In the throne room of the vanished ruler of the defunct Empire, two figures stood facing each other. They were aliens from another time, natives of a different era. Raised in separate cultures, they met on opposite sides of the barricades yet were forced to unite. A bond that culminated in betrayal.
Through the visor of his mask, Revan gazed into the face of the killer, the one who had ended the life of an unarmed friend with a treacherous blow to the back.
The shocked expression of Meetra Surik stood vividly before the former Jedi's eyes, stirring up guilt and regret. And also, hatred. A pure, untainted hatred for the Sith Pureblood who stood opposite him.
Scourge looked relaxed... almost weary. His shoulders were slouched too low for readiness to fight. His gaze was unreadable. The arrogance of the Pureblood and the Darkness — that is what Revan saw in the crimson eyes of the Dark Side adept.
"I foresaw your coming, Master," the Sith slowly intoned.
A flick of the silver blade, and a wave of the Force, channeled through the weapon by its owner, shot off the edge.
A crimson blur of a vertical strike.
Scourge managed to deflect the attack, splitting the wave in two. The columns flanking the throne erupted into a fan of shattered fragments.
"I see you're not in a talking mood?" the Sith asked with a slight smirk.
Revan merely snorted contemptuously.
"I have nothing to discuss with you."
"Won't even hear me out? Don't want to know the reason?" Scourge smirked and began to descend slowly from the pedestal, keeping his crimson blade active.
"Give me back my friend and my family, traitor," Revan hissed, lunging forward.
The Pureblood wore heavy Sith armor, well-known to the former Jedi. Such armor was favored by warriors who practiced the power-based fighting style. If Revan's memory served, Scourge was one of them. The armor model was relatively new, meaning it had been custom-made from modern materials. That was both good and bad.
Blades clashed with a screeching sound. The more mobile Revan attacked swiftly, intending to flank him. However, the Sith anticipated the maneuver and managed to deflect every strike. But he was unprepared for the telekinetic blow aimed at his knee. A Force-enhanced kick from the armored boot of the Mandalorian armor slammed into the red-skinned Lord's chin, sending Scourge flying toward the base of the Emperor's throne.
The impact was monstrously powerful, and had it not been for the armor's gorget, his neck vertebrae would not have withstood such abuse.
The Sith barely managed to roll aside as two blades plunged into the spot where he had lain moments before.
The Force Push with which Scourge intended to break the distance, Revan simply ignored, using Force Absorb.
The Sith deflected the next combination of strikes while kneeling on one leg, unable to find an opportunity to stand up.
Revan was fast and incredibly strong, which once again awakened a nearly forgotten sense of awe in Scourge. The same feeling he had experienced after long conversations with the captured Jedi in the dungeons of Darth Nyriss. The shock and terror that gripped the Sith the moment Revan destroyed one of the Dark Council members with a single strike, even while weakened by years of imprisonment and the use of sedatives.
'Could he have won back then?' the Pureblood, barely holding back his opponent's assault, wondered.
In the next instant, the silver blade deflected the crimson one, opening a path for its black counterpart. The blade of Revan's second saber entered the Sith's breastplate with a grinding sound.
The opponents froze.
Scourge slowly lowered his gaze to the blade protruding from his chest. The black-with-gold-trim arc of the blade had entered almost two-thirds of the way and had clearly exited from the back.
"For Meetra," Revan whispered.
The hand gripping the weapon intended to end the Sith's life jerked back, preparing to extract the blade from the enemy's body. But Scourge did not allow it. An armored gauntlet seized Revan's forearm, clamping down in a vice-like grip.
The rage consuming Revan helped him channel the energy of the Dark Side when needed, strengthening his body and granting speed. Only the moment the black blade found its mark did he allow himself to calm slightly.
Scourge was a good fighter, the best he'd fought since waking up in this new body. Yet it wasn't enough. Few could rival Revan in lightsaber combat. Arren Kae had once compared him to ancient masters like Tulak Hord. Thus, the former Jedi was quite confident in his abilities, just as he was confident that the strike, which hit a nerve cluster just below the heart, should have neutralized the opponent, causing him monstrous pain.
