Rebuilt, open and clear, the Enclave stood tall again, just as it had when Avery left it years ago. Both she and Mical were instantly at ease, walking through the now familiar-looking corridors, half expecting to see younglings marching in somber lines behind instructors. Mical had a life here far less taxing than Avery's: his nature ensured he wasn't fighting against each lesson like she had. The instructors and Masters would become exasperated at each of her insistent demands to perfect a form, her inability to wait even a short time before gaining or understanding something, her squirming around during meditation sessions. Mical, on the other hand, was a star pupil.

They were laughing and pointing out various rooms, each with its own story, until they reached the courtyard. For a moment, the Force settled peace over the crew, drawing in hints of the higher mysteries weaved through remnants of Masters before. Avery had sensed such things in her past, but it wasn't what she felt when she left the Academy.

He's calling her, waiting for her. She is finished with the Academy and the inaction of the Jedi. It is time to go to war. Kavar did. Why can't she?

Bare feet slide into soft brown boots. Lightsabers are holstered, robes donned, and she slips silently through the room of sleeping teenagers. It would be tricky to get past the Masters deep in meditation, but she could only hope they were focused enough on the Mandalorian issue that they'd be blind to her. One more room to slip through and she'd be out-

"Avery?" The whisper makes the Jedi's heart stop. She whirls around only to see little Mical, his tuft of blonde hair rumpled, confusion plain on his face. "What are you doing?"

Her lie is rapid. "I have to go outside and stand guard. One of the other girls my age is too tired. We have to make sure no bad Mandalorians get in here."

The boy smiles, admiration laced through his voice. "Oh. Well, if anybody can make sure they don't, it's you, Master Kess."

"I'm not your Master, silly. I'm just an instructor."

"I'm your Padawan," he replies insistently. "Want me to come out and help?"

"No, no. You stay here, in case one escapes me. I'll tell you loud and clear that he's coming. Just go back to bed. I'll wake you if I need you."

"Okay."

To her satisfaction, he is too sleepy now to argue, and shuffles back into the room of younglings. The outer door hisses open, and she is free.

At once, she takes off, sprinting through the open fields in cool night air. She knows exactly where he is, and her excitement is more real and more tangible than she'd ever felt before in her life. She'll help him, serve him, save innocents, make a difference in the war. There are no Masters to scorn her, no deadening emotions that came naturally.

She slows down when she sees him, propped up against a small ship, smiling broadly at her. He outstretches a hand. "You made it."

"I did."

"Are you ready for this?"

"More than ready." She takes his hand immediately.

"Malak said you were. You know he personally recommended you, right? Based off of all the things Kavar said about you back when he fought?"

"And…and you came to get me yourself?"

Revan nods. "For one, the ongoing battle can be carried on without me for a few days, so I had time. For another, I haven't seen Dantooine in a while. And most importantly, I feel that you will be a vital aspect of winning this war. I wanted to make sure you'd come with me." He lets her go, sweeps to the side. "Let's go."

She climbs in, fearless. Well, perhaps just a little afraid, as she watches the Enclave become smaller and smaller below. Her only home, her only family, is gone now.

But then she looks over at Revan, strong, brave, and enigmatic, and he flashes her a brilliant smile. She'd have a new family now. One that could save thousands.

"I think it would probably be best if I went in to see the Masters alone."

"Agreed," Bao Dur replied. "We'll stay here and keep watch."

The rest of them nodded, except for Kreia, who had wandered off shortly before. Avery left them and walked in to face the sad three remnants of the Jedi Council. Her head was held high again, but this time, she wasn't facing righteous indignation.

Instead of the judgment she'd been bombarded with at her last Council visit, Kavar greeted her warmly. "We were wondering when you would arrive."

"I imagine you have questions," Zez-Kai Ell remarked.

"I need to know what you all spoke of when you cast me out of the Order many years ago."

"You already know the answer," Vrook said impatiently. "You've noticed it in those who travel with you."

"What are you talking about?"

Zez-Kai Ell explained. "Haven't you noticed that when you act, others follow? Those that travel with you, they follow you without question or hesitation. Against their instincts, and sometimes their sense."

"Are you…" She paused, frowned, pinched the bridge of her nose. "Are you saying I'm controlling them?"

"It is not an easy thing to explain," Vrook began. "Surely you are familiar with Force bonds. The bond developed between apprentice and Master, where one truly understands another. It is developed over time. Yet you do it so easily. And we don't know why. You make connections through the Force, and it resonates with those who travel with you. It is even greater when they are Force Sensitive."

Zez-Kai Ell nodded in agreement. "Your actions affect others more than you know. You draw others to you, especially those strong in the Force. When you suffer, their spirit echoes it. When they are in pain, their pain becomes yours. And that is why the Mandalorian Wars echo within you still."

