Revan had been pacing the floor of the rather cramped cabin of the Dawn Eagle for over twenty minutes. His movements were smooth and measured, indicating that the former Jedi was not agitated, but rather focused. The initial flash of surprise, mixed with a touch of hope and joyful anticipation, had already passed. His mind had once again taken control of the young body, forcing Revan to recall the experience of his already lived life.
"So, let's clarify everything one more time," the ship's owner addressed the hologram of his long-deceased wife. "Are you absolutely sure that the disturbance in the Force was caused by her call?"
The holocron keeper nodded solemnly. However, traces of surprise and doubt still remained on her face. At Revan's command, the hologram changed the scale of the image to recreate the exact likeness of his beloved.
"It's hard to mistake your creator for someone else," the hologram repeated. "The call belonged to Bastila Shan. I am almost completely sure of it."
His wife's name made the former Jedi flinch. Nothing in this world did he want more than to feel her presence beside him again.
Revan approached the hologram closely and reached out his hand to the familiar face. How he wished he could embrace her and never let her go. But it was impossible. His fingers passed helplessly through the incorporeal figure.
"But, according to you, Bastila chose to become one with the Force," the ancient regained his composure.
The hologram turned its head, momentarily revealing a barely visible scar above its right ear, immediately hidden by hair. A mark left by Revan's lightsaber after their "reunion" aboard the Star Forge.
"That's precisely what my doubts are related to," the hologram nodded again.
"Could she have remained in this world as a Force Ghost?"
"Unlikely. At the time of my creation, she was firmly determined to go 'further' to one day reunite with you... at least in the Force," the holocron keeper smiled warmly at Revan.
These words caused a painful pang of conscience in the former Jedi's soul. Despite the message from his beloved and her forgiveness, he himself could not forgive himself.
"The chances that she returned to this world?" he asked with undisguised hope in his voice.
"It has never happened before," the Bastila double shook her head. "Those who have gone into the Force have not returned."
"But I returned," Revan objected.
"You never left completely, my love," the hologram smiled. "Your desire to live and fight has always been too strong. That's why you couldn't completely dissolve into the Force, like the perished masters. However, she... she would have..."
"These are just your assumptions," the former Sith interrupted the girl rather rudely, his amber irises flashing. "You are just an image preserved in a holocron. A fake that brings more pain than comfort."
Revan interrupted his tirade, ashamed of his own lack of restraint. When it came to Bastila, it became harder to control himself. The hormonal surges of the teenage body amplified his own feelings, which he did not always want to suppress. For the same reason, the former Jedi avoided communicating with the holocron, although he really wanted to talk to his wife, even if it was a "fake."
Revan wearily rubbed his temples with his fingers.
"Sorry," he said quietly. "What about the second call?"
The former Sith clearly remembered that two entities, completely unlike each other, had called to him. Moreover, he was sure that he recognized the second voice.
The hoarse baritone of an old friend, not distorted by the voice modulator he acquired after a failed attempt to play the role of Teacher.
Revan's memory flashed back to their brief duel, which occurred long before the former Jedi stole the Ebony Hawk and set off to save the galaxy from Darth Malak.
A flash of anger, amplified by the Dark Side, almost made him kill his best friend, who dared to challenge his right to leadership. However, at the last moment, Revan managed to shift the trajectory of his lightsaber, and Malak lost his lower jaw... not his head.
Even after regaining his memory, Revan often pondered what would have happened if he had succumbed to that momentary impulse? What would have happened if he had killed Malak? He would have been able to complete the formation of the Empire, avoided the "brainwashing," and would not have become a pawn of the Council again. Right?
But would he have been so sure of his own actions? Would he not have become a slave to the Dark Side with a completely destroyed will? A slave of the Force, consumed by greed. Greed for power, might, immortality... Like many ancient lords... like Vitiate.
Oh, Force, he could have killed Bastila! With his own hands! When her squad stormed the Obsidian, Revan was ready for battle. What could a foolish girl, who had not yet completed her training, oppose to him? To him! The one who had already comprehended many secrets of both the Light and Dark Sides!
In a way, he was grateful to Malak for his betrayal. Yes, he lost his Empire, as well as the opportunity to prepare the Republic for the return of the true Sith.
But he also gained a lot.
Bastila and Vaner were definitely worth it... and therefore the pain of their loss simply refuses to subside.
"Revan?" the hologram called, pulling the former Jedi out of his thoughts.
