The Ebon Hawk screamed through Lehon's storm-wracked sky, a cortosis-plated dagger piercing clouds thick with malice, the Star of Ashla's orbit a fading memory above. Rain lashed the viewport, lightning clawing at the hull, but the Temple of the Ancients waited below—it was my ruin, my shame. Cortosis spires, shattered by my turbolasers four millennia ago, jutted like broken fangs, their scars crawling with sentient vines, bioluminescent fungi pulsing sickly green in the jungle's humid reek. Kyber runes flickered on a cracked gate that still protected its ruin, their hum stabbing my chest, an echo of the Force wail that had haunted us since Yavin 8 crumbled. My mask, pressed like durasteel on my skull, Bastila's voice hissing through it, "Betrayer. Destroyer." I clenched my fists, shoving her ghost down. I had been Darth Revan when I scarred this place, a Sith Lord burying secrets. Now, I was the Je'daii Herald, chasing the promise of balance, but the temple knew me. It remembered.
Ahsoka stood beside me in the cockpit, montrals twitching in the dim glow, her eyes burning into me, sharp as a saber. Her silence cut deeper than her words on the Star, when she had laid my past bare before the Jedi envoy, probing my motives. I felt her gaze through my mask, peeling back the scars I hid. "Statement: Oh, Master, this ruin's ghosts cry for my blasters," HK-47's voice crackled from the ship's speakers, his consciousness running every system with assassin's glee, his sarcastic menace a spark in the dark. "Query: Shall I oblige?"
My jaw tightened, gauntlets creaking. "HK, focus. Put us down as close to the ruin site as possible."
"Observation: My circuits outshine your previous visit's fumbles, Master. That disruptor field won't dare impede my glorious navigation." HK hummed, repulsors whining as we banked, his loyalty a twisted grin in his tone. "Brace for glorious carnage." Ahsoka's lips twitched, but her voice was steel, hands dancing over the navigation console, checking the temple ruin's scans with Togruta precision. Her movements were clipped, reflexes honed, but I sensed the temple's hum in her pause, its malice testing her resolve. Those screeches—the Force wails—ripping through me and everyone tied to the force, my vision blurring. Bastila's face flickered, her eyes accusing. "You burned worlds." I gripped the console, steadying, the dark-side aura clawing at my bones, the wail's pulse a knife in my skull.
Ezra Bridger's curse echoed from the lounge. "Kriff, that's worse than Dathomir!" His wolf, Kesh, snarled, her kyber collar glinting in my mind's eye, a beacon in the storm. Huyang drifted from the corridor. "Rakatan arrogance, amplified by neglect. This temple is a wound in the Force." Vicrul's vibro-scythe clanged on the bridge, his tone low. Ahsoka's eyes flicked to me, direct, unyielding, her voice a Togruta growl, carrying Ossus's weight. "What did you bury here, Revan? This isn't just a ruin—it's you hiding specters in your vault." Her words sliced, echoing her challenge from earlier. I met her gaze, mask hiding the sweat beneath, my voice terse, tasting like ash. "Answers, Tano. For the shattered moons. For the galaxy." The temple's hum pulsed, accusing me. "Liar." Its kyber runes vibrating like a heartbeat in the jungle's reek.
HK cut in, his tone dripping dark glee. "Statement: Descending to your noble slaughter, Master. Observation: This ruin's as filthy as a dianoga's lair." Lightning flashed, revealing jungle roots and glowing fungi, sickly green against blackened stone. Rakatan idols, half-buried, glared from the undergrowth, their kyber eyes pulsing, Star Forge relics glinting in their clawed hands. The landing pad, half-sunken, was my fault—crumbled by my volleys, littered with rusted droid husks, the jungle's shrieks drowning the humidity that clang like a second skin.
Vines lashed at my ship, sentient, their kyber-tipped barbs screeching like banshees. Lightning cracked, a mudslide roaring across the pad, churning earth and droid husks into a viscous trap. I raised my hand, the Force surging, hurling boulders and vines into the storm, my chest tightening as Bastila's voice cut through, "You destroyed this world." I mumbled, the Force straining my voice, "Lehon's as welcoming as ever,". HK banked hard, repulsors screaming, his voice a theatrical rant. "Query: Shall I outshine your Sith-era blunders with my own carnage, Master?"
