Dooku opened the doors of the hidden chamber with a wave of his hand. The Force was oddly silent here, as if laying in wait. Dooku, of course, had no intention of springing any traps. He slowly made his way down the rough steps and into the inner room cut into the rock.
The room was mostly empty. Dooku did not light any of the crystal sconces attached to the walls, nor did he ignite his lightsaber, but from the light streaming through the door, he could make out two ancient droids – one astromech, one protocol – and a handful of carbonite stasis chambers. No obvious tripwires or pressure plates, though he did still choose his steps carefully.
He came to a halt before one of the blocks of carbonite. The Force tugged at him. Not thinking much of it, he reached for the decarbonization switch.
With a hiss, the gray substance melted away. The humanoid form gained definition and colors – well, color: the person was dressed head to toe in black and their face was hidden by a draped hood and mask.
The person stumbled to their feet. Dooku kept his face impassive, even if not falling to one's knees upon carbon defrosting was an impressive feat. And this being had been frozen for millennia.
The Force was taut like a bowstring waiting to be unleashed. The other person had been frozen as a trophy for some long-dead Sith, or perhaps they'd been a loyal acolyte, but to be worth keeping alive, they must've been dangerous.
“Sith,” the other person – a woman, then – rasped.
“I am Count Dooku.” Now came the risky part. He rested his hand on his lightsaber. “I am not the only Sith in the galaxy. My Master-”
“-lives, and you hope to correct this cosmic error?” the woman interrupted wryly.
And dangerous very often meant smart. “In essence, yes.”
The woman stretched her hands high above her head. Dooku heard her spine pop. “You've even kindly provided me with an opportunity to warm up.”
Alarm bells rang in Dooku's head. He drew his lightsaber-
-and crossed it against a purple blade. The woman was fast; Dooku parried her next strike, but had to retreat against her onslaught.
Whom had he awakened? He was a master of Makashi, but this woman's Makashi was impeccable. He had trouble keeping up with her attacks and didn't have time to probe her defenses.
He felt the woman gather the Force and braced himself against a push. Was she as good at Niman as she was at Makashi?
The woman pulled. Dooku stumbled in surprise, lightsaber swinging wide, straight into her purple blade.
So this is how Qui-Gon felt at the end, he numbly thought as he stared at the plasma sticking out of his chest.
He collapsed onto the floor when the woman turned off her lightsaber. He could've perhaps still attacked and if not killed her, wounded her, but the Force was cradling him like it hadn't in so very long. He thought he felt Qui-Gon's presence in the Force.
He closed his eyes and reached out. The sounds of the woman defrosting her companions faded away as the Force welcomed its wayward son.
Mace Windu set his teacup down. “Did you feel that?”
“Yes.” Depa stared out the window, brow pinched. “It was ... did Dooku die?”
“Not by Jedi hand.” Mace closed his eyes and sank into a light meditation. Depa did the same on the other side of the table. It was all they had time for, with the war, but Mace would have to sit down with Yoda and schedule a Council meditation session.
But first, he had to let the thought go. He became empty so the Force could fill him.
Emotion, yet peace. Ignorance, yet knowledge. Passion, yet serenity. Chaos, yet harmony. Death, yet the eternal stream of the Force, ever flowing, ever connecting every speck of life in the galaxy.
And today the Force was settled. War still weighed on it, the dying screams of a thousand sentients who joined it, but something in it hummed with the promise of soon.
“It seems whatever killed Dooku might come for his master,” Depa observed when they emerged.
Mace inclined his head. “That would be convenient. Perhaps too much so.”
His old padawan poured herself another cup of tea. “Indeed. Yet we cannot affect it, so what can we do but keep our eyes open and focus on what we can change?”
“You've grown wise.”
Depa smiled. “Oh, you can blame my old Master for that. He was very much into philosophy. He even invented his own lightsaber form with its own philosophy.”
Mace snorted. “You always were impudent.”
“But am I wrong?”
“No,” Mace sighed. This anomaly would come to their doorstep eventually. Until then, they could only wait.
Uyen Zhera placed a steadying hand on her lightsaber and let the kyber crystal within reassure her that the Light was still there. Its song harmonized with her heart, weaving a small space within her that the darkness couldn't touch.
And if there was one thing this planet had in abundance, it was darkness. Millennia of Sith rituals had stained the Force here with hatred and the lust for power. Every step on Korriban's red rock sent echoes of a bloody ritual or gleeful execution up her spine. This planet drowsed like a krayt dragon with an eye half open. Were she to stir it further, she would be consumed alive.
“Master Zhera?” one of her droid companions asked. “Are you all right?”
