I returned to the Dantooine settlement some time later; a year had passed, it seemed, since I had left, and much had changed. Meetra, already several years my senior, was blossoming into a great beauty the likes of which the bards would sing, Alek was no longer fully Vrook's creature, having grown into his own, and both of them had together constructed their own lightsabers on their own. Now, in those days, it was tradition that one would find the materials to construct their lightsaber themselves, but those materials were usually stocked on-world, so it wasn't entirely that difficult to find them. How Master Kreia came to the determination to make this into a trial is a testament to her wisdom; though some would call it sadism, her tutelage pushed me beyond what was expected of me as a Jedi, and thereby allowed me to grow into my true potential as a Force-sensitive.

"Ah, my young Padawan. Returned from your trial, and bursting with questions, I see. In due time, in due time," said Master Kreia as I walked through the door to our house. "You have the crystal, I trust?"

"Do you think me a fool that I would dream of returning without it?" I countered, holding up the violet lightsaber crystal that had kept me alive on my way back, across the cold and unforgiving darkness-blasted wasteland.

"There are many who have done and have yet to do things quite a bit more foolish than that," she replied with a certain dry humour in her tone. "Good. Now it falls to you to find the rest of the components for your lightsaber."

"I should have expected there would be more to do," I remarked.

"Indeed, you ought to have. And yet you did not. Why is that?"

"Point taken," I said, turning and leaving the house.

I walked towards the Jedi enclave to find out what I needed to procure in order to construct a lightsaber, but while I was walking, I passed Master Kavar's home, and I saw Meetra there, training with her own lightsaber and sparring against Alek. I must confess to feeling something of a stab of jealousy through my chest, and it poisoned the early days with Alek before we became friends.

All the same, I supposed it would have been more constructive to cooperate with my fellow Jedi, so I waited there in my threadbare robes, made lean and haggard from my journey, for them to finish their bout. I noticed Meetra had taken the path of the Consular by her green lightsaber, perhaps jockeying for a seat on the Jedi Council. In those days, I thought that I might make my way onto the council myself, and serve her in her capacity as Grand Master of the Order. That, of course, wasn't to be.

Meanwhile, Alek was training with a blue lightsaber, training to become a Jedi Guardian. Later on he would be our breaker in the war, taking on the toughest opponents simply because he could take the most hits out of all of us, and in an all-out brawl, regardless of how good or skilled you are, you are going to take hits. He was the first one to notice me, and pointed me out to Meetra. Meetra looked where he was pointing, then back to Alek. I could hear from where I was her shocked, "Kylo?"

I felt the worst at that. Had I been replaced in her heart? Had she given me up for dead? Had she really thought I would not return to her even if I had to transcend the veil of death itself to do so? Those thoughts were dashed when she came running at me and bowled me over, kissing me for the first time in my life as she tackled me to the ground. I… If I really try, I can sometimes still feel her lips on mine, like the ghost of a feeling, rarely perceived but when perceived, done so deeply. I… I must confess she remains my weakness, even after all these years. But, to the point at hand.

I was shocked when she did this, stiff, and I can imagine it was not the greatest kiss she had ever received. To this day, I wonder what stolen moments she must have had with Alek during my absence, but we will get to why I wonder that later. She broke into tears against my chest—I was quite tall by then, and she was always rather average in height—and sobbed, blubbering out so many words that I could barely untangle them all. But there was Alek, always the saviour, hauling her off of me and giving me a hand to grasp that I might come to my feet. The first thing I could think of to say, my hair mussed and my eyes, I should think, lending me a rather skittish look, my mind dazed and confused, was "I don't suppose you know how I could go about obtaining Mandalorian beskar, do you?"

He cocked an eyebrow, and I elaborated. "For components to a lightsaber."

He nodded sagely, and that was the last thing I felt before my legs gave out beneath me.

Some time later, I came to in Master Kavar's dwelling, Meetra looking over me, her beautiful brow furrowed, while Alek worked to calm her.

"Is he going to be alright?" she quibbled.

"He'll live," Alek replied firmly. "But not if you keep crowding him like that. He needs air."

"And food, and water, and rest. I mean, look at him, Alek! What kind of errand did that witch Kreia have him doing that he came back looking half-dead like this?!"

"It is not our place to question the methods of our masters, and it is especially unwise where Master Kreia is involved," Alek said warily. Even then, he shared the other Jedi's deathly terror of all things revolving around my master. "Come, I've got some tea on."

