The leader of the Jedi strike team jumped out of a red saber's way, the plasma nearly burning through her spinning battle robe. As she landed, she landed a force-enchanced palm to the Sith's nose and stole his saber. The red blade arced through its former master, and he fell to the ground. She shook her head at the deaths she would need to cause, but was glad to be alive nonetheless.

The Jedi had little time to savor her small victory, however, as she was soon set upon by a pair of silver-bladed warriors. Imperial Knights. Many of the Imperial Remnant had abandoned the Triumvirate after the truth of the Fel assassination came out, with both Imperial Knights and Stormtroopers casting off the rule of the ever weakening Moff Council for that of their true Emperor – the new Darth Revan. The Jedi woman thought it odd, yet somehow comforting, that the man had allowed the Imperial Knights to remain as such rather than force the philosophy of the Sith upon the deserters. She could sense no more rage or hate coming from the two warriors than was the norm for Force wielders entrenched firmly in the gray. Still, she had to make it through the ship, and their eyes said that surrender was not a possibility.

The Jedi raised the red saber, refusing to ignite her own for even a moment. She deflected the blow from the first, a female white Twi'lek of around 1.7 meters. The silver saber crashed into the stolen red blade with a flash and hiss. The Jedi knew that the battle before her was meant only to distract: the other Imperial Knight was circling around her to land a death blow even as the Jedi deflected another incoming blow from the Twi'lek. When the skin on the Jedi's neck began to prickle, she twisted out of the way. The silver saber slashed through the air where she had been but a moment before and collided with its sibling. The Imperial Knights pulled, annoyed, from the saber lock and turned their attention back to the Jedi. "Surrender," she told the Imperial Knights, despite knowing it was futile.

Her only answer was an attack made by the two. The Jedi sighed sadly and brought her red blade up, easily deflecting the closest blow. From there, she jumped and twisted through the air between the first silver saber and the incoming second one. Landing on the wrist of the Twi'lek, she brought the red plasma through her chest before kicking the deactivating silver blade into the throat of the other Knight, a human male with dark features of about 1.9 meters. As the two fell, dead, to the ground, the Jedi grunted in disgust and tossed the Sith weapon in her hand to the ground. "Report," the Grand Admiral's voice buzzed in her ear, amidst the sounds of explosions.

"There is only one more room between us and Revan," the woman stated as she brushed a strand of red hair out of her eyes. She looked around at the heavily breathing forms of the strike team, Jedi and Loyalist Knights, a small group of Imperial Knights who had not betrayed the decaying Moff Council. "We've lost two so far."

"That makes you, what, seven? No, eight. You can't afford any more losses," the Admiral told the Jedi. "You and I both know he could still take all of y – "

"Yes, I do know there is still a chance that what little remains of this strike team will still lose to Revan," the Jedi replied, her voice firm. It suddenly took on a subtly sad note. "But I believe that we may still kill him."

"I don't doubt you. I've seen you fight," the Admiral replied. He sighed. "Just... just finish this. It's been too long since..."

"Understood," the Jedi replied before signing off. She turned her attention to the team. "Hope you've had enough rest, we have a whole other room to deal with." She received a few grumbles of affirmation and complaining, and so turned to the door. She placed her palm flat on the durasteel plating and took a deep breath. "3...2...1...Now." The door suddenly seemed to implode, the durasteel bending in upon itself into what looked like a huge, crumpled piece of paper. With a flick of her wrist, the remnants of the door flew forward, colliding with – and killing – a small squadron of Sith soldiers and Sith Force Users. The strike team behind the Jedi was already in the room, having leaped through the doorway even as the metal keeping it shut was crushed. Blades crashed with blades, and Sith Troopers died from their own ricocheting blaster bolts.

"The master was wondering when you would arrive," one of the Sith said as the Jedi leader approached the center of the room. Twin red blades snapped into being from the black, flowing robes of the masked Sith, who glared with blood red, hate filled eyes from behind a cloth mask. "He was adamant that it would be you who would come to try and kill him."

The Jedi smiled sadly and pulled her shoto from within her robes. "In my heart, I think I knew it too," she replied. She ignited her orange saber and walked calmly towards the Sith Warrior, the leader of the room. He snarled at her and jumped with a rage filled grace towards her. His red saber narrowly missed slicing through the woman's shoulder as she turned to avoid it, and she brought her shoto down to kill the Sith. Unfortunately, the second saber easily deflected the orange blade that arced down.

"He knows you are here. He's waiting for you," the Sith whispered as he stood up. He flicked his sabers before him, the red flickering as they scraped past one another. "He has asked you be brought before him alive. He did not, of course, specify the state you would need to be in."

The woman furrowed her brow and began dodging anc countering the blows of increasing speed. She knew this was the hardest fight she had taken part in on the ship... at least until she reached the next room. Her single shoto collided with the red plasma of the Sith's twin weapons in flashes of yellow. "What?" the Sith asked as his sabers locked with hers. "Aren't you going to try and turn me to the Light?"