“Korriban takes its toll,” Uyen said with a forced steadiness. “I will recover when we're offworld. Come. The place Master Yoda spoke of is nearby.”
The vision had apparently told him that the key to everything was on Korriban. The Council had decided to send Uyen due to her excellent memory, level disposition, and ability to run extremely fast, just in case the “key to everything” turned out to be the Sith Lord in charge of the war. On Coruscant, this had seemed like a smart albeit desperate plan. Here on Korriban, the planet itself was tearing her apart. The Sith Lord wouldn't have to lift a finger.
She walked between the tombs of two Sith whose names had been lost to the sands of time. Her target was just around the corner.
The owner of that tomb had been lost to time as well, but the giant statues on either side of the entrance suggested a near-human woman. Uyen paused in the shadow of one and looked around herself. The Force was useless for warnings, but her eyes and ears still worked, as did those of her droid sentinels.
“Sensors indicate one mechanical lifeform nearby,” one of them said in a voice that felt much too loud for Korriban's hush.
Uyen held out a hand to try and hush the droids – audio pickup was the second most common intrusion detection system, right after motion detectors, and all but guaranteed to be installed on any mechanical lifeforms – but it was too late. Something whirred to life behind a pillar.
Click. “Gleeful Declaration: Finally, something that will require engaging my assassination protocols. The tuk'ata are no challenge at all.”
“Excuse me, but who are you?” Uyen lit her lightsaber. She'd dismantled traps while excavating Sith tombs, but this droid was not the typical sentinel. Its age was apparent, yet it was obviously well-maintained and had recently received an oil bath.
“HK, what are you doing?” a woman asked.
“Answer: Master, intruders have come across us.”
The woman walked around the pillar to get a better look at Uyen. Uyen kept her lightsaber in the Soresu opening stance and observed the woman. Dark hooded robes, brownish chest piece, a mask she distinctly recalled from somewhere... “Revan?” she hazarded.
“Ah, you recognized me,” the woman – Revan – said. Uyen received the impression of a nexu grinning with all its teeth. “The tomb is yours; I am done with it.”
“Query: Does this mean I get to inter them in it?”
“No, HK,” Revan replied. “We have larger quarry.”
“Resigned Acceptance: Very well, Master. We shall go murder someone else instead.”
Uyen stayed very still, some instinctive freeze response from her homeworld's savannahs taking hold, as Revan and her droid made way to a half-hidden ship that rose as soon as they'd set foot within. A third person piloting, then.
Silence reigned around her. She drew a deep breath and let it go. “Let's look at the tomb.”
Dread still creeped up her spine, and she still had the sense of being watched, but the sensations had retreated slightly. It was only Korriban that loomed over her as she went over the tomb of the long-dead Sith and found nothing. Either Revan had taken whatever Master Yoda had seen or Revan herself had been the envisioned key to everything.
Sheev Palpatine sat in his office, back to the impressive picture window, and rolled a half-empty glass of wine in his hands. The Jedi's report of Darth Revan's return sat on his desk, read and reread. When they'd presented it, he'd had to play dumb and concerned, but in the privacy of his own mind, he had to acknowledge that Master Yoda's suspicions must be correct: Darth Revan would be the key to everything. And she was coming for him.
Oh, she'd have to investigate – had Dooku told her, she'd have arrived already – but as a Sith Lord, she wasn't confined by the moral scruples that so handicapped the Jedi. She would eventually find enough evidence to bring her to his office.
Sidious set down the glass. It was a bit too early for Skywalker to roll over and pledge allegiance to him, though he was still the best choice of Jedi protector. And Chancellor Palpatine was a completely banal and weak non-Force sensitive who'd need protection from the big bad Sith Lord. He'd just have to arrange for Kenobi to be offworld, lest he talk sense into Skywalker or believe any accusations Revan might levy.
Or perhaps he could have Kenobi die in his defense by Darth Revan's blade? Yes, that would take care of the thorn in his side and bring Skywalker closer to the Dark.
Mentally congratulating himself, Sidious took another sip of his wine and turned to the information he had gathered himself. Revan hadn't left much trace in the various Sith archives, and Darth Gravid had destroyed much, but even the smallest tidbit-
The Force screamed a warning and Sidious threw himself to the side. The window shattered and his desk exploded in a hail of shrapnel.
Sidious rolled to his feet and looked around. Clone troopers should be running in at any moment, so he couldn't draw his lightsaber. He settled against a wall and looked out the window.
The door slid open. Sidious turned his head.
“Darth Revan,” he greeted the newcomer.
“Just Revan,” she replied as the door whispered closed behind her.
Interesting. “I take it you have taken care of the security?”
“They will not interrupt us.” She ignited her purple lightsaber with a snap.