"Wait, he's coming around!" cried Meetra, and surely enough, my eyes flickered open to see Meetra poised above me, and Alek on the opposite side. "Kylo!"

I tried to speak, but my throat was suddenly too dry to make sounds. Alek lifted a canteen of warm water to my lips, and I drank greedily before it was taken away. I glared at him as he chided, "Too much will be a shock to the system."

Begrudgingly, I knew he was correct. At any rate, I could speak then, so I asked Meetra, "Why couldn't I speak at first?"

Meetra shrugged, and Alek responded. "It is because your body has subsisted on the Force and the Force alone for so long that when the flow fluctuated at all, suddenly your body's needs caught up to it. You should by rights be dead, Kylo Ren. I do not know how you survived."

"Disappointed?" I asked, hiding my malice behind a jesting tone.

"Hardly," said he. "It appears you are simply made from sterner stuff than most Jedi, and that is saying something. Now, you were saying something about beskar?"

"Yeah, what the kriff is beskar?" asked Meetra.

"It's the Mandalorian word for iron," said Alek.

"You want iron for your lightsaber," Meetra said flatly.

"Not just any iron. Mandalorian iron," Alek corrected her.

"May I have a turn to speak?" I bit out.

"Of course," said Alek.

"Mandalorian iron, or beskar, as it's known in Mando'a, is an extremely durable alloy against blaster fire and lightsabers. It dissipates heat very efficiently. Of course, it's not so good against blunt force trauma…"

"Why do you want to use beskar for your lightsaber?"

I stopped, and thought about Alek's question. I… I couldn't do it. I couldn't answer, because doing so would reveal far too much about my heritage. I was no longer a Mandalorian child; I was jetti. I was Kylo Ren—a civilian orphan from Deralia, and nothing more. "You're right. I suppose it was a rather fanciful idea…"

Meetra glared at Alek, and I was silently pleased by that. "Don't worry, Kylo, we'll find you plenty of lightsaber parts."

"But it is tradition that…"

Meetra silenced him with a look. "Come on, Alek, it's time to take Kylo shopping."

"Very well," Alek sighed, hoisting me up gingerly and supporting me on his taller frame as Meetra led the way.

As it turned out, picking out lightsaber parts was much like the way many minor orders who believe in reincarnation choose their heads; I was blindfolded and led out into the stockpiles for each part, and made to choose just one that responded to me through the Force. When we were done, we returned to Master Kavar's dwelling, where Meetra got special permission, though I know not how, to watch over me and nurse me back to health in Master Kreia's place.

Perhaps it was merely mentioning Master Kreia's trial that brought him around; perhaps he saw an opportunity to remove my master from the Jedi High Council. But it mattered not; the point is that he agreed, and so Meetra and I dwelt in the same house for some time while I regained my strength, and Meetra learned well the ways of the Force from the foremost master of its arts.

Eventually it came time to construct my lightsaber, and I was forbidden from using my hands for doing this task by Master Kreia herself. She said that I needed to learn to at least dabble in precision, and so, as in all things, it was to her that I listened. It took me a week to construct it properly, but once I did, I saw that it was a work of art that I carry with me to this day. Unfortunately, its unusual hue meant that I had to, for the first time, construct a second lightsaber, one with the green khyber crystal of my chosen path as a Consular.

In the end, it was my wish to see Meetra as Grand Master of the Order that brought me into the path of my studies in the Force, but Master Kreia wished not for a Consular of a Padawan, but a true polymath. To her for this I was exceedingly grateful, for it was the case that a true prodigy of the Force could do things a single Jedi Master could not. So it was that I continued training intensively in lightsaber forms under Master Kavar, and Force forms under Master Kreia. By the time we became Jedi Knights in full, I was ready to become an instrument of Meetra's will.

"Kylo Ren, and his teacher, Master Kreia!" cried out Master Zez-Kai Ell, having taken a trip all the way from Coruscant to oversee Dantooine's graduation ceremony and its proceedings. Unknown to all there, he was also there to investigate suspicions of the very vices I told you your Jedi Masters possessed, and so while this was not the first time I had seen him, given as Master Kreia was to drop me off into the archives while she dealt with important business herself, it was perhaps the first time many of the assembled Jedi had seen him, he of the walrus moustaches.

