Hapes was a sphere of greens and blues warmed by its distant sun. From orbit its daylit side bled a corona into the blackness of space, as though life from the planet could enrich the void. To Marasiah there seemed something bitterly mocking about it, yet her eyes were drawn to it nonetheless.

This warm life-giving world, finally liberated from the Sith after forty years, would forever be the place where she'd lost her husband and son.

She'd felt Vitor's death through the Force. She hadn't been told about Davek's until later but somehow she'd known even before Jaeger haltingly delivered the blow. It was like receiving a mortal wound and being condemned to live with it, and she knew she had to live with it. For Vitor and Davek's memories. For the Empire they'd built. Most of all for Roan.

She'd always been a soldier. Even after becoming a Jedi, then First Knight and Empress, she'd tried to retain the soldier's virtues of discipline and service and instill them in her sons. She wondered now, in weak moment, whether she'd trained them too well, but she couldn't allow herself to dwell on that. Discipline and service. They were her last defense against overwhelming loss.

For that reason she'd insisted on personally overseeing the post-battle cleanup, even though Jaeger and Briggs had repeatedly offered to handle it. As she stood in Invincible's private briefing room, looking down on the planet, she listened to Briggs' latest update on the super star destroyer's status. She tried to concentrate on his words, even as Hapes kept drawing her attention.

"All things considered, Majesty, this ship did very well," Briggs told her. "We took damage and lost crew, but the Hapans mostly avoided direct engagement with it. As for our other ships…"

"I know, General." Losses were heavy, nearing thirty percent. The Empire hadn't seen a battle that bloody since they'd ousted Veers from Entralla four years back.

"Losses were comparatively lighter for our ground troops. As you know, the defenses around the Chume'Dan were comparatively light."

"Yes. I know." She could hear the hesitation in his every word, and worse, feel his guilt in the Force. Briggs had been right beside Davek when he died and he'd probably never forgive himself for not acting faster. She did what she could for him. "General, I want you to know you've acted commendably on this campaign. You turned Invincible into a fighting force faster than anyone else could have. Even at the worst moment of crisis you acted swiftly, carried out my husband's final orders, and forced the Hapans to sue for peace. I'll make sure you get the honors you deserve for this."

He swallowed. "Thank you, Majesty."

"And I know… There was nothing you could have done to save Davek."

"Thank you, Majesty," he said again.

She hoped he'd come to believe that in time. She hoped she could too.

The grim silence was interrupted by the chime from the door. Even before it opened, Marasiah knew who it would be.

"Thank you, General," she told Briggs. "You can go now, and tell my guests to come."

"Yes, Majesty."

He bowed, turned, and walked out, head slightly bowed by a weight they'd all have to carry for the rest of their lives. When Briggs left Arlen and Allana walked in, and despite the grief in their eyes Marasiah felt a little brightened.

She'd already had time to share their loss with Arlen, but this was the first she'd seen of Allana since before the battle. The Queen of Hapes, like her cousin, was dressed in dowdy Jedi robes that concealed whatever the medics on the surface had done for her leg wound. She moved with the help of a simple metal cane, which she leaned on even as she exchanged a brief embrace with Marasiah.

Then they stepped apart and faced each other, empress and queen. Allana gave her counterpart a more formal bow and said, "The people of Hapes can never repay you for that you've lost here. I can never repay you. Vitor saved my life."

"I know."

"You need to know that when the moment came, he didn't hesitate. If he had, even for a second. Serissa would have killed me. His bravery was… astonishing. He was an amazing Knight."

Allana only knew a part of it. When going through the things her son had brought aboard Invincible, Marasiah had found a trio of data-rods used for simple audio recordings. One was for her, another for Davek, the third for Roan. She'd only listened to her own, but in it Vitor had explained everything: his vision of his own death, his struggles to accept it, and the purpose he'd found after his last conversation with his grandmother. He'd recorded the messages only hours before leaving for Hapes. She could hear the tremor of fear in his voice but also the resolve to die well.

His bravery had brought her to tears. Crying alone in her cabin, she'd thought on those keystones of her life, discipline and service, and knew they alone couldn't have supplied Vitor with his valor. To face death as he had he'd drawn on an inner strength. Marasiah didn't know if she could have done the same.

"Your world is yours now," Marasiah said, looking down at the blue-green glow. "What will you do with it?"

"It's going to take time to decide," Allan said, uncertain. "The damage to Hapes itself, and our other worlds, in very minor. The real damage is to the military. Serissa and most of her top soldiers, including Admiral Vahl, are dead."

"Serissa packed the military with her most fanatic followers," Arlen said evenly, not quite willing to admit their decimation was a good thing.

"What about the Hapan exiles?" asked Marasiah. "Where will they fit into this?"

"Most of them are eager to come home. For the young ones they'll be going to a home they've never seen, and what they've grown up with on New Hapes is very, very different from the original."

"Is it? I understand that Serissa and her fanatics cleared away the old aristocrats. We've cleared them away in turn. Your most stubborn obstacles are gone." If Arlen wasn't willing to say it, she was. "The society you're left with is leaderless, structureless. That can be dangerous. But it can also be an opportunity to start again."

