Small mounds of sand collapsed over the tips of Aeryn's boots with each sinking step she made along the water's edge. Every meter or so a wave gently rushed up the beach to swirl around her feet and clean them of the gritty white particles, only for them to be coated once again after a few more strides.

She had never stood on a white sand beach before. It was undeniably beautiful, a tropical paradise. If this were any other world, she would be barefoot, but not here, not on Lehon. This world was… eerie. Tainted. Though the Star Forge was long destroyed, she could still feel the discomfiting, cold threads of darkness that wound their way through the serenity. They were only subtle strings, and Revan claimed he found a deep sense of peace amongst the tropical shores, azure seas, and in the warm, salty, lightly playing wind – but his connection to the Force was very different from hers.

She could not overlook the stains that the Rakatan's brutal past had left upon this planet, despite all its beauty.

Nevertheless, the subdued thunder of waves crashing hesitantly against the sand did bring Aeryn some calm. She needed it after the dreams of the last few nights. They weren't… unpleasant, really, but they brought to the surface too many emotions, ones that were too powerful for her to plumb their depths just yet.

She turned away from the beach and began to wander inland, onto the dune grass-covered slopes that traced their way between fluid formations of ancient stone. She could hardly believe that the violent and natural forces necessary to wear stone smooth could exist in such a quiet and superficially serene environment; even from space, though, she had felt that this world was old and scarred. Perhaps she had recognized a kindred soul, of sorts, in Lehon.

They both bore terrible wounds that had no outward sign by which the rest of the universe might understand.

Of course, according to her brother, Lehon's current beauty owed to apocalyptic, internecine war. Aeryn felt a brief flash of jealousy that this world's scars were so beautiful, but then quickly shrugged it away. She was simply feeling morose, as she always did after dreaming of the night she had spent in Atton's arms. She had left for the Unknown Regions the next day.

Five years ago.

Aeryn reached a grassy plateau about a hundred meters above the beach. There was no sign of the wild rancors her brother had warned of. That allowed her to focus her entire attention on the plateau's primary inhabitant – the large stone Temple of the Ancients. The ziggurat design, colonnaded entrance, and surrounding obelisk sentinels very effectively confirmed what she knew of the history: this was a place that exalted power and bloody sacrifice.

Though the shield guarding it had been permanently deactivated by Revan, she would not be entering the temple today, or ever. She knew what could be found in there – Rakatan and Sith artifacts, the location of Bastila Shan's torment and conversion to the Dark Side, and the focal point of the dark threads that crisscrossed the entire planet. Even tales of the friendly and wise computer historian within the temple's basement held no appeal to her; Revan had spoken fondly of it, but she did not share his interest in history.

Aeryn would be following one of Revan's recommendations, though. She leaped agilely from tier to tier up the temple's north side, using the Force to make an ascent that would have been otherwise impossible. She reached the summit after a few minutes and walked along the walled rim of the landing pad to reach the western end. From there she looked outward and was not disappointed. The view was incredible.

Crystalline tropical waters spread out around her in all directions, broken only by archipelagic islands that were crowned with lush vegetation and the occasional downed starship. She could see for kilometers in the clear conditions, even discerning breakers on the oceanic horizon.

Aeryn seated herself on the edge of the temple with her legs dangling over and did her best to appreciate the beauty without dwelling on the deeper nature of this world. She could imagine herself vacationing to a place that looked like Lehon, perhaps with Atton… maybe even with their children. For some reason, she had found herself thinking a lot about her future today, and she knew why.

She had experienced a few dreams last night, and one had carried the heavy foreboding tang of the Force at work, rather than the light touch of an overactive subconscious. She was being warned… or guided… or instructed. She couldn't tell. She only knew that her future was already in motion, pushing her towards… something.

The tone of the dream or vision was bittersweet. There was a great sacrifice – but Aeryn didn't think it was hers. It was the end of much suffering and the beginning of much more. It was her destiny; she felt it in her bones.

The remembrance of the night's torments left her feeling somewhat chilled. Taking a deep breath, she let the currents of all the life on the islands and in the sea course through her, warming her as surely as Lehon's sun. Reclining on the heated stones, she did her best to release her worries and slide into a light meditation, where she was troubled only by an elusive fantasy of her future.

"I came the closest to abandoning my quest here, you know."

Revan's statement echoed off the warm stone chamber that contained the archives of the Elder Rakatans. "The peace I found here almost kept me from taking the plunge into darkness." He let out a regretful sigh. "I knew what the Star Forge would try to do to me, and I was right to fear it. It wasn't long before the power of it started to become more important than the purpose I had intended it for."

Osraa, Keeper of the Archives, regarded Revan with calm and patient eyes. When it became apparent that he had nothing more to say, the Rakatan responded in the sibilant, nearly-melodic tones of his ancient language.

We have worked hard to make this place one of serenity and reflection. We must never forget the past of our civilization, and we are determined to maintain a deep sense of peace. When we are finally ready to rejoin galactic civilization, we will be prepared to spread harmony where our ancestors spread brutality.

