Revelations

Dante read through the report, as he saw a familiar face present itself on the screen. It was of a young male, his blue eyes were bright, and he had short, spiky raven hair. "No," Dante whispered, as he realized who the original host was. The face was much younger, a bit more exuberant, and it was obviously an outdated image of the person.

Revan.

The person who was the result of the creation of the Alpha assassins, the Beta warrior and the seemingly rakghoul mutants was Revan. The forefather of all the darkness that these things were made out to be.

Dante sighed and lowered his gaze as he read more. The runaways consisted of four figures. 3 mutants and one twin. As he read who the twin was, he felt a coldness run through his body, as his world came crashing down on him. The twin was a person close to him—someone who had inherited every aspect of the former Dark Lord of the Sith, save in gender. The runaway, was in fact, Rena Naver.

"Rena," he whispered. "Why didn't you ever tell me?" He remembered that day—he found her on Corellia, running for her life from a group of so-called slavers. He cut them down, he protected her, and took it upon himself to train her. She was like a daughter to him. He could feel his anger rising in him at the potential betrayal. His hands gripped the console, as he fought hard to control himself.

The Dark Side surrounds the building—reaching out towards others and ensnare them in its web.

He sighed, knowing that somehow, she might have been trying to tell him all this time. Rena, he thought, I must protect you now, more than ever. He downloaded the file and deleted everything in the system's mainframe about Revan. But before he could do that, he had one last thing to open. The Promised Ones. What he saw caused him to grow in rage—he saw the deaths of Gideon, the escape of Toll, the slaughtering of the other failed Revan experiments. But most of all, he saw the name of those who had commissioned this project. The Senators of all the worlds that had come to no immediate harm during the Jedi Civil War and the Mandalorian Wars. Republic Intelligence Director Tamar Gran'gerst, General Erik Scrimshaw of the Republic Navy, he sighed, all of them. His eyes moved towards another name—one that they had been searching for all this time. Traya.

He felt his anger, his rage, every conceivable frustration directed at her, as he felt the rank state of the Dark Side coursing from the lower levels to the top. He knew the experiments were occurring in the lower levels—in the sub-levels of the structure. It was Traya's fault, he determined. She created them to wipe us out—all of us. Now I shall destroy her dreams and hopes for a Galaxy burning.

I'll make sure to visit you personally—you and I have something to talk about. Soon I will meet you, then I shall destroy you and I will become the most powerful and unstoppable being in the Galaxy.

"Would you really be willing to commit to that, Dante?" An old, familiar and wizened voice asked him.

It was a voice Dante hadn't heard in a long time.

"Alec," Dante whispered, as he saw the blue shrouded figure of his former Master appear before his eyes.

The Master appeared as Dante remembered, only slightly younger, more youthful. His silver hair was still slicked back, yet he still retained his scars. His clear blue eyes and his neatly trimmed beard appeared the same. Somehow, his appearance made Dante feel safer—and much younger. "Dante, do you remember what I told you when we spoke like this on the Thunderbolt?"

"It's been so long."

"Dante, you are strong in the Force and wise. Stay true to who you are; the Force will forever guide you." He sighed and moved closer to his former student, his expression revealing full empathy. "Do not give in to the Dark Side—there is something far more elusive that is attempting to control you. The Dark Side is a pathway to a life of suffering, defeat and most of all, internal destruction. There have been few who have ever returned from that path."

"I've had to live with your deaths for so long—I am not ready for another," he replied defensively.

Alec brought his hands out in a non-threatening, but obviously placating manner.

Dante had seen him do it before.

"The Dark Side will only continue to fuel your rage and twist your desires. Our deaths came as the Force willed. The powers that be are greater than even you or I could comprehend."

"The Unifying Force has done nothing to bridge the gap between us and the Sith. We are failing and if I end this now, I can save the Galaxy."

"The Galaxy will continue to move as the Force dictates. Remember what you have learned in your life. Stay strong Dante, this place is of the Dark Side. It will consume everything. You will need to rely on your training to survive—and you must survive."

"The Light consumed those whom I loved."

"It took us because the Force needed us to help further the protection of the future. You're teaching the future Dante. What you do now, will forever echo throughout the generations to come. Our deaths have helped you to overcome your darker aspects—the shadows that sought to consume you."