Ahsoka's fingers tightened on the console, her defiance flaring like she was ready to stare down Vader. "Like outrunning Dooku's blockade," she muttered, a spark of a past fire in her eyes. Droids crawled from the wreckage, kyber cores flickering like dying stars, their blasts searing our shields. HK scoffed, "Statement: Your wars were mere skirmishes. Behold my artistry." Sparks rained, the jungle's roars swallowing the chaos. HK's turrets roared, shredding droids into sparking heaps, metal screaming as cortosis limbs tore apart. "Exclamation: Pathetic relics!" HK crowed, a warhead vaporizing a massive droid's core, coolant spraying across the pad, splattering the viewport. "Observation: Your request of landing zones is deplorable, Master. Suggestion: Next time, consult my superior algorithms."
We landed on the pad, repulsors scorching vines, debris crunching under the hull, the ground trembling like Lehon's wrath. My boots hit the ramp, the song of my saber's violet and red crystals chaotic, their hum cutting through the rain, a song I'd known since Cathar's fall. Ahsoka landed beside me, her stance coiled, rain streaking her montrals. The dark-side aura crashed like a tidal wave, my bombardment's echo screaming in my skull, those wails' pulses twisting my gut like Malak's betrayal. I anchored to the Je'daii Code—balance, not conquest—pushing back the darkness, the mask's weight heavier than ever. Ezra stumbled out, rubbing his temple, his voice soft but sharp. "Your aim sucked, Revan. This place is crawling with ancient droids."
Kesh growled, hackles raised, her kyber collar pulsing, her eyes glinting like the idols' as she sensed hunger in the jungle's shrieks. Huyang's photoreceptors glowed, scanning the gate, his tone dry as a Jedi archive. "The Rakata built to endure, but this damage… your handiwork, I presume?" Vicrul snarled, slicing a vine with a wet snap, his scorched armor glinting, his voice crude. "Enough talk. Let's breach this tomb already." The Hawk's ramp hissed shut, turrets swiveling, HK's voice a gleeful snarl. "Statement: Landed with my usual carnage. Query: Shall I seek more combatants, Master?" I snapped, "Quiet, HK." Ahsoka's grin was fleeting, rain streaking her face, her voice wry. "He's growing on me."
I led them from the pad up to the temple's gate, vines slithering like serpents, their kyber-tipped barbs glinting, the air thick with humidity and rot. Rakatan carvings loomed from the shadows, their clawed hands clutching Star Forge relics, kyber shards pulsing in their eyes. The gate's hum pulled me, a siren from my past, when I forced it as Darth Revan, the Star Forge's power a fire in my veins. Ahsoka's gaze never left me, her silence louder than the jungle's roars, her probing a blade in my chest. Ezra's boots crunched beside me, Kesh at his side, his voice low. "Kriff, Revan, sure about this?" The temple's accusation grew, Bastila's whisper clawing, "You'll break them all." The temple's hum clawed my skull, a whisper of Cathar's ashes in my mind.
The gate loomed, a cracked monolith etched with kyber runes, their flicker warped by my turbolasers, the hum vibrating my bones like a war drum. Its barrier crackles, now hungry, unstable, the jungle's shrieks fading as if Lehon holds its breath. I remembered from before, when I had forced this gate, the Star Forge's power a fire that burned worlds. Now, it screams, "Betrayer. Warlord." I turn to Ahsoka, voice low, rain dripping from my mask. "It wants balance, but it's broken. I've done this twice, but this… it's a trap."
Ezra leaned against the Ebon Hawk, his voice sharp but soft, his empathy sensing my guilt. "You really meant to bury this place for forever, didn't you?" Kesh's growl deepened, her kyber collar pulsing, sensing the gate's malice, her nudge steadying Ezra's step. Huyang stepped forward, photoreceptors narrowing, his tone dry, professorial. "The Rakata's rituals required dual signatures—light, dark, balance. This gate's damage has made it volatile." Vicrul hacked at another vine, sap splattering, his crude snarl cutting through. "Herald, say the word and I'll carve through this gate myself."
Droids lurched from the jungle in an ambush, their circuits sparking, some crushed by fallen spires, kyber cores flickering like dying stars in the rain. Ahsoka's Ataru was a blur, white sabers igniting to carve through cortosis, sparks flying as she leaped, her blades singing, deflecting kyber blasts that seared the air, the ozone tang sharper as she dispatched the advancing droids. My Niman was ruthless, violet blade roaring to life, red saber staying always ready, my Force push toppling more droids into the mud, their metal husks sinking in the jungle's reek. Force lightning leaped from my free hand—frying a droid's core, metal screaming as it melted, coolant oozing, splattering my armor. A blast seared Vicrul's shoulder, blood mixing with rain, charring his flesh. He cursed, vibro-scythe lashing out, "Kriffing scrap!" Ahsoka's Force pull yanking him clear of the assault, his grudging nod a flicker in the storm, his cracked rib heaving as he dealt with the remaining attacker.