So, he was surprised when Scourge, seemingly unfazed by the wound, grabbed his arm, nearly breaking the bones, and delivered a terrifyingly powerful overhead strike with his blade.
In any other situation, Revan would not have risked meeting such an attack with a hard block, recognizing the difference in physical strength. But deprived of room to maneuver, he simply saw no other option.
The silver blade, reinforced by a burst of Telekinesis, stood in the path of the crimson saber that threatened to sever the former Jedi's left arm. The hilt was nearly knocked from his fingers as the full force of the blow crashed down on the plasma arc of the sword. Even with the aid of the Force, Revan barely contained the attack, scorching his own sleeve with his own blade.
But he missed the backhanded strike from the hilt. The mask clanged as the Sith's armored gauntlet struck his left cheekbone. Revan nearly lost his balance but recovered in time, deflecting a new blow.
He couldn't tear his arm free from the grip. The Sith simply gave him no time to concentrate, raining down new attacks.
Finally, snatching a moment of concentration, the former Jedi seized the opponent's gauntlet—with the saber hilt still clenched within it—with Telekinesis, freezing it in the air.
Silence fell again. Revan couldn't free his arm from Scourge's grip, and the Sith, in turn, couldn't strike.
"How?" Revan gasped, trying to understand why his opponent was still able to move.
"My life is pain," the Sith growled, his crimson eyes flashing as he released his hand, letting go of his opponent.
A radial Telekinetic Blast launched by Scourge pushed Revan away, sending him flying toward the nearest wall. However, the former Jedi managed to turn in mid-air and, pushing off the obstacle with his feet, immediately went back on the attack.
Scourge felt the thrill of battle, lost centuries ago, surge within him! This was him, the one he had waited for all these years! A rival! A mentor! A mighty opponent! A hope... for long-awaited peace.
The combatants met, fiercely attacking each other as if to emphasize that the preceding clash had not been a true fight, but merely a game. Their speed increased tenfold. The stone arches of the throne room cracked from the force of their attacks. The columns shook and were covered in fissures.
The opponents did not hesitate to use the environment to gain an advantage. Stone debris and remnants of the throne, destroyed in the heat of the fight, repeatedly attempted to throw the opponent off balance.
Here, Revan let another boulder that should have crushed his skull fly past him and attacked his exposed foe with a stream of forked Force Lightning.
It took Scourge only a few seconds to regain control over his muscles and raise his lightsaber to intercept the Force Lightning, deflecting the attack.
Revan's next attack met almost no resistance from the still-recovering Sith. Three deep cuts on his left side were the price of lost vigilance.
Yet, this seemed not to bother Scourge at all. He turned and resumed his stance as if nothing had happened.
"Vitiate did something to you," Revan stated, acknowledging the low effectiveness of his attacks.
"He rewarded me," the Sith snarled back, launching a dash toward the former Jedi.
The Pureblood's speed and strength increased. In addition, he used a rather unique fighting style that combined elements of the Fifth and Sixth Forms, Shien and Niman respectively. While Niman was quite familiar to Revan, Shien appeared significantly reworked, as if it had been specifically adapted for dueling, much like Makashi.
Furthermore, it was apparent that the Sith had studied not only lightsaber forms but had also drawn knowledge from the combat skills of the Echani, Mandalorians, and many other peoples, allowing him to develop his own style, capable of surprising even a seasoned fighter like Revan.
The Sith's latest combination ended with the former Jedi receiving a short, searing scratch on his breastplate, having barely managed to jump back from a horizontal slash.
Scourge seemed to grow stronger with every passing minute. Or was Revan slowing down?
Even with the tempest of emotions raging in his mind, the former Jedi managed to analyze his opponent's actions, preventing his mind from completely surrendering to rage and the Darkness. Emotions fueled the Dark Side and...
Revan cursed, realizing his oversight. Back in Nyriss's dungeons, Scourge had let slip his unique talent, one not every Sith possessed.
This particular Pureblood had the innate ability to not only use his own emotions for amplification but also subconsciously fed on the Dark Side energy used by his opponent. The fear and anger of his adversary only strengthened the Sith. This made him an ideal fighter against other Dark Side adepts, which is what attracted the attention of Darth Nyriss, who needed an assassin to eliminate her opposition and, ultimately, to attempt an assassination on the Emperor himself.
