Chapter Text
Revan was dead.
There was a time when a galaxy without her in it would have been unthinkable for Malak. But he was a different man then; content to live in her shadow, to hang on her every word, to follow her lead as he had since they were children. Whether it was to the war or beyond the edge of known space, wherever Revan led, Malak would follow.
He would have done anything for her. And she knew it. But that was long ago — before she started them on the path that led them here.
The Leviathan’s laser cannons rained fire on Revan’s flagship. Malak watched from the safety of the Leviathan’s bridge, his arms crossed over his chest and his gray eyes staring unblinkingly as he watched Revan’s ship buckle under the onslaught.
His master’s cold rage at his betrayal sent a tremor through the Force so strong even those with the weakest of connections would have sensed it and fear for their lives. It was made only stronger for Malak through the bond that once flowed so naturally between them. He felt it as Revan turned her rage onto the strike team of Jedi sent to capture both Sith Lords.
Among the Jedi, Malak was surprised to sense Bastila Shan.
The Council must be truly desperate to risk losing their most precious pawn and her Battle Meditation.
If Malak could still smile, he would.
After a lifetime of losing every game of strategy, he had finally outsmarted Revan.
A well-aimed shot from the Leviathan exposed the bridge of Revan’s ship to the vacuum of space for a split second before the ray shields flickered on. In that same instant, Malak felt the echo of a brutal blow to the back of his head. He grunted under his mask, digging his nails into his bicep. The pain was only a shadow of what Revan must have felt, but it was enough to force him to concentrate on breathing through it until it passed. And when it did, he realized their connection was weakening.
Revan was dying.
Her presence, always lingering like a whisper in his thoughts, had finally gone silent. Malak was suddenly the only person in his own mind for the first time in decades. What remained of her that he could sense was slipping away — an eerily quiet death for one who had burned so bright in the Force.
The bond strained, struggling to hold onto his other half, until it snapped.
Something between his ribs echoed that break. It almost brought him to his knees, but he stayed on his feet through sheer willpower, clenching his fists so tight his blunt nails drew blood.
This was his moment of triumph — he would not give her the satisfaction of humiliating him one last time.
Malak slowly opened his eyes, the black spots in his vision fading. He looked out to the black of space to see Revan’s ship being pulled into the gravity of the planet below. Fire and smoke billowed out from the decimated vessel as it hurtled through the atmosphere, disappearing into the clouds without a sound.
Soon, it would crash into the planet’s surface, the last remnant of Revan gone forever.
Malak waited to feel something. The apprentice had finally usurped the master. He would never be second to anyone ever again — the galaxy was his for the taking.
But there was only the deafening silence where she used to be.
“Lord Malak.”
The Lord of the Sith startled in a way very unbecoming of his new title. He could sense Admiral Kareth standing at attention behind him. If he noticed Malak’s blunder, he hid it well, but Malak considered cutting the old man in half anyway just to save himself the embarrassment. But he quickly dismissed the thought. Kareth was far too competent to do away with on a whim.
Malak fixed his gaze back to the stars and answered the Admiral’s unasked question, “Revan is dead.”
Kareth bowed his head and stepped back. In the reflection of the viewport’s glass, Malak saw the Admiral gesture to the other officers to follow him off the bridge and Malak realized he must not have been as composed as he thought if Kareth deemed it prudent to remove the crew. They all moved silently and efficiently, the door closing behind them with a soft hiss and for the first time since he was a child, Malak was truly alone.
Revan was dead.
Nothing could have prepared him for the emptiness that would come after.
He lifted his hand to rub his brow but realized his hand was covered in his own blood from how tightly he had clenched his fist. Malak held his hand up to his face, watching the blood collect in his palm and drip to the floor.
“What have you done, Alek?”
Malak turned on his heel, her name escaping his vocalizer in a gasp, but he was met with empty space on an empty bridge. He looked around in total confusion before steeling his gaze.
He hadn’t imagined it — it had been nothing more than a whisper, but it was unmistakably Revan’s voice; softer than he had heard it in years. Could it have been some forgotten memory brought to the surface by their broken bond or Revan herself punishing him for his betrayal by tethering her spirit to his?
It would be just like her — clinging to life any way she could just to spite him.
But the apparition or whatever it was didn’t show itself again and Malak closed his eyes, the long breath he took rattling through his prosthetic vocal cords.
Revan is dead. I am the Lord of the Sith now.
And suddenly, the loss of someone who had once made him whole became very real. The girl he had followed to war was forever beyond his reach.
A small part of him, buried deep and rarely paid any attention, wondered who he would be now without Revan.