Revan said nothing but continued to gaze out the library's tall, un-paned windows to the azure sea beyond. The sound of gentle surf crashing upon the shore and the warm, comforting breeze brought to him emotions that he wasn't sure could be deciphered. That didn't stop Osraa, who had come to know him best of all the Elder Rakatans, from venturing a guess.

This place reminds you of the person you were, before the wars. It is bittersweet, is it not, to be reminded of a thing that was wonderful, but that can never again be?

Revan rested his elbows on the window sill, peering further into the tropical waters. "The person I was before the Mandalorian Wars would never have been able to permanently end their threat at Malachor, or survive what I did in Sith space, or do now what I will have to for the survival of the Republic."

Your intentions have always been noble, Revan. Osraa's eyestalks twitched upward in the Rakatan equivalent of a smile. I remember vividly the morning you left us and ascended to the Star Forge. You seemed conflicted and deeply uncertain about your decision.

"I was having second thoughts. I doubted I could go through with things and remain uncorrupted." He idly traced a finger along the stone while his chest tightened with shame and regret. "I was right."

Perhaps. If you had shared your intentions with us then, we may have chosen to assist you. Events may have transpired differently.

Revan's felt the old familiar guilt immediately start welling its way up again, making bile rise in his throat. Osraa immediately caught his discomfort.

I apologize, Revan. I do not mean to remind you of your past mistakes, only to help you understand that your future is different. You will not stand alone this time.

"I had Malak," Revan choked out, knowing full well that he had not been an equal partner in things. He had been more susceptible to the lust for power, and he should never have been brought along. To this day, Revan hated to remember Malak. He much preferred to dwell on Alek, his longtime friend from before the wars.

With respect to your friend, Revan, did you both not pass through the same crucibles? Did you not undertake the same journey, experience the same war, and face the same decisions? Osraa's tone, despite being entirely alien, was distinctly gentle.

Revan shrugged. Partly he wanted to defend Alek's memory, and partly he knew that he had not been quite his equal to the task, which only increased his guilt. Fortunately, Osraa rescued him from the increasingly depressing spiral of thoughts.

Alone, you would have failed in a different and even more catastrophic way. Malak at least helped you go farther than you would have on your own, and was he not an agent of your redemption, however unwitting? The Force was at work in this destiny, my friend.

Revan had considered this before, in conversations with Bastila. After the Star Forge, they had both brought reason and balance to the other's guilt-plagued conscience. It served him well to be reminded that without Malak, nothing would have prevented his conquest of the civilization he had sought to protect.

And without Malak's well-timed betrayal, he would surely have killed the woman he now loved.

With the rational part of his mind having sufficiently freed him from a spirit of remorse and regret, Revan was able to take a deep breath and open himself more fully to the Force flowing peacefully around him. He knew that Aeryn sensed the darker things of this world and it unsettled her, but here he found rest.

Truthfully, it was the combination of Light and Dark that made Lehon a restorative place for his soul. He would never have the pure heart Aeryn possessed despite everything that she had lived through. On some level, he desired the counterpoint acknowledgment of another spirit that had sojourned in darkness. He couldn't help feeling that this world was his friend.

Revan returned to the reason he had taken Aeryn and the Hawk so far off course to this barely charted world. "Osraa, I've come to reclaim an item I left with you the last time I was here."

Osraa's large eyes became a little bit larger. You wish to have your mask returned to you? He took several loping strides over to a nearby wall. As he approached, the surface of one stone shimmered, revealing a hidden computer screen. Osraa tapped something into it and a block of four stones next to the display disappeared entirely, revealing a cabinet in which were visible several unfamiliar items. He reached deep inside and when he turned back to face Revan, he was holding the mask of Darth Revan.

Here you are. It is the same as the day you gave it into my care.

Revan's surprise at Osraa's nonchalance must have shown. The Rakatan historian regarded him with a gentle expression. When you returned to Lehon ten years ago, you were an entirely different person from the one who had deceived us into accessing the Star Forge. Now you have regained your memories, yet you remain uncorrupted. That brings me great hope – and faith – in who you are today. I do not fear that you will return to darkness.

Revan bowed his head, deeply grateful for Osraa's words. "Thank you, my friend." He received his old mask from outstretched hands, swept away in the past as his fingers felt the worn metal, remembering that moment a decade ago that he had held this and his memories had returned.

Shrugging off the past, he turned and left for the enclave's workshop.

He claimed a workbench, lit a small plasma torch, and proceeded to cut the mask into sections. It surprised him, how little he felt at the act of destroying this object. At one time it had been integral to his identity. But that was before the Star Forge quest, before he had made friends without any trappings of Revan and that mask. Before Bastila. And it hadn't been worn in eleven years. Even when he had re-found it, he hadn't dared to put it on, and the thought of doing so now felt meaningless.

He adjusted the burner settings on the torch, broadening and weakening the flame. On the rack behind the bench hung various metalworking tools. He selected tongs, used them to pick up one of the sections, and washed the flame back and forth over it. As soon as he could perceive the faintest red glow in the metal, he placed the piece over an anvil, swapped the torch for a hammer, and began pounding this piece of history into the shape he required.