We faced the gate, its runes a psychic assault, their fractured kyber shards pulsing erratically, scorched and shattered by my turbolasers during my dark rein. The monolith, once a towering Rakatan sentinel, sagged under its own weight, cracks spiderwebbing its cortosis frame, the wails' echoes screaming through unstable surges that threatened to collapse it. Vines clung to its wounds, kyber-tipped barbs glinting like the idols' eyes, the jungle's reek thick with ozone and rot. Kesh paced, her kyber collar glowing, her growls guiding our timing, her instincts sharper than my memory. Huyang's voice cut through, like the info came straight from a Coruscant archive. "Light first, dark, balance. The Rakata revered symmetry, but this gate's damage makes the lock an unknown." I raised my hands, violet saber dimming, the Je'daii Code steadying me, the mask's weight crushing. Ahsoka mirrored me, white blades aloft, her light surging like a beacon, her jaw clenched as if fighting a shadow. Vicrul stepped forward, vibro-scythe gleaming, his scorched armor glinting, his dark-side aura a roiling storm, raw, his Knights of Ren past a shadow in his eyes.
I channeled light—Jedi resolve, the Prodigal Knight's redemption, the Je'daii's fragile hope for the shattered moons. The runes flickered, misfiring, their damaged crystals spitting sparks, the gate shuddering as if rejecting my touch. The temple snarled, "Liar," its hum a scream in my bones, the wails' pulses a hammer in my skull. Ahsoka's light poured in, pure and unyielding, but her eyes flickered, her vision flooding all of our mind's eyes through the Force, Anakin on Mustafar, his voice whispering, "You left me, Snips." She pushed it back, guilt flashing across her face, her Togruta resolve holding, her sabers blazing brighter. I shifted to balance, light and dark fused, but the gate's instability demanded more—a raw darkness to anchor it. I nodded to Vicrul, his Force sensitivity a jagged edge, his past a perfect conduit. "My Fire, stand your ground!" I ordered.
Vicrul gripped his vibro-scythe, his dark-side energy surging, barely trained in the Force but fierce, his eyes blazing with rage and something deeper—grief, a secret buried in his past. A vision struck him and us through the Force, a child's face, his own blood, hidden from the galaxy, lost to his own aspirations, their cry fueling his power. He snarled, the Force amplifying his fear-inducing aura, the gate's runes flaring as his darkness poured in, a harvester's wrath. Bastila's voice screamed in my mind, "You betrayed me. Cathar burned. The Jedi Civil War was because of you." My hand trembled, lightning crackling, her face morphing, eyes blazing. "Warlord. Your Je'daii will conquer, not balance. Another empire." I growled, forcing balance, my heart a battlefield. The damaged runes surged, unstable, threatening to collapse the gate, sparks raining like kyber shards.
Ahsoka's eyes narrowed, sensing our struggle, her voice sharp. "Stay with us, Revan, Vicrul." Ezra winced, clutching his head, I could sense a dark pull from his past—Maul's shadow—gripping him, but Kesh's nudge grounded him, her kyber collar pulsing like the idols'. Vicrul's darkness held, his unknown child's cry echoing in his snarl, synced with Ahsoka's light and my balance. The gate's runes flared, their fractured kyber realigning, the temple's Force stirring, a mystical hum weaving through the monolith. Sparks ceased, cracks sealed, the gate's surface glowed, its cortosis frame knitting together as if alive, the runes blazing with renewed power. The barrier collapsed with a scream that shook the earth, the gate sliding open to the courtyard, its rectified doors a testament to the Rakata's will, begrudgingly revealing the blackened maw of the temple.
A dark-side pulse erupted, hurling Vicrul into the mud, his vibro-scythe skidding, blood seeping from his shoulder. He coughed, clutching a cracked rib, his eyes burning with loyalty, the child's vision fading but fueling his resolve. "Not done yet, Herald," he rasped, staggering to his feet. The maw yawned before us, the temple's throat pulsing with an ancient hum, Rakatan carvings glaring, their Star Forge relics glinting. I led them forward toward the temple's entrance, the gate's rubble crunching under my boots, the jungle's shrieks fading as if Lehon held its breath. Ahsoka's white sabers dimmed, her gaze unrelenting, her challenge echoing in my skull. Ezra's hand rested on Kesh, his voice low. "This place definitely wants us dead. Hope ours answers are here." The temple's retaliation stirred, a beast waking, its hum deepening, the dark-side aura a tide crashing over me, Bastila's whisper clawing, "You forsook me for your war, Revan. Your Je'daii will shatter like Cathar did."