The woman blinked disinterestedly. "Why waste time and energy?" she asked. She lashed out with her foot and the Sith stumbled backwards, clutching at his gut. The Jedi rushed forward and brought her blade up to kill the Sith. Her blade was narrowly stopped by the red of her opponent's sabers.

The battles raged on, with members of the team falling to the blades of their enemies. Sith and their Imperial allies did the same to the strike team's weaponry, screaming in pain as plasma arced through their bodies. "It would seem you are as strong as Lord Revan insisted," the Sith told the woman gleefully. His second saber twirled around, feinting, and his other saber came down to kill her. The woman deflected the incoming blow into the feinting blade and the Sith stumbled away. "Or perhaps he was under selling you."

"Surrender and maybe you can survive to the end of this war," the woman told the Sith.

"Surrender and maybe you can share his bed again," the Sith retorted. Even behind his mask, his mouth contorted into a toxic, sneering, grin.

The woman skillfully hid her emotions: the only visible reaction she gave was a slight coloring of her pale cheeks below her violet eyes. In response to the Sith's taunts, she rushed forward with her saber to defeat her enemy. The orange and red clashed again after their brief reprieve. Deaths, combined with the ever sharpening focus of the two combatants, led to the sounds of the battles around the room quieting as time went on. The orange and red clashed over and over again, their staccato music the only breaks in the endless silence of their battle.

Finally, the only noise that could stop the two combatants echoed through the room. "Enough," a voice called. It was the voice of a man, around twenty seven, whose tone was that of practiced dispassion and serenity. It was real enough, the calm, but was still somewhat forced. The woman knew that the angry undercurrent to the voice was due to her proximity to the man. "Let the remaining Triumvirate Loyalists through without any further bloodshed. You will let me deal with them."

The red and silver sabers of Revan's followers disappeared as their masters deactivated the weaponry. "You heard the man," the Sith told the woman with a sneer. He stepped to the side. "You and your... four friends can enter the bridge, Jedi."

The woman narrowed her eyes to distrustful slits. She deactivated her shoto and placed it back onto her belt. She kept her hand on the weapon, however, sure that the Sith would quickly place his blade between her ribs. As she approached the door to the bridge with the other Jedi and three Loyalist Knights, no such secret attack occurred. It came to the woman's attention that the reason for that may be that Revan demanded not just the fear of the warriors underneath his command, but also their respect, their admiration, and their unquestionable loyalty.

That Darth Revan allowed the strike team into the bridge said even more terrifying things altogether. When she had last seen the man in battle, he had held his own against fifteen attacking Jedi Knights on a battlefield. It had been a slaughter. None had known him so intricately as she, of course, but that been of little help before as it was. With the knowledge that – even if the entire strike team of incredibly powerful Jedi and Loyalist Knights had survived – she could still lose, she placed her hand on the power system for the bridge entrance and it slid open.

At the helm of the bridge, five steps above any other present in the ship's command hub, stood Darth Revan, Supreme Dark Lord of the Sith. His black gloved hands were crossed behind his back as he stared out of the main view port, issuing quick commands to his admirals and apprentice on the other ships, his tactics and technology quickly decimating the Triumvirate forces above Telos IV. "Do you like the symbolism in this assault?" Revan asked her as he transferred control of the fleet to his apprentice's secondary flagship. He turned to her. His robes were very much a callback to his namesake's, though a very updated one. The bronze armor, a specialized graphite/cortosis weave, ran across most areas of his body, though it only appeared outside of the black robes at certain places. A bronze chestplate, wristguards, and shoulderpads appeared with almost organic shaping from within the cloth. The cloth itself was fitted at the torso, with a section hanging down in a semicircle around his legs down to Revan's ankles from his waist beneath a belt with a large, circular buckle. And underneath his hood was the mask. The Mask of Revan, an ancient, powerful artifact of Sith and Jedi. No saber sat at his belt. "Telos IV, the planet destroyed in my ancestor's war and restored by the Republic, much like Ossus was. A symbol of the ancient strength of the Jedi... and others who represent those that betrayed me." Revan paused and looked down slightly at the strike team. "Ana..."

The woman shut her violet eyes for a moment before returning Revan's stare. "Revan."

"You won't call me by that name anymore?" Revan asked, false indignation in his voice that was somewhat disguised by the filtration system of the mask. "Was it now I who wronged you?"

"I know what I did. I know that I killed Theron. Don't taunt me with it," Ana spat, her eyes welling up with tears. But she wouldn't let herself cry. Not for a moment. She took a deep breath to collect herself. "Don't ever taunt me with that, Darth Revan."

