For what is real

- Revan Freeflight -


The repulsorlifts hummed underneath me.

My cheek rested against the chrome of the jumpspeeder, my arms and legs flopping uselessly over it. The mugginess of the air whipped through my hair as the 'speeder coasted in pitch darkness.

Everything was black.

The Force can do terrible things to a mind. The thought was a sepulchral whisper, a dark voice I'd lived with for so long - without ever accepting that it could be my own malevolence, my own evil intent at war within me.

It didn't seem real. Nothing seemed real. To be faced with such a terrible truth –

It made me consider conceding everything, just so I could fall away into obscurity. Into nothingness.

"You never give up!"

Thinking was hard. My thoughts coagulated like glue, sluggish and detached. And then snippets of voices would spark faster than light through the apathy, before spiraling into another thought-stream just as shattering as the previous.

All this time… all this time I'd assumed it was a choice between Street Kid and Evil Bitch. One or the other. Not Jen Sahara. I knew that from the start. The truth seemed so… my train of thought twisted sharply around another jagged corner.

Maybe the truth was just so stupidly obvious.

Since Rii'shn, I'd been determined the vicious voice in my head wasn't me, couldn't be me, and I'd completely ignored all the clues thrown my way.

"Can't remember the blood on your hands?" a traitor mocked. "Or is it that you don't know who you really are yet?"

"A Jedi Knight. Riiight," a failed Sith student drawled.

"I've seen your mind, Ness Jonohl," the white-eyed Sith Master sneered. "A Jedi Knight you most assuredly are not."

A Jedi Knight… oh, it turned out I'd been a Jedi Knight alright. The best and the worst of them, all rolled into one hideous package. No wonder it'd been so natural to slip into the darkness; the powerful, cursed darkness.

Why? Why would I do that? How could I do all of what Revan had been purported to do?

How could any of this be true?

Bastila. Bastila.

Bastila saved my life, I'd known this already.

"You're Force-bonded to Bastila Shan," a troubled man with a second chance said. "That's… how did that happen?"

Bastila had famously faced Darth Revan, and she saved my life.

This sort of intimate connection only occurs if you bring someone back from the very brink, just as they are about to join the Force, and your very essence mingles with theirs-

Force-bonded to a broken Sith Lord. Hah.

Bastila had been concealing such a secret from me, from us all, while plunged into events well beyond her comfort zone. No wonder she'd acted like she had - panicked and imperious and annoying - back on Tatooine.

For I was never meant to escape the shell of Jen Sahara, or the enclosure of the Endar Spire. And Bastila was never meant to be alone with me.

My mind prickled, tiny tendrils of thought unfurling, connecting dots that should have been clear months ago.

"We can begin the implantation shortly. She is so far gone... I am not convinced this is the best course of action."

A control. A yoke, around my mind, to keep me pliant and ignorant. But why? The Jedi did not kill their prisoners - somehow I knew this as a core truth - and they also did not re-program them as someone else!

Isn't that against their ethos, or something?

I was missing a piece of the puzzle. There was a vague buzzing in my head, mirroring the thrum of the repulsors, every thought slow and dumb like a drugged spacer merely going through the motions. If I really was Darth Revan - a colossal horror I could barely grasp - then why in the Outer Rim would the Order risk patching over my mind and sending me off-world?

But I already knew the answer, didn't I? The Star Maps. It had always come back to the Star Maps, and now I knew what they really had to do with me. The final nail in the coffin of self-deception, the last blow against the mirror of ignorance I'd shielded myself behind. Street Kid found one in a krayt dragon's cave. Whatever they led to was the source of Malak's power. The source of my might, once. The Order, somehow, found out and were desperate enough to throw a coat of white paint over my fractured psyche and hope it held.

This sounded like something the Sith would dabble in, not the Jedi.

A gust of disbelieving laughter escaped me, unheard over the hum of the engine. Who the frell am I to talk? To judge? But they'd tried to turn me into someone else. The Jedi, the guardians of peace and stability, so afraid of conflict they'd refused the pleas of aid from a Republic under siege… until, apparently, I'd turned the tables and drawn them in.

