The Darkness Within

The Darkness Within

***Korriban Sith Academy***

Sith guards S3T4 and ST53 left their quarters. They had just returned from some much needed down time in Dreshdae. It had been a relief to take off their armor; to breathe the re-cycled air in the cantina rather than the purified air of their suits, and to have the muscles in their arms and legs unrestricted by the black body suit and full armor plates. What had been the best was the chance to see without a scanner. The night vision would tinge their view with red, and, in their opinion, there was already too much red in their lives.

"My helmet's unsealed on the left side," S3T4 whispered as he and his partner slunk down the long, dark hallway of the academy.

During the day the academy was serene, its architecture designed to let in the natural light. At night, dark shadows flickered over the walls and the dimmed overheads provided only small wells of light between black holes of space. Two lurid red globes set above the door to the interrogation room at the end of the hallway glared like red eyes as the two soldiers approached.

S3T4 shivered and tried again to seal his helmet. "Sometimes I think I hear things: moaning-screaming."

"Let me try, Rafe," ST53 offered, but his attempt failed. "The latch is buckled." He carefully did not comment on his partner's over-active imagination.

"The grenade that damn apprentice tossed at us during the last practice session. Using live rounds on us, Seth!"

Seth nodded sympathetically. "They call us ‘meat in a can', do you know that?"

"Not Lord Revan."

There was a hush-an intake of breath from both soldiers at the mention of the revered Sith Lord.

"No, not Lord Revan, and that is why we serve."

They reached their post and the two Sith they relieved almost ran down the hall.

Seth's gulp could be heard even through his helmet. "Gizka's gizzards! That means the Reaper will be here, if he isn't already!"

Reaper. It was the name given to the nightmare in black. No one in the Sith legions on Korriban knew his real name or even what he looked like.

"That means clean up detail for us," Rafe grumbled. "And I just polished my uniform."

"Quiet! Someone's coming! It's...the Reaper."

Cowed, Seth and Rafe stared at the floor as a form enveloped in a voluminous, black robe with a deep cowl that obscured the features, approached. The red lights revealed black boots encasing his legs up to the knees and black gauntlets when he gestured for them to open the door.

They sensed the Reaper glaring at them from the utter blackness of the cowl. It was terrifying. He was like a hungry predator staring at them from the shadows. Seth had met those eyes only once and they had given him bad dreams. They were dark, and as cold as Telos's Polar Ice Cap.

Both Sith held at attention, even though their stomachs clenched and their eyes, even behind the helmets, wanted to look away.

The Reaper never spoke to them. When he did now, the voice sounded so much younger than expected. They were grateful their faces were concealed because their surprise might have been mistaken for a sign of disrespect.

"I do not want to be interrupted."

They saluted and stood even straighter as he passed, and did not relax until the great stone door grated closed.

Two hours later, Rafe broke the unnerving silence. "This guy enjoys his job way too much."

"Talk in the ranks is he was sent here by Lord Revan personally. Are you going to question that?"

"You have a point. At least the Reaper dresses with style not like the apprentices and dark Jedi."

"Yeah, they have the nerve to make fun of us when they wear those tunics with the stupid padded shoulders."

Both snickered, and then fell back into morose silence, trying not to think about what was happening in the room behind them.

"Too much time has gone by," Rafe commented, unable to tolerate the dead quiet any longer. He glanced at his chronometer.

"You think he'll turn this one?"

Rafe shook his head. "No. I hate it when Jedi are tortured! I don't have the Force, but somehow they project their pain-even through doors this thick!" He hunched his shoulders, the tight armor puckering his skin until it was almost pinched. "Can you feel it? Waves of -of suffering, and I swear I can hear the screaming sometimes. How about you?"

"I'm trying not to."

As if on cue, the door opened and the Reaper stepped out. "Sorry about the mess," he offered over his shoulder, waving a bloody glove at them. They were meant to clean up.

Just inside the door was a plasteel container full of body bags. Rafe pulled out several. Seth crossed to the torture table in the middle of the room, stepping gingerly to avoid slipping in a pool of blood.

"Jedi jinx!" Rafe swore as he turned on the water and began hosing off the table. Rivers of blood slithered to the floor drain.

Seth was on the other side of the table, wrestling with one of the hanging chains. There were four with torture restraints attached to the ends.

"Rafe, gimme a hand here. It's stuck."

Rafe had been stuffing the body bags. He came over and helped tug at the chain, which suddenly came loose.

"Look out!" Seth shouted.

Rafe attempted to duck, but the arm still attached to the restraint struck the side of his helmet, splattering both of them with red gore.

"W-where's?" Seth fought down the bile rising in his throat. "The hand...is missing."

"I don't care if he does have Lord Revan's favor," Rafe said as he unlocked the cuff and stashed the last of the Jedi into a bag. "This is sick."

*** Jedi Temple Coruscant***

The huge Jedi Temple sat on a level plain, its many ornate columns and rounded lines so different from Coruscant's lesser buildings. Gigantic monoliths and super structures covered the city. Vehicles of all kinds darted and flew, causing an almost white noise that was a part of the city, and their emissions added to the stench. There was no grass, trees, or flowers-the city had become a by-product of its neglect and decay.

Coruscant was called the Jewel of the Core Worlds, though not by most of its inhabitants, who felt it should have been called the City that Never Stops because the traffic was non-ending, whatever time of day or night.

In direct contrast, inside the Jedi Temple, peace permeated the inner halls, as ever-present as the statues and busts of former Masters. It was a haven-a place of contemplation and meditation, keeping the sounds and the smells of the city at bay.

Darya Emplar skipped down one polished and decorated corridor, playing with the badge of her new promotion: her Padiwan braid. She had just come from the ceremony, where she and eleven others had stood on the dais and Master Vash had carefully, tenderly braided their hair. The boys had then had the rest of their hair cut close to their scalps. Darya was glad she was a girl. The new Padiwans had stood on the dais, raised their right hands and repeated the Jedi Code and sworn their allegiance to the Order.

She had passed all the tests after a twelve year eternity as an apprentice. She knew, although it was a forbidden subject, part of the reason it had taken so long was because there were so few Masters left. No one had been chosen by a Master at the ceremony as it was done in the past

First had been the Mandalorian Wars, then the Jedi Civil War-Jedi against Jedi. It was hard for her young mind to grasp the concept of so many turning from the Light to embrace the Dark Side.

