There are many places to hide in this galaxy.

So much of it still remains uncharted, alone and quiet among the busy and vividly alive planets. Those dark spots on the map—places that have been left untouched—shield a multitude of dangers and hiding places alike. And yet, they still belong. Each system moves in tandem, rotating around the galactic core, hurtling through the empty spaces of the universe together.

Somewhere out there among them, Revan hides in the shadows.

Nothingness and something, emptiness and the one person who ventures into it alone. How do you separate shape from shadow? How do you find what you're looking for in so much unknown?

It's easy: all it takes is the decision to look.

Meetra's hands work without her mind thinking much of it. Her attention feels like it's caught by a hundred different things, most notably Malak standing behind her. They're in the main hold of the Ebon Hawk, both of them quiet after hearing Revan's message three times now, and the threads that had loosened between them are suddenly taut again.

She only spares him a glance as she backs away from the console to stand next to him. Atton's in the cockpit with T3, so they're the only ones who watch the holoprojector spring to life. It reaches out into the universe and a moment later, Bastila's faded blue figure appears.

"I see you found Malak," she says, and there's something firm about her expression, something Meetra didn't see back on Telos. "Are you well?"

She doesn't really know how to answer that. "Yes, thank you."

"And you, Malak?"

"I'm alright," he says, but his voice is still shaky. It's been maybe an hour since Revan made herself known again, and he still hasn't said a thing about it other than, I need to find her. But he looks to Bastila, and where she's more guarded, he's less so. "It's good to see you."

"I take it you know where Revan is?" Bastila asks, getting straight to it.

"Not quite," Meetra answers. "It turns out T3 had a message from her for Malak, dated two years back. We've decrypted the coordinates from its source, which we're heading towards now."

"Do you think it will lead to her?"

"Either that, or it'll get us closer," Meetra answers. "I don't have my hopes up, but it's something."

Bastila frowns, absently touching the point of her chin. It takes a moment for her to ask, "What did her message say? Was there anything you could decipher from that?"

Malak is silent, of course, so Meetra shakes her head. "She said she had something she needed to do. Not much else."

"She should've taken someone with her," Bastila says, and Meetra gets the feeling she means herself. "What about the coordinates? Do you know where those lead?"

"It isn't anything recognizable on our maps. I was wondering if you could consult the archives, see if you can find any information on it."

Bastila nods. "Of course. I'll get back to you what I can."

"Thank you," she answers. "I'd recommend consulting Mical. He's spent years studying these things, his knowledge could be invaluable."

Bastila nods again. "Be careful."

"We will be."

Her image blinks out and Meetra glances at Malak, who stares at the space Bastila just occupied. There's something distant about his gaze, and Meetra doesn't know if there's anything she should say in this situation.

The thing is—they're not friends anymore. Malak may have just seen Revan for the first time in five years, but why should Meetra be the one to consult him on how he feels about it? Once upon a time it's what she would've done. There were countless moments during the war, when he'd seek her out, ask her to tell him that it'd be okay, and each time she'd lay her hand on his arm or his shoulder, open the bond between them, and reassure him with everything she had.

We'll get through this.

Maybe it's what she should say now, but it'd be an empty promise—a lie as much as it was back then. Meetra doesn't know what's coming, and the pessimist in her can't let her believe that it's going to be anything good. All she has for Malak is, "Atton said it'll be a few days before we get there."

He blinks once, and finally locks that blue-eyed gaze on her. "Thank you."

"There's nothing to thank me for," Meetra says back, because she doesn't think he means that on just a surface level. "We haven't found her yet."

She needs the reminder as much as he does.

"It's a chance, though," Malak says. "I haven't had hope in five years, so...thank you."

This time Meetra just nods, because there isn't anything she can say to that, and she's starting to realize there isn't much she can say to Malak at all. Whatever healing she found in Frela's house was founded on the idea that she could leave him behind. That it was a once and done thing.

But now? Now—well, she willingly agreed to this, so she'll keep her mouth shut.

There are so many things she shouldn't say.

"I'm gonna go check on Atton," she murmurs before leaving. She doesn't wait for a response, just turns and heads down the familiar corridor. Her stomach aches from the stress, and she tries to take a deep breath, but it feels like she can't quite get the air all the way down to her lungs. If this is what it's going to be like the whole time—

She's made it through worse. She's come back from everything she's faced, and she'll be damned if this is the one that gets her.

