Part 7

"This is who we are."

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The man's body hit the floor hard with a hard thud of flesh and bone jarring against solid durasteel tiles. The two burly Sith guards each gave him an extra shove to make sure he had no ideas about rising to his feet. At a nod from the head of their lord, they backed out of the tiny cell and activated the force shield over the door, locking in the prisoner.

Darth Revan stood passively by, inscrutable behind his mask to the subordinates doing his bidding. Many thoughts burned in his mind, but mercy was not one of them. He stared through the forcefield at the man he'd imprisoned, totally unfeeling, and commanded the two guards to leave.

As they silently shuffled out of earshot, Revan leaned up close to the cell door.

"This is the only way I can protect you, Jalek," he said.

Painfully, the commander struggled to his feet. Revan had made sure his arrest was both very public and very authoritative, and the guards on hand had given Jalek a beating in keeping with the stringent Sith military doctrine; it had been very painful.

"I know, Lord Revan," replied Lorn Jalek, commander of the destroyer Righteous Judgment.

"When I leave, you will be reinstated to command of this vessel, as my suspicions will have been proven unfounded, and the crew is to continue following your orders," Revan explained to the loyal subordinate whom he had imprisoned.

"I understand. Do what you must with my ship, for it is yours to command. It is I who made the pact with the Empress, and she expects me to abide by her wishes."

"That is why I want you out of the picture, Jalek. But you are too valuable to waste, and more importantly, the Sith need to know that their Lord Darth has returned, and that he is not Malak."

The officer grinned, his smoothly weathered face displaying both intelligence and rationale. "Every Sith, no matter his stature or rank, knew the difference between you and Malak, Lord Revan. The Axia welcomes your leadership, should your plan succeed."

"The Empress will have no choice but to come after me," Revan assured him. "And if she will not serve our cause, I will end her."

"As you command, Lord Revan."

Calum Jan would never have had the stomach to do what Revan had just done, use a man who followed him loyally to further his plans. Calum would have recoiled in horror, but Revan was the manipulator and killer Calum could never be. He realized that he'd known this from the beginning, but only now was he truly willing to accept it as part of who he was.

As much as he wished not to know the terror of having to kill and use others to his ends, he could no longer allow that fear to rule him, keep him from what he knew in his heart he must do.

It did not matter to Revan that Jalek had been forced to swear allegiance to a new Sith, he needed the ship regardless. Instead of executing Jalek as Malak surely would have done, he chose to preserve the asset, for the officer had acted only in the best interest of his ship and crew, a trait Revan admired. And his upstaging of the Sith commander would send this mysterious Sith Empress a message, a message that he, Darth Revan, had returned. And in the meantime, Jalek's resources were his to use on his mission for Izayus.

Juhani and HK-47 waited for him outside the cell block.

"Query: Is the prisoner's torture to begin soon? Statement: I would very much like to contribute to the proceedings."

Revan rolled his eyes. "No."

"Disappointed Statement: Oh, Master, you are no fun at all."

"Why must we do this?" Juhani asked as Revan started off down the hall.

"Two things, Juhani," he answered. "First, I need this ship for any number of reasons, not the least of which is finding this rogue Force group." He deliberately avoided using their self-proclaimed name, Clan Izaya, loathing the connection implied. His mind saw them as a completely separate entity, and he intended to keep it that way.

"I may not remember very much from my tenure as Dark Lord Of the Sith, but I remember enough. Lorn Jalek is an old friend and right now I've put him in a very tight spot. A show of arrest and takeover is the only way I can protect him from this upstart Sith Empress who demanded his allegiance."

"But do not Sith have no allegiance but to the one with the most power?"

Revan checked the sabres at his belt, felt the comforting texture of the cold hilts under his hands. "I don't know, Juhani. Not everything is clear to me, either. In the past few days, I've met Sith I never dreamed could exist..." He trailed off.

