The Dawn Eagle, having significantly increased in mass due to its armor and weaponry, sped through hyperspace, measuring the light-years of the last jump to the once lost capital of Vitiate's Empire.
The stable route to Dromund Kaas, as it turned out, had self-destructed centuries ago, making the journey to the forgotten planet take almost two weeks.
All this time, Revan had been preparing his students and crew for what might await them in a world saturated with the Dark Side.
The least concern was Maul. The Zabrak possessed an innate affinity with the Dark Side and, like pure-blooded Sith, tolerated the pressure of the Dark Side perfectly.
Anakin, on the other hand, was quite sensitive to the temptations of the Sith's Great Side. Inexperience and an unstable psyche made him extremely vulnerable. Therefore, the boy spent all two weeks in meditation under the strict supervision of Revan or Maul, trying to find inner peace and learn to let the Force energy flow through him without allowing it to take over his body.
At first, it went very poorly. The slightest surge of Dark Side energy from his mentor or the Zabrak would throw the boy off balance, causing his consciousness to waver from Light to Dark. The hurricane of emotions that suddenly engulfed the young man threatened to lead to an inevitable fall into the abyss of madness, which the mentor absolutely did not want.
Revan patiently observed Anakin and his struggles, gave hints, and found out all the details of the boy's sensations. Together, they managed to find something Anakin could concentrate on, allowing the delusion to subside, leaving only pure Force energy. It turned out to be Padmé. Revan merely smiled at the coincidence. Both he and his student had chosen their beloved woman as an anchor. Although Anakin's love was childishly naive and, quite possibly, unrequited, and his youth even ruled out any attempt to convey his feelings to the current Queen of Naboo, the feeling did not become less deep and pure.
Love... Revan had long pondered that it was precisely one of those feelings and emotions that represented the quintessence of the Force's balance. Love could make you the happiest person in the world, or it could crush you and cast you into the depths of hell. It combined passion and tenderness, anger and care, and a hundred other emotional reactions that changed, sometimes instantly. And controlling this feeling was difficult, almost as impossible as completely subjugating the Force itself. But subjugation was not needed. After all, neither Jedi nor Sith did anything of the sort. Both factions built their teachings on the ability to interact with the Great Energy, allowing it to penetrate their bodies and souls, without letting it take control. The Sith used emotions to direct the Force in the right direction, while keeping their minds on the verge of clarity. The Jedi feared succumbing to temptation, lamenting the weakness of sentient beings, who by nature strive to satisfy their desires and needs.
Anakin was not close to the approach of the Light Jedi. His impulsiveness denied the peace preached by the Jedi. But he could not resist losing control, using fear or anger, like the Sith. Revan suggested using love as the emotion that would allow him to direct the Force energy, but at the same time not cloud Anakin's consciousness. And it worked.
The student reacted more calmly to the Dark Side energy and its tempting whisper somewhere at the edge of his consciousness, skillfully sent by his mentor. Soon, Anakin no longer needed Revan's constant participation in meditation to calm himself and try to interact with the Force. The mentor hoped that the training would be enough to prepare the student for what was to come.
Revan himself perfectly remembered his sensations of being on Dromund Kaas. A world hostile even to its own fauna, it sought to crush anyone who dared to set foot on its surface. It was not surprising that pure-blooded Sith thrived here. Their very essence was permeated with Darkness, and their history was an endless series of conflicts and dark rituals.
Rituals...
Revan knew in what terrible way Vitiate had gained his boundless power along with immortality. The cause was the disgusting and unforgivable Dark Side Ritual on the homeworld of the future Emperor. Vitiate destroyed an entire world, killed millions of lives and hundreds of the most powerful dark adepts among his kin. In return, he gained eternal life and power that was hard to imagine. The amounts of Force energy that the Emperor could channel through himself seemed unimaginable. At one time, Revan paid dearly for his rash attempt to redirect Vitiate's Force lightning strike. A trick that had worked countless times with strong opponents proved useless in battle with the Emperor. Revan simply could not channel such an amount of energy through his body.
But the Emperor could.
Vitiate's talent and determination could not help but earn the respect of the former Jedi. However, this feeling paled in comparison to the hatred Revan felt for the one who had condemned him to three hundred years of imprisonment... and deprived him of the opportunity to see his family again, to embrace Bastila... and to hold his son...
And this creature possessed immortality.
Immortality...
Dark Side rituals and Sith alchemy allowed the Emperor to achieve what was considered impossible. And this led Revan to some thoughts. Thoughts that he himself feared.
