AN: I own neither Percy Jackson or Star Wars. At times this chapter deals with the Sith, as such it is incredibly dark. I have left warnings where the content delves into these subjects.

With Percy…

My eyes snap open and the first thing I notice, besides the darkness, is the overwhelming heat clawing its way into my climate-controlled suit, this thing is designed to resist hard vacuum and heat is bothering me? I'm not on Yavin IV anymore, that's for sure, it's too damned hot to be Yavin IV.

The confusing thing though is why I'm buried in something sand-like.I pull my head and bucket out of the pile of sand with a small sigh of relief, 'that's not sand that's granulated fire!' I shake my head to clear my thoughts while taking in my surroundingsthrough my bucket's sensors, taking note of my jetpack's empty fuel tank and the lack of power packs on my belt and also noticing I'm almost completely unarmed. Not going to lie, I panicked for a second when I realized I only had my Phrik enhanced Beskar dagger strapped to my back, my boot daggers, and gauntlet blades. I stop and take in a deep breath trying to remember how I got here.

'There was a flash of purple light and here I am… So, is this reality or a hallucination? More than likely a hallucination but I have no idea why it would strip me of all my weapons. Oh well, I'll survive anyway, but this place is a disaster zone. So... am I on Mandalore, Tatooine, Geonosis, Jakku, Malachor, or one of the other hundred desert planets in this damned galaxy? Okay observations first, there's a single sun so it can't be Tatooine and it's white so this can't be Geonosis. The sand is red so it can't be Jakku, Mandalore, or Malachor… Well, Malachor One that is. It's the only planet in that system with a desert and an atmosphere capable of - somewhat - supporting life. Three are just giant rocks at the moment while Malachor Five might as well not exist considering what the Old Republic did to it.'

The sound of an approaching ship tears me from my thoughts, I whip around to see a low flying vessel appear on the horizon. It takes five minutes for the ship to come within range of my helmet's macrobinocular function, I don't recognize the hulking shuttle and start to get even more nervous without my weapons on me. The shuttle soars over my head and lands with it's the side facing me, instantly I recognize the symbol emblazoned on the side: the insignia of the Sith Empire. 'This isn't a hallucination - this is a memory…'

The landing ramp falls with an audible hiss letting a group of fifty scared and confused children stumble out of the shuttle with two Lasat guards following them with their red lightsabers, 'or would those be saberstaffs?' fully extended. My eyes turn from the group and their guards to a wire-thin blonde I instantly recognize. She may be younger but there's no denying that the cherubic blue-eyed blonde girl in front of me will go on to be Darth Nox, Dark Lady of the Sith. But as right now? She's just a terrified ten-year-old that wants to be anywhere but here.

Before I could think about it anymore, I find myself kneeling in front of the little girl not knowing what I can do to help her, the answer is nothing. I couldn't help the girl through the years of pain and despair. I watched Nox's whole life play out from the day she was brought to the Korriban, where one hated masked man walked off of the shuttle with a lightsaber in his hand and one on his hip.

"There are fifty of you here," the man called out to the children, "you are to cull the weak so we may find who is strong. If you prove yourself strong then you will be honored with a place in our ranks," he tosses the lightsaber into the sand as the Lasats move to either side of the group with lightsabers raised.

[AN Warning – Graphic Violence/Sensitive Content Begins]

"Failure to perform will result in your death, you may begin," the Lasats' faces remain stoic even as one child tries to run to the desert. Surprisingly he makes it out and into the expanse of hellish red sand, "ah, our first brave soul! He will not live through the night, some of you will try to follow him but I discourage this course of action. Perhaps you need some… motivation?" One of the guards steps forward, bringing his lightsaber down on one trembling boy's neck in one brutal, lethal arc. All except five of the children scream in horror as the boy's body falls limp on the to the sand as his head rolls in the opposite direction. The girl I'm still kneeling in front of looks conflicted for a beat but her face hardens in the next moment, I beg her not to do this but fall silent when I realize she can't hear me. I look down at the ground as she picks up the lightsaber for herself. She looks at the weapon, spinning the simple hilt in her hands with a look of curiosity on her face before igniting the humming blue blade.