The flashes of Revan, of me, had showcased the magnitude of her/my fury, of the power that the Dark Side could encompass. At first, it'd seemed memories of a madwoman, frankly unbelievable. After Rii'shn, it had spiraled into terrifying. But all the way through, the thought that the actions and consequences of sodding Darth Revan could belong to me…

All those deaths. All those deaths, due to me.

Jen Sahara had been someone, once. A casualty of my war. And the ramifications of an innocent, so carelessly tortured and thrown aside, slapped me in the face with its inhumanity.

Jen, so scared of her own father that she refused to leave the commune where she'd grown up. A shy scholar, whose empathy was overshadowed by her very real cowardice. Whose love of learning eventually came to naught, thanks to the horrors I unleashed upon her homeworld.

How many others, frail and bright and innocent, had died just like her?

"People die in wars," a Mandalorian snapped. "From what I've heard and seen of Revan, she killed only when necessary to achieve her goals."

My goals? What the frell were my sodding goals? The cliché of galactic domination?

The concept burned like acid. There was a faint metallic taste in my mouth. And suddenly I was angry, so frenetically enraged at myself, at the idea that I could have allowed myself to fall so far, to unleash such evil into the galaxy-

"We all have the darkness within us," a friend whispered. "It is how we deal with it that defines us."

It couldn't be real. It couldn't be true! A final gasp of denial rallied once more, choking the fiery rage, dissipating it back into the glacial blanket of disengagement. Yet a part of me acknowledged, even then, that my disbelief was just a mechanism of desperation – of scrabbling for some way to absolve the deluge of blood-guilt on my hands, so I wouldn't have to reconcile myself to what I didn't want to, couldn't, admit.

And the thought bloomed within, blasphemous and heretic, that maybe the galaxy would be a better place if the Force didn't exist.

"The Force is the energy of all living things, Padawan. It surrounds us, it binds us. It is life in its purest form."

Shimmering gently around me, held in place with the slightest of touches by a fragment of sanity, a reminder of the awesome possibilities the Force could provide. Light or Dark or somewhere in the middle…

And what was Darth Revan, if not the epitome of the Dark Side? Sun and stars, I may as well sit next to Exar Kun and Naga Sadow and have a sodding picnic. The image was ridiculous. I felt myself laughing in choking gasps, cheek sticking to the side of the humming 'speeder. Sith Lords probably didn't eat, anyway. Not unless it was deep-fried terentatek gizzard, or the sautéed eyeballs of a failed Sithling. Maybe a crumbed tuk'ata leg on the side.

I'd probably had lots of picnics with Malak, once. Malak… but he was Darth Malak, now. Darth Malak…

"It's obvious that Darth Malak's a ruthless tyrant who'll crush anyone who gets in his way... just like his master Revan had been."

Carth… oh no. Carth.

A new shaft of horror uncurled in my gut, like a poisonous kshyyy vine casting its venomous abhorrence into every single part of me.

Carth might accept a shadow of the Dark Side in his son, but an ex Sith Lord in his bed? The sodding Sith Lord responsible for the very war waging amongst the galaxy right now?

Back in the Embassy on Manaan; his gaze was unrelenting and tenacious as he questioned me about Deralia: "Were you there when Darth Revan's forces invaded a year ago?"

Was I there? Was I there?

A hysterical laugh ripped from my lungs.

His broken words, on Korriban: "Revan and Malak and Saul Karath… they're monsters, all of them."

He'd kill me, given the chance. He was Republic, through and through. And the Republic couldn't afford the chance of Darth Revan returning. "They were heroes. No one expected them to turn on us the way they did. Think about it... if you can't even trust the best of the Jedi, who can you trust?"

What the frell had the Jedi been thinking? What had Bastila been thinking, saving me from the abyss?

Death would have been a mercy.

Maybe my lack of memory was a mercy. Now, the gaping holes of nightfall in my head only taunted me with atrocities I couldn't remember.

Recollection would be worse.

But it was Revan. Not just Darth Revan, but the blazing Jedi Knight who'd blatantly defied the Council, and helped lead the Republic to victory, once. The one who'd convinced dozens of Knights to follow, to defend the galaxy against the very real threat of the Mandalorians. Hero, saviour, conqueror, villain… Revan just seemed too big to be a real person – let alone me.