She detoured through the Room of a Thousand Fountains, pausing at each reflecting pool to admire the skinny braid at the side of her face. Right now, the rest of her past-the-shoulder length hair was loose. Usually she kept it restrained in a thick braid so it would not get in her face while she was practicing with her lightsaber.

She was so happy and proud. She had studied hard all these years, learning to live by the Jedi Code, constructing her own lightsaber, and following the tenants of the Knights and Masters, although she had little contact with the latter. It fell to the Knights of the Order to train the apprentices in mind, body and spirit. Her days were divided between her studies, which included the Jedi histories in the Hall of Archives and her physical training.

Darya loved to roam through the lighted computer panels stretched out in long corridors. She itched to view the knowledge stored in them, but someone her age and rank was not allowed to see anything other than the basics of the Order. Darya suspected this taboo was also a result of the wars. There must be knowledge about the Sith and the fallen Jedi stored away in the banks of computers, but those forbidden sections were accessible only by the Masters.

She was allowed to enjoy the fountains, and reveled at the sound of all the waterfalls and fountains washing over her senses. Green grass and flowers were woven through the duracrete walkways. Every few yards, carved in relief on the path was the Jedi Code. Darya kept walking until she found her favorite: There is no emotion. There is peace. When the duracrete had become worn three years ago, new had been poured and Darya had sneaked out of her dorm at night to write her name in the fresh crete before it set. It was very small and you had to know where to look.

She glanced around, and then brushed back the soil from the edge of the crete, and there it was, her name. If she could only add Padiwan before it, she thought, giggling at the thought of her tiny act of rebellion.

Darya Emplar It was still there-still her little secret-and she still felt a tiny thrill at not always being the good girl.

"I knew I would find you here."

Darya whirled, color flooding her cheeks. "I-yes, Zez, I was just-" She wanted to bite her tongue and start all over and not feel like she was caught doing something terrible.

There was something different about the way Zez was dressed-yes, it was a robe, and the earring he always wore still dangled -almost disappearing into his long hair, but it was not the plain Knight robe. He was-why he was...

"You-you're wearing a Master's robe!" Darya exclaimed as she tried to use the toe of her soft calf-high boot to cover up her name in the duracrete before he saw it. "Oh, I was so self-absorbed with my promotion. The Council made you a Master. I thought it was to be later this week. I marked it on my data pad."

"They moved it up." He frowned as if he was wondering what the reason might be. When you lived in the Order as long as Zez had, you knew the Council never did anything without a reason and sometimes, an ulterior motive.

"Master Zez-Kai Ell," Darya said as if tasting the name. "Sounds good."

He chuckled. "I wanted to be the first to congratulate you, Padiwan. " His voice was deep and rich and just the sound of it calmed the turmoil within her.

"You taught me the Ataru stance, and that helped me pass my saber test. Master Kavar was surprised I could tell. He said it was advanced and aggressive and he hadn't expected anyone in my class to know it." She smiled up at him, giving him an impish grin. "I won't tell."

His dark eyes twinkled, his thick moustache moving when his mouth did, which always drew her attention to his face. "I've been watching your progress. I was pleased."

"You've been watching?" Darya moved to the side so he would not be able to see the duracrete behind her.

Zez folded his arms over his chest and nodded solemnly, although his fond smile belied his body language. "Just don't let Master Vrook see that or he'll have you out here with a paver and some crete to cover up what he would call graffiti." His shoulders shook with silent amusement. "I did the same thing when I was a Padiwan. That's when you start to question everything. It can be a dangerous time."

"I won't fall to the Dark Side, Master," she told him, her heart in her eyes.

That she loved him, he knew. He didn't know if she knew how much he loved her. Had his choice been different-if he could have a daughter, he would have wanted her to be Darya. He had taken her under his wing since her arrival. He had seen her potential to be great in the Force. She had a natural humility and delight for sentients of all species. She had a power greater than most of the Masters, but she would need guidance and time to tame the wild energies that surrounded her.

"I have no doubt of that," he told her, putting her at ease.

"I know, since Revan and Malak, the Masters are always worried we will follow down their path."

"If you know this, then you also know this is a subject we do not talk about." His voice became stern.

Darya hung her head. Zez had been her mentor for twelve years and one word from him meant more to her than the entire Jedi Council's pronouncements. "I'm sorry. I-didn't mean-"

He fought down the disappointment he always experienced at just the mention of Revan and Malak. He had known them and he had never thought they would turn against the Republic and their brothers and sisters of the Order. "Your ability is manifesting through the Force-getting stronger every day." He laid a fatherly hand on her shoulder. "You have to learn how to control it, Darya."

"I know. I meditate, but that seems to open me up to the visions even more. How can I shut myself off from them if they are my gift from the Force?"

"Because a Force Empath can take in too much of the emotions and the physical pain of those near her. You go even further because of your ties in the Force: you can reach into the future, even the past and it causes you to suffer as they suffer." He gently curled his big hand around her Padiwan braid. "I was waiting for the Council to make me a Master, and now the time has come, and I would like to take you as my Padiwan."

"Me?" Darya was thrilled, but stunned. Out of a class of twelve he chose her. "May I ask why?"

"With your abilities, you will make a great Consular. I will teach you how to block the pain and injuries so you do not suffer the same fate of the ones you Force cast."

"I try not to let it happen, Master Zez. I am drawn to them...I try to heal them."

"I know, Darya. Did you know your name means ‘compassion' in Basic? Nobody deserves the name more. I want you report to my quarters at 0:6:00 tomorrow. You are leaving behind your apprentice days, and I will begin the advanced training, including how to block others from your mind." He laid a gentle hand on her head.

"You remind me of home." He sighed softly as he told her of Dantooine, his homeland. "Your eyes are the color of the plains when the grass waves in the temperate breeze. Your hair is streaked with the browns, tans, and gold when the weather cools and the green fades." His hand released her braid.

Darya clasped her hands in front of her and spoke past the lump in her throat. "I would be honored to be your Padiwan, Master."

When he saw her holding back, he rolled his eyes. "Yes? What is it you want to ask?"

"I was wondering,"Darya said slowly, "I was wondering if I could build a double-bladed lightsaber like yours."

She could tell by his expression he had not expected such a request. "My hope lies that you will become a Consular."

She cut her eyes up at him. "Even Consulars have to fight sometimes, don't they?"