"Yes, a Jedi's weapon. A Jedi I slew myself; he was weak and so are you. Thus, you will use a weakling's weapon," the masked man audibly sneers. The girl just glares up at him then turns around to face the other terrified children. She dashes toward a small group of seven trembling children huddled together first and dispatches them with five quick strokes of the saber. I scream at the girl pleading and begging her to stop this madness - but it's in vain.

Twelve others finally realize it's time to fight or to die and begin taking out the ones who haven't realized there will be no mercy on this world. Nox and a boy a year older than her tear through the children almost with relish. The fifty are reduced to fourteen in mere seconds with Nox using the lightsaber to cut down her fellows one by one, the other children without weapons resort to snapping necks or, more simply, beating the others to death.

The fourteen face-off against each other, quickly realizing that for them to live Kallig Nox would have to die. As one, the thirteen wash over Nox managing to tear the lightsaber from her grip while only losing the hyper-aggressive boy that fought alongside Nox for most of the slaughter.

The lightsaber rolls away from the writhing pile of flesh as fists fall on the girl's thin frame repeatedly. Her screams ring in my ears, accented by the sharp snapping of fractured ribs, while I try my hardest to help her in any way I can but I might as well try to move a star with my bare hands. Seconds later her screams of agony transform to howls of rage, I'm not sure what happened at that moment - what went through Nox's head - but the dogpile on top of the girl erupted away from her. Two of the assailants were launched twenty meters into the air as the others were blasted out and away coming to land in bizarre, unnatural positions in the unforgiving sand. The airborne two fell with a sickening thud and the sound of snapping necks, they would never rise again leaving eight fighters left to face off against the beast named Nox. The masked man stepped down from his shuttle with obvious interest.

But I didn't notice him.

I could only see the rage and hate swirling off the girl standing in front of me. Her emotions are palpable and damn near intoxicating, the Force swirling around us changing her eyes from her natural blue to a sickening gold as her face twists with incandescent fury. The no longer innocent girl's cherubic face turns demonic as the dark side's power overtakes her mind.

Her right-hand snaps out toward the Lasat closest to her, the giant sentient looks absolutely shocked when the lightsaber was actually torn from his grasp. The girl's eyes never left the children slowly climbing to their feet even as she spins the huge staff experimentally with a small smirk on her lips, then she charged her attackers.

The staff cut through every single one before most of them even had a chance to stand, she relentlessly cut down her opponents one after the other until there were only corpses lying in the sands of Korriban.

"What is your name?" The masked man stepped beside me as I knelt in front of the girl again with tears in my eyes and bile in my throat, this kind of slaughter would be too much even for a Mandalorian who's been hardened by the carnage of war. Children should be raised to be the strongest they can be, not culled like chattel.

"Kallig," she whispers while shaking of her head, her eyes change back to sky blue but this time they're filled with tears. The fog of the dark side lifts from her mind, bringing her to her knees. For a brief second, I almost think she can see me as she whispers "gods… what have I done…" tears sliding down her face from unfocused, blue eyes. The saberstaff deactivates as it slips from her limp fingers and into the sand. Her eyes meet my chest plate and widen to the size of a lightsaber emitter. The girl ran through me to get to the overturned corpse of the boy who fought at her side at the beginning of the fight, the boy was dead from a lightsaber stab to the heart. She knelt over him whispering a word while shaking him, begging him to wake up.

"Your brother, Boran Nox, dead at your hand. He could have been a fine apprentice, my own perhaps, but here we stand and there he lies," the masked man says in a bored tone.

"No… no, no, no!" Her eyes turn gold again as she charges down the masked man, he raises his hand and Nox is torn off her feet, hanging in the air by an invisible grip around her throat but her eyes are still burning gold.

"Yes… yes, give into your anger! Give into your hate! It fuels you, strengthens you!" The bored tone is gone as he gets in the little girl's face, working himself into a violent fervor, "you know loss, you know pain, 'tis true… but you have not learned enough," he summons the saberstaff to him with the force examining the weapon.

"Tauron! This is yours!?" The masked man asks casually.

"Yes, milord!" The Lasat kneels in front of the man.

"She stole what was yours… repay her in kind," the man says in a bored tone, letting go of the girl even as the giant alien's eyes sparkle with unholy glee.

