Fear. Eagerness. Pain.

Something changed, I could feel it. Somewhere deep inside myself. The bright flame that freezes any who would abandon its warmth. It flickered, weak still, as years upon years of training fought against the emotions that would feed the heat within me.

I wanted this. Wanted it so badly it hurt every time the heat withdrew, each shiver of chill at its absence repudiated my every claim of strength.

I screamed, writhed against the pain, wished in my weakness that I'd never agreed to this, no, -asked- for this. But underneath the horror and disgust I still felt that flickering of warmth, the comforting strength that would slide away from me if I tried to grasp it, but grew stronger through my pain and anger and fear.

And deeper still, my heart stayed firm. I would take this power for myself, whatever the cost. Revan tried to show me, but was too afraid to go as far as I needed. I wasn't strong enough to simply choose her path unaided, and she refused to see that.

This pain, this relentless unending assault against my every belief and strength, this was what I needed. Malak's voice, taunting and teasing, tearing apart my faith in the Jedi way, even as he relentlessly seared the understanding and acceptance of my anger into me with relentless agony; -this- is what Revan couldn't have done. She would have talked, endlessly. Debated, cajoled, but never forced her truth on me.

Malak had no such restraint.


I woke in my own bunk, drenched in sweat, my heart already racing in near-panic. My connection to Bastila had returned to full strength sometime during the night. I knew instinctively that once again I could turn blindly and point toward her exact location, without error despite the lightyears between us.

But that did us no good, deep in hyperspace, moving farther and farther away from her. We were en route to Korriban, and while that was a Sith world it was not anywhere near where Malak held Bastila and Juhani.

Wherever they were had to be within six or so hours of where we'd been, but where we'd been was nowhere. T3 had the hardest time placing us during our escape from Leviathan mostly because we were past the edge of commonly charted space.

They would be on the Star Forge's world, I felt certain. I could picture it so clearly, but we needed hyperspace coordinates and pathing, and that I did not remember. Only by finding Malak's great weapon would we find his innermost stronghold, where he would be most confident of his security and most assured of his unassailability, there we would find Bastila and Juhani. And, of course, Malak himself.

I would relish the moment of destroying him. Even if it relied completely on trickery and betrayal, even if it was a suicidal rush to destruction whose only end was our mutual death. Whatever the cost, I no longer cared. I would destroy Malak, because only then could I be secure. Only then could I reclaim what was mine.

Bastila is her own, I told myself. She doesn't belong to me, she can choose to leave and not be forced to return.

The words felt empty and meaningless compared to the insistent tug within my soul. The certainty of where she was, the vibrant echo of her pain and torment as her deepest self was slowly and insidiously twisted into a new shape. I had to watch, couldn't look away, felt it echo through me every moment as it occurred. Only when Malak left her - infrequently, his hours of sleep irregular, his returns unannounced and unable to prepare for - was I able to relax, the echoed tension easing slowly and reluctantly from my own body.

But Juhani was worse. I wasn't tied to her nearly as strongly as to Bastila, yet she was undoubtedly facing the same trials as Bastila. But she had never chosen this path, and she faced them alone. I couldn't comfort her, our bond only sufficient to relay the basic fact of each others' continued existence. Thoughts and feelings didn't transmit, only the knowledge of her life.

Bastila was strong, I had no doubt that she would emerge from his torments only stronger still. She may give in, but she would not break. Juhani very well might. She was younger, more extreme in her stances. She had bent, but now she would surely be shattered.

I could only watch the earnest young cathar's bright core slowly fade, worn away by unseen and unknown assaults, and I could do nothing for her at all.

I couldn't bear it. It was too much, so I turned to the only thing that could possibly satisfy the restless horror of those hours. The only way I knew of to relieve the built up rage and hatred.

Canderous had sealed our prisoner in Juhani's room. It had an external lock, and it was easy enough to override the interior controls to convert it to a perfectly sealed storage area.