The jungle erupted, vines thrashing like whips, their kyber-tipped barbs glinting in the storm's light. A massive war droid rose from a cratered spire, its cortosis armor scarred by my turbolaser burns, kyber core pulsing with dark-side rot, a corrupted heart glaring like the idols' eyes. My memory flashed—Rakatan war machines, my bombardment failing to kill them. My curse. Ezra shouted, his voice carrying Lothal's grit, sharp but soft. "Man, your aim really sucked!"
Huyang sighed, his tone dry as a Jedi archive, rain streaking his plating. "I miss predictable droids." Vicrul, still clutching his cracked rib, his vibro-scythe gleaming, his snarl crude and fierce in the face of the threat.
Ahsoka's white sabers twirled, her stance defiant, her voice a Togruta growl. "Together, Revan. No solo heroics." My violet saber hummed, red blade a fury reserved, the Je'daii resolve steeling me against the temple's scream in my head. "Warlord. Destroyer." Mask hiding a small tug of my lips. We charged, our synergy a dance of light and shadow, her Ataru a whirlwind, my Niman a storm, the jungle's roars swallowing the chaos. The droid's kyber blasts seared the pad, melting stone. My Force barrier deflected them, sparks raining, stinging my face through the mask's slits.
Ahsoka vaulted onto the droid's arm, white sabers carving through armor, cortosis screaming as it split, her leaps defying the storm's pull, rain streaking her montrals. A vine snared her leg, dark-side malice pulsing, its kyber barbs glinting like the idols'. My red saber springing to life to sever it, violet blade parrying a claw, the metal shrieking, coolant splattering my armor. Ahsoka leaped again, sabers slashing, cauterizing gashes that oozed coolant, splattering her robes, the jungle's shrieks louder. The droid's claw grazed her arm, searing flesh, a red welt blooming, blood mixing with rain. She grunted, Force pushing it back, her light unwavering, a beacon against the temple's shadow.
My lightning surged, frying the droid's circuits, its optics flickering like dying stars. HK's warhead unexpectedly streaked from the Ebon Hawk, slamming the core with a kyber-fueled roar, his voice a gleeful rant cutting through the comms. "Exclamation: Taste my wrath, you glorified scrapheap!" Molten shrapnel sprayed, cortosis shards embedding in the pad, one grazing my arm, stinging like the wails echoes. Ahsoka's sabers severed the droid's arm, metal screaming, the husk collapsing, its core erupting in a geyser of sparks and coolant, the blast singeing my armor, the jungle's shrieks fading into silence.
Rain hissed on molten debris, the courtyard a battlefield of Rakatan cortosis scrap and kyber fragments, the ozone tang thick in my throat. My sabers dimmed, chest heaving, Bastila's accusations fading, but the temple's hum grew louder, a siren pulling me deeper, the wails' pulses a heartbeat in my skull. "I broke this place once," I said, voice raw, the words a vow to the ghosts watching, to the Je'daii's fragile hope. "Time to finish it." Ahsoka's white blades dimmed, her gaze piercing, her voice a Togruta vow, carrying the weight of Ossus's younglings, and the fragile peace of her Jedi. "For answers, Revan. And to a lot more than just these moon shattering monsters."
Ezra jogged up, Kesh at his side, his voice soft but sharp. "Nice mess, legend. Another bombardment by one of your ships?" Kesh's growl warned of deeper threats, drawing our attention, her kyber collar pulsing, her eyes glinting like the Rakatan idols'. Huyang scanned the maw, photoreceptors narrowing, his tone dry, rain streaking his plating. "The supercomputer's fate awaits, alive, corrupted, or gone forever." Vicrul, clutched his cracked rib, his vibro-scythe steady, his snarl crude, fierce. "I'm not sitting this out, Herald."
HK's his voice crackling through the comms with dark glee. "Statement: Victory, courtesy of my glorious accuracy. Query: Shall I bill you, Master? Observation: Your old T3 unit was less reliable than my warheads." I couldn't help but smile under my mask. "Quiet, HK." Ahsoka's grin flickered, rain streaking her face, her voice wry. "Definitely growing on me."
We faced the temple's maw—me, Ahsoka, Ezra, Kesh, Huyang, Vicrul—the Je'daii's with the Jedi and the galaxy's future hinging on the supercomputer's fate, its mystery a pulse in my bones. The temple's blackened throat yawned, kyber runes flickering like dying stars, Rakatan carvings glaring from the shadows, their clawed hands clutching Star Forge relics that glinted in the storm's light. The jungle faded, Lehon's wrath holding its breath, the Force wails' echoes pulling us into the dark, my past a weight I'd carry forever.