"It's all the more work to do." Allana's smile was faint, tired. "Now that Vitor and Davek are gone, what will happen to the Empire?"

It was such a broad question, begging any number of responses. "There's much to consider. But just as Davek tried to preserve what he saw as his father's legacy, I will preserve Davek's."

Arlen nodded, no condemnation. "What about Roan?"
Marasiah breathed in. "Roan will become Emperor."

"He's very young," said Allana.

"I know, and I'll guide him every step of the way. Davek prepared all along for his sons to succeed him. That's why he made them the face of the Imperial Knights in the public eye."

"He sculpted them to be heroes," Arlen said, with a little reproach this time.

"The Empire needs heroes. It needs strong symbols for its people to aim toward. Most of all, it needs to press ahead to the future. Because Roan is young, he can carry the Empire ahead for decades and still remain vital and strong."

"That's a very heavy burden for him," Allana warned.

"I'll help him carry it. So will all the Imperial Knights."

"It sounds like you've given this a lot of thought," said Arlen.

"I have. And it's my choice to make. The Empire needs to move forward, not look back in regret." It would be difficult. Marasiah would struggle to do it herself.

The finality in her voice made the others pensive. Allana asked, "Have you identified Davek's killers?"

That was another stab to the heart. "Yes. It was a group of Restorationists."

Allana's eyes widened in surprise. "How did they get aboard Invincible?"

Marasiah sighed. Briggs had pursued the investigation with a guilt-driven fervor and uncovered everything. "In the middle of the battle, Invincible recovered a set of escape pods from a destroyed frigate that identified itself as Swordbearer. That was a false ID. It was actually a Restorationist ship that escaped Kovix-589 called Oathkeeper. Its crew seemed to have staged the frigate's destruction with help from the Hapans so their assassins could get aboard." She added, "Based on what Roan told me, the Sith were involved in arranging it."

"Darth Kroan," Arlen supplied. "Formerly Retor of Kuhvult. If I'd killed him back on Balmorra…"

Allana put a hand on his shoulder. "Arlen, don't."

Just thinking of the man could spiral them all down into unescapable regret. Allana had consorted with Retor as Chief of State and never suspected him. Arlen had failed to kill him in battle, and so had Marasiah. Kroan had ultimately been killed not by vengeful old enemies but two young Knights, one Imperial and one Jedi, both hearts free of dark anger. There was a poetry to that, and it gave Marasiah hope for the future. Her son's generation deserved to live free of grudges and murderous spite.

She envied them. Briggs had also identified the group's leader, the one who'd fired the killing shots. Marasiah knew that Korosh Vull had been a Restorationist general and that he was unaccounted for after Kovix-589, but there had been indication he was killed in action and she'd had so many other concerns besides her former friend. She'd never thought he would have done what he'd done.

It was easy to hate Vull for what he'd become. She was glad he'd been killed on Invincible's bridge, because otherwise the temptation would be too strong to execute him painfully herself. Yet sometimes, as mood shifted on grief's unsteady tides, she pitied him too. The Vull she'd flown with on Voidwalker, the man with bravery as unquestionable as his flying skills, had been warped by time and circumstance. Those things changed everyone, and perhaps if things had been slightly different he'd have ended up another ally, like Briggs or Jaeger.

Instead his name would pass into Imperial history as a curse. So would the name Oathkeeper. Marasiah would see to that.

As she continued her conversation with Arlen and Allana, updating the queen on the post-battle cleanup, Marasiah considered the fate of the frigate's surviving crew. Briggs was still uncertain whether they'd all known what Vull was planning, but they'd still played a part in their Emperor's murder. Davek's policy of lenience toward minor Restorationists was completely absolved by their act of regicide. Marasiah had wavered back and forth on the fitting punishment; killing them might make them martyrs, but their prison might also become a sacred place for those lingering fanatics who dreamed of restoring Palpatine's Empire. If they were going to be executed, she'd decided to give the order herself, so that Roan might begin his reign as Empire without blood on his hand.

But as their conversation finished Arlen, somehow reading her distracted thoughts, asked, "What do you plan to do with the other Oathkeepers?"

Marasiah hated how quickly that name was gaining currency. The Voidwalkers deserved to be called after their ship, not these traitors. "They will be punished. Harshly."

She saw the concern on both their faces. Jedi moralism was a good guidepost in most cases, and apparently it had even served Allana while heading a democratic Alliance, but the Empire was a different beast. A strong boot was needed to keep its original demons down.

But Allana, very reasonably, said, "Executing them would make them heroes for anyone with Restorationist sympathies."

"I'm well aware of that, but they are accessories to regicide."

"Then try something original. Publicly condemn them. Sentence them to a lifetime of hard labor, but keep the details secret. Let no one know where they've been sent and make escape impossible."

Marasiah regarded Allana anew. "That's very… pragmatic." For a Jedi, she almost said. "I hope you use that same kind of wisdom when rebuilding Hapes."

She responded with a smile that was very, very tired. "Time will tell."