And now, more than ever, I found it impossible to understand myself – to recognize what my values or motivations or loyalties were – or if I even had any.

"My loyalty is to the Republic, the ideals and the foundations it was built on."

And suddenly, I could imagine myself defying everyone – even the mystical Jedi Order - if the reverse meant sitting back while billions capitulated to the Mandalorian scourge. The Mandalorians, whose goal was to kill or convert any they captured in the name of pure conquest. They were steam-rolling a path directly to the Core, and the Republic was faltering!

Somehow, it had been me, alongside dozens of other passionate Jedi - young or old but all burning with righteousness - who'd helped transform a seemingly certain thrashing and subjugation into victory.

Oh, how the mighty had fallen.

The air rushed in and out of my lungs, frantic gasps of breath, as the staggering enormity of my own crimes once more lashed against me. There was a loss of balance in the parts of my body I could still feel, an acute dizziness as if I was slipping off the 'speeder, or slipping away into some nauseating state of unreality.

There was pressure on my back, and everything seemed to stop-

"Yudan, what the frakk? Why are you stopping?"

The vibrations under me eased, the engines calming down to an idle state. The air was thick like tar, and a dazed part of me realized the jumpspeeders had come to a halt.

"I sensed… something," someone muttered. Yudan, it was Yudan, not far from here. "A Force presence nearby. A Jedi, maybe."

A rumble of annoyance sounded from directly behind me, followed by a sneer. "Jumping at shadows, again? You're scared that bloody Tokare is lurking about, you yellow-bellied excuse of a Sith."

"Don't be an arse, Bandon," Yudan growled. "Do you want to be knocked off your speeder at full velocity by a stranger? Because I can show you how that'll go, if you like."

Maybe the two of them will fight, take each other out. Leave me here, alone in the bowels of a forest world, without a clue of my next move – or if I really was here at all.

Maybe I wasn't. Maybe this was all one completely frelled-up dream.

But the Force weaves still sat there, resting against my mind, a gentle balance repelling the outward world and leaving me invisible to their senses. Hiding the inactive neural disruptor, until I made a move – if I made a move.

I was tired. Tired of it all. I wouldn't have the fortitude to keep up the weaves for much longer, and I wasn't sure I wanted to anyway.

"Besides," Yudan continued, "it wasn't Vandar. I'm not sure if it was Light or Dark, but it was certainly someone."

"Bah," Bandon grunted. There was a wet sound as he spat to the side. "I can't sense a damn thing, Yudan. You're getting senile."

"You can't sense a damn thing?" Yudan shot back, his voice sharply sarcastic. "The entire Shadowlands are crawling with sentients that weren't here a day ago, and you can't even detect that?"

"Oh for frakk's sake, back your words up with a 'saber or get back on your 'speeder," Bandon's voice was gravelly with mounting annoyance. He wasn't the sort to back down, not normally. "If there's anyone around here, we'll deal with them like we did with Lestin. I'm sick of your twitching. Get a move on."

Yudan didn't answer, at first. I wondered if the two of them were staring at each other in a silent pissing contest, waiting to see who would blink first. Bandon wouldn't. Somehow, I felt like Yudan shouldn't - except that he'd been following Bandon's lead, so far.

At last, an irritated noise escaped Yudan. "I've a message waiting," he muttered, and his words were followed with a faint click.

::Bandon, Yudan,:: a silky voice sneered, and a rush of malevolence hit my bloodstream. The traitor. Kylah. The one who killed Karon and caught Bastila. The tiny circular weaves wrapped around me shuddered, just the smallest amount, before righting once more.

"Kylah," Bandon drawled in recognition. The repulsors underneath me sputtered into silence. The speeder bounced upward as Bandon jumped free, and there was a rustle of footsteps as he walked away from me, toward the holo-message. He always was easily led. "She's been unbearable lately."

::Our Lord grows impatient with your lack of communication. And I am just about to exit hyperspace outside of- oh, I completely forgot-:: There was a mocking tinkle of laughter. ::What system is it, Admiral Karath?::

::Kashyyyk,:: a male voice answered. The words were ground out in displeasure, as if the man was crunching rocks.