The temple swallowed us, its tunnel of cortosis and rot. I led the way, boots crunching on shattered kyber, the air thick with humidity that clogged my lungs, the jungle's reek of ozone and decay clinging to my armor. Collapsed corridors loomed, their cortosis walls scarred by my turbolasers thousands of years ago, now choked with bioluminescent algae that glowed like wail-tainted stars. Rakatan altars, half-buried in rubble, clutched Star Forge kyber, their runes pulsing faintly, as if the temple remembered me—Darth Revan, the Sith Lord who broke it. Bastila's voice hissed in my skull. "You abandoned me." I shoved her ghost down again, the mask's weight heavier than ever, my violet and red sabers crystals humming low at my hips.
Ahsoka followed, montrals twitching in the dim glow, her hazel eyes probing me like a saber's edge. She spoke, voice low, testing. "What did this place mean to you, Revan? Is it the mutual answers we seek, or something older?" Her question cut, peeling at my Je'daii resolve, her Togruta defiance tempered by the galaxy's fragile stillness. I met her gaze, mask hiding the sweat beneath, my voice terse. "Answers, Tano. For the shattered moons. Again, nothing more." The temple's hum pulsed, accusing me. "Liar."
Ezra trailed, his boots splashing in shallow floods, his voice sharp but soft, carrying Lothal's dust. "This place feels like a bad nightmare. You sure this will be worth it?" Kesh prowled at his side, her kyber collar glinting, growling at shadows, her instincts sensing paths through the labyrinth. Huyang's photoreceptors glowed, scanning a rune-carved altar. "The Rakata's hubris forged wonders—and ruin." His words, laced with years of Jedi wisdom, carried a chiding edge, as if we were younglings fumbling a saber form. Vicrul limped behind, vibro-scythe steady, blood still seeping from his shoulder, his crude snarl cutting the air. "Keep moving, everyone. This tomb's itching to bury us."
The corridor narrowed, cortosis walls pressing like a vice, algae casting eerie light on shattered Rakatan statues, their clawed hands clutching kyber shards. My memory flashed, a Rakatan priest's eyes, black as obsidian, chanting guttural hymns over a holocron's glow, their voices a drone beneath the supercomputer's hum. I had forced my way into this temple as Darth Revan, the Star Forge's power a fire in my veins, but now its accusation clawed me, the wail's pulse twisting my gut like Malak's laugh. Bastila's whisper grew louder. I gripped my sabers, steadying, the humid air stinging my throat.
A chamber opened ahead, its cortosis walls etched with Rakatan murals, their kyber inlays flickering like dying stars. The murals sprawled—starships forged in kyber fire, worlds kneeling to the Infinite Empire, a supercomputer orb binding their power. Shattered altars littered the floor, their kyber cores stained with ancient blood, the air reeking of charred bone and ozone. Huyang traced a rune, photoreceptors narrowing, his voice calm but weighted, a Jedi master lecturing wayward younglings. "This sanctum housed the Rakata's supercomputer, a repository of their secrets. It fueled the Star Forge—a shadow older than The Empire." His dry wit surfaced, a faint smirk in his tone. "Mind the altars, younglings. The Rakata were not known for hospitality."
My memory stirred, sharp as a saber's edge. This chamber, with its murals and altars, wasn't where I'd faced the supercomputer before. But deeper, in the Catacombs, a stark room where a Rakatan priest's chants had faded, the computer's kyber hum alive when I'd interfaced with it, unlocking Star Forge secrets. Its codes had burned in my mind, active and unyielding, unlike this sanctum's decay. Now, it lay beyond the vault door ahead, its secrets our only hope for whatever was building out there. The wails' pulses twisted my gut, Bastila's whisper unyielding, "You broke my heart for power."
Ezra crouched by an altar, whistling. "This place makes Lothal's caves feel cozy. What was this place like back then?" His probe a diplomat's cloaked in interest, seeking the man beneath the mask. I deflected, voice raw. "Priests. Chants. Power I shouldn't have touched." The memory surged—a Rakatan elder's face, withered, hissing commands as the supercomputer's kyber hummed, its light searing my eyes. Vicrul snarled, vibro-scythe scraping the floor, his wounds slowing him but his rage undimmed. "Answers or not, something's watching us, Herald." His dark-side aura flared and as he brushed an altar, the kyber pulsed, triggering a Force vision that flooded all of our thoughts.
