The final conversation between Revan and the Exile (Lysia) after Malachor. Written from Lysia's point of view.
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“Are you awake?”

I turn my head at the sound, a sting to my eyes as I force them open. The lights of the medbay burn. Colors and shadows melt into each other, ambient sounds mixing with sight, the entirety of the room taking too long to come into focus.

Standing by the door, opposite my bed, is Revan. She leans back against the wall, arms crossed, having foregone the customary armor in favor of simpler dark-colored robes. My muddled thoughts make me question if she is a hallucination - I do not feel her presence. The energy that always gathers around her, flaring like a beacon, is nowhere to be seen.

“Awake? I think so.” I do my best to sit up in bed, twisting the covers beneath my fingers as if that would ease the pain spreading across my body. My mind suddenly jolts with recollection. “The battle- Malachor. What happened?”

"It is over,” Revan confirms. She pushes herself from the wall, stepping forward. “You did well. I expect we will have a formal surrender in a few hours."

My shoulders drop in relief. It is over, I repeat to myself. This war will at last come to an end. For a second, I feel at peace.

And a second later, it all breaks apart.

Flashing memories cut through the haze, each stabbing like a blade. Destruction, suffering, death. My comrades falling before my eyes. Darkness.

"No. Something went wrong," I rush out the words. "There was too much damage. Our troops-"

"It went as it should have."

Her matter-of-fact tone shifts my gaze to her. She meets it with an impassive expression. A terrible feeling I cannot describe pushes aside all the pain, and my voice comes out like a trembling whisper, ”Revan, what did you do?”

She tilts her head to one side as if just asked a nonsensical question, before giving into a smirk.

“I won.”

For a moment, I forget how to breathe. I try to better focus on Revan through the blur, the back of my mind clinging to some desperate, foolish hope that this woman is not my old friend.

She stands still and collected, as if guessing my thoughts and waiting my appraisal. Her eyes are pale and colorless - were they not blue before? - but the spirit behind them is the same, cleverness and strength and determination shining through. My thoughts tying themselves into knots, I can only lower my head in defeat.

"We are not done yet." Revan shakes her head, crossing her arms over her chest.

"You said-"

"The next target is the Republic. I am sure you agree they have more than proved their inefficiency. It is their time to fall."

All at once, the reality of the situation explodes within me. My vision is overwhelmed by pain and by tears, my body both hurts and feels senseless, my soul aches and yet feels empty.

"This is wrong." My throat burns as I speak. "Why are you- I will not- I cannot allow you to do this!"

"Threats are not so effective when you seem more dead than alive."

"Please, there is still time. Whatever you are planning, don't-'' I nearly choke on my words and my tears. And yet from the corner of my eye, I see Revan only sneers at my pleas. I know she will not listen to me, that she will not give up - when has she ever? My heart clenches. "We should never have come."

Revan scoffs out a laugh. Cold. Cruel. "Are you agreeing with the Council now?"

"Maybe I am. I only wanted to help those who were suffering, and now look at what we have done," I tell her. "Look at you."

"Crawl back to your masters and beg for forgiveness, then," she says, with a voice so disdainful I can hardly recognize it. There is a finality in her tone that crushes whatever is left of me. "Goodbye, Lysia."

Like a broken, listless doll, I say nothing as she turns and walks away, throwing her last words without looking back.

"Let us hope we do not meet again."