However, this was also Scourge's main weakness. If his opponent felt no strong emotions or used only the Light Side of the Force, his effectiveness drastically dropped. The worst opponents were droids, which, according to his own account, nearly killed him on one of Darth Nyriss's missions.
Revan had been fueling Scourge with his own anger. Taking control of himself and clearing his mind proved harder than usual. The thought that the one responsible for his friend's death stood before him, the one who prevented Revan from returning to Bastila, the traitor, constantly raged in his consciousness.
It required summoning all the self-control and concentration the former Jedi was capable of. The Jedi Code did not help calm him, so Revan focused on the image of Bastila.
A memory from their short but happy family life surfaced. His beloved sat in a chair on the balcony of their cozy apartment on Coruscant. Her chestnut hair, unstyled this time, flowed freely in the wind. Bastila's peaceful face, admiring the sunset, was uniquely beautiful that day. Her blue eyes shone with happiness, and a sweet smile played on her lips. Perhaps it was then that she learned she was carrying their child?
Revan took a deep breath, feeling the Darkness leave his body, replaced by a sense of serenity and lightness that attracted the rare side of the Force in this world. The Light, which had visited the throne room only a few times in the Citadel's existence, readily rushed to its adept's aid, giving Revan the strength to employ Force Valor.
Scourge's new attack was met with an equally powerful repulsion.
After deflecting the first strike, Revan threw his black blade behind the Sith, then deflected a new attack with his left palm. Without losing speed, the former Jedi spun on his axis and struck Scourge diagonally across the chest. In the same second, the black blade, guided by Telekinesis, struck the opponent's raised left arm, knocking the lightsaber from his grip.
The final blow, which should have ended the confrontation, hit the left vambrace of Scourge's armor. Revan noticed too late the unusual sheen of the metal coating this piece of armor. Upon colliding with the Cortosis weave, the silver blade's plasma arc destabilized and vanished.
The Sith took advantage of the moment of confusion, delivering a powerful blow to his opponent's abdomen. However, Revan was slightly faster; casting aside the now-useless blade, he managed to intercept the Sith's fist and divert it slightly, exposing Scourge's head for a counterattack.
Blocking his foe's second hand, Revan prevented him from stepping back, then kneed him in the stomach. The armor plates absorbed most of the impact energy, but what remained was enough to make the Sith lurch forward, trying to regain his balance. There, he was met by a jump-kick to the knee.
Thrown back, Scourge fell onto his back and didn't even have time to move before Revan landed on his chest, pinning him to the ground. The black blade severed one of the facial growths on his chin and scorched his neck, preventing the Sith from escaping.
All that remained was to slightly shift the saber to sever the traitor's head from his body, finally restoring justice.
"Any last words?" Revan asked in a steady voice.
His mind was clearer than ever. The Battle Meditation allowed him to cast aside anger and resentment, making way for the pure power of the Light.
The Sith smiled faintly, which surprised the former Jedi. Was he glad about his defeat?
"I won't make excuses, if that's what you expect," Scourge hissed, trying to look into Revan's eyes, hidden behind the mask's visor.
"There is no death, there is the Force," the former Jedi quoted, preparing to end the Sith's prolonged life.
He suddenly felt a familiar, soft touch on his shoulder. There was no alarm; the Force did not warn him of danger, but rather urged him to turn around and satisfy the curiosity that had flared up.
Yielding to the impulse, Revan turned his head and saw a woman's hand, covered in a bluish glow, gripping his shoulder. The familiar presence of his friend followed. Raising his eyes to the unexpected visitor, the former Jedi could barely believe his eyes.
Behind him, leaning down, stood Meetra Surik. This was no phantom or illusion, which the Force would have signaled. No. This was a true Force Ghost. Revan would not mistake his comrade's spirit for anyone else. She had followed him into battle during the Mandalorian Wars, survived the catastrophe on Malachor, came for him on Dromund Kaas, felt the emptiness of Nathema, and followed him into the fight with the Emperor. And even after death, the spirit of his lost friend had supported him for three hundred years. So, Revan simply could not mistake her, or his beloved Bastila, for anyone else.