After Arlen and Allana left her, Marasiah retreated to her temporary cabin aboard Invincible. It was Davek's, but held almost nothing of him. Returning to the family estate on Bastion, full of Davek and Vitor, would be so much harder. When she entered the room, her attention was immediately drawn to the two data-rods she'd left on the bed. She'd given Roan his to listen to. She'd already played hers once; she wasn't sure if she could handle it again. She hadn't known what to do with Davek's. She still didn't. It was a private message from father to son, half a conversation between two men now dead. It wasn't meant for her, but it felt like her last precious bridge to them both.

Desire overcame her. She placed the data rod in a player, sat down on the bed, and listened. It was her son's voice again, his last words she'd ever hear. In the same tone, mixing fear and resolve, he explained the same things about his vision, his doubts, and his final choice.

The end was different and personalized. Marasiah leaned forward, hands clasped together, head bowed. She listened but didn't cry this time as Vitor said, "I know you've always hoped I'd become Emperor after you. I appreciate that, Father, because it's molded me into a better man. Without that I could never do what I'm about to do. But ruling's not my destiny. That's Roan's now, and I hope you and Mother guide him best you can. He's never been as sure of his place as a I was, but he has a place now. He'll rise to what's asked of him. I know that. He's your son, just like I am.

"As for me, my destiny is something else. I'm sorry I can't follow in your path but the Force made it so. I may not be a Jedi but I still follow the Force and I have to go where it guides me. So please, once I'm gone, don't act from grief or anger. Guide the Empire with the same wisdom you've always shown. Without your guiding light I could have never come as far as I have."

His voice faltered a little more at the end, but recovered. "So thank you, Father. You have my gratitude and my love. Whatever challenges you face ahead, take them on bravely, like you always have. I know that once you do, things will work out the way they should.

"I love you, Father. Goodbye."

When it was over Marasiah remained on the bed, not even thinking, just existing in the silence and dark. When she finally rose she took both data-rods, considered them, then found a small container and sealed it tight. She didn't want to throw them away, but didn't want to the temptation to replay them. As Vitor had said, she needed to move forward and do it bravely. She would remember, but move forward. For both of them.

-{}-

Healing was going to take time. Jade was not the only Jedi who'd suffered grievous injuries on the battle at Shedu Maad. The sick bay aboard the Por Dun was full of them. Even Grand Master Lowbacca was strapped in a bed and sedated while confused Imperial medics tried to treat the Wookiee. Jade, whose bed was on the opposite wall of the same room, got some amusement from their fluster. It wasn't much, but she needed some mirth.

The injured were the fortunate ones. The victory had cost the Jedi dearly. Over sixty Knights and Master had been killed. Darth Wyyrlok's dying explosion had rocked the whole Sith Temple marked the end of the fight. By then all of Darth Krayt's minions were finally dead. Only the children had been salvaged.

Jade didn't remember being taken aboard the star destroyer, though Arlen had said the Imperials launched rescue teams as soon as they destroyed the Battle Dragon in orbit. The last thing she recalled before her sick bed was reaching out to touch Wharn's fingertips before Arlen carried her away. It was the last thing she had left of him, and she tried to cling to it.

Her wounds weren't as bad as some. Her skin all over was pocked by burn scars from Wyyrlok's lightning but once bacta became available that would heal. The Sith's blade had nearly sheared her leg in two and cut through the thigh bone entirely. The Por Dun's medics had cut open the leg, affixed a metal brace to bind the bone, then patched up muscle and skin. They'd seemed glad for a straightforward procedure on familiar human physiology.

All that was left was for the muscles to mend, which still necessitated her staying aboard the Por Dun with the other injured Jedi. She'd heard that the star destroyer had left the Maad system for Hapes but was surprised when Tanith Zel appeared beside her bed.

The Hapan woman had been through a lot too. She had one arm in the sling and walked with a careful hobble indicating a sprain rather than a broken leg. Jade had already gotten an explanation of the fight to retake Hapes but listened to Tanith tell her own version.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there to help take down Serissa," she said. "I was… so close."

Jade told her, "You were lucky to survive a fight with a Sith at all."

"Allana couldn't have done it if it weren't got Vitor Fel. Did you know him well?"

"Not nearly as well as I should have."

"I'm sorry. Liberating Hapes cost everyone so much. We can never repay the Jedi and the Empire for what they've done for us."

"What do you think you'll do now?"

It was too broad a question. Tanith sighed heavily. "The Hapans used their entire navy to defend themselves. Now most of it's been ruined. It's going to take a long time to find people we can trust in the existing officers corps. We can use people from the exile community but they don't have experience with large-scale military operations. And we'll have to reform the bureaucracy too…"

She trailed off, lost in political convolutions. She seemed very much like Allana then, Allana who'd always been torn by so many great and competing responsibilities.

"What about your family?" Jade asked. "Your husband? Your son?"

The other woman blinked. "We'll be moving to Hapes, of course. My husband… he thinks he wants to help."

"Let him help. Let him lead, if he wants to."

"Perhaps that will be allowed." Tanith smiled tightly. "I'm hoping those us from New Hapes can make the original newer too."

