Disclaimer: it's BioWare's, not mine.
They say that pets do not understand speech, only intonation…and their names.
This is how I feel now, while Malak is rambling on and on.
I am not able to discern the words. Something inside me keeps telling me that I must not try to, for all he is striving to achieve with his speech is to distract me, so he could leap on me and end with his lightsaber what he began with his ship's cannons.
So I am shutting my ears from his voice as best I can, but he is no ordinary man. He bombards my other senses, hammering in the truth that stayed hidden from me for so long.
For it is true, I know it. I know it from the depth of Malak's gloating, from the tangled mixture of feelings pouring from Bastila – fear, desperation, confusion…and not a little sympathy. Amid all the shock, I cannot help feeling the same for her…the poor girl, caught in a whirlpool of events she never wanted to be part of.
And there is also Carth, and I dare not venture to probe his emotions, for fear of what I may find there.
My mind reels at what has been done to me. What are you supposed to feel when you learn that all your conscious memories are nothing but one big lie? I don't know…I really don't.
Revan, he says again. I was Revan. I am Revan. I brought a new evil to this galaxy and allowed it to evolve into Malak's kind of evil. For an instant, a rage so deep engulfs me that I can barely breathe. Against Bastila, for saving me. Against the Council, for not letting me die and spinning this web of deceit. Against Carth, for what I am afraid to sense from him. I want to scream and give in to that rage, to kill…whom? The three that are with me here? Myself?
But an instant it is, nothing more.
I am not only Revan. The Jedi did not merely take something from me…they gave me something too. They gave me this new me, a person I like so much more, and that is not going away simply because I learned that I used to be Malak's master. I am not going to let her go.
I take a deep breath, telling my muscles, tense to the point of being cramped, to relax. The Force flows through me, all the way to my fingers, curled around the hilt of my extinguished lightsaber. I finally allow myself to listen to Malak's words.
'Once I defeat you in combat no one will question my claim to the Sith throne; my triumph will be complete!' he says, his voice trembling with anticipation.
I turn my head slightly to look at Bastila, who seems to have forgotten how to breathe. I send her that smirk of mine that infuriated her so much. This time, however, I get a quirk of her lips in return, as she slowly exhales.
'Triumph, Malak?' I say, almost conversationally. 'You seem to forget that I'm still alive!'
And my lightsaber hums to life with a clear green light.