"Meetra," he greeted the ghost with a smile.
"Hello, old friend," she nodded, returning a warm smile.
"What are you doing here? I thought you merged with the Force long ago."
"I came to stop you from making another mistake, Revan," the girl nodded toward Scourge, who was pinned to the floor.
Revan turned to the Sith, who was looking directly at Meetra, confirming that he could see her too.
"You came because of him? Why?" the former Jedi asked, a hint of surprise in his voice.
"To restore justice," Meetra announced.
"To watch me end his life?" Revan asked, nearly growling as emotions flared up again.
"No," Meetra cut him off. "I am here to save him."
"What?" The former Jedi turned to the Force Ghost, not understanding why Meetra would say that. "What do you mean? He betrayed us! He killed you!"
"He saved you, protected your family, and the Republic itself, paying only one life in return," the Jedi Exile declared.
"What are you talking about?" Revan was baffled.
"Lower your blade; he'll tell you everything," the girl nodded toward the Sith. "And for the sake of the Force, try to listen to him, my friend."
Reluctantly, Revan obeyed Meetra's request, releasing Scourge and allowing him to stand up.
"I'm listening," the former Jedi growled.
The Sith straightened up and brushed the dust and stone fragments from his armor and torn cloak. Revan managed to notice wounds, already beginning to heal, visible in the gaps of the armor.
"I said I won't make excuses," Scourge crossed his arms over his chest.
"Oh, Force, as stubborn as a Bantha! I'd hoped a long life would fix your temperament," Meetra threw up her hands. "Tell him everything, or I will."
"No."
"Uhh, then it'll be the short version," Meetra snapped irritably, turning to Revan.
"A version of what?" the former Jedi asked.
"A version of the events of the day we went to kill the Emperor. You didn't know that this simpleton had a vision?"
"Who? The Emperor?"
"Scourge!"
"Scourge?"
"Is there an echo here? Yes, Scourge had a vision. He foresaw our defeat. The annihilation of the entire strike team by Vitiate's hands," Meetra replied, gradually changing her tone from irritated to her usual, calm one.
Revan shifted his gaze to the Sith. Something surfaced in the former Jedi's memory, causing him to almost gape at the realization of the hidden truth.
"So that's why you asked me about visions! Whether it's possible to change what is predetermined... Why did you keep silent about the reason for your inquiries?"
"What if by doing so I only made things worse? Wasn't it you who told me about the danger of precognition? Attempts to change everything could only hasten the tragic outcome of our mission," Scourge finally condescended to answer.
"You could have told me..."
"And what would that have changed? Would you have believed me? Would you have called off the attack?" the Sith snorted.
Revan wanted to argue but realized Scourge was right. Before him, only a handful of Sith possessed the gift of foresight. The Dark Side concealed the future even from its own adepts. To believe a Sith and call off the plan to destroy their Emperor?
"No," Revan shook his head. "You're right. I wouldn't have believed you. Even now, only thanks to Meetra, do I reluctantly admit that such a thing could have happened."
"Exactly," Scourge smirked. "I had to find a way out myself."
"And you decided to betray us to save yourself?" Revan nearly flared up.
"No. The reason was different."
"What was it?"
"A new vision."
"Another one?"
"Yes."
Revan grit his teeth but still asked about the contents of the conveniently timed vision.
"I saw the Emperor's demise. But he was destined to be killed by another, and not on that day. And I was meant to be beside the one who would strike down Vitiate. The Force commanded it. But I could only survive the attack on the Emperor in one way."
"To pretend it was part of your plan to uncover the conspiracy?" Revan guessed, being no stranger to the intrigues that inevitably surrounded power.
"Yes," Scourge nodded. "I could only play the role of the double traitor who was actually loyal to the Emperor and led his enemies to their execution."
"But for Vitiate to believe it, solid proof was required," Meetra added.
"Our death," Revan agreed. "And specifically at the hands of a traitor."
"Yes," Meetra confirmed.
"It was so," Scourge nodded, frowning as if in pain. "Meetra's lightsaber throw decided everything. Instead of killing the Emperor, who was open to attack, she chose to deflect his blade, saving your life. The outcome was clear. You, Revan, were wounded, Meetra was unarmed, and I was exhausted from the fight with Yarri. We had no chance left against the Emperor... I did the only thing I could."