"Sorry, what?" he suddenly realized that the image of his long-dead wife had been saying something all this time, but he hadn't been listening.
"I said I didn't feel the second call," the hologram repeated. "Perhaps it was intended only for you."
"Or perhaps it was a figment of my imagination," Revan nodded grimly.
It initially seemed strange to him that the voice of the Dark Lord suddenly came from the territory of the Temple of the servants of the Light. Something was wrong here.
"I think I know where the first call came from," the illusory Bastila added.
The former Jedi looked up at her with interest. He had his own thoughts on this matter, but he didn't mind listening to the holocron's guess.
"It came from the archives," the hologram hinted.
"The Great Holocron?" Revan clarified, voicing his own thoughts.
Bastila nodded affirmatively.
The artifact, which now rested in the depths of the Jedi Temple on Coruscant, was the largest holocron created in ancient times and preserved to this day. The amount of information it stored was simply astounding. Vast archives of knowledge about the Great Force, lightsabers, techniques, and combat styles, which were supplemented with each generation of Jedi.
Revan perfectly remembered the awe the holocron evoked when he - still a young Padawan - was allowed to approach the artifact.
It was believed that the holocron revealed only the knowledge that the one who opened it was ready to accept. However, the former Jedi knew that the artifact was always ready to share more if one knew how to ask questions. That is why younglings, and even young knights, were most often accompanied by Archivists, to "protect" the impressionable minds of the students.
Over the millennia, the artifact had become such a powerful focal point of the Force that it could well serve as a conduit for Force ghosts or strong Force-sensitives desperately wishing to connect with someone. This would explain the call. Or rather, the fact that it was felt precisely from the Temple.
However, the situation was still strange. Experience told Revan that things couldn't be so simple. Everything connected to the Force couldn't be "simple."
"Thank you," he coldly threw at the holocron keeper and, with a brief exertion of will, forced the artifact to close.
More than anything, Revan hated it when someone tried to use the image of a person dear to him to lure him into a trap. Malak did so when he dragged Bastila to the Dark Side. Vitiate also used this, albeit not directly. However, the threat of invasion of the Republic, where Revan's wife and child remained, coupled with the "installation" from the Council, pushed the former Jedi to rash and hasty actions.
All this stirred up anger. Even this Hutt holocron with Bastila's illusion! A fake!
Revan exhaled loudly, channeling the rising wave of fury in the right direction, taking control of it and turning it into strength.
Perhaps it was not wise to go to the Temple in this state. But he could not wait.
A beeping sound of an incoming call was heard. The source was in the pilot's cabin.
"HK, how much longer?" the former Sith asked sharply, activating the intercom.
"Answer: We are approaching the temple quarter. Estimated time of arrival - nine minutes. The Temple control tower has given official permission for approach. Also, a contact request has been received from the Order's Grand Master."
"A call from Yoda?" Revan's thought flashed, "Could he have had a hand in what happened? He could! Absolutely! He clearly suspects Avner Wan's true identity, which means he knows about the connection to Bastila. Not to mention the incident with Malak. Influencing an ancient artifact of such power would be difficult. But... there's nothing impossible about it."
"Master?" HK called, receiving no answer.
"I'll talk to him from the cabin, transfer the call," Revan ordered, preparing himself for the conversation.
He couldn't show how much this Hutt call had thrown him off balance. Emotions were a double-edged sword. Let them get too close, and they would burn your soul. Let an opponent use them, and you've lost. And defeat is death.
Revan did not aspire to become one with the Force.
Mentally reciting the Jedi Code several times to set the right tone, the former Sith opened the communication channel with the Temple.
"Grand Master," he greeted the hologram of the green-skinned head of the Council with a slight bow.
"Knight Wan, I am glad to see you," the long-eared elder replied in his convoluted manner, "Your visit is unexpected, however. The message about the audacious ship's return came as a surprise."
"Certain circumstances have arisen, Master Yoda," Revan said politely, trying to detect a hint of falsehood or involvement in the recent events in the hologram's facial expressions and movements, "I need to visit the Temple Archives again."
"Archives?" Yoda nodded almost imperceptibly, "Seeking knowledge, are you?"
"Not exactly. Rather, answers."
"Wise words for a knight so young," Yoda said with a smile, "Our Archives hold much knowledge, but to find answers, much time may be needed."
