Upon first seeing Ochi’s ship, Rey felt her entire world screech to a halt.
As she stared upon the otherwise unremarkable block-shaped vessel, memories that she had long since repressed started to bubble to the surface. Suddenly, she was six years old again, crying out at a ship retreating into the sky while a gruff hand tugged on her tiny arm.
“Come back! Come back!” But the ship did not heed her, no matter how loud she cried, and it became smaller and smaller until it was nothing more than a tiny dot in the sky. Tears stung her face as Unkar Plutt pulled her away—
“Rey?”
She snapped back to reality and saw Toah staring at her, a concerned look on his face. They were at the ramp leading onto the ship. Ochi looked back at her, his expression hidden by his mask, but he said nothing as he continue up the ramp. Rey moved to follow him only for Toah to rest a hand on her shoulder.
“Is something wrong?” he asked in a hushed tone.
She was about to say “No,” but realized that he would have seen right through that lie. Taking a deep breath, she said, “I’ve seen this ship before. In my dreams.”
“Are you sure it’s the same ship?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never seen another of its model before.”
“Neither have I.” Toah frowned to himself before gesturing Rey to follow him onto the ship. As soon as they were on board, the ramp closed behind them as Ochi started up the ship. The ship’s interior wasn’t very large; it was clearly a vessel meant for only one or two people. Supplies, tools, and even weapons were strewn about the main hold, though none of them looked like they would provide any insight into who or what Ochi exactly was. The two Jedi made their way to the ship’s cockpit, where Ochi was at the controls, and took the two seats behind his. As the ship lifted up towards the sky, Rey spotted the light freighter carrying Finn and Nira Maren up ahead, flanked by a trio of X-wings. Joining them was another ship, most likely carrying Chek Urhed, which the others proceeded to follow as they departed from Jakku.
“What model is this ship?” Toah said to Ochi, sounding as casual as if he was asking about the weather.
Ochi hesitated before answering, as if debating whether or not to speak at all. “A WTK-85A transport.”
“A WTK,” Toah repeated, scratching his chin. “Isn’t that a SubPro product?”
Another moment of hesitation. “Yes.”
“Interesting.” Toah leaned back in his seat, appearing to be deep in thought. Rey looked to him, hoping to find some insight as to what he was trying to accomplish. However, her teacher would not so much as meet her gaze.
“Do you have a name for it?” Toah then asked.
Ochi sighed, not bothering to hide his exasperation. “The Bestoon Legacy.”
“Bestoon…. You introduced yourself as Ochi of Bestoon earlier, didn’t you? Is that the name of a planet or—”
“Enough questions,” Ochi snapped. “I fly better in silence.”
Toah nodded, even though Ochi couldn’t see him from where he was facing, and said nothing further. Rey stared at him and he finally met her gaze, only to give her a tiny shake of the head.
Patience, was the only thing he communicated to her through the Force. Sighing quietly, she returned her attention to the viewport as the Bestoon Legacy cleared Jakku’s atmosphere and entered the blackness of space. After receiving the coordinates from Chek, Ochi punched them into the navigational computer and, within minutes, the stars streaked into lines of white as they made the jump into hyperspace.
“Rise, Brother Vizun.”
Vizun Naris rose to his extend height, his long black and red robes cascading down to cover his feet. He kept his hooded head bowed as the cloaked figure in front of him resumed speaking.
“What progress have you made?”
“Very little, I’m afraid,” Vizun replied. “The data we found remains encrypted and I’ve been trying desperately to find a slicer who will be able to decode it. Unfortunately, I have yet to find any success in that regard.”
“Alas, it is to be expected. Even to this day, much information pertaining to the period of the Galactic Wars remain lost. The Sith of Darth Mortilus were quite thorough in that regard.”
