Part II of Trillian's fic challenge.
Malachor V
Revan's expression softened as she regarded the Mandalorians and it became easy for them to see why millions lay down their lives for her. Though intentionally melodramatic, her well-timed change of mood, confident stance, and noble bearing inspired all who witnessed this event. Soldier, Jedi, and warrior alike would hold their heads high in the coming years and say, "I was there, when Revan fought the Mandalore."
The seconds formed a box around the two opponents. Ergeron and Geratt walked up to the Mandalore and they each presented him with an Echani vibrosword in a stiff and formal manner. Both seconds then bowed and returned to their posts.
Revan plucked her lightsaber from her belt and waited respectfully, her stance balanced and ready.
The Mandalore bowed, now resigned to the whim of destiny. He saw in her eyes that his men would receive her mercy and that his people would survive. "Jedi Revan, I have dreamt of this moment. Victory or defeat, it is the fight that makes this worthwhile. Our duel shall be remembered for eons. This is the way of Mandalore."
His men pounded their vibrodaggers on their armored chests.
Revan returned the bow. "Mandalore, you have challenged my skills these past years. Let us finish our battle so that our sons and daughters may honor us."
The cobalt blade slid forth from its source and Revan brought the weapon to her lips. The image of the void flashed in her mind – a black circle with no beginning and no end, an image that was becoming increasingly hard for her to wipe away. For months, the dark picture had been haunting her waking moments, hovering in the recesses of her mind, drawing her deeper into its embrace like her lover Malak had done. Only, unlike the warmth of his flesh, the cold clutches of the black circle chilled her.
No beginning…no end…an endless, powerful darkness that had infected Revan since she found that holocron that contained the thoughts of an ancient crone named Kreia during the Serocco Campaign. To her surprise and delight, it provided a way to focus her power and energy. But like all roads to power, it had its price.
But that was irrelevant here. What mattered now were the two, razor-sharp blades that faced her and could spell instant death at the blink of an eye.
Mandalore inhaled and spun the vibroswords in front of him, taking a bold, aggressive stance. He lunged forward, swinging the two blades in parallel as Revan leapt in a backward somersault. He followed up with a duel thrust and Revan parried the weapons upward, past her shoulder, the vibrating steel singing near her skin.
Mandalore's strength was greater than even Malak's and he came on like a bull, forcing Revan to dodge laterally. Using the Makashi, she parried repeatedly with elegant, precise moves, but he continued to drive forward, alternating cuts and thrusts.
The fluid control of the Makashi was not working and Revan alternated to Ataru, trying to find an opening. Initiating the near impossible acrobatics of the Style, her mind raced, seeking a weakness that she might exploit, but for now, his offensive was overwhelming.
The possibility that she might actually lose crept into her mind and she stumbled as she retreated under Mandalore's onslaught. Seizing the opening, he slashed at Revan as she cart wheeled away. Her acrobatics avoided the brunt of the blow, but Mandalore's blade cut her across the upper chest and her robes sliced open, letting blood flow down her front. A second blade raked across her thigh, cutting deep into her flesh.
Revan gasped and the void flashed in her mind… consuming her thoughts… devouring her soul.
Despite the sharp pain, Revan somersaulted backward to open the distance and take a breath. A quick extension of the Force hurled rocks and dust into the Mandalore's face, interrupting his onslaught. Then, she stood upright and calmly took her most solid stance from Juyo, the most advanced and demanding of lightsaber styles. She exhaled power and tendrils of energy swirled around her like a swarm of fireflies.
With raw power, Mandalore came at her again, but before he could complete his strike, Revan spun and kicked his legs out from beneath him, leaving only a blue afterimage of her form. He rose and attacked again. This time, Revan sidestepped in a blur of speed. With two staccato cuts, she reached out with her weapons and cut one of his swords in two.
Mandalore paused, nodding with grim satisfaction in his opponent's worthiness and discarded the shattered weapon even as Revan nodded back. He took his remaining sword in both hands and renewed his assault with ferocity.
Minutes went by as Mandalore and Revan cut and thrust, charged and retreated in a see-saw dance of death. Something was different with Revan now, however, and it seemed that she had come to enjoy the battle and relished in the pain of her wounds. Such was the intensity of the Juyo Style, a form that often tottered on the abyss of the Dark Side.
As Revan accelerated the battle, the Mandalore's breathing soon came in great heaves of his chest and his guard sagged with fatigue. With a slight limp, Revan sped around him, nicking him with increasingly debilitating cuts of her lightsaber, scoring the thick armor that protected him.
I embrace the void.
As Mandalore staggered, gasping, he grunted with frustration. With a final great shout, he slashed diagonally into Revan. A blur of metal, flesh, and hot energy erupted in a microsecond until Revan staggered, holding her side. Blood flowed down her robes as she bent down on one knee in pain.
Mandalore smiled for a second even as he looked down upon the small dark circle, a void in the middle of his chest. Revan had thrust her lightsaber through his heart.
The Mandalore, scourge of the galaxy and conqueror of millions, fell forward with a resounding crash, the smile frozen on his face. In that one, violent second, the war that had consumed entire systems, was over.
In a circle surrounding Revan, the Mandalorians lay down their weapons and knelt.
A dark smile passed Revan's lips. I am the void.