Disclaimer: All rights belong to Disney, George Lucas, and all the men and women that created the Star Wars movies, books, and comics. I take no credit, and I do not mean to break any copyright rules. This is simply a work of fiction made for enjoyment. No money is being made. The cover art image belongs to peanutbutterroastedchestnuts. tumblr .com (remove the spaces)

Rating: T for violence, disturbing imagery, and dark themes

Author's Note: There is one more chapter after this one, and then we're at the end. I apologize in advance for any emotional damage this causes

Chapter 28

Outer Rim Territories, Unknown Region, Murkhana System, 34 BBY

I drop down from the rooftops silently, the bottoms of my shoes making only a small thud against the dirt road. The thugs don't even hear me coming.

As they continue their assault of the poor guy trying to get home from his work, I sneak up from behind, grabbing one around the neck and downing him quickly and silently. The others don't even notice, so wrapped up in their beating.

But when I pull out my lightsaber and spin in, they do take notice. That's all they have time for before I dispose of them quickly.

The looks in their eyes are the same as almost all thugs I've encountered recently - recognition, and fear. The criminals in this city, on this planet, in this galaxy, fear me. They know my name. They know the rumors.

And now they know the justice.

I help the man who was being beaten up without a word. He says something in a language I don't speak, but I know it's a thank you. I only nod in acknowledgement before taking off to clear another street, to save another life.

Five years have passed in a similar and repetitive fashion. I travel from planet to planet, spending a few days helping to clean up the streets at night, protecting those when they lose all hope. During the day I blend in and meet others, sampling all the different activities and foods and basically immersing myself into the culture until it's time to move on to the next planet. It's an exciting life, one I've thrown myself into wholeheartedly.

My old legacy as Minerva has long since faded away, now just an old fable twisted beyond recognition. Replacing the fear and terror of her, there's now hope and relief in hearing stories of Nisha Alyx, the night warrior. Although I never meant for this, I've become a symbol of hope and justice for people in the galaxy to look up to. In light of the Jedi's recent and ever-increasing series of failures, I am the beacon of hope that people hold on to.

After years of being feared, being loved by everyone is a welcome change. It's nice being accepted for doing something I love doing. Being able to pass on life lessons and wisdom to others opens so many doors, and I feel like I'm helping make this galaxy a better place. It's refreshing from my days of destruction and darkness.

Not everyday is easy, though. There are still days the darkness surrounds me and presses into me and I feel as though I'm never going to get a break. I just have to remind myself to let it all fall away. Connect to the Force and clear my mind. I can't just sit in the suffering and let it swallow it up. I have to fight against it, constantly pushing and shoving to free myself.

KZ-4 and I are closer than ever. Without all the baggage I once carried around, I'm free to express myself honestly and personally. He, in turn, isn't scared of trading insults or making sassy comebacks. It's refreshing to have a friend to confide in about everything, especially one who doesn't judge me and won't ever let me down.

He's always at my side these days. We embark on all of our adventures together. KZ is almost as famous as I am; more people prefer to talk to him than me, sometimes. Although he is constantly outwardly protesting all the attention, I know he's secretly enjoying every second of it. I don't begrudge him it in the least. It's only fair he should get some of the spotlight since I avoid it at all costs.

Speaking of getting the spotlight, we're in a popular bar on the planet Murkhana. Sentients from all different planets have settled on this Outer Rim planet, and it seems every single one of them has heard of me. They're all trading stories of me, even though many of them are stretched or definitely like fiftieth-hand accounts. Regardless, I nod and laugh along as if I remember exactly what they're saying.

"You know, Nisha," an Aqualish says, taking a seat on a bar stool next to mine, joining the throng of fans, "you saved my third cousin on Ando. He won't stop talking about how awesome you are."

I give a polite smile. "I'm just trying to make this a better place," I reply, turning to face another sentient, this time a Chagrian.

"I'm a huge fan of KZ," she gushes, leaning down to rub my droid's dome with her blue skinned hand. "You're okay, too."

"Thanks...I guess?" KZ thrums under her touch, and I get a smug impression from him. I love him to death, but he might just be the pettiest droid in the universe.

A Gossam sidles up, her extra long neck gracefully curving in to speak quietly into my ear. "There's a handsome young man waiting on the city outskirts for you," she tells me, a scandalous smile on her face. I roll my eyes; it's probably just another crazy follower. I've encountered my fair share of them.

