KOTOR 2 - Echo's End

"Once you start down the Dark path, forever will it dominate your destiny."

Luke Skywalker recalled the words of Master Yoda, spoken so many years ago, as Luke held the ancient lightsaber hilt. Luke's search for this item had taken him across the galaxy, away from his family and friends, for far longer than he had anticipated. But at last, he had found it.

Yoda's words had referred to Luke's father, Anakin Skywalker, who at that time had been known to the galaxy as the infamous Darth Vader, perhaps the most feared and hated man in galactic history. As Vader, Anakin had destroyed the Jedi Order and delivered the galaxy to his Sith Master, Darth Sidious, publicly known as Emperor Palpatine. Palpatine had then subjugated the galaxy for over two decades, with Vader as his enforcer, before Luke had confronted them on the second Death Star.

Luke had assumed Yoda meant that a person who fell to the Dark Side of the Force was unrecoverable, forever lost. And perhaps that had been the elderly Jedi Master's intent. But in the last moments of his life, Anakin had rejected his identity as Darth Vader, returned to the Light Side of the Force, and destroyed Emperor Palpatine. From a certain point of view, Luke thought, Yoda had been correct. Anakin's destiny from the moment of his fall until his death had been dominated by the Dark Side. And yet, he had ended his life redeemed. It was therefore not impossible for someone to return to the Light. Anakin had done it.

Which meant that Ben could too.

Now, if what Luke held in his hand was actually what he thought, what he had scoured the galaxy for, it represented another who had fallen to the Dark Side and then returned. Because the target of Luke's long hunt was Darth Revan's Sith lightsaber.

The Jedi Master sat alone, in a high place overlooking the sea. His face was haggard, older than his years. His countenance and demeanor spoke of defeat. He sat in silence as the galaxy's last spark of hope died. Those he cared for most were perishing in a far away place. His friends. His young student. His sister. And with them, all who stood against the oppressing shadow threatening to cover the galaxy. He had the power to save them, yet he did not. Fire. Despair. Darkness.

Revan's unseeing eyes flew open, and for a moment, she was surprised to see nothing. Then as sleep left her and she fully awoke, recollection flooded in. She was on Coruscant, in the apartment she shared with her husband. And she had not seen anything with her own eyes in almost half a century.

"Are you okay?" came Carth's voice next to her. Though Revan could not see Carth's face, the concern in his voice was evident.

"Bad dream," Revan said. "What time is it?"

"Morning," Carth said. "I've been lying here awake for a little while. Are you sure you're okay? You screamed."

"I had ... I'm sure it was just a dream," Revan said, "but it was disturbing. I'm okay, though, really. Help me up?"

"Sure," Carth said. He rose and walked around the bed to where Revan's sophisticated mobility scooter sat. Pulling back the bedcovers, he gently turned her and, with a small grunt, lifted her onto it. He often wondered how much longer he'd be able to assist her, how much longer they'd be able to live on their own. Carth had always been physically fit, and still maintained a rigorous exercise program. But no one was immune to age, and as he neared ninety years old, Carth could feel himself declining.

"Balcony," Revan said. The scooter complied, wheeling Revan to an exterior door, which opened automatically, allowing Revan to pass through. The scooter stopped facing the sunrise, the cool breeze gently blowing Revan's thinning gray hair, the warm sun a welcoming touch on her face.

Carth followed Revan onto the small balcony, and looked across the city, admiring the way it glistened in the first light of the new day. Their apartment was many stories above what was generally called ground level, and the view was spectacular. The city, which engulfed the entire planet, was built in so many layers that Carth wasn't sure how far down actual ground might be. Coruscant must have a true surface somewhere, but Carth had never seen it.

He glanced at Revan, and felt a pang of regret. This woman had once been both the greatest Jedi and the most feared Sith of the age. Together, they had defeated Darth Malak, once Revan's Sith apprentice before Revan had returned to the Light Side of the Force. And along the way, they had fallen in love. Afterward, Revan had remembered parts of her past, things about the True Sith, an ancient empire ruled by an almost-forgotten species, who were plotting an overthrow of the Republic. Revan had, together with Carth and other allies including Jedi Grand Master Meetra Surik, planned and executed an attack on the True Sith. They had been victorious, and the Republic's security was ensured. But price had been high. The final battle had cost Revan both her legs, one of her arms, and her sight.

Afterward, Revan had pleaded with Carth to leave her, to find someone else, insistent that he could never have a normal life with her. Carth had already lost one wife in the destruction of Telos, Revan argued, and did not deserve to be bound to another who would never again be whole. Carth had refused, and Revan had finally relented. The ensuing years had proved Revan wrong. While Revan's physical condition had undeniable effects on their life together, their marriage had nonetheless been happy and fulfilling. And their son's rise to Supreme Chancellor of the Republic had further vindicated Carth's determination.

Now, in their twilight years, they still found joy in small moments like a warm sunrise. Their part in galactic events was over. Because, Revan thought, it had just been a dream.

Hadn't it?

Luke Skywalker sat in his hut on Ahch-To, satisfied with his progress. He was now confident that the artifact he had recovered was indeed Darth Revan's Sith Lightsaber. He had disassembled the ancient hilt, pausing from time to time to admire the quality of the construction. Had the Sith of four thousand years ago constructed their own lightsabers? Luke wasn't sure, but if so, and if this one's construction said anything about its maker, then at least some of the legends Luke had uncovered about Revan might be true.

Revan was a mysterious figure in galactic history, having lived at a time when the Jedi Order almost went extinct, and for which there were therefore few reliable historical records. From what Luke had been able to piece together, much of the blame for the Order's near-death experience lay squarely at Revan's feet. But so did its survival. After almost destroying not only the Jedi, but the Republic itself, Darth Revan had rejected the Dark Side, embraced the Light, and defeated not only the Sith Order she had created, but also the True Sith, a shadowy empire from the outer edges of the galaxy who had been planning an assault on the Republic.

Luke briefly wondered what it would have been like if Revan had failed and the True Sith had actually invaded. It would have made the sacrifice of Revan and her companions hollow. It might have led to an interminable stalemate, stretching on and on, spawning increasingly unlikely conflicts that somehow simultaneously seemed to threaten the fabric of the galaxy, and also never actually changed anything. Heros and villains might have risen and fallen, over and over, earned various accolades, accumulated strongholds full of spoils, but never actually made any real difference, just multiple players in a massively-

Luke's gaze fell again to the lightsaber and he refocused his thoughts on it. This was no time for idle speculation, and he should not let his thoughts drift. The lightsaber hilt, salvaged from near the ruined planet of Malachor V, had suffered four millenia in the vacuum of space. And that was after surviving whatever calamity had destroyed the planet. A lesser weapon would not have endured. But Revan had been a cunning craftsperson, every detail of the lightsaber perfectly made and assembled. Luke could not claim that his own blade had been of equal quality, nor any he had seen.

The inner core of the weapon now hung suspended in Luke's hut, the red crystal exposed. Luke had been painstakingly careful not to touch the crystal as he had disassembled the lightsaber. A Jedi's lightsaber crystal had its own voice in the Force, was as close to a living thing as an inanimate object could be. Luke hadn't been sure if that were true of a Sith's lightsaber crystal, especially a Sith of Revan's era. But now he had no doubts. While many Jedi could hear the song of their own lightsaber crystal, and the more attuned Jedi could hear even the crystals of others, no special talent was needed to hear Revan's lightsaber crystal. It had a lot to say. Would one of the voices echoing from it help him unlock the secret of Revan's redemption?

