Revan leaned her forehead against the stone wall. This, too, was some ancient Rakatan monument, but not one of the Star Maps. She was alone – she'd told even her droid sentinels to go find another whose cause to support – and she'd left in a ship none of her associates knew existed. To ensure she was alone, she'd even changed the transponder a few times.
She'd told everyone she was off to fight a threat in the Unknown Regions. What she hadn't told anyone was that the threat was fully internal.
Back in the Republic, in civilization, no-one had known how to deal with her: Jedi, Sith, then Jedi again, one that was and wasn't the Sith who'd committed all those atrocities in the name of something she did not comprehend anymore. It was best she disappear into the void before the shine of the conquering hero, defeater of Malak, wore off and people started to ask for justice for her past crimes. Then they would start questioning whether she was the Revan who had committed those crimes or someone significantly different, and the truth was, she did not know.
And that was why she was here. Who was she, when no-one needed her to be anyone?
It turned out that the answer, at least in part, was archaeologist. Something about the dead called to her.
"Did you find what you were looking for amongst the dead?" her Master would ask. Yes, Revan would always say, for she had found something, always; but no, she had not found the whole of what she sought.
"I'm sorry, Master," Revan said, remembering the pyre.
The stone was silent. Revan sighed and began making her way around the structure.
If only the Rakatans had labeled their buildings with some sort of script. The language wouldn't have passed down continuously through time, but Revan had learned the spoken tongue and could've learned the written language with effort. She'd always had an interest: in Ancient Selkath, in Archaic Huttese, in High Sith. Every script and language she could get her hands on, she'd absorbed in some quest for answers.
This monument had a stone plinth two meters tall with a base four meters square. Atop it had rested some sort of sculpture, perhaps informative once upon a time but now weathered to some remnant of a humanoid figure. The Force told Revan the interesting thing was in the plinth.
A full circuit showed nothing resembling a door. But Rakata had built their Empire on the Dark Side of the Force – any doors would be meant for slave species.
The interesting thing was in the plinth.
Revan reached out with the Force. There was some mechanism there, worn with the ages, but still intact enough Revan might be able to work it.
She sat down on the ground in a meditative position. The mechanism was fragile; she would need all her concentration for this.
Breathe in. Breathe out.
Despite everything, the Force responded to her presence and let her merge with it. It did not quite welcome her, but it accepted her nonetheless. She sank into it gratefully.
Now the shape of the lock began to emerge. There had been a lever here, a pin there, a shaft that connected to some still-functional device at the heart of the hollow plinth. It required the Force to open. With a steady enough hand, it would not have required the Force to construct or close. Intriguing – Revan would have to find out whether this was mere coincidence or something deeper.
The stone heaved apart with a massive groan. The plinth split, yawing open into two sides that resembled nothing more than a krayt dragon's maw. The remnants of the statue went with the left half, but only barely. Stones fell off the structure. The mechanism broke and left the two halves stranded, one half more open than the other.
In the center of it all, the Force swirled, and a humanoid figure fell to its knees. Revan rose to her feet and waited.
The person in the stasis pod was no Rakata. Revan's best guess was Zabrak, female, adult for a decade or so.
"Tai yenth-akk Rakata," the woman said once she'd walked over to Revan.
"I am no Rakata," Revan replied, guessing at the contents despite not recognizing the language. "Come closer."
The woman didn't, but that was all right. Revan could close the distance and press her hand to the woman's temple. She remembered teaching Basic to the Rakata; she replicated that action more gently.
"You-" the woman jerked back. "Who are you?"
"I am Revan," Revan replied. That she was sure of. "The Rakata are dead."
The woman's face split in an ugly grin. Predator, Revan's mind supplied. "It worked. It worked!" The woman laughed. "The Rakata are dead!"
"You slept for twenty thousand years," Revan gently said.
"Irrelevant," the woman scoffed. "They already destroyed everything I might have cared about. In return, I destroyed everything they held dear. Their powers. Their power. Their Empire."
Revan considered everything: the imprisonment, the plinth that required nothing to construct and the Force to open, the decline of the Rakata. "There was a disease that took away their connection to the Force."
"Yes. I made it." The woman smiled. "I am Zeratan, vanquisher of the Infinite Empire."
"Well met, Zeratan." Revan bowed.
"Tell me, then," Zeratan said, "what rose in their place? What is the shape of the galaxy now?"
Perhaps this was what Revan had needed to find: someone new, who had never heard the name of Revan and knew nothing about her past. Someone with whom Revan could rediscover herself, even in relation to another. A guide to the mysteries of the Rakatan Empire.
"Let me show you," Revan said.