"Survival lessons in the wilderness" was the first thing Mandalorians taught when foundlings reached an acceptable age.
"Manual for survival" - a book whose knowledge was required of every student at the Chiss Dominion military academy.
Skills in orienteering, a brief course in speleology, a manual for survival on unknown planets in case of a shipwreck, all the mercenary's accumulated experience... - all of it proved useless. At least, such thoughts solidified in Tira Nomad's mind as she thoughtfully examined the sparkling walls of the crystal cave... completely not understanding where she was and how to get out.
She woke up here... under the crystalline vaults of the cave a little over an hour ago. And no matter how hard she tried to understand how she ended up inside this cursed labyrinth, what had happened remained a mystery...
The last thing she remembered was a conversation with that Mirialan Jedi. She had to make up a legend on the fly. Fortunately, Tira remembered stories about the "Dark Saber," which had become almost a replacement for the "Mask of Mandalore"... Then something vague about going further into the caves... the shimmering of some crystals and an obsessive desire to take one more step... and another... and another... Then darkness.
"How did I get myself into this!?" Nomad kicked a crystalline formation resembling a stalagmite with feeling, causing it to shatter into a fan of fragments.
It seemed that not everything here was as strong as the walls, which managed to withstand a vibroblade strike and even a blaster shot. The latter, by the way, turned out to be spectacular. A ricochet in a confined space, what could be better? The Hutt walls, covered with crystals and ice, as it turned out, perfectly reflected shots, like the best force shields.
Orienteering failed before the smooth crystals underfoot, as did all the tracker's skills. Even speleology with cursed caves couldn't help.
After an hour of wandering through corridors illuminated only by the dim glow of crystals and, it seemed, the reflected light of the local star, Tira could not understand in which direction to move... or even how deep she was in the caves? The light gave hope that she was still not far from the exit, since it was unlikely that even reflecting off hundreds of smooth crystals, light from outside could penetrate deeply. With each refraction and reflection, the beam should have lost energy...
But that was under normal conditions! Here, mystical Force intervened! It could easily make the local walls "perfect mirrors"! And Revan had warned about the dangers that this mysterious energy held. It could even get into your head, sending illusions and visions... literally! So she had to get out of this place urgently!
But the exit had to be somewhere, right?
And where did this obsessive feeling come from that she was looking for something here? Why? What?
Her thoughts tangled, refusing to line up in an adequate order. Tira felt panic rising, held back by the last remnants of self-confidence.
Tira looked at her hands, hidden under the armor gloves.
"I'll be able to get out of here," she said to herself, wanting to strengthen her will.
"Well, that depends on where you were planning to go next," an unfamiliar female voice sounded from behind her.
Nomad dodged to the side and down, drawing her blaster in a tumble. Taught by bitter experience, Tyra didn't immediately open fire. She'd had enough of the last game of "dodge the mad bolt."
The owner of the voice turned out to be a tall woman in a snow-white robe, reminiscent of Jedi attire. Her light, silver-tinged hair was pulled back into a bun at the nape of her neck, giving her appearance a certain severity. Her blue eyes, however, were fixed directly on Tyra and looked... appraising and... amused?
"Fast, that's good," the stranger said, her lips curving slightly in a semblance of a smile.
"Who are you?" Nomad demanded, keeping her blaster trained on the unknown figure.
"You probably won't know the name of a Jedi, especially one who's... hmm, retired long ago. But fine, I'll introduce myself. My name is Meetra Surik."
The stranger made a polite half-bow, which even an Aristocra in the Dominion would have appreciated.
The mercenary had heard this name before. Revan had mentioned her, she thought. But... then this woman should have been dead long ago? Unless...
"Are you a ghost?" Nomad asked warily, recalling Revan's stories about his past.
"You could say that," Meetra nodded in agreement. "But don't you want to introduce yourself? Otherwise, our conversation will be reduced to exchanging pronouns without any meaning."
The Mandalorian had never encountered such a manifestation of the Force before. However, to her own surprise, Tyra felt no fear. There was no threat emanating from the one who called herself Meetra Surik.
"Tyra Nomad," the Mandalorian replied to the greeting, rising to her feet.
The blaster was still in her hand, but it was no longer pointed at the "Jedi."
"A pleasure to meet you," Meetra smiled.
"Why are you here?"
"Curiosity," Surik shrugged.
"What?"
