"What will you do if they stand in your way? The Republic, the Council, the Sith?"
"Should they fight, should they continue after I ask them to stop, then I will exterminate them."
Those words echoed back and forth between him and Bastila, even as he departed the Hawk and entered the port's structure. Weeks in hyperspace left little for the crew of the Ebon Hawk to calm, to get away from one another, but they'd managed to reach Korriban without turning on themselves. Revan saw that as a success, given Bastila's inner suffering, Carta and K'Satra's service with the Republic, and Caldera Ordo being Caldera Ordo. He had kept things brief but informative with them - if they had questions, he'd answer, if they had curiosities, he'd indulge, and if his crew complained, he heard them, and acted.
What he did not do was capitulate. Bastila complained, rightfully so, about this vaunted plan of his, and how it would affect the Republic for years to come. She stressed and fretted and paced about that ship for those ceaseless weeks, and was still cooped up in the ship, out of fear of being recognised. And what would Revan do to assuage her fears?
By the end of their stint in Korriban, he would show her the fruits of his labour.
The first to step out were himself, Carta, and K'Satra. Caldera wouldn't be too far behind, Revan thought, no doubt scouting the cantinas and delights of the simple outpost. Zaalbar and Mission would certainly go stir crazy, keeping themselves out of sight for the second they stepped off the Hawk - and T3 was assigned repair and guard duty; keeping an eye on any and all who'd dare trespass upon the Hawk. Revan liked the droid.
"I'm worried about Bastila," Carta spoke, breaking him out of his thoughts. "We shouldn't have left… Her, on the ship. What if they-"
"-They won't. Soon the Sith Academy here will be under my control and Bastila will blend in like any other student. None would dare seek to harm her, let alone report to Malak of her presence," Revan assured her, slipping a credit chit to the docking authorities, who cleared them for passage into Dreshdae.
It was a simple, grey-and-silver habitat slapped onto a barren plateau. Czerka had cut themselves a nice niche into the area, as had the local smugglers, drunks, and wayward, flaunting students, it seemed. Before even getting acclimated, with the harsh winds and hot temperatures, before stepping foot into Dreshdae proper, a Sith stood before them, shivering with power.
"No, that is the wrong answer. Again! You pathetic hopefuls can't possibly all be this stupid, can you?" she yelled to a group of hopefuls - those wishing to enter the Sith Academy.
Revan eyed her. Tall, built strong, with rough-cut dark hair. A distinct chip on her shoulder - one did not have to have the Force to see that, but, He sighed, shaking his head. Embarrassing. The three prospective pupils quivered perilously under this Sith's shaking fist, wincing as her hand reached forward, crackling with energies.
"P-please, Mistress Shaarda! Give us a chance! We'll do anything to get into the academy!" a Twi'lek girl pleaded, pleaded, with the power-drunk student.
Revan strode forward, placing himself directly in front of the prospects. He shared a look with Carta and K'Satra, who followed the lead and stood by his side, shaking their heads at the display before them.
"Leave them be, and leave this pissing contest to the drunks in the cantina, Sithling," he warned her, crossing his arms over his chest. He feigned almost disinterest, an absolute uncare at the height of Shaarda's proficiency in the Force. It was nothing to be sneezed at, no - still deadly if left unguarded - but Revan stood firm.
"Leave them be-," she scoffed, taken off-guard, eyes darting between the groups, "I-, no! Why, the sheer insolence of-"
Shaarda raised her hand, flaunting her fingers forward in a gesture of power. From her body flowed the Force, flickering and flurrying to her hand, to harm the dishonorable dunce before her. Feeling that fury, that petulant anger fly at him, Revan blinked, and allowed the same energies to course through him. She knows not what she plays with, he reasoned, tempering his fury, she is inexperienced.
In that blink, Shaarda's body collided with those gunmetal-gray walls, the impact knocking over nearby cargo, denting the dreary, creaking metal. Revan held her by the neck, speed empowered by the Force, and stared into her eyes. His grip was tight, but not crushingly so, leaving just enough room for the Sith to breathe. She kicked and kicked, struggling to summon the strength of body or mind to rip his grasp from her, but failed.
"I don't know what babble the Academy is spewing into your mind, Sithling, but I can assure you I'm going to change it," he assured her, voice dire. "To think - Ulic Qel-Droma led a war and struck down her own sister, and you think torturing non-combatants in a damn hallway is-"
"Rev-, Diamar, stand down! She might be an idiot, but she's a young idiot! I'm sure she'll have plenty of time in the future to pour over this and figure out what she did wrong here," Carta ordered, slapping a hand to Revan's shoulder.
The former Dark Lord took a deep breath in, eyes snapping back to her as he felt that anger, that pull of those foul forces ebb. Loosening his grip, Revan locked eyes with Shaarda again.
"You can either run, very far away from here, and never return, or you can cower back to the Academy and warn Master Uthirr. Warn her that Revan is returning," he said, dropping her to the ground.
Shaarda sputtered, coughing as she darted her eyes back up to those she was hounding, torturing. They scattered, leaving her at this man's mercy. Even though his hand had left her flesh, she could still feel his anger lingering upon her, his impression in the Force. Shaarda could tell that even that choking, walking anger of his was only the tip of his power. He didn't pant, didn't sweat nor take one step out of line - it didn't strain him in the slightest.
So, weighted with the knowledge that maybe Revan himself had just assaulted her, had come back from the damn dead, Shaarda rose, and sprinted towards the Sith Academy. Revan sighed again, so very deeply, and peered back at the stunned K'Satra. Nodding, he led forward towards the Academy, and motioned to Carta.