Juhani seemed content to let the issue be. Revan was grateful for the silence. He shared her confusion, but could not afford to dwell on it; he was the Dark Lord of the Sith and he'd come home at last. No longer was there war within his soul, he was who he was and not one iota more or less.

The compound was even larger than he'd expected. Aside from one central structure, only a few ramshackle buildings jutted up among what was a small sea of tents. There were easily several hundred individuals encamped in the narrow cul-de-sac canyon. At the opening of the rift in the side of the dead gray mound that was one of Odeth's mountain ranges were parked a few small transport ships, some empty but others brimming with supplies - some no doubt stolen - of every sort to support to the remote encampment.

But it was the not the construction or the logistical support of the compound that repulsed Revan. Nor was it the pervasive coppery odor of blood- and gore-soaked stone, or the racks of bloody instruments outside each and every tent. It was the terrified screams rising above the camp noise that made him sick. As near as he could tell, every one tent in three was occupied, gruesome torture of every obscene variety taking place inside in nearly all of them.

The pain and terror in those screams pricked at his ears, threatening to loose the anger he felt growing inside him. With steely determination he bottled his rage, saving it for the task ahead of him. Occasionally, men gave him glances, but none paid him any mind. Black robes and burnished armor, while not common among the surroundings, were not completely unexpected. He was simply another Sith passing through a hive of Sith.

Righteous Judgment's battle sensors had easily picked up the Zayan compound amid the vast emptiness that covered most of Odeth. Even the slightest vegetation had been swept from the surface of the plains years ago, leaving nothing but dust and stone, neither of which could mask the blithely-parked transports from Revan's notice.

Juhani, HK-47, and a Sith contingent waited some distance away in a shuttle. He had insisted forcefully that he proceed alone. He did this partly because he didn't want to drag Juhani into what had indeed proven a pit of the blackest sin one could imagine. The overriding reason, however, was that it had become intensely personal to him.

For Revan, as far as he was concerned, there was nothing else beyond him and Bastila. Day after day, night after night, she'd loved him despite what they both knew about him. He was the Dark Lord of the Sith and nothing could ever change that, but she loved him regardless. In the same way, he loved her, despite what she'd done to him; her betrayal in a desperate attempt to save herself. The two of them were the same, they each completed the other.

An honorable Sith had asked a fair price of him, to relieve the suffering of his precious child, and in ignorance and unforgivable selfishness he'd refused. Now Bastila's life hung in the balance, teetering on his willingness and ability to become what he'd never wanted to be again and to do only what his heart told him he must.

At his bidding, fierce, righteous anger exploded from the depths of his psyche, inundating him with the pure ecstasy of unrestrained wrath. Anger was the only thing that could protect him here. The Force was no longer an ally, only a hindrance and a danger to him.

Behind the mask that was the personification of his dark nature, Soulreaper rose forth in Revan, preparing him for the trial of blood to come. He counted the shallow steps as he took them up into the main building--twenty-seven in all.

As he had expected, inside the building there was a greater profusion of luxury absent from the rest of the encampment. Soft light from no discernible source bathed the entire complex of interlocking rooms and snaking hallways. The walls were covered in panels of rich gray granite carved all over with strange characters. Soulreaper noted everything as he strode purposefully deeper into the monument to profanity.

He passed a few robed figures, their attire of a much better cut and more well-kept than that of the men he'd seen outside, and they even moved with a threatening grace the others didn't possess. It was clear to him that his suspicions had been correct; this was the place where the most talented and powerful of the Zayan beasts sequestered themselves. It was the eternal pecking order among cutthroats: Those with power take the most for themselves.

Revan stopped. He'd seen enough.

Soulreaper demanded blood.

With hardly a thought, he whipped his lightsabre from his belt and gripped it in steady, determined hands. A red blade ignited, announcing its presence in the still air with a disruptive electric shriek that did not go unnoticed by the building's inhabitants.