Zez contemplated her with a deep frown on his broad face. "You are very delicate and small-boned, Padiwan. Mastering a dual-blade may be beyond your strength." He reached into his robe pocket and held something behind his back. He noted her disappointment. Darya never could hide anything from him. Her features were as open and pure now as they were when he had first met her. "I have a graduation present for you." He held up a brilliant stone that sparkled violet and indigo. "This crystal came from the Crystal Cave on Dantooine. I believe it will make an excellent focus crystal for your lightsaber."

Darya opened her hand and he placed the crystal in her palm. She stared down at it, and then looked up at him, tears shining in her green eyes. "It's violet, like yours."

"That color is very rare-as are you, my young Padiwan."

Darya knew the rule: Jedi were not allowed attachments, so she had to fight down the impulse to give him a hug and a kiss on his cheek. "This means-the world to me, Master. I-thank you so much!"

"You are welcome, and I will see you tomorrow. Enjoy your new status."

As Zez departed, Darya's joy spun out of control. Not only was she a Padiwan, she had been chosen by a Master, and he had given her a rare and beautiful crystal. She tucked it carefully into the pouch on her belt, flung her arms above her head and twirled until she was dizzy.

She collapsed, laughing, staring at her pink face in the reflecting pool. "You just took your first step into a larger world," she said, winking.

Then it happened-electrifying and more intense than ever before. When the Force gave her a vision, Darya never had any warning. The present melted away, and like flashes in a dream, the vision superimposed itself over reality.

A woman lay on a stone floor, an enlarging blossom of blood about her head. Her hair was blonde. Part of her skull was matted and clotted. Her skin was pale grey, but it was her eyes that made Darya recoil.

They were wide open in horror. Deep within the retinas, her killer was engraved. Her mouth was open in a silent scream.

Darya fought against it, but the Force drew her deeper into the vision.

A voice...male...malevolent. "You owe no loyalty to those sad relics who call themselves Jedi. They sat in their councils and pondered while the Mandalorians turned worlds into acidic vapor and ash."

The voice that answered was faint, weak...familiar. "I swore allegiance to the Jedi Code and the wisdom of the Masters."

The cold male voice mocked. "That hand? Did you pledge with that hand?"

And, suddenly Darya was screaming and clutching at her right hand, knowing the pain's origin was Master Keely. The pain radiating from it felt like the day she had lost her mother. She allowed those memories to flow into her brain to drown out the present burning pain.

Their freighter, bound for Telos, had been attacked by space pirates , causing the power coupling in their room to explode.. Darya's mother had thrown herself between her child and the bolts of plasma energy, but, although shielded, Darya had suffered burns on her neck and shoulders and some of her hair had been burned off. Her father had found them and had carried his daughter to an escape pod just as the pirate ship's guns blew up the freighter. Her mother had not survived.

Darya had been four years old, and she still carried the scars-white ridges on her skin. When her hair grew back, she had a wide, white streak that was now concealed by the Padiwan braid.

She lost herself in the past to avoid the pain of the present.

When the pod had crashed on the surface of Telos, Darya and her father were found by a group of scientists. One of them had been a candidate for Jedi training and had not succeeded. They had taken her to a medic, who told her it was a miracle she survived. Dak, the wannabe Jedi, had told her father there was another reason she lived through the explosion: Darya possessed the Force and Dak had urged her father to take her to the nearest enclave to be tested.

Darya's father had never been much of a parent, preferring to roam the galaxy gambling and drinking. A four year old girl had not fit into his plans, so he was delighted to hand her over to Dak and leave without a good-bye to his daughter or shed a tear at the loss of his wife.

Darya had been inconsolable, and the pain and loss she experienced, was more than a child should have to bear. Dak had told her to reach inside herself, to heal herself, and somehow, she had done it. Dak and the others had gone in together to and paid her passage to Coruscant.

It had been Dak, not her absent father, who held her hand, given her a farewell hug, then a gentle shove up the loading ramp to the transport. Tears had tracked down her cheeks, Dak, a Zabrak with colorful tattoos on his head and face, had become more a father to her than her biological one.

"Go. Do what I could not," he had said, smiling. "Become a Jedi."

And so, a forlorn, bedraggled four year old orphan had found her way to the Jedi Temple, been tested and found to be an amazing Force Adept. She'd been taken in and the Temple had become her home. She could not remember her father's face, but she had never forgotten Dak.

Darya called upon the Force to diminish the pain in her hand. She could not heal it because it was not hers. She withdrew again into the past.

When she arrived at the Jedi Temple, Zez had been the one to answer the door. He had been the one to argue her case to the Jedi Council. Master Vander, who was on the Council, but usually taught at the enclave on Dantooine, told her the Jedi preferred newborns and infants who had not yet experienced fear and anger.

"This is done because their established character traits could lead them to the dark side of the Force." This had been Master Vrook's counter-argument, but Zez had pointed out her exemplary powers, strong, yet wild and unpredictable and posed the question: could they turn someone like that away?

From that day, their bond had been formed.

Darya returned to the present and was relieved to find the pain had subsided enough for her not to need to escape any longer. She massaged her throbbing hand as she made her way to the training room, where she figured she might find Master Zez. He loved to practice with his double-bladed lightsaber every chance he got. She wanted to tell him about the vision and ask his advice.

Just as she left the Room of a Thousand Fountains, the next vision struck hard and pulled her into an unfamiliar room in the Jedi Temple. Her eyes widened as she saw tall, throne-like chairs, each occupied by a Jedi Master. Master Zez stood before them, and it was his voice she heard first.

This intel from the Republic spy is very disturbing. We sent Master Keely to the academy on Korriban. She was to infiltrate and find out if it is true that someone is killing Jedi there. She was to report back to us."

"She has not returned," Master Vandar said, his large green ears twitching and the wrinkles in his face deepening as his face sagged into sadness. "We fear the worst."

"But what can we do? Did the spy come up with a name? A description?" Master Atris always managed to sound as if she no time for this, whatever ‘this' was.

"No," Master Kavar spoke up. His wavy, brownish-blond hair was swept back from his forehead as he ran his hands through it. "Master Keely was the strongest of us when it comes to penetrating the weak-minded."

Master Zez sighed heavily. "Who says this Sith has a weak mind?"

"I am beginning to think that he-" Atris began, but was cut off by Master Vash's soft, gentle voice.

"We have not been able to establish whether this Sith is male or female. Even when we meditated together, using the Force to make mind contact, we were blocked."

"Which leads me to think this Sith is different from their usual cut-throat murderers. I think he or she is Force sensitive."

"Oh, come on, Zez!" Atris spat.