“Oh, I will enjoy killing you.” Sidious drew his lightsabers and lit them with a twirl. The crystals, away from the shielding, screamed with rage and hatred. It had been much too long since he'd been able to fight anything but training droids.
“You will try – and you will fail.”
Sidious snorted and leaped at Revan. He slashed at her head and legs to probe at her defenses, only for both of them to be effortlessly parried and Revan to lean into a double-parry tap that he had to dodge.
Ah, a challenge. Very well. Revan had taken out the witnesses already.
Sidious gathered his hatred at this interruption and streamed out a burst of lightning. Revan caught it on her lightsaber and walked closer. She wasn't affected, so Sidious poured more of his frustration into his hands.
Revan ignored that as well, flicking her lightsaber at Sidious in a classical Makashi strike. He dodged with a backflip.
Decades of politics and petty bureaucracy had given him an inexhaustible well of rage. He was the greater Sith, angrier and more hating, and he would come out on top. He twirled his offhand saber and ramped up his assault. The Jedi might notice, but let them pin it on Revan.
She caught his blade on her own and danced out of the way of his second. He pressed the attack, but even as she retreated, it didn't seem like he'd offbalanced her.
A shove with the Force did nothing. Sidious let her push him back to the center of the room and the ruins of his desk as he tried to recall which of the Sith artefacts hidden in the room next door might be presently useful.
The Force screamed a warning. Sidious, by habit, brought one of his lightsabers to deflect the blaster bolt.
The bolt went straight through it. Hot metal splattered onto his hands – he was Sith; pain was strength – and he snarled a hiss. A slugthrower? Where had this person found a slugthrower?
Then pain bloomed from his chest as well. He looked at Revan to find she had taken advantage of his momentary distraction to plunge her lightsaber through his heart.
“No!” he yelled, using all his power to draw the living Force of Revan, the potted plants in the hall, the Senators in their offices, to fill his rapidly emptying shell and cling to life.
It was not enough. Darth Sidious fell to the ground, dying. The Force did not welcome him and so he exploded in a shower of Dark.
Revan stared at her mask where it was propped up on the table. Sidious and Dooku were dead, which should be most of the Sith of this era. She'd done her best to eradicate the Sith on a few occasions prior, but the Sith had returned, either from a sole survivor of a prior intra-Sith dispute training apprentices beyond the reach of the civilization or from Jedi Falling and seeking out Sith teachings. She wondered which had spawned this line.
Once again, she wondered whether she and the galaxy be better served by her remaining awake or by her disappearing into stasis once more.
But how would she explain her companions to the Jedi? Some might not be objectionable, but Canderous and HK-47 would draw raised brows at best. And her companions had made following her into the future and beyond their cause, but if she stayed awake, she would run out of Sith to hunt, and who would she be then? Who was Revan, if not a symbol of a person out on a grand quest for justice?
Her master had warned her. She had not listened. She hadn't found her way out of a great many things.
It would be a simple thing to become someone else – shed the mask, shed the robes, change the name – but she had already become someone else, once, and even without the memories she had still turned back into Revan. She could shed her past, but not her self. She didn't think she wanted to.
“Statement: Master, you appear to be moping,” HK-47 interjected.
“It seems I am, HK; it seems I am.” Revan sighed and leaned back in her chair. It was taking Jolee and Canderous forever to get the food. She didn't think the fact their ship was stolen would attract any attention in this anonymous port, but something in her still itched. It might be a warning from the Force, or it might simply be the aftermath of a successful hunt, the sudden lack of direction driving her to distraction.
“Query: Do you have our next location picked out yet, Master?”
“No; I thought we'd hunt out any potential apprentices or acolytes first.”
“Statement: Excellent. I was hoping to utilize my assassination protocols some more.”
It would take some time to dig out a suitable chamber for the carbonite freezing apparati and the climate control to keep HK-47 and T3-M4 ready to spring into action for millennia. Then Revan would have to seed knowledge of its location into what Sith archives survived, deep enough that random Jedi archaeologists wouldn't find her but close enough that a desperate Sith would.
And all Sith were desperate, in the end. She should know. She'd been one.
After that, she'd collapse the previous den and settle to wait. But before that-
Before that, she had time to spend with her companions, droid sentinels to tune up, and acolytes to hunt. And perhaps she could improve the galaxy as she went.
Her lips twitched into a predatory grin. “I do believe we have time for that. Say, what do you think about assassinating some Hutts?”
“Gleeful Declaration: Master, your bloodthirstiness warms my circuits.”
Revan put the mask back on her face and pulled a datapad to her hands with the Force. She pulled up the HoloNet and went trawling. The Force sang with her contentment at having a cause once more.