Candles burnt out when the time came. The wind hollowed and silenced after a long day, and the birds began to fall out of the sky; it was the end of a story, and the beginning of a new. Cautionary tales to be told to children as years pass. A story of a woman who dammed herself to the end—who hadn't cared what it cost her, all that she could see was the absolutes of truth and the undeniable nature of the Force tearing at her soul, lurching it's way to consume her and leave all but an empty void which heaved its way to new life. She felt it through her visionless eyes, she felt through her heart and in her hand, she was at the end of her path, of her journey. She was at the place her path first officially began.
And now, at this end she has realized her biggest mistake hadn't been by being abided to a code that has long since been a substance of poison to those who follow in its steps or by allowing herself to be blinded by the truth, her biggest mistake had been not training the Exile sooner, to give her clairvoyance of halved truths and falsities. She had too much of the Jedi still lingering within her—she could never truly understand the true nature that was given. Her compassion outweighs the sad realities they all live in, her perception is as far as her good heart would go. The galaxy does not need good nor does it need the bad, it needs only the cut ups between them. Kreia stood now, as she always has, in the middle of two worlds, two oddities of Ashla and Bogan. Her mind has wandered farther from its own time to that of the future, she was gifted or rather cursed with the knowledge she had been given.
Her cloak was tethered, her hair stood out and her skin pale, revealing her corruption and revealing how far she had let herself fall. She sat crosslegged in the heart of the Trayus Academy, meditating and opening her mind as she felt the loose chains circle around her, ready to engulf and lead her to a ravine, the innermost desire became a dimming light and the outermost ideals became the necessity. It was as if a thousand eyes looked down and cascaded her into an empty space where she'd learn the depths of the Force. These eyes lingered beneath and above, side by side, they were the watcher of the Force and she was the seer, the curse paved way farther than her own blind eyes could reach, and her hand was dazed by the effects of the watcher. Her eyes seethed with the Force, her lips as dry as a desert and her body a nestle. She couldn't shake the feeling off that she was a vessel for the Force, nothing more. A vestige that has been missing for countless years, a mirror on the other side which called to her and the concatenation of it all.
She withered in this inner turmoil but she yearned to continue on. No amount of concatenations or vestiges can prevent her from completing what she was destined to do—no amount of fear mongers or peace establishers can throttle over her own caliber, she knew this to be exact yet she also reminded herself that the future is always in motion and always changeable, anything could happen in between her plan and the Exile's journey to Malachor V. She had 'betrayed' her apprentice and in doing so, she will be faced with her again. Only this time, it will not be to gain wisdom or to understand her lessons, it will be a confrontation, one that ends in her own death. Kreia struggled to pinpoint the pieces of what she discovered, what felt like so long ago, on Malachor V.
A distant echo made its way to her opening mind, whispering to her of mangled apparitions and tangled deities, "Reality is often spoken less of when one is confronted with fiction." A voice coughing up what is real and what is not as it tried to manipulate the elder woman, "In this, you cannot trust fiction as it takes you away from what is real, and reality cannot be trusted as it takes you away from a fictionalization of it all—to make sense of it." These words sprung its way to her sub-conscious. Filling her thoughtful mind to a minimized version of thoughtlessness. "I must break way with both in order to see the truth," she said aloud in response. The Trayus Academy heightened its ambience and the voices of the dead called out to her embrace of the eeriness the Academy held. "Separate one from fiction and they become nothing but poor souls who has no way out of a sad reality. Separate one from fiction and they become nothing but souls who cannot face reality up hand and believe they are special in every way. But, when you discard both you can see the truth, as long as you allow yourself to see it."
And the echo disappeared. She opened her eyes untangled her legs and began to stand up, she walked to the exit of the Academy with her breath held and the Force she despised so much guiding her through the corridors leading to the surface of Malachor V. Sure to keep her final private moments at whim to herself and none else, she disconnected herself from the world and focused only on herself. Feeling the breeze surround her and tempting her to stay, Kreia felt a sudden touch from the netherworld, she pushed for her to stay focused. Letting herself succumb to the breaches of the world, letting the air stricken her aging body, letting the Force surround her one last time. She raised from the ground, her feet lifted by the Force, she was levitating in the air and she did not bother to mess with it.
All she wanted now was a final peaceful moment. Without voices, without interruption and without thinking about her very short future. Her arm with no hand felt as if it was still there—as if it was never cut off, her eyes gleamed back to life and she felt young again. The sky pierced through her in a thunderous applause to her becoming younger and healthier. Her corruption subsided and her brown hair revealed itself to the world, she couldn't ever forget this moment.
A moment of self-infrequency. She was herself again, before the sad reality of growing old and the loss of oneself took to account on her. She was in her cove, a nice ambient cove guiding her to youth and peace, she held onto the thought of the cove and held it tight—so she will remember this, remember that in all her years of failures, betrayal and triumph that this moment was her gift—a gift from Mortis and a gift from the deepest corners of space.