If Vitiate could gain eternal life... Could the same knowledge... bring a person back from the dead?
Revan glanced at the holocron resting on the table in the captain's cabin. What was he willing to do to bring Bastila back?
"Anything," a thought flashed, which the former Jedi pushed away, saying aloud only, "Many things."
As if reacting to his words, or rather, simply feeling Revan's touch through the Force, the holocron activated, creating a miniature hologram of the woman who had left this world.
"What troubles you, my love?" Bastila's gentle voice made Revan's heart clench, and then begin to dance with joy, making the former Sith smile through the tears that welled up.
"Nothing, my dear," Revan assured the hologram, "I'm fine."
Bastila frowned.
"Please, don't lie to me," she said demandingly, "Even if I'm not quite the same one who once agreed to become your wife, I know you perfectly well, Revan. Therefore, at least in memory of the real Bastila, please trust me and tell me what troubles you?"
Revan smiled almost imperceptibly, catching familiar notes of irritation in such a dear voice. She had asked him to share his nightmares about his past with her in the same way. He had told her everything then... he would tell her now.
"I miss you," Revan replied sadly.
The hologram smiled warmly, understanding the feelings of the one who had created her. The miniature Bastila wanted to say something in support, but could not find the words. After all, the imprint of consciousness was only a distant echo of the personality from whom it was made.
"And I don't want to let you go," Revan added.
There was durasteel resolve in the former Jedi's voice. Only someone who had cast aside doubt could speak like that. Someone who still had hope and was ready to fight for it to the very end. No matter the cost.
Something in the man's gaze caused the holocron's keeper a sense of unease, but she did not have time to say anything else.
Revan closed the holocron and, filled with confidence in the correctness of his decision, left the cabin.
Now there was one more reason to visit Dromund Kaas.
According to HK, who was piloting, there were a few hours left until they exited hyperspace, and everyone on the Eagle had gathered in the mess hall.
"Master, we will arrive soon," Maul said, barely hiding his excitement, perhaps informing, perhaps asking.
The Zabrak felt awe, anticipating a visit to the capital of the Sith Empire, lost in the ages. Apparently, in his attempts not to go mad during the brutal training under Sidious, Maul had taken the teachings and philosophy of the Sith too close to heart, making it almost the center of his inner world. Well, if it prevents him from falling into the abyss of madness, surrendering to rage and Darkness without restraint, why not?
"Yes, student," Revan nodded, confirming the fact of their imminent arrival on Dromund Kaas.
"Cool!" Anakin exclaimed impatiently.
"You will stay on the ship under HK's supervision," Revan cut him off.
"What?!" the boy exclaimed indignantly, "But that's unfair! I want to see too!"
"We are not going to admire the sights," the mentor interrupted the student, "The world we are heading to is extremely dangerous. Even in my time, when this was the capital, and the planet was patrolled by well-trained troops, people died by the hundreds and hundreds of thousands every day. This planet is saturated with blood, pain, and suffering. You are not ready for this yet. You will feel it yourself as soon as we reach orbit."
"But I'm not a child anymore!"
"Age has nothing to do with it. Do you think that's why we trained you all the way?"
"To take me with you?"
"No, to prevent you from going mad the moment we exit hyperspace. You can barely cope with what I or Maul give you in training. You are not yet capable of handling the power of an entire planet, and you cannot yet shield yourself from the Force."
"I..." the boy lowered his head and exhaled in disappointment, "I understand, Master."
Revan had no doubt that Skywalker had not resigned himself to this situation. The boy lacked experience in matters of lying, especially being gifted. Even without sensing Anakin's emotions, the mentor perfectly understood what was going on in the student's soul.
"HK, you are responsible for him with the core," Revan said sternly to the assassin droid.
"Doomed agreement: Yes, Master," the droid replied dejectedly.
The prospect of becoming a nanny again did not bring joy. The last time ended not too successfully, and the mechanical killer absolutely did not want to let his Master down. The only positive aspect was the frankly frightened face of the small bag of meat.
"Do not leave the ship," Revan ordered, "If I do not appear on board within twenty-four hours and give no sign of myself, leave for Coruscant."
"With readiness: Yes, Master."
"What about me and the horned one?" Nomad inquired, still displeased that Revan was postponing the fulfillment of his part of the agreement.
"You are coming with me," the former Jedi nodded.
"Expecting trouble?" the mercenary instinctively placed her hand on the grip of her blaster.
