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Chapter Text

The Leviathan was so silent now, its corridors echoing with the ghostly remnants of blaster fire and hurried footsteps. I knelt on the cold durasteel floor of the containment cell, with my wrists bound behind my back by cuffs that hummed with faint, electrified pulses.

 I could still hear the echoes of  my own voice, urging Revan to leave—to save himself and the others. He had hesitated. I felt it through their bond, a fleeting pulse of anguish and refusal as the blast doors sealed between them. That brief moment, when our eyes met for what might have been the last time, was burned into my memory. His lips had parted as if to call me back, but there was no other way.

I had no other choice, but it didn’t stop the ache in my chest.

Revan wasn't ready. He had just discovered the truth about… himself. I felt it had broken him—his emotions were running wild: confusion about who he was, doubt about whether it was true, and anger at having been lied to. Had he stayed, he wouldn’t have been able to fight properly. Even worse, he might have let his emotions go unchecked and succumbed to the dark side.

Now, only the emptiness of Revan’s absence loomed around me, heavier than the Force-dampening field that surrounded the cell, almost completely cutting me off from the Force.

I tried focusing on Revan’s presence across the stars, searching for the faintest trace of him. But the bond was distant now—a thread stretched thin—and the Force-suppressing field didn’t help. At least he was alive. At least he was safe. That was the only thought that calmed me: knowing he was okay.

He will find the last Star Map and will come to resc…

The hiss of the door broke my concentration. I didn’t need to look up to know who had entered. The Force was a storm around him—dark, oppressive, suffocating. Darth Malak.

His boots clanged sharply against the durasteel floor as he approached, his hulking shadow falling over me. I forced myself to meet his gaze, my defiance nothing more than a fragile shield against the predator that loomed before me.

I had heard the stories of what the siths did with their prisoners, even the masters didn't come back unscared. 

I just had to hold on long enough to survive, until Revan or the Jedi could rescue me.

“Ah, Bastila Shan,” Malak said, his deep voice laced with mockery. “The Republic's last hope. How noble of you to throw yourself on hell for your friends—and for him .”

Was he already trying to get under my skin or just mocking my choice? Well, regardless… “I regret nothing,” I said, my voice steady despite the cold tendrils of fear curling in my stomach.

“Don’t you?” His mechanical jaw shifted in what might have been a smirk. “You will, or maybe, soon enough, you will be glad you did that. Glad you were capture”

I heard the sound of footsteps as others entered the cell, and two Sith came into view, hauling me roughly to my feet. I tried not to flinch, even though the cuffs dug painfully into my wrists. But I would endure. I had to—for Revan, for the others, for the Jedi.

I lost track of time when they dragged me to a temple.

This place was a monstrosity, a labyrinth of shadow and rooms steeped in the dark side. I could feel its oppression seeping into my mind, pressing against the edges of my will like waves battering a shore. The Force itself was twisted and wrong. I felt suffocated.

How could something like this exist?

I was bound to a contraption in the center of a crimson-lit chamber, my arms stretched above my head. Malak stood before me, his presence in the Force like a vice around my throat.

“You are strong, Bastila,” he said, his tone almost admiring. “Stronger than one would anticipate for someone your age. But this strength without direction is meaningless.”

“I have direction,” I spat, my voice hoarse. “The force guides me.”

Malak chuckled, low and humorless. “Then the force has abandoned you.” he said mockingly. ”The Jedi have abandoned you. Where are they now that you need them? What do you think the Jedi will do when they learn you’ve been captured?”

Pain lanced through me as he raised his hand, the Force wrapping around my mind and pulling. Memories flooded my vision—my childhood on Talravin, the loss of my father, my, now diminished, hatred for my mother, the Jedi Council’s cold demands, my time with Revan and my choice to sacrifice myself for him. 

I knew he was trying to get under my skin, to make me doubt. But it was stinging more than I wanted to admit. The Council had always been distant, clinical in their decisions. Even my connection with them felt mostly impersonal, as if I were a piece on a dejarik board rather than a living being. Even my separation from my family was their demand.

Still, I forced myself to meet Malak’s gaze.

“You were there when they needed you,” he whispered, his voice slithering into my thoughts. “but when you need them the most, they abandon you . ”

My bond with Revan flickered faintly, like a star on the edge of a black hole.”They didn't abandon me!” I clung to it with all my strength, even as the darkness of this place pressed in. “He will find me,” I said, though the words trembled as they left my lips. “He always does.”

“Revan,” Malak said, drawing the name out as if savoring it. “The man you so desperately cling to. Tell me, Bastila—what is he to you? A savior? A leader? Or something... more?”