"They still seek to consume me, Master," Dante replied sourly.

"But the fact you are still here, debating against the Darkness within yourself, tells you how far you've come since our paths separated. You've become far more powerful as a person, and I foresee that your destiny still has a long way to come. Rena is your future—you must protect her at all costs."

"I have had premonitions of her falling," he replied, somewhat sheepishly.

"You must overcome the Darkness within and reach your fulcrum. You will be able to save her only by accomplishing that. When the time comes, you will face the Darkness as another."

"What do you mean?"

The shrouded figure's eyes shifted towards the ground. "I am sorry, Dante, but that is all I can tell you. The future is always in motion, full of many possibilities. What you do now will define what future will occur. Be wary of your actions, for this will inevitably have an effect on the way of the Force."

Dante looked down to the ground in shame. "Master, I am sorry. I have failed you."

Nonsense, Alec replied, snorting in his usual manner. "You are a gifted Jedi—you've just fallen on hard times. You've done a great thing, trying to rebuild the Order and I know that in time, you will seek out Revan. But Dante," he said, cupping one hand under Dante's chin and lifting his face to see the young man he had essentially raised. "You must stay strong. I will always be with you, but events are still being played out. You are a key figure in all of this, all that is left for you to do now, is to complete your part and live."

Dante looked at his Master determinedly. "I will, Master." He felt nothing but warmth emanate from the touch of his former Master.

Alec could only smile. "The time will come when you will be freed from all of these tasks, young one. Until then, know that you will never be alone—ever." With that, he faded away, leaving Dante to his own devices.

Dante blinked his eyes for a few moments, attempting to understand what had just happened. His eyes had been on the console the entire time. He could have sworn it had been there. He felt the residual presence of his former Master, and the words he had left behind. I'll protect Rena, Master, Dante swore silently. I will overcome the Darkness.

He closed the console and moved away from it. Now, I need some answers. He walked through the corridor and into the adjoining one, without any resistance.

He saw a doorway and two thicker Sith wardroids standing comfortably by the doors, cradling heavy repeating carbines.

Oh, just perfect, he thought. He rotated the lightsaber in his hand, knowing full well that it was his best choice to eliminate those droids. It was likely his heavy blaster wouldn't be able to handle the two droids, even if it was a Mandalorian weapon. His other hand moved behind his back, under the longcoat, as he removed a familiar bronze coloured lightsaber. Here's to you, Master, Dante thought, as he ignited his sapphire lightsaber in his right hand, while the viridian blade glowed in his left.

The droids shifted their attention to the snap-hiss and steadied their blasters as they moved towards where their audio-receptors picked up the sound.

Timing it, Dante turned the corner and raced towards them, his lightsabers moving about in several patterns, deflected the energy bolts, sending a few striking into the heavy armour the droids sported.

As the droids stood still and poured out relentless fire, they didn't anticipate the likelihood of facing a Jedi.

Dante closed the gap between then, shifting the blades in his hands and angling the blades behind him, as he raced between them. He arced his arms towards one another, as they stopped in front of his chest, fist to fist and the lightsabers' blades thrummed perpendicular to him.

The clattering of metal sounded behind him.

He turned around and saw both droids lying on the ground, in halves. Never doubt the Jedi, he smiled, as he deactivated the viridian blade and holstered it under his coat. He walked towards the door and it opened.


Tamar sat comfortably in his office, staring away from the doorway as he stared out at the livelihood of Corellia. Ah, sweet Corellia, he thought, as he brought a glass of Corellian brandy to his mouth, sipping it and swishing it in his mouth, tasting the sweet amber liquid. A toast to the end of the Jedi, he smiled, after the liquid went coursing down his throat.

He enjoyed the fact that his facility had been the focal point of Traya's plan to create the army of their own Jedi. What he was doing, was creating a new era of the Republic—a time to bring a new order of Jedi into the Galaxy. Jedi that would be unerringly loyal to the Republic and the Galaxy.

Though he regretted the fact that Forn Dodonna had essentially dissolved the Republic, at least the Core Worlds contained some semblance of the Republic, calling the Core World coalition the New Republic. Perhaps these new Jedi would protect the new era—and I could run for the new Supreme Chancellor. He sighed as he thought of Dodonna. It was a shame she had stepped down. He had enjoyed seeing her at every meeting and had even entertained the notion of having intimate relations with her.

