Many thanks to frazzled79 and Sandriassaber for their help. :)

For several long seconds, Hunter stood motionless in the central room, staring first at Tech's wrist comm, then at Wrecker's, then at his own. All three had been sliced down the middle by one quick slash of Vythia's blade. Hunter's and Wrecker's helmet comms had been destroyed the same way, and Tech didn't have a helmet. Hunter had no way of contacting Crosshair or Quinlan – and if Vythia was after the Jedi for some reason . . .

Why would she be, though?

Hunter looked up the stairway, half-wondering if he should follow her, but he saw and heard nothing to indicate that she was in the stairwell at all – and he didn't want to leave his remaining teammates without a real reason. Every time they'd separated, so far, something had gone wrong.

Swallowing against the urge to cough, Hunter crouched down and pressed both hands flat against the floor. He felt nothing except the vibrations from the healing leviathan. If Vythia was nearby, she wasn't moving. Why not? Was she hiding, waiting to attack? Not likely. If she'd wanted them dead, she could have easily killed all three of them just now.

As Hunter stared around the vast room, looking for anything that would tell him where she had gone, his gaze fell on the main hallway – their way out, as soon as everyone was back together . . . Wait. Had Tech secured the Marauder before re-entering Trayus, or was Vythia intending to use it to get off-world?

Hunter darted back to Tech, who was still sleeping despite Vythia's attack, and shook him. "Tech!" he shouted, then coughed. "Wrecker, wake up!"

Tech jolted awake, scrambled to his feet, and nearly lost his balance. "What?!" he demanded.

"Is the ship secure?"

Tech nodded, and Hunter felt himself relax slightly. Even if Vythia managed to get inside the Marauder, she wouldn't be able to get through the locked-down controls.

"What happened?" Wrecker asked, rolling to his side. He pushed himself stiffly to his feet, then leaned against the wall for support as he studied Hunter through narrowed eyes. "Uhh . . . Hunter, what happened to you?"

Hunter rubbed a hand across his throat and held back another cough. "Vythia happened."

Tech's eyes widened, and he turned to stare around the massive room. "Why did we not wake up?"

"Probably the pain meds."

"That is likely." Tech blinked a few times, as though trying to force himself into alertness. "Where is she now?"

"I don't know." Hunter took a few steps away to where he'd last seen Vythia, then knelt and studied the floor. He could see traces of footsteps in the gritty ash that was scattered across the floor – but the entire team had run or walked across this room enough times that it was hard to tell which tracks belonged to whom, and when each set had been made. His own pacing hadn't helped, either. But Vythia gone to Tech and Wrecker after knocking him out. . .

He went back to the outspread blankets and peered carefully at the floor. He couldn't distinguish her footprints here, either, even though she would most likely have stopped between Wrecker and Tech to destroy their commlinks, which neither of them had been wearing at the time . . . And from there?

Hunter drew his pistol and activated the tactical light, pointing it along the floor where Vythia would have had to run if she'd gone for the nearest doorway. He couldn't see any indications that she'd gone that way, or towards the other door. So . . . she had gone up the stairs? But why?

Once again, he had no answers.

Starting at the stairway this time, he pointed his light back towards Tech and Wrecker's position – no new tracks, at least that he could see. She hadn't gone towards the stairs after attacking him. Hunter knew it was possible he was wrong, but his instincts told him he wasn't. When he pressed a hand against the stairwell wall again, he still couldn't feel anything except the leviathan's slow, heavy breathing.

As Hunter straightened again, he exchanged a quick, confused look with Wrecker. "I can't feel her anywhere. Tech, anything?"

"No." Tech barely looked up from his datapad, which he was holding clumsily. "I am not picking up any life signs, not even from the leviathan. The range of my scans is incredibly limited, even considering earlier circumstances."

"You mean the storm?" Wrecker asked, still leaning one hand against the wall. He looked as worried as Tech sounded . . . and as worried as Hunter felt. He still, after all this time, had no ideas as to what Vythia really wanted; but he was almost certain that both he and Quinlan had been wrong about her only wanting artifacts.