I flinched at his insinuation, and his expression like a smirk widened. “Ah, I see. How tragic, then, that he can’t save you now. That he won’t save you.”

“He will,” I said confidently, in the steadiest voice I could muster. “I know he will.”

We were so close to getting the last Star Map, just one more piece and he can come here. He will turn Korriban up-side down if that means finding the map. No one could stop him from doing something when he was setted on doing. And I know he won't abandon me here.

Malak leaned closer, his breath cold against my cheek. “Perhaps. But, I wonder, what will he find of you?” As he said this word, he raised his hands and let a storm of lighting direct into me.

The lightning tore through me, I could feel it in every nerve as if they were on fire. 

I screamed and screamed, Until I had no more strength in my lungs!

 My knees buckled, but the restraints held me upright, forcing me to endure every agonizing moment. The pain was  endless, sharp and unyielding, as if my soul was being torn apart.

 My vision blurred, tears—that I didn't even know I could still shed—streaking down my face, and my breath came in ragged gasps.

So painful!

Somewhere in the haze of agony, I felt Malak’s presence, cold and commanding, a shadow that pressed against the edges of my mind. Looking at him, I instinctively tried to move backward, but the chains held me in place.

Malak paced slowly around me, his voice a low rumble that seemed to echo off the stone walls. “You said that the Jedi would rescue you, but do you even know where you are, Bastila?” he asked, his tone almost mocking.

I kept my head high, refusing to show the fear curling in my stomach. “We are in the Star Forge. Well, it doesn’t matter, they will come regardless,” I said. The air here was so heavy, thick with moisture and the faint metallic tang. The Force here was twisted, ancient, and wrong, just like in the places we found the Star map.

“Oh, but it does matter,” he said, his voice dipping lower. He stopped just behind me, close enough that I could feel the cold aura of his presence pressing against my back and if it could drown me. “You, their last hope, don’t even know here is this place? Perhaps you’re not as smart as I thought.”

I clenched my fists, the cuffs biting into my skin. “You won’t rattle me with games, Malak.”

His laughter was slow and deliberate, each sound slicing through the oppressive silence. “This is Rakata Prime,” he said finally, his voice filled with satisfaction. “The system of the Star Forge, the cradle of the dark side’s greatest power. The place you have been searching for in your travels across the galaxy, but this is not the Star Forge.” He stepped in front of me now, his gaze piercing. “But now you are here so close to it.”

Rakata Prime. The name hit me like a blaster bolt, dredging up the memories from my time with Revan—ancient ruins, the Rakata’s fallen empire, and the Star Forge’s unspeakable power. This place was our final destination, the place where was the sith greatest power. And here it was. And so was I. But alone.

I could feel him trying to smile. How can someone be so evil?. He raised another hand and prepared another round of lighting.

Time blurred into a haze of pain and exhaustion. I no longer knew how many days— or maybe weeks?—I had been confined to this hellish chamber, how many times Malak’s voice had dripped poison into my ears.

“You must see it now,” he said, pacing before me. “The Jedi are weak. They demand obedience, but they offer no true strength. You could change that, Bastila. You could be far more.”

My head hung low, my breaths shallow. “You speak of strength,” I muttered. “But all I see is a coward.”

Malak’s laughter reverberated through the room. “And what are you, then? A pawn of a Council too afraid to act? A lover too afraid to admit the truth?”

My head snapped up, and Malak’s smirk would have widened if he had a mouth. “Ah, yes. Revan. Do you truly believe he will forgive you for all you did against him? If so, do you think you have a future with him? Or have you forgotten the Jedi’s rules against attachment? ”

He slowly walked to me, lowering his head until we were inches apart. ”Have you ever thought of what the Jedi will do to him after this war? Or did you think they would let him walk away freely with his lover after all he did?

The question pierced deeper than I expected, and I hated myself for the flicker of doubt that followed. I thought of Revan’s face, steady even in battle, of the way he had looked at me —like I was more than my mistakes, more than the Republic's last hope. But what if Malak was right? What if he hated me?  And more importantly, what will happen to him after the war?

The Jedi wouldn’t just kill him, he couldn't be blamed for his time as a Sith. He didn't even remember that because of what the council did to his mind! But he was still Revan and they could see him as a bad influence for other Jedi and exile him.

And truth be told, he might hate the council now and even…

He wouldn't hate me, would he?

For months, I had lied to him about who he truly was, hiding the truth of his identity as the Dark Lord. I had told myself it was for his own good, that the Jedi Council’s decision was justified, but the guilt lingered like a shadow I couldn’t escape. And it had only grown as I began to… 

to…

feel closer to him.