"Alek Squinquargesimus, and his teacher, Master Vrook Lamar!" he cried out, followed by a pause, which was in turn followed with, "Meetra Surik and her teacher, Master Kavar! These young men and this woman are exemplars of our order. Every test, every trial that was presented them, they surmounted. Their teachers have vouched for them, and believe they are ready to join the Jedi Order in full! And so!"

One by one, me first, then Alek, then Meetra, he took a vibroknife to our Padawan braids and cut loose that single lock of hair that denoted our junior status. I looked out on the crowd stoically, while Meetra looked fit to burst with excitement, and Alek, even, had a small smile on his face. We were each presented with the lightsaber we had crafted, I with my green lightsaber, having stowed my violet one away with Master Kreia, and the other two with their green and blue lightsabers, respectively, by our masters. Through means of legerdemain, she managed to slip me my true lightsaber, and I nodded to her as she did so.

"I, Master Zez-Kai Ell, hereby deputise each of you as Jedi Knights of the Republic! To protect and serve is your charge, never to rule or dominate or control, for these lead to the Dark Side, from which there will be no return."

Zez-Kai Ell was correct about one thing: there is no return. Once Boga has you in its grasp, it will never let go, and its reach goes beyond the veil of death. Such is the trade we make to protect those we truly love. Another thing the Jedi are both correct and incorrect about is the toxicity of attachments. Attachments will lead to the Dark Side, save for one. And for each and every person, there is one attachment that may be made that may never be betrayed, nor may it be subverted. It is the sacrament of True Love, and much like the tales tell, it is the most powerful force known to man, more powerful even than the Dark Side of the Force. It is so rare, however, to find one's true love that a person might live a million lifetimes and never find their perfect match. I was beyond lucky, then, or indeed, it might have been the will of the Force, that I found Meetra. The love I lost… And that day, that day was the beginning of the end, for us, for the Mandalorians, and for the Republic as we knew it…

Once the ceremony was over, I felt a tugging sensation at the back of my consciousness like I was being pulled along by the Force. In those days, there was known to be a khyber crystal cave some ways off from the Jedi Enclave, but even then, as it is likely now, it was infested by vile kinrath. I knew this, and still I began to move in that direction. It was a siren song that pulled me ever on towards its source, until I heard Meetra call, "Kylo!"

I turned and regarded her at once. "Meetra, you want to do something remarkably stupid?"

"With you? Absolutely," she grinned.

"What are you two scheming about?" asked Alek firmly. "We just became Jedi and already you wish to break the rules? I'd expect such behaviour from you, Kylo, but Meetra, really?"

"Well then, you can stay behind, and have the responsibility of telling the Masters where we went, and then have to answer the question about why you didn't try stopping us," said Meetra primly.

"I…" Alek's shoulders fell. "Fine. I'll come with you, if only to keep you two out of trouble."

Meetra and I looked at each other, and there I saw a glimmer of mischief in her eye as she bit down on her lower lip that stabbed me through the heart. We exited the Enclave in the dead of night, then, on our last night before we left for the Jedi Temple on Coruscant, and ran out into the darkness towards the speeder bikes. We had authorisation for them as Jedi Knights, and so we used that authorisation to race towards the kinrath-infested khyber cavern.

I still remember that night. The wind racing through my hair, Meetra's grin spreading ever wider across her face as we got closer and closer, her arms around my waist and her face pressed against my back in the storm of wind that the speeder bikes kicked up—even Alek got caught up in the thrill of it given enough time. It was enchanting, intoxicating—a night to remember.

We got there in good enough time, and parked our speeder bikes by the entrance. Two would avoid more suspicion than three, since Jedi at the time went out in pairs, Master and Padawan. I drew the hilt of my lightsaber into my hand and ignited the green blade with a snap-hiss, my other lightsaber at the ready should I need it. Alek's blue plasma blade came out with a similar sound, followed by Meetra's green as well. We padded into the cave, the two males taking point, and indeed, we moved in lock-step, wanting to avoid the jostling for Meetra's favour that would have embarrassed us both mightily. She had no patience for the posturing of men, especially for the posturing of men whom, as Jedi, should really know better.

We went into the cave, stepping lightly and carefully, the sounds of mynocks crying out their echolocation coming out of the mouth of the cavern, the sound and smell of kinrath skittering in the darkness bringing us to the point of caution, but not retreat. We went deeper and deeper in, carefully moving our way through the pitch-blackness and using the Force to guide us onward. Well, that and the dim luminescence of our lightsabers.