"Vekin! Hold her," the alien looks down at the terrified girl who's still panting for breath. Her golden eyes now blue again even as they fill with confusion, fear, and horror when she realizes what the beasts plan to do to her. I force myself to turn away all while screaming at myself that I can't help her, that this isn't my fault, even as the girl screams in pure agony while the Lasat brutes take their pleasure from her beaten, broken body. I glare at the still-unnamed masked man standing with his arms crossed as he watches the girl's innocence be torn from her in ways that are unforgivable.

[AN – Graphic Violence/Sensitive Content End]

"I don't know who you are," I growl at the Sith that I'm face to face with now, "but history will never know you, you are doomed to be a footnote, a drop on the tide. Henceforth, I curse your days from this to your last that you shall not get away with this atrocity. You will die forgotten and weak, so I say so it shall be." I don't notice the nimbus of glowing golden light surrounding us but the Force sang in approval at the curse even as it screamed in pain as one of its daughters was raped in mind, body, and spirit.

Years pass by, the girl cries herself to sleep every night even as she's beaten and raped on a daily basis in the name of training but she never makes a sound under her abusers. Finally, the horrible day came where the girl shattered completely. Where a sixteen-year-old Kallig Nox finally and fully gave into the dark side of the force. She had given up on herself and hoped it would be her salvation, that the force would set her free. Hours of meditation later and the teen's eyes snapped open, eyes that wavered for years between blue and gold as she fought to find the light within her and bat down the rising darkness… until today.

Her eyes are now the familiar wrathful yellow rimmed with molten fire of the Dark Side of the Force. Seconds later, one of the older Acolytes of the Sith Academy stormed into the room, ready to dominate and violate the slim, short-statured girl like he had dozens of times in the past, not this time. The human teen's head snapped around with the snapping of bone as he laid his hand on the girl's shoulder intent on dragging her to her feet. The look of horrified surprise forever etched onto his face.

Thus, Darth Nox, Dark Lady of the Sith was on the path to her own creation. The next day she was assigned a permanent master, a Dark Lady that sat on the council of the Sith. Her master was one that would snap her limits like chaff. The newly dubbed Darth Nox took a mask to forever shroud her face to the galaxy, distancing herself from the weakling Kallig to one of the most feared Sith in Galactic History.

I watched her trail of destruction burn through the Galaxy, her discovery of the Force Walk technique, when she found she was the true heir of Tulak Hord and Kallig the first. Then a miracle and Darth Nox's salvation in the form of a fallen Jedi named Ashara Zavros.

They turned from bitter enemies to partners in the body as the Force brought them together with Ashara's fall to the Dark Side. With this event, Ashara tried to convince the broken Sith lady to use Revan's method of balance to which she only replied, "I am Sith and only Sith, I have known nothing but the Dark Side, beloved. I've lived a life of pain and rage since I was ten years old. You will be the greatest of us all, my love, but I cannot join you on your path."

For years I watched on until the Eternal Empire invaded the capital world of the Sith Empire, Darth Nox watched as her lover was slain by a Man with a yellow lightsaber and robed in white. The Knights of Zakuul could not withstand the power and rage of Darth Nox as she blindly fought her way to the man who killed her lover. The two met on the battlefield, engaging in a short yet brutal duel ending with Nox taking the man's arm and blasting him away with a burst of Force lightning. The intensity was intense enough to tear into the man's skull, leaving him scarred and unwhole. She stalked up to the broken man with her lightsaber raised and ready to end man's life until a second yellow blade erupted from her heart.

Thus, the legacy of Darth Nox, Dark Lady of the Sith came to a bloody end.

My world explodes into a white light even as the Eternal Empire marches away from the fallen, broken lovers.

My vision clears and I find myself out of the hellhole called Korriban onto a beautiful garden world, trees everywhere and a bright blue sky overhead. I can't help but smile at the sight of green after living for decades in a hellish desert wasteland.

The sound of a starship incoming grabs my attention as it lands at the front of a small cabin, shockingly a man in Neo-Crusader Shock Trooper armor and armed with a blaster rifle calls out to the Jetti.

"Tion'cuy?" The man calls out the under his helmet as a man in robes steps out of the small starship with hands raised in an obvious gesture for peace.

"I mean you no harm, friend, I am here on behalf of the Jedi Order. We have come to offer Mandalore peace, we have found your son to be strong with the Force. I have discussed this with the Mand'alor on the matter, your son has the potential to be trained as a Jedi Knight. May I see him?"