The illusions of Ghant were out of sight, at least from where Quinlan sat, but their voices, for lack of a better word, were still audible as they paced slowly away in either direction, pausing every so often to repeat their strange phrase. Quinlan stayed where he was, with Crosshair half-slumped against him, and waited while the faint vestiges of the Sith Lord's gurgling voice floated back through the halls for the seventh time. "You have – now earned . . . the title of . . . Mas . . . ter."

"I swear, if I have to hear that sentence one more time . . ." Quinlan spoke to fill the silence, but his voice sounded strangely loud and out of place.

He cleared his throat self-consciously, then looked down at the comatose sniper. He wasn't in shock, apparently – his pulse was fine – but Quinlan was worried about his mental state. "Crosshair," he said, more quietly than before. "Are you going to wake up any time soon, or will we still be here by the time the illusions come back around? If you timed it right, we have twelve and a half minutes to go. . . I don't know about you, but I'd like to leave before they come back."

The sniper didn't even move in response to his voice. With a sigh, Quinlan reached for his pack. "I guess we can wait a couple minutes before moving. Sound like a plan?"

He tilted his head, listening for a reply even though he knew he wasn't going to get one, then opened his med pack. "Okay, great. Well, as long as we're sitting here anyway, I'm gonna patch up your hands a bit."

Quinlan picked up the disinfectant in one hand and Crosshair's left hand in the other, grimacing a little at the look of the swollen splits in his skin. "I guess it's just as well you're out cold, huh?"

After a quick look in the general direction of the crypt, Quinlan set to work; but even while he focused on cleaning and bandaging the sniper's hands, he couldn't stop thinking about what had happened shortly before.

He had deliberately used the dark side for his own ends. Twice. At least, that's what the masters at the Temple would have said – well, maybe not all of them would say it. After all, Quinlan hadn't found Crosshair for himself, just like he hadn't used it to help Tech for himself.

Quinlan smeared bacta over the knuckles of Crosshair's left hand, which looked like he'd smashed them against a wall or two . . . or three. He sighed.

"Wish I'd found you sooner," he mumbled, reaching for the gauze. It was too quiet here, with only his movements and Crosshair's slightly erratic breathing audible, and his thoughts were too loud. "I should have. I guess I always knew I'd have to use the dark side while I was here."

You don't have to use it. You never had to, his mind told him.

"Yes, I kriffing well did." Quinlan closed his mouth briefly when he realized he'd spoken aloud, but talking out loud quieted the other voice, so he kept going. "If I was going to use it anyway, I might as well have done it right off. I probably should have."

The result of using the dark side, whatever that result was, would have been – would be – the same for Quinlan whether he'd done it earlier or not, but it would have been better for Crosshair, and for Tech . . . He could have attacked the presence and forced it back, and found the two missing commandos easily. He should have considered the possibility that he could use the dark to fight the presence . . . and if he were honest with himself, he had considered it, but then rejected the idea.

Instead, he'd told Hunter that they needed to try and kill the leviathan . . . Wrecker got injured because of that, which meant Hunter had to stay with him, which meant that the search for the other two had taken much longer than it otherwise would have –

I should've just used it right away, he thought, shoving a wad of disinfectant-soaked gauze back in its torn wrapper. The dark side worked against that presence . . . it retreated from me a lot faster than it did from Bastila's crystal. I'd always heard the dark is stronger than the light, but . . .

But Quinlan had never believed it. He still didn't, not in the long run, but he was convinced that Sith had been right in their claims to the dark being more immediately powerful. That was why it was such a temptation even to Jedi, who were absolutely forbidden from using it.

Quinlan glanced down, realized he'd stopped moving, and went back to his work, deliberately quashing any further thoughts on the subject. I only used it to help them.

Fortunately – in one sense, anyway – Crosshair remained unconscious, or maybe just unresponsive, for most of the time it took Quinlan to clean and bandage his hands. As far as the Jedi could tell, there weren't any broken bones to worry about, which was honestly surprising, given the level of self-inflicted bruising.

Quinlan was wrapping gauze around the knuckles of his right hand when Crosshair's breathing quickened. He shifted once, then froze and stopped breathing entirely. His gaze flickered around the room, not alighting on anything.

"There you are," Quinlan said, trying to keep his voice casual. "About time you woke up. Are you ready to head down, or should we –?"