The Masters of the Order had always been skilled at weaving verbal tapestries. And the current head of the Council was apparently a master of this. But the hints in his words were too obvious to ignore. The Grand Master suspected Avner's true age. And he was so crudely pointing out the need to stay in the Order.
"I am not ready to discuss my... involvement with the Order. Not this time," the former Jedi cut off.
If the head of the Council was surprised, he didn't show it.
"Then why are you here, hmm?"
The curiosity in the Master's voice was convincing. It was almost believable.
"I need access to the Great Holocron," Revan said directly, "Without escorts or supervision."
The elder was silent for quite a long time before answering.
"Such a thing is against the rules. I cannot allow it," he shook his head.
"I am not interested in the Order's secrets. My knowledge is quite sufficient. But there is something that only this artifact can help me with," Revan insisted, "I can swear on anything that my actions are not malicious and will not harm the Order."
"What is an oath worth from a name that is merely a mask," the green-skinned one squinted slyly.
"I keep my oaths," Revan said with a hint of steel in his voice, as if he were again knee-deep in water on Katarr.
The Grand Master nodded solemnly.
"This conversation is not for holocalls," the elder closed his eyes, "You will receive permission. But we must continue later."
"Without masks?" Revan clarified, a barely perceptible smirk on his face.
"You may take one with you. Isn't that so, hmm?"
"Thank you, Grand Master."
"It is not right to refuse help when it is needed," Yoda nodded, "The Temple doors are open for the Jedi."
Revan responded to the hologram with a respectful bow, following all the Order's rules.
Breaking contact, the former Jedi allowed his face to momentarily lose its pleasant expression. The Hutt's short, long-eared dwarf knew Revan's true identity and dared to use this information for his own purposes! Thoughts of his involvement were moving from vague guesses to the realm of unconfirmed facts. Someone was weaving a very dense net around the former Sith. For now, it didn't interfere, but it began to appear annoyingly often before his eyes. Some part of the ancient Force-sensitive's consciousness, the part closer to the Dark Side, refused to tolerate even the slightest threat against him. And the prospect of falling under someone's influence caused burning rage.
Reflecting on whether Yoda could not have felt the disturbances in the Force that inevitably must have arisen at the moment someone sent Revan a message through the Great One, the former Jedi put on his usual armor.
Grabbing his Mandalorian mask as well, the ancient left his cabin, heading towards his students.
Anakin and Maul were in the compartment designated as the ship's infirmary. The Zabrak had responsibly approached his teacher's order and examined Skywalker to the best of his knowledge and ability.
Having ascertained that the boy's life was not in danger, the Dathomirian injected him with a stimulant and left him to rest.
Revan bumped into him as he was leaving the medical bay.
"How is the boy?" his mentor asked first, feeling a slight pang of guilt for leaving his student, succumbing to a momentary impulse.
"There is no danger, Master," the Zabrak replied with a bow, "Almost everyone who begins to comprehend the Force at a later age experiences sensory shock."
Maul remembered how his head had almost exploded from the influx of sensations when Sidious roughly broke through his natural shields and opened his unprepared consciousness to the streams of the Force. How long he had been unconscious, the acolyte did not remember. He had been brought to his senses by his teacher... with a Force lightning strike. His former mentor had never been known for his humanity.
"Are you going somewhere?" the Zabrak asked, noticing the glint of armor under his mentor's cloak.
"Yes," Revan nodded, "I plan to visit the Jedi Temple again."
Maul squinted and licked his lips predatorily.
"May I accompany you, Master?" noticing his mentor's frown, the student hastened to add, "I know how to hide."
Revan seemed to ponder for a few moments, considering whether to bring an openly Dark apprentice with him.
"Not this time," the teacher shook his head, "You are to watch over the ship and be ready. Try to feel my presence in the Temple and track my movements. This will serve as good training for you."
"Yes, Master," the Zabrak bowed.
"But first, answer..."
"Master?"
"Did you feel a disturbance in the Force around the same time Anakin lost consciousness?"
Maul thought.
"I'm not sure," he frowned, "I don't... feel changes in the Force streams very well. I was only trained to hide my presence and sense my surroundings. However, I did feel something strange. Something cold and... frightening. As if I were again..."
"Finish," his mentor encouraged.
"As if I had returned to my former... teacher," the Zabrak literally hissed the last word through clenched teeth.
Revan nodded. More to his own thoughts than to his student's words.