"You come one," he said, keeping his voice calm. "Our numbers dwindle every day and I happen to believe the information the Republic spy gave us. There is someone at the Korriban Academy that is converting or killing Jedi."

"Which brings us to you,Zez," Kavar said smoothly, as his strong, agile fingers absently stroked the deep cleft in his chin. "And why you, who are not on this Council, are present at a secret meeting. We need your help. This threat has to be dealt with, and we think we know of a way to identify this murderer of our brethren."

Darya could see in Master Zez's face he thought he already knew the answer before he asked the question. "And how can I help?"

"Convince your newly-chosen Padiwan to use her power for the good of us all," Master Vrook said, sounding harsh and unyielding.

"If she can tap into this killer, then I will allow it, but I will not risk her life by sending her to Korriban. She is still a child! Barely sixteen! I am her Master, and as such, it is my duty to protect her."

"It is your duty to protect all Jedi," Atris contradicted. "If Darya can ‘see' this killer from a distance, good-if she needs to be closer, then it is a risk we are willing to take."

Master Zez's moustache trembled as he fought down his anger at Atris's heartless attitude.

"The needs of the majority outweigh one Padiwan," Atris said, one snow-white eyebrow arching.

"I wonder if that is what every Master or Council said to the lost ones before sending them to their deaths," Master Zez said sourly. "I will ask Darya to use her power to find this killer, but that is all I will do."

"Zez, if you ever hope to sit upon this Council!" Atris snapped.

"Stop!" Kavar ejected himself from his chair, his robe swirling about his feet. "This meeting is over. When we start bickering among ourselves, then it is time to reflect and to meditate on what course we should take."

"I do not wish to place the child in danger," Vandar said, his voice breaking into a higher register then slipping back down into a deeper tone, as it did when he was upset.

"We have no choice, Master Vandar." Master Vrook had not been able to contribute much because of the heated discussion between Atris and Zez. His brows drew together in a scowl.

The vision ended and Darya discovered she was sitting, dazed, on the polished floor. She had just barely regained her feet when she saw Master Zez coming down the steps that led to the Grand Council Chamber. He looked upset and when he saw her, she could see the internal battle he fought, and she approached him.

"The killer is male, Master."

This did not have the effect she wanted. Zez looked confounded, and then a little frightened. "How? How did you know? Were you listening at the door?"

She shook her head. " I would never do that, Master. It was the Force-another vision. I saw Master Keely tortured by him. I could not see him-just his eyes and I heard his voice. I would like to try to help the Council, Master."

"Can you do this at will, or does the Force work through you when it wants?" Zez had never experienced one of Darya's visions.

"I meditate, which opens me to the Force, and I see what happens."

"Come with me. I want you somewhere I can observe. If you contact him when he is killing...well, I know you suffer. I can feel your pain right now." He made a swift gesture with his hand and Darya felt healing power flow into her and the pain was gone.

"He...cut off her hand-the hand we raise when we pledge to live by the Jedi Code and honor the Order's teachings." She swallowed hard. "I have never felt anyone so evil, Master."

"I will go with you to the fountains. I know the noise of the water soothes you. I used to meditate there, too." Master Zez put a hand on her arm and led her to the room.

They sat in a cross-legged meditation position on the grass beside a spouting fountain that was lighted to change colors and aid meditation.

Darya closed her eyes and put her forefingers and thumbs together. She took deep, cleansing breaths and opened herself to the Force.

She was in a vision, yet it was strange because she saw nothing. She listened and heard...18 + 2 = 20...

She concentrated harder. Whoever he was, his mind was not weak. It was like slamming into a wall. She began to sweat and her breath quickened. Let me in, she kept willing.

Then she saw it-a tiny crack in the wall. She sent her full will into that miniscule fissure, and thought she would scream when she heard his thoughts.

"They call me a butcher. I'm not. They can't know how much I hate this, but I have the rep, and if Master Uthar suspects, he'll tell Revan, and I can't face knowing I disappointed Revan. Revan saved us. Revan saved me! Revan told me the truth about Jedi. They deserve everything I do to them. I do this for Revan. I do it all for Revan."

Tears began to run down Darya's face, mingling with the sweat. Then she was knocked flat by a primal scream of rage.

"Get out of my hhhhhhhhhheeeeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaddddddddddddd!!!!"

Lust, impatience, hate, anger-numbers and more numbers, until she lost her connection, and lay in the grass sobbing as if her heart would break.

"Darya, are you all right?" Master Zez knelt beside her, cradling her head. There was concern in his eyes. "What happened? What did you see?"

"He's so lost, so trapped, Master." She spoke raggedly "He kills us, but he does not want to. He does it to please Revan."

Zez reacted as all the Masters did at the name of the Order's greatest failure: Revan. He cast the name from his memory and tried to ignore what flaws there might be in the Jedi Order to make such a young, promising Knight fall so far. "Can you tell me who he is? Did you see his face?"

Darya hung her head, a curtain of streaked hair descending to conceal her face. She pushed it back and wiped the tears from her eyes. She seemed to have aged, and her gaze had matured beyond her years. "I c-can't. I failed. I am so sorry."

Zez helped her to her feet. "You are not to worry about it. The Council will just have to find another way." He patted her on her scarred shoulder. "I'll see you first thing tomorrow."

Darya nodded. She stood there, watching him wend his way through the fountains and he was lost to view as he entered the elevator. She walked slowly in his wake. If she took the elevator it would take her to her dorm quarters. She turned the direction that would take her to her destiny. The climb up the stairs to the Jedi Council seemed to take forever. The great doors opened as she approached and Master Kavar motioned her inside.

"We have been expecting you, Padiwan. We felt your presence during the meeting." Master Vandar's wise eyes focused on her.

"I will go to Korriban, Masters," she told them. "If I get close to him I will know. He must be stopped."

"We will provide you with a snub-fighter and a transport," Master Vash said, her face showing her trepidation.

"You are to be commended for your courage, Padiwan, but be ever mindful of the risk. The Dark Side will be very strong on Korriban."

Darya stifled a cough behind one hand as she acknowledged Master Vrook's warning. She suddenly had a very dry throat. She turned from their circle of concerned faces.

Darya went to the workbench in the training room and installed the violet crystal in her lightsaber. She switched it on and admired its beautiful color. She assumed the Ataru stance, and then stood at attention in tribute to her teacher. She turned it off and attached it to her belt.

She stopped by her quarters, wondering what to take. This was a suicide mission. She knew it, and the Council knew it; that was why she had not told Master Zez. He would have forbidden her to go, and as his Padiwan, she would have been honor-bound to obey his orders.