Would it help Luke save Ben?

The Jedi Master hunched over a table, working feverishly on some device. On the workbench beside him sat a red crystal. The Jedi Master reached for it, grasped it, held it tightly for a moment. He closed his eyes and leaned back, as if letting the crystal's voice wash over him. Then, with renewed focus, he returned to his work, placing the crystal into its designated spot in the device. Finally complete, he stood, the device in his hand. A lightsaber. With grim purpose, he activated it. The red blade sprang to life, reflecting off his eyes, bathing the hut's interior with a menacing glow.

"Soon," he said.

Revan awoke to strong hands shaking her. Disoriented and frightened, she thrust outward with the Force and heard the sound of a body hitting the floor with a grunt. Carth.

"Carth?" Revan called, reaching out in the Force. She sensed Carth across the room. Alive. At least she hadn't killed her husband, as she had killed so many other people in her distant past.

"Wow," Carth said, slowly standing to his feet and rubbing his head. "You still pack a punch."

"Are you okay?" Revan said. "I'm sorry. What happened?"

"I'll have a few bruises, but I'm fine. You were listening to the news," Carth said. "Then you closed your eyes and I thought you were napping. But then you started trembling. I came over but you started shouting and thrashing about. I was trying to wake you, when ... well ... it seems you can still take care of yourself."

"I had another dream," Revan said. "If it was a dream."

"Maybe we should get you to a doctor," Carth said.

"No," Revan said firmly. "This isn't medical. It's ... the dreams are about a Jedi Master."

"Someone from your past?" Carth asked. "From the Mandalorian Wars? Or even before, from your training?"

"I don't think so," Revan said. "At least, no one I remember. The details are fuzzy, and already fading. But I didn't recognize the place he's in. I think he's in trouble, though. Maybe we all are. I fell to the Dark Side once. I know what that looks like for someone to fall."

Luke Skywalker sat in his hut, staring at Revan's lightsaber crystal.

It was a beautiful day on Ahch-To. The sun was bright overhead, but a breeze off the ocean kept its heat at bay. Waves lapped against the shore. Vegetation was in full bloom, the brilliant greens contrasting with the rugged browns and grays of rock outcroppings. Even at his lowest, Luke had still found some small solace in days like this, when the Force seemed to sing with nature's resplendent joy.

Today, he saw none of it.

He had hoped Revan's crystal might have a word of advice for him, maybe even a phrase. A secret, perhaps, however enigmatic. He had not expected a dissertation. Over the past months, the crystal had gushed forth a fountain of forbidden knowledge, a philosophy that Luke recognized as neither Jedi nor Sith, a new way of understanding the Force, and its relationship with the galaxy.

At first Luke had resisted its teachings, letting them flow past him but not absorbing him, as he hunted for a clue in Revan's past for how to save Ben. But as the days turned to weeks, Luke began to realize that the teaching explained his experience in ways he had never considered. And still, the crystal continued speaking:

What do you wish to hear? That I once believed in the code of the Jedi? That I felt the call of the Sith, that perhaps, once, I held the galaxy by its throat? That for every good work I did, I brought equal harm upon the galaxy? That perhaps, what the greatest of the Sith Lords knew of evil, they learned from me!? What would it matter now? There is only so much comfort in knowing such things, and it is not who I am now.

A culture's teachings, and most importantly, the nature of its people, achieve definition in conflict. They find themselves, or find themselves lacking.

If you are to truly understand, then you will need the contrast, not adherence to a single idea.

To believe in an ideal, is to be willing to betray it. It is something no Sith or Jedi has ever truly learned.

Be careful of charity and kindness, lest you do more harm with open hands then a clenched fist.

Plans are fragile things, and life often dashes expectations to the ground

If you seek to aid everyone that suffers in the galaxy, you will only weaken yourself... and weaken them. It is the internal struggles, when fought and won on their own, that yield the strongest rewards.

I cannot force you to listen to reason, only hope that you will grow past these infantile delusions of right and wrong.

Perhaps you were expecting some surprise, for me to reveal a secret that had eluded you, something that would change your perspective of events, shatter you to your core. There is no great revelation, no great secret. There is only you.

As the crystal continued, Luke realized how his efforts at saving the galaxy had harmed it. How he had acted as the Force's pawn, and in so doing had robbed the galaxy of something it should have earned. He had left those he cared for weaker, not stronger. He should have seen that in the Empire's resurgance after he had destroyed the first Death Star, but he had not. He again should have seen it after the second Death Star's destruction, and the subsequent rise of the First Order. But he had been blind. He had tried to cloister Ben away in a monastery, instead of letting him face challenges and become stronger. And now Ben was lost.

He, Luke Skywalker, Jedi Master, Legend. He was the problem. But maybe not the only one. The Force might share some of the blame.

Carth stolled down a path through one of Coruscant's many parks, enjoying the light exercise, smiling and nodding at passersby, some of whom he recognized from previous strolls. Revan followed close behind, her scooter automatically maintaining a comfortable spacing.

Revan enjoyed these outings. Through the Force, she felt each person in the park, sensing their joys, struggles, hopes, and fears. She carefully avoided violating anyone's mind by reaching into their thoughts, but she allowed their emotions to resonate within her, their life shining as clearly as if she were seeing them with her own eyes.

Much of Revan's early years had been spent fighting for one goal or another, sometimes to the galaxy's benefit, other times to its detriment. But either way, she had pushed through by sheer willpower. Finally, though, she had learned to simply feel, to let the Force speak to her, to sense the connections it made between all living things as it bound the galaxy together with its unique, umatchable light. After her many mistakes, she had finally found some measure of peace.

"After we're done here," Carth said to Revan, "what would you think about-"

The Jedi Master stood at the top of a long set of stone stairs. Far below him, the sea raged and above him storm clouds gathered. He paid no attention to this. His gaze was fixed on the black-robed figure ascending the stairs.

The Jedi Master's face was heavy with regret. He had hoped this meeting would never occur, at least not in this way. But his face also showed fierce determination. Out of options, he would do what he must.

The figure finally reached the top of the stairs and cast aside its robe, revealing a young man with a muscular, athletic build and a scar across his face. A lightsaber hung at his belt. Despite the long ascent, the man was not even slightly winded. He walked purposefully across the short distance to the Jedi Master and stopped several feet from him, his posture aggressive.

"I was surprised to receive your summons," the young man said. "I have not sensed you in some time. I thought you had died."

"Soon enough, I will," the Jedi Master said. "But I have one last thing to do first."

"The Force has abandoned you, old man."

"The Force? Why would I care? I no longer serve its will. I have claimed my own destiny. You think you wield the Force, but it uses you, like it uses us all."

"That's not what you taught in your academy. You told me it was beautiful. Before you tried to kill me."

These words hit the Jedi Master like a physical blow, but he shrugged them off and continued. "Once I thought that. But now it is abhorrent to me. I hate it because it would control everyone to achieve some measure of balance. You think I created you? No, the Force created you."

"You did nothing for me!" the young man spat, his fury now showing. "Only betrayal! I made myself! I claimed the galaxy with my own power!"

"I failed you, Ben. I'm sorry."

"I'm sure you are. The Resistance is long dead. The war is over. And when I kill you, I'll have killed the last Jedi."