"If what you say is true, Jetti, then I will accept the words of my Mand'alor. But I do not accept your word alone. Prove yourself!" The blaster never leaves it's mark but now I'm interested, the man obviously gets Tarre which means this is the patriarch of House Vizsla.

The Jedi pulls a holo recorder out of his belt that shows a woman in more modern Mandalorian Armor, my jaw falls open at the instantly recognizable paint job on the armor… Mand'alor the Destroyer?

"Jacen… cousin… I am sorry. We must allow him to take the boy, if we do not the Republic will crush us under heel. He shall be trained as a Jetti in the name of survival, he will know their ways but he is Mandalorian - he will be taught as a Jetti but his blood is that of Mandalore," the Destroyer's voice is hard but it's a mask for the fury underlying that scarily flat tone.

'After all, children over all - and this is her kin.'

The Jedi turns off the holo as the Destroyer disappears from view, slightly uncomfortable at the unknown language. 'Good, let them guess what the Destroyer wants. They're stealing one of ours, the least we can do is keeping them guessing, and that wasn't planetary Mando'a. That was Concordia's derivative… or at least a basic version of it. Oh wait, we're on Concordia aren't we?'

Jacen Vizsla hesitates briefly before putting his blaster down, "my son shall go with you, Jetti. I do not like it but I do as Mand'alor commands," he turns sharply on heel, marching into the cabin as the Jedi stands next to his starship, awkwardly shuffling his feet all the while ready to run at the drop of a ribbon, but it wasn't necessary. If Mand'alor orders one of their people to do something they will do it without hesitation or face the death of a Darmanda.

The Mandalorian and his wife walk out of the cabin with him still in full armor while she wears a helmet of similar design but most significantly was the child in her arms, Tarre Vizsla. Future Mand'alor and the first Jedi Master to leave the order under the direction of his liege

My vision blurs as the mother reluctantly hands the boy over to the unnamed Jedi.

Moments later clarity restores itself but my eyes blink involuntarily at the sight before me, it's the single largest structure I had ever seen. That's when I notice something interesting, I'm not quite solid like I was in the last memory. I look down and see my feet hovering off the ground as I move about six feet behind the man walking toward said structure when the world blurs again.

The next thing I know is that I'm beside the man with Tarre at his side in a large circular room with twelve beings incredibly powerful in the force surrounding us. The closest sensation I could compare it to is standing in front of the Sith Dark Council, but while they felt like a raging inferno these people feel like the calm stirring before a hurricane. Thirty years of learning at Nox's side and learning everything she did directly does come in handy in times like this.

"The boy, this is?" A small, hunched over greenish-grey alien asks in a surprisingly deep voice for such a small being.

"Yes, master Doya, this is the Mandalorian," the small form of Tarre Vizsla tries to hide behind the Jetii's leg at the council's hard gaze, "he's necessary to the treaty we have with the Mandalorian leader."

"Indeed…" a Miralukian female comments as the rest of the council looks at the boy.

"We have no choice but to train the boy then," the largest human male I'd ever seen commented while he strokes his thick, red beard thoughtfully.

"Do you speak Basic child?" A green female Twi'lek, no older than thirty galactic standard years old, asks the scared boy that just stares blankly at the Twi'lek who just sighs as I try not to laugh. The boy speaks Basic, every Mando is taught Basic and Mando'a by the time they can walk, and he's three. Tarre has understood every single word the council has said and will report back to Mand'alor the Destroyer for as long as he can get away with it. After all, people will say more in the presence of outsiders if they can't understand what's being said.

"He will be sent to the…" the council chamber blurs again leaving me slightly surprised, this is nothing like Nox's memories…

Eventually, I find myself watching over a now six-year-old Tarre Vizsla with a lightsaber in his hand and a mask covering his face as he works on deflecting low powered blaster bolts from a repulsor droid.

Another blur and the boy is seven but flipping over an obstacle course with the grace of a cat. His feet barely touch the posts jutting out of the floor as he sprints over them and toward a net, he bounds halfway up said net before he can even reach it.