"Thank you."
"You lay hands on the innocent, and I leave you."
"I understood, and still do. May only beasts meet my blade from now on," he swore, an idea shooting through his brain.
K'Satra cleared her throat, trying to shake herself of that lingering aura Revan radiated, in that moment. "So… We're open about your name now? Who you are? Are you sure that's wise, given-"
"-Wise enough. We perform this task to tackle multiple goals, and revealing my identity is key to them. Goal one, and of utmost importance-" Revan began, before Carta shot up.
"-We kill Malak."
"Correct. Goal two, we raise an army to combat the True Sith. I'm not expecting the leagues of the Mandalorian Wars, but one, two hundred of those keenly trained in the Force will give us a chance," Revan continued, slipping past the Rodian shopkeep, towards a hall.
The trio peered down and found a thoroughfare of Sith students, walking in, and stumbling out of the local cantina. The Drunk Side, Revan read, snickering.
"What you described," Carta remembered the creature, the all-consuming thing the Jedi spoke of, "no army would be able to hurt it… Why did you need to take over the Republic in the first place - and what good will an army do you now?"
"It…" he sighed. "It entertains thralls. Feeds off the suffering they induce, upon themselves, upon others. Of the few thrall-masters we encountered, we found them using hordes of slaves, minds wiped and used as storage, where the Force might stagnate, but never die. We fought them, even, finding their numbers unending, and their strength unbound by physical form…"
"The army isn't to fight it directly," K'Satra spoke, eyes lit up with horror, "it's to cut through, to get to a thrall of this… This creature…"
"Correct, K'Satra. Utilising their techniques against them, forming a shield using their own magics, and striking at the heart of their command. From there, it'd be utilising the Force to see the thrall's master, piercing their mind and severing that link - and following it."
Carta's brow furrowed, "you haven't… You're not sure if this will work at all, are you? Are you sure this thing even operates within the Force?"
Revan chuckled as they stopped, just outside of the cantina. No one paid any mind to the trio, even as the Jedi's eyes darkened, weighed by shock.
"No, I'm not sure if our final plan will work. We enter the borders of known space knowing that we will die, or we fail. And if we fail, we live to see horrors beyond our comprehension. But now is not the time to talk. For now, until we see the end, we must act."
And so they stalked. They found themselves finally on the planet's surface, and basked in it's niggling, flowing heat - noting a sheer drop into a valley on their left. The party spent a moment just looking upon the dark planet's surface, until they were met by a guard at the entrance to the Sith Academy. Before they could speak, before they could even begin to question what Revan was doing, he held his hand up.
"Open this, please."
"No medalli-"
"-No medallions, no."
"No lightsab-"
"-No, no lightsabers either. Open the door, please."
"Not even a recommendatio-"
"-Did that Sithling even get here? Open the Academy to us, dear guard. I'm here to combat Uthirr Wynn."
"-Oh," the guard's demeanour changed instantly, from confrontational to excited. "You're, uh, 'Revan', right? Pfft, as much fun as it'd be to see some lunatic be destroyed by Mistress Wynn, I-"
Wasting no time, Revan simply grabbed the guard and dragged them over the chasm's edge, the full might of Korriban's sun behind them, framing them as they squirmed and yelled. He swore he could've heard the automated turrets whir, but felt his shoulders slack as K'Satra and Carta shot them, disabling them easily.
"Wait, h-hold on!-"
"-Key," Revan held his other hand out as the guard began fumbling for the Academy's passkey. Once in his hand, the former dark lord gently placed the guard back on solid ground, suit muddying up as they scrambled on the earth away from the cliff's edge.
"Thank you. Warn whoever you want on the suit's comm. If Vice Admiral Guulon still visits, give him my greetings."
And thus, Revan took a moment to immerse himself as they entered the Academy. Worry played over K'Satra's face as she steadied her hand on her blaster, and Carta simply breathed in, eyes scanning the ancient halls. A darkness pervaded them; one cultivated from the eons of suffering and plagues that ravaged Korriban, that fed into the Academy's halls. Students and teachers alike drew upon the wellspring of dark energy, and it seemed to serve them well.
Revan found himself reflecting on the indoctrinating effects of such places; how they echoed back on the Star Forge, at Malachor V, and sighed. "Mistress Wynn is not nearby… So we have time to explore. Perhaps a history lesson is in order?"
"Do we really have time to waste?" K'Satra asked, checking over her back again for the eyes she swore were staring at her.
"Not in the slightest," Revan answered, "but to her, we are but cannoks, barking at the wind. We need her attention, and I dare say this is the best way to get it. If you will," he motioned both of them to follow him, leading down the hallways to where he remembered the dormitories to be.
"During the war, this is where we indoctrinated hopeful Jedi, outcasts and the like. We dared not divide them on race, level of tranquility, or what have you; we gave them a common, allied purpose. It was key to fortifying their belief in our cause," he explained, tracing his hands along the cool walls.
"Try not to sound too proud of yourself," Carta grunted, disgusted at the indoctrinating thoughts. "And to think… All this, to fight something bigger than the Sith…"
"That's why it was so hard to open communications, to try and work out negotiations…" K'Satra mumbled to herself. "Even when you captured prisoners-"
"-They were brought here, as well, if they showed any command of the Force. And I turned them against you. From here a Sith could learn the history of the former empire, the shadows of queens and empresses that dared to control the galaxy…"
Carta stared at him as he appeared to lose himself in said memories, noting how his expression quickly turned sour. She noted, mentally, that perhaps he saw himself among them; and among their greatest failures. It was hard to feel sympathy for the undead, and yet, here she was, pitying him by a pittance.