A multitude of other red blades rose to challenge his own. Soulreaper laughed at their pathetic show of resistance.

With the force of a flash flood, Revan crashed into the first three. His heart pounded in his ears, adrenaline raced through his body. His opponents seemed to be moving in slow motion; he dodged their seeking blades easily, sliding around their attacks to bury his own sabre in their chests. He spun, ducked, swung again, and heads hit the floor.

More came rushing his way. Soulreaper beckoned to them, promising death, blood.

The movements came to him instinctively; a cut here, a slide beneath the next blade, another upward chop there... Each maneuver led into another like an endless dance, a bloodshed waltz. The hum of his lightsabre in the air was the most beautiful, surreal music to his ears. He no longer even saw the faces of his foes, each one of them simply another body to cut, another neck to sever, another corpse in a long line of corpses-in-waiting.

Soulreaper counted every corpse, keeping a constant tally in his mind. This was not a task to be left unfinished, no one but he would leave this building alive.

On and on he went, the body count rising with nearly each new room discovered. The killing was a seemingly endless task, but Soulreaper demanded nothing less than complete annihilation, allowing him no deviation.

The bodies thinned, each kill growing father apart until Revan realized there were no others. The elite and powerful of Clan Izaya were dead by his hands.

Sagging forward, Revan suddenly felt very tired, exhaustion threatening to sweep over him like a tsunami. His arms could barely hold up his lightsabre, his knees wanted to buckle under him and take him to the floor tiles, it was hard to hold his head straight. The dance with death had drained him.

He was sorely tempted to collapse where he stood, almost uncaring of the deadly consequences of being discovered now. For a moment, nothing seemed to matter anymore. The tide of death he'd brought, no matter how deserved, made him feel like the biggest self-righteous hypocrite who had ever lived. The dead seemed laughing at his foolish justifications, comfortable in their own avarice and depravity while he accused himself for ending their blasphemous existence, delivering the only justice there could be had.

Angrily, Revan brushed aside those thoughts and started walking. He had to keep moving or he surely would drop from his exhaustion. But he first had to escape! Only then could the final judgment of Clan Izaya begin.

As normally as he could considering his fatigue, Revan exited the building of death and entered the main encampment. He hardly saw any of his surroundings as he plodded forward, his eyes focusing alternatively on the mouth of the canyon and the trail at his feet. From the noise, however, he could easily reason that there had been no alarm raised over the sounds of battle in the building. Amid the chaotic expanse of ramshackle huts and tents, screams of terror and pain as constant as the crackle of fires and the bustle of camp dwellers, one more mortal cry or twenty more was no notable occurrence.

Shortly after he made the exit from the canyon, Revan activated his comlink to the Righteous Judgment in the sky several miles away, signaling the interim Sith commander. He still was not as far from the camp as he would have liked, but he reasoned he was not going to be able to get much farther before he finally dropped.

He gave the order.

"Open fire, commander. Burn these abominations from the face of this planet."

In minutes, the sky was filled with a rain of destruction. Fiery red energy bombs screeched down to earth with a howling thunder, splashing the small canyon with inescapable fury. The ground shook from the impacts, the deafening explosions. The roar echoed outwards across the empty expanse of the wilderness, filling Revan's ears as he continued to stagger toward the Sith shuttle now in sight.

He'd done it. Izaya's children would hunt her no more.

Exhaustion overwhelmed him, then. Unable to go any further, Revan fell to his knees on the hard ground, slumped forward in a brief moment of supreme weakness. He reached a hand to the back of his head, undid the clasps on his mask, and held it out before him, pondering.

Silently, the mask stared back at him, the sounds of destruction softening into an ambiance in his head.

Soulreaper had served his purpose. That horrid part of him that needed no justification to kill, the part of him that would act first and think later, the part of him that he let kill Darth Malak, his old friend Aleksie; he was finished with him.

