes to choosing allies, I'd choose a giant insect over Sandor any day. That Chiss is a lousy shot. Unless he was trying to kill me, in which case, he's a mediocre shot."

Shira grinned. It was hard as hell getting a compliment from Revan, so when you earned it, you were sure to cherish it.

"So, what now, Rev? I know you've been hatching some kind of plan for us, if only so we can get away from all this rain."

Revan paused, his hood slipping back until she could see the furrows worry dug into his forehead. "Good question. I've been trying to come up with something that doesn't involve admitting defeat and running away. After a disaster like this, the Chiss won't give us any more troops."

He paused, nervously licking his lips. She'd never seen him so obviously unsure of himself. It was almost endearing.

"Do you like taking your life into your hands, Shira?" Revan asked. "If we go ahead with this, things are going to get – risky. Personally, I think I need to do it. I can't see this mission fail.

"You don't have to come if you don't want to. You can wait here. T3 will repair the ship. If I'm not back by the time he's done, fly without me. Go home."

She was suddenly very aware of the silver chain around her neck, the one Atton had given her so long ago. It felt cold and sweet against her skin, like the falling rain, like the chill of evening descending upon them. Her hands reached up and unclasped the chain. She slipped it into her pocket.

"If you're going, Revan, then I'm going too. Two exiles, right? We'll do this together."

"Now you will see them, my mighty brethren, the True Sith," the ancient guardian announced, as they approached the black gates. "It is an honor to serve them."

With a sweep of his arm, the gates swung open.

"After you," the creature said.

"Thanks," Atton muttered, feeling anything but thankful.

He stepped through the passage, feeling the True Sith's beady black eyes upon him. He was trying to keep his head about him, but as he moved past the gateway, he could sense something black, something evil leeching onto him. He imagined it as a blob of sludge, wrapping oily tentacles around his limbs, sucking at his flesh, opening its toothless mouth to swallow him whole. He pushed back the feeling and tried to re-focus his mind on something else, anything else, on watching the smoke ascend in thick clouds, on counting the number of footsteps he took.

The little creature scurried ahead of him, parting the smoke with his hands as though it was a grey curtain.

"Look! Look at them. Do you see? They have been waiting."

Atton's voice stayed level, perfectly monotone, but his eyes widened in disbelief. "Yeah, I see them."

He saw them - circles and circles and circles of small, perfect bones, thousands and thousands of skeletons carefully arranged in concentric rings that led inexorably to a marble plinth, where a black obelisk jutted to the clouds. Each skull was polished to gleaming white, each mouth set in a ghastly grin, each set of empty eyes fixed on him as though the True Sith were waiting for a formal introduction.

Atton shuddered. It was as if he had just stepped into the cold shadow of something so enormous, so terrifying that he couldn't comprehend it, could barely recognize its existence.

"You see them, but you do not see what they represent," the guardian whispered, his voice taking on a strange fervor. "You think they are dead, that they cannot harm you without their weak, mortal bodies. I tell you that they are strong. Through the Ritual, they have cast off the individual flesh and become One Mind, One Spirit, One Power, a force potent enough to alter the galaxy, even usurp the power of the Force itself."

Atton's eyes were still fixed on the bones, spread out over miles of glassy black earth. He wasn't going to show any fear. If it came down to it, he wanted to go out defiant, laughing at the Force and its whims as though he was in on the joke.

"They're gonna change the galaxy? Not too shabby for a bunch of fossils," he said. "What are they going to do? Run for the Senate? Hey, they'd fit right in."

"Do you always babble such nonsense when you are afraid?" The creature's shriveled face became even more puckered in his displeasure. It reminded Atton of Kreia, although even the True Sith were nicer than that old scow.

"I'm not afraid. I'm just bloody confused. I'm not used to having conversations with corpses."

