A shadow fell across the shredded body of a Jedi Knight, dragging the attention of the three standing above to look over at the man standing in the doorway to the classroom above them. Obi-wan, dead at the feet of Mace Windu, Agen Kolar and Kit Fisto. Cahal Meyrick took a moment to come to terms with what waited below him.

"What's going on here?"

It was Windu who responded. "A new age Cahal. The mistakes of the past forfeited for the promise of the future." He sounds weird, off a little. The Jedi Master stepped over the remains of his friend, the other two spreading apart around the room.

Cahal began stepping toward his Master. "And what future requires the destruction of all that you know?"

"The truth. The reality that I had been wrong all this time."

"I see."

"I don't think you do."

His eyes flicked to Kolar and Fisto. Their calm focus on him told him what was going to happen. "Then enlighten me Master."

"That we were meant to rule."

"Really?"

"None of them will understand, they cannot truly hope to. But they will submit, either through worship or fear, they will choose the new regime offered to them. The Jedi, as we are – well, were – today are a nuisance to what should be; they are a pestilence on the galaxy that needs to be removed for the health of the masses. They insist upon themselves in the state of affairs of all, promising justice and safety but delivering neither. You know, you've seen this. The people don't just desire these things, they crave them like a starving child. Those not like us are so like children, to be cared for, nurtured, guided in the right directions when their greed and envy and lust would distract them from the righteous path. We have always been tasked with taking care of them all, the wide expanse of life itself. And we've always had the power to do so, but restricted ourselves from taking action for fear of what we may be capable of; too much change. You know this all is true, I can feel it within you. Join me Cahal, and we can remake the galaxy into a haven of peace, justice, and security."

Cahal looked into Mace Windu's eyes, and saw shadow. Orbs blacker than black, an incomprehensible darkness. And he heard what Windu had said, precisely what he had said, and he smiled. "Oh, now why did you have to go and say that?"

"Say what?"

"Security."

"Of course security. We have to make sure the people are safe."

"I know. Most importantly that they are safe from themselves."

"Exactly." Somehow, in that moment, he looked so proud of Cahal.

"But you've never concerned yourself with that. Mace Windu loves the Republic. Democracy. Choice and free will. He loves it."

Windu looked surprised a little, realisation of his mistakes dawning on him. Then the lightsaber in his right hand sprouted, that distinctive purple glow stretching out toward Cahal. "It is such a shame." Orange sprouted from Cahal's left hand. "You have so much potential."

Crack-crack-crack... crack-crack, crack-crack. Orange and purple met blow for blow, Windu advancing and trying to pin Cahal into a corner. Cahal jumped back, blue sprouting from his left hand as his feet hit the wall, then he launched himself at Windu like a drill, spinning in the air with both blades forward.

Windu side-stepped and struck down, Cahal spinning the saberstaff horizontally above him as blue sprouted from the other end, forcing Windu to jump away. Cahal rolled over and came up to find Agen Kolar standing right in front of him, Kit Fisto just to his left. Fisto is totally unpredictable, can use that. Kolar is a one-on-one specialist. Can use that too.

Cahal advanced on Kolar, wielding all three as unconventionally as possible to throw him off momentarily so he could reposition himself, forcing Kolar and Fisto to try to fight side-by-side. Their discomfort was apparent by their hesitation, and their lack of experience was obvious in their lack of coordination. Won't have much time. He could feel Windu creep up behind him as Kolar and Fisto pushed him back.

Here we go. He stepped to his side, spinning the saberstaff to catch Windu's assault as he held off Kolar with the other. Fisto, as was the style of Shii-cho, was completely immersed in the Force, and though without real need to reposition himself did so and flowed straight into the opening at Cahal's back.

One down. He locked sabers with Kolar and planted his foot into his belly, sending the Zabrak rolling across the floor as he twisted and brought all his blades to hold off Windu's advance. All as Kit Fisto fell in a haze of energy buzzing all around them. The nautiloid Jedi Knight got caught in the insanely swift assault of Windu and the blazingly fast defence of Cahal in mid-attack with nowhere to go.

Crack-crack, crack, crack-crack... crack-crack. Cahal switched the saberstaff to operate as another single blade and fell back before Windu's assault. He's not susceptible to the same flaws as Billaba. Indeed, Windu had experience and endurance in abundance anyway, plenty to force Cahal into having to try to push an attack at some point. And if I do, I won't win. Damned if you do, damned if you don't. And Kolar is rising.

He fell back around the holo-table so it was between them, instantly taking slices from both him and Windu. That'll do. Using his left he held off Windu's attack and with his right he swiped under the table. Immediately he used the Force to rip the holo-table off the floor and send Windu hurtling away.