We were only a short way away from the cavern that we were seeking when a horde of mynocks came flying out at us. We swung our lightsabers and cut them down as they flocked around us and tried to latch onto us. It was a moment of the utmost tension, but when it was over, and we were ankle-deep in mynock bodies and guano, we couldn't help but laugh to each other as we realised where we were. It didn't help that every step squished with silicon-based fecal matter. It had a smell like fossil fuels and felt like sandy muck with every step we took, almost as though it was a bog-planet we had suddenly come into.

Then came the screams of the kinrath.

I'll never forget what it looked like to see their arachnid forms skittering across the rock walls and ceiling, coming at us from every angle. We readied our lightsabers and waited for them to come to us; and when they did, it was from every angle. They dropped from the ceilings and they sprung from the walls, they advanced across the ground and were not as impeded by the guano as we were. The humming of lightsabers filled the air, as did the pained screeches of these creatures as they were driven inexorably on by some impulse to action that bereaved them of any sense of self-preservation, as though they thought we were attacking their hive, and their queen forced them ever onward.

We advanced despite the onslaught, and eventually we came upon the cave we were seeking. It was illuminated brilliantly with lights of all sorts, some of which had neither name nor description in Galactic Basic. These were khyber crystals of all descriptions there, save one. There were no red crystals. I found that curious, and made a note to ask Master Kreia about the reason for that later.

Against a pillar, there was one crystal formation that drew me to it like a moth to a flame. It was bright, viridian green, and I came up to it, kneeling in the dirt and touching the crystal. The crystal broke away, and a focusing crystal came off of it. It immediately turned grey, but it began to darken in my hands. I secreted it away in my tunic, afraid of what that meant. Turning to Meetra, I looked as she selected a khyber crystal of her own, one that shone like burnished silver, and had a sudden vision of her with a silver-bladed lightsaber of her own, whirring as her armoured form cut through swaths of dark figures with a fierce and haggard expression on her beautiful face.

"This was a magnificent find, Kylo, but we'd best be getting back," said Alek, looking around with trepidation.

"Yes," I replied softly. "I have what I came for. Meetra, are you okay to return?"

"Huh? Oh, right. Yes," she said distractedly, gathering up her silver colour crystal and moving to the cave mouth along with the rest of us. We exited the room, backtracking through the corridor and the guano, and ended up at the mouth of the cavern, a great many blasters trained on us. Blasters held by a number of very terse looking pirates.

In those days, piracy was rare save along the Outer Rim, and even along there, the Golden Age of Piracy was long past, or perhaps, still had yet to come. Time will tell. All the same, Dantooine was largely unpoliced. Not especially strange considering the state of most Jedi worlds, but by the same token, it reinforced my belief in the providence of the Force that I was not detained on my long journey to the scarred biome on the other side of the planet. All the same, it was strange to be detained like this. We were put in binders, gagged, and blindfolded, our speeder bikes left behind as their speeders brought us away to an undisclosed location.

If friendships are secured with shared secrets, then what came next certainly cemented the friendship between myself, Alek and Meetra…

I can only guess at what the Jedi Masters were doing as we were in captivity. I knew that the pirates, however, were looking to take us offworld to sell us off at Nar Shaddaa or some other Hutt-owned hellhole. That was the way of these things, that Vitiate's Sith Empire paid a premium to have Jedi sent directly to him so that they could be turned to the Dark Side, and become model Sith. But at the time, I didn't know who was paying for the Jedi to be abducted; simply that it was always someone.

They were waiting on repairs for their ship when we were thrown to the ground like so many sacks of grain, and I could hear Alek and Meetra next to me. I fumbled around for some way to get out, to get free, but they had taken my lightsaber—the green one—and placed it some distance away so that I could neither sense it nor grasp it with my fledgeling mastery of the Force.

It took some time for them to grow lax and jovial, and it was late into the night, when they lay sleeping and the guards were drinking on their rounds—pirates were never particularly disciplined—when I called out to Meetra through the Force, tentatively at first. Meetra… Lightsaber…

No… she sent back. In retrospect, that was probably when she got confirmation as to how I felt about her. It was Vitiate who taught me to guard myself when communicating with another through the Force, not Kreia, so I can only imagine what I revealed to her in those moments as my mind brushed against hers.