Before he could dwell further on Dodonna, he heard the thrumming of lightsabers by his doorway. What? He swiveled around in his chair, rising as the doorway opened and he saw a brown skinned human dressed darkly brandishing a blue lightsaber looking at him.

"Sit," the Jedi said darkly.

Tamar did exactly that. From the appearance of the human, Tamar deduced he was one of the few who were still in the Temple. From the man's appearance, Tamar deduced the Jedi's name was Dante Ravenmoon.

"It seems you have a lot to answer for, Director."

"Perhaps," he replied calmly, as his fur slightly bristled under the tension. His hand slowly went lower, under the desk as he felt for the holdout blaster he kept there.

If Dante appeared to know what he was doing, the Jedi didn't show it. "Tell me about Operation: Guardian Shield."

"I believe if you already know the name of it, you would have figured out what it really is," Tamar replied, attempting to remain in control of the conversation that was occurring.

"Oh really? Tell me, Director, why did you choose to clone Jedi? Why Revan's DNA?"

"I think it is quite obvious," he replied, attempting to buy time as he grabbed the holdout blaster.

"No riddles. I want the truth."

"The truth?" The Bothan scoffed. "Why Revan's DNA? It is quite obvious—he managed to revive life in the Republic during the Mandalorian Wars. I took part in that war and I've seen firsthand what had happened. The question was, where could we find Revan's DNA? It was provided to us."

"By whom?"

"By Traya. She served on the Council, shortly before she chose to leave during the Jedi Civil War. How she chose to obtain his DNA hardly matters to me. We were given it a year after the Mandalorian wars."

That's almost 15 years—which Traya is he referring to? Dante kept his lightsaber poised, facing the Bothan. "Why did you choose to clone Jedi?"

The Bothan sighed. "We saw firsthand the devastation the Jedi wrought during both wars. Several of us knew what would happen if the Jedi chose to rebel against the Republic. We cloned Jedi on our side—Jedi who we could control. They would be completely loyal to us—to the Republic! Not like you," he hissed. He rose, leveling his blaster at Dante. He squeezed the trigger and felt a hot searing pain come across his wrist.

Dante noticed the blaster long before and with little motion, he severed the Bothan's hand, leaving him to cradle the stump as he fell back to his seat again. "Please continue," he replied.

Tamar couldn't scream, as he felt the searing pain where his hand used to be. No! He thought. "The pain," he gasped.

"The pain will cease, as soon as you tell me," Dante replied, apathetic to the Director's pain. "Now, please continue."

Gasping, he looked at Dante, who stared back, with his dark, soulless eyes. There was no mirth to his expression—not even a twinkle in his eyes.

"Fine," he mustered, attempting to gain control over himself as he began to sweat. He grabbed the bottle of brandy, having long since knocked over the cup. And he popped open the bottle, guzzling several precious mouthfuls of the liquid.

Dante, morbidly amused, allowed the Director to drink.

"The Jedi were promised to us by Traya. She-she is far more powerful than you think. She gave us the trainers, the DNA—everything."

"And what happened in the cloning?"

"It was a failure. We cloned the first batch," Tamar replied, in between breaths. "Many had gone insane—we didn't know why."

The Force, Dante thought. They went insane because they couldn't handle the raw power of the Force—and that they all felt the same.

"So we had to put down a few. The others began to act strangely—some began to cut themselves, others began to take on deformities. But there were six that were perfect," he said, knowing full well he told Traya that there were only four.

"And what happened to them?" Dante asked, as he watched the Bothan, who was sweating heavily now, take in a mouthful of his precious alcohol.

"They had formed links to one another, somehow wiping out the insanity that happened with the others. There was something strange in the genetic process—something we had never anticipated. They were all clones of Revan, but they took on their own independent traits. Some had the ability to select their gender during the process. We had female Revans as a result. There were two of them, who were part of the perfects we dubbed Alphas."

"Go on," Dante said, his mind racing with the information.

"One of the females began to have dreams—we found out that the nightmares she was having, was really a connection she had somehow formed with their host."

"Revan."