"This is Dromund Kaas," Revan shrugged, "The only unexpected thing here can be the absence of it."
Kira touched a few buttons on her left gauntlet and, apparently, checked some information on the screen of her armor's visor.
"Then I'll reload the flamethrower and grab more grenades. They might be waiting for your, what are they called? Sith?"
"Quite possibly," Revan agreed.
"Then my blasters will be of little use, I need something rapid-fire," the Mandalorian said thoughtfully, "I'm going to the armory."
Revan already knew that the Eagle had a full-fledged armory on board with the necessary equipment for repairing and assembling weapons and armor. HK had proudly demonstrated the new room to the Master. The downside was that the ship had lost its left aft cargo hold. The upside was that the Eagle was far from a merchant vessel.
Seeing the mercenary off, Revan continued to give instructions.
The astromech R2-D2, who was impatiently rotating the hemisphere of his head from side to side, also received a task. He was going to the planet's surface with the landing party. Revan might need a competent "ice cutter," as he planned, if lucky, to find and copy the Citadel's archives. T3-M4 had helped him greatly in the past, and the former Jedi was counting on the help of a more advanced counterpart of that brave astromech.
The rest of the journey passed unnoticed. By the time they exited hyperspace, everyone was ready.
Revan, along with HK and Anakin, was in the cockpit, waiting for the journey to end. In his hands, he held his Mandalorian mask, which had become his second face over the years of war. However, the closer the ship approached Dromund Kaas, the more clearly memories surfaced.
Revan raised the mask to eye level and looked intently into the T-shaped visor. He unconsciously rubbed nonexistent scars in the places where the mask had literally fused to his skin after Vitiate's attack.
Pushing away the disturbing memories, Revan began his ritual, which he performed every time before battle during the Mandalorian Wars.
Mentally reciting the Jedi Order's code, the former Republic army general calmed down with each spoken word. His breathing became steadier, the Force flows slowed down and enveloped their acolyte, strengthening his body and bringing comfort.
But as soon as the glow of hyperspace was replaced by the blackness of space, the Force literally trembled around them. The aura of Darkness that surrounded the planet could be felt even from a distance of several hundred thousand kilometers.
It was as if a stream of ice-cold air burst into the cockpit, causing the former Sith to smile almost imperceptibly. After all, Darkness was kind to its adepts, luring them with temptations and free power to the very bottom.
But Anakin was trembling slightly, as if he had been plunged into an ice-cold well. The boy was afraid, which only attracted the Dark Side. Only the few remnants of Force manipulation experience gained from his mentor's training kept Skywalker from panicking and succumbing to the temptation to dive into the saving embrace of Darkness. After all, the Force was near, just reach out your hand and there would be no need to fear. Why should one who inspires fear himself be afraid?
Revan took a deep breath and, with an effort of will, calmed the Force flows around them, slightly easing the task for his student.
"Breathe deeper, Anakin, and remember - you are safe," the mentor reminded him.
"Y-yes, teacher," the boy nodded.
"HK, you are responsible for him."
"Assurance: I will not fail, Master."
"Good. Land us closer to the Citadel in Kaas City."
The droid readily began to adjust the course, starting the descent from the high orbit of the former Empire's capital.
Nodding one last time, Revan left the cockpit and headed for the cargo ramp, through which the group would depart the ship.
In the right cargo bay, Maul, Kira, and R2 were already waiting. On Revan's advice, the Zabrak wore light thread armor with duraplast inserts, which hardly restricted his movements. All the better than the rags his previous mentor had given him. Nomad, however, remained true to herself. And what could be better for a Mandalorian than Mandalorian armor?
"Is everyone ready?" Revan asked the routine question.
"Yes, Master," Maul responded.
Kira merely nodded.
Securing the mask in its place, Revan turned to the ramp. The ship had just stopped shaking, indicating a successful entry into the atmosphere.
The Eagle banked sharply to the side several times, making turns, obviously avoiding the dangerous lightning that raged tirelessly in the planet's atmosphere. But finally, Revan and the team, even with active inertia dampeners, felt HK begin the braking maneuver. The surface was already close.
A soft bump announced a successful landing.
Kira exhaled with relief. After all, on board the ship, her life was in the pilot's hands. And one could expect anything from HK, she had already realized that.
Maul, on the other hand, was almost jumping with impatience, clenching the hilt of his lightsaber until his knuckles cracked.
"HK, lower the ramp," Revan ordered through the intercom.
A moment later, the wide door of the cargo bay opened its maw, gently lowering onto the mossy soil of Dromund Kaas.