Another shift, another year where the boy is sitting in a classroom. For hours I have to listen to an old Zabrak prattle on over the importance of hyperspace and why it should be treated with caution. If I could have I would have jumped for joy as the class was dismissed right along with the younglings rushing out of the room. Tarre rushes out with them dragging me with him almost as if I was tethered to the boy. He and his fellows move on but instead of going with them toward the Turbolifts, Tarre waves and to them and hikes down the hall. Reality ripples as Tarre pushed open a door and knelt before a holoprojector.

The feed flickers on revealing the armored and helmeted form of Mand'alor the Destroyer.

"Tarre, I trust you are well?"

"Yes, Mand'alor."

"Excellent, what is your report?"

"Ma'am, the lessons are subpar and repetitive however swordmaster Sturo declared my year was to move into Ataru, she said that we had mastered the basics and there was nothing left for her to teach us. Although, she claimed I was gifted in Makashi beyond anything she had ever seen in one so young."

"Makashi?"

"The Way of the Ysalamiri, Mand'alor. A duelist's art, Master Uro calls it."

"Excellent, you are a true Mandalorian, child. One day you will be welcomed home with the highest honors I can give you. I have been able to discuss with that giant on the council, remind me of his name?"

"Grandmaster Stor, Mand'alor. I assume you think that we are discussing the rancor-like man with the fiery red beard?"

"Yes! That would be him! I have spoken with him and he has agreed to allow you to come to Mandalore on the next mission to the planet or when you turn thirteen, we will have drinks in your name!" The woman pumps her fist in the air once as the boy's face lights up.

"I'm going to have a verd'goten?" He whispers excitedly.

"You are living your trials now, child. No other has lived among the enemy for as long as you and came up on top," the boy looks distinctly uncomfortable but at the same time he looks incredibly excited.

"You've made friends?" A hint of disapproval slips into the Destroyer's voice.

"No, Mand'alor," the boy sounds almost resigned, "the Jedi do not allow attachments, not even the bonds of friendship as it could lead to the dark side. I have clan mates but I do not have friends in this hellhole, but it is my home."

The woman nods slowly while considering his words.

"Yes… I will consider this. You have done well, young Vizsla, we will meet again," the holofeed cuts out before Tarre can say another word. The boy stays on his knee for a moment before rising to his feet to exit the room.

We don't enter a hall though; we enter the mouth of a freezing cave instead as if the doorway had led directly to it. I turned around to see if that was the case, you never know with Jedi after all, but thankfully it wasn't. 'Wonderful... a new vision.'

I feel the Force hum in a way that I haven't felt since my time with Nox on Korriban, 'Is this Tython? I've only heard legends of it but if it is - it's incredible! If Korriban was a black hole in the Force, this is a Supernova.'

The Force twinges around me pushing in a different direction, a name comes to my mind "Ilum."

I blink at that, the Force has never spoken like that… but I recognized that voice, wasn't that Jedi master Stor's voice? So that was one of Tarre's direct memories, interesting.

Alongside a now thirteen-year-old Padawan Vizsla, we enter the cave as the Force sings to both ancestor and descendant, but Tarre doesn't hear the song. He turns a different direction from the source of the music, but his eyes are screwed shut with his forehead creased in concentration. Ice runs down my spine when Tarre turns down a cave that's been brushed with the dark, not enough for the boy to realize what it was but enough that he should know something is terribly, terribly wrong with this path.

But he doesn't. His feet take him further and further in toward the source of the feeling, much to my dismay. Minutes later we're in a cavern lit by the light of hundreds of crystals surrounding us but what grabs my attention is the large black rock vein on the cavern's wall. I tense up knowing exactly what's happening, the Force cries out as its will is against the decision that Tarre is making at this moment but unlike the time I roared against a decision someone made I know nothing will come of this. After all, father still holds the Dark Saber but if this is what its crystal feels like in the Force I want nothing with it.

I feel myself pause for a beat as a crystal pulls itself free from the black vein in the wall only to feel nothing from it. The kyber crystal is Force null… 'is it dead? That shouldn't be possible... The kyber crystals found on Korriban are naturally red from the atrocities committed there but why, and more importantly how, could a crystal die? But it answers the question of how the crystal slipped by the council.'

Reality shifts from a frozen cave to a lush, green field with one figure looming over a kneeling one. The sun sinking behind them strikes an incredible scene as the kneeling figure holds a small object up for the standing one to examine. The helmeted form of Mand'alor the Destroyer takes Tarre Vizsla's kyber crystal with surprising gentleness.