::Right. Kashyyyk.::

I had a sudden vision of Kylah smirking. With a stab of visceral hatred, I recalled her sultry cockiness as she faced me on Manaan, before I'd succumbed to the darkness that I had refused to own as myself. ::You have eight hours to convince him otherwise before I proceed with orbital bombardment. It would be a shame if you failed when I have so decisively succeeded.::

There was an electronic hiss at the conclusion of the message.

Bandon chuckled. "I'll enjoy making that schutta eat her words," he murmured. "My prize trumps even Bastila Shan."

"Orbital bombardment?" Yudan said. His voice had sharpened, and a low, angry noise escaped him. "Shavit, has Malak completely tipped over the edge?"

"Watch your tongue," Bandon lashed back. "Are you making a special effort to be stupid today? Kashyyyk has- what, exactly? Ten thousand Wookiees and a Czerka outpost? It's nothing on Taris-"

"Keep talking Bandon, someday you'll say something intelligent," Yudan sneered. His snark was steadily rising to match Bandon's, and he had to know that was playing with fire. Why was Yudan getting so pissy? Why didn't he kill me when he had the chance? "They're not the same. Taris has been an economic partner of the Sith for the last three years, for all that they like to tout their neutrality and pretend we don't have two standing bases there. Kashyyyk, on the other hand, is truly neutral and entirely defenseless. You think the undecided factions will sit back if we target an undeclared system with no organized military?"

I wondered, idly, if there was some way to provoke them into the fight they must surely be on the cusp of. Provocation was the sort of thing Revan was good at. Street Kid had always been clever with words.

How had I completely failed to see – to accept – what was now, in hindsight, so blindingly obvious?

"So? We're taking over the galaxy if you hadn't noticed, you half-bred imbecile. Dantooine was a civilian planet. Not like anyone so much as blinked after that-"

"Dantooine's Republic, and the Jedi Enclave there is an open secret," Yudan scoffed. There was an undercurrent of frustration steadily growing in his voice. "That was only going to piss off those already fighting us-"

"Frakk, Yudan, you're a boring sod. I don't give a dancing Twi'lek's tit what some piddly Outer Rim worlds decide to do, and neither does our Lord. Speaking of which-"

There was a compression around my midsection, followed by a sudden release. A fall, and an ungentle landing.

The sounds of my own breathing seemed inordinately loud. A sickening dizziness, as if I'd stayed in one position too long before abruptly moving.

Which I had – or had been made to – I realized dimly. I was staring up into darkness from the forest floor. Vaguely, I realized Bandon must have shifted me there with the Force.

There was a snap-hiss, and blinding scarlet stabbed into my vision.

Above me, Bandon stood wielding a lit 'saber and a vicious smirk. "Take a holo-pic, Yudan, and patch it through to Lord Malak. Send a copy to Kylah on the Leviathan, too. They say a picture is worth a thousand words, after all."

A second figure appeared, pausing as he gazed down at me. The dark crevasses along his cheekbones were a macabre sight against the red illumination. His eyes were pinched with fierce emotion.

I looked away, away from them both, and up into the infinite trees shadowed in the radiation of red.

"Done," Yudan said in a tight voice. He sounded – conflicted. Upset, maybe. I heard a faint electronic click. "It's sent."

"Aww," Bandon mocked. He must have put his 'saber away, for everything transmuted back into the black where I belonged. The dead, dead black. "Are you hurting, Yudan? Does it upset you to see your old Master brought so very low?"

There was an angry growl in response. "Do you want to get moving, or greet the sents headed our way?"

"What?"

A faint rustle of footsteps whispered against my ears. From further afield. We had company.

"You've got to work on that," Yudan said in disgust. "All power and no chivving finesse. It's a wonder you can wipe your own arse."

"Frakk, Yudan, that's it, I've had enough of your mouth-"

"Would you look at that," a new voice gibed. It was high with barely suppressed glee, and Bandon wilted into silence. "Two armour-less idiots with 'speeders."

Walking corpses, I thought dumbly. Whoever they are, they've just danced into their death.

"We'll have those, thanks," another voice, alien and foreign, slurred.

