Doubt plagued Exile’s mind after stepping through the last door and seeing the Trayus Core, Kreia meditating in the center of it all, head down and legs crossed.

   The Trayus Academy felt like the focal point of the Dark Side, and this felt like the
focal point of the Academy. Exile had never felt so powerful in her life, so
much so that that even her numb arm was beginning to regain some feeling.

   She proceeded, walking along the thin path of rock. She dared herself to, and looked
over the edge, witnessing the sight of the planets core itself just a few kilometers down.
It resonated a bright viridian color that bounced off the rock walls, all the way to the
top, which appeared to be a speck in the distance to Exile. As the dirt crunched under
her heel, Exile kept clenching and unclenching her hand in an attempt to gain more feeling back into her arm. It wasn’t working.

   Exile stopped short of Kreia, using her good arm to pull her lightsaber from her
belt.

   “Is Malachor as you remember?”  Kreia asked, back still turned to Exile. She made
no move to get to her feet, or defend herself.

   “I was in space during the battle of Malachor.  I never set foot on the planet before
the generator was activated.” Exile informed.

   “Another fact you have hidden from me.” It sounded like she was thinking aloud.
“The Republic’s efforts were in vain, however. Malachor withstood and emerged
stronger then ever. But I suppose you have already figured that out.”

   Exile’s lightsaber came to life, it’s crimson blade jumping out the emitter. “Prepare
yourself for death.” She charged, saber over her head for the killing blow.

   But another lightsaber ignited, and it wasn’t in Kreia’s hand, but behind her. Exile
barely got herself around in time to block another crimson lightsaber coming down
in spear-like fashion from above. The saber was knocked only slightly off course,
the blade grazing past her suites pant-leg.

   She spun back around, and neither Kreia or the lightsaber were there. Exile looked up,
and saw Kreia falling from where she had leapt, her lightsaber in hand and robes flapping.

   The elderly woman landed nimbly in the same spot from where she had leapt. Her left leg stepped back, putting her left arm, or her “stump” as Exile used to call it,
behind her and brining her saber to bear, tip pointed at Exile.

   A cold tingling wave passed through her arm, reminding Exile the uselessness of
her own left arm. She followed Kreia’s lead, pulling her own left leg back and putting
her arm out of the line of fire.

   Kreia’s had to live like this for two years now? Exile thought. It wasn’t a stretch to figure out why she preferred the use of the Force in battle.

   They stood, sabers humming and looking into each other’s eyes. Neither faltered, nor blinked or twitched. They stepped forward, and their sabers tips clashed. Exile repeated
this twice before Kreia lost patience and attacked in a downward strike. She blocked it
easy enough and took the blades to her left, allowing her to turn her numb arm from a
burden to an advantage. She threw her arm, landing a slap she knew could break a cheek bone, while she felt only a twinge of pain flash through her knuckles. Kreia never learned
how to do that. But, what could she do with her “stump”? Show it to young children and traumatize them then convince them to join the Sith?  Yeah, I’m sure that would work.

   The Sith Lord stumbled back, catching her shortly after the second step. She brought her lightsaber hand up and felt where the impact landed with her index finger, and screamed.

   When she looked up, Exile saw why. She had indeed broken her cheekbone. And the bone itself now poked out the skin, letting twin trails of blood streak down the side of
her face.

   She launched, turning into a dark blur. Exile got her saber up easily enough, blocking the woman’s blade before it could bisect her. What made no sense was that it was too simple, too forward, and very un-Kreia like. But it then hit her, literally.

   A wall of Force-energy plowed into her and launched her off her feet, knocking Exile’s saber out of her grasp at the same time. Kreia grew smaller and smaller as she got further and further, until, to her horror, found herself staring down at the core of the planet. Only
grabbing the edge of the ring around the small structure of the Core saved her from plunging into certain death.

   Exile felt Kreia’s excitement through the Force, though it vanished a moment later, after discovering Exile had kept her lightsaber active and aloft with the Force. In her mind, she swung the blade up, going by memory of where Kreia was, and grinned when the old woman let loose a scream far worse then the previous.