"Amazing," the Jedi Master said. "Every word of what you just said was wrong. The Resistance is alive, in me. But not the resistance you think. The war, the real war, never stopped. But it ends today. And you will not kill me. I will do that myself, when I win."

"You talk gibberish."

"No, I finally have clarity. This was all my fault. But not because of what happened in your hut, all those years ago. I failed you, and the galaxy, long before that. I did not understand that by lifting myself up, by trying to raise a new generation of Jedi to serve the Light, I was demanding that the Force create the Darkness that has taken you, has taken everyone."

The young man scoffed. "You know nothing. You are cut off from the Force, deafened."

"At last, I hear," the Jedi Master replied.

"You are broken."

"I am whole."

"You are blinded."

"At last, I see."

"I tire of your nonsense," the young man said. "Why did you call me?" To save me? Because I have no desire to be saved from anything."

"No," the Jedi Master said, his firm voice heavy with both resignation and grief. "I called you here to kill you, and to end the Force's hold on the galaxy."

The Jedi Master ignited the lightsaber in his hand. The young man could not hide his surprise that it burned a pure brilliant red. But that did not compare to his shock as the Jedi Master opened himself to the Force, pulling it back into himself in an almost audible rush. The swirling power was nearly visible, and the very air seemed to hum with energy. The young man started to speak, but whatever he might have said was lost as the Jedi Master attacked. The young main ignited his own crackling scarlet blade and responded in kind.

For a few moments, the two exchanged blows, the Jedi Master seeming to almost hope that the young man would be more than his equal and prevent him from accomplishing his intended task. But he was not. The Jedi Master was the superior combatant. A few more swift strokes, and the Jedi Master plunged his lightsaber into the young man's chest.

Rather than looking into the young man's eyes, the Jedi Master instead focused his attention on the lightsaber itself. With a almost inhuman scream, he poured into it all the energy in his body and mind, together with his anger, his regret, and all the pain of killing this young man who clearly meant so much to him. As he had once severed his own connection to the Force, now he channeled these emotions as fuel for a dark power in the lightsaber, using that power as a weapon to attack the Force's very connection to the galaxy. A shroud of darkness encircled him as the blade, still embedded in the young man's chest, flared into a crimson supernova. And then it exploded, a blast that threw the Jedi Master backward and expanded far, far beyond the ocean planet, to the utmost edges of the galaxy.

"-can't explain it. We need to move her to a hospital."

The voice was unfamiliar to Revan. Where was she? What was happening?

"I can carry her if I need to." Revan recognized this voice. Carth. Revan realized she was uncomfortable, because she was lying on the ground. A small hubbub of murmuring voices surrounded her.

"No, I'll call a transport-"

"I'm okay," Revan said.

"She's awake," Carth said.

"Just lie still," came the unfamiliar voice. "I'm a doctor. Do you know where you are?"

For a moment, Revan did not. Then she remembered. "The park. I'm in the park."

"Can you tell me your name?"

Revan paused, not because she didn't know, but because people's reaction to the answer was unpredictable. She'd once considered taking a psuedonym, but decided that hiding behind a false name would be a disservice to the many people who had died under her command. And the many she had killed.

"I'm Revan."

A pause. More murmurs from what Revan presumed was a small crowd watching to see what was happening to the old woman in the park.

"That's correct," Carth said. From his tone, Revan could tell this was directed to the doctor and not to her.

"Okay," said the doctor, maintaining his professional tone. "We're going to take you to a hospital for a full examination."

"I don't need a hospital," Revan said. "I need Meetra."

"We really should have you checked out," Carth said. "Just as a precaution."

"Meetra. Now." The authority of command in Revan's voice was powerful and unmistakable. She immediately regretted speaking to Carth in that tone. How subtle were old habits, patterns of behavior that she'd thought long gone. She had thought this part of her was in the past, but here it was again, as dangerous as ever.

"Please," Revan added, more softly.

Carth sighed. "Her situation is unique," he said to the doctor. "I respect your skills and knowledge, but she would be better served by a Jedi healer."

"Very well," said the doctor, relieved to no longer be responsible for something that had quickly become more complicated than expected. Medical emergencies in geriatric patients where within his wheelhouse. Jedi-turned-Sith-turned-Jedi were not.

Waves crashed against the base of the Ahch-To cliff, sending salt spray dozens of meters into the air. It washed over Luke as he stood at the cliff's edge, but he took no notice. He had recovered the lightsaber hilt - and more importantly the crystal inside - in hopes of understanding how Revan had returned to the Light, so that he could use that lesson to help Ben. Ben, his nephew. Ben, who had turned to the Dark Side. Ben, lost, Luke now understood, because of the failure of the Jedi Order and, more importantly, his own failure.

He had planned to spend some time studying the crystal and then, regardless of the outcome, rejoin his family and friends: Leia, Han, Chewbacca, and the others. But he now realized that he would do them no good. In fact, his presence would almost certainly cause them to fall, to fail. Much better that he remain apart. Once he had been rash, acting without consideration, not realizing the ripples he was causing, the imbalance he was creating, a tilt in the galaxy which the Force could not tolerate.

The echoes.

Luke had loved the Force. The brilliance of its Light had called to him. He remembered the words Obi-Wan had said to him after the first time Luke had intentionally connected to the Force: "you have taken your first step into a larger world." And it had been. For a time, Luke had thought that Darkness could be vanquished, that the Dark Side was a perversion of the Force, a result of evil beings like Palpatine imposing their will on the Force, twisting it into a mockery of itself. He had understood balance to be the natural state of the galaxy, of the Force itself. Yes, there was life and death, but in a self-reinforcing cycle, a natural rhythm that gave each new creature its moment to shine, then surrender the stage to its successors. This was not a fearsome form of darkness, but a comfort, the opposite side of life's coin, merely another chapter in existence. The Force itself, if indeed it had a will, desired this harmony and would only ever nudge the galaxy back toward this sustainable balance.

He had been a fool.

What Luke had failed to understand, he now realized, was that the Darkness must also be balanced with the Light. And that when that balance was attacked, the Force's response would be overwhelming. In his efforts to grow his attunement to the Light Side of the Force, and to share that knowledge with his students, Luke had created an imbalance that the Force could not abide. So it had struck him down, destroyed his academy, and taken his nephew. Luke had goaded the Force, and it had responded by killing Ben and raising up Kylo Ren from the ashes. His shine had caused Ben's shadow.

If only he had been wiser, had seen the inevitable consequences of his actions before it was too late. The echoes he was causing. But he had not, and he only understood now because of the crystal, which had taught him so much. Now, he would correct his error. No longer would he be the problem, the imbalance. If the Force was obligated to raise the Darkness to counter him, then he would simply step aside.

He would later wish that he had taken a last moment to savor the life around him, the eternal hum, the intricate tapestry woven from every living creature, from the simplest microbe to the most complex sentient. But he did not. Instead, he summoned the pain of all his failures, all the lives lost because of him, all the anguish his hubris had caused, and focused it into a burning ball, a consuming flame, and used it to burn away his own connection to the Force.

"This is a welcome surprise," Meetra Surik said. "You haven't visited in many years."

Revan had been waiting for several minutes in a small private garden reserved for Meetra's personal use. Being the Head of the Jedi Order had its benefits. Carth had waited in the outer courtyard, to give Revan and Meetra space to talk. For all Carth's years with Revan, the Jedi aspect of her life was something he would never fully understand. Meetra, having been summoned by one of her staff, had just entered the garden.