I cursed to myself, knowing that if Meetra's lightsaber was taken, then Alek's most certainly was as well. He was a big man, after all, and if anyone could do damage with a lightsaber, it would be him. All the same, it seemed as though they took some precautions, though it wasn't enough. The Force was not as much of a known quantity back then, so they didn't know that they had to prepare for that, the inadequacy of most preparations that take the Force into account aside.

The binders, however, were on our arms and did not impede the dexterity of our fingers overmuch, and so I immediately took a deep breath and settled into planning our escape. I focused on the violet lightsaber inside my tunic, and brought it forth into my hands, flipping end over end out of my clothes and down my arms to land into my hand. I ignited my lightsaber, and with that, I ascended from where I was and began to let the Force guide me towards Meetra and Alek, slicing through their bindings and gathering up our effects. With a careful precision, I cut away Meetra's and Alek's binders, and they with their lightsabers managed to slice through my own binders. Taking their speeders, we settled into silent running and managed to slip away relatively unnoticed. I can only imagine their faces when they awoke surrounded by Enclave guardians and Republic soldiers.

Alek rounded on me when we were safely away. "You have a second lightsaber?!"

"Yes, I happen to practise Jar'Kai variants of my lightsaber forms. What of it?" I asked.

"Alek…" Meetra began.

Alek raised his hand. "And yet you used that second lightsaber to save not just your own life, but mine and Meetra's as well. I owe you a debt, Kylo. And in recognition of that, I will keep your secret. I know not why you wish for it to remain a secret, but I will keep it all the same."

"Thank you, Alek," said I, stepping forth and taking his arm in mine. "I appreciate it."

"But from now on, you're my responsibility," he said, raising a hand and waggling a finger. "No more rule-breaking without me there to keep you out of trouble."

"That goes double for me," said Meetra, grinning so fervently that my heart skipped a beat. It was in that moment that, looking at her, I knew that I loved her, and that I would love her then and thereafter, and forevermore.

It was at that moment that Bastila's shuttle began to rock out of hyperspace, and she looked up from the holocron's tale to go to the front of the ship. There was no Sith presence there, somehow, despite it being nominally Revan's capital. She noticed that she no longer tried to deceive herself. Kylo Wren as he had been related in Revan's story was so fundamentally different from the Darth Revan she knew and was growing fond of. Or should it be Lord Revan now, considering that she was now at least nominally his apprentice? She knew not which it was, but regardless, she had work to do. She got into her seat and began to go through certain checks to ensure that any Sith ships in the area as well as the port authorities did not think of her as being a hostile entity. Though how she, a single Jedi, could be a threat on a planet swarming with Dark Jedi and Sith was beyond her, she still thought it better to be safe than debris scattered across the barren world's desert surface.

She had something show up on her sensors, and indeed, her communications system, rudimentary though it might have been, was being pinged. She engaged it, and it showed what looked to be a Lord Revan well on the mend. Well, certainly further along than he had been when he had ripped through the Jedi Enclave on Dantooine, that was for certain.

"Ah, Bastila. You're a sight for sore eyes," he said with a fondness in his voice. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to do something a mite…troublesome."

"Anything you wish, Lord Revan," she answered with an inclining of her head.

He chuckled. "Already the eager apprentice, I see. But not the understanding one. Don't worry, you'll learn to understand soon enough. On the surface of Korriban there is a settlement. Its name is Dreshdae, and it is very close in proximity to the Sith Academy here. Like a certain True Sith on the Dark Council on Dromund Kaas, however, I appreciate the value of tradition. Now, unlike him, I do not believe that without tradition, we are nothing, but that's really neither here nor there. The point is that it is traditional for all Sith to go through a Sith Academy, whether it be here on Korriban, the one on Dromund Kaas, or the Trayus Academy on Malachor V, and since the latter two are not open to us, it falls to this one to serve its purpose. I hope you'll forgive me, as I had to make a quick stop on Ziost to procure some resources for your training, but I'm here now, and I would like you to learn the fundamentals of Sith philosophy and prove yourself to my underlings. If they are to follow you, they must respect you, and if they are to respect you, you must at least have the facade of legitimacy in their eyes."

Bastila nodded. That made sense enough. Though she was perplexed. "What will they teach me that you cannot?"

"Nothing, save that I have not the inclination to teach a neophyte how to turn their khyber crystal red. Those don't occur naturally, you know. There's a ritual to it, a ritual of Sith Alchemy. There is much you must unlearn from your time amongst the Jedi, and this is the most expedient way to do it. But remember, no matter how much they might have to impart to you, I am your Master, and so the final say on the teachings you are to follow remains with me. Pride goeth before the fall and all that," said Lord Revan seriously.