A child's face struck him—a girl of eleven, her eyes Lysara's, crying in an Outer Rim shadow, her voice a blade in his soul. Lysara's plea echoed, from Nar Shaddaa's smog, when he had chosen the Knights of Ren over her, her departure a wound he hadn't felt since. Vicrul staggered, snarling, unaware of his daughter's life but scarred by the void, his paranoia spiking, the temple's dark energy amplifying his rage. He gripped his scythe, voice crude. "Kriff this place!" Ahsoka's eyes flicked to him. "Hold it together, Vicrul. We're not here for chasing ghosts." Her words carried Ossus's weight, a mentor steadying a team on edge.
The chamber trembled, a Force-driven tremor targeting me, runes flaring with my name in Rakatan script, the temple's accusation a scream in my skull now. "Betrayer." Three Rakatan droids, their cortosis rusted but kyber cores blazing, erupted from the rubble, their blasts searing the air, sparks raining like kyber shards. Ahsoka's Ataru was a blur, white sabers carving through a droid's arm, cortosis sparking, her leaps defying the humid weight. Ezra's green saber ignited, slashing a droid's core, kyber bursting in a flash of light, his voice sharp. "Your old friends don't want to quit!" Kesh lunged, claws rending a droid's leg, metal screaming as she tore it apart, her growl a beacon in the chaos.
Vicrul's scythe swung, Force-enhanced, severing a droid's head, circuits sizzling, his rage—fueled by his unknown child's cry—unleashing a brutal strike. My Niman was relentless, red blade sheathed, violet saber slashing, frying a droid's core, sparks showering my armor. The temple's tremor intensified, walls shifting, and a Force illusion struck me—Darth Revan, my mask bloodied, slaying Rakatan priests, their screams like the wails that have now shattered dozens of moons, their blood pooling at my feet. Bastila's voice roared again and again, "Your choices tore us apart." I staggered, but Ezra's hand gripped my arm, his empathy cutting through. "Revan, it's not real—fight it!" Kesh's growl grounded me, her kyber collar pulsing, snapping me back.
Huyang's voice rose, dry but urgent, his photoreceptors scanning. "The Rakata wove illusions into their defenses. Focus, or this tomb will claims us." Ahsoka's sabers dispatched the last droid, kyber core shattering, sparks fading in the algae's glow. The tremor ceased, the temple restoring itself—walls shifted, cortosis knitting like flesh, runes glowing as if appeased. I steadied, mask hiding the sweat, the illusion's echo twisting my soul.
The chamber's exit led to a sealed vault door, its cortosis etched with pulsing runes, the supercomputer's antechamber beyond. Rakatan carvings glared, their Star Forge relics glinting. Ahsoka's sabers dimmed, her gaze probed my Je'daii heart, seeking the truth behind my mask. I deflected again. The temple's hum pulsed harder, accusations unrelenting, "Liar."
Ezra's hand rested on Kesh, her growl deepening, sensing a trap beyond the door. "This place hates you, Revan." Huyang scanned the runes, his tone dry, rain from the jungle earlier still streaking down his plating. "We should be close now. The Rakata's folly endures." Vicrul's scythe scraped the floor, his voice crude, Kalia's vision a shadow in his eyes. "Let's end this." The runes flared, erratic, the dark-side aura a suffocating tide.
The vault door's runes had faded behind us, their cortosis frame grinding shut, sealing us in the Temple of the Ancients' Catacombs. The chamber yawned, a stark crypt of cortosis walls cracked by my turbolasers assault so many years ago, their scars leaking crystal shards that pulsed faintly. Pillars loomed, jagged from my bombardment, kyber-infused stalactites dripping algae that glowed sickly green, pooling in shallow floods. Shattered holocrons littered the floor, their fragments glinting like broken stars, the air thick with rot that stung my throat. At the chamber's heart stood the supercomputer's orb, cracked, its surface dark, silent where it had once hummed alive before. My memory surged—its interface, codes burning my mind, a Rakatan priest's chants fading as I'd forced its secrets. Now, it lay inactive, a dead relic of the Star Forge, our only hope for answers to the shattered moons. Bastila's voice hissed in my skull. "You burned their worlds for power." I clenched my fists, shoving her ghost down using the dark I had tamed.
Ahsoka led, her voice sharp, commanding. "Stay sharp. This place isn't done with us." Her Togruta resolve carried weight, a Council leader steadying the team, her veteran reflexes honed. Ezra followed, Kesh prowled beside him, her kyber collar pulsing, growling at shadows, her instincts razor-sharp. Huyang's photoreceptors glowed, scanning a holocron's shards, his tone dry, a Jedi master chiding younglings. "The Rakata's supercomputer stored their Star Forge secrets as our legend here knows, another achievement of hubris." His wit surfaced, a faint smirk. "Tread lightly now, younglings." Vicrul making up our flank as he limped behind.