"So, this is one of the Jedi's infamous kyber crystals… You have done well, warrior of Manda'yaim," the woman takes a large pack from her side, "it is time for you to be armored as one," she taps a button on her gauntlet immediately followed by a repulsor sled covered by a tarp rising to about waist height. She tears the tarp off revealing a set of full Mandalorian Armor emblazoned with the Shriek Hawk of Clan Vizsla.

"Mand'alor… is this…" he trails off in a quiet voice.

"Your father's armor reforged for you. He is of the Manda now, his armor shall protect you for the rest of your days. And as he is not here it is my honor to join you for the end of your Verd'goten," she takes a flask from her hip and removes her helmet revealing a hard woman that looks to be in her late thirties but her silver hair gives that illusion away quickly. With a small smile she hands over the flask to the boy, "Ne'tra gal from my personal cellar," her smile slips away as it turns into a mask of calm, "from child to warrior, rise, son of Mandalore. Your fight has just begun."

The boy rises to his feet, accepting the flask with a shaky hand and raising it to take a long draw from it before handing it back to Mand'alor who repeats his action.

"Thank you, mand'alor," Tarre says in a small voice.

"It was my pleasure, Tarre, and please - call me Ranah" the woman smiles softly before pulling her helmet back on, gesturing to the repulsor sled, "now, I believe it is time to put on your armor?"

"Yes, Ma - Ranah!" the now blushing boy hurries over to the sled and pulls the armor on as fast as he can while still placing the armor on correctly, strangely there are two plates of pure metal on the sled I try to move over to get a better look but I'm rooted to the spot I'm hovering over, "Is this… is this Beskar?" The boy asks in an awed voice but it hits me like a punch from a wookie.

'Pure beskar? Why in the name of the ancestors would there be pure beskar on that sled?'

"You have your crystal, you have your Force, but you do not have your materials to make the blade itself - now you do. It shall be worthy of a Mandalorian," the boy's face slackens right with his jaw while his face turns sheet white, his eyes turning to a size Hutts would be jealous of.

"I - I will make it so, my liege," the boy whispers as he takes a knee once more.

"Excellent, now what did I tell you before?" Her voice, even muffled behind the helmet, is obviously amused.

"Sorry, Ranah…" the boy blushes even harder as she hands him the helmet sitting on the sled.

"You're learning boy, come. Your master will be wondering where you are," she turned her back and started walking toward me with the flustered boy not far behind.

The world shifts and I'm standing in the middle of a small clearing with the stars shining bright above me, the sky is clear but that doesn't catch my attention - the boy sitting in the clearing does. The boy is lost in the Force as his crystal and the warping, writhing beskar hover in front of his face.

The beskar draws itself out into shape even as the crystal shifts to place itself within the emitter shaft. It takes the boy an hour but eventually his lightsaber is complete, without opening his eyes he reaches out and takes the hilt in hand.

When he ignites the blade, all the darkness in the area seemed to draw itself into the weapon to create a solid construct of void - darksaber couldn't be a more apt description.

Once again the world blurs around me as the darksaber is retracted into the hilt of a deeply troubled Tarre Vizsla.

But my world does not resolve itself into clarity, instead the world blurs around me. Memories, conversations, sights, sounds, and another ten thousand things rush past me like water down rapids. The memories focus with crystal clarity in my mind until my vision sharpens and time slows down around me on a desert planet with a man standing on an outcrop with a legion of armored humans kneeling in the sand below. I turn to the fully grown man beside me, armored in full beskar'gam with the aliik of House Vizsla emblazoned on his forehead and a familiar shaft of metal in his hand - a lightsaber.

"We stand here today in honor of my mother in heart and sister in arms, Ranah Teh Naast, adopted by House and Clan Vizsla by my authority as head of both! She lived a warrior's life and died a warrior's death after eighty-seven years of battle, we honor her today! As a warrior of Mandalore she fought for her world, as the voice of Mand'alor she pushed our world to heights unimagined! We fought, we lost, we fight again!" The Mandalorians erupted into roars of approval with cheers of 'Mand'alor! Mand'alor! Mand'alor!'