-{}-

It had been half a lifetime since Allana had stood in the royal audience chamber of the Fountain Palace. She was surprised by how little had changed, once you peeled away the martial black banners Serissa had draped over the marble walls. The emerald-stone throne was the same. As she stood before it, Allana could remember being beside her mother as Tenel Ka held court, surrounded by hundreds of decorated nobles feigning admiration while devising schemes large and small for personal advancement.

Her mother was gone now, and so were the nobles. As she stood on the throne's dais and looked out at that great and empty hall, Allana felt small and alone.

"This could be a grand place again," said a voice behind her. "We'll fill it for your coronation ceremony. We'll have to show that Hapes is now a part of the galaxy again. Invite people from the Empire and the Jedi, of course. The Alliance too, for all the help they've given us. We should keep good relations with them, though I wouldn't rush to rejoin."

Allana looked back to see the only other person in the room. Tanith stood with one arm in a sling, free hand braced but still reverent against the throne's armrest. "You sound like you're planning for the future."

"Always," Tanith said.

A smile crinkled Allana's features. "I was hoping you'd say that."

She looked down at the emerald throne. She'd never coveted it; not when it had been her mother's to sit in, nor when Demia and Serissa had claimed it. When she was young, she'd sometimes dreamed of what she'd do when she'd do with queenly powers, but dreams had always been tempered with knowledge of her mother's burden.

She'd fought to liberate Hapes from Serissa because it was her duty, as a Jedi and rightful queen, to save her people from the Sith. She'd never savored the prospect of ruling, and she'd thought long and hard about what to do once she retook the throne. She'd also thought about whether she belonged on the throne at all.

In the end she'd been decided by something Marasiah had told her. People of their generation already had already played their part in building the future. If great changes were to be designed and carried out, it deserved to be done by people with the time and vigor to do so. People of their generation still had a critical role- as guides and teachers- but the future needed to be decided by those who'd live it.

"Tanith, I've come to a decision."

"Yes, Your Majesty?"

"I will not be reclaiming this throne."

Tanith stared. "Majesty?"

"I won't be your majesty anymore. Hapes has changed too much. We haven't done all this just to create a new generation of queens and scheming nobles. This is an opportunity, Tanith, and it's been paid for by too much blood. We can't afford to waste it. It would disrespect Vitor, Davek, and everyone else who died."

Tanith didn't look surprised, just curious. "What would you do?"

"We can make this Hapes our New Hapes. It won't be an aristocracy and it won't be a dictatorship. We can make it into a Hapan republic where anyone- women or man, from any social class- can achieve a position of influence."

"That is…. possible. But difficult."

"I was Chief of State for the entire Galactic Alliance. I know how difficult and messy democracy can be. Compared to managing that, the Hapes Cluster is simple."

"So is that what you'll be? Chief of State for the Hapes Consortium?"

Allana shook her head. "No. It needs to be you, Tanith."

The woman's jaw finally dropped. "Majesty!"

"I am not your majesty or anyone else's. Not anymore."

"I… I'm not prepared for this."

"You're the most prepared person I know. You've dedicated your life to liberating Hapes, Tanith. You spent forty years planning for its future while I was juggling the Alliance and the Jedi. If anyone deserves to guide it into that future, it's you." Allana added with a smile, "And if you do a bad job, your citizens can always vote you out."

"To make a society like Hapes into a democracy…" Tanith shook her head. Her tone was thick with disbelief but Allana could see the thoughts behind her wide-open eyes. She was already calculating possibilities.

"Jagged Fel did it to the Empire," Allana said. "And Hapes no longer has the retrograde elements that almost undid Jag's reforms."

"One would almost thank Serissa," Tanith said sourly.

"I wouldn't go that far. But as I said, a lot of blood as been spilled to give this opportunity. We have to take it and try something new."

Tanith stared down in heavy thought. Allana waited patiently until the younger woman looked up at her. At that moment Allana could see both of Tanith's parents clearly in her face. Taryn's pragmatic guile and Zekk's righteous resolve, often so incongruous, were merged together in perfect union. She knew both of them would be proud of this moment.

"Jagged Fel didn't change the Empire alone," said Tanith. "He had help."

"You'll have mine," Allana said.

-{}-

There was no way to know how many people attended the joint funeral of Davek and Vitor Fel on Bastion, but there had to be millions crammed into the arena. For Elliah Chalk, who'd known the luxury of the Fountain Palace as a child and nothing but cramped loyalist refuges thereafter, the event had a grim grandeur unlike anything she'd experienced.

For hours, mourners from all walks of life, human and alien, came to march past their glass-case coffins as father and son laid side by side. The wounds that had taken their lives were artfully concealed. Emperor Davek Fel had been wrapped not in royal robes but in a gold-embroidered military uniform, bereft of rank. Vitor wore the red armor of an Imperial Knight. Both lay in identical poses with hands folded on their chests and eyes restfully closed.

They lay in state for an entire day, from dawn until dusk. Elliah and Hogrum watched most of it from a seat on the raised stage near the coffins where honored guests had been invited to sit. This included different Hapans and Jedi, as well as some figures from the Alliance, the Chiss, and other governments Elliah didn't recognize.