"You mean all those deaths…?"

"You were deafened to the Force all those years ago, because of that last battle of the Wars. To hear the Force over such pain…it is not possible." Kavar's voice was grave. "It was too much for any Jedi to endure. It is a wonder you did not die there when thousands perished, all those you had fought with and struggled with. You cut yourself off; because you had to if you were to survive."

The Exile simply stood there without the faintest idea of how to process it all. The three Council members began to speak in turn.

"You did it to yourself. You were deafened."

A voice, far away, or perhaps in her head, whispered in reply. At last, you could hear.

"You were broken."

You were whole.

"You were blinded."

And, at last, you saw.

Vrook's voice chased the stranger, softer one away. "When you returned to us, we saw what had happened. You carry all those deaths with you, and it has left a hole that cannot be filled."

"In you," Kavar said sadly, "we saw a wound in the Force."

Zez-Kai Ell finished the thought. "In you, we saw the end of the Force."

"But that doesn't make sense! I can feel the Force again!"

"Yes," Vrook argued, "but you are a cipher, forming bonds, leeching the life off of others. You siphon their will and dominate them. You are a breach that must be closed."

Avery began to tremble violently. She could hardly stand. "B-but-"

"All the death you've caused to get here…you fed on it. It made you stronger. You're like Malachor. It's in you. It's what you are now. Why did you think that the more you killed on all those planets, the stronger you became? And what if the Sith hunting you learn to be such a leech like you?"

"And that is why you are a threat to us all."

"A…a t-threat?"

"You could bring about the end of the Jedi, and all knowledge of the Force." Vrook's expression was exactly the same as one she'd seen before, a long time ago…she hadn't been shaking so hard then…"Our judgment before remains, Exile. You must leave. And you must leave without your ties to the Force. It must be done."

"No…"

"It is reserved for only a few, but we have the power to do so."

"Please-"

"Forgive us, but it is necessary."

"No, please…"

Vrook's arm flung out, and the Exile was instantly immobile. Her trembling stopped. "Do not be afraid," the Master said coldly. "You shall feel no pain. This must be done. As long as you feel the Force, you are a danger to those around you."

No, no please. Oh Force no, not again, oh please-

"ENOUGH!"

The three Masters were blasted back in an explosion of energy. The hold on Avery was let go, and she sank to the ground immediately.

"Step away from her." It was Kreia, fury in each syllable so powerful it shifted the very energy in the room.

"Wh-" Vrook stood and rushed forward. He was blasted back again, hard against the ground.

"Step. Away. She has brought truth, and you condemn it? The arrogance!"

"How dare y-"

"You will not harm her. You will not harm her ever again."

Avery weakly raised her head enough to see that Kavar was shakily getting to his feet. The Master was in shock. "I thought you had died in the Mandalorian Wars."

"Died? No. Became stronger, yes."

"Is this your new Master, Exile? If so, you follow Revan's path. Her teachings will cause you to fall as surely as he did."

The three Masters lit up their lightsabers, coiled and ready to spring. The Exile couldn't even turn her head to see Kreia. Perhaps, for once, the old woman would be afraid. Instead, she only cackled. "Do you wish to feel the teachings born from the Mandalorian Wars? Let me show you- you, who have forever seen the galaxy through the eyes of the Force. See it now through the eyes of the Exile."

The room was alight with red lighting, striking each Master in rapid tandem, chained together in painful blasts.

"You fools. Did you never wonder how Revan corrupted so many of the Jedi, so quickly? The Mandalorian Wars were a series of massacres that masked another war: a war of conversion. Culminating into a final atrocity that no Jedi could walk away from….save one."

The old woman looked down at Avery on her hands and knees. "And that is what I sought to understand. How one could turn away from such power, give up on the Force, and still live. But I see why it happened now." Kreia leaned down, put a wrinkled hand reassuringly on Avery's back. "It is because you were afraid."

The ground swirled about the Exile, and she blacked out.

Her eyes opened to blue sky and brown hair. Atton was carrying her through the Academy back to the ship, her teammates around her silent and grave. For just a moment, she allowed herself not to wonder what had happened, where Kreia was, if anyone was hurt. She just rested, curled up in Atton's warmth. It was a blissful couple of minutes before she'd learn of the events- and, she guessed- terrible things that had just happened.

He looked down to see that her eyes were open, and he breathed a sigh of relief. Each of the crew stepped into the Hawk until he was left holding her outside.

"Okay?" was all he asked.

"Yes."

He set her down carefully, then cradled the sides of her face and pressed a kiss to her forehead. The two of them walked up the ramp, and Avery's moment of ignorance was over now. She looked over her teammates, still unsteady.