Warm, humid air of the swampy planet rushed in, filled with the smell of silt and decaying algae. Nomad, with a practiced movement, closed the helmet's air ducts, directing the airflow through her armor's filtration system. The filter resource was limited, but it should be enough for a couple of days of stay in the unfavorable environment.
There were no dangerous substances or microorganisms in the air, otherwise HK would have notified them. The Mandalorian's maneuver was solely for comfort reasons. Revan and Maul limited themselves to breathing control techniques.
Kaas City.
The once beautiful and bustling city lay in ruins, which for centuries had been systematically overgrown by local flora. Paved streets were almost completely hidden by a layer of soil, and the remains of buildings were covered with dense vegetation.
Only the black, broken at the top Citadel Tower of the Dark Council was still clearly visible against the backdrop of the abandoned city. On the part visible from the landing site, one could even distinguish the emblem of the Vitiate Empire, carved into the stone masonry.
Revan suppressed the urge to swear and, signaling the group to follow him, was the first to step onto the surface of Dromund Kaas.
The group followed the leader's example. The astromech droid chirped something in a displeased tone, apparently lamenting the viscosity of the surface it had to move on. The mossy cover of the swampy planet was not the best surface for the rollers of the droid's motorized supports.
"Don't complain, R2," Revan waved him off, "We'll give your undercarriage a full inspection upon our return."
The astromech whistled and rolled off much faster.
Contrary to expectations, the Force pressure was significantly weaker than the former Sith had assumed. Obviously, without the constant presence of the Dark Council and the Emperor, the raging storm of the Dark Side had begun to calm down, nevertheless still hiding the planet in the Force from the attention of outsiders. It would have been impossible for a Jedi to find their way here intentionally.
Revan involuntarily recalled his recent dream and the feeling of helplessness that had gripped him in that vision. Thank the Great Force, it turned out to be just a simple nightmare.
Shaking off bad thoughts, Revan tried to concentrate and sense other presences. At first glance, apart from a couple of predators whose hunt was interrupted by the landing of the Dawn Eagle, there was no one around for several kilometers. However, something was wrong. The Force response was unclear, as if Revan was being pointed to something, but through a dirty glass. And the former Jedi recalled similar sensations that arose when he trained his assassins.
Force concealment allowed an object to disappear from view, making it invisible even to technology.
Undoubtedly, it was her.
So, someone still lived on this abandoned planet.
"We are not alone here," Revan quietly informed his companions.
The mercenary nodded briefly and lowered the aiming sight bar on her helmet. Maul, in turn, gripped his staff so that the activation button was exactly under his fingers.
"I don't feel any other presence, Lord," the Zabrak also responded quietly, "Although... something strange is coming from the Citadel."
"Remember this feeling, the gifted can hide like this."
"Assassins?"
"It's possible."
Maul nodded as a sign that he took the danger seriously and would be ready if necessary.
"There are only a couple of four-legged mutts on the scanners," Tira reported, "But I wouldn't trust the readings. Too much interference. It's a technological world, after all, even if abandoned."
R2 let out a trill in binary, confirming the Mandalorian's words. His sensor complex also gave contradictory readings.
"We're moving towards the Citadel tower," Revan indicated the direction, "Stay vigilant."
"Don't teach a Mandalorian how to hunt shirak," Nomad snorted, taking a couple of miniature spherical drones from her pouch and releasing them into the air.
Revan couldn't identify the model, but Maul seemed to have succeeded.
"Are these TMD-77-S?" the Zabrak clarified, "I used them on a couple of missions."
"The very same," the Mandalorian reluctantly agreed.
"Good search drones. Although the range is a bit small, they don't attract attention."
Nomad froze for a second, looking as if into Maul's face, but her gaze was actually directed slightly to the left of the Zabrak's head.
The mercenary sharply raised her blaster and fired.
Maul's lightsaber staff was already halfway to the girl's neck when it collided with the teacher's silver blade. The blow was instinctive, and, receiving a slight push from the Force in the back of his head, Maul immediately suppressed the flash of anger and put away his weapon.
"She..."
Revan didn't let his student finish, pointing the tip of his lightsaber somewhere behind the Zabrak's back.
Maul turned around. a step away from where he had stood a few seconds ago, lay the dead carcass of some lizard.
Guessing what had happened, the Zabrak turned back to the mercenary and nodded briefly, simultaneously apologizing and expressing gratitude.