During the long procession her eyes kept being drawn to the dais at the center of the stage. Roan and his mother Marasiah were seated together on identical raised-back thrones. Unlike their dead, they'd been draped in finery that old Hapan nobles would appreciate. Their faces remained stiff masks for hours, with only their eyes showing grief behind the regal façade. Elliah knew the demands placed on them by their royal authority; for a time she'd thought the same might be placed on her as well.

Now her future was entirely open. Freedom felt like a void. From the scraps of news she'd heard, great change would be coming to Hapes and probably it would be change for the better, but she couldn't feel excited. Her return to the Fountain Palace had only reinforced her certainty that she didn't belong in her childhood home.

When the sun set and the sky over the arena darkened, the procession was cut off and the floor rearranged for a funeral pyre. Those who'd watched from the main stage had a chance to retreat from public view. For Roan and his mother it was their first time the entire day. If Roan was relieved to no longer have those eyes upon him, he didn't show. He didn't show anything, and the guests backstage gave him a careful berth.

Elliah found him in quiet hallway. He leaned his back against the wall, crossed his arms over his chest, and bent his head low. As Elliah soundlessly approached he lifted his head to look at her.

"Thanks for letting us be here," she began. They'd barely talked since the fight in the Fountain Palace.

"Thank you for coming," he said.

"They're not going to crown you Emperor tonight, are they?"

"No. That's a few days away. Will you go back to Hapes after this?"

"I don't know." She crossed her arms and lowered her head, mirroring Roan's position. "I already went back once. It wasn't… what I wanted."

"Allana and the exiles are going to change things."

"I know. But the changes don't sound like they'd have a place for a dead queen's distant cousins."

"They won't hold your relative against you, not after the help you've given."

"I know," she sighed. "They're good changes. But I'm not sure I want to stay on Hapes."

"Where would you go?"

Elliah wanted to think she'd heard faint hope in his voice. "Hogrum and I have a talent. I never realized how powerful the Force could be until I saw you all in action. I want to see if I can learn even some of that, if I can use my talents for real good."

"You should learn." After a pause he added, "I'm sure the Jedi would teach you if you asked."

"I've thought about that. I also thought about the Imperial Knights. I haven't had much experience with either group, but your Knights seem…" She trailed off. He waited, without prodding, until she said, "You have a strong dense of discipline. You serve a more purpose that's less abstract than the Jedi's. I like that. It's closer to the society I'm used to, but without many of its problems."

"Are you saying you want to be an Imperial Knight?"

She took a breath. "I think I'd like to try."

Roan thought a moment, then asked, "Have you talked to Hogrum about this?"

"I did. He'd like to try also."

"I'll see what arrangements I can make. My mother is still First Knight. She'll want to talk to you about it."

"That's good."

Roan remained with his arms bent and head low. Elliah didn't know how much longer they had until they cast his father and brother to the flames. It couldn't be that much longer.

"Can you tell me what you're feeling?" she asked.

She waited. Eventually, head still hung low, Roan said, "Until a few days ago I never knew what my future would be. Now everything is decided, for the rest of my life."

"I know. But you don't have to face it alone."

He didn't lift his head and didn't respond, but she knew he felt a little consoled. It must have come through the Force, because she could also tell that he wanted to be alone for a little while before they lit the pyres. Elliah pushed her shoulders off the wall, but before leaving she bent in and kissed him once on the cheek. What she felt in the Force was reply enough. She turned and walked out of the hallway, leaving him alone but knowing they'd talk again.

Shortly thereafter they took to the stage again. The arena was packed with silent millions and on the floor two bodies sat on unlit pyres beneath a starry sky. Marasiah carried a torch to her husband. Roan took one to his brother's. Together, with the eyes of the galaxy on them, the empress and her son lit two flames that burned fast and tall and bright. Smoke rose invisibly into the night, carrying the ash of two lives. The essence of them, Elliah knew, remained in the hearts of all who watched.

-{}-

Marin had never felt at home on Ossus, not really, but she'd never felt like a total stranger until coming back from the ceremony on Bastion. The feeling of alienation bad been strong and immediate, but it only gave confirmation to feelings that had been growing inside her, not just since Vitor's death but Ninet's.

When she sat down with her father in his quarters, she told him what she'd decided. She begun with what she should have told him before events had swept them apart. She told him about Ninet and Dorn, and what she'd done on Loracan. She told him about Vitor, and what she'd done and failed to do. She told him about Vitor's last words, not spoken but sent clear through the Force even as he faded. Don't regret this. It was the hardest thing he'd ever asked of her, and she told her father what she'd need to do first.

She'd expected him to argue or at least raise strong objections, but he listened to her words in calm and mournful silence. When she was done Arlen asked, "Where do you think you'll go now?"

She was bent forward in her chair with her lightsaber in both hands. "I'm working in that. The nice thing about spending a couple years in the Outer Rim is I've made a lot of connections. Some of them don't even know I'm a Jedi." She paused. "Was a Jedi. That's going to be hard to get used to."