Cocking his arm, Revan threw the mask as far from him as he could, watched it tumble and roll across the sandy wasteland until it rested face down on the lonely plain. Over time, the dusts of Odeth would sweep over and cover it, leaving no trace of its existence on the smooth, unbroken landscape.

The bombardment was winding down when Revan finally dragged himself upright once more and plodded the rest of the distance to the Sith shuttle, where an agitated and concerned Juhani was waiting for him, relieved beyond words to see him.

I did it, Bastila. I did it for you.

"What?" Revan tore his attention away from the eclipsed planet they were approaching, he'd missed what Juhani said.

"We are being hailed, Calum," she repeated.

Revan blinked his eyes, fighting sleepiness. The journey back to Dantooine from Odeth seemed like it had taken twice as long, and he hadn't slept in almost thirty-six hours, too anxious to get any meaningful rest.

He'd left the ship Righteous Judgment back at Odeth, having reinstated Jalek and given him instructions to contact him when the Sith Empress surfaced to investigate his apparent disobedience. Revan very much wanted to meet this upstart Sith. The more he learned of "the Axia," the more intrigued he became.

But his interest in Sith power games was nothing compared to how much he wanted Bastila back. Even what Izayus had promised him in return for his help - the all-important Key - was almost of no consequence next to his desperate need to hold her, to see her face, to kiss her again. Every second they remained separated gnawed at him, the ache growing more intense the closer he got until it seemed he wouldn't be able to bear it.

But now that he was nearly there, weariness had caught up with him. The beeping on the communications panel had gone completely unnoticed by him. It was times like these when Revan wondered if Cathar actually were stronger than humans. After all, Juhani never slept when he was awake, and rarely slept even he wasn't, yet she remained far more alert than he was.

Considering scouring the ship for a stimulant, Revan answered the hail. A certain unwelcome figure appeared on the holo-projector.

"What do you want, Vrook?" he growled, his crabbiness and plenty of straight anger showing through in his voice.

"Just to talk," the old man answered.

"Go ahead."

"In person," Vrook clarified.

Despite his tiredness, Revan drew back in steely suspicion. "Yes, you would like that, wouldn't you? We already tried that. You betrayed me." The accusation was laid bare, Revan didn't even try to think it had been anything else. "You turned the Republic against me just like you did after the Mandalorian War. I didn't want to kill those men, but you left me no choice. I have no reason to listen to you, Vrook, and even less reason to trust you."

"I am not asking you to trust me, Revan. Only that you accept my offer of a truce for now."

Revan frowned. "What truce?"

"There is a man here, at the Enclave, who has told Vandar and I that you are different. I sensed a restraint in you that suggests perhaps that he is correct," Vrook explained. "If you will not trust me, perhaps you will Bastila."

Revan's hackles raised. "You have her too?"

"We do not 'have' her, Revan, she came to us of her own accord. I promise no harm will come to either of you. If you truly are a different Darth Revan than the galaxy has been led to believe, I would ask you to honor our truce. The Jedi Order is willing to grant you partial forgiveness."

Partial forgiveness. That was more than he had ever expected of the Jedi. If it was true.

Despite his seeming sincerity, Revan was loathe to trust Vrook even this far. He vividly remembered returning from the Outer Rim victorious over the Mandalorians, having raised a fleet and the means to fully protect the people of the Republic from the true threat that loomed over their heads. He had just begun to reinforce several of the outer worlds with fresh troops and new ships, when the propaganda started.

Vicious, deceitful misinformation spread through the Republic holonets like wildfire, feeding rumors and encouraging brazen lies that Revan and Aleksie had fallen to the Dark Side, that they were Sith and conquering the worlds they liberated. The images of cities and worlds ravaged by the Mandalorians were played over again, this time being blamed on Revan's heartless Sith. Entire systems revolted from his protection, turning their militia and other Republic forces against Revan's own.