"It's from here that we sow the seeds of discontent. Turn the Academy to our side, as our first ally against an unending army," he spoke, turning into one of the open-rooms, meeting a very green young human. She was tanned by time spent under Korriban's sun, but small, meek, as if trying to hide herself.
"Oh… Ah, hello, I don't remember seeing you before. My name is Kel… Kel Algwinn," she nodded to Revan, standing just under his height, though, hunched over.
He bowed back to her, smiling. "A pleasure to meet you. My compatriots and I are intruding upon the Academy, and, well, we wished to ask a few questions."
Kel couldn't help but snicker, despite the tremble in her voice. "Do you often intrude where you don't belong?"
For a brief moment, Revan's eyes went distant as he stared back to Carta. Weariness. "More often than I care to admit, really. Is everything alright?"
She bit her lip, breaking their gaze, scratching the back of her head as she kicked open her footlocker. "I… Yes."
"You look almost sick," K'Satra commented, "we're not here to fight, if that's what you're worried about."
"Ah, g-good, then. M-My master always tells me that… I'm too trusting," Kel cleared her throat, "and, well, judging by your presence in the Force, you are a Sith, no?"
She was sharp, Revan thought. "No. I used to be, and, now I'm visiting for old time's sake. Also, for an errand, but, two boma, one stone, you know how the saying goes. If you have doubts, you can voice them with us."
"I-I'm just not sure," she spoke as she crouched, rifling through her belongings. "I'm not sure I belong here."
Carta snickered. "Well, you're not frothing at the mouth and beating up the other kiddies for kicks, so, I'd say you're right, Kel. Why'd you come here in the first place?"
"I… I was picked up by a recruiter, who saw the Force in me. Th-they said I could learn to do great things with it, enhance my abilities and…"
"Say no more," Revan assured her, "they're quick like that. Probably smelled doubt on you and leapt at the chance to convert you. The violence doesn't suit you, does it?"
"...No," she answered, meekly.
"Nor does the vie for power, I'd imagine," K'Satra continued.
"No, no… But… If not here, then where would I go? What would I do? I… I feel as if my life has a greater purpose than… Than… Torturing people."
"...If you want to help, then," Revan began, eyes softening as he sighed, "perhaps you could join us. We seek to fight an enemy that threatens to reshape the galaxy into a void, and to do so, we're looking for allies. You don't have to say or do anything - not yet - but when the time comes, I ask that you stand by us."
She went to doubt his words, to judge him for converting her based on doubt like the others did, but paused as she looked into his eyes. Those ancient eyes, briefly reflecting the void of which he warned. And Kel felt her throat lock up. Instinctively, she clutched at her saber, knuckles cracking as doubt began to fill her.
Revan held a hand up, gently, as if to assure her. "Keep your concern in mind. Keep that doubt, too," he smiled, "just hear me through my actions. Is that alright with you?"
Kel couldn't trust the lock in her throat, so she just nodded to him.
"Thank you, Kel. We shall see you soon."
They left her, quietly, quickly. And spent the next minutes blending in. K'Satra took note of how the Sith practiced, trained themselves. How they held weapons and fought like animals, grievously wounding each other in spars. Carta's concern for Revan grew as she watched him slowly dismantle a Sith student's belief, as if it were nothing. A horror was growing in her heart, one that only leapt in intensity as they neared their last dormitory.
Horror, and a colossal amount of disbelief.
"Dusti!?"
Revan looked upon her. Tall, muscular, with medium-length, chestnut-brown hair. Clad in the Sith uniform; the same as the other students. He then looked back to Carta, and recognised the sheer confusion, horror, and sadness to her voice. As she spoke of the Sith and what they did to her home; this is what she lost. Or, so she had thought.
"Oh, great, if it isn't mother," Dusti spat, equally as surprised, "what the hell are you doing here? No, wait, let me guess - here to save us all once again? To break Korriban free of Sith chains?"
"D-Dusti," Carta spoke, stuttering, "what are you talking about? I… I thought you were dead - when Telos was bombed, I-"
"-Valiant excuse, I'm sure you tell all your war buddies the same," she motioned lazily to Revan and K'Satra, "don't pretend to care for my wellbeing when you made it very clear a war was more important."
"I-I- What!? Dusti, I fought for our family, to keep the Sith away from us, and-"
"-And what a great job you did! No, really, leaving mom and I to fend for ourselves while all that hard fighting needed to be done was a brilliant decision. Even when I stood in rubble you still left me behind!"
Tears were pricking at Carta's eyes, the words barely forming. Revan put a hand on her shoulder and channelled calm energies, clearing his throat.
"The bombing of Telos IV scorched the planet's surface to char and back. Millions died, leaving more displaced and scattered," K'Satra stood in front of Carta, with a firm and even tone. "There's a lot of anger in you. But your mother isn't lying. I had family on Telos, and only one of them made it out alive - said it was like sifting through mountains of glass and ash…"
The rage that had bubbled to Dusti's skin appeared to settle, even just a tad, leaving her a little more calm than before.
"You would join the same empire who bombed home," Revan uttered, quiet. "Unleash your anger all you must, but to trust in the iron grip of Malak, to let her hand guide you, as it guided Telos' destruction… Why?"