The sniper drew in a shuddering breath, then sat up, yanking his hand from Quinlan's grasp and turning away.

Quinlan frowned and set to work rubbing disinfectant over his own hands as he watched, a little warily. When Crosshair showed no signs of immediate panic, the Jedi leaned over and finished tying off the bandage he'd been working on. At least he didn't get his wrist twisted, this time, though Crosshair did stare towards him – through him, really – as though not quite sure of . . . something.

I really hope he doesn't think I'm Ghant, Quinlan thought, glancing at the pistol in Crosshair's holster. Maybe I should take that, just in case..

Of course, taking it would probably gain him a broken wrist . . . if Crosshair even noticed him taking it. The sniper seemed less aware now than he had before he'd passed out. At least earlier, he'd been talking. Now, he was almost worse than he'd been when Quinlan had opened the crypt.

Quinlan sat back on his heels and studied him. "Crosshair?"

No answer. Crosshair's gaze was aimed in the general direction of Quinlan's face, but it didn't look like he was registering what was in front of him . . . or what he was hearing.

The Jedi tapped his hand lightly against the floor beside him.

Crosshair jerked all over, making it halfway to his feet before he slumped to his knees again. He was responding to noise, but not to speech – and he was responding violently.

"Uhh – okay . . ." Quinlan shifted closer, reached for Crosshair's pistol, and slid it carefully out of his holster. "I'm just gonna set this aside for now. I don't need you shooting me or anything."

He checked his chronometer. Seven minutes left before the illusions would come back around, if Crosshair was right.

Quinlan opened a bottle of water and held it out. "Try drinking something?"

Crosshair's gaze shifted a little, but he didn't move to take it.

"Come on, Cross . . ." Quinlan set it in his hands, relieved when his fingers closed around it. "I really don't want to be here when those things get back. Apart from the obvious, I'm getting that hearing them wouldn't be good for you. Wait. If you heard them when you were in Ghant's tomb – just now, when you heard them again . . . You don't think you're back in there again, do you?"

The sniper narrowed his eyes slightly at the floor. If Quinlan hadn't known better, he'd have assumed Crosshair was deliberately ignoring him.

He sighed heavily, thought about comming Hunter, and decided against it. Hunter would probably come up, leaving Tech and Wrecker with Vythia – yeah, not a good idea.

Quinlan really didn't think she would actively hurt them; why would she? She'd had plenty of opportunities by now. There might be other enemies around, though, apart from the leviathan.

Maybe I should reach out into the Force one more time. I could check if the leviathan's close to healing itself. . .

No. He would be able to fight the other presence off again, if desperation was driving him, but there was no reason to take that risk, or the risk of bringing the leviathan's attention back to Quinlan and the others. If the leviathan healed itself, they were all dead one way or the other.

Five minutes left. Quinlan picked up the rifle and slung it over his back, shoved the pistol into his belt, and looked down at Crosshair. He was still holding the water bottle between limp fingers as he stared vaguely in the direction of the doorway.

Quinlan put the water away and pulled Crosshair to his feet. "Come on," he said, still keeping his voice light. "We have to get downstairs before those Darth Ghant illusions come around to our side."

Finally, he got a reaction to his words. Crosshair shivered once, then took a halting step forward.

"There you go," Quinlan said encouragingly. He leaned through the doorway, checked in both directions, and turned. "All clear. Come on."

Crosshair took another step and paused, gaze drifting across the wall to his left.

. . . This is going to take forever. Quinlan went back to him, took him by one arm, and guided him towards the door. He followed easily enough, but just like with before, he would move only hesitantly once he was let go. As they neared Ghant's tomb, Quinlan casually slipped between Crosshair and the sealed door.

"I really hope you're okay," the Jedi muttered as they reached the end of the hall. "I think you are, overall; I mean, I think you will be. I've seen this kind of thing before, with people who were in a fire." He sighed. "Blast it – how'd you even get trapped in there, anyway?"

Crosshair stumbled once and didn't answer.

Quinlan patted him on the back and pointed towards the next doorway with his free hand. "Look, we've only got that hallway and one more, and then we'll reach the stupidly long staircase, and then we can head down. . . Then we can get out of here. I dunno about you, but I'm so sick of this place. I almost wish we had a few cruisers available to raze it to the ground, but that would probably destroy all kinds of artifacts and release tons of dark side energy. I'll bet this academy counts as an artifact itself. What do you think?"