The thunder let loose again, spasming her body uncontrollably, making her ache all around. Then the thunder stopped and she fell ten feet down. Her hair turned gray, pupils became cloudy once more, her right hand left her again. Her corruption came back, opening her cloudy eyes, she felt the pain come again, as if she had just received all her injuries, she gritted and stood on her feet again. She took deep breaths, trying to compress the pain by connecting her palms together, to vividly feel it. "Once more I shall walk the path of darkness," Kreia said, "The Mass Shadow Generator will be the creator of the wound, and I shall be the sacrifice," she continued as she saw through the Force, an orb swiveling its way to her, echoing voices beyond her comprehension.
"I will be the sacrifice." She said again, sterner and more focused—more insistent.
The orb came toward her and engulfed her shadow that was created by the bright skies. She knelt down and carried with her a legacy, one that will pass on to only the wisest and most eyeopening. She was a lesser now, to the world and to the galaxy, a means to an end, a possible solution to the hopeless and a veneer to the elegancy of many cultural worlds. Her time is coming close, she will enjoy what time she has left in this final private moment. "The thunder has stricken and it awaits its next victim." Kreia said, "But I am not a victim to the thunder, I am a victim to the Force." Kreia assured herself of this. The skies began to circle the storms as if attempting to cradle it before the next strike, the torments of the past lingered all around her, grabbing at her cloak and waving its hand gently across her neck, she shook her head to ward off the memories. Cursing them down with one non- provoking gesture of her hand. "Vanish. I do not need you and you do not need me." She brushed her hand across the hardened ground as she kneeled, feeling the briskness of her hand run across, and the grounds reaction to her otherwise warm touch.
She recalled as she put her hand back from the ground, back when she was much younger of days where she'd whisk her hand across the planets and gentle lifeforms in the Jedi Temple's garden.
It was peaceful then, not so much now. All the touch she felt was emptiness and wounds that could not be patched. It was the engulfing conclusion to her life that was once tread with peace of mind turned to stone with her sudden change in morals and views. Deep down she knew she had always been this way—a Jedi must disregard their emotions if they are to be whole—this dogmatic solution to lure you away from the darkness only makes it more tempting, as such is the case of many Jedi before her. They fell with the flawed principles the Jedi withheld, the Sith promised victory over chains to a code that has long since been abided, yet they only offered subterfuge which only made it worse. Deceit, false principle all played a role in the reasons Jedi or Sith are just as problematic as the Force itself. They draw on it, conceive their power upon it, cast their mortal self aside for a seconds glance of immortalization, all just a happy little lie, wrapped up to fit inside a bottle for easy prey to open and read.
But she was no different in her early years, believing that a Jedi is sanctioned to protect and to yearn for the Force at given times, she knew now what she did not know then and that was that the insects carving its way to their victims blood was the vessel for the Force—a metaphor that the Force has cells generating to leech onto its hosts body, give them an excess in power in exchange for their slowly deteriorating bodies and if cut off they suffer death or toxicity—the Force was water and without it, you are as good as dead. And to no surprise this was the absolute reality the galaxy is in, she lurched and gathered her senses as she finally allowed her moment to come to an end. "I grow old as days pass, it would prove of no use to bother with this coming fruition." She sighed, lowered her head and walked back toward the Academy to await the woman she trained to come looking for her. To confront her and most expectantly defeat her. "The sun has settled for this world. And so has it's still present inhabitants." Her cloak raised back over her head, concealing her eyes and showing little features. The storm that had raged was the mirror for the coming hours, and the storm was hungry for those hours to come at an end.
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The halls grew silent from the dancing of lightsabers, The Exile had let Sion finally rest in peace and now she was coming for Kreia—Traya—The Master of Betrayers to confront her. Footsteps could have been heard far away with enhanced senses but she didn't need them to know it, she hardly ever imagined a reality where she were victorious and The Exile had been a successful apprentice; she was too good to truly understand her lessons and teachings, try as she may she failed where she would succeed. When it came to charity or generosity to help others she would ignore the protests Kreia would give her and still help. Her compassion outweighed the teachings and her behavior toward Kreia was nothing she wanted. She didn't need compassion or care. All she needed was a proper apprentice who understood her views. But, it's not her fault, Kreia awaited the woman in clad gray robes to come to her in the heart of the Academy—Atris was the one who could have been the next Kreia or perhaps not—to be fair Meetra wasn't easily swayed by the morals Kreia withheld and even if she were, it was doubtful she'd stay that way.
And maybe Revan never truly understood, it wasn't hard to imagine. Kreia—I—could never understand myself in the past, and my understanding got to him. Meetra Surik a general during the war on Malachor V had understood more than she'd think, it's only that she refuses to partake in it any further. Kreia sat down crosslegged once more, trying to search her mind to find the slightest rendition in herself. "Shattered mirrors, cracked stones, pierced stars and whimsical beliefs. All are what binds us to see through them, to see the heart of all." She spoke aloud, hoping her ex-apprentice would hear her and perhaps take in mind. "The falling between two worlds and two mirrors," the footsteps got closer and the hum of a lightsaber grew louder, "On the verge of a negative impact once the mirror shatters," the footsteps halted for a few seconds before continuing on, "Negativing itself until no other could breach it."