"You are no longer under his power. Get used to it," he said grimly, "Go to the cockpit and relieve HK on duty."
"And the droid?"
"He will be sent on a separate mission."
"A mercenary?"
"That does not concern you yet," Revan cut off, "Just know that they will also not be on the ship for some time. R2 stays with you and Anakin."
"Of course, Master. As you command."
The mentor nodded and summoned the assassin droid and Tira Nomad to the mess hall. They were to work together again, which neither of them would be happy about.
The landing at the Temple went without complications or unforeseen incidents. Not wishing to linger longer than necessary, Revan left the Eagle's board forty minutes after landing, heading towards the entrance of the Order's sanctuary.
Guards stood at the entrance. Upon seeing the one who had recently scattered their colleagues in the Council hall like purrgil pups, and moreover, had wiped the floor with the Order's Masters, the guards tensed and gripped their lightsabers tighter. However, they did not move from their spots when Revan passed them under the high arch of the main entrance. The Grand Master's order was clear – this knight was forbidden to be touched. At least, as long as he did not exhibit overt aggression.
The former Jedi merely smirked at this behavior. In his time, the Guards had been more formidable opponents.
No one came to meet him this time, so Revan, without wasting time, headed quickly towards the Archives.
But he couldn't reach it peacefully. A familiar Mirialan woman came around the corner, engrossed in reading some text on a datapad. Not noticing Revan, she almost collided with him, but at the last moment, she felt something and looked up, focusing on the obstacle.
"Knight Wan?" her eyes widened in surprise.
The girl took a step back, experiencing an inexplicable flash of fear, but quickly suppressed this cold and slippery feeling. She remembered what the man standing before her had done in the Council hall. Such power and irresistibility, hidden by cold serenity in his emotional spectrum, she had encountered for the first time. The Force hurricane that had swept through the Temple then, without gushing Dark Side energy, but continuing to flicker with a barely perceptible warm light. That's how Luminara would describe her feelings when Knight Wan rushed out of the Council hall, allowing her to avoid an unnecessary battle. This man was dangerous. But at the same time, he was intriguing.
"Master Unduli," Revan greeted the woman with a smile.
"How... What are you doing here?" the Mirialan finally gathered herself, breaking free from her stream of thoughts.
"Master Yoda invited me for a conversation. And I was also granted access to the Temple Archives, where I was heading," the former Jedi explained, noting the girl's strange agitated state.
"Really?" she asked with genuine surprise, "But I thought... Although yes, the Grand Master did say that what happened at the Council was a misunderstanding, and you, Knight, are not our enemy."
Revan nodded with a smile.
"It is so."
"I apologize for my reaction," the Mirialan shook her head, trying to hide an inexplicable feeling of embarrassment, "I didn't expect to meet you here... after everything."
Revan raised his hand, urging Luminara to calm down.
"Don't continue. I understand perfectly well that seeing someone who recently wielded a lightsaber in these halls, and not for training purposes, is strange, to say the least."
"Exactly," the girl agreed.
"But, as you can see, I am here with the Council's permission," Revan indicated the Guards with a nod of his head, who were still posing like statues, "Otherwise, we wouldn't be conversing now to the measured rustle of the wind."
"How poetic," Master Unduli smiled, covering her mouth with her hand, "You won't mind if I walk with you to the Archives? I still need to return this datapad to Master Jocasta Nu."
"I don't mind. Shall we?"
"Trust, but verify, right?" Revan thought, "It will be safer to have an escort."
"Lead the way," the Mirialan nodded.
They walked in silence for some time. Revan had no desire for small talk, mentally preparing himself for the encounter with the ancient artifact and, possibly, with someone from his past. Luminara simply didn't know what to talk about.
They encountered groups of younglings hurrying to their lessons, knights walking leisurely about their business, and Masters lost in thought. The former Jedi scanned their faces without any particular purpose.
Another Jedi passed by. Judging by his face with deep wrinkles, one of the Masters. The narrow slit of his eyes and the graying short beard along his jawline gave his face an even more tired expression.
The man raised his eyes for a moment, glanced at the Mirialan, and greeted her with a nod. Then the Master looked at Revan. A spark of recognition flashed in the depths of his brown eyes, but the man did not stop, merely shaking his head.
To Revan's keen hearing, a fragment of a barely audible phrase reached him: "Not Mitzar... impossible..."