"Oh, Tangi," I laugh, setting my glass down on the wooden bar. "You know there's only one man in my life." I pat KZ-4 affectionately and he hums under my touch proudly.

She waves her small, circular face with her hands. "You say that now, but you haven't seen him yet. Even for a human he's quite attractive."

A grin doesn't leave my face. "You're trying to set me up, aren't you?" I accuse lightly, waving at the bartender to fill my glass up again. "I prefer to not associate myself with men. Not anymore."

"He insisted that seeing you is very important. Apparently your life is in danger." Tangi's face turns serious. "I don't think this is just some crazed fan." She pauses for a moment before forging on. "And I do worry about you. You've made a lot of enemies in your line of work. Dangerous enemies. One day someone is going to catch up to you."

"They won't get rid of me so easily," I promise her. "And if I die, it will be up to the will of the Force."

Tangi rings her hands, almost nervously. "I don't know anything about how the Force works," she admits, a forced laugh escaping her lips. "But I pray it's on your side."

"Me too," I agree, and I bow slightly to her out of respect after I slide off my stool. KZ-4 extracts himself from the crowd of his admirers and we head out in the direction Tangi had sent me.

I arrive at the edge of the city, but I don't see anyone. Maybe they left already. I guess whatever it is it isn't as urgent as Tangi had made it sound. She does fuss over me quite a bit, and sometimes exaggerates things. I don't mind; we've been friends ever since I saved her four years ago, and in return for her safety she became almost like a motherly figure to me.

I'm about to head back when I hear the voice behind me. "Nyx?"

My breath catches in my throat. My body freezes. Inside, my mind is spinning a million miles an hour. Images and memories I'd long since suppressed and let go come rushing back. My wrists, still laced up tightly with leather braces like they have been for over five years, tingle slightly. And even my lips remember one careless night when the world had been forgotten but for two young people.

The sound of footsteps approaching from behind set me back into the present and I manage to relax my posture, turning around casually and setting an amiable smile upon my face.

Only one person calls me by that nickname.

And I've been avoiding that one person for the past five years.

"Obi-Wan," I greet tight-lipped. He steps fully out of the shadows, his visible features expressionless. He's aged many years in only five, it seems. "I didn't think I'd ever see you again."

"I wouldn't have come if it wasn't of the utmost importance," he states, his face still half-hidden in the shadows from his long hood.

"I am more than able to take care of myself, but thanks for your concern." Although my responses are clipped and short, I'm not still upset at him and Qui-Gon. I've let it pass. Seeing him here, though, after all these years...honestly, I hadn't been expecting it in the least, and I'm not sure exactly how to act.

One side of his mouths curls up in a small smile. "I've noticed," he remarks, his arms still unmoving as they are clasped in front of him. "You're a hero. Protecting the weak, cleaning up the dark alleys and streets, and befriending everyone you meet. Maybe it is best you went your own way those years ago."

"I'm only where I am now because of my experiences," I admit, acknowledging his and Qui-Gon's effect on my life. "It took a disaster for me to realize what I needed to do in order to connect with the Force fully. To reach serenity."

"That's more than some of us can say," he replies wryly. "And...about what happened five years ago - we don't hold it against you. In fact, Qui-Gon and I both recognize that we said and did things we regret."

"I've let it go," I dismiss, waving my hand through the air. "Serenity is an incredulous thing. It shows a pathway to new things. And you weren't the only one in the wrong that day. I should have explained things better and told my side of the story. But it's in the past now. It doesn't matter anymore."

Obi-Wan nods in agreement. "What I came to warn you about is important and does matter, though. We shouldn't discuss it here. Why don't you and KZ come and join Qui-Gon and I for a little while? We'll explain everything."

Though I'm a little wary, I concede. Things will never be the same as they were once between us, but at least we can make amends. They still are the closest thing I've ever had to friends, and these last few years have always been missing something: Obi-Wan's dry humor and Qui-Gon's positive yet realist aura. Their wisdom and their actions made a big impact on my life. Although I let go of all my attachments, there has always been an empty place in my heart for them.

He takes me to a shady bar, one quite unlike the bar I had been at. The sentients here aren't friendly in the least; in fact, they're the kind of scum I persecute. Knowing my face will probably only get me involved in a brawl, I draw my hood up to cover my features.