The guardian sighed. "I tell you, it is the false Sith, the Republic pretenders, or brutish fools like Asmortis and his followers who cling to the flesh and contend for the worthless illusion of individual power. Their petty lords rule but briefly and die, each striving for his own gain which in the end, will be his loss, his destruction, the death of power. It is only in relinquishing the body that we find the Great Body of Sith, in disposing of the passions that we find the One Passion, in giving up individual force that we embrace the Truth of Sith, a power which may encompass even the Force itself."

"You win points for style, but I'm not buying the philosophical mumbo-jumbo," Atton sneered. "I'd prefer to go back to the physical torture, if you don't mind. It hurts a hell of a lot less than listening to this bantha crap."

"I am educating you for a reason, human. If you are chosen, if you are worthy to be a vessel, you will enact part of the grand design, at least so long as you live to play your part. It is the greatest beauty, a theater that will last forever, a passion play that will challenge the Force and its fruitless balance or the dull Jedi quest for stasis in a galaxy that begs for change. Long after the bodies of tomorrow's heroes and villains rot away, we will still find our puppets and we will play."

"And no one can destroy the True Sith because they're already dead? That's the big idea?"

"It is easy to oppose the visible, the threat one sees cloaked in flesh. It is more difficult to contend with the unseen, the power that manipulates the galaxy as nimbly as the Force itself. Jedi and the Sith pretenders will fight one another, claiming small, useless victories, believing the galaxy is their battleground, when indeed, it is their stage and they act upon our whim. If the elders choose you, you will be among the honored ones who bring our influence to the Republic. A high honor, petty human, one I do not think you deserve."

"Yeah, you're probably right," Atton smirked. "I'm not worthy. Better put me back where I came from. Don't want to besmirch the good Sith name."

"Your humility is false but pleasing," the creature said. "Do not fret. I have no doubt my brethren will find some use for you. We can employ even the basest of materials. Why we even made use of an old Corellian spacer and his servile Chiss idiot! In any case, I shall leave the final decision to my people, the glorious Dead. Proceed along the path to the circle's center."

"And if I don't?"

"Then I shall lift you up and set you in the place. Do you doubt I can do it?"

"Since you're offering, why not? I'm feeling lazy today."

"Very well."

Atton concentrated on resisting the True Sith's power and for the moment at least, it did seem that his feet would stay planted on the ground.

The little creature stared at him, grinding its rotted teeth. "Very good. Stronger than I anticipated. It is a sign of some promise."

Atton was smart enough not to answer with a wisecrack this time, even though he could feel potential responses lining up in a secret corner of his mind, pounding fists at the back of his throat, demanding to be let out. He bit his tongue hard, hard enough to draw blood, and tried to focus on the pain. He wanted to fight, he wanted to kill, but if he let his mind wander towards the subject, he knew the battle would be over before it had begun. He had to tap into the discipline he knew he could exercise, the resistance that would save his life once again.

The pazaak cards were set on the table and the game was ready to begin. The deck shuffled itself, the numbers re-arranging into wins and losses, blue and white, blue and white, blue and white and red. He could play this game forever or until the True Sith crumbled to dust, whatever happened first. The minutes passed along with the games lost and won. He might be a damned fool like everybody said, but he was a persistent one and that had to count for something.

Unfortunately, as he was congratulating himself on all this self-restraint, his focus broke for just a moment. It was simply a second, the blink of an eye, but it was long enough.

The True Sith hoisted him into the air as though he was made of rags and hurled him towards the center of the circle.

Propelled towards the black obelisk, Atton thought for one feverish second that he would die, that his head would smash against the stone and dash his brains out. But just as his body was about to collide with the monument, he jerked to a halt in mid-air. The True Sith placed him down on the ground gingerly, delicately, smiling all the while with his little corn kernel teeth.

"I must bid you farewell now," he said. "It has been a sincere pleasure. My brethren will take good care of you. I promise it."

The True Sith turned and hobbled away, as Atton felt the shadows latch on to him, the evil thoughts swarming in like locusts. They had a plan for him, a purpose for him much more terrifying and insidious than any Force bond.

He had to believe he could resist it.