The former Jedi felt the Master stop somewhere behind him and now intently watching the ancient Force-sensitive's back. Revan pretended not to notice and continued walking beside the Mirialan.
"Who was that? One of the Order's Masters? I don't remember him at the Council," the former Jedi finally gave in to curiosity.
Unduli glanced behind her, searching for the one being discussed.
"That is Master Sifo-Dyas, he is a member of the Council, but he has been absent from the Temple for a long time," the Mirialan explained, "By the way, he was one of those who supported Qui-Gon and gave his consent for the remote acceptance of a certain knight into the Order."
"Really?" Revan asked sincerely.
Then it became clear where that shadow of recognition in the Master's eyes came from. Apparently, Jin had described the appearance of the Force-sensitive discovered on Tatooine in detail, or even provided a holophoto.
But at the same time, something subtly familiar emanated from Sifo-Dyas... almost родное. This was confusing. And it required additional information. However, if HK and Tira succeeded, the questions would be answered on their own.
Revan was saved from the question that was about to slip from Luminara's lips by the fact that they had already entered the Archives hall, and the Mirialan had to shift her attention to Master Jocasta Nu, who was clearly expecting visitors. Whom she was waiting for, Master Unduli, to pick up her borrowed datapad, or Knight Wan by Yoda's order, was hard to say. However, after a brief exchange of pleasantries, Revan was handed the key to the room with the ancient artifact and given instructions on how to behave. The former Sith merely smirked mentally, "As if I didn't know myself."
Luminara remained with the archivist, clearly surprised by the fact that Avner Wan was being allowed to go alone to the Great Holocron, but she did not dare to object. Jocasta's authority in the Archives was indisputable.
In the room where the artifact was located, there was a pleasant semi-darkness. Light mist swirled under the vaulted ceiling, diffusing the light from the few lamps. The golden polyhedron of the holocron hung like a colossal statue over an artificial pond with crystal-clear liquid in the center of the hall, held in the air by the Force itself. The patterns covering its walls glowed dimly, reflecting off the surface of the "water" and creating intricate glints on the white stone walls.
The artifact rotated slowly, emitting a low hum. And Revan could swear that somewhere on the verge of audibility, music was playing. He couldn't distinguish the instruments or make out the words... or if there were any words at all. However, the melody was definitely playing... and it was soothingly beautiful.
The Force permeated this place. Every stone, every grain of sand, every drop of water – everything was saturated with the Great Force. But there was something wrong, barely perceptible. And Revan quickly understood what it was. Light. There was too much of it. And it wasn't about the lighting. The Light Side was too strong in this place. The cloying monotony of the Force streams caused slight discomfort. The former Sith was accustomed to a more... vibrant Force, a balance of Light and Darkness.
However, what else could be expected from an artifact that had been stored for thousands of years in the heart of the Temple of the Light Side adepts. Even knowledge of the Dark Side, which was undoubtedly also present among the information stored in the holocron, could not sufficiently influence this place.
Revan cautiously approached the artifact via a narrow stone bridge. Directly in front of the polyhedron was a small elevation, forming a meditation platform. The former Jedi assumed a comfortable position and closed his eyes, slowly immersing himself in the streams of the Force.
"Who called me?" he mentally repeated the question.
He didn't know how much time had passed since the beginning of the meditation. Seconds stretched into hours, only to shrink back into a single moment.
But at some point, the ancient felt a presence.
"Revan," a voice sounded somewhere nearby.
The former Jedi opened his eyes. A female figure stood directly on the surface of the pond against the backdrop of the rotating holocron. Her face was hidden in shadow, but Revan recognized the outline of her silhouette instantly. He remembered every curve of her body, the floral scent of her thick chestnut hair, the sparkle of her always slightly sad, bottomless blue eyes. He remembered her. And he loved her.
Another glint, reflected from the water, passed across the face of the figure who had appeared near the holocron.
It was indeed her.
In the flesh. Not a semi-transparent Force ghost, but a living person.
"Bastila," Revan croaked almost inaudibly, swallowing the lump that had risen in his throat.
His mind told him it was impossible... but for one who had lost everything he had and everyone he knew, it didn't matter.
He got to his feet and slowly walked towards the woman he loved more than life. Sinking up to his ankles in the water, he trudged on, paying no attention to the cold of the pond.
"Hello, my love," his familiar voice sounded in the silence, "You've finally come."
"Bastila," he whispered, afraid of scaring away this hallucination.