The two of them began to walk down the empty halls of the temple, surrounded by stone pillars that had survived the test of time. For countless generations, the temple had served as home to the last remaining members of the Revanite cult, after it had been reformed some time during the Draggulch Period two thousand years ago. Operating outside of the Sith, the Revanites had continued their worship of the ancient Sith Lord Darth Revan, dedicating their lives towards recovering and preserving anything they could find pertaining to the Dark Lord and his extended family. The planet of Talravin itself had been chosen as the cult’s gathering place as it had once been the homeworld of Jedi Master Bastila Shan, whom Revan went on to marry and start a family with. His bloodline would continued for the next three centuries, extending into the period of the Galactic Wars.
However, any records on Revan’s descendants past that point became lost around the time of Republic Dark Age when, in 1100 BBY, the Sith Lord Darth Mortilus commenced a data-attack that either corrupted or outright erased many records on the history of both the Sith and the Jedi, hoping to reshape the galactic community’s perception of the Jedi and sway their allegiance in the Sith’s favor. While most of the records from the Old Sith Wars and earlier had been recovered, much from the Galactic Wars period remained lost to time. Complicating matters even further were conflicting reports as to the identities and lives of important figures who lived during those times and had helped shape the course of the galaxy.
Because of the broad amount of information that had yet to be found, Vizun and his fellow Revanites had instead narrowed their search to only those who had been connected to Darth Revan himself. While they had been able to recover and piece together a majority of Revan’s family tree leading up to and including his descendant Satele Shan and her son Theron, anything afterward was a mystery. Some of Vizun’s more pessimistic colleagues took this to mean that Revan’s bloodline had died with Theron Shan; however, twenty years ago, a member named Avner had found evidence that Theron Shan had sired at least one child, though their identity — as well as if whether or not they had lived long enough to continue the bloodline — was unclear. To complicate things further, Avner had later been killed by the Sith Order he had been sent to infiltrate and the information had once again been lost. It was only recently that Vizun, through the efforts of his daughter Lysira, had been able to recover that information, though it had been heavily encrypted since it had been in Avner’s possession. Despite Vizun’s best efforts, it had remained in that state for the past two years.
The two of them eventually reached a wide antechamber, where other members of the cult were gathered. Their numbers had thinned in the last several years; where once there had been hundreds, now there were only half a dozen. All of them were arranged in a circle around the center of the chamber, their heads bowed as their hoods concealed their faces.
While Vizun took position between two of his fellow cultists, the one he had been following stepped out into the center of the circle. They raised their arms as they addressed the other five.
“Brothers and sisters, I have good news to deliver to you. After many months of meditation and painstaking work, I have at last unlocked the secrets of the holocron that Brother Vizun provided us.”
The Revanite reached into their cloak and produced a pyramidal-shaped Sith holocron, raising it high for all to see. Vizun had smuggled it from Lady Saarai’s Sith library on Jaguada just before Lysira had ordered for it to be destroyed. Of all the holocrons that had been in the possession of Darth Sedriss’ Sith Order, this one had intrigued Vizun the most due to the fact that none of the twelve Sith Masters in the Order had been able to open it as well as the fact that it had supposedly belonged to a Sith Lord who lived during the time of the Galactic Wars. While it may have had little to do with Darth Revan, it would have nonetheless provided them with an insight as to the era that had been forgotten.
“Yes, my friends,” the Revanite went on. “This holocron is none other than that of Darth Nox, Lord of the Dark Council and last known overseer of the Pyramid of Ancient Knowledge!”
Gasps rang out from the court. “Impossible,” exclaimed one acolyte. “I thought Darth Imperius was the one who held that honor.”
“You were mistaken, Sister Drista,” the Revanite said coolly. “The holocron does not lie. Behold, my brethren, the dark secrets of Lady Nox hersel—”
A chill fell over the room. The Revanite suddenly ceased speaking, tucking the holocron away in their cloak. Vizun felt himself shiver as the other acolytes exchanged glances whilst murmuring amongst themselves. The leader of the Revanites affixed their gaze on him, eyes cold with rage.
“Were you followed?” they hissed.
Vizun hastily shook his head. “No. At least, I don’t think so.”
“Lies,” muttered another cultist. “We are not alone. Someone is here.”
“How perceptive of you.”
The voice was loud, modulated as if coming from some sort of apparatus. All six acolytes drew their lightsabers, bathing the chamber with red light.