"You don't have to leave the Order, not officially. If you want to take some time alone to find your place in it, or apart from it, I'm sure Lowbacca will understand."

She shook her head. "No. I can't be tentative with this. I went after Kaynar Auchs telling myself I could just put that Jedi part of me aside, for a time. What I ended up doing was so much worse. I have to sever my ties entirely."

"Not entirely." Arlen reached out and put a hand on hers. "Never entirely."

"I'm not going to hide. I'll stay in touch with you, and Mom. But I won't go to Mandalore either. I belong there even less. I'll find some place new. Like I said, I've made connections. You know, growing up I spent too much time among Jedi here and on Bastion. It wasn't until I left that I realized there's trillions of beings out there who don't have the Force at all. They live their lives without having the weight of the galaxy dropped on them or being torn apart by different cultures. Most of them seem to do just fine with that kind of life."

"Is that the kind you want? Where you don't use the Force at all? Do you really think it will be better than the life you have now?"

"Dad…"

"I'm not arguing. I just want to know."

"I think I have to find out. And to do that I have to commit myself."

"What about this?" He shifted a hand to her lightsaber.

"I'll leave it behind. As a donation."

Arlen thought a moment, then understood. He drew his hands back. "You'll let me know where you end up."

"Of course. And I'll let Mom know too."

"Will you go there first?"

"Yeah. I need to explain this in-person."

"And then?"

"I don't know exactly." She leaned back and looked to the ceiling. Getting this out made her feel light, directionless but free. The smile that came to her was sad but sweet. "It's a huge, huge galaxy out there. I think I need to explore for a while."

She left her father, taking her lightsaber with her. She started down the hall out didn't get far. Nat Skywalker was waiting there, leaning against one wall.

"Looking for someone?" Marin asked.

"I could tell you were meeting with your dad."

"Eavesdropping, are we?"

The apprentice shook his head. "I went there to talk to him, but I… felt the both of you. I didn't hear anything."

"Did you feel anything else?"

"I'm not sure." Nat eyes her hesitantly. They'd barely spoken since Hapes. He'd comported himself well but the serious injuries to his mother, combined with Vitor's death, had rattled him. He was as talented an apprentice and Marin had ever met, but Hapes had been his first encounter with the Dark Side at its worst.

What she had to do next wouldn't help, but it had to be done. "Nat, I'm going to be leaving. Soon."

"Where are you going?"

"I'm not exactly sure. But I have to go."

He frowned, confused. "Did something happen with Arlen?"

She smiled faintly. "That's Master Arlen to you. But no, it's not about him. You've got a great Master and he's got a lot more to teach you. I have to leave Ossus, Nat. I'm leading the Jedi Order."

He'd sensed her discomfort for a while, but he'd not expected this. Of course he hadn't; Nat was heir to a great family, raised and trained by Jedi since childhood. Marin had been the same at first, and for her first fourteen years she'd never doubted her path either.

Nat groped for a response. "Why do you have to leave? Is this about Vitor?"

"Partially. But there's a lot more to it than that."

"Like what? And what do you think you'll do if you leave the Jedi? You're not going to Mandalore?"

"No. Like I said, I don't know where I'm going. But there's lot of possibilities. This galaxy is bigger than any of us can image, Nat."

"I don't understand." It came out like a whimper.

She put a hand on his shoulder. "You think you're a Jedi now. Maybe you always will be. Maybe not. Maybe you'll want to find another life. Just remember that when you feel trapped, Nat. You don't have to be a Jedi or even a Skywalker. There's always possibilities."

For a second he looked like he was going to cry, but he composed himself. "This doesn't mean we'll never see each other again, does it?"

"We can keep in touch, once I find a place to lay low. And I can still give you advice if you need it, even if I'm not a Jedi." He nodded shakily. Marin lifted the lightsaber in her free hand. "Consider this a parting gift. I heard you lost your old one. Still took down a Sith Lord, though. I guess from a Skywalker that shouldn't surprise."

Nat took the lightsaber in both hands. He ran his fingers over its unfamiliar surface and Marin stepped back so he could thumb the switch and extend its blazing gold blade.

"You look good with it," Marin said. He really did.

Nat shut it off but still grasped it tight. "Thank you. I'll never forget this. Or you."

"You'd better not." She gave him a slap on the shoulder, playful. His eyes were still sad but she gave an honest smile. "I'll see you around, Nat. May the Force be with you."

Nat opened his mouth to return her salute, then reconsidered. "Good luck."

"Luck's good too," Marin said, patted his shoulder once more, then walked past without looking back. Every step felt long and light. There was so much behind her that would always weigh her down, but at least she could keep walking.

-{}-

Ossus was rarely a charming planet world, but sundown was the exception. The sun smoldering on the horizon turned the sky interesting shades of red and gold, and though it was cloudless and blank it was nonetheless textured by the Cron Drift's colorful stardust that seemed to grow brighter as night encroached. At the same time the desert and mountains surrounding the Jedi Temple were dyed the same red and gold as the sky. Two moons, so pale as to look spectral, were slowly rising in the sky. Once night fell and they crawled upward they'd look down on the Temple like a pair of eyes glowing out of the Cron Drift's face.