Doubt, Carta recognised. No, the Sith weren't the same all the way through, and through their organisation, but the actions of its empire were undeniable. No matter how far away or removed Dusti was from the control that annihilated Telos, she would still play a hand in shaping it.
"Because, mother… She…"
"Was it glory?" Revan asked. "For there is none to be found in battle. None in war. It is hollow, and the Sith know this. They addict you to it's sensation, gaining power and triumph over others, lording yourself about," he warned her. "And there is no redirecting this beast. Not without reforming it from the ground up. No influence unless from outside it. You would see yourself consumed, at the vile command of that which incinerated your home."
Carta tried to seek firmness in her own voice. "D-Dusti-"
"-Don't…" she answered, clutching her chest as emotion swelled within her. "Don't say a word, mother… Why are you here?"
Revan answered for them. Told Dusti Onasi of the threats that waited outside the galaxy, letting Carta back him up, letting K'Satra assure her. He told her that he would be the one to reform the Sith; to erase their name and their foul doctrine. And, slowly, though ironed by her mother's doubt, Dusti didn't dismiss their goal as fantasy.
"R-Right… And there you go again, leaving me behind to save the world," Dusti shook her head, seeing a mite of mirth in the situation. Carta laughed alongside her, wiping the tears from her eyes, and sighed.
"Listen, Dusti…" Carta swallowed a morose lump in her throat. "I'm not sure I can get us back to… Where I'd like us to be. But I'd like to try. I'd like to try and make things right… I know I'm asking a lot, but will you… Will you leave the Sith?"
Dusti looked between the party, and within herself. She sought guidance from the Force, not from the cold walls that reflected anger and hate back at her. Yet doubt filled her still. Doubt of the man they brought with him. The one who echoed a brilliant command of the Force, perhaps a Jedi?
"I… If what he says is true," she said, pointing to Revan, "then there'll be no need. B-But… This doesn't mean I believe you, not entirely… With Mistress Wynn among us, I…"
Revan held a hand up once more. "Uthirr Wynn is a ghoul, however disciplined. She wouldn't hesitate to murder a student if they inhibited another's progress. If you need proof of her atrocities, then I shall make her confess them to you herself."
All three of the women looked taken aback at the statement, the promise. And before K'Satra could ask how, Revan nodded to her.
"In due time. For now, we shall make haste to the Valley of the Dark Ladies."
"Dusti… I'll see you soon," Carta promised her.
"And… So shall I, mother."
Rumours flew about steadily for such a reserved, hollow establishment. The students mumbling and whispering gave them enough to go on; that there were fellow students hiding in the caves, that rogue droids laid deep in tombs, that some old cook had held up in the hills. Judging by how these secrets were shared and traded, Revan surmised them to be a part of Sith initiation; how one might better themselves in Wynn's eyes, be selected as apprentices for Sith mistresses.
What interested him the most was Tulak Hord's tomb; recently unearthed and ready for plundering. He had no doubts the students would be flocking to it, seeking to learn from holocrons as he did. But Revan knew of a holocron's power; how a Sith could lay their odious essence or impart indoctrinating lessons within one. Tulak, in particular, would've safeguarded her knowledge, as trial to whomever sought to best her.
Revan would purify it. Tell truth from lie, tell hallowed guidance from horrid misdirection. Dark, from light. To enforce a newfound Sith's future, he would do the same for all force-linked artifacts. What remained was how. And the question of should such an artifact be worth saving? In the case of at least Tulak's holocron, he felt sure of it, the only edge he could possibly have over Malak at this point. All of the Sith Ladies' techniques, poured into a single, vile data store.
Their first stop, a Shyrack's den, led them to the renegade students. A blighted and sickly, almost breathing area that showed the unrefined malice of Korriban. A cave that echoed the deaths of millions, smelling rich in blood's iron. Carta, using a renewed motherly vigour, calmed the students as the parties met, and assured them they meant no harm. K'Satra's steady hand helped keep them clear from any stray beasts, and Revan's tight-gripped blade caused the end of a mighty Terentatek, assuring them safety in the cave. But when their leader, a buxom human woman by the name of Thalia May, went to leave, Revan made the same request of them as Dusti and Kel. To join them.
Naturally, they refused, and left the cave as quick as lightning. But Revan felt confident in their abilities; that they'd left a mental mark on the renegades, and would see them again soon.
They met another mild-mannered, doubting young lass by the name of Dal Vesser, and sowed doubt in her as well. She had found herself reinforced by the stagnation of the Jedi and their haggard old ways, something with which Revan was quite familiar. They limited her, controlled her, as they did many padawans. And so Revan expounded to her the failures of the Sith, offering a spot in their venerable march as an alternative.
And, as with the turncoat-students, he was rejected. Though Dal complimented him for his silver tongue, and K'Satra's unwavering devotion to the Republic's ideals.
Revan looked upon Hord's tomb from a distance, but felt himself drawn to Ajunta Pall's instead. It was a call, an echo from an ancient time, that resonated with him. It begged him to come and look upon a story, a tale of another age. It sung regret and darkness, but meaning as well. Purpose. What he'd given and taken away in the Mandalorian Wars. As he directed Carta and K'Satra to its unholy halls, to the hollowed plateau that boomed the grind of Korriban's tectonic plates, he laughed.
"...As we walk upon this planet, my memories return. My regrets, my rage, and my failures, alongside them. I…"
"What is it?" Carta asked.