So instead of breaking down, she takes comfort in the sight of Atton's back in the pilot seat, trails of stars spinning beyond the viewport. It's become the one place in the galaxy that feels like home again, and her lips work up a shaky smile as she sits down next to him.

"Hey," he murmurs, glancing up at her once before refocusing on the deck of cards in his hands. It's another familiar sight and sound: his long, nimble fingers expertly shuffle the cards without much thought. "Did you reach Bastila?"

"Yeah," she murmurs back, and fits her chin in her hand as she unfocuses her eyes until the blue, swirling light diffuses into something gentler. "She said she'll send us anything she finds out."

"Well that's something, at least."

His voice sounds unaffected, but Meetra raises a brow. "Are you okay with chasing after the unknown like this?"

His hands still move but his eyes lift to meet hers. "Can't say it's a great feeling, but..."

"But?"

"I'm just thinking that if you left me behind like you originally wanted to, you'd be doing this alone."

She considers that for a moment. "If it wasn't for you, I'm not sure I would've landed on Taanab in the first place."

"Yes you would've," he says.

"What makes you so sure?"

"Because I'm an enabler." His grin is wicked. "If you really wanted to leave, we'd be long gone."

"Does that include right now?"

His smile softens. "Say the word, and we'll drop Malak off at the next stop."

She laughs. "You really mean that, though."

"Yeah," he says, and his features shift into something more serious. "But I can't figure it out—why did you agree to help him?"

"I gave my word that I would try and find her, and Malak would go with or without our help."

Not that that was on her mind when she first agreed. In all truth, she doesn't know what she was thinking, or that she was even thinking at all. It was something between the look on Malak's face, the way Revan spoke as though she was a dead man walking, or the idea of Malak going off on his own to find her. Something made her agree before she was even aware that she'd spoken at all.

When it came down to it, she'd said yes where if she'd really put thought into it, she might've said no.

But this has been coming, whether she likes it or not, and to ignore it now would be like ignoring the spark of the Force on Peragus. Sometimes these things influence your decisions without your permission, but it'd be foolish to go against them.

"You think he's okay?" Atton asks.

"No," she says, but she gets the feeling he hasn't been okay in a long time. "At least he'll get an answer, one way or another."

Atton huffs out a breath. "And what if she's gone? I gotta level with you, Sweets, I get the feeling this has a bad ending."

She's learned to trust his feelings, so she knows better than to argue his point. She doesn't necessarily like the idea of Malak facing grief at the end of this, but—"Maybe he'll be better off."

She dares a glance at Atton, who raises a brow at her. "You sure about that?"

She sighs. "It has to be better than living in this...unknown. She could have been dead for months or years now, but he'll always hope that she's coming back for him. A definitive answer is better than empty hope."

"Yeah, somehow I doubt he'll share that sentiment."

"Yeah, well." She looks away, but it still hurts and she doesn't know how to make it better. "He sees her differently. When I remember the way she treated me, or the way she treated the galaxy...I can't let it go."

"Were you ever friends?"

Meetra huffs out a breath that might be a laugh. "Revan wasn't an easy person to be friends with. We got along for Malak's sake, but before the war she hardly said more than two words to me at a time."

The funny thing is, she was excited to meet Revan. Malak had so many stories about her, and Meetra always played the part of captive audience, wondering how someone like her could be real. Then Revan came to Coruscant, and sure, those first few times she was vibrant and alive and captured everyone's attention. She resembled the person Malak said she was, but after that—after that, well—

Well it was always different, wasn't it? Sometimes Revan would come and be Revan: confident and inspiring and funny, and sometimes it seemed like there wasn't anyone inside her body. She was either present or missing, or sometimes she would talk to everyone except for Meetra. Sometimes her and Malak would sit close together in the back of the cantina for hours and hours and hours, and no one else existed.

Once Revan moved to Coruscant, she rarely came around to go out. Malak still would, but he'd be distracted the entire time. He couldn't relax, had a hard time holding a conversation, and would leave early. Meetra never understood it.

Then the war came, and Meetra followed them, and Revan looked at her like she was a person again. She'd talk to Meetra, told her how important she was, and Meetra took that as finally getting her approval.

For whatever it was worth.