He'd recognized Vrook's unique hand in the propaganda campaign from years before, when he discovered he and Atris were keeping knowledge of the war itself from the rest of the Jedi Order. Unwilling to give up after having battled so hard, Revan felt himself forced into the role of conqueror because it was the only way.

That was how much Vrook's word meant to him. To say nothing of his involvement in the recent events that saw Revan stripped of his identity and forced to unwittingly undo everything he had accomplished, Vrook's word meant nothing but betrayal.

And yet, doubt fomented in his mind. Revan knew firsthand what it meant to do what seemed wrong for what you knew was right--it was the story of his life. Could he really judge Vrook when he too was guilty of the same crimes? Was clinging to the past more important than moving on with his life?

So many questions he didn't want to answer.

The ship was entering the atmosphere, and Revan was so close to Bastila he could almost feel her presence through the bond. The galaxy could burn for all he cared, as long as he had her back.

"Very well, Vrook," he answered the Jedi Master. "We'll have our truce, for now."

After a harrowing landing, which was surprising only in that he managed to avoid doing any serious damage to the ship, Revan stepped out into the bright sunlight of high noon. Vrook waited for him just beyond the edge of the landing pad, saying nothing, just silently observing. Though she exited behind him, Juhani quickly cut in front of Revan, her lightsabre dangling at the ready from her wrist. She fixed Vrook with a suspicious glare, which the Jedi Master pointedly ignored.

"We must speak of prophecy, Revan," Vrook said as Revan approached him.

"What is there to discus?" Revan asked, not really in the mood to consider the roads still ahead.

"Vandar thought it best to inform you of its meaning, but he did so without the consent of the Order. You must understand that the fate of the galaxy impinges on this prophecy, Revan, making you the most dangerous person alive."

"So be it."

Vrook sighed in frustration. He matched pace with Revan and spoke as they walked, Juhani always careful to keep herself between the two of them.

"Does it not disturb you, then, that you are the one named to destroy the Jedi Order?" Vrook demanded.

"Of course it does!" Revan snapped, letting all his frustration hang open like a festering wound. "But named or not, that is not who I am. Those are the empty words of a misinterpreted prophecy that you and the Council saw your worst fears in. So you came up with a solution: Annul the Jedi oath to defend those who can't defend themselves. That is not who I am. I did what you could not, and thus your worst fears were confirmed, so I had to be dethroned. Suddenly I was evil for facing what you could not face. But that is not who I am."

"We will have this truce so long as you prove yourself this threat no longer, Revan," Vrook declared.

"I hope you will believe me when I say there's nothing I wish more than to be able to retreat into the wilderness with Bastila and and never trouble myself for the galaxy's sake again," Revan retorted. Then his voice lowered. "But you were right from the beginning; there is a larger threat waiting, Vrook. You and the Council were too afraid to face it, so I have to, for the sake of us all."

No more words were spoken between the two men.

At the entrance to what was left of the Enclave, Revan was surprised to find Izayus waiting. He clasped hands with the older Sith.

"It's done."

Izayus nodded in gratitude. "I thank you. I must confess that when they arrived for her I thought you had again betrayed our agreement. But for Izaya, I might have killed Bastila then and there."

At that statement, even knowing Izayus hadn't, Revan's heart leaped into his throat in sudden, debilitating fear. "What happened?" he asked.

Izayus cast his gaze to the floor as they walked. "I was too late. Never do I exactly know when they will find her, but find her they did, before you had had a chance to fulfill the agreement. Aliid gave me warning and I was only barely able to keep Izaya out of their grasp. Four met their end by my blade, but the others went after her, and I could not protect her.

"It was your Jedi Master Vrook who, in the end, saved her and Bastila. Aliid did all he could, but they were found by the other four who escaped my wrath. He was able to kill one, but three Force-immune monsters such as they would have had no trouble subduing a Jedi."

Revan was not a father, but he knew how it felt to worry for someone you loved and be unable to protect them.