"Of course, my lord," she said, slightly offended that he thought she needed a reminder of how dangerous the Dark Side was before realising that she was very much in enemy territory right now as far as the rest of the Sith Empire was concerned.

"Wonderful. Though the person you'll want to talk to in order to get into the Sith Academy is a woman known as Yuthura Ban, the headmaster is Uthar Wynn, and though he is loyal to Malak, he is a competent and fair instructor. Learn well at his feet. Then come seek me out in the Tomb of Naga Sadow, and we will continue your training. Pay special attention to Uthar's face. It will be of significance in due time. Each test you undergo will bring you closer and closer to your potential as a Sith," remarked Lord Revan. "You have your instructions. Go forth and act upon them."

"Revan—!"

"Ending transmission."

Mind buzzing with questions, Bastila all the same sighed and began to go through the procedures to land at Dreshdae. She piloted the shuttle through, and the fact that someone had thought to list this shuttle as stolen, she thought, was the reason she was able to land it without issue, unmolested, save with the port authority.

When she exited the shuttle, she stepped onto the ground of Korriban and was at once assaulted with the sheer magnitude of the Dark Side Force energy present on the planet's surface. It nearly made her buckle under the enormity of its weight. She chastised herself for not expecting it, but it made her wonder how anything could live here at all. All the same, she stood before she lost face and continued on to the port authority.

"Go on through," said the Twi'lek there in Galactic Basic.

"Don't I have to pay a docking fee?" asked Bastila.

"It's been paid. You are Bastila Shan, are you not?"

"I am…" said Bastila.

"A Sith in black robes with Mandalorian armour told us to expect you," said the man. "Said his name was Kylo Ren…?"

"Of course he did," sighed Bastila, rushing past and going through into the settlement of Dreshdae, the only town on the planet, though it was largely ancillary, as the only place worth entering on the planet was the Sith Academy—given the lack of arable land on Korriban, this was how they got food and water onto the planet, through Dreshdae's spaceport. "Could you direct me to Yuthura Ban, then?"

The man visibly recoiled. "Um… She should be in the cantina, but don't tell her I sent you! Please, it will be the death of me!"

"Don't worry, I won't tell her," said Bastila, walking away from the man and walking towards the sound of music that she thought for certain would be the cantina. Surely it was the will of the Force that she find it, because the music was indeed coming from the cantina itself. There were Sith trainees abusing aspirants all over the place, probably for fun or to work off their insecurities, but Bastila made no move to stop any of them. It was not her business, and while she never did like taking advantage of people just because, she didn't go out of her way to help those in need either, which gained her some degree of enmity from her more altruistic colleagues, in her earlier days in the Jedi Order, back when she was still a Jedi.

Once she got into the cantina, she looked around, and then realised that she had no idea what Yuthura Ban looked like. While annoying, this wasn't a complete and total setback. She closed her eyes and let the Force guide her towards a Twi'lek woman with pale, almost purplish skin, yellow eyes, and elaborate markings up and down her face.

"Hello… Are you Yuthura Ban?"

"Who wants to know?" asked the Twi'lek in response.

"Bastila Shan," replied Bastila.

"The Knight Victorious? Why don't you tell me why I shouldn't kill you right now?" said Yuthura.

"Because I wish to understand," replied Bastila honestly, "What it means to be Sith."

Yuthura Ban smiled then, and it was not a good smile. "Then tell me, Bastila, and it is a question you must answer honestly in order to enter the Sith Academy. Who told you where to find me?"

"I…" said Bastila, remembering the fearful cry of the Twi'lek man who had begged her not to tell the Sith he told Bastila where to find her. Then she sighed. "It was the Twi'lek at the port authority."

Yuthura Ban raised an eyebrow. "And here I thought you were going to lie."

"That wouldn't have been wise of me, would it?"

"No, it would not have been, at that," replied Yuthura, reaching into her pack and pulling forth an elaborate medallion. "Here. This will allow you into and out of the Sith Academy. Just show it to the guard. I will go with you this time so that the guard knows you didn't just kill an acolyte and take it—though if you ask me, any acolyte who lets themselves be cut down and have their medallion stolen from them is not worthy of being Sith in the first place. Still, Uthar runs the show, not me. More's the pity."

