The Twi'lek moved with great flourish as she slowly paced in front of the Ebon Hawk crew. Her eyes were wild with triumph, a malicious grin danced on her lips. She raised her head in practiced ease to speak to the entire room. "Some of you may be wondering how I came to be here today, a Sith master. I assure you, it was not easy, but I did have assistance along the way. My first teacher was the Order… yes, the self-righteous Jedi Council you all so stupidly admire. They taught me the way of the Force, or so they said. They hid the truth from me, as they hide it from you now. The Force is not some benevolent power of harmony and peace: it is a feral chaos seeking destruction. The Jedi rein that strength, twist it to their purpose. But we Sith understand the true nature of this power, we unleash it in all its glory and direct it towards its goal. Why do you think so many Jedi leave to follow this path? They call us fallen, but we are truly ascended."
"You always loved to hear yourself talk, didn't you, Yuthura?" Jolee growled at her. He had broken free of the stasis, but the false diplomat guarding him grabbed his arms. A trooper trained his weapon at the old Jedi, which caused Jolee to cease his struggle. The Twi'lek reeled around, her eyes narrowed on him.
"Jolee Bindo, you understand the best, don't you? Your own wife, Nayama, was a great Sith warrior with Exar Kun. You trained her yourself, did you not? A most excellent pupil, you must have been so proud to see her slaughter so many." Jolee's anger boiled within him, but he was not given the chance to react or respond. Yuthura thrust her palm at Jolee and his breath caught in his throat; his lungs began to burn. She slowly lifted her arm, and Jolee followed, his feet leaving the ground heels first. She hung him high above the crowd just long enough, then tightened her hand into a fist. Jolee's frenzied efforts to breathe suddenly ceased, his body became limp. She slammed her hand downward; Jolee crumpled to the floor violently. She then shocked his motionless body. "That is for interrupting me, how very rude."
Mission wanted to scream, it echoed in her mind but never made it to her lips. Jolee landed just outside her line of vision: she could not tell if he were…she didn't want to think about that. She heard nothing from his direction; the silence was maddening. She could see Bastila, wavering slightly. Canderous too seemed to be making small movements. She wasn't the only one to notice. Flashes of lightning coiled around them all. Mission felt the jolt in her heart. She felt as if she would faint, but she could not fall down. And she could not close her eyes. Yuthura looked up from her handiwork, smiling that sickening, perverse smile.
"Now, where was I? Ah yes…. After I left the Order, I found myself at the Sith Academy, naturally. I had become apprentice to the Sith headmaster, and in such a position, I had my pick of the crop from hopeful prospects to train. And some months ago, there was quite a prospect at our door. I claimed her as my apprentice at once; I could sense her dark power. It was intoxicating to be so close to such strength. With her able and willing assistance, we completed thee ultimate Sith rite of passage: we struck down my former teacher and I assumed his mantle. And so, the apprentice became the master."
Carth was sick to his stomach. He knew she was referring to Jiara. She was there on Republic business, finding a Star Map, but that would be left out of the story, of course. He had accompanied her on Korriban; she was able to sneak him into the academy by claiming he was her slave, which forced him to call her master all the while there. She had teased him afterwards: 'I like it when you talk to me that way, Carth.' The memory of her voice briefly lent him joy. His thoughts then wandered to Dustil; finding him there in the dorms was a sweet pain. The reunion wasn't what Carth had hoped for, but at least he now knew his son was alive, and safe—maybe. He had not heard from his son since Korriban. Dustil wanted to sort things out—he was so hurt and furious at life, at his father. Jiara had tried to help calm his anger by showing Dustil the truth of the Sith. Not this junk Yuthura was spouting, Carth thought. What was she going on about? Yuthura's speech drifted back to Carth.
"….it was at that moment, I knew there was a greater destiny for me," Yuthura continued. "Our mighty empire was in disarray, I thought to send a signal, a message to our brethren. So we assembled a small team; we have been here on Coruscant for some time, plotting revenge on those who laid us so low." Her heated stare at the crew lingered. "Our original plans…well, now I see they were so modest, for we have more than we ever had hoped!" Her laughter peeled through the ballroom. "With Malak gone, the Sith cried out for a new leader, one who could gather our scattered forces, return our glory. Many attempted to seize the title, but only one may claim it. Do you presume that I have assumed myself as the new Dark Lord?" Yuthura chuckled. "Oh no, dear children, the rite of passage is completed again: the apprentice is now the master once more." Yuthura bowed deeply as she turned to face the doorway. A figure, small in stature, but large in presence, seemed to glide into the room. The black and grey robes floated gracefully around the slender figure. The dark Jedi also bowed low, making the hooded one appear to grow taller. Yuthura regained her full height. "All hail Darth Revan!" she called loudly. The Sith began to chant, Revan's name reverberated in the ballroom.
"Nooo!" Carth broke the spell, his anguished voice rising above the chant. As if in response, the figure lowered the hood: Jiara's face was there, staring back at him. A cruel gaze fixed on Carth as she reached to her chest. There was the Star Forge medal, pinned to her robe. She yanked at it, ripping it away from its fastening. With a laugh, she flung it at his feet.
"Master!" HK-47 ran from the back of the room. Revan looked up with alarm as Yuthura sent a wave of energy at the droid, sending it skidding backwards in a heap. She looked back to Revan, and they nodded in unison. Revan lifted the hood over her head and floated back down the hall. The dark Jedi quickly filed through the door behind her. Yuthura motioned to the false diplomats. They administered a final shock to the crowd as they moved to join their comrades. The last thing Carth could remember was Yuthura's laughter burning in his ears as he fell forward, slamming hard to the floor. As darkness closed around him, he stared at Jiara's medal, mere inches from his face.