Summary: As the coincidences continue to mount, both Vale and Erebus feel as if they are getting closer to something.


3951 BBY Nespis VIII Spaceport, Jedi Academy

If Erebus was anything, he was curious. Perhaps too much for his own good. But if there was anything he wasn't, well, he'd like to think he wasn't stupid.

He could list several people who might say otherwise, but Erebus couldn't afford to heed their projected voices at the back of his mind, especially not with the Echani prodding him with the nose of her rifle. With one hand held firmly at the base of Erebus' left wrist, the white clad woman urged him onward and up the steps of the temple, her stun gloves threatening another jolt of electricity through his veins. Erebus jerked just enough to appear at a loss, as if he were quieting his nerves, and played along.

Hazarding a glance skyward, he locked eyes with Exar Kun, now made immortal in mosaic. Grey eyes set in stone. Memory tugged at the corners of his brain, the visions from earlier leading him just as much as the Echani was. He would let the woman think herself powerful for now. He would submit, he would obey, or at least appear to. He would answer every question and draw out every breath. He was sent here for a reason, and for his never-ending curiosity, Erebus was set on finding out why. The ghost of Exar Kun meant to show him something, or at least the Force told him that much.

The steps to the Jedi Temple were worn, crumbling in real time beneath his boots as if they waited for this precise moment exercise their symbolic dissolution, to ensure that Erebus would see it and take note. Yet his eyes did not leave Exar Kun's, only breaking away from the Dark Jedi's stoic stare when the approaching vestibule of the ancient academy blocked it from view.

Not that Erebus had any preordained idea of what it would be like to enter a Jedi Academy after all this time, but when the wrongness of it washed over him, he knew he shouldn't have been surprised. A breath escaped him as his eyes adjusted to the darkness, his Force Sight taking over almost instantly. A ghost of the old temple imprinted on the sight before him: where a fountain once stood in the center of the antechamber was now a crater, filled with debris, still-water brimming over the edges of what remained; in the great room, a transplanted garden was laid waste to laser scoring and the indistinguishable forms of burnt bodies; and in the library beyond, the shelves were empty, void of any light.

The Echani was pushing Erebus now, uncouthly escorting him past the grisly remains into an adjacent chamber, what may have once served as a reception hall where delegates or common folk waited to be granted audience with the residing council. A series of chairs lined the walls and a broken holo-tree flickered in the corner. If Erebus had to guess, it was perhaps one of the few rooms left relatively untouched, housing nothing of value.

Another Echani woman greeted them, only nodding as they entered. A pile of datapads stacked precariously in her arms, she must have just come from another part of the temple, taking inventory.

"Found another one," the woman at his back said, her voice stern. "Shall I place him with the others?"

The woman across the room studied him, her eyes scanning his frame from top to bottom, making mental notes as she went along.

"Of course, but Mistress will want him questioned," she said, her voice somehow more authoritative than the woman at his back, "Orenna's in the library."

Erebus watched, silent, soaking it all in. What sort of operation were they running here? And what stake did the Echani have in the Jedi?

The two women nodded and Erebus was shoved again in the opposite direction.

"I didn't realize being a tourist was so controversial," Erebus said, feigning a nervous laugh.

His legs stiffened as his wrist went slack beneath the woman's grip, trying on an air of uncertainty, though he couldn't say he wasn't flummoxed as it was.

"So, it's true then? The Jedi really are gone?"

The woman shoved him over the threshold of the antechamber and towards the library, unamused.

"I should be asking you the same thing," she muttered, her grip tightening on him. A neural shock coursed his veins, and this time Erebus didn't need to feign surprise. So, they don't know.

Erebus eased into a fumble more than he otherwise might have, flinching even though he wasn't sure if the woman was watching. Quickly recalling whatever he could from the vessel he arrived in, he fabricated a story, shallow and vague enough to be believable, so it didn't appear he tried too hard, yet detailed enough that he might go unquestioned, at least not any further than the Echani was intending. An eidetic memory was good for more than just research.

"In here," the woman ordered, shoving Erebus again. Passed the antechamber, the library stood beyond, wreathed in shadow. Whatever was of use here had either already been plundered or counted and packed away as inventory as these Echani seemed to be doing. Another one of them presided over this room, her fingers dancing across a datapad as she took what Erebus could only guess were notes.