"Killed me and betrayed you," Meetra finished for the Sith.
Silence hung in the air. Revan pondered the information, trying to decide if this was a sufficient justification for Scourge.
"You said he saved my family. What does that mean?" Revan chose to clarify.
"Thanks to you remaining alive and able to influence Vitiate's mind, the Emperor didn't risk attacking the Republic for another three hundred years. Bastila and Vaner lived out their lives, avoiding the horrors of war. Scourge's choice gave you a chance to protect what was most precious."
Revan once again sank into thought. Conflicting emotions tore at him. On the one hand, everything was as Meetra said. Scourge gave him the opportunity to oppose the Emperor where his immortality and boundless power were useless. However... the arguments were rather weak. After all, everything could have turned out differently.
'No, don't lie to yourself, Revan,' the former Jedi advised himself mentally. 'Vitiate wouldn't have spared you. Remember the state you were in at that moment. Meetra and the Hutt traitor couldn't have handled it alone. You're only alive because the Emperor decided to test Scourge's loyalty by ordering him to kill you.'
"And when the Emperor finally decided to attack," Meetra spoke again, "Scourge did everything to find the one who would be able to stop Vitiate. And he found him."
"Found who?"
"The Hero of Tython," Scourge reluctantly confirmed. "Honestly, I don't even remember what gender he... or she... was. It doesn't matter. Neither the name nor the face is preserved in my memory. Only the epithet."
"It was a man," Meetra prompted. "His name was Kassen Dvar. A talented Padawan who quickly achieved the rank of Knight and confronted the Emperor while executing a very audacious plan to eliminate him."
"Kaseen... hmm, maybe Kassen," Scourge shrugged. "Almost four thousand years have passed. I remember there was a girl with him. One of the former cultists who served the Emperor. Desperate, though foolish."
Something didn't quite settle in the former Jedi's mind.
"Wait a second, are you saying you've lived for four thousand years?"
"Yes," Scourge nodded.
"How?"
"The Emperor's reward," the Sith spat out, grimacing.
"What did he do?" Revan frowned, already guessing the answer.
"He performed a ritual on me that granted me immortality and allowed me to quickly heal even fatal wounds."
"A ritual?" The former Jedi grew even gloomier, recalling Vitiate's devastated homeworld.
"No, not the abomination he wrought on Nathema," Scourge guessed Revan's thoughts. "The Emperor would not allow anyone to even approach him in power."
"I see," Revan nodded. "That's why you were able to live until our meeting... and withstand my blows?"
"Yes."
"But the pain? I pierced you several times where it hurts the most."
"Pain is my entire life," the Sith answered seriously. "I've felt it every second since that day."
"What do you mean?" Revan didn't understand.
"The ritual," Meetra explained. "The price of immortality is a continuous, never-ending pain felt by every cell."
"By the Force," Revan exhaled, realizing what he had just heard. "How do you live? How have you not gone mad yet?"
"When you live with pain day after day, year after year... you simply stop noticing it. The trouble is, you stop feeling everything else too. I don't taste food, I can't feel warmth from the touch of another being, I don't sleep, I only meditate," Scourge replied with poorly concealed anguish and weariness in his voice, showing true emotion that seemed to resurface with the memories. "As for madness... what makes you think I've kept my sanity?"
Revan couldn't find an answer.
"I've gone mad and pieced my mind back together countless times over these four thousand years. I wandered the galaxy, studying different aspects of the Force. I spent three hundred years on Korriban in continuous meditation, which was more like stasis. But what helped me was the ability to set a goal for myself."
"What goal?" Revan clarified.
"Not a specific one, no. Just a goal," the Sith shook his head. "Initially, to kill the Emperor. And when he was gone, I decided to accompany the Hero of Tython. Don't you remember? You met on Lehon."
The former Jedi shook his head.
"I barely remember those events, as if they didn't happen to me at all."
"Hmm. I see," Scourge nodded to his own thoughts.
"And what did you do next?"