Tarre just stood there frozen in shock along with me, 'this is how Tarre Vizsla, Mand'alor haar Jetti, was born? At his own mother-in-heart's funeral? Wow… Wait, he's still a Jetti isn't he?'

Time blurs once again as if in order to answer my question. I find myself in the Jetti Council chambers once again, Tarre standing unhelmed and looking to be between thirty-five to forty galactic standard years old but the look on his face is almost as hard and impassive as the beskar helmet tucked under his arm.

"Masters," Tarre says simply with a head bow.

"Master Vizsla, know why you are here, you do?"

"Yes, master Doya. The events from last night."

"Correct, you are. Mand'alor and Jedi at same time, you cannot be. One or the other, choose you must," the small green alien says with steel in his voice. Tarre remains silent as the rest of the council looks toward the Grandmaster's chair.

"Grandmaster Hawkun, what is your opinion on the matter?" A Mon Cala asks the Chiss occupying the Grandmaster's seat.

"We are of one mind," the Chiss says calmly, "Master Vizsla, you must choose the order or your homeworld - but not today," the council looks at the Grandmaster in shock before they nod with the Chiss's next words, "your padawan's trials are set for dawn, you will appear before us after the celebrations in raising him to a Knight of the Jedi Order. Are we agreed that he is to knight his Padawan when the time comes?"

"I second the notion," a human on the council says.

"All in favor?" The grandmaster asked, the council voted unanimously, "we are agreed, we will see you here tomorrow - Master Vizsla," the grandmaster announced. Tarre gave a head nod to the council before turning on his heel and striding from the council chambers but I did not leave with him.

"If he leaves the order what do we do?" A female Zeltron voiced.

"There's nothing we can do," called a resigned Mirialian.

"Unfortunately, that's not quite correct," a Duran said quietly.

"You suggest we use the Shadows?" the human from earlier said obviously stunned.

"I suggest we use whatever force necessary to protect the Order," the Duran shoots back.

"Enough!" The Chiss grandmaster said with his hand between his hands, "we have much to discuss."

The scene ripples but I'm still in the same spot but a helmeted Tarre's back at my side.

"Have you made your decision, Master Vizsla?"

"Mand'alor," Tarre says confidently, "I am Mand'alor of Mandalore, my time with the Jedi Order is at its end."

"Then you will need to hand over your lightsaber and begone," the Chiss says with a resigned tone.

"I refuse. I built my lightsaber, it is mine by right and Mandalore's by creation," Tarre says in a heated tone.

"It is a Jedi's weapon and you are no Jedi," the Duro points out.

"If that is the case I'll be going," Tarre turns on heel before the council can gather their wits and is out of the Temple before the guards realize they are to detain him.

Time warps once again as I stand beside Tarre on the field of battle, his darksaber crossed with a bright green lightsaber in return.

The two are silent as they duel but I can see the sheer determination on the man's face, he's determined to beat Tarre but Tarre's determined to win for his people. The duel intensifies until another combatant drops from the trees, I scream at my ancestor trying to pull him from the battle rage that pure Mandalorians are subject to.

The blue blade erupts from his chest, killing him instantly. The two Jedi take the Darksaber and disappear into the night.

Thus, the legacy of Tarre Vizsla, heir of the Destroyer, Mand'alor, former Jedi Master, and one of the lost nineteen ended at the hand of his lifelong comrades. The catalyst behind the most recent Mandalorian wars on the Jedi Order and the trigger behind the collapse of the Jedi Shadows.

Color explodes in front of my eyes as I find myself in the strangest, yet calmest, place I've ever seen.

"Welcome to Ruusan, young one."

I whip around to see the masked form of Revan hovering in the air in a cross-legged position.

"Master Revan," I nod to her as she moves out of her meditation.

"Come," she starts toward a trail behind her with me close behind, "welcome to the Valley of the Je'daii. Many Sith and many Jedi have fallen trying to reclaim this holy ground they mistakenly call the Valley of the Jedi. This place is a nexus in the Force, a place where we may speak freely for a few moments, young one. Unlike Nox and Tarre, I do not give you my memories, instead I gift you the memories of my archives. Any techniques I have learned you will be able to perform in seconds. I only ask one thing, restore the balance."

"Yes, master Revan. I will not let you down."

"I do not expect you would, begone and may the Force be with You."

With a wave of her hand light explodes once again.