"I haven't told you about her," he uttered, "about the Exile. You may have known her by another name - she was a general during the Mandalorian Wars, had joined us not long after we drew our first blood."
K'Satra's head perked up. "Wait, you're talking about Temera Vandis, right?"
"Indeed… I thought she had died, truth be told. Above the skies of Malachor V, I witnessed as she returned, escaping from the gravity wells and leaving us just as quickly… She…"
Many emotions played over Revan's face as he stopped to admire the tomb of the great dead. Carta began to worry, hand travelling to her pistol at the thought of Revan regaining his dark spirit, right then and there. But, he didn't. Carta marked a sadness to his eyes, one which Revan attempted to straighten immediately. With a blink, the thought was gone, but the Exile remained in his mind, on his lips.
"This may sound like nothing to you two, but as she left us, I could not feel her presence in the Force. She was as nothing; a shadow slipping into ostentatious light… Something, something that..."
"What, you think you have a use for her?" Carta asked. "How many people do we expect to take with us? How much room do you think we'll need on the Hawk?"
"Enough to fit a small army," K'Satra chuckled, "and, from the sounds, a former general."
"Indeed," Revan mumbled, "and it is but a thought. I doubt I'll see her again… My apologies, I've kept us waiting."
Traps, laid by servants past. A row of war droids were set to fire against the opposing row, which no doubt led to Ajunta's sarcophagus. They scrounged around in the dark, finding a datapad detailing a possible way past the planned assault, and pressed onward. Revan's fingers crackled with energy, as his clothing billowed in the icy winds of the underground. He was not possessed, no, but felt a pull to a force presence, barely a whisper among Korriban's howling energies.
And, as they unlocked the resting place of the First Dark Lady, they found it. A trace, an outline of a being, that became full once they discovered a trio of swords, and a statue. It was ethereal; a person neither here nor there, standing amidst her own grave. Though cloaked in shadows and death-garments, sadness was plain to see on her face. As Revan grabbed one of the blades, he stopped, and turned to face her.
"W-What the hell is that!?" K'Satra gasped, eyes wide in awe.
"A… A spirit," Carta answered.
Revan looked to the two of them, mouth agape.
"You two can see her? Right now; this," he motioned to the ghost, "you can see her!?"
"Y-Yeah, I mean, she's," K'Satra motioned to her as he did, "just look at her…"
The former Dark Lord kept that to himself. That was usage of the Force, however unintentional. He would've assumed Carta had at least a little command over it, seeing her daughter among the Sith students, but K'Satra, the Ulgo noble as well? Did that mean her entire family line… Revan shook his head. He'd have to think about it later, when they weren't gravetrotting.
"Too long... Too long in the cold and the dark. I am disturbed again? A human…" her voice spoke. A collection of whispers, culminating around their very ears, shooting tiny, cold breaths against their lobes. A decidedly, unanimously unsettling way to hear someone.
"Do... I know you?" she spoke, to Revan directly. "It... Seems as if we have met before…"
He nodded. "Perhaps, and perhaps not… Are you… Ajunta Pall?"
"I...Yes, that was my name. I was one of many. We were servants of the dark side... Ladies of the Sith, we called ourselves. So proud. In the end we were not so proud. We hid... Hid from those we had betrayed. We fell... And I knew it would be so…"
Her words carried the weight of regret. The weight of a life, wasted in the dark. Revan could sympathise all too well, eyeing the spectre carefully.
K'Satra shook her head, still. "What… An ancient Sith Lady, her ghost, I-"
"-Ancient? Has it really been that long? I… I have been here for so long... So lost… Among the first to fall, to darkness…" Pall's form uttered, from cracked lips. "So vain we were. So wrong... Those we betrayed-"
"-Your masters?" Revan asked. "You… Regret, betraying your masters?"
"...It is all I have done. Regret. Wrath shaped me into a bitter and broken blade, anger directed those in my empire against one another, fury left me empty… And in the end, they were not enough to destroy our masters… I should have known…"
"S-Sounds like someone we know," Carta mumbled, voice freezing as Ajunta's eyes met hers.
"At your death, you kept your spirit tied here… To watch? To observe?" Revan asked her.
She scoffed. "To keep a prideful eye over my empire… Not to watch it crumble. Not to see sister turn against sister, blood spilling blood… Not to be struck by… By…"
"...By guilt," K'Satra finished for her.
"By… Yes."
"Your blade," Revan cut to the point, staring at the statue once more, a boastful thing, and the ceremonial swords around them. "That is what led me here… You're tied to it, and... I have need of it. May I take it?"
"My sword... I filled it with my pride. And it is... Buried with me, now. A corpse as I am a corpse. To see it not rot, as I have… I..." she paused for a moment. "How would you use it? To wage war, to conquer, to betray as I did?"
Revan thought on that, a brilliant spark appearing in his eyes. "I would reforge it. To fight for a purpose purer than conquest. So that only vile blood may spill from the wounds it cuts," Revan swore. "So that you may begin to seek absolution. At least, some small part of your soul, Ajunta."
Her eyes snapped wide open, as if in recognition. "Revan."
If Carta had any doubt, it was shattered as that haunt raised a skeletal finger to point at him. Revan.
He nodded, again. "You may walk into light once more. For it does not judge, does not suffer, and it does not turn away. As I have strayed from the light and have been set back on it, so too may you, Ajunta."
Silence fell over the tomb. Nought but breath and the creak of the earth around them could be heard, cut short by a distant shriek of a creature. Spectral tears fell from the ghost's eyes, as she willed her tomb to unlock on it's own, revealing her mortal corpse and her legendary blade.