Qui-Gon is seated at a small table in a dark corner, slightly shielded from the main room. Obi-Wan and I slip in the seats across from him, and I note the grimy surface of the table. They really couldn't have picked a better table to be sit at.

When the Jedi Master looks up, the first thing I notice is how, like his Padawan, much he has aged over the last five years. The wrinkles in his skin have deepened and his eyes seem timeless and old.

"I'm glad you decided to come," he says. Is his voice deeper than before? More hoarse? Or am I imagining things?

"I trust you wouldn't have come if it wasn't urgent," I answer, leaning back and crossing my arms. "So shoot."

"Someone is following you," Qui-Gon explains, leaning forward and steepling his fingers. "We were sent to track a strange starship a few months back. We've been following it for a while, and two weeks ago we started to have suspicions. We now know that they were right - whoever is inside that starship is tracking you. He follows you to every planet you visit, and he stays close behind you on every turn."

I incline my head slightly forward in a nod. "I know. He's been following me for a year now."

Obi-Wan frowns. "Do you know who he is?"

"I have my suspicions, but I don't know for certain. I don't care to know, either. He has never tried to approach me so I've left him alone." The two Jedi exchange looks. "What? Why are you so concerned?"

"I...have suspicions, also," Qui-Gon lets out slowly. "They're not popular opinions, especially not with the Council." He flicks his eyes over at his Padawan, and I see that Obi-Wan is also among those who disagree with him on this matter in the way he looks away and almost imperceptibly rolls his eyes.

"What kind of suspicions?" I press, knowing that while Qui-Gon is often over-the-top, he is right almost as often.

He glances around, then shakes his head. "This is not the place to discuss such matters."

So they brought me here to talk, but it isn't safe enough to talk here? A typical Jedi move.

But it's troubling that the Jedi Knight is taking this so seriously. What kind of threat could be this serious?

"Maybe we should confront him," I muse, my mind going into hyperdrive. "We'll see what he's up to and why he's following me."

"Are you sure?" Obi-Wan questions, jumping back into the conversation. "What if he's dangerous?"

A wicked smile grows on my lips. "Then we'll just have to show him how dangerous we are. As I recall, the three of us make a pretty good team."

Under the table, I hear beeps of protest. "Let me rephrase," I correct, smiling down at an emerging KZ. "The four of us make a pretty good team."

As we stride out of the bar like those slow-motion scenes in movies, out robes fluttering like fashion models and our faces fierce - except KZ, he's just kind of rollin' with it - I can't help but feel uneasy. Something in the Force is prodding me, warning me off. Me, being me, ignores it. I'd felt this way once before, five and a half years ago on Dathomir, and nothing bad had come from it.

"Where did you see his ship land?" I inquire, and they silently lead me towards an area a few miles out from the main city. Amongst the jungle ruins I see the sun glinting off of a large, metal object.

"Strange," I say aloud, but really, I'm not talking about the starship. Something in the Force is oddly familiar, like reuniting with an old friend, and it seems as though it's calling to me.

That's when the door to the starship opens and a black-robed figure exits, the metal handle of a lightsaber clasped tightly in his fist.

"That's no Jedi," Obi-Wan observes, his voice wary.

"Maybe a dark Jedi," I offer, watching as the figure strides towards us. "Or just another Force-user. I've encountered my share of them in my travels." But the bad feeling in the pit of my stomach dramatically deepens.

None of us quite believe the words coming out of my mouth, but we don't try to argue or disprove them. Instead we let our hands wander to our lightsaber handles and rest on top of them gently, ready to pull out and ignite at a moment's notice.

The hooded figure approaches from the other side of the stone ruins, and from the way he walks it is almost as if he's a predator, stalking his his prey. A flash of orange peeks out from beneath his shrouded face, and I suddenly know exactly who he is. And I know why the Force is blaring warnings at me.

It's only when he flicks on his lightsaber that I realize the true depths of the situation.

"This is personal," I tell the two Jedi next to me, my mind made up. Without even thinking about it I get my own weapon out, turning on the white and black blades. "You should go."

"We're not leaving you," Obi-Wan says stubbornly as he mirrors my actions with his own blue lightsaber.

Although Qui-Gon doesn't say anything, he makes eye-contact and nods, showing his support. I turn back to the threat at hand. "Okay. But that's your choice. And you may not like how this ends."

"It ends the way the Force wills it to end," Qui-Gon replies serenely, and I sense he knows the outcome of this battle, just as I do.