"Rebuilding of the Order goes well?" Revan said. It was more statement than question. Revan could feel the Light Side radiating throughout the Jedi Temple, amplified by the Masters and Padawans walking its corridors and training in its rooms. While the Order was still miniscule in number compared to before the Mandalorian Wars, it was pure. And growing.

"It does," Meetra said. "Ironic, isn't it? One who still can't feel the Force, at least in the traditional way, has found a place as the Order's leader. I'm fortunate to have excellent help."

"Mical, Atton, and Mira are still here?" Revan asked.

"They are," Meetra said. "And you know they'd be happy to see you any time."

"You know that's ... complicated for me," Revan said.

Meetra took a deep breath. The senior members of her High Council had all been affected by Revan's past. Mira's adoptive Mandalorian family had died in the final battle of the Mandalorian Wars, when Revan had lured the Mandalorians into a trap. Meetra herself, serving as Revan's most trusted general, had given the order to active the Mass Shadow Generator, the superweapon that had destroyed the Mandalorian fleet. Atton had trained as a Jedi-killer as part of Revan's Sith army. Mical had struggled to maintain Jedi history in the aftermath of the Jedi Civil War, when Revan's Sith had attacked the Republic. All three High Council members had fought with Meetra against the Sith Triumverate which had arisen in the power vacuum after Revan's return to the Light, defeat of her former apprentice Darth Malak, and subsequent departure from known space to reconnoiter the True Sith.

"We've all been through so much, but that's in the past," Meetra said.

"I hope so," Revan said. "This isn't just a social call. I need your help."

"Tell me," Meetra said. And Revan did, describing as much of each vision as she could recall. She could remember few of the words the Jedi Master or the younger man had spoken to each other, but could recall many of the themes and images.

"I don't know who or where he is," Revan finally concluded. "But I believe I'm seeing the future, things that haven't happened yet. I have to help him, Meetra. The pain I witnessed, the consequences for the entire galaxy - I have to help. But I don't know how. I thought maybe, with your ability at connections, there might be some way to reach him."

Meetra thought for a moment. "I wouldn't know how," she finally said. "I connect strongly to those around me, yes. And even more strongly to those I'm close to. But to connect with someone I've never met, someone far away, someone who might not even exist yet ... Revan, I just don't think it is possible."

"We've done the impossible together before," Revan said. "Don't give up so easily."

"Very well," Meetra said. "Let me mediate on this, and talk with Mical. We'll call on you in a few days."

Revan nodded, and turned her scooter towards the garden's exit, but Meetra stopped her. "All these years," Meetra said, "I never asked. But I'm old, and time is growing shorter, so I'll ask now. Why did you not use the Force to see?"

"Some paths that might be open to others are closed to me," Revan said, her voice heavy with resignation.

"But you know you could have," Meetra said. "Kreia did, and you are far more powerful than she was. Even she knew that."

"Yes, I could have," Revan said. "I could have compelled the Force to grant me a form of sight. But Meetra, I would have had to make the Force do that."

"I don't think I understand what you mean," Meetra said. "The Force flows through us, and we direct its flow, as Jedi always have. How would this have been different?"

"Surely you have taught your students how subtle the Dark Side is. How easily one finds oneself on its path, without even realizing it."

Meetra nodded and then, remembering that Revan could not see her, said "Of course."

"Then knowing who I am, would you have me command the Force?" Revan asked, her voice now taking on an edge that Meetra had not heard for half a lifetime. "Do you think my broken body an obstacle to my full exercise of every power that was once at my command?"

As she spoke, Meetra perceived a menacing glow about Revan, a dark halo, a long-rejected shadow. Revan was no more an old woman in an elaborate wheelchair. She was the ruler of the known galaxy, the conquering, irresitable tide, an untapped ocean of power.

"We are luminescent beings," Revan said, her voice rising, clear and strong. "My injuries are irrelevant. Have you not asked yourself why I drive about in this ridiculous vehicle? Have you not questioned why I do not construct legs for myself so that I may again stand on my own feet, steady and strong? You know my technical skills are more than adequate for such a simple task. Do you not ask why my one remaining hand does not grip my lightsaber, red and glowing? Would you face Darth Revan again?"

At this last, Revan's voice carried a tone that Meetra had not heard since the Mandalorian Wars. Meetra's hand dropped unconsciously to the lightsaber at her belt, even though she knew that if this blind, one-limbed old woman chose to attack with the undiminished power of her mind and spirit, Meetra's weapon would be as useless as a child's toy.

"That door must remain closed," Revan said quietly. "I would not be that person again." The moment had passed. She was once again simply a disabled octogenerian.

"I-" Meetra started to speak, but found she had no idea what to say. Meetra watched in silence as Revan slowly wheeled out the door.

Two days later, Revan and Carth were finishing lunch in their apartment when the door buzzed. Carth opened it, and welcomed in Meetra and Mical. They exchanged greetings, then gathered in the small main room.

"Meetra has explained the situation to me," Mical said, "but I would like to confirm my understanding of a few things."

"Very well," Revan said.

"I understand that the visions concern a Jedi Master, perhaps the last remaining Jedi, who started a training academy. The young man in the vision was one of his students, who fell to the Dark Side. The Jedi Master subsequently lost hope, separated himself from galactic events, and constructed a red lightsaber, with which he killed his former student. Is this correct?"

"Yes, to the best of my recollection," Revan replied. "Despite old rumors to the contrary, my memory is normally excellent. However, I find it difficult to recall exact details of the visions."

"Do I also understand correctly that there was mention of a war, and that the younger man seemed aligned with the victorious side, while the Jedi Master was, at least at some point in his past, aligned with an opposition group?"

"That is impression that I have," Revan said.

"Then I concur with Revan's assessment. These visions seem to represent future events. They do not align with any past events in the Order's Archives. Any current war of significant magnitude would not have escaped the Republic's attention. Of course, many things that occur in the Outer Regions and Wild Space are beyond the Republic's knowledge. And we are all aware that the Jedi are not the only Force-sensitives in the galaxy. Yet we know of no other group that identifies as 'Jedi'. All these things lead me to agree with Revan. These are visions of a possible future."

"A possible future?" asked Carth. "You mean, the things Revan saw won't necessarily happen?"

"The future is always in motion," answered Mical. "The most attuned of the old Jedi Masters sometimes sought visions of the future to better guide the Order. But such visions, both then and now, must be interpreted with great wisdom. Those visions we have records of often represent the most extreme or dramatic possibilities, with actual events unfolding in a more mundane way."

"And was that because those old Masters acted upon the visions and guided which future unfolded, avoiding the worst outcomes?" Revan interjected.

"An insightful observation," Mical said. "And the answer is simply, there is no way to know. One's actions affect the future in unpredictable ways. Just taking two examples involving people in this room, when Bastila's strike force attacked Revan's flagship, who could have predicted that as an essential step in the unlikely chain of events that led to a redeemed Revan defeating Malak? Or when Meetra was cut off from the Force at Malachor V, who could have predicted that would enable her to defeat Darth Nihilus? Even given Revan's desire to aid this future Jedi Master, none of us can say with certainty what action would help or hinder."

"I have a feeling you have a suggestion," Revan said, "and that I'm not going to like it."

"You are correct on the former, and probably the latter," Mical said. "I suggest that the mostly likely way to help the Jedi Master is to record these events in the Jedi Archives. I also suggest redoubling on teachings within the new Jedi Order that might help people avoid the unfortunate path that the Jedi Master seems to have taken. These actions are in line with Jedi teachings, and also have the greatest chance of success, with essentially no risk to the current Order."