"I... Will not. No, not yet, I cannot… Not fully. Take… Take my blade, Revan, and grant it… With it, grant me absolution. Part of me shall remain with that blade, with you, until… Until it is done," she promised. "Take what you need from here and leave… Take me away from Korriban."
"...And so we shall."
Crystals, trinkets, and an artifact containing a fragment of a soul, Ajunta Pall's blade. Carta and K'Satra were shivering as they collected all they could from the hallowed ground, sparing a parting glance to the Dark Ladies' skeleton. At the end of it, they witnessed Revan adorning her dual-sided sword, testing it's balance, swinging in the cold air. He looked to them, eyes alight with an idea, a method with which he could purify Sith artifacts.
"Come," he implored them, "as the day unfolds, I feel we're exposed to more of fate's trickery. For instance, you two," he guided them back out the tomb, feeling aligned with the weapon in his hand.
"What about us? Something to do with the… The Sith Lady we saw back there?" Carta asked.
"You two show a command of the Force," he explained. "To will your eyes to see past the energies of all life in Korriban, to see her coalesce, it's-" he chuckled. "It's marvelous."
"You're-Wait, wait… You're saying we controlled the Force then? You sure it wasn't just you, doing something?" K'Satra scoffed, that shiver returning to her in full force.
"Controlled it on instinct. Directed it, as a child might. Carta, your daughter was selected as a pupil here, meaning someone saw her connection to the Force as well. It… Can be hereditary, and…" Revan found himself trailing, and stopped. "It may yet prove to be a boon. With training-"
"-Aren't Jedi trained from childhood? What good will it do us?" asked Carta.
"Who says you have to be Jedi?" Revan asked back, smiling. "It may also prove to be a whim, a one-off. If it progresses, I shall let you two know. For now, though, I ask you to return to the Ebon Hawk, and send Caldera and Zaalbar. I'll need them for what's next to come."
"Are you-" K'Satra asked, stopping herself as another thing roared within the tomb. "Just… Don't do anything stupid. The Wookiee's alright, but that Ordo gal…"
"Duly noted. If she bites, I'll bite back."
Sunlight and warmth greeted them. That dull, droning fuzz of heat that beat upon them was sorely missed, and they felt relief wash over them, as they parted. They spoke on whether or not a Dark Lady such as Pall deserved absolution, but, left no challenge in it, speaking idly. Carta spared one knowing glance to Revan before nodding his way. Keep my daughter safe, she thought. Revan couldn't read minds, but the feeling was clear enough. He told them to keep low, fast, and to hold onto any dark thoughts they had when traversing through the halls. Zaalbar would be fine, given her stoic composure, and dark thoughts seemed to permeate the Ordo lass.
And yet, despite his confidence, he found himself stopped by the headmistress' head honcho. A Twi'lek, with light purple skin, violet lekku, and facial markings. Brandings. She carried herself with absolute confidence, a trait which Revan admired, and her gaze appeared whimsical, if anything, when looking upon the two Republic soldiers.
"Greetings, intruder. Mistress Wynn is currently unavailable, but I'm more than happy to combat a potential threat. So tell me, do you have a name? Calling you Revan would be an-" She spoke with a powerful, husky voice, eliciting nothing but interest from Revan.
"-A joke," he smiled, sniggering, "that's a good one. No, I think I'll stick to that, despite your warnings. And I figured Uthirr wouldn't so much as pop her head out - I'm here to stir the mynock's nest, as it were - and I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name?"
"Yuthura. Yuthura Ban. So tell me, a little miss Shaarda came scrambling to me at the cantina, babbling about some Dark Lord having come back from the dead. I know my history, I know only of one Dark Lord, and you certainly don't look like him," she spoke as she evaluated him, with darkened, predatory eyes.
"My name doesn't matter, and I think you know as much," he quirked his head. "I'm here to combat your current headmistress, to depose her and kill her if need be. If you wish to fight me, we can go through the song and dance of combat, or…"
"Or what? You could waste my time? Deprive me the pleasure of killing a madman?" she smiled, chuckling at him.
"You could organise the fight, lie and rave about how I bested you in combat, and poison Uthirr Wynn's room while she's distracted. While the students gather," he offered her, stepping out of the shade of the cliffside and staring to the valley's solemn statues.
"And exactly why-"
"-To feed your passion, to nab her power, to claim victory over her, to break the chains of her command and lead this Academy for yourself, Yuthura," Revan attempted to allure her, feigning his way through the aftermath of the fight.
Suddenly, Yuthura's smile died. "You… Know our code."
"I also know that when Jorai Uln was headmistress, each student was to present to her a beast's head as part of their initiation. Out of her entire tenure, only one brought the head of a terentatek to her feet - mistress Uthirr. It's why Uthirr has a nasty scar on her back, if I'm not mistaken," Revan expounded, as if pouring through an old memory.
"You-" Yuthura stopped herself, cutting her words short.
"Now, you were about to strike me down? Come then, give that saber a good whirl," he insisted, opening himself up for attack, proudly brandishing Ajunta's blade in the process.
"A-Alright," Yuthura felt her throat tighten in a sickening manner, reminded of the power lorded over her many years ago. "I'll… I'll go back to Mistress Wynn. Just," she backed away from him, "leave me be. Whoever you are."
Satisfied, they parted. Revan took pride in another foundation shook, and Yuthura leapt at the chance to betray her headmistress. Turning his head towards Tulak's tomb, the former Dark Lord spotted another young soul, positively brimming with bristling fury. She was fiddling with something; a sonic emitter, and eyed Revan dangerously as he approached.