"Many things," the Sith shrugged. "For a long time, I helped the Revanites."
"The whom?" Revan asked again.
"The Revanites. It's a cult that emerged when rumors leaked that the Emperor was holding a powerful Force adept prisoner to sustain his own life. Someone blurted out that this adept was actually a former Imperial agent who had become too powerful and returned to overthrow him. They even learned your name," the Sith smirked. "Thus arose the Revanite movement, which considered you the true Emperor, chosen by the Force, who had long since dealt with Vitiate and taken his place."
"Unbelievable."
"But true," Scourge chuckled. "They were captured and exterminated, but never completely eradicated. Their actions largely led to Vitiate's overthrow and the Republic's victory... though the Revanites themselves didn't seek that outcome."
Revan was surprised that his name had become a byword again. Following the Revanchists who left the Order, as the Council had dubbed them, now there were the Revanites.
"You said you covered for them?" Revan clarified.
"Yes," Scourge nodded. "I distracted the Imperial Security Forces. I framed overly zealous Lords who sought to investigate the cult's activities. I even directed a promising Sith to aid the Revanites, who later took my place as the Emperor's Wrath."
"The Emperor's Wrath?"
"Didn't I mention it?"
Revan shook his head.
"After the ritual, the Emperor made me his personal agent, independent of the Dark Council and subordinate only to his will. I was named the Emperor's Wrath, as I became his punishing hand, disregarding the power or status of any being displeasing to Vitiate."
"Executioner," Revan concluded.
"Mostly... but something more at the same time," the Sith shrugged. "In any case, I even joined the cult for a time until the Empire finally fell. Then I went to Korriban, where I spent three hundred years in the tomb of Ajunta Pall. It was an educational experience."
"The spirit of Ajunta Pall left the tomb, though," Revan recalled an episode from his own past.
"He freed himself from his chains, but did not leave," Scourge countered. "And what prevented him from manifesting again? You're seeing Meetra Surik here now. And she also left this world more than once. One could say she saved me, too."
"What do you mean?" Revan inquired.
Scourge looked at Meetra's face, and after her nod of permission, he continued his story.
"You have no idea what it's like to live in constant agony," the Sith said, rubbing the growths on his forehead. "To make matters worse, I began to be plagued by visions. I saw the Emperor torture you again and again, then drain your life force, preventing you from recovering. I saw Meetra, invisible to everyone, hovering nearby, supporting you and preventing your mind from fading."
"At first, I thought it was all guilt. I even decided that my sanity was finally leaving me until I realized that my visions were real. I don't know why, but the Force repeatedly sent me images from the past, present, and even the future, lifting the veil on many mysteries. And to this day, I possess this... cursed gift."
"But how is Meetra involved in this?" Revan didn't understand.
"About a hundred years after the ritual, I felt I couldn't live like this anymore. My mind was too exhausted. Pain, guilt, despair... I was barely holding on." Scourge spoke with unconcealed pain in his voice, letting down his guard and showing true emotion that seemed to resurface under the influence of the memories. "And then Meetra appeared to me. Her ghost."
"I felt he needed help," Meetra explained. "After his strike, we became bonded. Killer and slain, those Force bonds are as strong as the bonds between a Master and Apprentice. Even though they were established unconsciously, under the influence of regret."
"She saved me from myself," Scourge added.
"How?" Revan asked.
"She forgave me," the Sith answered, smiling almost imperceptibly. "And then she appeared to me many more times in visions and as a ghost, helping me restore my sanity when I was on the very brink."
Revan was impressed by such a revelation. He had no idea of the power Meetra Surik possessed. And how pure and unwavering her spirit was. She had found the strength to forgive the one who ended her life. She had managed to protect Revan from the Emperor. She had helped Scourge... Truly, all of Revan's deeds paled in comparison to this. He would have to try very hard to even approach the level of the one who was once his apprentice.
"I don't know if I could live like you, Scourge," Revan voiced his thoughts.
"What choice did I have?" the Sith chuckled. "Suicide?"
"Of course not," the former Jedi countered.
"Exactly," Scourge nodded. "To take one's own life is to surrender, to show weakness. A Sith cannot be weak! A Sith meets death in battle with their head held high. We are not those who quietly die, whimpering in a corner. That is the fate of weak-willed slaves."