Barely sixteen, going to her death, Darya reached deep within and fortified herself with the Force and a courage she did not know she possessed. She equipped a stealth belt and activated it so no one would see her and stop her, although she wished someone would stop her. She was scared-so scared. Stomach skittering, eyes watering, heart pounding as if it would burst from her chest, she left the Temple and deactivated the stealth generator. She took the credit chip the Council have given her from her pocket and paid a fare to the space port and docking bay where the Republic snub fighter was docked. When she arrived, she found the pilot leaning against the port side. He removed his helmet as she approached.

"Well, I never expected to see you again, Streak."

"Dak?" She gaped at the Zabrak. "How?"

"The Force moves in mysterious ways." He grinned and gazed down fondly at her. "You sure didn't grow up much, did you, Streak?" He pulled her into a brief hug and gave her a kiss on the cheek. "Pretty as ever."

"You are along for the ride only, Dak. This mission is mine."

"Sounds serious."

She blew out a big breath, realizing she had been holding it since the Council had given her the assignment. Some of her dread was expelled with it.

"You can fill me in once we get airborne." He executed a sloppy salute. "Okay, Streak. Uh, where are we going?" he asked as they boarded the ship.

"Korriban."

"You're kidding!"

"I wish I was."

Darya saw her face reflected in one of the viewing screens. "You can do this," she whispered to the pale face.

*** Dreshdae Korriban ***

The small town of Dreshdae was the only colony on the planet. It was located near the Valley of the Dark Lords. Dak had warned Darya before she exited the snub fighter that Czerka Corporation, responsible for funding the Sith empire, had its headquarters there.

In the docking bay, Darya paid her docking fee with the credit voucher chip. She had chosen not to wear her robe, and concealed her lightsaber in a hidden pocket of the long, loose-fitting vest Dak had given her. She wore a long-sleeved shirt tucked into dark pants, and a holstered blaster strapped to her right leg. She hoped the outfit made her look older, because B'ree, a merchant a short walk from the Port Authority, had told her the place to find information was the cantina at the very end of the hall, just before the door that led out to the Sith Academy. She was told to talk to the Rodian barkeep, Mike Dorin.

Although she expected it, Darya encountered no Sith as she walked, trying to blend in with the locals. She entered the cantina and waved the bartender over, offering 25 credits for information about any unusual Sith personnel. He took the credits, but told her only that the cantina was a Sith hang-out, and if the one she was looking for was on the planet, he would show up there eventually.

Darya sank onto a bar stool, feeling very out of place. She cushioned her chin on the heel of one hand and leaned on the bar, wondering what to do next.

Someone nearby mentioned Toll Apkar, the local Pazaak wiz, and pointed him out. A young man at Apkar's table spotted Darya, and as his sparkling brown eyes noted her beauty, a smile tugged at a very cynical mouth. He cashed out and swaggered in her direction. He crooked a finger at Mika and ordered a drink. The barkeep set the drink in front of Darya.

"Mind if I buy you a drink?"

When she looked at the Pazaak player, Darya's green eyes met melting brown. He stuck out a hand.

"Jaq, at your service." When she held out her hand, his closed over it and his thumb roamed over her palm, tickling it and causing her to withdraw from what felt more than a handshake. His smile faded and his eyes grew less warm. "Little girl fresh off the farm, I bet. What would bring you to Korriban?"

"And why are you here, Jaq?" she countered with more spunk than she felt.

Jaq chuckled, running long, limber fingers through disheveled black hair. "You look like someone I can tell the truth. I'm a smuggler." He drew a finger to his lips. "Shhhhhh!"

Darya could tell he was not telling the truth. Uneasiness tugged at her, and she became more wary.

He plopped onto the stool next to her and tapped the frosted glass. "Not gonna drink?" He dug a small tube out of his vest pocket and applied it to his lips, and when he noted her interest, he explained," Space travel dries ‘em out. Makes you really, really thirsty, too."

"I...don't think I should."

He shrugged. "Mind if I do?"

She shrugged in return and he took a deep draught from the glass, making a loud noise of enjoyment. "Ummm, cold! Really hits the spot."

Darya suddenly realized she was very thirsty. Although space travel made travelers inordinately thirsty and hungry, Dak had warned her not to accept any food or drink from a stranger. But she had just seen Jaq drink from her glass. What harm could it do?

Hesitantly, wondering what alcohol would taste like, she dug out an ice cube and popped it into her mouth, but she just got thirstier. By now the frost was gone from the glass and the ice cubes melted. She decided the alcohol would be diluted enough not to affect her. She picked up the glass and drained it, gulping it down as if she had not had anything to drink in several days.

"The Jedi have got to be kidding-sending a neophyte to do their dirty work."

Darya's eyes drooped and her vision blurred. She was hearing his thoughts. Somehow he had drugged her and...

Jaq caught her as she began to slide off the stool. He whispered in her ear. "You Jedi are too damned insulated. You watched me apply the antidote, angel, and never caught on-until it was too late." He patted her hands, turning them over to inspect the palms. "And you are also predictable. You Jedi never wear gloves to hide the calluses. Lightsabers make very distinctive calluses." He motioned to the barkeep and Mika came over to support Darya while Jaq returned to the Pazaak table and flung something over his arm.

Jaq spoke into his comm-link. "I need two soldiers in the cantina for a pick-up. Now."

He went out to the hallway, then toward the door leading to the Sith Academy. There was no one around, so he unfolded the black robe and put it on, jerking the cowled hood up to insure his anonymity. He pulled out black gloves from the pocket of his flak vest and pulled them on, flexing his fingers until the soft, supple leather fit perfectly.

The door opened and two Sith came in and saluted. He gestured to the cantina and the unconscious girl. "Bring her to the interrogation chamber. I shall be with her shortly."
"You want us to put her on the table, sir?" Seth asked.

"Sure, go ahead. Why should I have all the fun?" His laugh chilled them so much they turned on the heat in their suits as they carried out the Reaper's next victim.

***Sith Academy-Interrogation Chamber***

There were shadows on the ceiling and the walls. The dead Jedi had not been allowed to rejoin with the Force because this place was steeped so deeply in the Dark Side, and their spirits were damned to haunt this room where they had died.

Still unconscious, Darya whipped her head from side to side and moaned as what had been done to them was done to her. She felt their pain and fear. She fought against their anger at their tormentor. And then all that was swept away and Darya was on another planet, and it was being destroyed. She saw a hooded figure and heard the screams of thousands echo from this unknown entity.