What does he think of me, now that he knows the truth? Does he see me as a manipulator, no better than the Sith? Would he hate me for shaping his life with lies? The bond between us was still there, and I clung to it, desperate to feel his presence. But the doubt lingered. Have I already lost him?

“But you can take this choice out of  their hands and to yours. You only have to want it.” He said as he walked around me.

“They took you from your family, didn’t they?” he said, his tone almost kind. “Raised you to be their tool, their weapon. Tell me, Bastila—did they ever truly care for you? Or were you only valuable as long as you were useful?”

“That’s not true,” I muttered, though the words sounded weak even to my ears. Images of the Jedi Council flashed in my mind, their calm, impassive faces when I stood before them, with a dying Revan in my arms. Their dismissal of my thoughts. Their cold, calculated choices. It was always like that, choosing the safest option. What they did to Revan was also the safest option that would ensure their victory. Destroy one's identity and replace it with a new one that they could control, that wasn't better than creating a tool they could use.

Wasn't that the Sith way?

Malak knelt before me, his hulking figure blocking the faint light from the doorway. “And then there’s Revan,” he said, his voice softening. “The great savior. Do you think he loves you for who you are? Or for the role you play in his story?”

I jerked my head up, the mention of Revan cutting through my haze like a lightsaber. “You don’t know anything about him, not anymore.” I scolded myself, whenever Malak spoke about him I couldn't keep my emotions in check.

I didn't matter what he said, I was sure. I was sure that he… cared about me

Malak’s expression changed, as if his cruel smile widened. “Don’t I? I know that he once led armies that burned worlds to ash. That he did what he wanted without hesitation. I was at his side. And I know that if you falter, if you fail him, he will leave you behind. Just like he did to Surik. Just as he would have left me.”

“You’re afraid,” Malak continued, rising to his full height. “Afraid of losing him. Afraid that the masters will see the cracks in your perfect Jedi facade. Afraid they all would discard you. Afraid of being alone.”

“No,” I whispered, though the word caught in my throat, as he discharged another round of lighting on me.

It burned my insides!

Pain…

It felt like pain was the only thing that existed in the universe

It was pain that dragged me back to consciousness, sharp and unrelenting. My body felt heavy, every muscle trembling as if I’d been carved from stone and left to crumble. The cold air of the chamber bit at my skin, and when I half-opened my eyes, the dim red glow of the room made everything feel surreal, like a half-formed nightmare.

Two figures stood before me, their hands bound behind their backs, their faces bruised and bloodied. A Republic soldier, young and barely out of boyhood, his uniform torn, caked with dirt and a defiant glare. Beside him, a Jedi Padawan—I didn’t recognize her—just as youthful, trembled, her wide eyes darting between me and the towering figure of Malak.

“Good,” Malak said, his voice cutting through the haze. “You’re awake. I was beginning to think you lacked the strength to endure even a few days.”

A few days? No, It had to be more than that! I was already so tired and… there would still be some much more time here. He was lying, right?

I lifted my head, my vision sharpening. My gaze moved from the two captives to Malak, who stood between them, his arms crossed and his expression unreadable.

“What is this?” I croaked, my voice hoarse.

“A demonstration.” he said simply, his tone as cold as the air around us.

A demonstration? What did he want to show me? What did he want from me? Maybe information… And to get it he was going to torture this two poor people in front of me? Well, I wouldn't say anything!

He stepped forward, his heavy boots echoing against the metal floor like always, and gestured to the soldier and the Padawan. “Bastila, which one do you want me to kill? One of these two will live. The other will die. Their fates rest in your hands.”

What?!

No! No! No! 

He HAD to be kidding, right? 

How can I choose this?

My stomach twisted, and I fought against the restraints that bound me to the chair. “WHY DON'T YOU LEAVE THEM ALONE?!” I screamed, shaking my head. “You want me! ME! leave them alone?

I felt there wasn't enough air in the room. I couldn’t breathe.

Why? WHY? WHY?

What have they done to deserve this? What have I done to…

No!!

“You… You damn liar…” I accused him, breathless, while trying to calm myself.

The Dark Lord stared at me. ”Bastila, I am many things. but a liar isn't one of them. The one you save will be freed and sent back to the Republic.” He said seriously. 

“I… This is… Bad… What have we…” I was trying to say something. Anything. While trying to fight the tears coming out of my eyes. “ I… can’t choose”

Malak chuckled, in a humorless sound. “Of course you won’t. The Jedi have filled your head with nonsense about mercy and compassion.”Now he was behind me, speaking directly to my ear. ” You’d rather save them both, wouldn’t you? But life doesn’t work that way.”