The fragments of his rationality that still remained in his consciousness screamed that this was just a vision. People don't just come back to life!
Revan reached out and gently touched his beloved's face. He touched her! As soon as he realized this fact, his hands, without waiting for his master's will, embraced the fragile figure in a warm hug.
The Force surged with Revan's will, lifting them both into the air. It was Bastila! Bastila... Her familiar presence was clearly felt in the Force. Familiar... but slightly different.
The former Jedi peered into the face, familiar down to the last freckle.
Her gaze. Warm and... joyful?
His mind made another attempt to take control of his body.
"Pull yourself together," he commanded himself mentally.
No matter how happy he was to see Bastila, no matter how much he longed to be by her side again, he must not forget why he had come here.
He had been called here.
Why?
This was the question he voiced, shaking his head to clear his thoughts.
"Why did you call me?"
"Is there a reason needed to call a loved one?" "Bastila" asked in surprise, with a hint of offense in her voice.
"It's not every day that a dead person calls to a dead person," Revan still hadn't released the girl from his embrace.
"Not every love is so strong," she reached out to him, expecting a kiss.
But it was at this moment that the former Sith felt a familiar chill run down his spine. A sense of danger howled.
"Who are you?" Revan roared, pushing the girl away from him.
The familiar and so dear face contorted into a smile completely uncharacteristic of Bastila, causing the former Jedi to jump back and reach for his belt for his weapon. However, there were no sabers at hand. The hilts had simply disappeared from their usual place, and Revan realized he had fallen into a trap.
"You can't fool a loving heart, can you?" Bastila drawled.
"Who are you?" the ancient repeated, concentrating the Force around him.
Only now did he notice that, unlike himself, the girl stood confidently straight on the surface of the water. The fact that the liquid was under her feet, not solid stone, seemed not to bother her at all.
"What a hostile reaction. Unexpected," there was nothing familiar in the impostor's movements anymore, "Perhaps I should have chosen a different image?"
Bastila's features blurred, enveloped in a whitish haze. And in the next moment, a no less familiar figure stepped towards Revan, clad in light armor of the Republic army from the Mandalorian Wars. Scraps of Jedi robes were carelessly thrown over her shoulders, as if she had just returned from the battlefield.
"General," Mitra Surik greeted him.
His most trusted commander, after Alec, the one who carried out any order without a shadow of a doubt and was a loyal friend and comrade in the most difficult times. She stood before him now. Exactly as he remembered her.
Another illusion.
Revan pushed the girl back towards the holocron with a light Force push. An invisible barrier surrounded the Jedi in a dense cocoon, ready to repel a counter-attack. But there was none.
"No?" the impostor stretched her shoulders, getting to her feet, "Then this one?"
A step forward was taken by Master Jhar Lestin – the Twi'lek who had trained Revan in the enclave on Dantooine.
"Or will you strike me too, Padawan?" he asked with a smirk.
Revan felt rage boiling within him. Now it was appropriate. The Force was ready to erupt at any moment; it just needed an impulse.
A branched blue lightning with black reflections shot from his right hand, heading towards another double. A strike, a flash! And a new figure was rising to his feet instead of the Twi'lek.
"Is this how one should thank for returning to life?" the elderly woman with thick gray hair braided into two braids said in a commanding tone.
Revan couldn't help but recognize his teacher. But the fact that this was also just an illusion evoked only negative emotions.
"Isn't that what the one who summoned him here wants?" Revan thought. "To push him to the limit, shaking his emotions, forcing him to fall into a rage and turn to the Dark Side. To fall into Darkness? In the middle of the Temple? No, that's foolishness. The Light Side is so strong here that even balancing on the very edge, I will be able to hold on."
"Oh, I see you're starting to calm down?" the false Kreia said loudly. "Ready to talk?"
Revan used a Force vision to try to understand what was happening. It didn't feel like hallucinations. An illusion? He would have felt the impact on his mind. At least the slightest pressure. But there was none!
"A dream?" a guess suddenly came. "Or a vision?"
The vision, inherited from the Miraluka, confused him even more. There was nothing around... But in the place of concentration of the Great Force, everything should have been shining! Dazzling light with many shades should have made him cover his eyes with his hands, but it wasn't there. Or was it only Darkness around? Could someone be blocking his senses? But the Force was still clearly felt, and it obeyed without problems.