"I renounce you." It was the wail of a lost soul. "I don't want this anymore!"

Then the shadowed figure threw back its hood and Darya saw wounded blue eyes that held the pain of a galaxy. "I...am going to need him. He must atone so I can forgive him."

Darya's eyes flew open. She was terrified by this latest vision, and horrified to find herself only in her under garments, her wrists and ankles bound by restraints. She was suspended in midair, her weight, though slight, causing the cuffs to cut deeply into her flesh.

She gasped when she saw a black-robed figure standing before her, his arms folded over his chest. She knew who it was.

"What...happened?" she croaked hoarsely.

"I ask the questions here, Jedi." He said the last with hatred and spite.

"I'm not a Jedi. Yet. Please, Jaq. You don't have to do this!"

He doffed the robe and tossed it over a hook on the wall. "When will you sanctimonious Jedi get it through your dauracrete skulls? I know I don't have to. I want to!" He smiled, lips skinning back from his teeth like a Wookie when it senses fresh meat. He laid a gloved hand on her bare thigh, causing her to shiver as she felt his lust. "Beautiful," he drawled, then took his hand away and his voice lashed out at her. "How old are you?"

"S-sixteen."

He laughed humorlessly. "Six-fraggin'-teen, and the Order sent you here to find me?"

"I came to find you-to warn you that you must atone."

Jaq threw his head back and laughed for real this time. "Me? Atone? For what? Killing Jedi? The galaxy doesn't need Jedi hypocrisy anymore, sweetheart."
"Is that what you think, or did Revan...?"

He back-handed her "Do not speak that name lightly!"

Blood filled Darya's mouth and she turned her head to spit it out.

Jaq turned from her to a tray of torture instruments and a large hypodermic. "Hmmmm," he mused. "How to start?" He faced her again, the charming mask back on his face. "Do you know you can walk out that door without having to face any of this? Do you want to know how?"

"I w-won't reject what I believe in."

"What you believe in? Nah, you got it all wrong, honey. You're sixteen, so that means you've been their pawn for, oh, all your life?"
"Since I was four."

"Twelve years, then. All you have to do is renounce the Jedi and swear allegiance to Lord Revan. Simple. Life changing, I admit, but simple."

"I c-can't, Jaq. Please." She licked her lips. "Listen to me. I came to warn you...to stop if I can. You must stop this killing!"

Jaq gave a derisive snort and his smile was pure sarcasm. "Ah, nope. Not gonna happen." He picked up the hypo, shook his head, then his eyes gleamed as he decided just what punishment such a Lightsider needed.

"This taints your soul. And...and there is someone in your future. Someone you must protect. This person is the key...to the fate of the galaxy."

"Revan holds the fate of the galaxy," he shot back angrily. "The Republic and the Jedi will join or die!"

"I have seen what fate awaits you. I have seen what Revan intends for you-for all Force sensitives."

"That does it, you little Jedi whelp! I warned you. I don't have the Force, but I did rig up something to simulate Force lightning. Tell me how I did, will ya?" He jabbed a button on the computer terminal. "After you stop screaming that is."

Darya's body flailed as electricity arced through it. She screamed until her vocal chords gave out.

Jaq watched her torment, a look of satisfaction writhing over his features, then punched another button and turned off the juice. He took a vibro-dagger out of the top of his boot, seized Darya's hair and sliced off the Padiwan braid close to the scalp.

"You won't need that anymore," he told her cruelly. "Awake? Hey!" He slapped her cheeks hard and her eyes opened. Tears streamed from them. "Hurts doesn't it?" He licked his lips, anticipating amping up the torture even more, because he could tell this one was not going to be turned.

"I...feel their pain-all of it. I saw all you did to them. You...must...atone."

"Look, if you turn away from the Jedi, you live." Jaq frowned at her. He could feel her at the edges of his perception. She was trying to reach him by using the Force. He remembered the first time a Jedi had mind-melded with him. The agony Revan caused had slammed him to his knees, where he writhed and shrieked and called out for mercy, hearing her laughter as she used the Force like a scythe to cut open his mind and bind him to her, so that he was a puppet and she his Master. And this damn little girl thought she could penetrate his defenses? She thinks she has the power of Revan?
A vision of his fate at Revan's hands filled Jaq's mind. His hands flew to the sides of his head and he began struggling, unable to do anything more to her. She was doing it-somehow she was doing it!

"Jaq, they are all here. They're in my mind. They're trapped. Feel their pain. Feel their hopelessness. There is a dark place tainted with the Dark Side. Revan has Force sensitives taken there, and they are broken into dark Jedi or Sith assassins. They are slaves to Revan's will, with no lives of their own. Consumed by the dark. Lost. This is what will happen to you if you do not atone!"

"2 + 8 = 10-double that = 20!" Jaq fought back, seizing desperately upon any means to get her out of his mind.

"I gather the powers of my fallen brothers and sisters. Feel what you have done to us, Jaq! Atone!"

Jaq howled with fury and beat his head. "Get out of my head! I'll kill you!! Only Revan is allowed to..."

Darya's heart was full of compassion for him, and she pumped it into him, unraveling his thoughts, leveling his defenses. He took from her until her heart shuddered and its beat grew slower.

As Jaq fell to his knees, he bit through his lower lip. He wanted to kill her. He would kill her, but first he had to stop her from anymore mind rape. She had pushed Revan off the throne where she sat in the dark kingdom of his mind. Didn't she understand? Revan was everything to him. She ruled his black, twisted domain.

Darya poured compassion into him and Jaq was left with no defenses: no passion, no lust, nothing. He reached for Revan, but the Dark Lord had been purged...for now.

"Please, get out of my head," he begged, switching to another ploy.

"You must atone."

He gazed up and found green eyes dwelling on him. He stumbled to his feet, walked to the console and activated the switch that released the restraints. Darya fell to the blood-stained table below her.

Jaq treated her to a hurt look. "I don't know how...if...I can, "he confessed.

"I will help you," she said, still communicating with him with her mind. "Help me down."

Jaq came over and allowed her to lean on him so she could swing her legs over the side and reach the floor. He watched dully as she pulled on her clothes and boots and recovered her lightsaber. She stumbled and would have fallen if he hadn't moved quickly to catch her.

"Look, I'll let you go. Just no more Jedi mind tricks. That's fair, right?"