"It pains my heart that your daughter had to suffer this last time, Izayus," he said in heartfelt sincerity.

Fixed by Izayus' rock-solid gaze, Revan stopped. Izayus clapped a rigid fist to his heart. "And that is what makes you and I different from the Sith and Jedi of today, Revan; we can hurt in here."

He pressed something into his hand. Revan looked down and beheld the tiny, red, glowing, tetrahedral form of a holocron.

"Nord Salga fought his war over this," Izayus informed him. "Empress Morte surrendered it to him in her defeat at his hands, and it has since come into my possession. The masked stranger gave him strict orders to destroy it, that in the wrong hands it could undo centuries of her people's hard work." His eyes flashed with satisfaction. "But insurrectionists captured it before the command could be carried out. They brought it to me, thinking I could somehow use it to overthrow Salga. I do not know its purpose, but I do know it is somehow tied to this enigma, and may be the means to unravel the mystery of the white horde."

Revan's eyes shot from the holocron to Izayus' face at the mention of what haunted his dreams so often of late. "You know of the white horde?"

The Sith smiled. "Among other things, it is the purpose of the Axia to know of them."

"Truth, honor, respect," Revan intoned.

Izayus bowed and repeated the incantation. "Long live Darth Revan."

Turning, the old Sith opened a door behind him, held out a beckoning hand to Revan. "Again, I thank you," he said.

Revan stepped into the room. She was the first thing he saw.

Dressed in her tan robes, rich brunette hair pristinely kept in its updo, her breathtaking gray eyes and warm face radiating love and care, Bastila looked about as beautiful as he had ever seen her. More, in fact. It seemed to have been years since he'd gazed on her face. She was sitting next to a pretty young woman with succulent blond hair and a hauntingly beautiful face who lay half-sitting on a cot, cradling an infant in her arms, when she saw him enter.

Revan could hardly restrain himself from running, so badly did he want to put his arms around her. Eagerly, she met his embrace, draping an arm over his neck as she pulled him into a passionate kiss. He moaned helplessly at the warmth of her lips against his, the feel of her alleviating the terrible ache in his heart from when he thought he'd never see her again.

"I love you, Bastila," he whispered.

Bastila nodded. "I have to tell you something, Calum," she said as she pulled away slightly, just to look him in the eye.

"Go ahead," he breathed, reveling in her presence.

She fixed him with a look of such seriousness it almost worried him. "You see, I realized something, Calum. Izayus, his daughter," - she gestured to woman gently rocking the newborn child - "and her companion, Aliid, have opened my eyes to something I would never have thought possible. Because of them, Calum, I can't love you despite who you are anymore."

Revan's throat constricted and his heart pounded painfully in his chest at her statement. He was terrified of what she meant. This couldn't be... not now, not after all this.

But then her sweet smile returned. She touched a hand to his face. "I love you because of who you are, Calum--Revan."

His heart swelled with relief, he kissed her again. Overcome with joy, he wept as he embraced her, hugging her tightly.

"I love you, Revan," she whispered to him. "I love you so much. You let noble Sith flourish."

They spent a golden moment in each other's arms, savoring the contact and incandescence of each other's presence.

Revan wiped a hand across his eyes, composing himself once again.

"I'm not ready," he said.

"Ready for what?"

"To leave for the unknown," Revan answered. "I met an old friend, and may yet find more. If there's anything I've learned, it's that I can't do everything on my own. I can't live without you, Bastila, and I can't fight another war without allies. Izayus has given me a valuable piece of this puzzle, but I still have to gather followers if I am to have any chance to succeed."

"Do you know where we should start?"

He nodded. "Odeth."

Bastila was silent for a moment. She gazed at Izaya and her child and her eyes filled with tears.

"Are we going to have children, Revan?"

Revan gently cradled her head against his shoulder. "Yes. Yes we are."

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End Part 7