Darth Revan's body language was shaken ever so slightly. "I had hoped it wouldn't come to this. Not again," he said, his fists now clenched at either side of his body. "But you and triumvirate have forced my hand. There are things coming, and I would be remiss to leave the fate of this galaxy to the likes of you."

"How do you expect to fight us, Revan?" Ana asked as she ignited her sabers. One, the orange shoto she had reconfigured, now fused with a blaster at the bottom, and a simple white blade. "You have no blade."

"So you kept the crystal, after all this time," Revan muttered, barely audible. His gaze was locked on the white saber, even as the other sabers of Ana's strike team ignited around her. As soon as a single one of his own men ignited their saber, he raised his arm. "No. Do not engage them. Only me."

"Arrogant, are we?" Ana asked, despite knowing it was nothing of the sort. Bragging isn't bragging if it is true.

"Yes," Revan replied as he turned his outstretched hand downward and clenched it into a fist. His arm shook for a moment, and in a flash of brilliant white light, a silver cylinder marked with the Fel Dynasty coat of arms appeared in his hand. The Dark power of the crystal, formed from Darth Vader's – another of Revan's ancestors – ashes, that powered Revan's blade was but a speck compared to the maelstrom it was now among. He thumbed the ignition, and the bloody scarlet of the blade erupted into being. "I am not without mercy, however. Surrender. Perhaps I will allow you to survive."

The strike team made no moves to do as the Sith Lord had commanded. "Pity," he said, the rage finally running through his voice. He was suddenly among the strike team, his saber gliding in sweeping movements that cut through every member of the strike team in a few moments, save Ana, whose twin blades were the last to lock with Revan's.

"I have surpassed you, Ana Gann," Revan said as he flicked his wrist and sent the woman flying across the bridge. "There is nothing left here for you, now, save death."

Ana stumbled to her feet with a shake of her head, trying to clear the effects of the obvious concussion she had just gained for her troubles. Revan walked up to her, and she raised her twin sabers. Revan suddenly stopped and laughed. "What's so funny?" Ana asked as she felt blood leak from her forehead and into her eye.

"I've seen this before," Revan replied as he let his blade fall to his side. He stood on the seal in front of her. "Any last words? Are you going to curse Van's stupid little plan that's going to leave you as broken and lifeless as your father left my parents?"

As Ana began to reply, the ground beneath Revan exploded and his body was flung across the bridge. "Shields compromised! Hull integrity down to twenty percent!" one of the many soldiers working furiously on the defense systems cried out. Another explosion rocked the ship. "Fifteen percent!"

Revan struggled to his knees. "Abandon ship," he commanded, ignoring the woman he had been fighting. His saber disappeared in another flash of light. "Evacuate to the Behemoth, get everyone off and I will follow shortly. Now –!" Revan was cut off by another explosion that sent him flying off again. His body collided with the wall and fell to the ground in a bloody heap.

The first Sith to reach him shrieked in fear as he pulled his hand from the Dark Lord's neck. "He's dead!" he screamed. "Dead!" Panic overflowed throughout the ship, with all Sith and Imperials present in the bridge running off to fulfill their master's last order, terror in every movement and scream. Klaxons accompanied by red, flashing lights soon drowned out everything else.

Ana dragged herself over to Revan's body and clutched at his body. Even if he were dead, she could not leave him. And she wasn't sure she could believe he was truly dead. With whatever effort still lay in her body, Ana grabbed the man's and dragged him away to the escape pods. The Sith and Imperials around her seemed to ignore her, not even noticing she was on the ship at all anymore. Ana looked down at the man she was dragging across the ground. Even if Revan was dead, he could still be very useful to ending the war. And if he wasn't and he could see the error of his ways... maybe even more could be done.

"What's going on?" the grand admiral asked over the comms. "Revan's ship just lost all shields! Is he..."

"Maybe," Ana responded as she hefted the body into the escape pod. "Maybe, Van. Maybe."

Van, the grand admiral, began to reply, but his words over the comm were cut off by another explosion.

SWSWSWSWSW

Leon Reht's eyes flew open as the explosion rocked his bed. The rest of the Sith Special Forces woke up in tandem with him, the entire unit behaving like the distinct pieces of a single body. "What's going on?" the commander of the unit, a Devaronian with sawed down horns by the name of Captain Tarava, asked.

"The ship is under attack, Sir," his second in command responded.

Tarava nodded then turned to his men. "Gear up for defense of the ship, men. The Jagged Fel is under attack by the Triumvirate!"

AN: Hey everyone, here it is, the first chapter of the sequel to The Second Revanfall. I hope that the story can live up to any expectations that anyone may have or even surpass them. I've posted this in both the story itself and as the preview/epilogue at the end of the original story. If you're reading Knights of the New Empire right now without having read Revanfall, I'd go do that. The story contains everything you need to know about the central conflict that is going to occur in the sequel. Otherwise, please, sit back and enjoy Star Wars: Knights of the New Empire.