"Mandalorians," Bandon chortled. There was a sadistic grin in his voice. I should have felt pity for the unsuspecting strangers. A good person would have. All I felt was numb.

"No weapons, either," a third voice added. "Let's give them a head start, Boda. What, thirty seconds before we open fire and take their 'speeders?"

"Mandalorians working as Czerka mercs," Yudan said, his voice laced with distaste. "You're an honourless disgrace to your clans. To think that this is all that's left of your kind, scrabbling remnants taking orders from chivving Czerka-"

"Screw the head start," one of the mercs snarled, and I recognized the faint whine of a repeating blaster warming up.

The gloom was once more shot through with scarlet, as both Dark Jedi activated their 'sabers. I stared upward, unseeing, but I could imagine events as they unfolded.

A scream, a scuffle, a cut-off yell-

I felt a breeze, warm against my face, and knew it was the residue of Force power. Thuds, as lifeless bodies fell to the ground. The sobs of a panicked girl shuffling away-

Wait, what?

"Ooh, the Mando's got themselves a Twi'lek joygirl?" Bandon effused. The pitch of his voice spiked with delight. "Come here, little girl, let me look at you."

"Shavit, Bandon, this isn't the time or place," Yudan muttered, sighing. "And I'm not sticking around while you satisfy your urges. Let the sent go."

Czerka-employed Mandalorians working in the Shadowlands, with a joygirl by their side? That wasn't plausible. Not in the frelling Shadowlands. They'd keep any precious slave locked up topside, surely.

Maybe my mind really was slipping into insanity. Just like Malak.

"What, leave a Twi'lek girl all alone here? She wouldn't last a day." A dark chuckle. "Final chance to come willingly, little girl, before I drag you here by your headtails."

I tried to turn my head to see, but everything was so heavy.

"Please," a broken voice pleaded. "Let me go. I'm not even meant to be here!"

The voice stabbed a pain of recognition into my mind. Everything froze. The Force weaves I'd been so lightly judging shuddered again, and the sliver of consciousness focused on it barely had the strength to balance them aright. I won't keep this up much longer, I understood dimly.

Why did I feel so cold suddenly? I couldn't feel my limbs, but goose pimples pricked awareness into the back of my neck. Sweat beaded on my forehead, and the air was sluggish and heavy in my lungs.

There was a shuffling as the stranger moved closer. My head turned, this time, to see a slight figure in bulky armour some metres away, as the scarlet illumination bounced off her-

"Jen?" she gasped. Round, frightened eyes reflected in the harsh light. "Jen!"

She ran toward me, and I knew her, and she couldn't be here, not here, she was back on the 'Hawk-

The girl was lifted, hands scrabbling at her throat, and in the periphery of my vision I could see Bandon's raised fist-

"A young blue-skinned Twi'lek who knows our Revan?" Bandon mused in surprise. The delight in his voice was painful. It must be some sort of strange hallucinatory vision, I knew this - some torment my broken mind was spewing forth to punish me for my sins. "Didn't Revan's crew include a teenage Twi'lek?"

She was choking. Mission. Mission. What was real? My young friend, clad in that neural-resistant armour of Calo Nord's that didn't protect her neck, captured by frelling Mandalorian mercenaries in the sodding Shadowlands?

That wasn't real. That didn't make any sense.

"Jen," she whimpered again, and bright white crackled from Bandon's other fist.

"Wrong name, little girl." Bandon chuckled with unrestrained mirth. "Your Jen is actually Revan, or what's left of her after the Jedi took a crap through her mind. Still, Revan's pissed me off enough in the past that I desire a little payback. Watching you die can be the start of that."

The sparks of electricity shot forth from Bandon's hand, and encased the twisted mind-vision that looked like Mission Vao.

Mission screamed.

The detail of my warped mind was intense. The lightning sheered away from her Force-resistant armour, most of it bouncing harmlessly into the shadows. The edges of it curled around her bare neck and lekku. The cries of anguish grew louder, and a burgeoning horror spiraled through me like many fine threads of a wyyyschokk's web.

"Interesting armour," Bandon commented. "I guess this will take longer than normal."

The horror crawled through the detachment that had owned me since Bastila voiced my name.