"I became curious to see the one Revan took as a student. I was in your place myself, though in a more turbulent time," the Jedi from a long-gone era shrugged.
Nomad felt uneasy. The situation itself was hard to comprehend. She was currently communicating with a ghost... that is, essentially, with the spirit of a long-dead person... Not that the Chiss or Mandalorians were religious, but they revered their ancestral spirits, albeit in their own way. Almost every people had their own beliefs to some extent. But it was unlikely anyone had ever had the chance to talk to one of them like this.
"You seemed to be looking for a way out?" Meetra recalled.
"And you said something about it depending on my desire," Tyra added grimly.
"That's right," the fair-haired companion agreed.
"What does that mean?"
"Only what you'll understand yourself... Oh, sorry. I'm starting to sound like Master Zhar," Meetra laughed at the end.
Tyra didn't know how to react.
"I'll try to explain it more simply. You ended up here for a reason, that's a fact. The Force doesn't recognize chance or luck. Everything that happens, happens for a reason."
"I don't remember how I got here. I must have... lost consciousness," Nomad said warily.
"Or you fell into an illusion. That's also possible," Surik shrugged.
"And how do I get out?"
"Understand why you came here?" Meetra answered with a question.
Tyra didn't like such an answer. She could have figured that out herself. But what was required of her? To find something? Like that damned crystal that little Skywalker rushed headlong after? Or was something else needed? For example, "know yourself"? That was also a vague concept... Tyra had been trying to understand who she was and who she wanted to become her whole life.
"Well, sitting in one place won't get you anywhere. As a friend of mine used to say, 'apathy is death'," Surik suddenly stretched, straightened her shoulders, and confidently walked down the cave tunnel.
"Where are you going?" Nomad asked, startled.
"These caves, contrary to legends, are not endless. Sooner or later, we'll find a way out," the ghost shrugged.
"But Revan warned that we need to get out before sunset!" At this, Tyra glanced at the small display on her left wrist, where the time had just been brought up with a couple of taps.
There were only an hour and a half left until sunset!
"Then we'd better hurry if you don't want to become one of those who... lost themselves," Meetra nodded, indicating one of the semi-transparent walls of ice and crystals.
Tyra followed Surik's gaze and froze for a moment. Somewhere deep within the wall, behind a thick layer of bluish ice, a dark silhouette of a humanoid was clearly visible. Obviously, frozen solid into the local "decor."
"So, let's go. It's not for nothing that I'm here too," the Jedi shrugged.
"But you said it was out of curiosity..."
"And my curiosity doesn't arise by chance either," Meetra smirked.
Tyra didn't believe in the mysticism that surrounded all the stories about the Jedi. Even when observing the abilities of Revan and other gifted individuals on board the "Eagle," and now the "Obsidian," she preferred to view the Force as another tool that could be used in combat. Like another armor upgrade.
And now the Chiss-half-blood was in turmoil. Before her was a ghost... And there was no doubt about it – Meetra's foot had just passed through another stalagmite without resistance. But just a moment before that, the "ghost" had run her palm along the cave wall with a distinct sound... even the frost on the ice surface appeared where she touched it. How was this possible? What was happening?
Maybe this was all a dream? A terrifyingly realistic one...
"This is not a dream. Not even a vision," Meetra interrupted Tyra's thoughts.
"Are you reading my mind?" Nomad exclaimed indignantly and slightly frightened.
Surik shook her head negatively.
"All your emotions are readable in the Force. And let's switch to 'you,' even my students didn't use 'you' with me," the Jedi suggested.
"And how many did you teach? I mean, how many did you teach?" Catching her companion's grim look, Tyra quickly corrected herself.
"Enough. It was... difficult to find Jedi masters at that time," Meetra shrugged once again.
They walked in silence for a while. Tyra kept wanting to ask something, but stopped herself at the last minute. She was interested in questioning another Jedi Master who knew Revan. She wanted to learn more about her mentor himself and how he taught. This could be useful.
"Hmm, yes, I think I understand now what interested him so much," Surik suddenly said.
Nomad suddenly realized that her companion had been looking at her for some time.
"What?" Tyra asked again.
"What attracts Revan to you so much. And, perhaps, it will even explain your presence here," Meetra thoughtfully rubbed her chin.
"And what is it?" The mercenary became interested in what Revan's former student had seen in her.
Surik pondered and looked around the walls with interest.