"Where's Kreia?"

"She left for Telos," Visas replied. "I saw her leave, and women in white escorted her."

"The Masters?"

"Dead."

Avery was going limp, so Atton came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. He was the only reason she still stood. "Dead? All three? They're all…?"

"Explanation: Master, it seems that while you were speaking to the old Jedi, the even older woman came in and…interfered. We did not arrive in time to stop anything that was occurring, but I must say, it was a rather impressive feat to assassinate all three."

"That's right," the Exile said almost to herself. "They were about to sever my connection to the Force-"

"They what?" Mira interrupted.

"They said- well, they said a lot of things." She was slumped, defeat in every line of her body. "I need to go rest. We have to get to Telos. The Sith will be striking there next."

Mical frowned. "You don't look well. Here, Atton, let me take her to the med bay. I need to see if she's injured. You set a course."

His arms were held out, his jaw tense. It was clear Mical didn't appreciate Atton's informality about touching the Exile, but Atton let her go without a fight. She might have been going into shock, so petty squabbles were irrelevant at the moment. The disciple walked her away carefully without a backward glance.

To her horror, she already felt better when she was alone with Mical. Now that the Council had explained it, Avery knew it was true: she was leeching off of others' energies. She could feel the blood rushing back into her face, sense the peace and ease entering her spirit again. Taking it from Mical. She didn't even bother sitting when they got to the medbay. Everything was fine again. Even the shock at the deaths of her old Masters.

"You seem to have recovered," Mical remarked, voicing her thoughts. He noticed when she flinched. "What's wrong?"

"Why are you with me?" she blurted out.

"What?"

"Have you ever wondered why you're with me? I think…I think I've been influencing you all, without realizing it."

"I don't understand."

"Why are you with me? Do you understand why you attack who I attack? Why you kill who I kill?"

He took her clammy hands into his. "I follow you, feel as I do, because it is my choice. I believe in what we are doing- what you are doing. I am here because I choose to be."

"But how do you know that?" Her voice rose of its own accord; she yanked her hands away. "What if the Force is just controlling all this? You?"

He didn't answer her directly, just frowned. "Something happened within the Enclave. What is it?"

"I learned that I form connections through the Force. That's why others follow me to their death. I'm a w-wound in the Force. All those deaths could cause the end of the Force." There was panic in her now, genuine and encompassing. Everything else in her life she'd been able to control. This was impossible. "As long as I l-live, the wound will never heal!"

"That is what they told you," Mical said quietly, a stark contrast to her terror.

"Y-yes."

"Then they do not understand you. That is the danger of being a Jedi. When one separates themselves from others, chooses to lead a life of isolation, denying what makes them a feeling being- it is easy to make such judgments." His voice is a balm, steadily decreasing the panic. "And such judgments, I believe, are made in ignorance. There is no danger in what you represent- other than your humanity. You change others, but I do not believe it is due to the Force. I believe it is because you are a natural leader. You feel connected to the people around you."

Avery looked up at him, beginning to breathe easy. The tenderness on his face was clear now, and he carefully tucked a lock of dark hair behind her ear. "Where they look at you and see the death of the Force, I look at you and see hope for all life."

She swallowed hard, but he only stepped back. "I'll leave you to think. But please consider what I said."

Once he was gone, Avery pressed her fingers to her temples. If the Council was right, what was she supposed to do? The only solution would be death. Perhaps…perhaps for now, I can make myself believe that what Mical said was the truth. That way, I can find some solution to the Sith problem. Then I can face what I really am. But not now. I can't now.

I have to go to Atris.

Hissing, garbled language filled with hatred, bounced off the walls of the grand room. S0 much history, so many teachings were here, and she'd collected them all for the good of the Jedi Academy. What would they have done, if she'd not worked so hard? Who else could have collected so many Sith holocrons, would have been willing to dedicate so much time and personal peace to study the Dark side? She was the greatest of them, the last of them…no matter what that old woman had said.

The Exile was walking up the long hallways to her, to ensure that she did not execute Kreia for being a Sith. How little Avery understood. She'd been a mere child when she left for the Wars, and hadn't grown up much when she came into the chambers for her sentence. Even now, she seemed so young. Her head was held high, hair wild and clumsily pulled back, gray robes tattered. Atris was always perfectly groomed and centered. It was just physical proof of how she was a greater Jedi than Avery could ever have dreamed. And now, apparently, Avery was to fight her.

She has no idea, really, the effect she can have on others. How she can make them love her so easily, effortlessly. That is why I chose to do this. Two wars passed me by, and I did nothing. I saw her die right before me, and I cared for her so greatly. Now, I've learned so much…I can stop her, close up this wound, this shell of a Jedi.