He changed his tone again to a serious one. “If you don’t choose, both will die. Which one will you save?”

I looked back at them. Both were in bad shape, but the padawan seemed a bit better… 

I had to choose.

… But it's impossible.

Why did I… Why did I have to choose?

Wasn’t this like.. I was killing the other.

They were both innocent, I couldn't just choose.

"Hurry up," Malak said in a calm tone. "Or I'll kill them both."

“...” I try saying something.

I had to choose! I had to!

But…

“I cant… I can't make a choice like this” I said, my voice growing steadier despite the ache in my chest.

I couldn't kill some innocent person.

I couldn’t!

He came out from behind me and started walking towards the prisoners…

“If you want to kill someone, choose me! Kill me!” I said, trying to muster all my strength behind these words.

“I see,” Malak snapped, his tone hardening. “You already made your choice.”

“Bastila” Malak said, his voice dripping with disdain. “One of them didn't have to die, but you killed both.”

He raised his hand, lightning crackling between his fingers. The Padawan let out a whimper, and the soldier’s defiance faltered, his face twisting into fear.

“Stop!” I shouted, panic lacing my voice.

“You still don’t understand,” Malak said, turning to me. “This is the same as Taris. you refused to make a choice and let another choose for you. And in your refusal, everyone died!”

I tried looking away, But with his free hand he used the Force to hold my head in place.

The lightning ripped through them, their bodies writhing as their screams filled the air. I twisted against the restraints, my muscles straining, my throat raw from the desperate cries that escaped me.

With a flick of his wrist, lightning erupted from his hand, striking both captives at once. Their screams tore through the air, sharp and agonizing, and I could do nothing but watch as their bodies convulsed. The smell of burnt flesh filled the chamber, and when the lightning ceased, they collapsed to the floor. Lifeless….

I stared at their bodies, my chest heaving, my mind racing.

NO! NOO! 

They are dead. 

I could have… But if I did…

“Bastila,” Malak’s words broke through my thoughts.”You didn’t choose because of your compassion. It didn't allow you to have innocent blood in your hands and because of it  both died. These two weaklings died for that reason. Because you are a hypocrite, who prefers to kill both as long as their blood wasn't in your hands.

He turned to the dead bodies, gesturing lazily. “The soldier? A tool for the Republic’s endless war machine. Replaceable. Forgotten. The Jedi?” He pointed to the Padawan. “A pawn. Raised by the Council to serve, to follow, to die without question. One of these weaklings could have lived.”

He stepped closer, his towering shadow swallowing the faint light of the chamber, and his voice lowered, cutting deeper with each word. “This has already happened before, hasn’t it, Bastila? On Taris. You let another choose and follow your precious mission, at the cost of the billions who called that planet home. Their screams were silenced under a tidal wave of fire because you deemed them expendable. And yet, here you sit, unwilling to save even one life when the choice was in your hands. Tell me, was it easier when you didn’t have to watch them die? Or was it easier because you told yourself the Jedi’s lies—that the ‘greater good’ justified their annihilation?”

Malak stepped closer, his shadow falling over me. “Remember this moment, Bastila. Compassion is a lie the weak tell themselves to justify their failures. You saw how it stopped you from saving a person”

He turned back and started going to the door. “Compassion doesn’t save lives. It destroys them. It makes you weak, indecisive, powerless. And in your weakness, Bastila, you killed them both.” With this he left the room.

I turned my head away, trying to block out the sight, the smell, the sound of their final moments. But his words lingered, burrowing into my thoughts like a parasite. Compassion hadn’t saved them. Compassion had done nothing but paralyze me, stopping me from choosing.

I closed my eyes, the weight of his words pressing down on me like a vice. I wanted to deny them, to fight against what they meant—but they echoed in my mind, nonstop.

Compassion doesn’t save lives.

My hands trembled in the restraints, not from fear but from something hotter— something stronger, something I didn’t want to name. I wanted to scream, to lash out, to destroy Malak and everything he stood for. 

I could have saved them.

For the first time, I felt the dark side’s whispers tugging at the edges of my resolve. . They weren’t distant anymore—they were here, in the cracks of my anger and guilt, curling around my thoughts like smoke. Promising me what I had lacked. I could feel its power!

If I was only stronger…

A strength that could silence Malak, avenge the dead, and tear down the lies I’d been told.

There is no emotion, there is…

I tried recalling the code like I had done millions of times, but now it felt so… empty.

Chapter Text

I…

I tried opening my eyes. They were so heavy…

Where was I again?

When I finally opened my eyes, I remembered.

I had passed out from being tortured.