I stalked from my room, the ship's quiet hum comforting in its familiarity. The others were in their own rooms, reading or watching holonet recordings or playing games or studying. Bindo was assembling packets of herbs, though I couldn't imagine why, and Canderous seemed to be pacing and practicing a speech.

They mattered nothing to me at present. I had a single purpose in mind, one which would not be denied me.

I gathered Force, pressed it into shape around me to dampen sound around Juhani's small room. Kareth's cell.

I had promised him repayment, and I had no desire to renege on that promise. Lightning gathered at my hands, crushing Force waited for a thought, eager fire built within me. Vengeance was at hand, only the very beginning of it, but justice nonetheless.

I opened the door.

Kareth sat beyond, quite composed and relaxed, defiling Juhani's room with his vile presence. But I had nowhere else to put him, this room was the closest thing to a secure hold the Ebon Hawk could offer.

I stepped inside, remotely locked the door behind me. If I had been other than myself, less than a master of Force and blades, I might have felt a tiny bit of concern at entering a prisoner's cell alone in such a manner.

Not this time. A sharp eagerness rose at the thought, I would welcome his feeble attempts to escape. It would give me more excuse than I needed.

"You have come, Revan," he said mockingly, not looking up. "I thought you had forgotten me."

"You are unworthy of the darkest hole in the galaxy," I hissed. Lightning flicked out in quick sparks, licking against his arms and face before returning to play about my hands.

Kareth didn't flinch. "I have told you, Lord Malak is not so gentle as you nor I. You cannot hope to succeed. Nothing one such as you could do to me will match the retaliation at my master's hand should I betray him to you."

"I need nothing from you but agony." I stepped closer, letting the lightning surge around us. Light, sharp, nowhere close to lethal. "And I am in no hurry."

He gave a quiet snort of almost laughter. "You play at darkness almost convincingly, were I not so intimately acquainted with its true power. No, Revan, I know you too well. You will always hold back a part of yourself, unwilling to surrender that illusion of control that you cling to so desperately. That is why Lord Malak has already won. That is why nothing you do can break me. And that is why you will be left alone, your friends turned against you by nothing more than their ability to go where you cannot and do what you refuse to consider."

"You're wrong," I said. "Whatever Malak does to them, we will remain true to each other. That is where the Jedi are wrong. Love is stronger than light, stronger than dark. Together—"

"But you are not together, are you?" Kareth said. He tried to ignore the lightning, but involuntary twitches showed that I was at least producing some effect. "You will never find them on time. Lord Malak has learned much since Malachor. He took the idea from you, took it farther than your weakness would permit. There is an art to destroying Jedi, to tearing away their precious codes and devotion. To the Light, or to you, it doesn't matter. In the end, they'll belong only to Lord Malak and the darkness."

"Enough words." I gritted my teeth and raised my hands, consciously forcing the lightning directly into him. If my playing produced so little effect, let him face true fury. "Time for you to scream."

Once I actually put my mind to the task, it didn't take long at all.


Once my energy and fury was spent, I returned to my room to attempt proper rest. I lay restlessly, discontent even in the brief moments when I managed to sleep at all. As satisfying as it had been to return pain upon Kareth, vengeance rang hollow against the absence of my students. Bastila's thoughts were weary and unstable, her consciousness flickering in and out.

She didn't reply to my attempts to speak to her through our bond. And as much as I wanted to send her comfort and strength, I had none to offer. It felt as though any certainty of hope or resolve had been drained away.

We lay in the depths of a vast void, silence and pain our only companions. I had nothing else. I couldn't encourage her any more than she could encourage me. Though I knew now she wouldn't have tried. She believed she'd moved past me, but I was still connected to her too intimately for us to truly go our separate ways. This bond was far too strong for either of us to break.

And as much as I hated knowing exactly what she was going through, I still treasured that connection. Even if she had moved on, I had never chosen to let her go. Even if it brought me only anguish, if that was all she could offer, I couldn't bring myself to turn away.