There were no datapads in this room, save for the one in her hand, and all that remained were an odd assortment of old artifacts, ancient in origin, yet familiar somehow.

Erebus sized the woman up as she side-eyed them in return, registering the arrival of her colleague beside her as well. Her face was the same as the one before – sisters? – and Erebus wondered if the woman behind him, his hand in her vice grip, looked the same.

"Another one?" she asked. This must be Orenna.

The woman behind him nodded, her fingers flexing over the skin of his wrist again, though another jolt never came.

"Arianna is still scouting the city limits," she said as the woman in front watched on, her gaze careful as it traveled between the two of them. "I take it Irena is with the others?"

Orenna nodded, her gaze returning to her work.

"I need to finalize the last of the inventory, so she's taken over questioning. We are expected to leave within the next standard day. This wasn't meant to take this long, and now that the Ex-"

She stopped herself.

Erebus could see the frustration cross her face, a brief flicker of emotion threaten her outer demeanor.

"Make it quick," she reconciled.

"Will do," the woman at his back affirmed, urging Erebus onward again.

The women nodded in unison, and Erebus noticed now how very much like and unlike they were from the girl at Anchorhead. Was he just being dense? He had to admit, he knew little of Echani breeding characteristics or how their genetic code worked, though he knew enough about their fighting style. Still, it was odd to see this many Echani anywhere, let alone a few that happened to look nearly identical.

But the girl at Anchorhead was just that - a girl. These women were older, not just in appearance but in the way they carried themselves, how they spoke. Perhaps he was still smarting from how the girl had bested him. Maybe she hadn't been all that young. But still…

"If we find them, we find them," the Echani named Orenna called after them, "If we don't, then they really don't want to be found."

"Understood."

Who didn't want to be found? Who were they looking for?

Erebus had questions, but it appeared he'd have to answer theirs first.


3951 BBY Nespis VIII Spaceport, City Limits

Being alone was something new, something Brianna was unused to. Atris would call on occasion, demanding updates, reminding her to send detailed reports, as if the calls weren't enough. There was an edge to her voice Brianna was unfamiliar with, though it was far more welcome than the heavy silence often found when in the presence of her sisters. At least here she was asked for, she could prove herself without worrying about the judging eyes following her every move, their discerning looks almost one in the same and nearly identical, their irises a shade more violet than her slate blue.

"Anything she does, anything she says, I need you to tell me," Atris told her in the span of a breath, "Spare no detail, and call her the Exile."

Brianna had been careful to refer to her as such in every account and every briefing, but she did find herself slipping, referring to the woman as the General in her mind, or Vale. It was difficult, listening in on the woman's conversations and hearing everyone else call her by one name but forcing herself to use another. Had she lost the privilege of a name in her exile? Brianna knew the feeling, and now more so than ever. She may have been alone, but here, she could be just that - Brianna. Not the Last Handmaiden, not Yusanis' bastard, the runt. In time she may no longer be lesser, but not yet.

As alone as she was, listening in on the Exile's conversations made her feel less so. The Exile and her crew slept in shifts, and they were always on the move. And even now, when Brianna might otherwise be sleeping, they were relocating.

It had only been one standard day, but Brianna had somehow yet to fail when it came to tracking her quarry and the ragtag crew that followed.

They never signaled it verbally and it never mattered who was on watch. They remained at their first location for three hours, their second for twelve, and now after ten hours at their third hostel, the Exile and her conspirators, whoever they really were, were on the move again.

Since they slept in shifts, Brianna hardly had a chance to sleep herself. Atris had provided her with a device that could read heat through walls and translate what might otherwise be garbled rubbish into audible words from meters away, durasteel be damned. The thing was ancient, and odd - perhaps something from her Mistress' stores, though something Brianna had not the chance to study herself, despite the hours she liked to spend alone in there, studying to her curious heart's content. It fit comfortably in her hand, a slab of what might have otherwise looked like transparisteel or a broken shard of glass, resembling more of the latter. It was uneven, jagged, and indiscriminate – all the better for concealing. Having not truly rested since Telos, Brianna reclined with the device in her palm, gently cradled against her ear. With the heat sensor off, the audio receiver remained enacted, feeding whispers and words into her tired ears.

The older one and the girl spoke in hushed tones, and even as they continued their conversation, Brianna sensed something. She dreamed lightly, images playing across her closed eyes, but even as she rested, her sleep was a shallow one. The device whispered all the while, as if dictating her dream, but then – why could she see the others moving? Bags slung over shoulders? Furniture set back into place?