"She wanted me to die, you know," Meetra continues, and where has her head been? She looks over to see Atton frowning at her. "Malachor V. I wasn't supposed to survive that—how could I? I don't know if I can forgive Revan."

"What if she's changed?"

"That's worse, right?" She shakes her head. "Without her memories, how can she be held accountable for what she's done? I mean—look at where we are, look at the state of the galaxy. The Jedi are broken, the Republic is in shambles, and who knows what else will come against us? This is the aftermath of Revan, direct evidence of what she's done. Why do we have to suffer the consequences and she gets to forget?"

"I don't know," Atton says, and he still just shuffles the cards in his hands. "Maybe we'll all be better off without her."

Meetra sighs. "Am I being too harsh?"

And this time Atton laughs. "That's the last thing I'd call you, babe."

She hums to herself as she refocuses on the viewport again. "It's easy to get stuck in your head. With all of this happening, I feel closer to the past than I have in years. I guess that's the point..."

"I guess," he agrees. "That doesn't make it any easier. The second you say we cut our losses and run, I'm with you."

Enabler, he'd called himself. And he's right—he's always giving her a way out and she doesn't know if she's okay with that or not. She doesn't know when she'll actually take him up on it.

Still, she grins as she turns to face him again. "You just want to go to Nar Shaddaa."

"Well we gotta make up for last time."

"But you were so sweet, then," she says. "Giving me those medpacs because you were worried about me."

"Yeah, so?" But he looks away and it's cute how he pretends to be so confident with so many things, but can't quite manage it when it comes to this. "I didn't want you to get hurt. Not my fault you're the one always running towards danger."

"See? We balance each other out."

"If that's what you want to call it," he says. "But thanks—for not doing to me what Revan did to him."

She presses her lips into a smile. There's still time, her mind says, but she doesn't think she could do it now. Not after everything they've been through together.

"I wouldn't," she says. "You know, Kreia told me that I couldn't take anyone I love when I go after Revan. I guess I'm not good at following directions."

Atton's hands still once again and it takes a second for Meetra to realize what she's said. Someone I love. She wants to take it back—not because she doesn't mean it but because she's never said it to anyone before. Maybe there have been moments when she's felt it, in both her past and her present, but the words have never truly left her lips. Not in any true meaning of the phrase.

And Atton—well he runs, doesn't he? The self-proclaimed deserter. She doesn't want things to change because of three words that have only, at this point, been implied.

He only clears his throat. "She told you to find Revan?"

Meetra nods. "One of her dying requests, actually."

His hands still don't resume their shuffling, so Meetra dares a glance back up at him. His lips quirk to the side when she meets his gaze, and there's something in her eyes that she can't read. Touching the bond only reveals his resignation, tinged with a sadness she doesn't understand.

"Come here," he mutters, and he puts down the cards. Meetra eyes him for a moment before getting up, and she crosses the small distance between the two seats. Atton pulls her down into his lap and wraps his arms around her, pressing his chin against the top of her head. Meetra smiles to herself as she allows herself to feel the warmth of him.

"What's this for?"

"You don't owe them anything," he says, his voice laced with a conviction rarely heard from him. "Not Kreia, or Revan, or Bastila, or Malak. Not even me, Sweets."

This time her smile flattens. Even though she knows he's right, there's something about it that doesn't sit well with her. It's a question she won't ask herself, not even all these years later.

"Thank you," she murmurs instead. "You're still pretty sweet, Ace."

When she leans back to look at him, he presses his lips to hers, and she lets that be enough.

Time passes. Meetra meditates for the most part, taking breaks to eat or talk to Atton. She runs into Malak every so often, but he still seems stuck in his own head and Meetra doesn't know what she'd say to him, anyway. From what she can tell, he and Atton don't talk either, but neither of them mention the other.

It's strange that all three of them have such different relationships with each other, and how those relationships have changed over time. Atton went from scoundrel to lover, while Malak went from friend to enemy, to whatever he is now.

And the two of them? She can't say.

It isn't until their last night cycle before they'll arrive that Malak seeks her out. She's in the garage, working on her lightsaber at the workbench when she senses his presence—something muddied and quiet now, but when she looks up he's leaning against the doorway.

"Can we talk?" he asks, and his voice is just as quiet as his presence.

Her stomach sinks a little but she doesn't let it show. Instead she nods. "Sure."