The disappeared lightsabers were alarming. And this change of masks... Even shapeshifters aren't capable of this.
So, it was still a vision, induced by someone while Revan was meditating. This means he just needed to break the meditative trance. But first, he should find out for what purpose he was called here... and by whom.
"Who are you?" the former Jedi repeated his question, simultaneously working on protecting his consciousness. "And why did you call me here?"
"You always strived for knowledge, my young Padawan," the fake Kreia smiled. "You always wanted to get answers to your questions. No matter the cost. Isn't that the pursuit that led you to the Star Forge? Didn't it turn you into Darth Revan?"
"Don't try to evade the question," the former Sith demanded. "Answer!"
A shadow of irritation flashed across the false mentor's face. But it was almost instantly replaced by a slight, condescending smile.
"Me?" the woman laughed. "I am the Herald of the Force! The embodiment of its will!"
Revan slightly raised an eyebrow, surprised by the imposter's words. He expected this turn of events the least.
"For thousands of years, I have changed many names. Once, I was called Ashla," the impostor continued. "Those like me appear during periods of extreme imbalance towards the Light or Darkness, when the Force itself is in serious danger. Like now, for example."
"Let's assume so," Revan replied dryly. "Why are you taking the form of people from my past?"
"To facilitate our contact, of course," the "Herald" shrugged. "I can become anyone who has merged with the Force."
"Alright," the former Jedi nodded, accepting the strange explanation. "What is this place?"
"You noticed?" the impostor smirked.
"Of course," Revan looked at his hands. "My body has become as I remember it again. At first, it wasn't so noticeable, and I didn't immediately realize that I had become the same height as you. But still. This means we cannot be in the real world. So, where are we?"
"This... can be called a vision. A connection established through the Force that brings your mind to my halls. A place where I am the Force itself."
Revan gritted his teeth. What he was hearing did not please him at all. What was most alarming was that he truly felt he had no power in this place. However, the Force still obeyed him. This meant that whoever this "Herald" was, he would be able to resist her.
"And why do you need me?" Revan asked a new question.
"The Force calls to you and asks for help."
"The Force?"
"Yes," the impostor nodded. "The very existence of the Force is under threat."
"Why should I believe you?"
"Don't you feel it yourself? The monstrous imbalance? The weakness of the Jedi, the self-destruction of the Republic, the suffering of trillions of sentient beings! All this is just a consequence of leaning too far in one direction. Light without Darkness fades!"
No matter how much he wanted to dismiss these words, there was a grain of truth in them. The galaxy had indeed changed greatly over the millennia. It was as if everything around had suddenly become stale, the air had grown heavy, the stars had lost their brightness, and the inhabitants of the Republic had suddenly forgotten how to understand each other. The growing number of contradictions, conflicts flaring up here and there. Could this really be a consequence of disturbances in the Force?
...
"Quite possibly," the former Jedi thought.
"You know I'm right," the "Herald" pressed.
"And what do you want from me?"
"For you to turn the galaxy upside down again!" the false Kreia said, her eyes flashing with madness.
"What?"
"Do what you do best – change the world around you! Crush the Republic, revive the Empire, pull the Dark Side from oblivion! Take the power that rightfully belongs to you into your own hands! Become the embodiment of the Force! Restore balance..."
The ancient could not believe his ears. He was being asked to... side with the Sith? Or even take on the role of the mythical Sith'ari?
"You are insane," Revan replied slowly.
"Kreia" changed her appearance, turning back into Bastila.
"Am I?" she asked in a voice that was painfully familiar. "Am I saying such terrible things?"
Revan remained silent.
"Won't fulfilling the will of the Force be a worthy payment for a new life?"
"I didn't ask for it," the former Jedi said in a firm voice.
"But wouldn't you want to bring me back too?" Bastila looked up and met the gaze of the ancient Force-sensitive directly.
Oh, he would want that more than anything in the world. But he had lived too long not to understand that nothing comes for free. And when you are offered what you want most... it's a trap.
But... some traps can only be escaped by going through them.
"While cutting out the heart of the one who dared to set it!" the ancient Sith lord roared mentally.
"And where do I begin?" Revan asked, his golden irises flashing.
The impostor beamed with a radiant smile, bestowing a loving gaze upon her chosen one.
For the first time, Bastila evoked disgust in him... No, not Bastila. Someone who didn't even realize the size of the rancor he had just poked.