Brianna stirred, blinked, and reactivated the heat sensor. Sure enough, from the opposite side of the wall, the Exile and her crew were readying themselves to slip away into the night… or early morning, Brianna wasn't sure how long this station's cycles were just yet, or how they worked.

Gathering her things, Brianna made a few mental notes, preparing herself for Atris' inevitable check-in call. They were moving quickly, but discussing nothing of merit. The soldier and the girl were still talking about identifying forged Republic documents, as if the older one was quizzing the younger, and the others said nothing. The room emptied and the party filed down the hall adjacent, the one conversation continuing casually all the while.

She waited a beat, her blood pressure rising as the readings disappeared from the sensor all together. Brianna needed to give them enough of a head start not to notice her tailing them, and she had been careful enough to change her garb once she came here as well, swapping out her rough-spun brown cloak for a sleek, black one. Her reflection in the mirror greeted her with a newness that excited her, but she had enough sense to pull her hood farther down her face before exiting her suite, noticing that the pale of her skin clashed with the darkness of the fabric haloing her.

Hurrying down the hall and the steps beyond, Brianna kept glancing at the device in the palm of her hand, waiting for the readings to pick up again. Other heat readings glowed on the screen, but Brianna had programmed the thing to track the Exile and her friends specifically, alerting her with a thrumming vibration when they were within range again.

Bounding down the steps now, Brianna's palm gripped the device, still feeling nothing.

No, no, no.

She hadn't waited longer than the last few times, they shouldn't have gotten too far.

Brianna nearly burst through the side exit at the bottom of the stairs, her eyes scanning the crowds in the city below for blue or red lekku, a burgundy head laced with horns, or even the Exile's messy mix of a blonde and black-haired bun.

Her blood ran hot, her nerves on edge.

They're around here, somewhere, she told herself over and over again, studying every face and every shadow, careful to hide her own visage beneath her hood. Distracted and near-distraught, it took a few minutes of frantic searching before Brianna realized it was raining.

Looking up, she blinked a few droplets from her eyes, indignant and angry that even the weather would work against her now.

Shit.

She'd heard other spacers use the word, and even as the blasphemous term crossed her mind, she recoiled at her own profanity.

As much as Atris might have reprimanded her and her sisters berated her, a sense of relief washed over her as she realized that neither were here, and that the former had entrusted such an important task to her. Her and her alone. And she was blowing it.

"Shit," this time she muttered it, shouldering her way through the crowded streets.

Her sensor was filled with red, heat surrounding her in every direction. She looked from her palm to the crowd, finding nothing, and losing hope.

"Wonderful."

Brianna kept moving, unsure of where she was or where she was going, only aware that she was looking and trying not to appear so anxious while doing so.

A jolt. Brianna's eyes dashed to her palm only to find the shard flash with green light for but a moment before dissolving to red again. They're nearby.

With her hood carefully covering her brow, her eyes scanned the crowd again, a faint tremor teasing her palm before she could take a look, always a moment too late. She was on their tail, at least.

And then… a flash of white.

White?

Without thinking, Brianna spun around, her eyes fixated. A white hood, drawn like hers, dissolved into the crowd just as quickly she spotted it.

She shook her head, looking instead to the device in her hand as it vibrated again. Green figures swam across the clear screen, her palm glowing beneath the otherwise transparent surface. They were headed back to towards city perimeter, where they had first docked their ship. They hadn't combed through this part of town yet, Brianna only just realizing they were rounding back around through the East when they had first wound around the West side upon arriving. It was in moments like these that Brianna could hardly understand herself – so quick to lose herself, her inner-compass sometimes non-existent when in other far more fleeting moments it appeared like a second-sight, as if she could conjure a blueprint to appear in her eyesight, a ghostly map overlaid all else within vision.

And there it was again – white in her periphery. The flash of a cloak, whipped away by the wind and her slow reflexes.

Nothing.

Perhaps she was paranoid, her mind making something out of nothing, almost as punishment for being so comfortable here otherwise, alone and unbothered. All she needed was her objective and Atris' orders. If she could keep this up, maybe she didn't need anything else, or would at least forget to want it.

Her palm pulsed again.

Brianna blinked and there they were again, now ducking into a nearby alley.