Then stood the gray robed female, watching her keenly, she could feel her presence and the hurt of betrayal in her eyes, she could feel her heart beating faster than normal and her expression seemed that of a soul who had lost its path. Kreia relished the idea that she would have understood the depth of betrayal and why the betrayal had happened but it seems as though she was completely lost in the true reasoning which saddened her to a degree. "A great many things has happened Exile, in our parted time." Kreia spoke, breaking the silence and then she prepared herself to stand. "Why?" The Exile asked, a simple three letter word—nothing more.
"Why?" Kreia spoke, "If you had listened to my teachings more closely the answers on why would have already been given and explained." Kreia told her as she stood facing her five feet away. "Then tell me, was it all a ruse—was I just a part of your plan?" She asked Kreia, "Of course not. I wanted you to learn and you didn't get the true meaning, I wanted you to be better, and you are not much better. Were you a part of the plan? Yes, and you now play the part of sufferer." The Exile raises her lightsaber, "Then we cannot stop one another from fighting," Kreia nodded in approval, "One can't live without the other, Meetra Surik. Remember this." Kreia closed her eyes and concentrated, getting Meetra all wiled up to try and find out what she is doing, then three lightsabers ignited and swirled around her body in the defensive.
Meetra backed in her own defense and she attempted to attack Kreia, though managing it was difficult.
The first few strikes were hard and nearly scraped her shoulder, Kreia focused and struck Meetra's blade with her two lightsabers, Surik was pushed back and she then recomposed herself and attempted to use the Force to counter attack Kreia's trinity lightsabers. The Force ached the air toward Kreia's body, and it shook her—wobbling her balance slightly, Kreia then responded with a deadly force by her lightsabers, sending them harrowing toward Meetra in an attempt to catch her off balance, Meetra flew back as she deflected the heavy throw of Kreia's lightsabers, her body like a rag doll and her saber leaving her side momentarily, Kreia quickly took advantage of the weaponless apprentice and sent her sabers to finish the job. Quickly acting on instinct and speed, she threw her left hand out to call her lightsaber back, threw her legs up and got up, feeling the hilt breach her palm she ignited it once more and quickly parried the blades one by one before grabbing Kreia with the Force and pulling her down, causing her to lose balance from the quick speed of Meetra Surik.
Her lightsabers deactivated as she lost concentration, her legs trembled and the thud made her refocused on Meetra as she got prefixed, she called to the Force and struck Meetra backward, concentrated again and used her three sabers as a last resort. She levitated the stumbling Meetra and threw her backward, harder and enough to crack her back, she fell down, near unconscious as Kreia then used one of her lightsabers on hand to strike her. Then hesitation took place as she struggled to strike her— "Sacrifice," she reminded herself, "Sacrifice."
Meetra's eyes opened and quickly reacted to a hesitant Kreia, called her lightsaber and tried to strike her down, but she blocked the killing blow and fell backward from the sudden impact of the strength of her lightsaber. "It ends, Kreia."
"I know," she whispered so low Meetra couldn't even hear her. She tried to refocus but it was to no avail, she could only block her blows only so long, she was ready. She remembered earlier when she transformed back into the woman she was, it was a . . . Pretense, it didn't actually happen but it was.
She used her main lightsaber and blocked her strikes, her body aching toward the edge of a ravine as she struggled to keep up with a much younger opponent. Then, as the strikes were blocked easily, Kreia felt for the first time—a deep gash going straight through her chest. She gritted and saw Meetra, conflicted by what she had done. "Agh—" Kreia spat out, "All things must come to an end." She struggled to say, Meetra looked at her—lightsaber deactivated—and she saw Kreia mumble, blocking off the pain as it attempted to tear into her heart, Meetra heard her first words then listened even closely as she continued on, "If it matters to you, at this last moment. I shall look into the future and tell you what I see."
The fortune telling continued onward, telling Meetra of the future of worlds she had been to as well as companions, and some that wasn't about them. "The Sith will live on even in the moments which threaten their existence. The Jedi will be purged and onward until a descendant of a long abiding legacy rebuilds them into anew,"
"A threat looms in the deepest reaches of space and will not reveal themselves until the time is right—Coruscant will fall, the Jedi will be put in the most dangerous worlds, and species will revolt against all others, they'll be countless losses and the galaxy will never truly be in peace."
"And, to our legacies—we will be forgotten until someone finds us in the deepest wells of time."
She finished, coughed and breathed one last time as her body that was once full of life and full of experience and wisdom became a shell with no pulse. Her body fell to the ground, lifeless
Meetra felt the impending doom of Malachor V.
—The Ebon Hawk parted Malachor V and the stars followed Meetra to the end of her journey. Kreia's plan didn't succeed, not in the way she wanted but, unknowingly to the Jedi and Sith, she has created a legacy of her own, tales told by witnesses and then on, there will always be a Darth Traya. And she had seen to it . . .