"You must leave. You must never see Revan again, or you will be taken away to that terrible place I showed you."

His Adam's apple danced in his throat. "No, I-I don't want to go there. It isn't going to be easy getting out of here. Could you pretend you've been turned in case we run into any Sith?"

Her nod told him she would try.

"The one we have to watch out for is Uthar. He likes to meditate right where we need to go to get to Dreshdae."

Darya did not tell Jaq she had taken into herself the spirits of the lost Jedi. Her goal was to release them once she had left their place of death. She also did not tell Jaq she was dying of broken bones and internal injuries he had inflicted on both her and the ones who came before her. Her strength gone, she drew upon the Force to sustain her.

She walked slowly behind Jaq, keeping one hand braced on the wall so she would not fall. The voices of the dead bolstered her determination. She kept seeing the one with the blue eyes. The one whose name she did not know and whom she thought of as The Exile. This was the Jedi in Jaq's future.

Jaq made a show of keeping his hands on his blasters. The mind invasion had affected him and his body shook and he suffered from a severe headache.

"Wait," he groaned as if he had just thought of something. "I forgot my robe. Garbed in black, I can make my way out of here without any trouble. The soldiers are terrified of me-call me the Reaper. The apprentices stay out of my way, too. Yeah, we need my robe. C'mon. Lean on me if you need to. Almost there..." He paused at the doorway to the torture chamber, and his dark eyes went bleak and cold.. "Revan calls me her fool. But who's more foolish-me or you, for trusting me?"

He took her totally by surprise when his fingers closed about her throat and began to tighten, to throttle her. "I'll kill you for getting inside my head. Nobody belongs there except Revan!" He clenched his teeth and lifted Darya off her feet.

She did not have the strength to physically fight him off, but she had a potent weapon. She closed her eyes, unable to even gasp for breath. Jaq was killing her! She realized that did not matter. She was not important. What mattered was he had tricked her and he had lied, concealing from her he meant to attack her when her guard was down. He must atone! She knew what she had to do to reach this soul that was mired so deeply in the Dark Side.

She called on the lost ones. "I call upon the Light and those that serve it. Break through his defenses! Blast him with the truth of his actions! Let him feel what he has dealt to others."
It was harder to break through his wall this time, but she was not alone. The lost Jedi aided her, attacking Jaq's mind. In her mind's eye, Darya saw his black wall and she saw her aura and the others' auras; beautiful colors swirling, floating, and then coalescing into one intense violet light. As if it were a lightsaber, Darya hurled it at the wall and it stabbed into the stone. The aura blade burned through the prison walls erected by Revan and then flared and spat fire as he pulled out his last gold Pazaak card.

He should have won the game, he thought as the pain spiraled in him. His arms grew weak; his hands were unable to keep their hold; and his fingers went numb and cold.

Darya was allowed a breath and a moment of clarity. The darkness within him was withdrawing, scurrying from the aura blade that scorched his wall. The full power of the Force returned to her, and she used a push to drive the saber through the wall.

"You must atone!" her mind shrieked at him. "Feel their pain! Experience it through their eyes. The Exile will need you! Atone! Atone!! Atone!!!"

Jaq collapsed to the floor and she landed on top of him. Jaq shuddered and jammed his fists into his eye sockets, trying to stop the tears. The dam had been breached and he felt all his victims had felt. What shocked and humbled him was they all forgave him. Even this girl he had just tried to strangle to death.

He took his hands from his eyes and looked at her, fearing she was dead. He saw the livid marks his fingers had left on her neck. He heard her shallow breathing.

"I'm...sorry," he said, meaning it. "I am so damn sorry."

Darya was unable to speak. She rolled off him, reached out and squeezed his hand, smiling wanly. He rose and helped her up.

"You have the Force within you, Jaq. How else could you hear me?"

Jaq moved through the doorway and returned with his robe. "One more time for the Reaper," he said and put on the dark costume. He glanced down at her, quirking a brow. "Okay, let's say, I am. I don't know how to use it, and we still have to get out of here."

"A teacher will come, and we will get out of here."

He grimaced and rubbed his temple with his free hand-the other was about her waist as he assisted her down the hallway. "This is worse than any hang-over. Come on. You...can't talk, can you? I...hurt you that bad?"

"Something in my throat is crushed."

"Great. No guilt there."

"And no guile within you anymore. Jaq, you must..."

He raised his hand to cut her off. "Yeah, yeah, I get it! Yes, if we get out of this, I'm ready to atone." He gave the tip of her nose a tiny tap. "As for you, you need to amp down the Force vibes or Uthar will pick up on ‘em. We get past him, we're safe." When she faltered, he added," Can you walk? By yourself I mean?" She shook her head and he supported her until they reached a junction. He propped her against the wall and peeked around the corner, before taking them down the hall to the left, keeping them in the deep shadows close to the wall. At the end of the hall, he stopped.

"Stay here." He made sure Darya was supported by the wall. "I'm going to see if Uthar's there."

He crept inside the huge, round chamber to discover it was deserted. When he made his way back to her, Darya was slumped on the floor. Blood leaked from her ears, nose, and the corners of her mouth. Jaq pulled her up, draped her arm over his shoulder and half-dragged her across the chamber to the door that led outside.

He pulled the cowl forward and kept his hands on her shoulders, steadying her. "You'll need to walk on your own or they won't go for the act."

There was the expected guard outside the academy. Jaq fought down the nervous impulse to talk to him and swept haughtily by, Jedi in tow. Rafe noted her condition and thought about how much he hated guard duty. He saluted the Reaper, not knowing it was for the last time.

Jaq mentally counted the steps they took across a small, sandy patch, up the ramp that ended at the unguarded door to Dreshdae. Jaq took off the heavy robe and tossed it over the edge into the sand below.

He punched in the code to the door. "I can't believe how lucky we've been," he exulted. "Hang on. Don't give up on me now." He used his sleeve to wipe the blood from her face.

"Can't you Jedi heal yourselves?"

When she looked at him, he knew she was doing all she could with her waning resources.

"Not that I care, but all that blood will draw unwanted attention."

Darya's pain-filled gaze told him she knew he did care. She closed her eyes, and, with what Jaq knew was a supreme effort, the bleeding stopped. She smiled weakly up at him and his heart skipped a beat. He loved her in that moment-but it was not a physical or sexual kind of love. It was a love like he had never known-the love of someone willing to give his life for a stranger. The same type of love she felt for him.