"Yes, it's better to show you. After all, the place is perfect for it. Everyone constantly forgets that, first and foremost, these caves are a place of Force concentration, not just a block of ice with shimmering pebbles," the ghost touched the cold wall with her hand again.
"What are you..."
Tyra didn't finish speaking, as she was forced to fall silent abruptly and prepare for battle. The surroundings began to change rapidly. The crystalline walls lost their tangibility and became transparent, allowing her to see a gray stone plateau behind them... scorched earth, sparse, burnt trunks of once mighty trees...
A sinister howl, chilling to the bone and heralding imminent death, broke the silence of the cave. Tyra had only heard this sound in old holorecords...
Raising her head, Nomad, with reverent horror, observed a diving "Basilisk" combat droid. The pride of Mandalorian engineers. A deadly semi-sentient machine that instilled terror in the hearts of enemies with its mere appearance. The appearance of a squad of such droids on the battlefield could drastically change the course of the entire battle... But, it seemed, not this time.
Before the "Basilisk" could get even fifty meters closer to the surface, a stone block, no smaller than itself, flew into it at high speed, turning the combat machine into twisted wreckage. The pilot barely managed to jump off the dying robot, an instant before the collision... only to be impaled by a purple lightsaber that arrived after the block.
Tyra found herself in the middle of a battle on an unknown planet. And on one side, Mandalorians were fighting... only very ancient ones. Such armor was used during the time of the Neo-Crusaders and Mandalore the Ultimate. Explosions and furious shouts were heard everywhere, often accompanied by the groans of the wounded and the sounds of heavy blasters. Artillery fired from somewhere in the distance. Sparkling bursts of contained antimatter and plasma in a magnetic field rained down on the approaching armored vehicles. Republic soldiers in light duraplast armor took up positions on the heights and in small craters left by proton bombs. The Mandalorians advanced, dominating the sky in their "Basilisks," but were in no hurry to approach the few figures with lightsabers flashing here and there on the battlefield.
Meanwhile, the purple blade returned to its owner, and Tyra saw... Revan. In almost the same armor and a black, night-like cloak as he wore now, and with the same mask hiding his face. He fought fiercely with her kin, deflecting their shots and sword strikes from several directions at once. The Mandalorians couldn't boast the same set of hidden weapons as Tyra and her comrades, because in those times the Neo-Crusaders used heavy and durable armor, relying more on impenetrable protection than on cunning. But Revan, it seemed, didn't care about protection. His sword unerringly found weak points in the armor, and with almost every strike, he ended a new opponent's life.
"Sergeant! Turn on the anti-aircraft guns already, damn it!" the man in Revan's mask roared in an unfamiliar, lower voice.
"Yes, General!" replied one of the Republic soldiers.
"Squad to position Aurek-4, cover the retreating Second Regiment with fire... what's left of it," Revan finished the phrase a little quieter...
"Revan!" a shout rang out.
Tyra turned towards the source of the voice. A woman in a light brown robe, worn over duraplast armor, hurried towards the legendary Republic general. Tyra recognized her – it was Meetra Surik herself.
Deflecting several shots with a blue lightsaber on the move, Meetra found herself behind this... Revan. Without a word, they stood back to back and acted so cohesively that Nomad couldn't help but admire this truly beautiful sight.
"What are you doing here?" Tyra heard, despite the considerable distance to the deadly duo.
The sound seemed to come from everywhere at once, allowing the mercenary to hear every heavy breath of the already exhausted fighters.
"Comms are down. Fett's forces took out four relay nodes simultaneously and shot down our scout ship. Short-range comms are jammed. So, communication is only by couriers," Surik said, fending off another shot.
"And one of my generals volunteered as a messenger?" Revan smirked, pulling a pilot of a passing "Basilisk" towards him with the Force.
"A competent adjutant is hard to find even in daylight!" Meetra joked, but immediately continued in a serious tone, "The right flank is broken, your Ninth Legion is being surrounded from the west. Alec is holding the height to the east, but with difficulty. My detachments have moved to reinforce the positions of the Sixth and Third Legions. What Kai is doing, I have no idea. The last message from her headquarters was about reinforcements arriving from Rendili more than three hours ago."
"And did you send a messenger to her?"
"Yes, he didn't return," Surik reported.
"Bad. Without communication, the fleet will act according to the backup plan. We don't even know what's in orbit. Karat won't abandon his positions, Saul is too stubborn for that."
"Tanks!" Meetra exclaimed, warning Revan of the danger.