Revan could only approximate Mical's position, but did her best to stare him down with her sightless eyes. "So you're saying we do ... nothing, really? That we keep teaching what you're already teaching? That we put a note in a computer somewhere, which by the way I assume you've already done, and HOPE the Jedi Master sees it and understands it applies to him?"

"You are correct that I have already added entries to the Archives. I will, however, update them with the additional confirmations you have supplied today. And in the absence of any clear and concrete path to follow, trusting the Jedi teachings, and doing everything we can to ensure that they are propogated to future generations, is our best course of action."

"If I had followed advice like that," Revan growled, "you'd be speaking Mandalorian right now. Tell me this. If you adding an encyclopedia entry was enough, do you think the Force would really have shown me all this? I've never been given to random visions. The Force showed this to me for a reason. This is important, and personal, and I'm not going to be satisfied with a historian treating it as a footnote."

"Tell me more about that," Meetra said, anxious to divert Revan's growing anger from Mical. "What makes this feel personal?"

"I don't know how to explain it," Revan said, "except that it felt like the vision wasn't something being shown to me, as much as it was something reaching for me. Not just reaching out generally, but reaching specifically towards me."

"That may actually be possible," Mical interjected. "From our perspective, this future does not yet exist. We therefore cannot affect it directly, or connect to it in any way. But from this future's perspective, the past is fixed. Something in that future could, therefore, conceivably reach backward to connect to us."

"Wouldn't that mean that future actually existed?" Revan said. "That we could likewise connect to it?"

"I don't think so," Mical said. "I realize it seems a logical contradiction, but I find it not impossible that multiple potential futures could all echo backward to one fixed past. Only one of those futures, of course, will ever actually exist. Which raises the question of how something that doesn't exist can affect something that does. But this is exactly what makes divining the future so challenging. The possibilities are almost limitless, and an attuned Jedi can sense all of them, or at least those which echo backward."

"And all that still leaves you believing the only thing to do is to write something down in your books?" Revan said.

"I see no other reasonable alternative," Mical said. "We must trust the will of the Force. And we must trust the wisdom of the-"

Mical stopped, as Revan began to tremble. Her eyes rolled back in her head, and she began breathing erratically. She then began shaking violently, and fell from her mobility scooter to the floor. Carth and Mical both stepped forward to help her, but Meetra stopped them.

"No, let me. I can try to join her." Meetra gently moved Revan's still shaking body into a more comfortable position, then knelt beside her, placing her hand on Revan's forehead, reaching out through the strong connection that still existed between herself and Revan, forged so many years ago during their battles together in the Mandalorian Wars and reinforced through later struggles together.

The Jedi Master lay on the Ahch-To cliff, stunned by the impact of the explosion he had unleashed. It was hard to breathe, and he realized it was not just because of the physical impact he'd endured, but because the very life was being pulled out of him as the echo he had released disconnected the galaxy from the Force.

He sensed the edge of the echo, expanding far faster than the most swift starship. As it passed planet after planet, Force-sensitives on that planet dropped dead, their lifelines to the energy field that sustained all living things abruptly severed. And hope died with them.

The crystal had shown a fresh, new galaxy freed from the destructive effects of the Force's imposition of balance. But instead, the Light was dying, and without it the Darkness would rise unopposed. The Jedi Master had been deceived, used, his own doubts and pain exploited by crafty manipulation. From a certain point of view, he had been correct. He was the problem. Not because he had embraced the Force, but because he had not trusted it, had turned from it, had let his personal anguish overwhelm his trust in something greater than himself. He had been fooled, and the galaxy would suffer the consequences.

The Jedi Master panted heavily, feeling the last of his life beginning to fade. Just before the darkness overtook him, he heard an elderly woman's voice, triumphant: "At last, the echo is freed."

Meetra fell backwards into a sitting position, exhausted and pale. She realized she'd been sweating profusely.

"It's over," she said to Carth and Mical, who had been looking on with concern, unsure if they should continue waiting or intervene. "Give her a few minutes. She'll come around."

True to Meetra's word, a few minutes later Revan returned to consciousness.

"It happened again," Revan said weakly. "I saw-"

"I know," Meetra said. "I saw it too."

"So," Revan said, "you understand."

"I understand why you care so much," Meetra said. "And I agree. But I also understand this is dangerous for you. You've been the messenger. You've made us aware. Let your part be done. Let us deal with this now.

"That's not good enough," Revan said. "I have to do something."

"You have," Meetra said. "You've made us all believe. Just like you always have. We're on your side. But now, renew your meditations. Center yourself. Break this connection. We'll take care of the rest."

"I agree," Mical said. "For Revan's own safety."

"IT ISN'T ABOUT ME!" Revan shouted. "None of you have ever understood this! You act like I'm some kind of museum artifact to protect. But it was NEVER about me, even when I was a Sith! It has ALWAYS been about doing what needed to be done, my own safety be damned! This is about helping the Jedi Master! I don't care what happens to me!"

"I care," Carth said.

At this, Revan softened. "I know you do."

"I know what you sacrificed to take care of all of us," Meetra said. "This time, let us take care of you."

"I'll see that she does," Carth said. "For now, though, she needs to rest. Please. I'm going to get her into bed. Check on us in a day or two."

Meetra and Mical made their goodbyes and exited the apartment. But as Mical started down the hallway, Meetra stopped him.

"Mical, in the vision, I heard an old woman's voice ... it was her."

"It couldn't be. You ended her life yourself."

"I know what I heard. What does this mean?"

"I don't know."

They continued down the hallway in uneasy silence.

"You know I can't let this go," Revan said to Carth. Meetra and Mical had just left. "I don't need any rest, and I'm not going to bed!"

"I know," Carth said. "Why do you think I got rid of them?"

Revan smiled, then her expression became concerned. "But how? I have to help the Jedi Master. I have to stop the death of the galaxy. But for all that young man's lack of ambition, he really is very intelligent. If he says it's impossible, he's probably right."

Carth started to speak, then stopped himself.

"What?" Revan said. "I want to hear it, whatever it is."

"No, sorry, it was my mistake," Carth said. "I must have been confused for all these years."

"What?" Revan asked again, more intensely.

"You said 'impossible'," Carth said, grinning, "but I thought I married Revan."

Revan chuckled. "I love you. Thank you. So I'm going to do the impossible-"

"Again," Carth interjected.

"Again," Revan repeated. "But I still don't know where to start. Do you have any advice?"

"I'm no Jedi," Carth said, "but I know you. You're at your best when you're in command. These visions are something that has been happening to you. Is there any way for you to take control over them?"

"I'm not sure what that says about our marriage," Revan said playfully, "but point taken. I could try to initiate a vision myself."

"How can I help?" Carth asked.

"I can't exactly sit in the normal meditative posture," Revan said. "Hold me in front of you? Let me lean back on you? That's as close as I can get."

Carth repositioned Revan as requested. "Now what?"

"Just hold me," Revan said. "And be patient, no matter what happens."

"Okay," Carth said.