Two people had died…

No, I had killed them.

Suddenly, I felt my consciousness being seized and directed. My eyes followed the pull—Malak stood before me. 

My arms trembled in their restraints, my fingers twitching with the phantom sensation of holding my lightsaber. I could feel the heat of my anger bubbling beneath my skin, like a fire desperate to escape. My mind screamed in anger, but my body—weak, broken—refused to obey.

Malak’s piercing gaze held mine, and his mechanical jaw twisted into something resembling a smirk. I knew he could see my rage and surely feel it through the Force. “Good,” he said softly, almost purring. “Hold on to that anger, Bastila. It’s the only strength you have left.”

I clenched my jaw, biting back the retort that tried to claw its way out of my throat. He wanted me angry. He wanted me to lash out, to lose control. I knew I couldn’t give him that satisfaction. But the more I tried to suppress it, the more the anger threatened to swallow me whole.

I wanted to kill him, to cut him limb by limb and make him suffer, but I could only stare at him.

“Do you hate me?” he asked, stepping closer, his shadow covering me. “Do you wish to destroy me? To strike me down?” His voice was low and smooth, slithering into my thoughts like a snake. “ Why don’t you do it? If you had your lightsaber here, would you do it?”

It was a rhetorical question—the answer was obvious. “I would kill you without hesitation,” I replied, a smile spreading across my lips, while picturing the scene. The thought of his body dead on the ground at my feet, his mechanical voice silenced forever, brought a strange sense of satisfaction. 

If only I had the power to kill him…

I could feel that he was smiling even without a jaw. “Even if I was a defenceless opponent?” he retorted.

Would I kill him if he was defenceless? The Jedi teachings said it was wrong, but the memory of the Council’s willingness to kill Revan when he was unconscious, cut through me like a blade. They hadn’t hesitated. They would have killed him without a second thought, their principles discarded when it suited their agenda.

It didn't matter, because I could feel the truest answer in my heart.

““I would,” I said, my voice steady despite the weight of my words. “And I don’t think the Jedi would see it as wrong.” But as the words left my lips, something inside me stirred. A strange feeling spread in me. Even speaking of the Jedi felt foreign now, like a word without meaning.

Malak tilted his head slightly, his tone calm but cutting. “That frustration you feel—the doubt—it’s because you’ve begun to see the truth, haven’t you? The Jedi are not so different from the Sith.”  His voice is soft but insidious. It felt impossible to not pay attention to his every word. “They preach compassion but show none. If they were in your place on the ship when I betrayed Revan, they would have left him to die. Just as they’ve left you now. To big of a risk to save him and now to risk to rescue you”

“They… they wouldn’t do that. They might not be perfect, but they… they wouldn’t just leave me here.” I whispered, though my voice lacked conviction,, betraying my uncertainty. I could still remember the long hour the Jedi debated on what to do with Revan. Most of them had wanted him dead—justice for the war he had started. But because The republic was losing the war,  and desperation had made their decision for them. They hadn’t chosen mercy, but to create a tool.

I blinked, my vision blurring as exhaustion clawed at me. My stomach churned from hunger, my throat burned with thirst and electricity, my body ached from days of relentless torture. I was so tired—tired of this war, tired of fighting, tired of always questioning what was right.

“They did,” Malak countered, his words striking like durasteel against glass. “Besides, tell me, Bastila, when was the last time the Jedi truly valued you for who you are, and not just for what you could do for them?”

My vision went back of the Jedi Council again. Their disapproving glares. Their refusal to act during the Mandalorian Wars. Their treatment of Revan— my Revan. A burst of anger stirred, unbidden, and I fought to suppress it, to calm myself. But not with much success.

Malak saw it. He always did. “Good,” he said, his voice a purr. “Feel it. That is where your true power lies. Your future.”

”My future? You say that as if you knew anything about me.” The words were almost spat out of my mouth, I wasn't really trying to suppress my anger anymore.

He merely moved his eyes to look at me, like what I said wasn't even worth looking at me. “I know you, Bastila Shan. When you were an apprentice, all you wanted was to be recognized, to be praised by your masters.” He pronounced each word clearly, as if each word were meaningful. “Then the civil war began and they discovered your talent for battle meditation. They sent you to the front lines and called you the last hope of the Republic. But all that was not enough. You still had to kneel, call them Master, and obey their every order. Never receiving the recognition you deserve for everything you did.”

I tried to answer, to tell him he was wrong, that it wasn’t like that. But deep down, I knew he wasn’t wrong. Even now, I could still feel my anger toward them. I was never good enough for them. There was always something—whether it was my control over my emotions, my attachments, my anger at how many had died, or my failures in battle. They always—ALWAYS—found something wrong!