"Don't get distracted, horned one," Tira said, slightly mockingly, "And don't get nervous."
"I didn't feel any threat," Maul grumbled.
"No wonder," Revan shrugged, putting away his blade, "It's just an isalaimiri, a local species of harmless amphibians. They have an innate ability to hide their presence by creating neutral Force zones. A defense mechanism against vornskrs."
"Whom?" Nomad asked again.
"Vornskr, it's a four-legged creature with a spiky tail, resembling a hound. It hunts using the Force."
"Cute planet," Revan thought that even through the helmet's visor, he saw Tira roll her eyes, "Even the animals here are 'those'."
"When the world is so saturated with the Force, sooner or later living beings will adapt to it. Regardless of whether they are sentient or not."
"Wonderful," the mercenary snorted.
The astromech droid rolled up to the lizard's carcass and cautiously poked it with a shocker.
"Let's go, we shouldn't linger in one place for too long. Blood will attract predators," Revan gave the command to continue moving again, "R2, leave the isalaimiri alone."
As they moved deeper into the city, the former Jedi increasingly wondered how quickly the Sith had left the planet? What had happened? Was it a gradual exodus caused by the collapse of the state structure? A natural process of degeneration and extinction? Or was it the decisive blow of a victor who decided to deal with the enemy once and for all?
As expected, there was no information about this on the HoloNet. The Jedi Temple archives were also empty. More precisely, the section open to students was empty. Everything related to the Dark Side was kept separately by the Order, so as not to cause a bad influence on the unformed minds of younglings and Padawans. Which Revan sincerely considered foolish. After all, how can you prepare for an encounter with something you are not told about? Masters' scary stories don't count. They contain only fear and not a gram of truth.
"Couldn't you find a landing site closer?" Tira grumbled irritably, climbing over another blockage.
The astromech, which had been selecting the location along with the navigation computer, tried to answer the question. However, few knew binary language. Tira might have been among those who weren't too lazy to learn it, but she didn't show it, only occasionally unconsciously nodding to the droid's trills before seeing or hearing the translation.
"Safe? No," Revan, who led the group, answered, translating R2's chirps and whistles, "We're almost there."
And indeed, there was nothing left to the tower, about ten minutes' walk.
And suddenly, the former Sith felt a strong disturbance in the Force, signaling approaching danger. Concentrating, Revan was able to detect a large gathering of living beings approaching the group from the east.
The mercenary and the Zabrak, noticing that the leader had faltered, instantly perked up and prepared for possible trouble.
"Lord?" Maul called timidly.
"To the Citadel! Run!" Revan ordered, assessing the number of potential opponents.
Someone's pack, numbering more than thirty individuals, was moving towards them. Too many for vornskrs or bog cats. And they were moving at a considerable speed, which indicated the ability to fly.
"What's wrong?" Nomad asked on the run.
R2, realizing that his chassis was not designed for sprinting, activated his jet boosters, soaring into the air.
"Looks like a pack of myaloks," the former Jedi replied.
"Big?"
"Bigger than necessary," Revan replied dryly.
The astromech chirped, voicing its sensor readings. The little one detected almost forty living beings.
"Bantha dung, I see," the mercenary checked the information received from the drones, "Hurry up!"
There were no more questions. No one suggested engaging in battle, as even the most experienced warriors tried to avoid encounters with packs of predators.
Myaloks (not to be confused with myanoks/minoks) were found on many planets, and therefore were quite widely known. Yellow-brown winged creatures with a flexible spiky tail, capable of piercing the armor of light vehicles with a blow or disrupting the operation of energy shields. If you hesitate, there will be no second chance.
Already on the rubble-strewn steps, the group heard a piercing shriek behind them.
"Hutt! Faster!" Revan ordered, telekinetically lifting pieces of stone and twisted sheets of durasteel that blocked the passage into the Citadel, "Maul, help!"
The Zabrak was not as good at telekinesis, but he tried his best.
Nomad, on the other hand, turned to the attackers and cut down one of the approaching creatures with a short burst from her rapid-fire carbine. Then another. But the sight of three dozen more winged monsters, whose bodies obscured the sky, sent an unpleasant chill down her spine.
"Faster!" she shouted, waiting for the myaloks to get within range of her sights.
The creatures were getting closer, making the mercenary more and more nervous. She couldn't shoot them all. Myaloks were not so stupid as to attack in a straight line. No, these winged monsters scattered in different directions, distracting the victim, and then attacked from different angles, trying to knock them down. Even for a Mandalorian, dealing with all of them would not be easy.