“You should have done better to hide yourself, Vizun Naris,” the voice continued, coming from all around them. “This new life of yours isn’t much different from your old one.”
“Explain yourself, Brother Vizun,” said the female acolyte from before. “Who is this intruder?”
“I swear to you, I have no idea who this is!” snapped Vizun.
“They obviously know of you,” said another. “Clearly they must—”
The cultist let out a shriek as a dark shape suddenly moved from the shadows and cut through the cultist with a crackling red blade. As the acolyte crumpled to the ground, two others moved to attack the intruder, only to meet the same fate. Down to only three, the remaining Revanites — Vizun, the leader, and Sister Drista — backed away from their assailant, raising their lightsabers in defensive positions. Their attacker, who was clad in all-black robes and wore a face-concealing mask, slowly approached them, crossguard lightsaber in hand.
“You and your fellow Sith seem to be very attached to the past,” said the dark man. “Always looking to those who came before in order to solve the mysteries of today.”
“Don’t posture us with your insolent riddles,” snapped the Revanite leader. “You clearly know nothing of what you—”
They failed to react in time as the warrior swung his saber and cut them down. Vizun and his remaining Sister continued to back away, gripping their weapons tightly.
“The problem with constantly looking behind you,” the warrior went on, undeterred, “is that you sometimes fail to see what is in front of you.”
“Who are you?” breathed Sister Drista. “You seem strong in the Force. I can sense it.”
“My name does not matter to you. Dead men have no need of such knowledge.”
“We need not kill each other.” Keeping her lightsaber activated, Drista through back her hood, revealing a round shaved head. “Perhaps we are more like than unlike each other than either of us realizes.”
“I doubt it.” The masked man tilted his head. “However, I may consider sparing you if you give me the man I have come here for.”
“You mean Brother Vizun?”
Vizun gave his fellow acolyte an incredulous look. “Sister Drista, you can’t seriously be considering—”
She turned to face him, her face displaying no signs of sympathy. “I’m sorry, Brother Vizun, but sometimes sacrifices must be made. Rest assured that your memory will—”
Vizun opened his mouth to cry out but the unstable crimson blade had already sliced through Drista before he could even say her name. As her body crumpled to the floor, he was left standing alone before the masked warrior. Sighing in resignation, he shut off his lightsaber and tossed it aside.
“What are you waiting for?” he said, spreading his arms wide. “Kill me.”
“Not yet,” the masked man replied. “First, I need to know the locations of your fellow Sith. I’ve already dealt with Su Koda and Count Valmar, and I know that Zarmach, Saarai, Paxis, Serpriss, and Versutus are already accounted for. That just leaves you and three others.”
Vizun narrowed his eyes. “You’re one of them, aren’t you? One of Taral’s followers.”
“I am no follower of Taral,” the masked man said sharply. “Although if you are aware of his location as well, I would much appreciate such information.”
Vizun felt his heart skip a beat. He had, in fact, recently received communication from his daughter Lysira, whom he had not spoken to since she had disbanded her Sith Order following the Battle of Mandalore. In her message, she had told him where she had gone to and that she had started a family with Varon, whom he had long suspected of having been her lover. She had offered to have him stay with them on Damosus, perhaps even become the new home for the Order of Revan as it had once been thousands of years ago. He found himself feeling grateful now that he had not yet taken her up on the offer; otherwise, he would have doomed his family to the same fate he was about to suffer.
Looking into the slit of his soon-to-be murderer’s mask, he said, “I will tell you nothing.”
“No.” The man raised a hand to Vizun’s face. “You will tell me everything.”
Vizun screamed as he entered a world of pain. Memories and knowledge were forced to the surface of his mind, which he did everything in his power to keep at bay. But the masked man was too strong, too powerful for him to fight back against. The names spilled out of his mouth without filter.
When he was done, he collapsed onto the floor, panting heavily. Kylo Ren held his lightsaber above his neck, ready to deliver the fatal blow.
“Thank you for your cooperation,” was the last thing he heard before everything went dark.