Darting through the crowd again, Brianna pressed on, denying her senses and anything else that might tease her periphery. She saw it again - white cloak, white hair - but she ignored it, if not willfully but for the scene unfolding before her. The Exile and her crew never stopped moving, but in their advance two of the figures held hands, an object passing from one to the other, hands clasped in darkness and wreathed in rain, before one of the pair disappeared on the other side of the alley alone. The rest stooped under cover of canopies, shanty shacks lining the wide berth of the backstreet as they disappeared into the din.

Brianna glanced at the device, watching on as one green figure continued forward while the rest climbed into the apartment complex beside her. Within the span of a moment, Brianna registered what happened and followed the lone figure, hooded, but was for sure the Exile. She continued onto the docks, stopping only once to grab a drink at an express bar by the dock registry, trying to act casual.

Brianna stilled, almost afraid that she was found out. After losing them, finding the Exile seemed almost too easy. But the look on the woman's face told her otherwise. Once under the awning of the compact cantina, she extracted a leather strap from her cloak, running her fingers along the edges and the crystal embedded in the center until her order arrived. She nodded, and began to sip in silent contemplation.

Master Atris had taught Brianna and her sisters how to make themselves invisible, and one of the best ways to lose yourself in a crowd was to become "just another patron". Without lifting her hood, without making eye contact, Brianna slid into a seat at the end of the bar, placing two fingers out on the counter until the cool edge of a drink met her skin. Without looking at it, Brianna slipped the device into her pocket, feeling the thrumming vibration against her thigh. It was almost calming.

She pulled out a data pad, reading through the latest news as she watched the Exile in her peripheral vision. The woman drank in silence, staring straight over the barkeep's shoulder, either lost in thought or studying the bar's stock. She lifted her wrist and looked at a sleek silver band dangling from it. A small holodisplay emerged over her skin, the numbers disappearing as soon as they were read.

She's waiting for something.

Brianna nursed her drink as best she could, wondering what she was missing by not following the others but knowing those were not her orders. The Exile waited, and waited, and with a drink or three, Brianna lost count, she checked the time every ten minutes or so.

She seemed so… normal. But didn't everyone else? Brianna had watched old footage of Revan, of Malak, some recordings of the other Dark Jedi Atris warned her of in her training, should a Jedi ever fall again… and she had watched the Exile being… well, exiled. It was a recording Atris liked to use as an example, above all the others. Brianna and her sisters would watch on in wonderment, appalled at the woman's indignation, her gall, her absolute disregard for authority and the mercy she was shown as she destroyed the pillar at the center of the council chambers. Brianna hated to think of it, an artifact defaced. There was a fire in the Exile's eyes, an anger, and though there was something there in the Exile now, Brianna felt only… determination, worry. But perhaps that was because the woman wasn't being watched, to the best of her knowledge. She wasn't being judged. She was in her own world, lost in thought, waiting for something that did not rely on the people milling about her and the girl watching on all the while.

That is what makes people dangerous, Atris had told her, when they are calm and complacent, when you believe they are your friends. Her Mistress had told them of her time as the Exile's teacher, when they had been close. Sentencing the Exile was both the easiest and most difficult thing Atris ever had to do, her Mistress admitted. It was easy because she knew what had to be done, yet difficult because the truth hurt her, but it could not be ignored. Just as Brianna was held to a different standard than her sisters, she understood. She was the result of a transgression, a breach in tradition. Brianna would not make the same mistake, and she would make up for the one her father burdened her with.

The Exile looked at her watch one last time, this time looking to the crowded sky afterwards. A mess of speeders and other transport were either zipping their way about the cityscape, docking or taking off. Watching from the corner of her eye, Brianna could not pinpoint exactly where she was looking, only that it was up.

The General – Exile, she internally corrected – downed the remains of her cup and rapped her fingers against the glass in rhythm, counting. When she reached sixty, she pushed away from the bar and began walking again.

Brianna looked about, checking that the coast was clear – and it wasn't.

Another set of blue eyes stared back at her from across the marketplace surrounding the docks, only these eyes were more violet than hers.

"Nice to see you're doing well, sister."

"Arianna."

Brianna's voice caught in her throat, almost unable to utter her sister's name.

"Shall we?"

Arianna hooked her arm in Brianna's as she began to shadow the Exile as she had intended, and expected, to do alone.

"What are you-?"

