Stepping along the marshy streets of Kaas City's ruins, which were already succumbing to the aggressive flora of the former Imperial capital, Revan sensed the unseen presence of a mighty entity. The Force itself trembled around him in tension, acknowledging the boundless power of the master of this place. Even in Vitiate's throne room, Revan had not felt such crushing pressure. Breathing was difficult, and every beat of his heart was a struggle, as if the world itself wanted to annihilate the unwelcome guest. Even Nathema was a more pleasant place compared to the deserted Dromund Kaas.
The former Sith knew exactly where he needed to go. The ruins of the Dark Council Citadel still towered proudly over the remnants of the once-magnificent city. Revan felt the journey would be difficult. As he approached his goal, the pressure relentlessly intensified. Only the Force prevented its acolyte from losing consciousness when he was no longer able to draw breath.
An unseen steel band squeezed his chest, his eyes watered from the searing sensation of heated sand on his cornea, as if all moisture had been leeched from the air.
Revan called out to the Darkness that raged around him, begging for help and relief from the suffering... but the Force did not answer. The fear, which had arisen in his soul from the very first second on this swampy, abandoned planet, threatened to erupt into primal terror. This had never happened before! The Force had never ignored its acolyte!
A sudden roar yanked Revan from his troubled thoughts, causing him to stare in shock at the remnants of the Citadel.
The seemingly monolithic structure suddenly cracked, and within seconds, it crumbled into a pile of stones, disappearing into an impenetrable cloud of anthracitic dust. It was as if a black shadow had risen against the stronghold that cast it, and consumed the weakened structure, erasing its very memory.
Barely managing to shield himself from the debris and the terrifying dust cloud by calling upon the few remnants of the Light that had not yet fled this place, Revan struggled to keep his balance.
But what happened next made the Force acolyte forget all the discomfort and strangeness of this hostile world.
From the settling dust cloud emerged a tall figure in a black cloak and a deeply drawn hood. It exuded an immeasurable power that almost caused Revan to lose control of his own body. His legs were shaking treacherously, threatening to buckle at any moment and force the former Jedi to his knees.
Taking a few steps, the cloaked figure suddenly stumbled and, comically waving its arms, nearly sprawled on the ground.
"Oie-oie-oie! Mesa so clumsy!" squeaked the clear master of this place, in a high-pitched, yet painfully familiar voice, lifting himself into the air with the Force to avoid falling.
"What the..."
Before Revan could finish speaking, the cloaked figure instantly closed the distance and appeared directly opposite him.
In the dark maw of the hood, a pair of eyes glowed like crimson flame... mounted on short stalks... towering above a grinning face... a muzzle... of Jar Jar... Binks?!
Revan didn't even have time to react to the feeling of threat before his body was suddenly bound by unseen restraints.
"Stupid Revan," squeaked the... Gungan!!! "...Yourself little-little nothing compared to true Sith'ari!"
'In the name of the Force!' Revan exclaimed mentally. 'What Bogan is going on here?!'
In the next moment, his own lightsabers, ripped from his belt by the opponent, pierced Revan's already nearly stopped heart...
"Ah!"
Revan shot up from the bed, instantly surrounding himself with a Force shield and summoning his weapons to his hands. The silver glow of his blade illuminated the captain's cabin of the Dawn's Eagle, allowing him to examine his surroundings.
There was no one around.
"A dream?" the former Jedi asked with a sigh of relief, feeling the blood pounding in his temples from the amount of adrenaline coursing through his veins.
"A cursed dream!" Revan exclaimed, deactivating his blades.
Sinking heavily back onto the bed, the former Jedi rubbed his face with his palms, finally shaking off the delusion.
"In the name of the Great! A dream!" Revan burst into near-mad laughter, releasing the tension.
His body was trembling. The sensations had been too real.
"Ashla and Bogan, what kind of madness did I dream up?!"
Revan did not doubt for a moment that it was a dream.
But what on the Outer Rim had caused such a delusional... undoubtedly, a nightmare!
Recalling yesterday, the mentor of two young Force acolytes thought he had found the answer. It was all because of Anakin. The boy missed his family and friends. Unfortunately, among those he considered close was that thrice-cursed, big-eared Gungan. During a joint meditation training session, the goal of which was to try and use the Force to locate acquaintances and feel the direction toward them, Skywalker had suddenly thought of that walking disaster. Which had been reflected in Revan.
"And last night probably contributed too," the former Jedi thought, noticing the empty bottle on the table.
It had been brought by... Maul... he thought. Or was it Tira?
"I will never drink Dathomirian Ale again!" Revan hissed through gritted teeth. "I'd rather have a hangover from Kashyyyk Brew than dreams like that!"
The chronometer indicated that it was still deep night by ship time.
Yet, sleep was completely gone, and the former Jedi had no intention of returning to bed.
"A Gungan of the Hutts," Revan muttered.
The occupant of the cabin began to pace his quarters, walking round after round, but his nerves would not settle. Not even quoting the Code, which usually calmed him even before the most difficult battles of the Mandalorian Wars, helped!
"HK!" Revan called out, unable to bear it, speaking through the intercom.
"Joyful Greeting: Good night, Master! How may I be of service?" the assassin droid responded cheerfully.
"A mere trifle, but one you will enjoy."
"Interested Inquiry: What is required, Master?"
"The next time you see a Gungan named Jar Jar Binks, empty two clips of a heavy blaster into him... no, make it three," Revan commanded, laughing like a madman. "Then take the body to the lifeless planet Nathema and burn it. I will give you the coordinates."
The command was so delightful that HK-47 nearly fried his vocoder trying to suppress a joyful shriek. The Master! Had asked! To kill!!! The hated Gungan!!!!!
The droid himself didn't realize how his head spun three hundred and sixty degrees, like some astromech droid!
"Joyous Agreement: Master! Not a trace of that loathsome amphibian will remain!" HK responded over the intercom, practically sparking with delight.
"Excellent. The Force favors the prepared."
The next morning, when the empty bottle of Dathomirian Ale was nowhere to be found in the cabin, Revan was left unsure whether he had actually given the order to HK, or if that episode had been part of the dream too.
"I need more rest," the former Jedi concluded, sinking into a meditative trance. "The things one imagines..."
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