Rushing across the clearing and through the maze of ruins, I take the offensive, spinning my blades in tandem as I wield them like an extension of myself. The mysterious figure raises his ruby lightsaber to parry my blow, and even as I'm twirling again to slice forward he's right on top of all my attacks. We're equally matched as we fight, sparks hissing up from the clashing of our blades.

Red against black. Red against white. Red is the color of blood, the color of anger, and betrayal, and fear. Red is the color of manipulation, the color or the lies that spill out from red lips. Red is the color of pain, and of suffering. Red is what I saw when my father abused my mother, and my siblings killed themselves, and red is the color of the tide that poured out from my skin when I scraped a name on that unmarked gravestone. Red is the color of the fire that burned across my skin when my old master and I fought on Moraband. Red is the color of the witches on Dathomir. Red is the color of death and destruction.

Many people are of the opinoin that black is the color of the dark side. They're wrong. Red is. Red is the color of their lightsabers, of their hearts, and of their entire beings. Red is the color of the rage and hate within them, and the color of the things they will do to get what they want. Red is the color of power and of their futures.

Black is instead the color of mourning. Black is the color of a melancholy pain, of sorrowful moments. Black is the color of hopelessness. Black is the color of hiding, and of the empty abyss inside your heart when you're lonely. Black is the color of shadows in which we hide our secrets so as to not burden others. Black is the color of despair, of heartbreak. Black is the color of last things, of endings.

And white. White is the color of purity, of honesty. White is the color of beginnings and bright new things. White is the color of fresh starts. White is the color an empty canvas in which to make a masterpiece on. White is the color of truth, of honor, of nobility. White is the color of new horizons. White is the color of hope.

Though his red lightsaber cuts against my white and black ones, red is no match for dark and light together. The red stains the white but the black changes the red.

Red had once been my color. In fact, the very lightsaber he's using is the one I made years ago as an eleven-year-old. The name on it is scratched out but not eradicated; and in the Force, I still feel my presence on it. Though he may wield it, it is not his, nor will it ever be his.

I know it is Maul, son of Talzin, that I am facing. He's the new Sith apprentice. But he lacks the intelligence and the creativity that I had, and that I still have. He's brainwashed by the promises of power and anything else he could ever want. Sidious always had a way with words, and it's not surprising that he has the Zabrack under his control. I had just always hoped he might resist, to rebel like I did.

He's strong, though. I may have experience on my side, but he has raw strength, a kind of power I will never have. I've always relied on speed rather than brute force, but he's the complete opposite. My speed does not help me in this battle, though; he has been following me for over a year, learning how I fight and discovering my weaknesses. He knows more about me than I know about myself. He's a good study, albiet not a very quick one.

Even as he's pressing me down two more blades join the fight; one green and one blue. They clash against the red, opposites in every way.

Green is the color of the lush trees and rolling plains. Green is the color of rebirth and revival. Green is the color of the meadows where we danced upon as children; green is the color of happiness and joy, of childlike innocence and curiosity. Green is the color of life and vitality, of rebuilding and of vivid life.

And blue. Blue is the color of the skies in the morning, and the color of the seas below. Blue is the color of the songbirds at dawn, and color of calming streams. Blue is the color of infinite patience and of uncontrolled and unconstrained waters. But blue is also the color of raging waters and of driving rain; it is the color of strength and the color of wisdom.

And red doesn't have a chance against all of those colors at once. Maul realizes this as we push him back. He's not a complete animal, though; he knows enough to identify the problem and take care of it.

Feinting left and then jabbing right, he throws Qui-Gon off balance while using his free hand to grab Obi-Wan with the Force and send him flying backwards. Then he exchanges blows with me while using the Force to hold Qui-Gon in place. Knowing that he will not be able to maintain the connection with a Jedi Master fighting against him, Maul throws him over towards his apprentice, and the two collide in a heap.

I'm still more than a fair match for him, though. Much of his fighting style has been incorporated from mine. We're at a stand-still it seems; we both knew each other's weaknesses and strengths, and we both exploit each other while trying to connect to the Force at the same time.

But Maul is persevering and determined, and I am not as fit as I once was, and I haven't had a foe so skilled in years. Five years, to be exact. Hunting down the common criminal has made my finer skills rusty, while Maul is obviously freshly trained and eager to please his master.

And he knows my biggest weakness.