He turned to see Kolar rise, and behind him Obi-wan in charred pieces. Not again. He advanced on the fallen Jedi Knight, his old friend. He darted from point to point, thrusting and slashing, pushing Kolar back and keeping him there. Kolar was as entrenched in the concepts of Ataro as anyone he knew. He was a natural fighter, but that didn't give him a strong defence or any inclination toward being comfortable on the back foot.

Kolar tried to counter, and failed. He tried again, his blade hitting only air as it found a faster opponent in Cahal. And he saw it in Kolar's eyes, the Zabrak knew the wall was coming onto his back. He pushed harder to counter, orange and red locked at face height as Cahal's second weapon swept across Kolar's legs, cutting him at the left knee and halfway up the right thigh.

As Agen Kolar fell Cahal slashed at the Jedi's hand, destroying his lightsaber as he turned to see Mace Windu stepping calmly across the floor toward him. And now I have no way to win. But that didn't stop him advancing to meet his mentor in the middle. What else am I gonna do?

Windu swept toward him. Crack, crack-crack...

"You're running out of supporters."

Crack-crack-crack-crack, crack-crack...

"You've run out of friends."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Windu's eyes flicked over Cahal's shoulder. Down! With a charge of the Force Cahal slammed himself down so he faced up, slashing both of his blades out exactly where the Force told him to. His head fell just in time to see a blur of green light flash across where he was less than a moment before as his left arm felt the slight shiver of running through something. Better to be lucky than good. But he had no time, Windu striking down at him as he whipped his second weapon across to connect and knock the purple blade back as he rolled to the side and scrambled to hurl himself across the room.

Knees on what remained of the holo-table Cahal lifted his head to see the long white hair and wrinkled face of Cin Drallig above an almost-cut-in-half body. No. That means. No. Windu stood calmly where he had been, seemingly content to watch. Cahal's gaze drifted over to the doorway, but they came to a stop only halfway there, settling on the young woman holding a pair of lightsabers, one in each hand. Her shocked face turned to anger, and as her eyes fell on him he felt from her only rage, and hate. No, that's wrong.

The young woman flung herself toward him, crossing the distance in only a moment before striking, all four of their weapons flashing as he fell back at her assault. Focus you fool, or you're gonna die. Her power was far beyond anything it should have been, her rage seemingly pushing her higher, her hate urging her on at him. This is wrong. It was in his gut, from his skull to the base of his spine he knew that it was all wrong.

She made no attempt to push him toward Windu, his old Master apparently happy to just watch the little pixie push and hammer him around. He locked his weapons with her out to either side, trying to get some initiative as he head-butted her in the face. When she fell back slightly he stepped forward and kicked her in the ribs, sending her spinning in the air and crashing to the floor.

"Tell me Cahal. How does it feel?" He had eyes only for the young woman, no interest in responding to his former Master. "The knowledge that no matter how you try, that no matter what help you may find along the way, that this is all that is left to you at the end?" The young woman lifted her head, and for a moment he saw and odd sort of pained contentment covering her face, those eyes gazing at him fondly, like they always do.

He tossed the saberstaff to the side to lie forgotten as she picked herself up. "Destruction, pain, and death. That no matter how far you travel, how much good you do, death still comes for all. Trees die, rock formations erode until they never were, planets are awash with bloodshed as they are mined to hollow wrecks. Fire inevitably burns itself out." The young woman looked up at him, that heavy rage returned. So very wrong. She screamed, a powerful, horrifying scream of pain that somehow lasted centuries within him.

She charged at him once again, Cahal countering only with his proficiency in Soresu, giving ground only when needed, defending every strike as well as he could, never mounting an attack of his own as the woman flashed around him. "Nothing lasts forever. Change itself is a natural law of the universe, nothing remains the same, all moves on. We are taught, programmed like a computer, drilled like machines to serve those who have no respect for us, those who are constantly changing in a universe built for unstable growth; evolution, while the Jedi Order is a shrine of stagnation for over a thousand years. A symbol of the delusion of perfection. Could it ever end any differently?"

"Yes." He locked sabers with the pixie as he grabbed her left hand and bent her arm around so she had three beams of plasma about to cut her to shreds. Suddenly, everything was silent, waiting. He looked down into the eyes of the young woman, the hate and rage that filled her face only a memory. Now she was waiting, as though the plasma from their weapons wasn't even there. "Perfection is a concept born out of ego and vanity. To a Jedi, such a concept shouldn't even exist, and yet here we are, the same as those of a thousand years before. Trapped as the universe grew and evolved around us." His hand found it's way to the young woman's face. Somehow, still as wrong as before. "And yet, the biggest flaw is the assumption that we were perfect then."

He reached out and gathered the Force, then he sort of threw it at what was. And like a pebble landing in water it sent out a ripple against everything, a wave against all he could see. The young woman looked up at him, that familiar gentle fondness covering her face as she faded into nothingness with the rest of everything. Fisto, Kolar, Drallig, Kenobi, the room, Serra, all rippled to nothing.