I felt empty, lost, alone. I needed Bastila, but she was gone. I needed someone. I prowled the ship restlessly, missing something that couldn't be replaced. T3 monitored the hyperspace travel, but we were still days away from Korriban.

Bindo was a Jedi, whatever his protests about 'balance' and neutral alignments. Mission and Sasha were asleep. T3 wasn't alive. Zaalbar wasn't human.

Canderous sat in the workshop, tinkering with the prototype vibroblade I'd given him a few lifetimes ago. He glanced up, gave a respectful nod in greeting as I approached.

"Finish practicing your speech?" I asked.

He chuckled. "Ever the perceptive one, Revan." He pretended not to notice my cracked and feeble voice, and I pretended not to care.

"What are you hoping to do with the blade now?" I asked, hoping some shop-talk would distract my mind from the emptiness and apathy that tried to consume me.

"The vibro-cell was aligned well for a standard weapon, but this blade actually has a dual weave. Cortosis isn't the strongest metal, so it needs to be alloyed to hold up in a fight. Pretty standard these days, but this blade has yet another layer. I think the vibration resonance could be improved, if I can figure out the core type."

I nodded. "Sounds about right."

He returned to his work, and I fell into silence. He moved with methodical care, seeming not at all self-conscious about me watching.

"Can you tell me more about the war?" I asked. "From your perspective?"

His hands stilled. "It was the most glorious fight I ever had the honour of participating in," he said quietly, almost reverently. "The chance to go up against the Jedi Revan directly, against you, is one that no generation before or after will ever match or surpass, I think."

He spoke on, calm and gruff and confident, telling stories with the voice of a leader. I listened, his words soothing. His voice started fading in and out, words approaching meaninglessness. I slumped forward, rested my head on the worktable, unable to keep my eyes open or attention focused any longer.

I couldn't say when he stopped speaking. I only vaguely noticed as he gathered me in his arms and carried me like a child back to my room, gently tucking my blankets around me as I finally properly slept.


I soon fell into a pattern for the remainder of our hyperspace trip to Korriban. During the 'day' I joined Kareth in his cell, channeling the fear and hatred that I felt at Malak's unrelenting assault on Bastila into my endless vengeance.

True to his word, Kareth never broke. True to mine, I never cared.

It's amazing the kind of strength required to keep channeling lightning more than a few minutes at a time. Had I not been well past the point of caring about such meager things as exhaustion and pain by then I might have given up and found a different pastime.

Instead I grew strong, sharp, focused. I pushed myself so far beyond my shallow former power that I began to wonder how I had lived with such a weak connection to the Force. If I couldn't even maintain a constant attack for more than a few minutes, what else couldn't I do strongly enough?

Through Bastila's mind I learned directly from Malak, turned his attacks on her mind and body into a fire that burned within me ever hotter and stronger.

Then Malak would leave Bastila, and I would leave Kareth, and I'd go sit with Canderous. He had stories of war, of exploration, of simple life. And he understood my drive, never tried to dissuade me from my course. I could tell him what I had done, tell him what I yet planned to do. He understood the necessities of war. And though he didn't understand exactly what my struggle with the Force was about, he didn't care. He even said it; "Light side, Dark side, it doesn't make any difference to me. You're Revan, and I'll follow you anywhere."

He was stable, unwavering. When I cried and railed against Malak, when I felt I couldn't bear this any longer, he would stand silently and hold me, just offering his strength. When I sat burning with self-loathing for what I was doing, knowing I wouldn't change Bastila's or Juhani's fate the slightest by hurting Kareth in turn, he calmly assured me that he understood or offered a quiet story from his past to bring my mind away from the ever-looming pit of apathy and despair that waited to consume me.

I held no illusions about Kareth. If he got free, if I showed a moment of weakness, he'd kill us all in our sleep and then go join Malak in making Bastila and Juhani suffer for our impertinence. I would not let that happen.

So my days passed in restless fire and undying hatred, my nights in Canderous's company to hold back the silent fear, and we flew ever farther from my Sisters and ever closer to Korriban.