The mask was stronger than duratanium, forgiving and pliable under his blows. It was Mandalorian beskar'gam. It had no equal across the known galaxy. It would be strong enough to ensure his hilt was not crushed again.

When Aeryn returned to the Elder Rakatan compound in the late afternoon, storm clouds were beginning to gather on the horizon. The wind, though still warm, had shifted to the east and the surf had increased noticeably.

She was greeted warmly by every Rakatan she passed on the way to the hangar. There the Ebon Hawk sat with its boarding ramp down and HK standing as menacingly near to its end as possible without actually setting foot on the hangar bay floor – the compromise that had been struck after Revan had announced he was not to leave the ship.

"Greeting: Hello… master. You appear to be unharmed. Conclusion: It appears you did not encounter hostile life forms while you were out exploring, or they presented an insufficient challenge. Observation: That must be disappointing."

HK paused while Aeryn fixed him with a hard look.

"Report: None of these disgustingly pacifist aliens have attempted to approach the ship. It has been an extremely boring day. Request: may we leave soon? Please?"

Aeryn laughed. It sounded like the droid's vocabulator had fritzed on that last word. "We'll give Revan as much time as he needs, HK… but I'm ready to get out of here, too." That seemed to appease the droid, for he simply nodded and turned to watch the opposite entrance to the hangar. She brushed past him up the Hawk's ramp and almost stumbled over T3, who eagerly reported that repairs to the aft maneuvering thrusters had been completed and he had already plotted a course from Lehon to their next destination. Aeryn favored the droid with a pat on his flat head but quickly continued to the comm/nav room just astern of the cockpit. She slid into a seat and keyed open the communications log, which displayed a simple notification at the top of the screen: No new messages received.

Aeryn found herself slouching in the chair. It was silly, but the thought had occurred to her while atop the Rakatan temple that perhaps someone had tried to get in contact with them recently. Their journey to Lehon had taken them into space lanes that were well within range of the Republic's holonet. If a message of any kind had been sent to the Hawk's comm ID, it would have been delivered when they had entered transmit distance of the net. Apparently, no one was actively trying to reach them.

Apparently, Atton wasn't actively trying to reach her.

Aeryn knew it was ridiculous to expect that he would still be sending her messages in the way he had for many months after she had left. They had been mostly humorous and uplifting, scattered with heart-wrenching moments where she knew beyond a doubt that he loved her, though he had never said it.

She took a deep breath and shrugged off the self-induced malaise, letting the currents of the Force fill her and buoy her spirit. She was a Jedi, committed to serve, and she had great faith that her path of service would return her to Atton soon.

But probably not as soon as she'd like.

Seeking a distraction (and an end to HK's griping), she set off in search of her brother. He wasn't hard to find – as soon as she entered the wing of the enclave that housed the archive, science, and training facilities she recognized the hissing clash of lightsaber against vibrosword. When she entered the practice room, Revan had just deactivated his weapon and was taking a bow to his opponent.

"Thank you for the challenge, Pua." The Rakatan responded to Revan warmly, but as usual, Aeryn couldn't understand a word he had said. Impulsively she reached out with the Force to tear her brother's lightsaber from his hands. He whirled to face her and let out a snort of annoyance, but she was too busy examining the hilt to enjoy his response.

Where the base of the hilt had been crushed and mangled, there was now a piece of worn but relatively smooth metal, colored burgundy and dark gray. At the pommel and for several centimeters above, it wrapped around the entire circumference of the weapon, after which the coverage tapered until it reached the activation plate, where the wrap was only half. The exposed original casing was scarred and scratched but not damaged.

Aeryn thumbed the weapon on but was immediately distracted from analyzing its heft and balance. When she had touched the activation plate, it felt almost like touching another living being. She stared intently at the button and noted that it was a highly unusual shape, as if it had not been intended to serve as a switch. And in the Force… it seemed to ring with vitality, not echo faintly as the lightsabers of many Jedi did.

And, most peculiarly, the signature was not that of her brother's.

She looked up at her brother with intense curiosity. He attempted to regard her with stony impassivity, but after several moments crumbled.

"It's from a neural disruptor," he began reluctantly. "It was worn by Bastila, while she was a prisoner of a swoop gang on Taris." Aeryn said a silent prayer for the world, for she had heard of its fate and the fate of the billions who had lived there. Malak… to think they had once been friends.

When Revan didn't continue, she deactivated the cyan blade and prompted him. "And?"

"And when we first met and I rescued her, she used the Force to tear apart the buckle and free herself."

"How is that a rescue?"

Revan rolled his eyes in an expression that told Aeryn he'd heard that question before. "Anyway, I found it lying around the Hawk after Malak captured her, and I discovered I could feel her Force presence in the buckle. I welded it back together and incorporated it into my lightsaber. End of story."

"So you would feel her every time you drew your weapon," Aeryn concluded softly. She looked at her brother with sympathetic eyes, but before long couldn't suppress the mischievous urge so integral to their relationship. "You've got it so bad."

Revan just groaned and walked out of the room. "Seriously, this is worse than that kark they spew on daytime holodramas," she shouted after him. "Hey, HK is getting really antsy and really annoying. Can we leave soon? Please?"