Revan's breathing slowed, her muscles relaxed, and she slipped into a trance. At first, there was nothing. No light. No sound. Revan reached out for the Jedi Master with her senses, her spirit, her feelings. But there was only emptiness. Then, as Revan quieted her mind, she heard a small, voice. It was familar, from the past, but Revan couldn't identify it. The voice was uncaring, harsh, purposeful, but powerful. Though barely at the edge of hearing, it had an agenda of its own. It spoke not in words, but in its own unique presence, a distinctive vibration in the Force. Revan reached back into her history, trying to identify it. The only image that would come was Bastila, on Revan's flagship, standing before Revan, ready to join in a battle that she could not hope to win. And Revan's brilliant red lightsaber clasped firmly in Revan's strong hand as she stood on her two feet on her bridge, eager to strike down this upstart Padawan who had invaded her sanctum.

As Revan focused on the image, she became aware of a glowing red thread dangling in her sight, weaving, stretching, not into another space, but into another time. Revan sensed that the thread would lead her to the voice. Revan began to follow it, then pulled back. There was something she needed to do first.

Revan stirred in Carth's arms.

"I can find him," Revan said. "I found the thread."

"I never doubted you," Carth said.

"I'm going to do something now," Revan said. "Something I was unwilling to do before. I was afraid it would open doors better left closed, but we're past the point of worrying about that."

Carth looked at her curiously, but she simply smiled and closed her unseeing eyes, her face a mask of intense concentration. And then she opened her eyes and looked at Carth. Really looked at him.

"Revan, did you just-" Carth began.

"I had to see you, one last time," Revan said, her voice thick with emotion.

"Sorry," Carth said, his eyes glistening with tears. "I got old."

"You look incredible," Revan said. "Whatever you do, don't go get a mirror. I'd rather not know what I look like by now."

Carth chuckled. "I see you every day, and you've never been more beautiful."

Revan smiled, then grew serious. "You understand how dangerous what I'm about to do is, don't you?"

Carth nodded. "When all this started, I wished I could have stopped it. Stopped you. But I've never been under false impressions about who you are. You'd have never been satisfied with anything less than seeing this all the way through."

"Thank you," Revan said. "Thank you for accepting me as my full self, for knowing who I truly was and loving me anyway. I have so many reasons to love you, but none greater than that."

"I couldn't have asked for anything more," Carth said.

Revan stared deeply into Carth's eyes for one last moment, their locked gaze sharing more than further words could have. Then she closed her eyes, listening for the voice, reaching for the thread.

Revan was on her flagship, and it was exploding all around her. She was gone, carried away by Bastila. Her broken body would be healed by the Jedi, and her broken mind would return. She would reclaim her place in the Light, defeat Malak, and eventually Vitiate. But she was also still here, watching, as her flagship suffered its final death throes.

Fragments of the enormous starship floated through space, mingled with bodies of the crew. But Revan's attention was focused on her Sith lightsaber. It was charred, the metal pitted, but somehow it remained intact, a testimony to Revan's craftmanship.

The voice. The lightsaber. It was Revan's Sith lightsaber crystal, speaking to her, calling from somewhere in the future. The lightsaber in front of Revan, the one floating in space, was silent. But from somewhere ... ahead? beyond? Revan wasn't even sure what the right word was, but she was certain it was her old lightsaber calling. But how, and why?

As Revan focused on the voice, she again saw the thread, extending from the lightsaber in front of her to somewhere unseen. Revan reached forward, grabbed the thread and-

The pull was swift and violent. Revan knew she didn't truly have physical form in the vision. Nevertheless, she instinctively braced herself against pain. Instead of her arm being wrenched, though, it was her spirit, a jolt that left her disoriented. After recovering her composure, Revan looked about, and again saw only the lightsaber floating in space. Why had she experienced that sense of being seized if she hadn't gone anywhere?

Then Revan noticed that things had changed. The lightsaber was still in front of her, but the ship's wreckage was nowhere to be seen. Revan realized that the thread had pulled her not in space, but in time. And she could feel a drain in her spirit, as she expended her own energy to project herself into this future. Ignoring that, Revan searched for a reference to estimate how far forward she'd moved. Then she noticed a ship, moving slowly but purposefully nearby. It circled, drawing nearer, finally stopping just in front of Revan. The orientation of the ship prevented Revan from seeing the pilot, but the ship's cargo bay opened and a grappling arm extended, capturing the lightsaber and pulling it in. The cargo bay closed, then the ship engaged its hyperdrive and disappeared.

Revan again listened for the voice, and heard its call. She focused on the voice, and again the thread appeared. Revan again grapsed it and-

The jolt was again abrupt, but this time Revan was better prepared and recovered more quickly. The draining effects of maintaing her presence here were more noticible, but manageable. Revan looked about and found herself still in space, but now in a different location. Rubble was everywhere, and wreckage of numerous starships. Some Revan could identify as Republic, others as Mandalorian. This must be the remains of Malachor V, twice destroyed by the Mass Shadow Generator, the first time when it was activated on Meetra Surik's orders to end the Mandalorian War, and the second time just after Meetra had killed Darth Traya, also known as Kreia, on what remained of Malachor V.

Why had the thread pulled Revan here?

Revan continued looking about, and saw what seemed to be a black piece of cloth drifting in space amongst the rubble. She focused on it, willed herself to approach it, and realized it was the corpse of a black-robed old woman. As the body slowly turned, Revan saw the woman's face. Kreia. So this was her final resting place, among the ruin of Malachor V, her dark plans for the galaxy thwarted. A metallic object under the robes caught Revan's attention. The robes shifted slightly as Kreia's body continued to rotate, revealing Revan's Sith lightsaber. Had it been Kreia who had taken it from the wreckage of Revan's flagship? If so, why?

Again, Revan heard the call of the voice, found the thread, grasped it and-

The effect of the thread was far greater this time, and Revan feared her spirit might be torn asunder. This was no quick tug, but a sustained pull that threatened to rip Revan's mind into pieces. Finally, the whirlwind slowed, and Revan saw she was still at Malachor V. Projecting herself in this time and place was significantly more difficult now, and Revan began to wonder how long she could maintain it. But her mission was not yet accomplished. Revan looked for Kreia's body, and found that little remained. The effects of space had almost completely destroyed it. How much time had passed? Centuries? Millenia? But the lightsaber remained. As Revan continued to watch, a ship of unfamiliar design approached. It appeared to be a starfighter, with wings resembling an X. As it drew closer, Revan realized the pilot was the Jedi Master she was seeking. With a gesture, he used the Force to gather the lightsaber safely into an external compartment on the starfighter. Then he engaged his hyperdrive and, in a flash, he was gone.

Revan again listened for the voice, still wondering how far in the future she had come. This time she quickly heard the voice, much clearer now, and almost immediately found the thread. Revan grasped it, and after a relatively small jolt found herself in the Jedi Master's hut, exactly as she had seen in her visions.

As Revan continued to watch, time seemed to pass swiftly before her. At first, the Jedi Master seemed hopeful as he disassembled Revan's Sith lightsaber, carefully hanging its red crystal in his hut without ever making contact with it. But as weeks, months, and years progressed, his demeanor changed. He grew increasily despondant. Where he had first spent his time in study and meditation, working toward some goal, now he seemed aimless. Several times, he lit a torch and marched toward a massive hollowed tree that Revan perceived to hold something sacred. Each time, he raised the torch as if to ignite the tree, and each time he again lowered it.

Then the Jedi Master was standing on a cliff, overlooking the tumultuous sea. For a moment, Revan feared he meant to jump, but then realized he was doing something even more terrible. As Revan watched, the Jedi Master performed a ritual unfamiliar to Revan, one she hadn't even known was possible, and severed his own connection to the Force.