The chamber's hum pulsed, a dark-side aura crashing like a tide. My memory flashed—a Rakatan elder's voice, or the computer's, intoning, "Power beyond grasp breeds ruin", its warning a blade in my heart when I had interfaced with it before, codes searing my mind. The supercomputer, its kyber hum a siren, unlike this silent husk now in front of me. A tremor shook the vault, runes flaring with my name in Rakatan script, the temple's accusation a screaming louder. "Warlord." A Force illusion struck, targeting me—Darth Revan, my mask bloodied, slaying vague priests, their faces blurred, Malak's sneer looming, his saber raised as he betrayed me, their screams like the Force screeches, blood pooling at my feet. Bastila's voice roared, "You burned their worlds for power!" I staggered.
Vicrul grunted, caught in his own illusion—he snarled, his paranoia spiking, the vision echo fueling his rage. Ahsoka's voice cut through, steady. "Focus, both of you! It's the temple's trap!" Ezra's hand on Kesh, her growl grounding us, her kyber collar pulsing like the holocrons. "Revan, Vicrul, snap out of it!" I steadied, mask hiding the sweat, the illusion's echo twisting my soul, Vicrul's snarl a raw edge beside me as we all snapped to.
The supercomputer's orb loomed at the chamber's heart, a cracked sphere of cortosis and kyber, its surface dark, faintly glowing like a dying star. No hum, no pulse—just silence, a Rakatan relic gutted by time and my assault from a lifetime ago. I stepped closer, boots crunching on kyber shards, the air thick with rot that burned my throat. Ahsoka's sabers dimmed, her montrals twitching, her voice sharp. "This it, Revan? Your big answer?" Ezra studying our surroundings, Kesh growling low, her kyber collar glinting. Huyang's photoreceptors narrowed, scanning the orb. "Its matrix is fractured, like a holocron's death. No response to any stimuli." Vicrul's scythe scraped the floor, still grabbing at his ribs, his snarl crude. "What a waste of junk."
I reached out, gauntlets creaking, the Force probing the orb. Nothing. My memory surged—this crypt alive, the supercomputer's kyber hum a siren as a Rakatan elder, chanted hymns, his voice a drone, "Power beyond grasp breeds ruin." I'd forced its codes, Star Forge secrets imprinting into my mind, Malak's shadow at my back. Three years later, I returned, amnesiac, the elder's face harder, betrayed. "You took our trust, warlord, and forged war." His ritual had opened the temple, but his warning stung, "The Star Forge corrupts all." Now, the orb mocked me, dead as the empire it spawned from.
Bastila's voice clawed again at my skull, "You only chase power." My knees buckled, cortosis gauntlets slamming the floor, the mask's weight crushing. The temple roared, a tremor shaking its core, pillars groaning as kyber stalactites cascaded like shattered stars. A slab plummeted toward Ezra, his eyes wide, Lothal's grit frozen. Ahsoka's Force push surged, hurling him clear, her voice a Togruta snarl. "Move, Bridger!" The slab crashed, dust choking the air, Ezra's robe torn, a red welt blooming on his arm. He then scrambled up, gasping, Kesh's growl grounding him. Huyang's drone darted, dodging debris, his tone dry. "Rakatan hospitality, as expected."
The team lunged for me, boots splashing in algae pools, but the Force erupted, a violet kyber flash of energy engulfing me. I lifted, weightless, the temple's hum a scream in my bones. Vicrul charged, vibro-scythe raised, his rage spiked by another vision of his own. "Herald!" He roared, but the Force shoved him back, his cracked rib heaving, blood splattering mud. A barrier flared, shimmering like corrupted kyber, sealing me away from them. Ahsoka's white sabers flared, slashing uselessly, her voice fierce. "Revan, fight it!" Ezra's green blade lit ablaze. "Come on, legend, snap out of it!" Kesh's collar pulsed, her snarl a beacon, but the temple fell silent, a void swallowing all.
Blackness swallowed me, the chamber's rot and kyber hum snuffed out. I was nowhere, a specter adrift, my body weightless in a void like the timeless echo I felt in that Massassi temple. Ahead, I saw myself—a repeat of my vision before I departed Mustafar but more real, more raw. Revan, mask gleaming red and silver-gray, standing atop Tython's spires. Kyber towers blazed, their light knitting a galaxy whole, worlds kneeling in harmony, Jedi and Sith dissolved into Je'daii balance. The air sang with hope, a warmth I hadn't felt since Bastila's touch. My chest ached, the vision so vivid it burned—yet no path showed how I'd reached it, no steps, no choices, just an outcome dangling like a star I couldn't grasp. The scene twisted, my mask was now bloodied, crimson streaks clotting the Mandalorian runes. Je'daii fleets roared, durasteel hulks torching stars, planets crumbling under my crimson saber's crackle. I stood on a throne of cortosis, an emperor crushing all, the galaxy's screams louder than Cathar's fall. No reason, no cause—just ruin, vivid as the first, tearing my soul like a vibroblade. I staggered in the void, what I interpret as breathing turns ragged, the futures clashing, no road to either, just their weight crushing my resolve.