"Unless you're willing to aide me in slaughtering some tuk'ata, I'd suggest you walk away, fool," she warned him, dirtying her hands as she stood up from the sand, her blonde hair bobbing slightly.
"Out of the goodness of my heart, I'd love to," Revan twirled the double-blade in his hands, winking at her. "I've always wanted to fight side-by-side with a beautiful woman."
"Keep that glib tongue in your mouth, I've no need for it," she smirked. "The name's Lashowe. You should learn it quick, for I've almost earnt enough prestige to proceed in further training with the mistress."
"I'd give you my name," he bowed to her, "but it's terribly worn out. Even Miss Ban refused to call me by it."
"You suppose I should just call you hutt-slug, then?"
"Did you say hutt-slut?" Revan questioned, giving the woman an incredulous look. "Never mind, it'll have to do. The tuk'ata approach!"
They dealt with the beasts swiftly, Revan noticing a throbbing red pyramid lodged in the gullet of the den-mother. Their horns and speed were no match for Jedi precognition, and soon they lorded over their bodies, Lashowe attempting to extract what looked like a holocron from the mother's mouth. She struggled, failing to get her hands deep enough past tattered flesh, so he lent a hand. Revan tried not to look feverishly interested, but this may just have been the holocron he was searching for...
"Ah-ah! I will be the one to deliver this device to Mistress Uthirr's hands, slug! Keep your hands off it!" Lashowe warned, flicking a vibro-knife out his way.
"Miss Lashowe," Revan pinched the bridge of his nose, trailing blood on it, "do you know what a holocron is? Do you know what use would you find in it if you could crack it open yourself?"
To her credit, she paused, but shook her head. "Indeed I do. They are often locked. The headmistress hordes them along with the other artifacts, as she can't open them either. They chronicle the Sith's history, and prestige is to be found there."
"There are ways to unlock them," Revan advised, eyes matching hers, tearing open the last remaining membrane that had grown over the holocron. "Ways to see what the Sith hid, to learn new techniques, Lashowe… I can show you them."
She scoffed. "Pfft… Come then, slug. Show me this method."
Extracting the device from the remains of the tuk'ata mother, Revan placed it on dry ground, dusting off the fluids and cancerous flesh that had encased the dark artifact. His hands instinctively went to an activation button, but, he hesitated, one hand darting to Ajunta's blade. In a second of focus, swirling through Korriban's arid tides of Force-energy, Revan centred himself as he laid hands upon the device. Upon it's tessellating, textured metal surface. Upon it's inexplicable chill, and it's bare hatred.
Closing his eyes, he connected with it. Saw into the recording without filter; and found disappointment. It was not a lesson nor a guide, but simply a record. A corrupted one, at that, but one not relevant to him. It went through the summary of Hord's life, describing each kill and battle with a spitting, vile curse that interlaced itself with every fibre of the holocron's data-drive. It weaved scorn and fury into every little detail, into each face and memory, empowering Revan however briefly with it all.
He distanced himself before too long. Before he bled into that hatred again, before he began to seek vengeance. He cut the thought of the Jedi Council away, and felt himself calmer for it. And then it hit him. In that second, he toiled. He cut. Thinking that he was somehow amplified by the spirit-blade at his side, Revan sawed away at the fat of Hord's ramblings, Hord's unbridled malice. Purged the information until it was almost raw data. Hord's opinions, words still remained, but they remained just that. Words.
"On second thought," Revan chuckled to himself, snapping back to reality in a second more, "perhaps it'd be easiest if we hit the large button on it's side."
And thus, he revealed to Lashowe the contents of the holocron. Tulak's life, as destructive as it was, her gaining the allegiance of a dashade by the name of Khem Val, their bitter suspicion against something named Kallig, and Hord's eventual death by the hands of her apprentice, Ortan Cela. As the recording finished, minutes ticking by as Korriban's sun set, Lashowe remained kneeling in the sand and viscera of slain tuk'ata.
"...What a waste of our time. Here's hoping mistress Uthirr doesn't dismiss it as I have… Still, you assisted me, so… Thank you, slug. Don't you worry, I'll be sure to tell the mistress of your input."
Revan grinned. "You're too kind, miss Lashowe."
She left him without a further word, and Revan looked to the sky - the yellow-orange of the sun's rays bleeding into a wondrous, sickly twilight of dark purple. The stars were poking out, and the Sith were making their way back into the Academy, save for a single excavation crew protected by some guards. Zaalbar and Caldera were still nowhere to be seen, so Revan affirmed his goal and pressed onwards, into Hord's tomb proper.
He enjoyed a modicum of pride as he slipped through the scattered tuk'ata within the tomb, hearing whispers on the edge of his ears. He'd successfully purged the dark taint from a holocron, and had gained the allegiance of a dying Lady within a blade. Though his goals were still far away, still nearly impossible, he was making progress. Slipping past half-completed trials and fresh laser-scoring, Revan took note of the damage to the walls, and the footprints in the dust below him.
Boots. Bare feet. Tuk'ata paws. More whispers.
A scent tickled his nostrils, and his eyes lit with horror. Wasting no time in falling back on an old technique, Revan allied the Force to his lungs, to his nostrils, keeping his breaths minimal, if not non-existent. The air he breathed wasn't as clean as he liked, nor could he avoid that dizzy feeling, but he surmised it was to do with his much-needed recovery. His retraining in the Force, realignment with himself.