"This is the price of knowing you, Revan," Yudan whispered. Somehow, I didn't think he meant me to hear those words. He was standing close but facing away, facing the perdition unfolding in front of us. The Mission-form twisted in mid-air, sparks of white-death flaring over her twining headtails, and suddenly I realized-

What if this is real? And if it wasn't, if it was just my screwed-up psyche plummeting into insanity, then what did it matter if I acted upon it?

For, real or not, I couldn't bear to listen to her screams anymore.

But – if I was going to do this, then I had do it properly. I had to fight to the bitter end with every breath and thought and tooth and nail –

I felt the burn of conviction as it sparked to life. I hadn't felt it in some time, but it was a familiar emotion, like slipping into a pattern of behaviour that was both a homecoming and a resurrection. I would do what was needed to save my friend, and I wouldn't give up.

Thoughts at once crystallized into a matrix of concentration as I regarded Bandon, who was unaware anything was amiss. My gaze flicked back to Yudan – still staring ahead – before converging upon the unlit 'saber held loosely in his grasp.

My mind cleared. All emotion vanished out of necessity. And I made my decision.

I dropped the weaves, and lashed out at the nerve restraints. They sputtered into electronic demise.

As pained feeling surged into my limbs, I drew harder on the Force than I could ever recall. I lurched a half-numb limb upward – the working one - just in time to grasp Yudan's flying 'saber.

I wrenched myself upright, the Force wrapped tight around shaking legs. My off-arm was tucked snug into my chest, hot flares of agony shooting through the limb that were wholly unimportant. My other limbs were unnaturally stiff, nerves slowly prickling back to life.

The Force sang through my body, sweeping aside all discomfort. With an instinct both trained and innate, I threw a psychic shield-block over my mind, submerged my vision back into Force Sight, and opened my senses to the world.

I could see everything. The faint spark of Mission, the dark miasma of Bandon turning slowly in shock, the influx of shadowed energy emanating from Yudan.

But even with the awesome might of the Force behind me, I needed a moment to loosen muscles that had been inoperable for some time. Bandon was the primary threat, his lightning dying out as he faced me once more, mouth gaping in stunned surprise.

Yudan's uncertainty was palpable on the Force. I could only gamble it would stay that way.

I stepped toward Bandon, my gaze fixed solely on his. I flicked Yudan's 'saber on, to one blade only, and stared Bandon down as I took another step.

His weapon flared to life in response.

Various attack plans ran clinically through my head. I held one, unfamiliar, lightsaber, and I fought best with two. I was injured. A fair duel was not in my best interests.

Bandon's greatest strength was sheer Force power. But then, apparently, so was mine.

I took another step and he mirrored me, as we closed in on each other in preternatural silence. I held his gaze and willed him to stay fixed entirely on my advancing form, and my senses unfurled and took note of the surrounding environment.

Even the trees here radiated with power, ancient and slow and unyielding. The forest floor was speckled with insects that skittered through dirt and leaves and paid no attention to us. The only things not teeming with life were the deactivated 'speeders.

My primary arm, the one clasping the 'saber, punched into the air. I unleashed my will, and threw a jumpspeeder at Bandon with all of my Force-might.

My muscles tensed in readiness as I prepared to intercept Bandon, if necessary. There was a mere fraction of a second before the 'speeder smashed into the ground, shards of metal ripping apart and careening through the undergrowth. Plumes of dirt were thrown up, and the acrid stench of ruptured power cells hit the humid air.

Bandon had almost no time to leap clear, and yet there he was, sailing away from the smoking remnants of his transport, directly toward Mission Vao.

I was ready.

An influx of power bent to my command. It was neither Light nor Dark, just an implacable determination to reach my goal. I landed in front of Mission a split-second before Bandon, and was already lashing out as his feet hit the ground.

Bandon blocked; I felt myself slip naturally into an offensive form, slashing upward to score a glancing blow against his cortosis-weaved robes. I struck again at his arm, his chest, his head, a flurry of frenzied attacks designed to keep him on the defensive.

He deflected them all.

My injured arm, tucked tight into my chest, was affecting the fluidity of my movements. His final block swatted my 'saber aside, and counter-attacked in a single motion. I barely dodged. I have to change the game plan.