A voice thundered out of the blackness, deep as Lehon's storms, familiar yet estranged. The Rakatan Elder appeared in front of me, his withered frame cloaked in tattered robes, black eyes glinting like obsidian shards. His face was the same I'd seen in the temple's heart, his chants fading under the supercomputer's hum. "You return, Prodigal," he rasped, voice thick with wary respect, as if weighing my Je'daii cloak against my Sith past. "Twice you plundered our sanctum—first for power, then to bury it. Why a third?" His tone softened, a reluctant pause, his eyes narrowing as if seeing my intent to mend a shattered galaxy. "You broke our planet, buried its caretakers. Yet you stand, claiming balance. Speak, what drives you now?" I opened my mouth, but no words came, the futures' weight choking me.
His face hardened, respect curdling to bitterness. "You ravaged this world, tore its secrets for your own gain!" His voice rose, a priest betrayed, his robes billowing as the void pulsed. "You bombarded our spires, left us to ruin! What right have you to walk these halls again?" The air thickened, kyber hums vibrating my skull, the Force wails' echoes a blade in my gut. His form shimmered, slowing, and my heart seized. The Elder's eyes softened into hers—Bastila's, hazel and fierce, her dark hair framing a face raw with pain. My lover, my redeemer, the woman who'd bound me to the light on the Star Forge, now stood before me, her Jedi robes torn, blood streaking her cheek from Cathar's fall. The void faded, replaced by the temple's reek, her scent—blaster smoke and wildflowers—hitting me like a sucker punch. Her hand reached out, trembling, as if to touch my face beyond the mask I bare, and I froze, aching for her warmth.
"You left me, Revan," she whispered, voice breaking, each word a vibroblade to my chest. "You chose power, burned worlds, cast me aside for your war!" Her eyes blazed, tears glinting like kyber, her rage intimate, cutting deeper than the Elder's galactic rebuke. "I loved you, and you broke us—Cathar, the Jedi, me!" Her scream echoed, the void trembling, my memory flashing to the Star Forge, her pleading as I turned away, my Sith mask cold against my skin. Her voice then cracked, a tear tracing the blood on her cheek. "Will you forge another empire, my love? Shatter the galaxy again?" Her hand dropped, her face twisting, accusing, ripping my soul apart.
The vision shuddered, Bastila's form snapping back to the Elder's, his black eyes wide, no longer accusing but searching. His voice was a low growl, edged with something new—curiosity. "Why are you here, Prodigal? What do you seek, you who've bled our secrets dry?" My chest heaved, memory surging—Yavin 4, my awakening as Yavin 8, that first ice moon, cracked as something rose from its depths. The first Force wail's screech splitting my skull, Shepard's power beyond the Force. "Answers!" I roared, voice raw, the word a desperate plea, a vow, the unknown hammering my ribs. "For the shattered moons, the galaxy, my ultimate destiny!" The void froze, blackness swallowing all but the Elder's face, his withered features slack with terror. "The Thalassians," he breathed, voice cracking, as if the name were a curse he'd thought long buried. His eyes locked on mine, disbelief etching every line, the void trembling as if Lehon itself recoiled.
The vision shattered, silence crashing like a tidal wave. I fell, landing crouched, gauntlets clenching, the cortosis floor biting my palms. My mask shifted, and I secured it, its cold weight grounding me, sweat stinging my eyes. The supercomputer's orb flickered, a faint pulse of kyber light dancing across its cracked surface, a living hum stirring where there'd been only death. The interface, the Rakatan machinery around it—still shattered, wires sparking, cortosis panels warped beyond repair—remained as the ruined husk we had found. I staggered upright, the chamber's silence absolute, my team's voices muffled and indistinct, crystal fragments glinting like broken vows in the algae's glow. Turning to the orb, I reached out, the Force a steady tide through my veins. It lifted, hovering gracefully into my hands, its faint reemerging hum vibrating my bones, a spark worth carrying into the dark. To myself, I whispered, a vow carved in my soul, "The wrongs I must right to bring balance… start here." I then commanded with my other hand raised, voice hoarse, the Je'daii's hope an ember in my chest "The orb, we take it."