Colour filtered into the gentle fog that appeared to be ubiquitous in these tombs, a slight green tinge to the gas that had tried to poison him. And then, as if to collect prey lured into a trap, a set of doors opened at the end of a hallway, what Revan assumed led to Tulak's sarcophagus.
"Oh, isn't this grand?" he heard a familiar voice, Jorai Uln, mumbling to herself. "First, the Dark Lady Malak, came and went, then, a morsel of Mekel, in my trap, and now… Wait-"
Silently, he struck her. Driving Ajunta Pall's blade through her heart, clamping his hand shut tight around her mouth, Revan made eye contact with the former headmistress as he laid her on the cold, cold ground. Like many students she had sent to their early graves, like the many that had perished under her tutelage, she spilt her lifeblood on Korriban's ground. He knew of her. Oversaw her methods as she guided the future classes of Sith apprentices. Revan gave her no sympathy, for she would spit it back in his face.
"R-Revan," she spat, blood pooling at the back of her throat. He looked at her in disgust as she coughed, laughing at him. "An honour… T-To be slain, at your hand!"
"You spoke of Malak. Elaborate before you die, headmistress."
"Oh, but of c-course," her eyes nearly bulged with insane delight as she darted her gaze back to the final chamber of the tomb, "a holocron, she t-took… Some days past… Thought I could… Lay a trap…"
Revan balked. He watched the colour leave her skin; the light leave her eyes as he retrieved his blade. And he shut them, laying hands upon her body, feeling her essence depart her mortal form. His hands began to shake as he stepped forward. Rushing now, into Tulak's grave. It was a circular, stone dome, much like Ajunta's, but this felt colder. Devoid of almost all life, depriving one of breath if they weren't careful.
He left a still-breathing, barely conscious body on the ground; a woman 'round her early 30s, a touch younger than Mistress Wynn. Another student. He left her there to awaken as he rifled through the dead's belongings, finding more lightsaber-crystals, more weapons, more ceremonial armour and withered robes, but no holocrons. Nothing of note that Malak hadn't taken before him. A failure.
She had beat him.
"Damn it. Damn it all!" he shouted, letting the icy fog temper his rage. A setback it was, but he couldn't let it stop him. He still had to fight Malak - this was only the easiest solution he could think of. The plan had to go on, in spite of it's difficulty. So he spent minutes, there in the cold bowels of Korriban, gathering his resolve. And sighed.
He still had the blade of Ajunta Pall at his side. He still had the Sithlings all but allied to him. There was enough raw material and refined mechanical bits to rebuild lightsabers, if he so wished - or to merge a lightsaber's design in with Ajunta's blade! Yes, he was beaten, and yes, Malak would now most likely skewer him with ease, but Revan picked himself up. And then, he picked up the body on the ground, slinging her over his shoulders.
She grumbled, voice raspy and deep. "H-Hey, w-w-wait-"
"-Relax, Uln is dead. I'll take you to the exterior and let you rest. What's your name?" Revan asked.
"M-M… Mekel… Th-Thank you…"
Korriban's many moons were clear in the sky now - shining a full array of light down upon the planet's surface. The last remnants of sunlight were disappearing beyond the horizon's edge, which meant beasts were going to be roaming above ground soon. Still, Revan walked slowly, steady, sitting by Mekel's side as she recovered, leaning against him for support.
"I take it this is your first time being poisoned," he snickered, "worry not. I shall protect you if needed."
Her razor-shaved black hair ground gently against his simple robes, as she rose to speak. "I don't… I don't deserve that. I… Hurt people…"
"No one deserves to die at the whims of another. Not for another's fun," Revan assured her with all honesty. "It was happenstance that I found you, you know. Did you fancy yourself ruthless prior to this? I'm only asking because I've been on both sides of the power dynamic recently, and-"
Guilt gnarled its way into Mekel's features as she scratched her cheek, staring blankly ahead.
"-I'm rambling," Revan sighed, feeling frustration mount. He shut his eyes, placing his digits against Mekel's shoulders, channeling the Force's natural healing energies. Mending nerves, mainly, suspecting that Jorai had shocked her into submission and back. Mekel responded by relaxing, just a tad, before tensing soon again.
"Mekel… I'm unsure of your previous actions, but given your reaction to Uln's handiwork… I'd say you need some time away from the Sith. Away from this cannibalistic contest for power. It will drive you mad, much like Uln. And you won't recover from it like you did today. It will eat at you."
"Of course," Revan continued, standing, "you can ignore my words and continue here. Just know that things will change, and… Well, you might not have an amnesiac Sith Lord to rescue you again." Enshrouded in an emergency blanket, retrieved from a nearby container, Mekel blinked rapidly, mouth agape.
"What?"
"In due time, it'll all make sense. Ah, Madam Ordo, Zaalbar!" Revan greeted both, bowing low. The Mando gave the quivering Sith girl a short look before she levelled her gaze at Revan, running across the dark sands.
"Look, I don't know what you've done, but the head woman in there's out for blood. They're saying she'll start rifling through the ship and coming out here for you, if you don't meet her yourself," Caldera warned him, darting a glance to Zaalbar.
"I smell trouble. This won't end well," the wookiee yowled lowly, eyes trained on the predators high on the cliffside, keeping at bay for the moment.
"Then we waste no further time," Revan sighed, extending a hand out to Mekel. "I think you should see this for yourself, madam."
And so, to the Sith Academy they returned.