"Mistress sent us, of course," Arianna answered curtly, "Not bad."

"Not-?"

"You, dear sister," she said again, "You've done well."

"Mistress did not send you here just to check on me," Brianna began, though she knew not how to continue. To her relief, Arianna continued finishing her thoughts as she already had been.

"She sent us, yes, but oddly enough not for you," she mused, following the Exile all the while. She flashed a holocard at a dock officer as they passed, the uniformed woman's eyes scanning over the two of them before nodding and allowing them passage.

Brianna glanced at the holocard before Arianna could pocket it, her sister's face plastered across the thing in translucent pink and blue, the Nespis Police seal stamped at the bottom.

"Odd coincidence really, though Mistress may explain more later," Arianna began, sounding as condescending as usual, "We're here on our usual business. You just happened to be here, as well."

"The Exile just happened to be here," Brianna corrected, swallowing whatever anger rose at the back her mouth like bile, "Are there more artifacts here?"

At this last question, Brianna felt foolish, unable to hide her excitement. Arianna nodded, smirking at Brianna's emotional display, however feeble.

"There are Jedi artifacts everywhere," she said, "But yes, that is why we are here."

Arms still linked, Arianna tucked Brianna's elbow tighter against her, and nodded ahead. They stopped in their tracks as a crowd, perhaps a family, made ready to board a shuttle nearby, helping to mask their presence somewhat. Several yards away, the Exile nodded to a pair of Republic officers and handed over a set of documents, part paper, part datapad. The officer on the left tucked the paper into what must have been a manifest while the other scanned the datapad. A captain came up behind them and shook the Exile's hand, both their smiles formal and void of warmth. Brianna could feel the device in her pocket hum against her thigh, still set to read the Exile's movements and pick up on her voice, but without it close could not hear a single word spoken.

"Looks like you've completed your mission, little sister," Arianna grinned, a genuine smile this time.

Part of her wanted to argue, a sense of pride rising in her at the accolade, angry that her sister would belittle her like this. But there was warmth in Arianna's eyes, a softness she had not seen since they were children. A look not unlike one the Exile's Togruta companion gave her as she had observed.

Brianna bowed her head slightly in thanks, but was careful not to let too much emotion play over her face.

"I'll make sure to tell Mistre-"

Brianna stopped her, raising a hand.

"No, I will tell her. I was ordered to provide a report."

Arianna let go of her sister's arm, watching her, impressed.

"So be it," she said, now swallowing her smile. "You may join us if you like, back at the Jedi temple. You can contact Mistress there."

Brianna thought for a moment, wondering if she should depart on the ship Atris provided instead. But a Jedi temple, full of artifacts ready for indexing? Making up her mind, Brianna nodded, and allowed Arianna to lead the way, as always.


3951 BBY Nespis VIII Spaceport, Jedi Academy

When the first Echani warrior led him away to the adjoining room, he was alone. Save for her, at least. The room was dark and his hands bound. He made every effort possible to sound inconvenienced, even though the Force kicked in to make up for his senses the moment they walked into the room.

It was a training hall - or had been, once.

He could feel the size of the place, the loftiness of the room's high ceilings, and the way it dwarfed him and the woman at his side. This was the point, he remembered. The Force was larger than the self, he could recall Master Dorak saying. Almost every aspect of a Jedi Academy was built to reflect that and remind the Jedi, save for the older temples in the more remote corners of the galaxy, as well as those forgotten, beyond the realm of the Republic. Erebus had only found one, though he planned to find more.

The woman wrestled with Erebus' wrists for a moment longer, and checked his pockets, sliding her gloved hands along the length of limbs to ensure that he carried no weapons. She faltered at his waist, but Erebus jerked, feigning discomfort from the touch of her stun glove.

"Watch it," she warned, patting him down but exploring no further.

Erebus winced, and nodded.

"This way."

Beyond the training room was another, and beyond that, what looked like an annex, or perhaps this was the true archive. The room Erebus had spied earlier bore few datapads, scraps of ancient paper littered across the floor, but this room was near full, and far larger than the last.

She led him passed the main entrance, weaving through shelves until they came to a set of tables and an access station, the console set to sleep mode. Another woman stood behind the controls, looking bored.

"Another one?"

"Another one."

Erebus was shoved into a chair at the main table, his knee hitting that of the man sitting across from him. His eyes were bright, skin pale and hair blonde, but his clothing mussed, and something didn't add up. Erebus looked away as quickly as he made eye contact, settling into his chair as best he could with his hands still bound.