Everything, except Windu. Windu was hit by the ripple and swelled, folding in on himself, turning into a white-shaped human without any features. Until Cahal looked at the featureless body, and he felt it look back at him, and next he knew he was looking at himself, the only difference; the eyes. A deep black emptiness that pierced through him, into him, unblinking, smirking. Cahal knew he was looking at himself, everything that he was and could be. "You are a fool." Black eyes said to him. "You know all this is true, you know it will all come to pass. And yet you heed nothing."

"Yes." Was his reply, feeling the repetition. A clear head can do wonders. "Yes, I am a fool. Always have been and always will be. Of course it will all end like this. Change is never easy and the longer one goes without change the more violent and destructive the change will be. But unless change comes from within is it true? Is the destruction of all that was really the price that must be paid for a thousand years of the ideas of just a misplaced few? Probably. Because we are soldiers. We say we are not, we are taught that we are not, and yet that cannot change the indisputable fact that we are. Soldiers sent out across the galaxy to tell people what to think and what to do and what to feel. Told by some old men from as young an age as possible what to think and what to feel and what to do and that all of which we say and do is the right way. We get it drilled into us that this is our way and that our way is the right way and that is that. That is all there is. But, what is compassion against the greed and the lust and the hate and the rage that poisons and steels men's hearts? Compassion is a way to stand apart, to stand above and look down on those around us, to treat them as something else entirely, as though man is by it's very nature corrupt. Maybe so, but our cleverness has made us hard and unkind. It keeps us focused on our pity for what life is instead of helping to show others what it could be. If we keep along this path, and continue to follow these lines of being told what to think and what to feel and that it is right by the nature of all things we will be turned into brutes; like the machines of the Trade Federation and the Techno-Union, destined to be the destroyers of worlds like the Sith Empires of old and never even know it because we will be little more than machines. Cold, cunning, clever machine men with machine minds and machine hearts. But we aren't, we are men! We have hearts not born out of reason but out of life, and so it is our love for life that should drive us, that special thing that unites us all, that runs true no matter who you are or how you came to be. We are all life, being Jedi or not doesn't change that, it cannot change that. We aren't machines we are people, every one of us, and the constant drilling and treating us otherwise only tries to hide the fact and convince us that we are not, that we are somehow more. But we are not machines, we are not beasts or brutes, we are men, with humanity and the possibility of happiness in our hearts to guide the reason in our minds; hope. Only the unnatural hate. Only the cold and the unloved resort to brutality. Teaching us these ways, the old ways turns us away from what we are, makes us pretend to be something we're not, never fulfills the promise bestowed to us and it never will, how could it when it forces us to deny what we are? Already molding us for the inevitable. But it can't succeed, because it's own intention is inherently it's own failure. We, us, we're giving ourselves to this place, this system, but the system doesn't matter, only the people matter. We all know it within ourselves when we stand shoulder to shoulder as soldiers, all that matters is the people standing next to us, the people hiding behind us, they are what matter, not what we are fighting, but what we are defending. Greed and hate and fear poisons men's souls and so it will come back time and again in different forms as it has before. It isn't about doing away with greed and anger and hate and fear, it can't be, because that in itself turns us into cold, clever machines. It's about the other people, all around us. Those next to us, those behind us. It's about the giving of ourselves, totally, for no other reason than for their sake, the gift of selflessness. We do it for them, and maybe one day they'll do it for us, or maybe for themselves, or maybe for people they've never met. And if they do that, then suddenly, there'll be gifts of selflessness being handed out over the worlds, across the stars, everyone will be kind and gentle and loved. And when that has happened, only then will we find that hate and fear begin to fade, that cleverness will be a thing of the past, because everyone will be there for everyone. And when that day happens the Jedi Order will be merely a legend of the brutal, primitive times of old. But before that day can come we have to stop being clever, stop being unkind, and remember that in our hearts we are men. With all their hopes, fears, faults and dreams. We are all, only the same."

And that will be all there was of us, in the end. Cahal stared across at himself, totally sure of everything that he had said if not sure of how it all came out of him. The him with the black eyes smirked back at him, and brought his hands up into a sarcastic clap.

No. It is true. He wouldn't be swayed, couldn't be swayed. All that he said was him, as much as the response was his own knowledge at the delusional nature of his own ideas and dreams.

And the him with the black eyes faded into the blackness that surrounded him, gone with the rest what felt like so long ago, and he was left in silence.

After a few moments there was a stone floor at his feet. Seven lightsabers sprouted into existence, each held in the hands of a different Jedi; encircling him in the gllowing light of their creation. Standing in front of him was Windu, a wary pride on his face, looking at Cahal as though he were studying a man just met.

Cahal had nothing left, there couldn't be after all that he had been through. So he fell to his knees, and the ceremony proceeded.

"As far as we can discern, the sole purpose of human existence is to kindle a light in the darkness of mere being." - Carl Jung