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Revan didn’t like what he saw in the mirror. More often than not, it was not his face that stared back at him, but a ghost. A haunting that stalked him day and night, from planet to planet, and dream to nightmare.
Well, it’s not like he slept much these days. Or did he? Time was hard to tell in this place. The cult that had taken him in – the Revanites, whatever they chose to call themselves – they had given him a beautiful chamber to sleep or meditate in. Decorated, worshipped. They were all but foolish children, worshipping a false god. Revan did not want to be a god, yet the burden had befallen upon him, as it had once in the past. Like the rest of the galaxy, he would shape them into something useful. Something pure. Soon, the galaxy would know freedom.
Revan knew very well how fractured his mind was — he was less than a man and even less than a dog. He was nothing. He had made sure of that.
The galaxy had changed during his imprisonment. So many lives were lost, and many more were born. New songs for the Force to tear apart, he thought, a melody for each side of the coin. Sith and Jedi, they knew nought of the pain they brought with their words. Choosing sides was useless; they did not know what he knew. They needed to be shown the true path. He would show them.
The mask felt heavier on his head than it had before — an unwilling crown for an unwilling conqueror. If it could, Revan was sure the mask would engrave itself into his flesh. There was nothing left of the man he was before. Karris was dead. He had not died peacefully; no. Karris died violently, thrashing and screaming. In that hollow chamber, Revan was reborn from the rotting carcass of a little boy.
Soon, the fleet would be complete. As foolish as these children, these Revanites were, they had eyes everywhere. Across the Sith Empire and the Republic. They would heed his call and come to his aid like a dog running to its master.
Yet still, Revan did not like what he saw in the mirror. Sometimes it wasn’t a face he saw. It was something distorted, ugly and strange. It had tired eyes and unkempt hair. There were tangles in it – he felt them every time he ran a stressed hand over his head. Its lips were also dry. Cracked. There was dry blood on them from pulling at the skin with his teeth. Thankfully, the gloves were on his hands more often than not; otherwise, Revan would’ve bit through his own fingers if necessary.
Its right eye twitched.
Suddenly, the wooden table cracked beneath his palm. A crushed bug lay dead beneath it. He hadn’t even realised – he hadn’t…
For a moment, there was silence.
Slowly turning his eyes back to the mirror, Revan saw nothing. No reflection, nothing at all. The mirror stood empty. Perhaps he wasn’t there at all, he thought, maybe he had died by the Emperor’s hand after all. Or this was some cruel dream he couldn’t wake up from.
“My Lord?” A meek, quiet voice called from behind. A Revanite, frail and thin, with their head bowed. They did not dare to raise their eyes, to gaze upon the anomaly in the chamber. “Supper will be served soon, the… the hunt proved… successful.”
As the silence from their Lord stretched thin, the Revanite at last dared to glimpse at their master. Across the chamber, they were met with the fixed stare of their Lord. He was not facing them directly, but rather staring through the mirror’s reflection — the cultist had dreamt of a charming man beneath the mask, but this thing that stared at them had a dirty, feral look to it. His pupils were enlarged and devoid of any lustre, fixed on a sole point – the cultist themselves.
Revan didn’t even seem to be breathing at all.
He just stared.
Simply stared.
The door slid shut by itself. The Revanite took a startled jump, hand instinctively reaching for the blaster that had gone missing from their hip. “M-My Lord, I apologise if I offended you-” Much to their horror, a strange smile had stretched across Revan’s lips.
But as promised, supper was indeed served a little less than an hour later. The new base they had settled in, hidden from prying eyes, had been wisely chosen. Some Revanites had left to hunt and came back with enough provisions to last the next rotation. To them, everything seemed to be going well and only improving. They had their God, their beloved Master, with them, so everything was going to be alright, surely. Revan would never bring folly upon his allies.
So, of course, they were all very content to see their Lord come to them for supper. They did not question his silence nor the strange way he smiled, tilted his head, talked to them – even if the light had gone from his eyes. No, no, Revan had a role to fulfil, and he’d never let them down.
Across the room, two younger Revanites whispered to themselves, urgently so.
“Ha’ri, have you seen Gulpper? They said they were going to notify His Lordship of supper, but I can’t find them anywhere.”
“I can’t pick up their signal…”
Across the room, Revan watched them. There was blood in his hands – thankfully, the gloves hid it.