"Thank you, Ursa," the other woman uttered as the woman at Erebus' back made her leave. "Stay close, I have a feeling about this one."

The last bit was muttered under her breath, whispered just as the woman he now knew was called Ursa crossed the threshold into the dark of the training chambers again. Even though he wasn't looking, he could see her nod and look at the back of his head. She agreed.

Almost shyly, Erebus looked back up at the man in front of him. His hands, too, were bound. Even with his arms behind his back, tucked awkwardly over the back of the chair, Erebus could tell the man's shoulders were broad. He had the look of an athlete, but not one in practice. Unable to get more of a read on him - the man's face was hidden beneath a sheet of flaxen hair - his energy was surprisingly… calm. Collected. Erebus matched his mood, calming himself as he continued to play along.

So, they suspected him more this other spacer, huh? By the looks of himself, he couldn't blame them, but he hadn't come here to act of all things. There was something here, yes, Erebus could feel it. But he'd have to play the part.

Here's to hoping the man whose ship he stole didn't have too much of a record…


3951 BBY The Harbinger

Vale couldn't sit still.

Pacing her cabin, she examined the contents of her duffle, laid out across the once-neat surface of her modest bed: Her old clothes were in a pile, dumped unceremoniously as a reminder of where she had been; several trinkets, or whatever they were, salvaged from the site in the Dune Sea – onyx pyramids of varying sizes, though each of them could fit comfortably in the palm of a human hand; a pile of notes and datapads filched from Aiden's Star Forge ship, along with a few choice notes of her own regarding the ship's make and model as well as the contents of his cargo hold; the munitions pack with the stored crystals; the remains of her emergency pack (rations, a blaster pistol, an extra set of clothes folded as compactly as she could get them, and a pre-paid credit chit); and finally Asra's leather bracelet.

Vale picked up the leather cord, running it through her fingers now as she examined her inventory. Still clad in her clingy pantsuit, she walked the length of the room with the cord in hand, giving each item a moment of her time.

Item one: Her old clothes, sand still clinging to the seams – Tatooine. Like many of the other places Vale had ventured in her exile, Tatooine had something to do with Revan, but what made Anchorhead different was that it was hardly touched by the war itself compared to her other Outer Rim haunts. A brief altercation had occurred there, if she remembered correctly, but nothing big enough for the holorecords to remember. And still, that wasn't the visit Vale was interested in. According to the Jawa, Revan had been there before, in fact, not too long before she had. According to Mission, she and Revan visited Anchorhead in search of the maps that would lead them to the Star Forge, which was new information to Vale. She knew about the Star Forge and the mystery of its location from the war, but she didn't know one of the maps had been near Anchorhead. Not only that, but the Jawa referred to Revan being accompanied by a "dark one". When Revan and Malak had first gone there in search of the star maps, they had certainly been influenced by the Dark Side, Vale's hindsight was sure of it. But to call Revan by her name and Malak as "dark one" was a bit strange. Had Revan returned? Did she know about the abandoned site Vale and the others had found? The people of before left mechanical maps, but the dark one left something else, they had said. The thing you carry is dark and dangerous, like them. The one called Revan came looking, too.

But that's also what brought her to item two: the onyx pyramids. Dark and dangerous. Like the contents of the munitions pack, there was something off about the small ornaments, each oddly perfect and mesmerizing, simultaneously attracted yet immune to sunlight. They hadn't found any such items in Freedon Nadd's temple on Dxun, but they bore some similarities to the holocrons they found at both sites. Unlike more modern Sith holocrons, these artifacts did not need to be accessed or "unlocked" before potentially drawing their viewer closer to the Dark Side. Vale didn't know much about it back then, and had the items sent to Revan. No news came from it. And now, more than ten years later she discovers there are more, with the help of an old comrade no less, and soon discovers that her brother (who was a Jedi, last she heard) appears to be an expert on the subject – well, somewhat.

Aiden's notes lay beside the trinkets and the munitions pack, detailing other Sith artifacts. Many had similar features, each bearing certain trademarks. Vale had learned a bit about such Sith items in her training, but only enough to know how to either avoid them or destroy them if need be - and even then, many Dark Side items had failsafes built into their design to preserve them. After all, what else are all Sith after if not self-preservation?