While lashing out with his lightsaber he reaches forward into the Force and then starts forward with his free hand. Thinking he's going for my throat, I prepare to defend myself by lifting my hand - and instead he wraps his cold, red fingers around my wrist and twists, catching me off guard and straining my permanently damaged joint. Old pains arise, and I twist violently, struggling to get out of his grasp. But the Force is with him, and he uses a surge of the extra strength to add power to his hold as he twists my wrists into an unnatural form. Pain bubbles up within me, and dark spots dance around my vision, but I resist the urge to succumb to the hurt. I've suffered worse before.

Instead I narrow my eyes and deliver him a solid, Force-supported kick to his stomach. He stumbles backwards a few feet, his eyes flaring up in rage.

"You are very cunning," he hisses, speaking for the first time. "My master warned me about your skill in manipulation. You play the part of being weak, yet really you are strong."

"The only manipulation I deal in is the one you make up in your own mind," I reply coldly. "Do not judge someone based on what you see. Looks are deceiving, and your eyes do you the most damage."

"But you are weak," he continues, not backing down. "You were weak to walk away from infinite power. The dark side scared you, and you ran."

"I could say you were weak for falling for Sidious' lies," I counter, "but we both know he is the ultimate liar. His words are like honey to the desperate."

Before he can reply we both hear the sounds of the two Jedi reviving, and Maul knows that his window of opportunity is short. Taking action, he starts lunging after me again, his red blade a flurry of whooshes and color. Although I manage to form counterattacks and blocks, his abrupt attack had taken me off guard, and I still can't seem to get my rhythm back.

Then he uses his strength against me; he pushes against my blade and keeps pushing, and even though I use the Force to push back he is still stronger. Our blades are pressing close to my chest and my face and I'm leaning back, so far as to lose my balance…

There's the sound of beeping and the crackle of electricity. Maul jumps back as if he's been shocked - and, judging by KZ-4's sassy response, it seems as though he really was electrocuted. While it had saved me temporarily, I still barely have time to throw up my lightsaber in a defensive position as Maul, now irritated and angry, thrusts forward.

He doesn't aim for me, though. I realize at the last second, my heart dropping into my chest, that he's going for my droid.

It only takes one second - one second that lasts forever - for the red fire to cut through green and gold and off-white. My beloved companion, my ever-snarky but ever-present droid, my best friend who has saved me time after time, is sliced in half.

I had been so careful to not make any attachments but to him. And right before my eyes, KZ-4 is destroyed.

Anger wells up in me, and another force inside of me rises up. Fighting back, we're locked in another deadly dance as the most dangerous weapons in the galaxy clash together. Sometime during the fight Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan jump back in, but I wish they wouldn't. This fight is personal. I want to kill Maul myself.

No, not kill him; I want to destroy him.

Having them next to me also limits my movement. Several times we run into each other or I get hit with a stray elbow. Somehow Maul never tires and his hood never flies up. He's being careful to not reveal his identity to the Jedi.

It's a losing fight for him. He realizes that after a few minutes. I can see the way he hesitates and starts to only block blows instead of return them. He's making a plan.

I'm only a moment late to understanding what he's about to do, but that split second is all it takes for him to make the action. He flips over the three of us, jumping high enough to be out of range of our lightsabers, then he comes down, kicking out with his two legs, each one throwing off the two Jedi. While they stumble back, he rips my lightsaber out of my hand with the Force and instead cuts forward with his before pulling it back. As he flees back to his ship my lightsaber handle falls to the ground with barely perceptible thuds that I shouldn't be able to hear.

My hand drifts to my stomach on its own while the world seems to spin around me. I hear voices but they sound warped and distant. The sound of a starship firing up and taking off is far too loud, and I resist the urge to cover my ears. The scenery around me blurs together and all my senses seem to shut off.

Then I touch the burning hole in me and my legs buckle beneath me.

My old master had finally succeeded in taking me out of the picture. He had his revenge. There's no way I can survive death again. And there's no way I can survive having my vital organs burned straight through.

This time I don't die alone, though. It doesn't take long for death to take me, but at least I have my two friends by my side. KZ is gone, though, and that upsets me more than anything. That and the fact that I should have had more time. I thought I had decades left to live my life, not five years.

I lived a lifetime in those five years, though. All the places I explored, all the sentients I met - it may have been short but it was fulfilling.

This time when I go, I part from the world with peace and serenity in my heart.