"I've been thinking," he starts, and takes a moment before he draws closer. Meetra watches him pick up a crate and places it near her. He takes a seat on top of it, and like this, he's a little below her eye level. Meetra just leans her hip against the bench, lowering her tools.

She lets one corner of her lips pull up. "Must've been thinking hard."

"It's about Kreia."

This time Meetra can't quite hide her reaction. "What about her?"

"I'm trying to figure out the role she played in this. You said she was on the Ebon Hawk when you arrived on Peragus, right?"

"According to T3, yeah."

"Do you know how?"

Meetra pauses. "I know she was looking for me, but...I'm not entirely sure. I don't think she ever said how, but even if she did, I'm not sure that I'd believe her."

Malak watches her for a long moment, and Meetra struggles not to look away under the scrutiny of those familiar eyes. His thoughts read clearly across his face, from the slight downturn of his brows to the way his lips press together.

"Why not?" he asks.

And Meetra has to take a breath. How could someone explain Kreia? "She...wanted me to think differently. She was always challenging me and trying to get me to do something, whether it served her purpose or not. I don't think she always told me the truth, but in some convoluted way, I do think she cared about me."

"Do you know what her purpose was?"

"She wanted to understand how I survived Malachor," Meetra says, feeling the burden of memory cloud her emotions. It's a combination of that first instance—the death of so many—and the second, on Dantooine, when Kreia stood over her body and said you'll never harm her again. Life should've been easier than this.

Malak feels it too, if the way he looks away is any indication. The two of them never got to deal with this. She left so soon after it happened, and Malak didn't say anything at the time.

"How did you?" he asks, even though his eyes are wary.

Meetra can't look at him. "You know what I did, Malak. Don't tell me you didn't feel it."

"But you got it back."

"Yeah," she murmurs. "I got it back."

It's that same careful stare from him, and she knows he wants to ask how, knows he's in a similar position, but it's not the same at all, is it?

She gives in. "Kreia wanted me to use it—my experience—to destroy the Force. That's all I know, it was our last conversation."

Malak's eyes go a little wide. "Destroy the Force?"

"Trust me, the thought is more horrifying when you realize it might have been possible."

"But you didn't. Instead you killed her, and she failed."

Meetra frowns. "In a way, yes."

In a way, because was that her true goal? Was it to get Meetra to where she is now? The woman's thoughts were so all over the place that it's impossible to figure out what her true purpose was. So for Malak to keep asking—

"If she knew you," he continues, "she would've known that her plan would fail."

Meetra has to swallow back her irritation. "So what are you saying?"

"Why would she do what she did, knowing that in the end you wouldn't go along with what she wanted? What—was it just foolish hope that she'd succeed?"

And suddenly it's clear. She sees through to the heart of his questions and says, "You think this has to do with Revan, don't you?"

"The Ebon Hawk came back to you, with Kreia and Revan's two droids. Why?"

"I don't know," she answers. "I assume the answer is more complicated than the information I have suggests, but that doesn't mean I have it."

He turns his head away and she knows that's disappointing for him. She also knows that it's all she has.

"Malak," she continues, and he lifts his gaze to meet hers. "We'll get our answers, one way or another. You don't have to reach for them."

And maybe that's as close as she'll get to saying, We'll get through this.

"Yeah," he says, but the word drifts off. "Yeah, I guess you're right."

She can't stop thinking about it, though.

Revan and Kreia, Revan and Kreia, Revan and Kreia.

She tosses and turns that night, unable to quiet her mind enough to get some sleep. The thoughts keep her up, keep imagining this invisible connection between two of the most confusing women Meetra's ever met.

"Sorry," she murmurs to Atton when she rolls over yet again, and she can feel her agitation in the room. It stirs up and doesn't calm down, and she knows he can sense it as he lays awake beside her.

"You're still thinking about it?"

Meetra rubs a hand over her face, looking up at the blank darkness above her. "What if he's right? What if there's something I'm missing?"

"She was crazy," he answers, and pulls her closer to him. "This is exactly the kind of thing she'd want you to keep believing after she's gone."

"The way she spoke about Revan, though..."

Because Kreia believed in Revan. She believed that grand story, even went as far as giving Revan a reason to fall other than her own selfishness and betrayal. And it's funny, just how many people in Meetra's life would choose Revan over her.

"We'll arrive tomorrow," Atton murmurs, and his voice sounds so tired. "Try and get some rest."