And then, just as the girl was preparing to open fire, she felt something tug at her belt, lifting her off the ground and dragging her backward towards the tower entrance.
Nomad barely had time to recall her drones before she found herself on the floor in a hall littered with debris, and the entrance from the street was already blocked by Revan and Maul with improvised means.
"And you weren't in a hurry..." Tira hissed, getting up from the floor.
R2-D2 whirred past, dragging a piece of durasteel ceiling in its retractable manipulator, groaning with its servos.
"Size and weight don't matter to the Force, of course," Revan said in a strained voice, "But it requires considerable concentration."
Maul was completely out of breath, diligently moving debris, not even pausing to wipe the sweat that had appeared on his face.
"Ha, and I was already starting to think that your Force has no limits. So many legends circulate in the galaxy about omnipotent Jedi," the mercenary chuckled, reloading her weapon.
"Well, even the best shooter needs time to aim, right?" Revan retorted, "It's the same principle here. It's not enough to just want to move a rock. You need to direct the Force in the right direction and clearly indicate what needs to be done. Otherwise, you can lift the stone off the ground, or grind it to dust... along with the entire planet."
Revan was exaggerating a little, but it served as an example. And besides, few had the patience to reach such heights in control.
Nomad nodded thoughtfully.
"R2, light it up," the former Jedi asked.
It became quite dark in the hall when the exit was barricaded.
The droid immediately obeyed, turning on all the lights it had. A beam of light snatched a pile of debris from the darkness, where the arched passage through which the group had entered the tower had been.
"Well, we won't get out of here quickly now," Nomad stated, turning on her armor's flashlight.
"You can always blow up the walls," Revan reassured the mercenary, to which she nodded thoughtfully.
"What next, Lord?" Maul asked, "For some reason, I can't sense the surroundings. It's as if they are trying to hide the tower itself."
"Not the tower, but the one inside," Revan clarified.
He also had the feeling that someone was nearby but not showing themselves. Not in this hall, otherwise the former Sith would still have been able to spot the stranger, even through concealment.
"And yet, horned one asked a good question," Nomad's voice sounded, "Where next."
Revan would have gladly answered, but he was having trouble with the answer. The memories were fragmented. During his last visit, he and Mitra had walked from the landing pad on the twentieth level. Where to go from this entrance remained a mystery.
"R2, check the service terminals, maybe there's still power?" the squad leader suggested.
"Do you really think anything here can still work?" Tira remarked skeptically, pointing to the moss on the floor and walls.
"One should not underestimate the technology of the Sith or other Force adepts," Revan said thoughtfully, "I have seen artifacts that functioned after millennia."
At that moment, the astromech, having rolled up to one of the terminals on the wall, chirped disappointedly, indicating the lack of power in the network.
"Well, it seems the generators don't apply to these wonderful artifacts," Tira chuckled.
"Obviously," Revan had to agree.
A flash of light attracted the attention of the entire group, making them turn towards the source. Revan and Maul reacted a little earlier, as both felt a surge of Force.
In the far passage beyond the arch, a dim light flickered, like an open flame.
The group slowly approached. Revan gestured for R2 to remain still, so that the hum of its servos would not interfere with hearing the threat, or, conversely, would not give away their approach to a potential enemy.
Beyond the arch was a long corridor, going upwards at an angle. Apart from the debris of destroyed statues of ancient lords and a couple of faded frescoes, there was nothing else in the corridor.
"Torches?" Tira asked in surprise, not believing her eyes.
Indeed, on the walls burned a few miraculously preserved torches, in which real fire blazed.
"Torches," Revan agreed, "The Sith always loved mystical ambiance."
"And someone lit them," Maul stated the obvious.
Everyone agreed with this conclusion.
"We are invited," Revan noted.
"Or lured into a trap," Tira added.
"For the Sith, it's the same thing," the ancient Force adept shrugged, "Let's go. R2, follow us, but quietly."
As the squad advanced, more and more torches lit up, showing the group the route, preventing them from getting lost in the labyrinth of passages. Or, conversely, confusing the exit.
"I hope someone is marking our path?" Revan asked, after ten minutes of wandering through corridors and once ornate halls.
"Of course," Nomad replied.
The astromech droid answered affirmatively a moment later.
"Good. Let's go on."
The group strained all their senses and used all available equipment to not miss the moment of the enemy's appearance. And everything was clear.