"I always remembered nights like this," Jade told Arlen as they sat side-by-side on the edge of a balcony near the top of the Temple pyramid. "The way those two moons lit up the sky… It was always special. For a long time they made me think of Mom."

Arlen knew why. The sky had looked like that the night Jade's mother had been killed by Darth Xoran during the Sith coup on Hapes. That had been nearly four decades back. Now both moons were out again, for the first time since Hapes' liberation.

"Nowadays," Jade continued slowly, thoughtfully, "They mostly make me think about Jodram, and the times we went out together to mediate under the moons. But I remember this one night, maybe his very first night here, we took Wharn out under the moons too."

She'd only ever called him Wharn since he'd died. Arlen didn't know if that was fully earned. At the end of it all, the Chiss had been irreparably changed from the anxious, eager teenager whose Jedi training Arlen had begun. Yet for all the damage the Sith had done to him, he hadn't been their creature. He'd not died as Darth Terrid and that, Arlen supposed, counted as a victory against the dark.

More quietly, almost as a whisper, Jade said, "I think I knew he'd been important, even then. He was unique from the start, and you just thought he'd accomplish so much… more than what he did."

"He allowed us to destroy Darth Krayt, finally. And you and Jodram might not have been able to kill Abeloth without him." Arlen considered, then added, "Whatever he was in the end, he accomplished more to fight the dark than almost any other Jedi. Maybe, in its own way, the Force itself was working through him the whole time. When you took the help he offered, whatever his motives, you were accepting the will of the Force and moving the rest of the Jedi with it."

It was a big idea, something he'd never articulated before, even to himself. He expected Jade to object, or ponder it for a long time in silence, but instead she tilted her head back and shook with a dry laugh.

"What's so funny?"

She smiled at the sky. "That's basically what your mom said to me on Zonama Sekot."

"Well. She was always wiser than the rest of us." For Jaina, he knew, all wisdom had come hard-earned.

Jade dropped her head. "She's not really gone, you know."

"I know."

They heard a sound below them: the warming of thrust engines. Jade tilted her head quizzically but Arlen knew what it was. He felt his daughter reach out to touch him in the Force, a short farewell, before the engines roared loud and a battered old X-wing leaped out from the Temple hangar and soared to a darkening sky.

Jade and Arlen watched her four thrust-trails dwindle to one faint light, indistinguishable against the brightening stars. "Nat said she gave him her lightsaber," Jade said.

"It's a good blade."

"So she really means it. She's not coming back."

"No. I don't think she is."

Night settled around them in silence. Eventually Jade said, "You're taking it better than I thought."

"I never wanted this, but Marin does. And I think, for her sake, it's probably the right choice. There's so many possibilities out there for a life that doesn't demand she be a Jedi, or a Mandalorian, or a Fel, or the scion of a Skywalker."

Jade made a faint, wistful hum. Arlen glanced at her to see her still watching the rising moons. He knew Jade had never desired the heavy duties and destinies of Ben, Luke, and Anakin. Destiny had found her anyway, again and again. Wharn had always dragged her into it, or maybe it was the reverse. Now that his destiny was ended perhaps Jade's was too, and she could have the peace she desired as she continued to guide Nat and Kol.

And when they grew, destiny would probably find them too, and they'd have to deal with it in their own ways. That was something that could only be revealed in the fullness of time.

"Hey Arlen," Jade said, "You're having some grandiose thoughts, aren't you?"

"Possibly."

Jade breathed deep of the dry, cooling air and carefully pulled her legs on the balcony's stone edge. She shifted to sit in a cross-legged meditation pose and said, "We should clear our heads."

"Here?"

"Yours doesn't need clearing?"

When he didn't deny it she looked up at the sky again. Red and gold were fading to violet and would soon turn black. The moons had turned from specters to luminous discs that would only glow bright as they reached the apex of the sky. Nights like these didn't come often, but they were always special.

"Okay, I could stand a little meditation," Arlen agreed and shifted his legs. "A night like this, just us and the universe. Sounds like sounds good to me."

-{}-

Darth Ruyn had never been here before, but it still felt like a homecoming. Every One Sith on Shedu Maad had been trained in their order's ancient lore and all of them had ached to one day see Korriban. Darth Wyyrlok had forbidden their coming here, on the belief that the Jedi, knowing of the One Sith's existence, would have watchers on the place at all times.

None had been detected when the ship from Shedu Maad had exited hyperspace over the dark, seemingly lifeless world. They fell down into the atmosphere and settled within the Valley of the Dark Lords, where stone ruins remained majestic and fearsome even in their decay. As Ruyn stepped out of the ship and into the Valley he tilted his head back and stared with unashamed awe at the towering statues of Sith Lords thousands of years dead. Each monument had endured the grind of millennia and the predations of the Jedi to proclaim the power and majesty of the Lord entombed within. The thought of one day leaving his own mark on the galaxy and earning such a memorial for himself was intoxicating.