“And you hate them for that,” he continued. “When you saw Revan, broken and dying after my attack, you saw your chance,” Malak said, his voice low and resonant. “A chance to break free from the chains of the Jedi. To claim the power you knew, even then, was rightfully yours.” There was a fervor in his tone, an almost personal intensity, as if these were not just words but beliefs he had.

“Wasn’t that the reason you saved him?”

“I…” The words caught in my throat, tangled with memories I hadn’t allowed myself to revisit since it happened. I wanted to deny it, to dismiss his accusation outright, but the truth eluded even me. My mind drifted back to that fateful day—that battle.

Revan had been lying there, motionless, his body broken by Malak’s betrayal. I remembered standing over him, my lightsaber humming faintly in my hand aiming to Revan’s head. Malak’s ship blinked away, jumping to hyperspace. 

I had hesitated, the teachings of the Jedi pulling me one way, and the weight of his actions pulling me another. I remembered the destruction Revan had unleashed—the countless lives lost, the worlds brought to ruin by his commands. I thought of the families shattered, the soldiers who had died screaming his name in defiance. I could have left him there. I could have left him there. I should leave him there. I wanted to leave him there.

But something had stopped me. A pull I couldn’t explain, a whisper in the Force urging me to act. Against reason, against logic, I had saved him.

“I don’t know why I saved him,” I admitted at last, my voice hollow. It felt like a defeat, the kind Malak would seize upon.

He tilted his head slightly, his eyes narrowing as if he were remembering something distant. He made a low, unsettling sound—almost a chuckle, almost a sigh. Then, turning his gaze away from me, he said, “While you traveled with Revan, you tasted freedom. Freedom to feel, to desire, to act. To go anywhere you wished. To be the master of your own choices.”

He turned back to me, his voice sharpening, his words piercing. “What wouldn’t you give to keep that?”

I wanted to turn away, to ignore the question, to deny the feelings it stirred within me. But I could feel him pressing against my thoughts with the Force—insistent and relentless. The answer came before I could stop it.

“Everything,” I said, the word slipping out like a confession. My voice grew stronger, filled with a hunger I didn’t recognize. “I would give everything to keep it.”

For a moment, there was silence, the weight of my admission hanging in the air.

Malak just seems pleased. “Good, you know passion like few other Jedi. When you learn to embrace it, then you will know true power.” Finishing these words, he raised his hands and started electrocuting me again.

And then again.

And again.

And again…

The world came back to me slowly…

My eyes were heavy and tired. My body ached, every muscle trembling with exhaustion, and the air around me felt thick, pressing down like a suffocating weight. My wrists were raw from the restraints, and my skin still burned from where the lightning had danced across it. 

I tried to shift, to pull myself upright, but even that small movement sent a wave of pain rippling through me. My breaths were shallow, each one a reminder of how hurted and tired I was.

How much more do I have to endure?

At that moment Malak entered my cell, soon followed by someone—a Republic soldier trembling in chains, his eyes were completely empty. 

Malak opened the chains that were holding me, making me fall hard on the ground. He pulled me to my feet with the Force and  placed a lightsaber in my hand and stepped back. “Kill him,” he said simply. “Or he will kill you.”

I looked at Malak. I wanted to kill him, to rip him apart and make him suffer as he made me. But I knew better… I couldn't kill him, he was far more powerful then I was. And now, me in this state…

When will I be strong enough to kill him?

I turned my eyes to the soldier as he lunged at me. Instinct took over. My blade ignited in a blur of yellow.

His eyes—empty but not lifeless—met mine for the briefest moment before I struck.

The fight was over in a heartbeat.

The body crumpled at my feet, lifeless.

I blinked a few times.

What?

What did I just…

The room was silent except for the hum of the lightsaber in my hand. Its yellow glow cast jagged shadows on the walls, but I couldn't bring myself to look at the blade. My breath came in shallow gasps as I stared at the body before me—a Republic soldier, lifeless, crumpled like a forgotten doll. His expression was like in terror, his outstretched hand as if pleading for mercy.

I…

I killed him!

It had all happened so quickly. Too quickly.

An unarmed person…

The lightsaber in my hand felt heavier than it ever had before.

My body trembled as I dropped the lightsaber. It clattered to the floor, its hum extinguished. I pressed my hands to my temples, trying to block out the roaring in my ears. What have I done?

“You survived.” Malak’s voice broke through my spiraling thoughts, calm and measured, as if discussing the weather. “That is all that matters.”