The true nature of the Sith Pureblood surfaced again, returning Scourge to the arrogant expression Revan was used to.
"But it's not like I didn't try," Scourge hesitated slightly.
"What?"
"Death in battle," the Sith clarified. "I sought it."
Revan nodded understandingly. He was familiar with that feeling.
"It's just that not everyone is capable of killing me, correct?" Scourge smirked.
Revan recalled their fight and was forced to admit that it had not been easy. Scourge possessed exceptional skills, which he had obviously honed over centuries.
"Indeed," Revan nodded. "You are an impressive fighter."
"Your praise means much to me... Master," Scourge offered a brief bow.
"I am not your Master," Revan objected.
"You may not consider yourself one," the Sith waved dismissively, "but I always thought of you in that way. It was you who taught me foresight, even while captive to Nyriss. You showed me another side of the Force, taught me to use my emotions like no one else. You are my mentor, Revan. And nothing will change that."
This admission flustered the former Jedi. After all, he had only used Scourge to escape.
"I know that your goal was not to train me. I know you intended to escape with my help," Scourge said, as if reading his mind. "It changes nothing. I am grateful to you, Master."
Revan cleared his throat, trying to regain his suddenly lost composure. The Hutt Sith had thrown him off balance.
"Still, I didn't teach you to fence like that," Revan changed the subject. "What is that strange Shien? I've never seen the Fifth Form used that way."
"It's not Shien," Scourge shook his head. "Djem So, an altered version of it that appeared... let the Force give me memory... shortly before the Ruusan Campaign and the next war between the Sith and Jedi."
The meaning of what was said didn't immediately register with Revan. How many conflicts had Scourge witnessed in his long life? How many had he taken part in? How had he managed to remain in the shadows all this time?
It turned out Revan had spoken some of his thoughts aloud.
"The war between Light and Darkness never ends," Scourge answered the accidental question. "The struggle is always ongoing in one form or another."
"Balance must be found, sooner or later," Revan remarked.
The Sith nodded in agreement, then shook his head.
"I've seen too many conflicts to believe in a bright future, Revan." Scourge looked up at the ceiling, seeking support from the ancient arches or perhaps just gathering his thoughts. "I've seen the rise of the Dark Lords, and their inevitable fall. I have fought on the side of the Light, and I have killed the enemies of the Darkness. The galaxy has been shaken from side to side for millennia. It needs someone to point the way. But that is definitely not me."
"Nor me," Revan said, barely audible.
Meetra snorted, suppressing a chuckle.
"Don't be so hard on yourself," Scourge smirked. "However, this is not the reason I invited you to Dromund Kaas."
"It was you, after all?"
"It was me," the Sith nodded. "Though someone was trying to do it even before me."
"Who?"
"Someone named Sidious, heard of him?"
"We've met," Revan ground his teeth.
"He recently opened a path to Dromund Kaas, although they tried to keep it a secret. It seems he decided to subjugate the Prophets."
"The whom?" Revan asked again.
"There is a cult on the planet that appeared a little less than a thousand years ago. They settled in an ancient temple and preach a strange, in my opinion, doctrine about the Dark Side of the Force. A bunch of gullible idiots," Scourge contemptuously dismissed. "But we've strayed from the topic again. There will be time to discuss my long life and Sidious. I called you because the Force itself is in danger."
"What?"
"Many hundreds of years ago, I had a vision," the Sith explained. "Of a threat that will destroy our galaxy if we do nothing. Something is approaching our world from the depths of dark space. Something evil and ruthless, repulsive to the Force itself. No one will be saved from it."
"What is it?"
"The enemy."
"Who specifically?" Revan insisted on an answer.
"I cannot describe it exactly. You yourself understand that the Force rarely gives clear images. But I am sure of one thing: if we don't fight back, everyone will perish."
The phrasing was more than vague, yet there was no sense of deceit in his words. Scourge was confident in what he was saying. And the Force had hinted at something similar to Revan himself. Could all this be true?
"How much time do we have?"
"Not much," Scourge frowned. "A hundred years, no more."
"Not much is by your standards."