My mind stayed blank; purposeful. With a wrench on the Force, I launched myself high into the air, landing on a low hanging branch from a nearby wroshyr. He would follow. I knew his character. And when he did-

I stepped closer to the trunk, and sliced my lightsaber clean through the branch.

Bandon, with no place to land, plummeted to the forest floor with a surprised yell.

I followed.

The red 'saber scored deep into the ground, an instant after he rolled out of the way. But I was on him as he'd barely found his feet; no finesse, just a brutal, rabid series of blows that had him stumbling backward.

But, again, he rallied, and a cold voice in my head pointed out my very obvious weakness.

"She is used to wielding two blades," a Cathar murmured. "She leaves her side unguarded when she only has one."

And injured, to boot.

Bandon snarled, smashing aside my next attack with his 'saber and coming in for a riposte aimed directly at my curled up off-arm.

I'd seen it, predicted it, and acted before he made contact. In a rush of wild Force energy, I threw him hard and fast back against the unyielding trunk of the massive wroshyr.

He crumpled, and I closed in for the kill, like a rancor sensing blood.

But Bandon was no easy prey, and even gasping for breath, he was already coming back at me with a powerful overhand I had to dodge sideways to avoid.

An upsurge of achromatic voltage sparked to life around him, a blistering aura of electricity centred around his left fist. I vaulted further away, pulling the Force tight around me. He strode forward, face taut with antagonistic concentration, before unleashing a mighty wave of crackling lightning.

Power can be transformed, my glacial mind whispered. Absorbed, and transformed. And Bandon's power was great, indeed.

I felt the lightning as it hit me. Pure energy at its core, able to be reconstructed into something else, if one only had the strength to do so. It sucked deep into me, transmuting into a raw, chaotic form of life, of potential in every single atom.

It was engulfed deep into my bones, the sheer power building until it completely filled me. And right at the moment I felt I could hold no more, I flung it back as a solid, savage wave of concussion.

My enemy went flying. Chunks of bark ripped themselves free from the wroshyr, sailing into the shadows. I was already in the air as Bandon crunched against the inner trunk, my lightsaber arcing toward his torso.

This time he didn't block. Yudan's 'saber drove deep into his chest.

The adrenaline burned. The beat of my heart was fast and loud. Harsh pants of air scraped like crushed ferracrystal in my lungs. And slowly, slowly, both the Force and the exultation of battle seeped away.

It's not over, I whispered to myself in desperation. It's not over yet.

The shield over my mind, blocking me from my bond-sister, still held. The Force Sight was shaky, but there. Behind, metres away, I could hear vague whimpers from Mission. And to the left-

I spun, shaky on my feet, and my gaze narrowed on Yudan Rosh. I could feel my senses fraying, as I stared at someone who apparently had known me far better than Mission Vao ever had.

He was standing, motionless, as if impotent while this battle had raged on. In his grasp was an unlit lightsaber. His fingers twitched, and a bright green beam activated from his hand.

The Force was skittering out of my grasp, slipping away like smoke on the wind.

There was a clinical thought in my head. If I'm going to kill Yudan, it has to be now. But I stood, staring at him instead.

"You don't deserve to hold that lightsaber," I whispered.

"I seem to have misplaced mine," he shot back in response, but made no movement in aggression. Behind me, I could still hear faint sobs, shuffling away from us. From me.

Now. Now is my only chance. The broken limb tucked into my chest flared with the onset of agony, no longer held back by the Force. The shield over my mind was weakening.

"Make a move, Yudan," I growled. "Make a frelling choice."

The clarity of my thoughts was disintegrating. The conviction that rode me to victory was fracturing, as the horror of my hideous truth began to resurface. Revan. I am Revan. The butcher, the villain, the fallen hero. Any chance for triumph over Yudan was fast disappearing. And yet, somehow, I found myself wholly unable to attack a stationary target from a past I didn't recall.

"This isn't over," he whispered. He switched off Zhar's 'saber, and took a step back. "I'll be watching you, Revan. This isn't over."

He turned, and disappeared into the Shadowlands.

I was left with the pounding of my own heartbeat, the flailing of the weakening Force, and the sounds of Mission's harsh breathing behind me.

xXx