At least two dozen machines emerged from behind the hill...
"Like the history lesson?" Surik's voice suddenly rang out beside her, and all the sounds of battle suddenly quieted.
Tyra turned and saw that Meetra's ghost was standing next to her again, watching the unfolding scene with interest.
"This is the Battle of Corvus-3. The Mandalorian Wars. If I'm not mistaken, the second year after the Revanites joined the war on the Republic's side," the ghost explained. "Beyond those hills is the planet's largest spaceport and the main ground operation stronghold. The fate of the entire invasion of Corvus was decided in this battle."
"Is this... a vision?" Tyra clarified.
"Not quite ordinary. Something like an illusion built on my memories. Normally, you can't pull this off, but in places saturated with the Force, like crystal caves, anything is possible."
The battle was still ongoing, but now Tyra didn't feel like she was right there on the battlefield, but rather observing everything through the transparent cave walls...
Revan and his troops were retreating, moving closer to the hills where more fortified positions were located.
"Why are you showing me this?" Tyra asked.
"Because of her," Surik pointed to a new active character.
Several Republic transport ships appeared over the battlefield, dropping two dozen walkers, resembling giant beetles in shape, onto Revan's positions. A speeder bike with a single rider maneuvered among the transports. Or rather, a rider.
A woman with short-cropped, wheat-colored hair broke through directly to the Mandalorian armored vehicles and, jumping off her bike, literally crashed into one of the tanks, leaving a huge dent in the armored plating and causing the wheeled vehicle to bury its nose in the ground. Clearly the work of the Force. A pair of golden blades flashed in the woman's hands. The chaos she sowed among the Mandalorians was simply indescribable. Her blades seemed to be everywhere, striking down soldiers on the tank armor, severing wheel axles, damaging weapons, and preventing the enemy from even touching their owner.
"This is Arren Kae. At one time, she was Revan's mentor. Extremely talented with a sword and master of all seven forms. Only Revan could compare to her in combat. That day, she saved us all by sending reinforcements in time and striking the Mandalorian rear, who were trying to surround our positions."
"What happened to her? And how is she related to me?" Tyra asked, not yet grasping the connection.
Meetra sighed.
"Arren Kae disappeared during the Battle of Malachor V. Officially, she is considered dead, although her body was never found... and couldn't have been found after the use of the Gravitational Shadow Generator. Her ship was among those destroyed by the attack of that cursed superweapon..." Meetra clenched her fists, trying to suppress the emotions that surged with the memories.
The surroundings shimmered, as if trying to disappear or change, but remained in place.
Surik exhaled.
"Answering your second question... it's worth looking at one more thing."
Now the battlefield around truly melted away like an ethereal mist, giving way to the icy walls of the cave... which a moment later were replaced by steel bulkheads and sheets of internal ship plating? Yes, it was definitely a ship. Tyra inexplicably felt the vibration of the floor, typical of small transports. There must have been an engine room and a hyperdrive nearby.
As if out of thin air, two female figures appeared in the room. They wore almost no clothes, except for underwear and cloth bandages on their arms – to the elbow and legs – to the knees. In one of the women, Tyra recognized Meetra, but the other was unknown... although some facial features looked familiar. The stranger had pale skin, snow-white hair, and eyes with silver irises, indicating that the girl's ancestors were definitely Echani. Most half-breeds of this race inherited the silver eyes characteristic of those from Eshan, while skin and hair pigments were discolored. Tyra knew this well, as she herself showed similar changes compared to pure-blooded Chiss...
Could it be...
"This is Brianna," the ghost of Meetra Surik spoke again, appearing to Nomad's right.
The figures of the women, meanwhile, engaged in unarmed combat. And it was beautiful. Smooth but precise movements, sharp transitions and strikes – a true dance of combat. Tyra had spent a lot of time studying Echani culture in her time. According to Echani beliefs, you can only truly know another by fighting them. The combat art of this race developed not only as a means of self-defense but also as a form of self-expression and communication. All representatives of the race looked alike, which caused difficulties. Therefore, reading body language and movements was a necessary skill for life in Echani society. Also, those from Eshan could read feelings and emotions during combat. For them, a fight between two sparring partners was more eloquent than a long conversation. They saw a certain purity in the methods of applying combat techniques... A captivating spectacle.
Tyra was pulled from her thoughts about the beauty of the Echani combat dance by Meetra's voice.