Atris looked up to see the Exile, hands on the hilts of her weapons, stance ready.

"Kreia is not here any longer," Atris said calmly.

"Where did she go?"

"Where do you think? Where you started this. At Malachor."

"Malachor?"

"She intends to use what is there, the planet, to end Sith and Jedi. She will sacrifice herself there to make a larger wound, and attempt to cause the death of the Force itself."

"That's madness!"

"And impossible, yes. But she hopes to use you to accomplish it."

"And if I don't go?"

"She'll sacrifice herself at the heart of the planet, and you will die along with her. It will occur regardless. And if she does it, you understand what will happen, I assume? Not everyone is as strong as you are, Exile. Severing the Force in so many will cause death, worse than at Malachor."

Just like that, the Exile knew she had to go. It was the only way to ensure Kreia did not succeed, if by some chance her insane idea was possible. For a moment, she studied the tall woman in front of her, hair shining white, eyes turning from their pale blue to a glinting yellow.

"You've turned to the Dark side."

Atris laughed, hollow and unconvincing. "I? The last of the Jedi? Please, Avery. You always did jump to preposterous conclusions."

As soon as she stopped, there were voices coming from the fixtures in the room in an incomprehensible language. Berating her. Shouting at her.

"The Sith holocrons? Oh, Atris. You had to know how dangerous that was. You didn't really think you could listen to them and still stay in the Light did you?"

"There are many things I've learned, Exile. Things the Council could not have imagined without my help. I have sacrificed a great deal for what I know now, but I am still stronger."

The holocrons hissed again, fueling her. She pulled out Avery's old lightsabers. "You may attempt to defeat me, but I will prove to you that I am not fallen, or weak. I was always better than you. I always will be."

Avery's hand shot out, and Atris stumbled back, gripped around the throat by an invisible vise. Clearly, the Exile was using the holocrons just as much as Atris, and the Dark energy began to pour off of her. Atris clawed at her throat, a feeble attempt to stop the constriction of her air, and Avery laughed at her.

"You? Better? If anything has led to your downfall, it has been your pride, your refusal to even consider the possibility that you could ever be wrong. Not these holocrons. Don't you see? I am stronger than I ever was. I grow stronger every moment. While you, self-righteous Jedi, you grow weaker."

She was practically growling now, her skin wrinkling up already, soaking in the primal old energies flooding the room. Atris was turning purple. This girl was just a void, pulling in whatever Force was around her and bringing it back out. She was right. She was stronger. The holocrons were hissing, an eerie applause in the background.

In one last attempt for her life, Atris threw a lightsaber at the Exile. It was weak, but it sank into the ground in front of Avery, and with her temporary switch to survival instinct, she dropped the Choke. Atris crumpled into a white heap on the floor.

Oh no. Help. Help, Atton, please. I'm taking too much in- I can't control it-

Don't worry, his voice came back immediately. I'm here. Separate yourself from war and hate. Feel the connections of the Force: its currents and eddies.

It was still coming out, rising up like bile in her, clawing through her barriers. She saw Atris curled up on the ground and fought the urge to ram her lightsaber into that white hair.

Then she could sense Atton sending his own Force energies to her, even from so far away. She was drinking him in, his instincts and thoughts, his still-new sense of the Light side. When he started to weaken, the flow stopped.

Avery's skin smoothed out. She could breathe deeply again, and the heat in her blood calmed. The holocrons fell silent.

So it was true. She was everything the Council said she was. Atton saved her by giving up parts of his own energy.

I'm sorry I had to do that.

Nah, it was fun. Beats you looking like Sion if nothing else. There was a pause. Then, I'd do it a thousand more times, if you needed me to.

T-thank you, Atton.

Now Atris was kneeling, watching her fearfully. "What will you do? Kill me?"

"No," the Exile replied, coming out of her thoughts. "You will face the Council for judgment. It is not my place to decide what happens to you." She spun on her heel and began to walk away, leaving Atris amidst the holocrons. "I shall alert them to your current state, and they will come to sentence you. Whether it is exile or death, I hope never to see you again. Goodbye, Atris."

The fallen Jedi watched her walk away. She could only think that, once again, she had failed where Avery had thrived. Just as always.

There was plenty of news when Avery was back in the ship. Atton gave her a quick reassurance that he was fine, and, of course, more than happy to help (he seemed to enjoy playing the hero), and the Citadel Station was sending them distress signals. Despite Malachor looming in the background, Visas made it quite clear that the threat was her old Master, and he must be eliminated at all costs. One of the truly great Sith Lords would not be stopped by a few guards at a station. They had to hurry. And when Avery felt the fear coming from Visas in waves, she knew Malachor had to wait.