I looked up at him, my vision blurred by tears  “He was innocent. He was one of ours. I…”

“He was weak,” Malak said sharply, his crimson cloak billowing as he stepped closer. “And weakness has no place in our galaxy. You acted on instinct, Bastila. On survival. That is the truth of the Force—strength triumphs over all. The only sin of this galaxy is being weak!”

I shook my head, my voice a whisper. “I didn’t mean to… I didn’t want to…” 

I looked at him, looking for…

What was I looking for?

“You did exactly what you were meant to do,” Malak interrupted, his tone softening, almost fatherly. “Tell me, did it not feel... freeing? To act without the chains of the Jedi holding you back? To put yourself first, above all else?”

My stomach churned, but I didn’t answer. The truth was far more complicated than I wanted to admit. In that fleeting moment, as the lightsaber pierced the soldier’s chest, I had felt something—a surge of power that drowned out my fear and pain. It had been intoxicating, and that frightened me more than anything.

Malak knelt beside me, his mechanical jaw casting sharp lines in the crimson light of the woom. “This is only the beginning, Bastila.” he said, his voice low but insistent, each word like a knife cutting into my resolve. “You’ve felt it already, haven’t you? The weakness that clings to you, the failure that weighs you down. You don’t have to carry it anymore.”

I glared at him, summoning what little strength I had left. “You’re wrong. I don’t need—”

“Don’t need what ?” he interrupted, his tone sharp. “Don’t need power? Don’t need freedom? Don’t need to survive?” He leaned closer, his presence oppressive, the dark side swirling around him like a storm. “Tell me, Bastila—how long do you think you’ll last clinging to their lies? The Jedi have abandoned you. Revan cannot save you. There is only one way forward now.”

“No,” I murmured, shaking my head weakly. “I’m not like you.”

“You are,” Malak said simply, rising to his full height. “You just refuse to see it.”

His eyes locked onto mine, unrelenting, as if daring me to deny him. “If you want to survive, if you want freedom—to break the chains the Jedi put on you—this is the only way.”

I clenched my fists, anger bubbling beneath my shame. I hated him—hated his calm, his certainty, the way he always knew what I was thinking and twisted my every thought. But more than that, I hated myself for listening. For doubting. 

I wanted to scream at him, to tell him he was wrong, that I wasn’t like him. But the words never came. From the bottom of my heart, I hated him., I hated him. Yet, I was also so tired, so exhausted... I barely had the strength to hold on anymore. And in the end, all that remained was silence.

A hollow, suffocating silence

I barely lasted for… What? A few days? and now I felt so broken and drained. Why the hell couldn't I never be strong enough?

“You are afraid,” Malak continued, pacing now, his tone measured and deliberate. “Afraid of failing. Afraid of disappointing everyone. Afraid of losing Revan. Afraid that he will reject you when he meets you again. But fear is nothing to be ashamed of, Bastila. Fear is what makes us strong.”

“Revan… he wouldn’t… he couldn’t abandon me. Not after everything we’ve been through. Not after…” I said, my voice faltering. But even as I said it, my bond—my only anchor here—felt distant, stretched thin by the oppressive darkness that surrounded me. I didn't have any hope that the Jedi would rescue me. But… 

But what if Malak was right?

The thought lingered, heavy and unwelcome, pressing down on me like a crushing weight. What if Revan couldn’t forgive me for this? For everything I had done—everything I had kept from him? For lying to him, guiding him like a puppet without his consent, shaping him into what the Council wanted? Could he look at me the same way, knowing how much I had hidden, how much I had deceived him?

The Council had taken him, broken him, and remade him. They had erased everything he was, and I had stood by and let it happen. Worse, I had been complicit. How much of the man I had come to care for was truly him, and how much was the product of the Council’s manipulation? How was I even capable of loving him, knowing what I did?

What if the Revan I knew—the Revan I loved—wasn’t even real?

What if he hated me now? What if he looked at me and saw only a manipulator?

What if he wasn’t coming at all? Only thinking about was enough to fill me with fear.

I tried reaching for him through the Force, desperate to feel him, to find any sign of hope. But there was nothing. Only silence.

My breathing quickened, panic rising like a tidal wave. What if he’s forgotten me? Malak’s words echoed in my mind, cruel and cutting. What if Revan didn’t care enough to save me? What if he couldn’t? What if the man I loved had already moved on, leaving me behind in this nightmare?

Maybe Malak was right. Maybe I wasn’t worth saving.