From this, the appearance of a figure wrapped in a robe became a complete surprise. Neither Maul nor Revan sensed its approach. It seemed to appear out of thin air, right in front of the squad, forcing everyone to raise their weapons.
The figure exuded the Dark Side, but there was no sense of a living being...
"Who..." Tira didn't have time to ask the question before the figure in the robe spoke.
A commanding female voice, with a slight elderly hoarseness, filled the Citadel corridors.
"You thought defeating me would be as easy as Zidrix?"
The group tensed, preparing for battle. Maul was already in a combat stance with his blade activated. Nomad and R2 aimed their weapons.
Only Revan stood, holding a deactivated lightsaber in his hand.
He recognized that voice! That vile, arrogant tone of the damned red-skinned old woman.
"Lord?" Maul called his teacher, noticing how he froze.
"Look at me – I am your doom!" the figure in the robe continued, slowly advancing on Revan, "I am Darth Nyriss, Mistress of the Sith! I conquered Drezzi, destroyed Mellidia! I am a member of the Dark Council!"
Tira fired, but the charge simply passed through the hood, not damaging the unknown in any way.
"What the Hutt!" the mercenary roared, firing again, but with the same result.
Maul waited, trembling with impatience, but not daring to attack, awaiting his master's order.
"Revan!" Tira called, realizing the futility of her attacks, "Do something."
Revan, who had been motionless until then, slowly turned his head towards the mercenary. The encounter with a ghost from the past stirred up not the most pleasant memories. However, almost immediately, the former Sith realized that he was not facing a living being, nor even a Force ghost. Just a Dark Side trick that could be encountered in places with a high concentration of Darkness, like the tombs and caves of Korriban.
"Away, illusion," Revan commanded in a firm voice and waved his hand, sending a short Force impulse.
The figure, which once belonged to the powerful Darth Nyriss, began to melt before their eyes, dissolving into the shadows.
"Watch him carefully. He is powerful and very dangerous," the almost inaudible whisper of the old woman was heard for the last time.
For a few seconds, the group remained motionless, comprehending what had happened.
"And what was that?" Nomad was the first to break the silence.
"A Force ghost?" Maul guessed, poorly hiding the delight and awe in his voice.
The Zabrak had read a lot about powerful Sith who remained in the world of the living even after death, albeit in the form of a ghost.
"No," Revan objected, bringing the daydreaming student back to earth, "It wasn't a ghost. Just a phantom, an echo of the past, imprinted by the Dark Side."
"And whose phantom was it?" Tira asked, "You clearly recognized her."
"It was Darth Nyriss," the former Jedi replied, "During our last encounter with her."
"Did you kill her?"
"Yes," Revan nodded.
"A member of the Dark Council?" Maul asked in shock.
Another nod.
"Don't linger. Be alert, there may be others ahead. And I'm not sure they will all be as harmless."
As Revan had predicted, they were being led directly to the Emperor's throne room. Very soon, the former Jedi felt a sense of déjà vu, recognizing the corridors the group was walking through. It seemed they were all the same, bright, pompous, filled with sinister beauty. Statues of Sith lords, frescoes of the Empire's formation, escape from Korriban, and rebirth on the outskirts of the galaxy. Even the tapestries were in place.
However, shaking his head, dispelling the vision, Revan managed to regain clarity of thought. The corridors were as empty as the rest of the Citadel.
The tension was increasing. The pressure of the Dark Side, combined with the feeling of danger, was unsettling. Maul was already practically growling instead of coherent phrases, which was a disturbing sign.
The former Jedi himself successfully kept his mind clear, balancing between Light and Darkness, allowing the Force to flow freely through his body.
"Assassins! Destroy them all!" from around the corner, a squad ran out towards the group, in which Revan recognized the Emperor's guards led by Captain Yari.
Maul rushed forward with fury, trying to tear apart the illusory squad. When he realized that all his blows were passing through the target, the Zabrak turned to his teacher and the Mandalorian.
In Maul's bright yellow eyes, only madness could be read. Revan immediately understood that his student was not himself. He had let too much Darkness in, succumbing to the environment.
"Hey, horned one, what are you planning?" the mercenary aimed her blaster at the Zabrak, seeing him preparing to lunge.
The mentor was only a moment ahead of the student, but managed to intercept Maul's attack in time, simultaneously blocking Nomad's line of fire.
Catching the Zabrak at the very beginning of his movement, Revan easily knocked him off balance and delivered several precise blows with his hilt, sending his ward into oblivion.
"What the hell?" Nomad aimed her carbine at Revan.
