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"Now you sound like the Jedi" she said carefully. Darovit was clearly up to something, but she couldn't figure out what it was.

"I'm starting to realize they're better than the alternative," he admitted. "I know what's going to happen, Zannah. If Bane dies, you'll kill Caleb."

She hesitated, then nodded. "Probably." There was no point in lying.

"You're balanced on the precipice" her cousin warned her, his voice suddenly urgent and intense. "You can still turn back from this life, Zannah. But if Bane dies, I know your desire to avenge him will drive you to murder Caleb. And I'm afraid your Master's death will push you over the edge. It'll turn you into him.

"I don't want you to turn into him," he added more softly, nodding down at Bane's motionless form on the gurney. "I have to save you from yourself. I had to find some way to stop you from killing Caleb. So I convinced him to heal Bane. It's the only way to make you turn away from the teachings of the Sith."

"That… that makes no sense," Zannah said, her mind reeling as she tried to wrap her head around his logic. "If Bane lives he'll never let me abandon my studies." And why would I even want to? she added silently.

"Before Caleb will help," her cousin explained, "you have to dispatch one of the Loranda's message drones. You have to tell the Jedi where we are so they can come and arrest Bane."

"What?" Zannah shouted, taking a half step away from him, "That's crazy!"

"No, it's not!" he said, grabbing her by the arm with his good hand and pulling her back to face him. "Please, Zannah, just listen to me. If you send that message to the Jedi and hand Bane over to them, it will prove you're turning your back on the ways of the Sith. It will show you want to make up for all the pain and suffering you've caused.

"And it's the only way Caleb will agree to heal him," he added a second later, letting go of her arm.

"You saw what Bane can do," she said. "What's to stop him from killing the Jedi when they get here?"

"The orbalisk toxin is melting Bane's body from the inside. Even with Caleb's help it will be weeks, maybe months, before he can even get out of bed."

"So what's to stop me from just taking Bane away as soon as he's healed?"

"Your greatest weapon is secrecy. The Jedi think your Order is extinct. They won't waste their time chasing shadows every time someone whispers the word Sith. That's the only reason you've been able to survive so far.

"But once you send off the message drone, everything changes. They'll know the Sith still exist. They'll have the proof they need to drive them to action. Every Jedi Knight and Jedi Master across a million worlds will be searching for you. The Sith won't be able to hide anymore."

Zannah knew he was right. It was the very reason Bane had worked so hard to keep their existence nothing more than an unfounded rumor.

"Besides," Darovit added, "Caleb won't do anything unless we disable the ship first. If you try to run, you'll have to drag Bane out into the desert on foot. Even if he survived the trip, you wouldn't get very far before the Jedi arrived."

"Sounds like the healer doesn't trust me," Zannah mumbled darkly.

"You did almost kill him," her cousin pointed out.

"If I hand him over to the Jedi," she wondered aloud, "what happens to me?"

"I don't know," the young man admitted. "The Jedi might arrest you, too. But I'm hoping they'll recognize your actions as a turning point in your life. Maybe they'll see it as an attempt to make amends.

"Maybe they'll even take you in," he suggested. "I've heard the Jedi believe in the power of redemption. And, like I said, it's better than the alternative."

"What about you?" she asked. "What will you do?"

"I won't be part of this if you choose to kill Caleb and let Bane die," he told her. "But I don't think you will."

"How can you be so sure?"

"I've told you, Zannah-we share a bond. I can tell what you're thinking, what you're feeling. You're afraid of being alone… but you're not alone. Not anymore.

"You'll make the right choice. And when you do, I'll be there for you."

She weighed the offer carefully, chewing on her lip so hard her teeth drew blood. If she refused, Bane was dead and she'd have to continue the Sith Order on her own. Kill Caleb, find an apprentice… probably kill Darovit, too. If she agreed, she had to betray her Master to the Jedi, which would mark the end of the Sith and the first step in her long road of redemption and atonement.

"Bane's time is running out," her cousin prodded. "You have to decide."

The two paths loomed large before her: alone into the darkness, or into the light with Darovit at her side. She spun the problem over and over in her mind until, finally, the answer came to her.

"Tell Caleb I agree to his demands."

***

Bane opened his eyes slowly; his lids felt heavy, weighed down as if they were lined with metal filings. He could feel them brushing over his pupils, rubbing like sandpaper as he blinked against the harsh light streaming down on him. The brightness made him squint again as he tried to sit up.

His body refused to move. Legs, arms, and torso ignored the impulses from his brain to rise. Even his head couldn't budge. There was sensation in his extremities: He could tell he was lying on his back, and he could feel the rough grain of a burlap sheet or a coarsely woven cloth against his skin. But he was paralyzed, unable to move.

He let his eyes flicker open once more, and the brightness began to fade as his pupils gradually contracted. He was staring up at a low, sloping ceiling of simple wooden planks. A ray of sunlight beamed through a narrow crack in the wood, shining directly on his face.

Groaning he managed to turn his head to the side so the light no longer hit his eyes. The change of angle also gave him a better view of the room he was in: small, plain, and strangely familiar. Before he could match the setting to any of his memories, a figure stepped into his line of sight.

From the fact that he was staring directly into a pair of worn leather boots, Bane deduced that he was lying on the floor. The figure stood over him for a moment, then crouched down to look him in the eye.

The face-ten years older, but unmistakable-jogged the Dark Lord's memory. He had lain on this very floor over a decade earlier on the border between life and death, even as he lay now.

Caleb, he tried to say, but the only sound that came out was a soft groan. Like the rest of his body, his lips, tongue, and jaw refused to move. Bane tried to call upon the power of the dark side to grant him strength, but his will was as weak and helpless as the rest of him.

"He's awake," Caleb called out loudly, never taking his eyes off his patient.

From outside Bane heard the sound of approaching footsteps. He tried to speak again, pouring all his strength into a single word.

"Caleb."

His voice was a faint whisper, but this time the word was clear. The healer didn't bother to respond. Instead he stood up, leaving Bane staring at his boots once more. Bane heard the dull thud of running footsteps on the sand outside change to the sharp clack of boot heels on the shack's wooden floor.

"Let me see him!"

He recognized the voice of his apprentice, and his mind slowly began to reassemble the pieces of what had happened. He remembered the battle with the Jedi on Tython; he remembered unleashing a storm of Force lightning at the last of his foes. He remembered the kriffing shield the Ithorian Master had thrown up around him. After that, all his memories were of unbearable pain.

Somehow the Jedi's barrier had trapped Bane inside the center of the dark side storm. The electricity had enveloped him, millions of volts arcing through his body, cooking his flesh from the inside and throwing his muscles into an endless series of violent seizures that threatened to rip his body apart.