"Do not fall victim to your vanities, Lord Ruyn," said a voice behind him, rasping but firm. "Always remember. We are One Sith."

The Twi'lek stiffened and turned to see the other Sith who'd escaped Shedu Maad descend the landing ramp. At the heart of them was a figure taller and broader than the rest. While the others wore black robes, his body was encased in jagged, organic Yuuzhan Vong armor that had been grafted into it nearly a century ago and taken root. A fearsome horned mask covered all of his face except for his tattooed lower jaw and glow of his eyes: one golden-red, the other icy blue.

The other Sith cleared the way so Darth Krayt could step into the Valley. The Dark Lord of the Sith closed his eyes and breathed deep, savoring the acrid air. More, he savored the dark energies that seemed to emanate from every tomb. Even in death, the power of these ancient Lords lingered on. They filled the air like invisible miasma. Just being here was intoxicating; Ruyn felt like this was the moment he'd been waiting for all his life.

Then Krayt said, "Come. Follow me."

The Dark Lord led the way. The other Sith followed him deeper into the Valley. The chasm grew increasingly narrow and the ancient ruins loomed higher. The crumbling stone faces of the ancient Sith seemed to leer down at them in judgement.

Darth Krayt had spent many years on Korriban. For a time he'd even slept here, until the attention of the Jedi had caused him to seek another shelter for the One Sith. Best Ruyn knew, he'd been in stasis since arriving no Shedu Maad, directing Darth Wyyrlok through his dreams. Those dreams had allowed him to see the coming of the Jedi to Shedu Maad and prepare. Ruyn had been surprised when Darth Kheykid gave him the order. He'd thought, with arrogance plain in retrospect, that the Sith stronghold could withstand a Jedi assault, especially with the aid of the Hapans.

He had been wrong. He'd felt his comrades die from across the stars, one after another. All of the Sith had recoiled in shock and agony except for Krayt himself, who'd spent most of the flight to Korriban locked in solitary meditation, funneling his strength into Wyyrlok across lightyears so she could make a convincing end of it.

Krayt led them through ancient ruins like a man walking casually into his quarters. Lighting cracked overhead and thunder rolled, but the Dark Lord paid it no heed. He marched them to the base of a tomb whose statue had cracked at the base and jutted diagonally outward. It seemed on the verge of tipping but likely hadn't budged in millennia. Krayt stood in the shadow of the tipping statue. His acolytes gathered behind him. Ruyn felt the rustling of dark energies and heard the scraping of stone over stone.

He watched as the door to the tomb slid open. Figures in dark robes emerged from the lightless catacomb. There were dozens of them, more than those that had escaped Shedu Maad but far less than those who'd been left behind. Darth Ruyn had never heard of this hidden Sith redoubt until Darth Kheykid told him, but here it was. They'd lost much at Shedu Maad, too much, but they would rebuild.

The figure closest to Krayt stepped forward and threw back his hood. It was a young Chagrian with a face tattooed in black and red. As he looked up at Krayt his eyes widened and his sharp-toothed jaw hinged open, like he was lost in awe.

Then he dropped to his knees and bowed. The other acolytes did the same and once on their knees they threw off their hoods. Each of their faces was marked in black and red, the sign of those born into the One Sith.

"Lord Krayt," the young Chagrian hissed, "It is an honor to behold your majesty."

The Dark Lord looked down with a faint smile. "Greetings, Darth Wyyrlok."

Then send titters of confusion through the Sith at Krayt's back. The Dark Lord turned his horned head back at them and said, "As his grandfather and mother did before him, this Wyyrlok will serve. He will speak for me when I return to my stasis chamber."

That garnered more confusion. Ruyn held his tongue but Darth Vurik was brave enough to say, "Lord Krayt we thought that you had emerged from sleep to command our revenge against the Jedi."

"I have, but that houor is not now. We will need time to rebuild our strength and recover from our losses. But do not fear. Our victory is more assured now than ever. The Jedi believe our One Sith destroyed. They believe I am dead. Because they do not seek us, we will be more able to plant the seeds of their destruction.

"Be patient, my Sith. Look around you. I have selected you to join me on Korriban because you are loyal, and because you are young. Don't despair of seeing our design realized. Don't doom yourself with vanity and haste like Terrid and his traitors. As your Dark Lord I promise you that within thirty years we will have broken the spine of the galaxy. I have seen it in my dreams, and we must begin working immediately to bring it about."

"Yes, Lord Krayt!" bellowed the new Wyyrlok.

The other Sith echoed the cry and Ruyn joined in. Darth Vurik was the first in his group to drop to his knees. Ruyn followed and bowed his head in obedience. Soon the only one left standing was Darth Krayt. He looked down on his acolytes as lightning crashed overhead, as if in celebration.

Their time would come. Not yet, not soon, but it would come, and Ruyn would be there to see it. The thought made him swell with pride, but a better pride than before. This was not a lust for monuments; it was a glorying in what they would accomplish as together. Through patience, through loyalty, through self-sacrifice if required, they would bring Lord Krayt's dream about and transform the galaxy forever.

That was why they served the Dark Side. That was why they were One Sith.