Revan could not be sure how much actual time passed before the next event - things were moving very swiftly - but a young, dark haired woman arrived on the island. She argued with the Jedi Master, persistently, over days. At first, he ignored her, but finally he relented. Revan realized this was student whose death the Jedi Master had felt, and done nothing, during Revan's first vision. Yet while he now spoke to her, and even seemed to teach her, his mannerisms were harsh and his focus seemed to be on on justifying his discouragement. After one such exchange, the young woman walked away, and Revan perceived that she was contemplating leaving.

And then suddenly, everything slammed to a halt. Revan dropped to the ground as if from a great height, the impact running up both her legs. She stumbled, and would have fallen flat if she hadn't grabbed a nearby rocky outcropping with her hands. Her legs. Her hands. Revan wasn't sure if this was a vision, a dream, or a projection. She was certain she wasn't physically here. Her body, still minus three of its limbs, remained on Coruscant, far in the past. But she also knew that this felt real, and that this was the first time she'd stood on her own feet in roughly half a century. She took a moment to savor the sensation, to stretch her arms into the air, standing on her toes, with all the glee of a small child reaching for a treat. She almost overextended herself and had to catch her balance again. Even with her limbs restored, she was still in her eighties.

Revan reached out in the Force, sensing everything around her. The young woman was still here, but might not be for long. She had been easy to find. She glowed in the Force, as Revan herself once had. It had been long since Revan had perceived anyone with this much raw power. The Jedi Master was harder to locate. Still separated from the Force by his own choice, his presence was elusive. But finally Revan located him, pacing in the ancient Jedi Temple where Revan had previously seen him teach the young woman. He was lost in his own guilt and despair, but as Revan peered deeper, into his heart, she found purity, affection, even a smoldering ember of hope that his struggles had not completely extinguished.

The thread Revan had followed through the ages was nowhere to be found. And things no longer felt dreamlike. Even clear Force visions had a certain ethereal quality to them, but Revan's surroundings were as real as if she were physically present. But this was not the future of the visions Revan had seen on Coruscant. Revan realized that she was now in the Jedi Master's present. Everything she had seen since she began to follow the thread had been in his past. The visions Revan had seen on Coruscant, of the Jedi Master's failure to help his friends, of him killing the young man, and of him severing the galaxy's connection to the Force, were all in his future.

That made Revan's task clear. The Jedi Master's past was fixed. Whatever had brought him to this state, nothing could be done about it. But his future was not set. The unimaginable catastrophe that Revan had witnessed could still be avoided. Here, in the Jedi Master's present, things could be done, actions could be taken, changes could be made. The Jedi Master must reconnect with the Force before he could be healed. And Revan knew what was preventing him from doing that. She took off with great strides towards the Jedi Master's hut, and almost fell for a third time. Reminding herself that, regardless of whether she was a spirit, a projection, or something else, she was still an old woman, she started again more carefully, slowly making her way down the hill. After some time, unsteady and out of breath, she neared the Jedi Master's hut. Inside was her old Sith lightsaber crystal, infused with both her own evil, and, she now sensed, Kreia's. She wasn't yet sure how to accomplish her mission, but she knew what it was: destroy the crystal before it destroyed the Jedi Master, and the galaxy.

She opened the door to the hut, and saw a robed figure inside. At first, she thought the Jedi Master had beaten her here. But his robe was grey, and this figure's robe was black. And the person inside was smaller than the Jedi Master, and no larger than Revan. Revan thought for a moment it might be the young student, but the figure's shoulders were hunched, as if with age. It turned, and lowered its hood.

Kreia.

"I am surprised to see you here," Kreia said, "although I suppose I should not be. You have already defied death more than once. But to encounter you four thousand years into your future is impressive, nonetheless. I know what it is costing you to project yourself here, the unavoidable price you will pay."

"Kreia?" Revan said stupidly. This was the last thing she had expected. She had seen Kreia's dead body floating in space. How could Kreia be- "You bound your spirit to the crystal, didn't you? Is this really you, or an echo sustained by the crystal?"

"Very good," Kreia said. "It seems you recall at least some of what you learned during your time as a Sith. As for my status, does it matter? My physical body had long been a mere device of little consequence, even before its death. If my teachings endure, if my purpose remains undeterred, then the essense of who I am remains."

"Well, it certainly sounds like you," Revan said. "How did you manage to bind yourself to the crystal so quickly? There was no time for the ritual between Meetra's destruction of your defenses and when she ended your life."

"You assume much," Kreia replied. "Did you think I would have risked all on a battle with the Exile in which I knew I would not be the victor? Well trained in combat, that one was, by me at her true beginning, but also by others prior, including yourself. Even before my final encounter with the Exile, my spirit resided in this crystal, animating my already-abandoned body. Yet my transformation into a simulacrum of myself left me unaware of the events of the galaxy for the intervening milennia. Tell me, how did the Exile fare in my absence? Did she abandon my teachings and recreate the flaws of the old Jedi Order, ensuring its ongoing stagnation and impotency?"

"No," Revan said, "but neither is she following exactly what I believe you would have chosen. She is making her own path, and in my opinion doing very well with it."

"If she learned to consider the ramifications of her actions and make intentional choices with an awareness of the consequences," Kreia said, "then perhaps my teachings were not completely lost," Kreia said. "Although the evidence proves that whatever she builds will not be sustained. I have learned through Skywalker that the Jedi Order fell twice in recent years, the first time spiritually through the pride that seems inescapable for the Order, and the second time in battle against the Sith. Perhaps the Jedi simply cannot be saved. Skywalker, though, is something truly special."

Skywalker, Revan thought. That's the Jedi Master's name. A bit grandiose, but if anyone deserved it, it might be him. But Kreia had not stopped speaking.

"When I trained you, I thought you the greatest I would ever encounter. Though you could never match the talents of the old Masters, their ancient knowledge long lost, you were the peak of our era, the very heart of the Force. But Skywalker? He is its soul. Yes, long after my physical death, I have found one even greater than you, and so my last shall be more than my first. Given time and proper training, he could perhaps rival those Masters of old. What the Exile required the destruction of Malachor to achieve, he has done willingly, and in his own strength. Few there have been that survived being so completely severed from the Force, yet none of their own accord. Only one has broken their own chains, freed themseves by their own hand. He exists now apart from the dominion of the Force. No longer does it control his actions, bend his will. He carries the pain of all Jedi past. The lost hopes of twenty five thousand years of erroneous ideals sit upon his shoulders. And this guilt is not misplaced. He knows that he, and he alone, had the ability to rise above all the failures of those who came before him, achieve the impossible dreams that none other could touch. And that is why he can save the galaxy from the Force."

"Your goal, then is to kill the Force itself?" Revan asked in disbelief.

"Surely you are not that foolish," Kreia said. "Kill the Force? It would be easier to extinguish all the stars simultaneously. What can be done, however, is to remove our reality from its influence, to sever its parasitic ties to our galaxy. There are realms other than these. Let the Force have those. I will rescue ours from its dominion."

"You intend to disconnect the Force from the galaxy?" Revan asked. "That doesn't seem much less ambitious."