"Some day we're both gonna laugh about this," he said as the door to Dreshdae grated open to reveal a tall, imposing armorplast droid with glowing photoreceptors. It was armed with a plasma projector rifle.

"Statement: Ah, there you are, meat bag."

"Hey, who you calling a meat bag, you overgrown pile of rubbish!" Jaq's hand slid toward his blaster.

"Proud answer: I am HK-47, personal assassin droid to Revan. Query: Would you rather I call you Objective?"

"What do you want with me?"

"Sneering reply: I do not require anything of you, Objective. Tired Explanation: It is my Master's wish that I escort you to the Trayus Academy."

Under cover of her robe, Jaq used his free hand and slipped his blaster out of its holster and thumbed on the power pack. "And what if I don't want your company?"
"Query: Are you resisting, Objective? Please confirm so I can place you in torture restraints and watch you scream and twitch all your squishy parts."

"Now!" Jaq hissed.

Darya was able to dredge up enough energy to direct a Force push at the menacing droid and knocked it off its feet. Before it could recover or bring its weapon to bear, Jaq had its front panel open and had deactivated it. He used a special slicing tool he had devised and removed four key components, leaving the droid's chest cavity sparking.

"What are you doing?" Darya had no physical voice; from now on until she knew would be the end, she would speak to Jaq with her mind.

He winced and gave her a small scowl at the renewed pain in his head. "Revan sent her personal assassin droid to get me. Revan's a genius when it comes to repairing droids, so if I take those parts and give the main body to Czerka before we leave, it will make it a lot more difficult for her rusty toy to come after me, and give me time to get lost."

Darya watched Jaq drag the droid, which seemed surprisingly light. Fortunately, the Czerka office was both nearby and open, and the attendant didn't bat an eye when he saw the battered HK unit. He gave Jaq a small sum of credits for it and didn't ask about the missing parts.

Jaq helped Darya to the Port Authority, where he handed three of the parts to the Twilek on duty. "These need to go out on ships bound for Onderon, Dantooine and Peragus." He handed the Twilek a handful of credits. "Have them delivered to the Czerka offices on those planets."

As Jaq and Darya walked up the ramp to the snub fighter, he tossed the processor in his left hand. "This goes with me to Nar Shaddaa. There's a refugee camp there, and I guess that's where I end up."

"Get away from her!"

Jaq was struck hard with something and flailed backwards, arms wind-milling wildly as he managed to catch his balance. Without his support, Darya shuddered and fell against Dak, spoiling his aim as he raised his vibro-blade to strike Jaq again.

She could not speak, but her green eyes pleaded with Dak as he caught her in his arms. She sent her last thoughts to him and Jaq. "Do not harm him, Dak. He must atone! For the Exile to forgive, he must atone. He...must...live. Take...hi-him...t-to...Nar...Sh-Sha...ddaa. Jaq, I..for...give...you."

Darya released her hold on life and became one with the Force. As she died, her delicate mouth formed a last little smile because she was not alone, and she could see, even as her eyes glazed over, the effect her death had on Jaq. Her last thought was," He will atone, Exile, so you can forgive him as I did,"

Dak gently carried her into the ship. Jaq followed, dark eyes haunted, chest heaving, unashamed as dry sobs wracked him.

"I don't understand," he rasped as Dak strapped Darya's body into the passenger seat. "What happened? Why do I feel this way? Why did she die for me?"

"She was a Jedi," Dak said simply. He finished with Darya's seatbelts and glared at Jaq. "This fighter's not equipped with a hyper drive, so we have to rejoin the ship we docked with after we left Coruscant. If you come with us, the captain will take you to Nar Shaddaa, and then I'm taking her home, to the Jedi Temple."

"You hate my guts, don't you?"

Dak fought to hold on to his temper. He wanted to slice Jaq to pieces. His hands tightened on the hilt of the weapon he had stashed under his seat, then he let go. He would respect Darya's dying wish. "Strap in and keep your mouth shut." His black eyes blazed with anger and loss.

Jaq took the other passenger seat and did not speak again until they landed on the flight deck of the Corellian transport. "I, uh, guess I owe you my thanks." He rose, stretched his legs and followed Dak to the ramp.

"Atone!" Dak snapped, pushing him hard down the exit. "Run!" The implication was that, if Jaq stayed, he would not survive.

He hurried out of the small fighter and across the flight deck. Run. Atone. Run. Atone!

The captain of the ship was an Ithorian. He handed Jaq the ship manifest. "Sign," he said in Ithorian and Jaq scratched his head and looked around to the flight deck crew for some help. "Uh, anybody catch that? All I got was ‘gelfa'." Receiving no help, he took the data pad. He stared at it blankly. The litany still ran in his head. Atone. Run. Atone. Run.

"Sign, please," the captain repeated.

Jaq wrote without thinking. Atone. Run.

The Ithorian captain accepted the manifest back and scratched his huge head. "I do not understand Basic very much," he confessed. "Your name? Does this say Atton Rand?"
Dark eyebrows crept into untidy black hair as Jaq craned his neck so he could see what he had signed, and then he nodded. "Close enough."

The captain nodded and moved away, its large feet lumbering, making it look as if it moved in slow motion.

"If you don't mind, Cap, I'd like to go to my quarters. I...lost my only friend tonight." Yet he did not move. He watched as the ramp rose, its hydraulics hissing, and the small fighter ascended, turning to leave the docking bay.

***Several Years Later-Nar Shaddaa***

Atton gazed into large blue eyes, knowing the Exile would either hate him or forgive him. "She saved me-me! And I never even knew her name."

"Perhaps she felt a greater good would be served with your salvation." The compassion displayed on the Exile's beautiful face reminded Atton of the little Jedi Padiwan, and he swallowed hard.

"Maybe. Maybe she saved me so that I could help you. And if I can't, then I have to try."

The Exile's smile was warm, and something inside Atton's hard shell melted as she took his hands and gazed deep into his dark eyes. "Then I welcome your help.

"She saved me. You are so much like her, taking on the feelings of others. You feel our pain, and you save us in spite of ourselves. Little Jedi, somewhere in the Force, I hope you see-you know-you didn't die in vain You gave me a chance at life...at love...with her...if she'll have me."

Was it just his imagination, or did he hear a silvery little laugh and feel a whisper of a touch on his shoulders as he knelt with the Exile. His Exile. And finally, Atton Jaq Rand, accepted what he had fought against for so many years. He became a Jedi Sentinel. He rose and followed his new Master, and there was a calm and peace present in him, expelling the darkness within...forever.

END