There was still no response, and Crosshair's eyes continued to be vaguely focused on . . . nothing particular, as far as Quinlan could tell.

"I just thought of something," he said conversationally. "Hunter's probably going to kill me. Either because I muted my commlink so he couldn't yell at me for trying to use the dark, or because I used it, or because I didn't use it to find you sooner. I'm taking bets, if you're up for that."

When Crosshair didn't even look at him, Quinlan sighed again and gave up trying to talk. He could have thought up about a hundred inane topics to discuss with himself, but it was getting harder and harder to act casual. The way this place weighed on him – thank the Force they were on their way out. He'd never expected to be on Malachor this long, much less in Trayus itself.

They were nearing the stairs when Quinlan glanced down at his chronometer and realized that he'd missed his quarter-hour check in with Hunter – and that Hunter hadn't called him. Maybe he'd fallen asleep? Yeah, right.

He activated his comm. "Hunter, come in."

There was no response.

The Jedi stopped walking in alarm, brought his comm closer to his mouth, and raised his voice. "Hunter, come in! Wrecker? Tech? . . . Vythia?"

Not even a buzz of static answered him.

Quinlan muttered a vicious phrase in Huttese, took a quick step forward, then stopped short and turned to face Crosshair. Short of using the Force on him, he couldn't make him become aware of his surroundings – and he needed to be aware, because Quinlan wasn't about to dash into a potentially dangerous situation with someone who wasn't responsive.

The question was, could Quinlan reach into the Force and draw Crosshair back without getting attacked and disabled by that presence? If he was quick, yes. He could put people to sleep easily, he should be able to wake them up easily. . . Tricking people's minds like this often meant they had slower or delayed recoveries after, but they'd have plenty of time for recovery on the ship, and right now he didn't really have an option.

Quinlan put two fingers against Crosshair's temple and willed him to come back from whatever corner of his mind he'd retreated into. Wake up, he thought. Ghant's not here, you're not in the crypt – we have to help the others –

The dark presence gathered itself in the distance and watched Quinlan, but the Jedi could tell it wasn't really interested in what he was doing. Something else – no, someone else – now held its attention. . .

Crosshair's eyes focused suddenly. He blinked once, looking surprised; then he took a quick step back and smacked Quinlan's hand away from his face.

Despite his worry over the others, Quinlan couldn't help a quick smirk. "There you are, sniper guy," he said, then turned and headed for the central room again. "Come on, let's get down there. The others aren't answering comms. It could be the storm . . . but we're not taking chances."

He could hear Crosshair following, but the sniper still wasn't saying anything. The weight of the rifle on Quinlan's back reminded him that he'd taken Crosshair's weapons, which he'd need – but Quinlan wasn't going to give them back if the sniper was about to slip back into that near-comatose state he'd been in. Certainly not if Crosshair was going to shoot at the nearest person when he heard Ghant's voice in his imagination . . . which he probably would.

Quinlan cast a look over one shoulder and slowed his pace a little. "You alive there?"

There was a short pause, followed by Crosshair's usual cold tone. "Presumably."

His voice wasn't even shaking.

"Great," Quinlan said, feeling slightly awkward. "Not gonna lie, you were starting to worry me. Listen. I really need to know if you're going to shoot me in the back or not."

". . .What?" Crosshair's voice was still strangely hoarse.

"You do know where you are, right?"

A slight look of scorn crossed his face. "Yeah."

"Great. And you know who I am, right?"

" – yes."

Quinlan only noticed the pause because he'd been looking for it. He took a slight step to the left as he walked, focusing his awareness on Crosshair's intent, but his companion seemed simply watchful, not threatening.

"Okay . . ." Quinlan cleared his throat. "So who am I, then?"

Crosshair's gaze flickered impatiently ahead, then back to him. "You look like Quinlan Vos."

Oh, Force. Quinlan eyed him. "And – what, I don't sound like him or something?"

"The other voices sounded like him, too."

"Yeah. That was because of the leviathan. Trust me, I heard three different Hunters all at the same time, and none of them were him."

No answer.