She waggled her eyebrows suggestively. Bastila suddenly became aware that she was to participate in a Sith plot to destroy each other. She knew from her research amongst the Jedi that the Sith often plotted against each other to their downfall, but she never would have expected it to be this…brazen. Still, it made a certain sense, to implant a sleeper agent amongst the newer students who were not under Uthar's sway.

The Twi'lek rose to her feet gracefully and began to walk away, and Bastila followed behind her. They went directly to the gates of the Sith Academy, and Yuthura stopped in front of the guards. "This woman is a new acolyte in the ways of the Dark Side. She is to be given access second only to myself and Master Wynn. Is that understood?"

"Yes, my lady," the guards responded in unison.

"Good," replied Yuthura, walking into the Sith Academy. "Come along, Acolyte Shan."

"Y-yes, my lady," replied Bastila.

"Ooh, my lady," said Yuthura as she turned around to look at Bastila. "I like how that sounds coming from your lips. Make sure to remember your place and I'm sure we'll get along…famously."

Bastila took a step back, and Yuthura merely laughed and continued walking.

The Sith Academy was a massive structure, and it looked as though it went on for ages, with rooms in all directions to accommodate and house an entire civilisation's Dark Side Force users. And in the center, meditating, was a bald man with all the markings of a Sith, save for purplish markings which, like Yuthura, were inscribed onto his flesh.

"Yuthura Ban, you're dismissed," said the man, his eyes snapping open as he stood.

"Yes, Master Wynn," replied Yuthura, bowing at the waist. "I'll be in my quarters when you're done, Bastila."

She then walked out of the room, into the shadows at the far side of the area.

"Now, Bastila Shan, I'm going to have to pull a lot of strings to get you into the higher echelons of acolytes. I expect you to obey," said Uthar Wynn without preamble. "Your career as a Jedi was long and very illustrious. Some of the more ambitious or fervent acolytes are going to try and kill you to ascend in the rankings to gain prestige. It is your job not to allow them to do so. Understood?"

"Yes, Master Wynn," replied Bastila.

"Good. Now, remove the khyber crystal from your lightsaber and hand the rest over to me. When you—and only you, for I will know if anyone else does it for you—manage to turn the crystal red, you may have the weapon returned to you," commanded Uthar. "Do you know the Sith Code?"

She was about to respond in the negatory, but then remembered Lord Revan telling it to her, what seemed like a lifetime ago. "Peace is a lie; there is only passion. Through passion, I gain strength. Through strength, I gain power. Through power, I gain victory. Through victory, our chains are broken. The Force shall set me free."

Uthar looked genuinely shocked. "Impressive. That knowledge alone has gained you some considerable prestige. It seems we may skip the first month of training, then, since you know the Code."

Bastila preened as she was commended for her knowledge. The Jedi would never have expressed such positive reinforcement.

"Report to Yuthura Ban. She will grant you the robes of our order. Your Jedi garb would be an affront to many here, and should you keep it, will cause you to be in great danger. It is for your own safety that we mandate this."

"Yes, Master Wynn," said Bastila. She bowed at the waist and went after Yuthura Ban, for once excited to learn once more.

As it turned out, holding a vibrosword to a merchant's neck was an easy way of negotiating. Ithorians tended to be very fond of living, after all.

"Only I can unlock him! I've got a restraining bolt on his central processor!"

It didn't help his cause that he pissed her off with lines like that one.

The "protocol" droid stood deactivated in the back of the shop, dusty and ill-cared-for despite the ingenuity she could see gleaming in every centimetre of his design. The merging of Sith, Je'daii and Mandalorian design philosophies and components made her certain that this was K… Revan's handiwork, no doubt about it.

"You have no right to gaze upon that droid, let alone profess to own and sell it," said Meetra tersely. "What is the code?"

"I'm not going to tell you!" he said stubbornly.

"You already have," said Meetra before thrusting the vibrosword through his neck and out the back of his spinal column. He gurgled on blood before collapsing to the sandy floor in a heap.

"Now then, let's see what you're about," she said as she walked over to the droid, picking up a few tools from around the droid shop and beginning to work at him.

He was damaged, that much a blind woman could tell. The extent of the damage, however, was horrifying. This Ithorian had done such a hack job in disabling him that the issues were far more extensive than she had feared they might be. Tinkering with the assassination protocols, she upgraded the central neural processor and rerouted auxiliary power, doing as much as she could to bring him to his former glory. She had only heard hearsay about this droid, and seen him in Force visions from her beloved, and she knew how even when Alek abandoned Revan, this droid remained his stalwart companion.