"The Force," the man replied over his shoulder, trying not to provoke the mercenary, "It's putting a lot of pressure on the mind. Maul couldn't handle it."
"And you?"
"I'm fine. I have much more experience," Revan replied with a sad smile.
Tira lowered her weapon.
"We shouldn't have come here," she suddenly said, "It's a bad place. Even I feel uneasy."
"The concentration of the Force here is such that even the non-gifted find it difficult," Revan confirmed, "But unlike us, you don't feel everything so acutely."
"Hooray, lucky me," Nomad hissed sarcastically, "What next?"
"Watch him," Revan replied after a moment's thought, "Can you get him outside?"
"He's not exactly a feather, of course, but yes, I can. But are you sure splitting up is a good idea?" the Mandalorian responded doubtfully, "After all, everyone saw the phantoms. And if the horned one wakes up, I won't calm him down so gently. He'll get a blaster bolt to the head."
The thought was sound, but going further with a wounded person was also dangerous. Unknown awaited ahead... or rather, someone strong enough to lure Revan here from the other end of the galaxy and, quite possibly, hostile.
However, they were almost at their goal. There was only one way forward.
"Then wait here," Revan suggested, "Only the throne room is ahead."
"Going alone?"
"I won't be able to be distracted by your protection."
"I don't need protection," Nomad snorted.
"Have you ever fought a Sith? It's not a Jedi who will spare you until the last moment and will attack with full force only if he has no other choice. And not a fallen one who attacks like a mad animal. A Sith is a cold and calculating monster trapped in the body of a sentient being. He is not bound by morality, honor, or pity. He will not play with you like I did on Tatooine."
Tira swallowed almost imperceptibly, struck by Revan's reprimand, reinforced by a slight Force influence.
The former Jedi really wanted to go further alone. Tira was still too young and inexperienced. If it were Canderous in her place, Revan wouldn't have hesitated. But to bring... a burden? And be distracted during a fight?
After all, it was this that ruined Mitra! She protected Revan, dropping her weapon. And exposed her back to the traitor's blow.
"I understand you," the mercenary finally gave in, "This is not my fight... Hutt... It's awful to admit my helplessness..."
"We are all helpless in some ways."
Revan turned towards the doors of the throne room.
"Be careful," Nomad suddenly said barely audibly.
"Always," the man replied quietly, without turning around.
It wasn't even necessary to use telekinesis. The throne room doors opened by themselves as soon as Revan took a step towards them.
It was almost impossible to see the throne room without passing through the doorway. As if the light itself dimmed, not entering. The twilight reigning in the abode of the Emperor's power hid much from prying eyes.
Once again calling on the Force, Revan stepped resolutely into the heart of the Empire.
The throne room had not changed at all. Darkness reigned everywhere, broken only by rare light panels that still dimly glowed by some miracle. A high vault, columns around the perimeter, and a black throne on a pedestal, surrounded by swirling fog.
It seemed as though the throne would unfurl and Vitiate himself would rise from it to fight Revan once more, seeking revenge for the audacious attempt to overthrow him.
Revan flinched as the chair on the pedestal actually moved. The former Jedi gripped the hilts of his sabers tighter, preparing for any outcome.
But he was not prepared for this.
It was not the Emperor's emaciated figure, clad in a robe as black as the Darkness itself, that rose from the throne. No...
A young woman in snow-white robes sat on the throne. Her short-cropped chestnut hair, her blue eyes that sparkled slightly from her smile.
Revan's mouth fell open in astonishment as he gazed upon the face of his long-lost friend and most loyal companion, not counting his dear Bastila. It was Mira Surik rising from the throne! The girl who, as a padawan, had followed Revan and Alec into war. The one who became the most trusted general in the Republic army, after Alec himself. The one who had saved him thrice... and had not left him even after death. His closest and most devoted friend. His apprentice...
"Mira?" Revan called out.
The girl smiled and was about to say something...
But she didn't have time...
An crimson blade emerged from her chest! Exactly as it had that day!
"No!" Revan managed to shout before the illusion dissolved.
In Surik's place stood a tall, broad-shouldered man in battle armor and a black cloak thrown over it. Red skin marked him as a pureblood Sith. His eyes burned with crimson fire. Several scars crisscrossed his face, speaking of a rich and battle-filled past.
But even if he had been completely disfigured, Revan would not have failed to recognize him.
"Greetings, Master," the Sith's voice boomed.
"Scourge," Revan replied, trying not to succumb to the rage boiling within him, "Traitor."