"Brianna's father was Republic General Yusanis. He was of the Echani people. And her mother was the already known Arren Kae, even before the Mandalorian Wars began. I accidentally met Brianna on Telos after her parents' death. She tried to follow the Echani teachings and took an oath of service to Atris – one of the last Jedi who survived the 'purge' organized by the Sith Triumvirate, who unleashed a new war after Revan's disappearance in the Unknown Regions... but that's for another time. For now, we are interested in Brianna, who became my student."
The women fighting in a training match froze, as if someone had stopped a holorecording. Ghost Meetra took a step forward, approaching her copy and her opponent.
"You are familiar with the Echani peculiarity, aren't you? That their children inherit ancestral traits so precisely that they look like twins? Brianna had several other sisters, but their mother was a different woman. That's why she looked different and was somewhat of an 'outcast' among her sisters. Along with her appearance, Brianna inherited her mother's strength of spirit, as well as talent in handling weapons. I probably haven't had a better student. She grasped everything on the fly and, even starting training at an adult age, when the mind is already harder to adapt to working with the Force, she managed to reach heights that other Masters of the Order, who started training as younglings, did not achieve. Accustomed to training with a staff, Brianna quickly mastered its light version and became a truly strong warrior, which helped me deal with the Sith Triumvirate," Meetra continued.
The scene changed again, showing the Echani half-breed in traditional Order robes with a lightsaber staff hilt at her belt.
"She helped restore the Order, becoming one of the Masters of the new Council, but could not serve on it longer than necessary. Having raised a single Padawan, she retired to the Confederacy of Six Sisters, wishing to continue studying Echani culture, since she could fully embrace her mother's legacy."
Tyra began to understand where Surik was leading.
"You mean to say that I..."
"Look closely and you'll understand," Meetra shrugged.
The cave was around them again, but now, besides Tyra and Surik, two more female figures were present in the tunnel of ice and crystals. Their faces were similar, as if they were sisters. Arren Kae and Brianna.
At first, Nomad couldn't understand what she was supposed to see... but the more she looked at the faces of the past Jedi, the more she found in common... with herself. No, she wasn't their copy... but the shape and cut of her eyes, the line of her cheekbones, her slightly upturned nose – she saw all this every time she looked in the mirror.
But this couldn't be considered proof of kinship, right? There were tens, if not hundreds, of generations between them! There could be no talk of kinship!
"I understand what you're thinking. But the Force defines heirs for a particular gifted person differently. Genetic ties play a very small role here, although they increase the chances of inheriting certain talents or traits. For example, the children of a strong Force-sensitive may not inherit Force sensitivity, but their descendants may well manifest talents after several generations. This happened with Revan and Bastila. Vaner Shan, by whose name Revan himself now often introduces himself, was their son with Bastila. He, alas, did not inherit a connection to the Force, which, however, did not prevent him from becoming Chancellor of the Republic and an outstanding personality. Which, incidentally, indirectly confirms the theory that the Force watches over the children of its adepts, even if they themselves are unable to invoke it. So, don't be quick to dismiss kinship, even if your connection spans thousands of years," Meetra chuckled at the end.
"So, is that why I developed... abilities?" Tyra asked the question that was important to her.
Meetra understood what Nomad was asking without clarification. Her connection to the Force, and specifically Battle Meditation. Surik hesitated, clearly deciding what and how much to tell. And whether to tell at all.
"You see... this area of Force study still holds many mysteries. I don't know how it happened, but in you... I feel... how best to put it, some echoes of a person I knew in life. And I think it's not just the resemblance to Arren Kae that confuses Revan... Rather, even he hasn't noticed the traits of his former mentor in you yet," Meetra chuckled lightly at the end of the sentence.
"Then what is it?" Tyra paid no attention to the laughter, remaining focused and catching every word.
"The thing is, he relies more on feeling in the Force than on appearance. It's a reflex developed over years, and it's not easy to overcome. And then there's the legacy of a new body, whose ancestors include Miraluka, who see the world only through the Force..."
Meetra faltered. Her face furrowed, but soon the ghost's eyebrows rose, as if Surik had just realized something.
"A Miraluka half-breed... Is everything so closely connected..." the ghost muttered.
"Meetra?" Nomad called, still waiting for an answer to her question.
"Yes, sorry. I suddenly realized something so obvious that I felt ashamed. But it doesn't concern you, don't worry."