Quinlan gestured. "You didn't see anyone else that looked like me, did you?"

There was another brief pause, but as they reached the stairs, Crosshair shook his head in reply. "No."

"Okay, good. So – I'm Quinlan Vos. Got that?"

Crosshair sent him a considering look, then nodded once.

"And are you going to shoot me?"

". . . If I were, I wouldn't tell you."

Fair enough. Quinlan sighed anyway. "Crosshair."

The sniper rolled his eyes. "No, I'm not going to shoot you."

"Okay, then." Quinlan slung the rifle from his shoulder, tugged the pistol out of his belt, and handed both weapons over.

"You said the others aren't answering comms," Crosshair said, checking his pistol's charge before holstering it.

"Like I said, it could be just the storm. Better be prepared anyway. Let's head down."

Crosshair wavered on the first step, ignored or didn't see the hand Quinlan held out to steady him, and kept going on his own.

"They were in the main room, first level," Quinlan told him. "As soon as we meet up, we're supposed to head back to the Marauder, and – I don't know if we can leave right away, but we're flying off-world as soon as the storm lightens up. Of course, we'll have to drop Vythia off at the Phoenix first, and then we've got to worry about destroying all her Sithly artifacts, and there's still the Prince to deal with, and seeing if we can locate the secret Sith lord, and then –"

Crosshair, who continued to keep one hand on the wall as they moved downwards as quickly as they could, shot him a look. "Why are you babbling?"

"Because I'm glad to be getting out of this place," Quinlan told him. "Also because I was hoping to annoy you into talking."

"What for?" He sounded skeptical.

"Because you're being too blasted quiet and I've been talking to myself for a long time."

Crosshair didn't answer until they were on the last flight of stairs. "You said you found Tech."

"On the second level." Quinlan dropped the cheerful act. "But only recently. I should've found you both a lot sooner."

Hunter cast a look over his shoulder at Tech, who was standing near Wrecker and staring at his datapad. He hadn't mentioned finding Vythia on scanners yet; he probably wouldn't, either. Wrecker was sitting with his back against the wall, on Tech's orders, resting while he still had the chance.

Hunter stood at the bottom of the stairway, gazing up at the patterns of dim illumination cast on the stairwell walls by the central pillars in each level, and tried to think of reasons as to why Quinlan and Crosshair weren't back yet. Maybe Quinlan hadn't bothered hurrying because he didn't know that the others' comms were destroyed. Maybe he didn't know that because he'd forgotten to check in. Or maybe the illusions of Darth Ghant had attacked them. Or stormbeasts, or the leviathan . . . maybe Vythia had gone upstairs after all . . .

This wasn't helping. The sergeant turned to the others. "Tech. Any signs of them?"

"Negative. I will let you know the instant I find something." Tech slid his goggles up on his nose and continued studying the screen.

Wrecker was frowning worriedly. "You don't think Vythia went after 'em, do you?"

"I don't know, Wrecker." Hunter studied the room again, noting where he and his team had gone across it, then wandered toward the right-hand corner. He stopped about halfway there and turned in a slow circle, shining the light back and forth as he studied the area. Nothing definite . . . but there was no reason not to keep looking.

He moved back across the massive room towards the lefthand corner. Within ten seconds, he picked up a line of clear tracks that were definitely Vythia's. She had been running – only the slightly pointed toes of her boots had left imprints, which headed in a line for the corner of the room that was closest to the team's makeshift campsite.

Hunter straightened and stared. The four massive statues had been in each corner of the room before, but then they'd sunk into the floor, leaving huge, circular holes – and he'd never thought to check how far down those holes went. A pulse of fear shot through him. What in the Force could Vythia want down there?

"Tech," he said in a low voice. "How bad is the storm?"

"It is still centered directly on the Marauder," Tech replied, but his gaze was fixed on the hole that Hunter had been staring at.

"On the Marauder?"

"Yes." Tech shivered and turned back to his datapad. "And the wind is now blowing straight into the academy."

Wrecker shifted. "It's like it doesn't want us to leave."