"That is because you do not understand the power of Malachor's echo," Kreia said. "I had not considered that subtle irony. For it was by your design that it was created, yet never did you realize what you had birthed into existence. I had thought to combine the echo of Malachor with the echo from the Exile's wound, by killing the Exile at Malachor and releasing the echoes in a self-reinforcing cascade that would deafen the galaxy to the Force. But as the Exile grew in strength, it seemed unlikely I could achieve that. And while that might have protected the galaxy for generations, eventualy I fear that even its cacophony would fade. Would the galaxy remember its lesson and stand on its own, or would it again fall under the Force's subjugation? I think the latter. What Skywalker offers is a permanent solution."

"Kreia, what are you planning to do?" Revan asked, an edge in her voice now.

"Ahhh, do you not see it?" Kreia asked. "For all your ability, for all your gifts of strategy, you have never reached into the true mysteries. In this way, your power may be a curse, a crutch on which you lean, preventing you from learning to truly stand."

"Answer the question," Revan demanded.

"To you, old student, I will give this one last gift. I will reveal what is soon to occur. Malachor's echo remains. In the long years while I floated in space at Malachor, bonded to the crystal, my spirit drew the echo into it. The echo is here!" Kreia said this last triumphantly, as if it closed the subject, but Revan was still puzzled.

"That's still not an answer," Revan said sharply. "What are you going to do?"

"Like a child, you cannot understand even when the picture is held before you. That is a disappointment. The burden of all true masters is that their students fail to grow beyond them. Very well, I will explain the picture for you. In the final moment, when the echo is freed, Skywalker will reconnect to the Force and use his immense affinity to it like a conduit, to unleash his wrath. Unlike the Exile, who could at most amplify the echo, Skywalker's power will be fueled by it. He will be as a burning blade, a shining instrument of liberation that will free all in this galaxy from their long oppression at the invisible hands of an unfeeling overlord who seeks only its own vision of balance."

Kreia practically spat this final word, and Revan was amazed that, for all Kreia's self-proclaimed wisdom, she was still apparently oblivious to her own hypocrisy. Her description of the Force more accurately described herself. Was this the root of her pathology, Revan wondered? Was she unknowingly goaded on by her own hidden self loathing, desiring to attack the Force because it was a representation of her? But now was no time to analyze Kreia's complex psychology. Revan could feel her time growing short, the effort of this projection through time and space steadily sapping her. She needed to finish this.

"I have seen what will become if you succeed," Revan said. "I cannot allow it."

"Cannot allow?" Kreia said with disdain. "You cannot stop me. You lack the vision. You were always too bound to the events of the moment. There is an appropriate time for the mundane physical realities, but ever you neglected the higher callings, the elevated purposes. Though your schemes were intricate and many-layered, they were forever doomed in reach because you refused to look to the horizon. That is your weakness."

"And your weakness is your overconfidence," Revan said.

"Oh is it now," Kreia said, her voice dripping with scorn. "Enlighten me, then my student. Show how you have surpassed your master. Here we stand, a spirit and a projection, unable to influence the world around us. We can, at most, nudge their minds, cast a stray thought, a gentle inclination. Years, it has taken me to bring Skywalker to this point. You cannot think my hold on him so weak that you may dislodge it now, in the few moments available to you. So what shall you do? Shall we battle, you and I, in a pointless display of ineffective power? While such an exercise might be dramatic to behold, it would do no harm to either of us. You have learned little, my foolish apprentice, I have won. So please, explain to me, how this flaw you claim to see will be my doom."

"That's my crystal," Revan said.

Kreia's unseeing eyes opened wide with realization. And terror.

"I see you understand, my oh-so-wise master," Revan said, mirroring Kreia's scorn. For a moment, she almost continued her verbal assault, almost took the opportunity to return some of the vitriol that Kreia had dispensed to so many others of the years. It would be a fitting revenge, Revan thought, to not only defeat Kreia, but to first break her, as Revan had broken so many others before her. But then Revan caught herself. How subtle was the Dark Side, how easy to slip back into old ways of thinking, into destructive paths long abandoned. Revan took a deep breath, centered herself, and began again in a more even tone.

"As you yourself taught me many years ago, a kyber crystal has its own voice in the Force. Its existence transcends the physical. Mine called to me across the eons because it knew what you intended. It facilitated visions from the Force of what would happen if you were not stopped. Not because of any benevolence on its part - this is Darth Revan's crystal after all - but because some almost-alive part of it desires to continue to exist. I will grant one of its wishes. I will stop your plans. Its other wish, I will deny. Because the crystal extends into the spiritual realm, and because as my crystal it remains strongly connected to me, I can affect it, even as a projection. The crystal ends here, one last relic of a past I set aside many years ago."

"No!" Kreia said desperately. "You cannot- I will-"

"You will do nothing," Revan said calmly, walking past Kreia, ignoring her continued protests. "As you already explained, we cannot harm each other. But I can do this."

Revan placed her hands around the crystal and focused her thoughts on it. She could sense that her energy, already overextended by projecting herself across time and space, was almost exhausted. But she ignored that and continued, the crystal beginning to glow a brilliant red. She had to destroy it, but she could not let the echo escape. Without Skywalker's wound it would not have the galaxy-wide effects that Kreia had intended, but Revan feared it might have a local one, and she had to protect Skywalker from any last assault. Revan was vaguely aware that Kreia was alternating between cursing at her and futilely searching for some technique, some secret by with she might deter Revan. But there was none. With a loud blast, the crystal exploded in Revan's hands, throwing her backward. Even as she flew across the hut, Revan maintained her focus, directing the echo inward in a self-canceling reverbation that faded harmlessly. And although Revan knew she was just a projection into this reality, the wall of the hut felt very solid as her head struck it and she briefly slipped into blackess.

When Revan came to, she was alone. She lay crumpled against the wall of the hut for several minutes, unable to rise, feeling herself begin to fade. Destroying the crystal had taken her last reserves of strength. She knew her life was still tied to her failing body, which was dying four thousand years ago on Coruscant, its energy expended. There was no possibility of return. But then, she hadn't expected to.

Kreia was gone. With the crystal destroyed, Kreia's spirit had been released to whatever awaited truly dead Darksiders. And the Jedi Master, Skywalker, was freed. His road would still not be easy. The crystal had been to blame for only part of his struggles, and he might not yet even realize that anything had changed. But without its influence, Revan believed, he would now reopen himself to the Force and begin his own healing process.

There was one more thing Revan had to do, one more thing she had to see. With the last bit of her failing power, Revan sought a final vision of Skywalker's future, and the Force answered her call.

The Jedi Master sat alone, in a high place overlooking the sea. His face was calm. Deep lines were etched upon it, but they seemed to be relics of past hardship, strangers to the person he now was. His eyes were bright and clear, and his countenance and demeanor spoke of peace. Though his body sat alone in this place of beauty, his essence was elsewhere. The galaxy's last spark of hope was threatened, and he had gone to save it. Those he cared for most were in danger far away. His friends. His young student. His sister. And with them, all who still stood against the oppressing shadow threatening to cover the galaxy. He had the power to save them, and he used it now, projecting himself to be with them against their adversary. He knew this effort would claim his life, but he did not mind.

Skywalker slipped quietly into the Force, his purpose fulfilled, and Revan followed with him.

Carth held his wife's lifeless body in his arms, unwilling to let go. Even after her injuries, she had always seemed larger than life to him, a presense that filled any room. Now with her empowering spirit gone, her physical remains seemed tiny, featherweight in his arms. His cheeks wet, he looked down at her vacant face through tear-filled eyes. Had she accomplished her mission? Had she saved the Jedi Master, and the galaxy? Of course she had, he thought. She was Revan.