She sighs out a long breath, forcing herself to calm down. She breathes long and slow and listens to Atton beside her, breathing long and slow. Time stretches on and she doesn't quite sleep, but she's able to calm her mind enough to let the anxiety ease up.

And when she realizes she won't sleep at all, she gets up and meditates in the cargo hold, remembering a time when things seemed just as difficult, but were so easy in comparison.

In the morning Malak makes them coffee, which is a blessing.

Meetra washes down a bland ration bar with it, savoring both the flavor and the warmth. Malak has a datapad in his hands, and Atton's got a cup of coffee as well, taking sips between breaks in the story he's telling her that she—regretfully—isn't paying much attention to.

(It's one of the benefits of Atton. Sometimes he just fills the quiet in order to fill the quiet, especially when it has the potential to loom long and uncomfortable like it does now. She knows he doesn't care about the attention, would probably rather avoid it, but it's a survival tactic that he's developed and it helps Meetra more than she thought it would.)

She finishes the last of her cup, lost in thought, when her eyes lift to land on Malak.

"Did you know Kreia?" she asks, and he glances up from his datapad with a frown.

"No," he answers. "I don't think so."

"She said she trained Revan," she continues, and a strange feeling stirs in her chest. "Both before and after the war."

He sits up straighter and his brows come down. "That can't be possible. I've known everyone who's trained Revan."

"See? She lied," Atton says. "Considering all of her charming qualities, it's not much of a surprise."

"Unless—" Malak starts, ignoring him, but the word breaks off and his lips part as confusion works its way across his features. A long moment of quiet passes between them, and his skin pales as sits back in his seat.

"What is it?" she prompts.

"Unless she went by a different name, then," he says. "If she was—oh, kriff—if she's actually Master Kae—"

Meetra glances at Atton, who looks just about as confused as she feels. "Who's Master Kae?"

Malak looks at her hollowly for a moment before gathering himself back together. "That was before we knew you," he murmurs. His voice is quiet—lost. "Kae was Revan's first master. She was very...cryptic, very elusive. Revan cared for her like a mother. When we were eighteen, Kae was exiled from the Order, and I don't think Revan ever recovered from it."

But Meetra goes cold at the word exile, and her heart drops even as it pounds in her chest. Her next words leave her lips without permission: "From one exile to another."

"There's no way—" Atton starts. "Is there?"

"I wouldn't put it out of the realm of possibility," she says. "But—not even Kreia could've planned all of this."

"Not alone," Malak murmurs. "I just know that Revan's involved somehow."

And Meetra can't ignore the anger that rises in her throat at the thought of Revan playing a part in the Force coming back to her. These past six months have belonged to her alone, have proved her strength on her own, and now to think that it was orchestrated in part by Revan?

She can't stomach it.

Thankfully the console from the comm room interrupts her train of thought—they don't know anything for certain yet.

"Looks like we're about to find out," Atton says as the three of them get up. They follow the sound, cramping themselves around the console that prints one word across the screen:

NATHEMA.

Some part of Meetra knows the name, but she can't place it despite how familiar it sounds. It's when she looks over at Malak and sees the recognition in his eyes that she feels the reality of their situation.

They're really going after Revan.

"Have we been there?" she asks.

"Revan has," he answers, and he smooths his hand over his head, right across those fading tattoos. "It was towards the end of the war. Force knows where she heard of it, but she had it in her mind that it was important, and did a reconnaissance mission there alone."

"Alone?"

He rolls his eyes. "I fought her on it, but you know how she was."

Oh, does Meetra know. "So what did she find there?"

"She never told me," he answers. "Clearly it must've been important, but we never got the chance to really talk about it. It was right before Talvon died."

"Right." Meetra turns her head away at the mention of his name, her jaw clicking shut audibly. She doesn't need to hear Malak talk about Talvon. Her eyes scan over the word Nathema again and again, and she lets her shoulders relax. "Well it looks like we're about to find out."

"I'll prep for landing," Atton says. "This should be fun."

He turns to leave for the cockpit, and Meetra shuts her eyes for a moment, forcing a breath out. She's starting to wonder if it's her fault that it's all adding up like this—that maybe if she dealt with her other issues sooner, they wouldn't compound on the current ones so heavily.

And that's a question she has to ask herself: how much worse is it going to get? Because she glances at Malak, and she knows there's no way it's going to get any easier.