I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms, trying to ground myself in the pain. But it wasn’t enough to drown out the storm in my mind. I should be stronger than this, I told myself, but the words felt hollow. I was tired of pretending, tired of clinging to the hope that someone—anyone—would come. It had being so painful 

I felt being crushed by all my doubts. My strength was gone, my will unraveling thread by thread, and the darkness around me whispered promises of power. I could feel that if I touch it, if I embrace it, I will never feel this weakness again .

I closed my eyes, the silence in the Force now deafening.

What if Revan wasn’t coming?

Malak stopped, turning to face me. “Do you want to be free? To never again  be broken like this or used? Then embrace the power I have shown you. You could change this galaxy. You could bring peace, order—everything the Jedi could not.”

My breathing quickened. The Force swirled around me, heavy with the dark side. I wanted to scream, to deny him, to cling to the light that I had sworn to uphold. But my strength was gone, burned away by pain, fear, and doubt. I felt exhausted. And in this void, the dark side whispered promises I couldn’t ignore anymore.

I could be strong.

I closed my eyes, my voice barely audible. “What do you want from me?”

“Your loyalty,” Malak said. I could feel his triumphant smile. “Your power. Together, we will forge a new galaxy.”

For a moment, I hesitated, teetering on the edge. I wanted to refuse. I thought of Revan—his warmth, his unshakable resolve, the way he had looked at me with love and trust, a trust I had broken. But that memory was quickly replaced by a darker thought: Revan, standing before me with hate in his eyes, cursing me for manipulating him all this time. His decision was swift. He attacked me with all his strength, not even giving me a chance to defend myself and he kills me .

And then, unbidden, another vision came—my own future. I could almost see it: myself standing in the Council chamber, their impassive faces staring down at me as they passed judgment. There was no mercy, no understanding in their eyes. They would see my failures—the weakness that had allowed me to be captured, the decisions I had made in the heat of battle and my feelings to… to Revan—and they would decide I was unfit to continue as a Jedi. That all my suffering was for nothing, only necessary evil for them to be the great saviors of the Republic. A cold exile, a stripping of my connection to the Order, or worse, my connection to the Force. Like they did to Meetra Surik.

The image chilled me, their faces devoid of compassion, the same as they had been when they judged Revan. I had seen that look before, when they had weighed his actions and dismissed his achievements as if they were nothing but an inconvenience and broke his identity and made another one. How long before they did the same to me? How long before I, too, became just another failed pawn in their grand plan?

I felt a fire ignite in my heart as I thought of the Council. It spread through my memories of the Jedi. I could feel... For the first time I felt it... A genuine hatred against the whole Jedi Order!

Malak extended his hand. “Join me, Bastila.”

For a moment it felt like the galaxy had stopped. Waiting for my answer. But at the same time, it didn't feel like a choice at all.

The air seemed to thicken as I reached for his hand, each movement so slow, as if the galaxy itself were holding its breath. My fingers trembled as they brushed against his,

It was with a certain amount of detachment that I watched my hand slowly  reach for Malak’s one. It felt...inevitable. 

The way the Force... tha galaxy seemed to stop only waiting for my answer, made me feel deeply uncomfortable, but also very alive. As if I were watching the rules that bound my world together unravel before my eyes.

When my hand finally met his, I felt something inside me break.

I felt defeated… 

I felt free.

“Good,” Malak said, his voice heavy with satisfaction. “Now, break your chains, don’t hold your emotions back anymore.”

If my eyes closed I focused on my feelings, during all my years with the Jedi I learned how to properly suppress it and hide behind a wall of serenity. But now, I was going to break it. My decades of anger and resentment against the Council, their cold judgment, their endless demands, their hollow lessons about peace and restraint. Where had their teachings gotten me? Bound, broken, and abandoned. I thought of the Republic, the cause I had fought for, bled for, only to forget about me the only moment I needed them in my life! I thought of Revan—of how I had lied to him, manipulated him, shaped him into what the Jedi wanted, only for me to start having feelings for him and be abandoned by him. And worst of all, I thought of him , of Malak, of what he had done to me, to everyone, to the galaxy.

I hated him. I hated them all.

Like a dam being broken, a wave of emotion hitted me. And for the first time, I did not fight it. 

The dark side surged through me like fire, I could feel the edge of my conscience burning away my doubts, my hesitation, my weakness. It roared in my veins, powerful and intoxicating, like a storm I had kept bottled inside for too long. 

I lowered my gaze, unable to meet his eyes. I didn’t need to. I could already feel the change,  just like a shadow  that was just waiting for this moment to spread through me. The Jedi had always spoken of the dark-side, how it controlled us. But standing here, at the edge of it, I wasn’t sure I believed in it anymore.

And somewhere, far away, I felt the bond with Revan fracture, the distance between them growing wider than ever before