Tyra didn't believe in her non-involvement, but she didn't insist, repeating her previous question instead.
"Yes, he, like me, senses a certain connection in you to someone who was very dear to him. It's hard to grasp and even harder to understand, but this is a special case."
"Special?"
"Yes. Perhaps, I should show you again."
Tira had long since stopped being surprised by how easily everything around her changed. She was more and more convinced that everything happening was nothing more than a dream. Even if her interlocutor insisted otherwise.
This time they found themselves on the bridge of a war cruiser. Sunken into the floor niches for technicians and auxiliary personnel, a wide panoramic window, consoles for the navigator, pilot, and a dozen operators of surveillance, armament, and defense systems. This was how, according to old holophotos, the bridge of the "Interdictor-class" should have looked.
And now there was a battle here.
Four Jedi stood opposite someone whose image was difficult to mistake. Revan was in his usual armor and mask, and a coal-black cloak with a deep hood was thrown over his shoulders. Only the impression he evoked was different from now or from another vision during the Mandalorian Wars. A palpable darkness emanated from Revan's figure...
Three Jedi said something. Tira couldn't hear the words, but it was clearly something high-flown, because the speakers proudly straightened their shoulders and stood tall, as if on a rostrum in the Senate. And this was a couple of steps away from someone who was clearly not their friend... but rather the opposite. And although their blades were activated, they stood too casually.
Only one young girl, standing slightly behind the others, froze in a defensive stance, clutching a light staff with bright yellow blades.
"These are the events aboard the 'Obsidian' on the day Revan was betrayed by his friend and apprentice, and then... became different. A group of Jedi came for him with the aim of arresting or killing him if he resisted. At that time, Revan was already the head of his own empire and bore the title of Dark Lord of the Sith. Unfortunately, I was no longer there," Mitra commented on the scene.
Meanwhile, the Jedi stepped towards Revan... and fell, struck down by the Sith's crimson blade. It all took only a moment. Here Revan stands with his arms crossed over his chest, listening to accusations and an arrest order with feigned indifference. Here the Jedi take a step, their lightsabers shining in their hands... A swing of the crimson blade and a casual wave of the hand, and the heads of two fly off their shoulders, and the third is pressed into the wall by the Force.
Of the group of Jedi who came to arrest Revan, only the girl with the light staff remained on her feet. Very young, no older than Tira herself. Chestnut hair braided into two pigtails at the back of her head... in her blue eyes, a burning mixture of fear and determination could be read.
Revan tilted his head slightly to the side, as if examining an interesting but incomprehensible picture. Then, having decided something, he activated his red-colored saber, instead of the purple one he had in the previous vision. He made an inviting gesture and froze in the juyo stance familiar from training.
"The girl you see is Bastila Shan. A talented Padawan who possessed the ability of combat meditation of rare power. It was because of these abilities that she was included in the detention group. And, I must admit, it was only thanks to her that the group was able to reach the bridge without losing anyone. But in Revan's presence, her concentration failed. It's not easy to get into the head of a powerful Sith and make him make a mistake," Surik's voice sounded again.
The scene continued.
For a few moments, Bastila gathered her courage, and then attacked. She was fast... even Tira appreciated it. However, this spectacle did not resemble a fight. Revan playfully parried all her thrusts, cornering her. The latter's experience was clearly lacking. However, her persistence could be envied.
"As you can see, Bastila didn't have much skill with a sword at that time. It was only later, during her joint journey with Revan, that she would take a couple of lessons from him and hone her skills. Not to the level of Arren Kai or Brianna, but to a quite acceptable one."
"You said she was talented in combat meditation... That's what manifested in me too, isn't it?" Tira turned, looking for Mitra.
Surik did not answer... Moreover... the ghost was nowhere to be seen.
Behind them, the hum of a lightsaber sounded, much louder and clearer than in the previous vision. Nomad instinctively ducked, and in the next moment, the blade of a yellow lightsaber passed over her head.
She was back in the cave. The icy walls returned to their proper place, but the illusion of Bastila Shan did not disappear.
The Jedi from the past froze opposite Tira with her activated light staff in her hands and looked directly into the Mandalorian's eyes, disregarding the latter's helmet. And there was nothing in that gaze but contempt.
"This is just an illusion. A vision. Nothing more. There is no danger," Nomad said mentally, trying to dispel the delusion.