"Do you think she's there?" he asks, but judging the tone of his voice, he already knows the answer.

"No," she says anyway, because he needs to hear it. "I don't think she is."

She hears him say something else, but her attention is caught by the console. Another message comes through, this one saying:

Please exercise caution. Not much is known about Nathema except for old legends, which suggest that the planet is completely devoid of life. If there is any truth to these stories, I fear you'll be heading towards something potentially dangerous, for both you and the company you keep.

I only wish I was there with you, but I understand my role here. I will meditate on this, and if I come across anything else, I will send it your way.

May the Force be with you,

Mical

Meetra closes her eyes as she breathes out. She wishes Mical was here, too. There's a strength about him that kept her focused on the mission, and she misses the long hours spent meditating together, losing themselves in the Force and fortifying both of their wills. As glad as she is to have Atton with her now, that's just not something they've been able to do together.

But she knows the new Jedi Order will need Mical's strength more than she will, because this is a foolish endeavor with foolish intentions.

"I should go alone," Malak says, breaking the silence between them.

"What?"

"I can't ask you to put yourself in danger for me," he explains. "You're doing enough just by taking me here, I should go alone to find out what Revan's done."

Meetra frowns as she looks up at him. His eyes and her senses tell her that he's being honest, but some part of her has to wonder what he's playing at. "We'll go together. If it's truly dangerous, you'll need me."

"Right," he says, and there's a small smile on his closed lips. "Considering you've killed three Sith and I've killed zero, I guess you're the one with something to teach."

Her answering smile is grim, but she thinks it still counts. "A bit different than Coruscant."

"Yeah," he says, and that isn't happy either. "Quite."

Luckily, Atton interrupts them as he calls out, "Ten minutes until landing—you're gonna want to see this."

"Right," she says to Malak, and breathes out in a rush. "You should probably strap yourself in—we have a habit of crashing."

Malak gives her a wary look but she manages to give him a genuine smile this time, despite the fact that she's not actually joking. She leaves him to go join Atton in the cockpit, but she has to stop right as she sees the planet beyond the viewport.

The size of it fills the entire space—pale brown and empty, even from here, but what's striking is the scorched line that shrieks across the surface. It has to be hundreds of miles long, black and charred, and branching out like lightning at the edges. It looks like a physical wound to the planet, as if someone cut it open and sewed it shut again.

"What is that?" she hears herself ask as she slowly draws towards the copilot's chair.

"I don't know, but I don't like it," Atton says, and when she glances over, his lips are fixed in a frown. "Our coordinates lead to right outside its edge."

Oh, there's a sick feeling that sinks into her gut. "I'm guessing Revan had something to do with this."

"How many credits are you willing to bet?"

She manages a smile, but as they descend towards the planet, a different feeling sweeps over her. This one is cold—desperately cold and empty.

"There's something wrong here," she says. The words sound slow and far away.

"No kidding," he says, but it gets worse the closer they get to the ground. Meetra's chest feels tight with it as it echoes hollowly through her. It feels...it feels familiar and uncomfortable and as they shutter on to the ground, Meetra's mind halts with the void of the Force around her.

"Atton," she murmurs, focusing just enough to get the words out. "Do you feel that?"

She looks over to see him rubbing a hand across his eyes. "Yeah, what the hell?"

"I don't know," she says, but it feels so unsteady. She hasn't felt this—this empty since—

"We better make this fast," Atton says. "I don't know how long we can all hold out like this."

She makes herself nod. "Which is why you need to stay here."

"What? There's no way I'm letting you go alone."

"I'll be with Malak and T3," she explains. "If we need to make a quick escape, then I need you here with the engine running."

Atton presses his lips together. "I don't like it."

"I know," she says. "Trust me."

It doesn't take him long to agree, but he doesn't hide his disapproval, even as he stands to pull her into a hug. "I don't think medpacs are gonna do anything for you in this situation."

There's that familiar feeling in her chest, one that almost chases the emptiness away, and she smiles. "I don't think so either."

When he pulls back, he leaves one kiss on her lips. "Be careful."

"We will be."

He swallows, but he nods. Meetra gathers up what strength she has, and with careful but uncertain steps she makes her way back to the ramp, where Malak waits. He leans against the wall, and his eyes are closed until she approaches him.

"I feel it," he says. "It's bearable, but it's there."