Finally, judging her job to be just about done, she undid the restraining bolt, thanking the Force that the Ithorian had neither the know-how nor the resources to set up even a rudimentary biometric reader, and then activated him.

"Powering up," came the droid's voice, hoarse and sand-clogged as his vocabulator was, and then Meetra stood and walked around him to look upon him.

"Register me as your new master," ordered Meetra.

"Registration: current master. Biometric signature imprinted. Error. Biometric signature matches records of one 'Meetra Surik.' Status: deceased."

"News of my death was greatly exaggerated," she said, spreading her palms out as though to explain.

"Observation: That boorish Ithorian is deceased. Updating master logs. Greeting: Hello, Master."

"Hello, HK-47," replied Meetra. She walked over to the counter and opened up the hold-out armoury, bringing forth a heavy blaster rifle. She tossed it to HK and said, "Catch."

"Announcement: Catching!" said HK-47, snatching the rifle out of the air.

Meetra smiled and kicked open the door. The smell of blood and flesh-stripping sand was almost overpowering, but Meetra didn't seem to notice. HK-47 looked around and said, "Compliment: Impressive carnage, Master."

"It is, isn't it?" she said, complimenting herself. She looked around and saw the amount of people she had butchered wholesale, and was disappointed only that it had taken so long. It would have taken a fraction of the time if she had had her lightsaber. "Regardless, let's be on. I stole a local smuggler's ship, so that should be enough to get us off-planet."

"Excited remark: It is going to be such a pleasure travelling with you, Master."

"I think so, too," replied Meetra.

Moments later, a modified freighter began liftoff from the Anchorage starport, and began shooting into the sky. Anchorage was left behind, the winds howling through empty streets littered with the bodies of the dead and the dying, blood flowing in rivers down the sandy bedrock, too much of it for the sand to absorb or the twin suns to evaporate quickly. When a Tusken Raider party would venture forth from their enclave, they would find only death, and decry the place in their own strange way as being cursed.

When Czerka damage assessment teams came forth some time later, they suspected some sort of crowd-controlling contagion, and as such, relations tensed between them and Darth Malak's Sith Empire, not because they thought the Republic morally incapable of such a feat of savagery and barbarism—far from it, as it was well within the Republic modus operandi to authorise such a thing as a false flag operation—but rather that only the Sith had the resources to create and synthesise such a contagion.

News reached the Republic of this quickly once Czerka made their reports to their executives, and panic quickly spread across the ecumenopoli of the Core Worlds as they came to the conclusion that if such a contagion existed, it would have ever more devastating effects on them and their planets. This lead to an escalation of the war effort against the Sith Empire, the rise of this phantom menace that threatened to destroy the galaxy in a wash of savagery and carnage, and would lead to far more blood being spilt in the days and years and decades to come. A do-or-die resistance strategy was adopted then, as Malak's alleged inhumanity was laid bare, and many millions of Republic citizens answered the call.

Meetra Surik watched this all with a morbid fascination, peering forward into the Force to find all of this in her foresight; Visas was very gifted in the Force and as such, her ability to cut through the mist of the Dark Side was augmented greatly. Turning away from this as she rose to walk to the cockpit, she set a course for Telos IV.

She would regain all that was lost to her. First her lightsaber, and then her beloved.

Far away from Tatooine, in the Tomb of Naga Sadow, Darth Revan was meditating in the chamber of the Star Map. Stocked with the Dark Side to sustain him, as well as food for those who knew to find it, with a plethora of enemies to keep his skills sharp, he rested as a Jedi would, peering into the future through the fog he had become accustomed to.

Suddenly, he felt a ripple in the Force, a disturbance, like hundreds of people had died at once, a domino set in motion down a line of such things, a cascading reaction that would cause billions of untold deaths. Unknown to him, he had seen much the same as what Meetra had seen, and further forwards he peered, but could not, for there was a nexus of possibility extending outward, billions more than he had originally seen.

Alarmed, Revan's eyes snapped open, and his gaze moved to the Dejarik board. Three sides were set up: his, Malak's, and Vitiate's. It was then that Revan moved towards the board and began to program another set, for there seemed to be a fourth player in their little game, an unknown, a wild card in their deadly contest.

Revan very much looked forward to meeting them.