But Shan didn't care about Tira's thoughts. The Jedi went on the attack, spinning her staff with much greater agility than in the vision of their fight with Revan.
Tira barely managed to block one blade with her bracer, which melted, showing that the beskar content in it was clearly insufficient. The vibroknife was already cut through by the next movement of the yellow blade. Nomad was only left to dodge, which was not so easy to do in the narrow cave corridor. Fortunately, her opponent also experienced inconvenience, forced to turn off one of the blades, which, however, only increased her speed.
Nomad never understood how she managed to miss that blow with the hilt directly to the helmet's fastenings, which resulted in the next attack ending with Tira losing her head protection.
Her scarlet hair scattered across the snow-white frost on the icy cave floor as the mercenary landed on her back. The yellow blade dangerously approached the defeated one's neck and froze.
"Unworthy," Bastila hissed, looking at Tira with disappointment.
In Shan's blue eyes, there was no longer dislike or contempt. Only sadness. As if Nomad had let her down... failed to meet expectations.
For some reason, Tira felt a bitter sense of resentment, and with it, a boiling anger. She couldn't lose so easily! And especially to a vision from the past! A cursed dream! And even like this! Not with such an attitude! Not with such disappointment!
"Get up!" Arren Kai's commanding voice thundered in her ears.
"Don't give up!" a softer voice, unfamiliar, but Tira guessed it belonged to Brianna.
"Unworthy," Bastila's words echoed.
Rage turned into righteous anger. No one had the right to judge her! She didn't know her! Didn't know what she had to go through! She wouldn't be broken so easily!
"Go to hell!" Nomad snapped, making a sharp lunge forward.
Pain shot through her neck as the lightsaber blade grazed the undersuit with its very edge and caught her skin. However, Tira achieved her goal. She grabbed the long hilt of the staff, blocking her opponent's movement and pulling her towards her. A booted foot struck Bastila in the stomach with such force that Shan's legs lifted off the ground.
Throwing her opponent over herself, Tira rolled to the side and jumped to her feet.
But Shan was nowhere to be seen. Only the dim light of the cave, and the shimmering of crystals in the icy walls. As if nothing had happened...
Tira raised her left hand and touched her neck where the lightsaber blade had hit. A flash of pain immediately made the girl snatch her hand away. The wound was there...
"This wasn't a dream?!" Nomad exclaimed in shock, clenching her fists.
Suddenly, the mercenary realized that she was clutching something in her right hand. The gaze of her golden-red eyes fell on the hilt of the light staff...
"What the hell..." Tira whispered, not taking her eyes off the trophy.
This was the very saber she had ripped from the hands of... a ghost? A vision? How could this have happened?!
"I think it's a gift," Surik's voice sounded nearby.
"Mitra!" Tira jumped back in surprise, activating her lightsaber by instinct.
The yellow blades illuminated the cave with a suddenly pleasant hum.
"Hmm... congratulations on acquiring the crystals for your first saber... Or rather, their return... It depends on how you look at it," Mitra mumbled the end of the phrase indistinctly to herself.
"Where were you?!" Nomad exclaimed demandingly.
"Observing. I am a guest here, just like you, so I can't control everything. What happened to you... is rare, and I can't explain it yet."
"You can't? Or you don't want to?" Tira caught the doubt in the ghost's voice.
"A little bit of both. One of our mutual acquaintances is already quartering me for everything that happened here... First he'll resurrect me, and then he'll quarter me," Mitra said, rubbing her forehead.
"What..."
"I can't give you all the answers you crave right now, Tira. Much has been revealed to both of us today, and I myself still need to figure things out. So, be patient. We will definitely meet again. I give you my word. Then you will get the answers to your questions," Surik said insinuatingly.
Nomad was not satisfied with the answer, and she was about to ask more questions when she suddenly heard her name being called.
"Tira!" Revan's voice echoed through the cave.
Not the Revan from the visions, but... her Revan. The one who stayed waiting at the cave entrance. He was calling her... And he was somewhere nearby, just around the bend...
"Mi..." Nomad tried to find Surik with her gaze, but she had disappeared somewhere again.
This was already annoying. There was no trace of fear left. Only pain and anger.
"I hope this isn't another vision," Tira growled and, attaching the lightsaber to her belt, moved in the direction from which Revan's voice came.
The exit, as it turned out, was indeed around the bend.
"Revan will definitely kill me..." Mitra Surik's doomed sigh echoed in the silence of the abandoned cave.