"The Republic has rotted to its core, and its citizens are suffering. But soon, there will be resistance. Go to Muunilinst. You will get answers there."
"And Bastila?"
"She is here," the impostor smiled. "Having become one with the Force, she became a part of me. And I can return."
The being speaking to Revan now had obvious identity issues. Sometimes she spoke of herself as a Herald, and sometimes she acted as if she were the person whose form she had currently taken.
"We will be together again," "Bastila" smiled, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear.
The surroundings began to fill with a whitish fog, blurring the outlines of objects and hiding the figure of her interlocutor from view. The last thing Revan noticed was the absence of a scar on the impostor's head.
Revan felt something trying to push him out.
When suddenly his body was seized by cold. The world around him darkened, and somewhere behind him, a too-familiar voice, distorted by a prosthesis with a built-in vocabulizer, rang out.
"You weren't planning on leaving without saying goodbye to me, Revan?"
"Malak," the former Jedi exhaled, turning towards his old sworn enemy.
The next moment, he had to fall sharply to his knees, arching backward to let the scarlet blade flying towards his head pass over him. Jumping to his feet, Revan was again forced to dodge the attack. The roll was interrupted by a Force push, which, however, the experienced fighter managed to parry, absorbing some of the energy for a counter-attack.
Malak took the lightning bolt on his blade, deflecting the stream of crackling death into the wall. Behind the flash of his own discharge, Revan almost missed his opponent's sudden lunge. He was saved only by a Force push, which allowed him to deflect the blood-red blade with his bare hand. However, a burn remained on his palm.
If this was another illusion or vision, it was far too realistic.
Malak moved fast, faster than Revan remembered. And his movements... the style was familiar, but Alek certainly didn't use it.
"Another hutt-made fake," the former Jedi cursed mentally.
Fighting without a lightsaber was difficult. He desperately needed a weapon.
And then, during another rush, Revan didn't immediately notice that something had changed. He felt the familiar weight of a lightsaber hilt on his belt!
Whether he managed to control this illusion or break free from it, it didn't matter much to him. Because now he could show his full potential.
A streak of silver blade, and the blades clashed with a screech, forcing their owners into a clinch.
"Finally!" Malak roared. "I thought you'd be stuck there forever!"
"What?"
"It wasn't easy to break through to you!" the sworn enemy rasped with laughter.
The opponents sharply parted, breaking contact, and froze in the basic Juyo stance. And if for Revan this was a habitual action, then seeing Darth Malak in this position was unexpected.
The former Jedi again used his Force vision and looked at his opponent.
"You are not Malak," he concluded. "Then who are you?"
"It doesn't matter now," the next impostor said slowly. "What matters is what I have to offer."
Revan snorted in response.
"Another offer to gather an army and take over the galaxy? And who are you? Another herald? What should I call you? Bogan?" he asked mockingly, without lowering his saber, however.
The fake Malak burst into laughter.
"No, I am no herald of the Force, and certainly not an embodiment of the Dark Side. But about the offer... you're right... almost. An army will be needed, that's undeniable. And the galaxy will have to be taken over as well. However, I thought you would help me do it."
"Why would I help a stranger?"
"Because I, unlike the one who trapped your consciousness in a Force-induced vision, am not going to hide behind fairy tales. I offer an alliance. One that benefits both of us."
"And what's the benefit for me here?" Revan asked warily, carefully masking the notes of interest in his voice.
"To regain what was lost," Malak replied simply.
The Force in the hall stirred so much that the impostor staggered, almost dropping his saber.
Revan had enough of this moment to close in on his opponent and knock the lightsaber hilt out of his hands.
"Speak," the former Jedi pressed the saber, blazing with silver flame, to Malak's throat.
"Not here and not now," the sworn enemy shook his head.
"Where?"
"Dromund Kaas," the impostor replied, before dissolving into insubstantial mist.
"Wait!" Revan tried to grab his opponent in vain.
And a moment later, he opened his eyes and realized that he was still sitting before the Great Holocron in an empty hall. There were no traces of anyone's presence nearby.
The ancient Force-sensitive slowly stood up and stretched his stiff shoulders.
He had not received answers to many questions. A major game was being set up, in which there would be at least two leading players. And both wanted to pull Revan to their side. Their identities remained a mystery, but the former dark lord had some thoughts on the matter.
One thing he was sure of... THEY WOULD PAY FOR USING HER AS A BARGAINING CHIP!!!