   Exile used the Force to bolster her arm’s strength and lifted herself to the ring around the Core. Looking up at the center, she saw Kreia standing were Exile last remembered,
except now missing half of her remaining right arm, cut off between the shoulder
and elbow with a bright orange glow around the edges of her cauterized wound and
burnt robe. She breathed heavily and stared at the down at the ground, possibly in disbelief?  

   “Finish it.” she declared aloud. “End me.” Exile stepped forward, and Kreia’s pain seemingly disappeared, her shoulders straitening out and her head lifting up, her gaze
stopping Exile cold. “Good. You know power, but now you must learn pain.”

   Metal scrapping against rock caught Exile’s ear, arising from above. Three lightsaber hilts came floating down from their hidden spots in the top of the three towering spires,
hovering above Kreia’s head. Violet blades sprang out the three cylinders, all pointed at
Exile.

   Her grin widened. “Thank you, “Master”. Your final lesson has been taught.”

   Exile brought her arm up to head height , managing to get her left up too, but only to
neck-level. The lightsabers, her “trophies”, lifted off her belt and stopped in front of her,
lining themselves in a row. Crimson, emerald, silver, violet and blue blades came to life at once, bouncing the glow onto Exile.

   Kreia’s mouth twisted into a smile. “At last,” she whispered. “you learn.”

   Kreia sent her sabers streaking toward Exile, but to no prevail. Exile’s collected sabers
cut through them like they were air, and continued toward Kreia. The lightsabers shred through the Sith Lord, leaving cauterized holes and even severing off her left arm and right calf. But they hit nothing vital. Exile made sure of that. The final blow would be hers.  

   After the last one cut through, Exile called her own lightsaber back to her hand, ignited it, and leapt, using the Force to quicken her moments. The crimson blade plunged into the older woman’s chest, burning into her heart. Kreia shrieked, however short it was, which left only the sound of the lightsaber burning inside Kreia’s body, and the bubbling of plasmic goo miles down.

   “You…” Kreia’s voice was faint, weak. This was her final stretch. “You have passed the final test. You are greater then any I have ever trained. Your power will bring many
travesties to the galaxy, destroy those who are weak and train the strong for times to come. And for that, I thank you.”

   Exile’s gaze never shifted nor faltered. “Goodbye, Kreia.”

   She hit the old woman with a wall of Force-energy  as she did to Exile, pushing her body out of her sabers blade and sending her forward and over the edge. Exile could
hear the woman’s scratchy laughter echo off the wall, until she hit the core.

   Exile sighed, letting her lungs stay empty until they screamed for air. As soon as the
air was breathed, a ripple crawled down her back, causing her to shiver. Something was
wrong. She circled herself, keeping her lightsaber ready in front of her to strike. Air itself
seemed to stir around her, then dissipated and revealed Sith assassins. The dozens upon dozens of them. They practically filled the Trayus Core, all their faces disguised behind a mask and shock staffs in hand. Exile was ready for anything, including plunging the Trayus Core itself into the core of Malachor V.

   Until they all got on one knee and lowered their heads to her. Curious, Exile shut down her lightsaber, inspecting an attack that never came. Words were not uttered, nobody rebelled, they simply obeyed the leader of the Sith, which guessing by how she killed the
other Sith Lords, Exile figured was her now.

   A ships engine’s roar caught everyone’s hearing. She brought her good arm up to her ear to try and block it out. No such luck. She turned and found herself staring at the Ebon Hawk gliding up from the core of the planet, with a person hanging on the edge of the extended exit ramp dawned in dark robes, hair blowing violently against the winds.
Atton. She thought.

   He leapt from the ship as it hovered beyond the Trayus Core, using the Force to bolster himself and landing next to Exile.

   “Too late to the party?” he asked.

   She nodded. “You missed all the good action.”

   He threw his arms up. “Oh well. I got a glimpse of the old bat as she fell. That’s enough for me.” He looked around at the assassin’s surrounding them. Still, none had even lifted
their heads. “What’s next for us?”

   She too looked around, wondering herself. She stopped when she saw Kreia’s severed hand still clutching her lightsaber next to an assassin’s fist. She called the hilt to her hand,
discarding the severed, wrinkled hand. She looked down at the hilt turning it in her hand,
then smiled. “The galaxy.” she said triumphantly.



THE END.