"It – yes. It would appear that way." Tech frowned, his gaze flitting suspiciously to the door. "I do not understand. . . I thought the storm near Adas seemed angry. Quinlan did not discount that . . . suspicion. This storm is almost more –"

"Evil?" Wrecker filled in, sounding nervous. "But we can leave through another door, right? Maybe there's one on the other side of Trayus that you just didn't see on your scanner. We could look for one, right?"

Instead of answering, Tech looked at Hunter.

Hunter folded his arms tightly. "Tech, do you mean to tell me we won't even be able to get to the ship?"

"We can attempt it." Tech limped to the doorway that led into the main hall and pointed. "But I suspect that the moment we get within a hundred meters of the doorway, the winds will increase to gale force. In corridors such as these, the contained power of the wind will be even harder to get through than it would be outside. In our current condition, it might well be impossible."

"Once Crosshair and Quinlan get back, we'll have to at least try," Hunter said. "If not . . ."

"We'll have to stay here," Wrecker finished in a low voice.

Hunter glanced at his chronometer. "It's almost oh-two-hundred. Maybe once the sun rises the storm will decrease."

Tech shook his head. "That is . . . decidedly unlikely. Our only choices seem to be stay here and wait for something to happen; or to attempt to fight our way back to the Marauder."

"Either way, we have to wait for Crosshair and Quin –" A footstep from above made him jerk around. "Quinlan? Crosshair?"

"It's us, yeah." The Jedi's voice sounded both relieved and tired as it floated down the stairwell.

"Hey! You guys are back!" Wrecker got dizzily to his feet and leaned against the wall. "You all set?"

Hunter darted to the stairway, reaching it just as they came into sight.

"Why weren't you answering your comms?" Quinlan asked. "It's not the storm again, is it?"

"That can wait," Hunter said, cutting off Tech. "Crosshair, you okay?"

His younger teammate was walking a bit unsteadily, and his hands were heavily bandaged, but looked back at Hunter alertly enough. The sergeant frowned in worried confusion. He wasn't sure quite what he'd expected. After Crosshair had gotten trapped in a small cave by a rockslide, he'd been in a near-silent state of panic for hours. And yet after being trapped in a tomb with a dead Sith lord, he was almost normal? Hunter turned to the Jedi, who was just reaching the bottom of the stairs. "Quinlan?"

"I had to use the Force," he explained. "He wasn't even responsive, after he revived."

"And that just – fixed it?" Hunter asked, deciding not to ask how Quinlan had managed to use the Force.

"No. He's probably going to need to sleep it off, once it . . . wears off. Tech? You should probably take a look at his hands as soon as we're back on the ship. Can we –?"

Quinlan's eyes widened, and he twisted on one heel to stare around the rest of the room. "Where the kriff is Vythia?"

"She left," Tech said neutrally, from where he was standing next to Wrecker. "She attacked Hunter and ran."

"She what?"

"She managed to knock me out." Hunter turned and pointed at the massive hole where the statue had been. "I only just found her tracks. She went down – there. I haven't looked at it, yet; I don't know where it leads."

"I . . ." Quinlan's face had gone pale. "I didn't realize –"

Hunter eyed him warily, wondering if he should tell him to sit down. "What is it?"

Instead of answering, the Jedi asked hoarsely, "Can we get back to the ship?"

"No," Tech answered. He was trying to keep his tone normal, but the slight tremor in it was clearly audible. "The storm is of such a level of ferocity that we would not make it within three hundred meters. It is . . . continuing to escalate. Quinlan? Do you think it is trying to keep us here?"

Quinlan sat down on the stairs and buried his face in his hands. "She went down there?"

"We're not going after her," Hunter said. "That's where the leviathan came from, remember?"

"But that's the Core, Hunter. I didn't realize – I didn't remember. It's below – the Trayus Core –"

Crosshair turned to regard him. "Vos, get a grip," he snapped, then staggered and leaned heavily against the wall. "What is it?"

Wrecker and Tech had made their way over by now, and for some reason all four commandos simply stood and watched the Jedi, waiting for him to answer.

Quinlan took a deep breath and looked up. "I didn't remember, Hunter. Not until you said she went down there. The Trayus Core was rumored to be directly below the very center of the academy. It's the center of everything – the dark side presence, the experiments, everything. Every alchemical experiment ever done here. Every monster, every illusion, every sacrifice – all of it was done in the Core."