"Yes," he gasped, the pain subsiding, as the alcohol began to slowly affect his mind. "We dubbed the Alphas the 'Naver' family. We chose Naver because we thought it added to the creativity and honour of their host. You see, Naver is Revan, backwards."

You're nothing more than a monster, Director, Dante thought, as he listened patiently.

"We named them, Horn, Torn, Diara, Rena, Malik, Tainer," he chuckled. "Malik and Tainer died a few days later after they had bonded to one another. They were 8 years of age. We found out that Horn and Torn were the ones who were responsible for it. They joined the assassin training."

"What else?"

"Rena went insane," he began, "with the nightmares." He began to laugh for a moment. "Diara was killed after an accident, which prompted Rena to escape. This happened quite some time ago. We didn't realize she had joined you until one of the Senators noticed her at some ceremony with your Jedi."

Dante's expression darkened with fury, as he watched the Bothan laugh.

"She escaped, causing a riot within the mutants and we thought she had died. You came to her rescue. But there is more—we had several other Revan clones that seemed perfect, but had some disabilities. There were a few, and they were blind, deaf or mute. We gave them names, but one of them was far more powerful in your so-called Force. We called him Deus—and we fitted him with eye and voice prosthetics. He is far more powerful than Revan," he chuckled, undoubtedly proud of Deus. "And he is exceptionally skilled in lightsaber combat—the best there ever will be."

"Why exactly did you do it, Director?"

"Money, power, honour, fame—you name it. I did it all because of that, but most of all, I hated you Jedi. I hate you even now. You were the reasons why the Galaxy is like this. If it weren't for Revan, we would have been destroyed, while your precious Order sat so sullenly and safely within your Temple. This was the ultimate way to ensure the Jedi would bolster us in war."

"No, Director, what you did was far worse than anything we could ever have done." Dante's expression seemed sincere and dark at the same time. The Director had been played for a fool and had done the bidding of Traya.

"Worse?" He asked incredulously.

"You aided the Dark Jedi and handed over the Galaxy to them on a silver platter. Traya played you for a fool."

"No she didn't!"

"Of course she did. You're just too drunk to realize it. Do you think she'd let you live after all of this?"

And then it dawned on Tamar. He looked at Dante, in pure rage. "You won't succeed with your mind tricks, Jedi, I've been trained to resist them."

"I wouldn't even use a simple trick on you—even if you are drunk. I just need to know one more thing, Director," Dante asked, as the lightsaber filled the silence.

"What is it?"

"What does Traya look like?"

Tamar smiled. "She's a pretty one. White hair, strong jaw, regal by the looks of her. She could be Echani."

Atris, Dante thought bitterly, as he struggled to keep his anger in check. Before he could say anything more, he felt a ripple of the Force. His eyes went wide opened as he rolled off to the side and saw two Dark Jedi decloak in front of him.

Tamar laughed. "Now see, these are my Jedi! Say hello to Horn and Torn Naver!"

The assassins looked at Tamar.

"Kill him," Tamar ordered, "show him where your loyalties lie. He has your sister."

The assassins didn't move, and Dante rose, as he felt their presences. Tamar had been telling him the truth. They were clones of Revan. That also meant his sweet Rena was an aberration as well. His heart sunk a bit, but he paid attention to the altercation.

"Kill him! Just don't stand there!"

Horn looked at his brother and nodded. Kill him, as per the Mistress' orders.

With an extended hand, Torn sent Tamar crashing through the window, falling to his death. It is done, of course, brother.

Dante eyed them, as they ignited their crimson lightsabers. Oh Sith, he thought. Their strength in the Force was great, and it meant only more trouble for Dante. He brought his blade up, and deflected the thrust of Horn, as he felt Torn approach behind him.

Torn slash at Dante's back, causing the Jedi to leap over the pair and land onto the desk of the late Director.

The Naver twins stared at Dante, sizing him up.

This one is skilled, brother, Horn relayed to his brother.

He shall prove most challenging, Torn replied.

Dante readied himself as the dark Naver twins began to move towards him slowly, their weapons poised to strike.


Author's Notes: And there you have it, folks. The actual identity behind Rena, Deus, the Naver Twins and a bunch of other stuff. Now, we get to see what happens to the Galaxy and what the Force has in store for Rena, Deus and the others.