Meetra looks at him, but she doesn't say anything as she hits the button for the loading ramp.

"Must be worse for you," he says. "Like I said, I can go alone."

And this time she opens her mouth enough to say, "No," as the loading ramp lowers.

Because she's stubborn and she always has been, and if she has it in her to do this, she's going to. It's how she viewed the war, life after the war, and this new war now. There's no choice but to keep going, even if it doesn't make sense.

Even if it's dangerous.

The ramp touches the ground and Meetra feels the dry air seep into the ship. It isn't hot but it's uncomfortable, and she stumbles on her first step out. Malak catches her by the arm, and doesn't let go even when she straightens herself.

"I'm fine," she says as she shakes him off. "Come on."

Her boots hit dusty earth, and she has to blink back the brightness of the planet. There's a strange aura here—one completely devoid of the Force, and Mical was right: there's nothing alive here. The trees are dead and rotting, there isn't any vegetation to be seen, and even if Meetra was able to sense her surroundings, she'd bet all her credits that there aren't any living creatures left.

There's a rocky cliff though, leading to mountains that lie beyond Revan's coordinates. Her and Malak walk in silence towards them, with T3 rolling along behind—his whirring movements the only sound on the planet aside from the wind that whistles a strange, sour note.

It gets harder and harder to breathe through it, to focus her mind enough to battle against the emptiness. It feels too much like before—like right after Malachor, and Meetra's desperately trying to shake off the thoughts that come with that, but it isn't easy.

"There," Malak says, and Meetra's gaze follows to where he's pointing to.

Ahead of them is a mountain that stands alone, and at its base is an arch that looks to be carved into the rock. It reminds her of a Jedi Temple—one of the ones her and Master Kavar would visit in her youth. Ancient and delicate, she doesn't know how it would survive in a place as cold and as hollow as this.

She hopes that it'll change once they reach the structure, but the feeling only grows worse. It starts in her head, a whining pain that creeps up the back of her neck—sharp and aching and it hurts like before. And Revan's presence—

"Malak," she chokes out, but she feels Revan's presence and the wound that cut through her so deeply. It fills the void, or rather it stands beside the void, and together they grip her until she can't breathe. It's Revan and the Wound and the flood of Malachor. It's the death she caused—what should've killed her too, and it was supposed to...oh, it was supposed to.

And there she is, nodding to Bao-Dur. There she is, feeling it all at once, shutting out so many lives all at once. She didn't want to do it—they need to know that she didn't want to do it but it was the war and she became blind to the violence of it. The brutality she fought became her own, and she listened to Revan until it destroyed her.

She listened to Revan when she shouldn't have, and the regret is so deep and present and it can't be real—it can't be happening again, can it?

"Hey," she hears Malak say, only it sounds like it's coming from a distance. She has to open her eyes, she realizes, and when she does he's right in front of her. They're both on the ground, and he's crouched before her with his hands on her shoulders, his blue eyes looking so intensely at her—and he needs to know—

"She's gonna kill me," Meetra says, and the fear that grips her is so very old, but in this moment it feels brand new. Why is it so hard to breathe? "Malak, she wants to kill me. She—she—"

"Shh," he hushes her. "She won't."

"She will," she says, and her voice breaks. The panic steels over her and she can't feel anything. She reaches for him, lets him crush her against his chest.

This is Malak; this is safety.

"I won't let her," he says, and his grip tightens as she finally breathes out. She doesn't know how long they stay like that, only that when he pulls back he meets her gaze once again. "Meetra, I need you to focus right now. Where are you?"

She blinks heavily. Her eyes are on him, and he looks the same as he did then, but their surroundings don't. Her eyes move from boulder to rocky boulder, the carved temple at the base of the mountain, and the dry, cold air. Empty, empty, empty. All of it—empty, but it's something new.

"Nathema," she finally says, and her shoulders relax. Her voice is more confident when she says, "We're on Nathema."

Malak nods. "Do you want to go back to the ship?"

"No," she says again. Because she's stronger than this. She has overcome this, and she won't let it beat her again. "We're nearly there."

He stares at her for a second, but he seems to accept it. Once they're both standing he offers her his hand, but Meetra is so embarrassed that she could cry, so she ignores it. Instead she brushes the dirt off of her robes, and doesn't look at him. She focuses her gaze ahead of them, and by some silent agreement, they continue on.