"Not much is by the galaxy's standards," Scourge countered. "Believe me, I've tried to prepare. More than once. I bet on the Dark Side, but Bane... the fool ruined everything, leading the Sith into the shadows. I tried to help the Light, but Ruusan disarmed the Jedi, tying their hands and feet. Neither side can prevail alone! That's why we need you! The one who has known both sides, who understands the Force like no other."
"I am just one person!" Revan hotly objected.
"Four thousand years ago, you were also alone! And that didn't stop you from turning the galaxy upside down! Destroying the Republic to make it stronger and prepare it to meet the true Sith Empire! You have no idea what you're capable of! I believe that you are the one who can find a way to unite the Light and the Darkness, so the galaxy can stand firm! So the Force itself can survive!"
Revan remained silent. He resisted the idea of his own exceptionalism, knowing he was not perfect and had made many mistakes. How could he take on such a responsibility?
The Chosen One...
The Jedi also clung to a prophecy about a Chosen One.
The Sith waited for the coming of the true Sith'ari and ultimately almost perished.
"And I believe in you, old friend," Meetra added.
"You don't understand what you're asking," Revan replied, trying to calm the whirlwind of emotions.
"No one does," Meetra shrugged. "But the task is no less important because of it. You'll come to this conclusion yourself. We are only saving time, of which there is already little left."
The former Jedi sighed resignedly.
"I already have one Chosen One around my neck."
"He is part of what is coming," Scourge spoke again. "Even without realizing it, you are already walking the predetermined path."
"Nothing is predetermined!" Revan snapped. "There is no destiny, there is..."
"The Force," all three finished the sentence in unison.
The echo of the three voices lingered in the throne room for several seconds, repeating what was said over and over.
All this time, Revan, like his two old acquaintances, remained silent. He had long understood that he hadn't just appeared in this world again for no reason. But comprehending the responsibility they were trying to place on his shoulders was not easy. And accepting it was even harder.
His entire past life had been spent saving the galaxy... and in the end, he lost everything. And this was his reward? A new campaign? He had only just gained hope of meeting... Or perhaps that was the plan all along...
"You understand that I can't give you an answer right now?" Revan asked.
"Of course," Scourge nodded.
"You are not obligated to agree at all," Meetra added. "But sooner or later, you will have to face the inevitable threat. Wouldn't it be better to prepare in advance?"
"You were always perceptive, Meetra," Revan smirked. "I'm used to trusting your judgment."
"I don't ask for blind faith. I never have," Meetra replied dryly.
"I know. Sorry if I offended you," the former Jedi raised his hands in a defensive gesture. "One question, if I may?"
"You didn't need to ask permission," Meetra shrugged. "What troubles you?"
"Bastila," Revan answered.
Meetra smiled warmly at her old friend. Though she and Shan didn't always get along, the Exile perfectly understood Revan's feelings.
"What do you want to hear?"
"Do you sense her in the Force? Is there a chance that she is also wandering somewhere as a Force Ghost?"
Meetra suddenly looked sad. She didn't want to upset Revan. Yet she couldn't lie.
"If she were a ghost, do you think anything would keep her from meeting you?"
Revan shook his head.
"I sometimes feel her presence in the Force. She is still waiting for you, preventing her personality from dissolving into the Great one."
"Then there is a chance," the former Jedi whispered.
"What?" Meetra didn't hear him.
"Nothing," Revan smiled back. "I will think about your words, but even if I take on the role of the Chosen One... I will need a lot of help."
"I will help," Scourge immediately interjected. "But on one condition."
"What is it?" Revan frowned.
"When everything is over, I will be dead," the Sith declared. "Whatever happens, after everything, I don't want to wander this world anymore."
Revan looked silently into Scourge's eyes for a few seconds. The ancient Sith's gaze betrayed the weariness accumulated over years of wandering and incessant agony. That alone was enough to agree.
"Alright," Revan answered curtly.
The Sith nodded in response, smiling faintly.
"But you alone won't be enough," the former Jedi reminded him. "If you recall, four thousand years ago, the Revanchists followed me. I had an army, a fleet... the Star Forge."
Suddenly, Scourge smirked.
"You have no idea how much you already possess."
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