Vale wasn't sure if Revan meant for it to be this way, but despite her failings and her publicized redemption, if she did anything right as a Sith Lord, it was making sure the galaxy did not forget her – Vale least of all. No, not Vale, she corrected. Eden.

And then there was the name Mission said Revan had adopted, the identity the Jedi gave her, Nevarra Draal. Even thinking of it now sent a shiver down her spine. The Jedi must have truly thought her dead if they imagined using an alias of hers was wise. She admitted it made sense. Both she and Revan had similar features, though it hadn't been apparent to her until now, until she revisited her old "looks" when Glitch found the post about the bounty on her head. Both Vale (Eden) and Revan had almond-eyes, pointed ever-so-slightly upward, especially when they smiled. Vale's eyes were narrower where Revan's were wider, easier to trust. Their faces were oval in shape, their cheeks high and sharp and their jaws defined. Vale had a face (and a neck, shoulders, and arms) covered in freckles where Revan had a modest sprinking over her nose and cheeks, a few on her collarbone. But when done up as "Nevarra Draal", ex-Republic scout, or whatever her old alias read as, their eyes swathed in ochre, their hair pulled back in messy braids and beads, they could pass as sisters if not the very same person. Vale wondered if Revan had been from Serrocco, too. So many children had been displaced by the war and taken in by the Jedi before they grew too conscious of their generosity. It was not strange to think that Revan may have come from the same planet, perhaps even the same village, or at least one surrounding the same port as the one Vale and her brother grew up near. There had been others at the Academy, why not Revan?

But no, there was something else. Vale could feel it. She wasn't sure of it yet, but she knew it meant something. It was why she left Aiden's ship under the name of their father, Aren Valen. Nevarra Draal had been his sister, once, their aunt. Vale had few memories of her and the wife whose name she took, Teran Draal, the two young women watching over them when their mother would work. They were still very young, but some of her fondest childhood memories took place at their house, playing in the yard and dreaming of the jungle beyond, admiring the way Teran's hands worked the soil to make food and flowers grow, listening to Nevarra tell them tall tales of Exar Kun and Ulic Qel-Droma. Aiden loved those stories, even if they terrified him. He'd wake her in the night once they were home again, shaking her until she listened intently enough about how Exar Kun spoke to him in his sleep and asked him to run away, to come find him and put his wandering soul to rest.

There were too many connections. Revan, Tatooine, the holocrons, the Sith, her brother… even the fact that she had found her first Sith holocron with Orex at the Temple of Freedon Nadd was too much of a coincidence for her – it was Freedon Nadd who turned Exar and Ulic to the Dark Side to begin with, right?

Vale stopped pacing and sighed, her chest tight. Looking down at the leather cord in her hand, she admired the roughness of it, the softness it had earned from use. Asra could have been a friend – no, she was a friend, and Vale hadn't even allowed herself to admit it. More than anything, she wanted to tell Asra everything, she wanted to explain all of this to someone and have them see. But see what exactly? In telling Asra, she perhaps just wanted to feel less alone, but if she really wanted to figure things out? She'd need to talk to her brother.

There was no way of knowing whether he had taken her invitation, though if he had at least received it, she knew he was clever enough to guess what it meant. In leaving the ship in their father's name, she hoped he understood it was a truce, as a sign that "whatever's happening here, it's bigger than the both of us," but it still had to do with them, it was tied into their family, their history at the Academy, to Revan. If anyone would know anything, or at least where to start, it would be Aiden. Vale could only hope he'd accept, and answer.

Aiden, like the rest of the galaxy, may have seen her exposed records. Perhaps he, too, would make the connection when he saw her doctored files, especially the one masquerading as their perished aunt. That's why she used her father's name to lure him, to clue him in. And maybe in digging a little deeper, he might find that Revan was somehow involved, too.

How? Vale wasn't sure yet, but she was intent to find out.


Notes: Sorry it's been a while! This chapter had gone through about 4 different versions before I settled on this one and decided to do something a little different with Erebus' plot and introduce some original elements of my plan later on. Now that Eden is finally on the Harbinger, the action will pick up again across all parties. Now that I'm reaching TSL territory, most of the plot will follow the game but hopefully given the new elements I introduced (mostly for the benefit of the post-TSL story I have planned) it will not be a straight game-to-fic retelling. As usual, any comments/criticisms are most welcome 😊