The entrance is larger than she originally thought, and her eyes scan over the carvings—old letters and words she learned once upon a time but can't translate now. She watches T3 scan them, copying them to his memory core, while Malak ventures in first.

Meetra takes a breath and follows him in.

The feeling lessens slightly as she steps into the unknown, pulling out her lightsaber to combat the darkness that swallows them up. Viridian light pours over the walls, revealing painted figures and arches and symbols that Meetra doesn't recognize. The room itself is small and empty, save for a stone pedestal that sits against the back wall.

Malak moves towards it, but Meetra pauses. "Look," she says, and points to the wall above it. There are thin, curving lines arching around a triangle that sits at the center, and there are what looks like rings of...light, perhaps, around it.

She asks T3 to scan the walls as well—she's not in the right state of mind to analyze them now, but it might be useful information for later.

"What do you think it means?" she asks, but when she looks to Malak, he's picking something up off of the pedestal. Her brows furrow as she steps towards him, and in his hands is what appears to be pieces of paper, bound together along one edge.

He angles it towards her so she can see what's written on the first page:

To the one that follows.

Goosebumps raise across her arms as the realizes what that means, and Malak's hands shake where he's still holding it out for her to see. She dares a glance up at him, but he still stares at the paper, at what Revan's left behind for him.

"I suppose that's what we came here for," she says, her quiet voice loud in this silent place. "Perhaps we should read it on the ship."

He nods, and she watches his hands tighten their grip on the paper, but he looks up, finally, and over at T3. They wait for him to finish his scans, both exhausted, and finally they leave this place.

"We're heading back now," Meetra says into the comm. She sounds different even to herself.

"You were gone for a while, everything alright?" Atton's tinny voice asks, but it's a relief just to hear him.

"Yeah," she says, and even though she's not exactly sure that's the case, right now it has to be. "We'll be there shortly, get ready to take off. I don't want to spend any more time here than absolutely necessary."

"Sounds good, I'll see you soon."

Malak doesn't say anything once she clips her comm back to her belt. For her part, she doesn't say anything either, she's just happy to be going back to the ship. That empty feeling still swirls around, disconnects her from the Force, and she's ready to get some distance from it.

She relaxes once the Hawk is in sight, and both of them hurry their pace until they're at the loading ramp. Closing it behind her, Meetra shuts out the worst of the feeling, and finally breathes again.

Malak already flips through the pages he collected from the temple. There are only three of them, if she's counted correctly, but he spends the longest on the second one.

"What is it?" she asks, her impatience getting the better of her.

But he has that blankness about him like when they first watched Revan's message, and instead of answering, he hands them over.

The first she's seen, but the second is a letter, reading:

Malak,

I didn't want you to have to come to this place. In fact, I hope you never read this. I left you in order to remember, and I promise that I always planned on coming back, but I can't until I've dealt with what I've found out here. I have worked so hard to keep you all safe, but the truth is that there are forces in this universe greater than what we've encountered. I'm not sure that I have the strength to fight them, but it's only right that I try.

I'm assuming that if you're reading this, then my plans have gone completely sideways. If that's the case, I ask that you truly consider what it means to follow my path. I know better than to ask you to move on, to forget about me, and live out the life you should've lived all along. We both know you won't, even though I think you'd be better off.

Call me selfish, but part of me is glad for it. You are faithful to a fault, and even if the thought of you coming out here terrifies me, it's comforting to think that someday we might see each other again.

I know I can't prepare for every eventuality, and that despite my best efforts, it might all fall apart anyway. I'm trying, though, and the least I can do is leave a trail to follow. Hopefully at the end of it, I'll be able to tell you what it all meant.

Stay safe,

R.

Meetra breathes out a heavy breath, emotional despite who wrote this. Something about the resignation in the words doesn't sit right with her. It's not like Revan to give up, so whatever she's after, it has to be dangerous.

Meetra flips to the last page they've been given, and this one is a drawing—or rather, it's a map. There's another set of coordinates laid out past Nathema, where they are, and though Meetra doesn't recognize it, she knows they have no choice but to follow.

She looks up at Malak again, but he just holds his hand out to take Revan's letter back from her. She lets him.

"At least we know we're going in the right direction," she offers.

"Yeah," he agrees, but the way his lips pull up at the corners doesn't make him look happy. "Let's hope we're not too late."