The Force pulsed in my chest, a chill weaving through my spirit as I stood in the Zha-Korran portal hub, my montrals trembling under its heavy presence. The hub stretched before me, a Rakata-forged expanse vast as a starport, its cortosis walls marred by rust, their glyph-carved conduits flickering with intricate geometric patterns. The Archeon portal's violet-blue vortex surged, casting fractured light across the chamber, its kyber core stuttering with an erratic rhythm. Vines snaked along the conduits, their caustic sap burning my skin, a bitter echo of Lehon's decay. The air scorched, alive with memories of violence, every breath tasting of rust and ozone, laced with the dark side's whisper, a sensation recalling Malachor's desolate ruins. Beyond, the clash of combat, saber hums, blaster fire, and the roars of Galen and Vicrul shattered the silence, their rivalry a tempest in the Force. Bloodied, frayed, but unbowed, we stood at a crossroads. My resolve held firm, but Varnis' smirk lingered in my mind, a silent taunt from Echo Prime where I let him slip from my grasp. That defeat fueled me now, a vow to halt the Covenant's reach and the Thalassian awakening: a threat that could unravel the galaxy's fragile peace. A conduit sparked, its glyphs glowing faintly, and the Force stirred a memory. Malachor, long ago, where I'd stood amid a Sith temple's ruins, a broken Rakata structure, its carvings worn by time. Those glyphs, like these, hinted at distant worlds through the Force. My instinct surged, Archeon's path lay here, a trail Varnis had taken, a backdoor to the Covenant's schemes.
"Huyang, the glyphs, focus on the cluster nearest the keystone conduit. Rakata logic always hid navigation cues beneath the obvious. We need those coordinates, and we need them now. We can't let him vanish again, old friend," I said, my voice steady, warm but tempered by urgency.
"Indeed, Master Tano. Rakata script, while needlessly dramatic, is at least consistent. If you'd refrain from breathing on the resonance field, I'll have Archeon's location shortly. And please, no sudden leaps across the controls this time. I still recall Lothal," Huyang replied, wry and unhurried, his metal hands precise as he traced the node's ancient script. The cortosis walls loomed, their resonance amplifying the kyber's cry, a warning that gnawed at my bones like a specter's call. The portal's violet arcs flared, its collapse a howl that tore through the air, a reminder of the stakes we faced. Beyond, Galen and Vicrul fought, their bickering a pulse I sensed through the Force. Shepard knelt by a conduit, his omni-tool humming, its orange glow lighting his face. He didn't look up, his alien device wrestling with the decryption. He had tamed such tech before, but this core seemed to give him pause, a dark side force resisting control. Revan stood beside him, rune-etched robes faintly luminous, steadying the core's chaos. His Mandalorian-runed mask concealed his expression, but his presence was a beacon, guiding us through this fight.
"Every time I think I've cracked ancient tech, the galaxy throws another curveball," Shepard said, deadpan, his jaw set with exasperation.
"Don't force the flow, Shepard. Listen for its rhythm. Rakata tech bends to the will, sometimes it yields, sometimes it shatters. Breathe, and find its center," Revan replied, measured while quietly intense, as a peer, not a superior.
Shepard glanced up, meeting Revan's gaze, his focus sharpening. Across the hub, Galen's twin sabers burned white-blue, carving through Covenant stragglers with precision honed by loss. His eyes carried a pain I recognized, a wound that drove him to fight for redemption. Vicrul's vibro-scythe slashed beside him, its phrik blade trailing charred scales, his fire a testament to his path from the dark to Je'daii. Their rivalry crackled, voices taut with battle's strain, a bond forged in defiance and trust. "Move, Marek! I'm not dragging you out if you fall. Faster, Covenant's on the run, but you're slower than you look," Vicrul commanded. "Relax, Fire Boy. You're not the only one with something to prove. Want to keep count, or keep the path clear?" Galen replied, dry and biting. "We'll see who's left standing," Vicrul said, edgy, competitive. Galen blocked a shot meant for Vicrul, his saber flashing. Vicrul glanced, a grudging nod. "Hmph. That doesn't make us even," he said, his tone reluctantly respectful. "Wouldn't dream of it," Galen replied, his breath steady.
The portal's cry intensified, and I circled Huyang, nerves fraying as the arcs shrieked. "Huyang, that's our window. Lock it in, or we'll lose them," I urged, firm but gentle, hope held steady. "Coordinates acquired. Stabilizing now. If the portal collapses, remind Galen that Rakata systems respond best to minimal drama," Huyang replied, soothing, rapid, his hands moving faster. The core flared, danger rising. Revan glanced up, his mask aglow, reading the chaos. "The kyber's volatile. I need someone to anchor themselves in the Force to maintain the current. This is our only chance at Archeon," he said, low and intense, his calm urgency a call to action. Vicrul stepped forward, shouldering his weapon, his voice rough but certain. "I'll hold it. Do what you have to, Herald. I won't break," he vowed, his loyalty shining through, a fire ablaze. Shepard rose, device stowed, his eyes scanning the portal's horizon, alert. "The Covenant's baiting us to chase them. Cute," he said, his soldier's instinct honed on what laid ahead.
I glanced from Revan to Galen to Vicrul, my nod quiet, certain. "We go as one," I said, my voice firm, a vow to the team and to myself. Revan turned, his voice rising, rich with history and hope. "We are the sum of every war and every hope that's brought us here. This portal is not only our path to the Covenant, it is the Je'daii's call to action. Through unity, through balance, we endure. Follow me, and let us protect our home," he declared, stirring the Force, igniting our resolve. I watched him, his words a blend of light and dark, the Je'daii way he'd carved from the grave. The Force stirred another memory. Coruscant, long ago, when I walked away from the Jedi Order, the Council's betrayal a wound that burned. I was cast out, their rigid code blinding them, and I'd chosen freedom over chains, seeking a path true to the Force. Revan's vision of balance, a Gray that wove independence with unity, a way to guide the next generation beyond the Jedi's failures. I saw its promise now, a bridge to a future where hope could thrive, and my determination solidified, my saber hilts steady as I readied to follow. "I'm with you, mask guy," Shepard said, cool and focused, his resolve unwavering. Galen glanced at Vicrul, a genuine thread of camaraderie in his voice. "Don't die stupid. There's still that score you need to settle," he said, a warning tempered by trust. "You wish it'd be that easy," Vicrul replied, tight, his fire now a shared strength. Huyang turned to me, his voice gentle, wry. "Go, Master Tano. May the Force favor your hunt," he said, a last push as I steeled myself. Revan surged through the vortex, the Je'daii Herald leading us into the unknown. I followed, Galen and Shepard beside me, their steps resolute, our bond a balance that resounded through the Force. The portal's radiance consumed us, a metallic hum and sterile air stirring, Archeon whispering dread like a Sith holocron's call. Varnis' trail beckoned, a hunt to halt the Thalassian tide that threatened all we'd rebuilt from a galaxy torn asunder.
A derelict Rakata space station hummed quietly, its ancient glyphs flickering briefly in acknowledgment, as the portal twisted space and deposited its travelers into the heart of an unseen destiny.
The event horizon spat us out like a wounded beast, and my stomach twisted, a sick lurch as the floor, or what should've been the floor, vanished beneath my boots, gravity abandoning us to a weightless expanse. My hands hovered near my twin sabers, their unlit hilts a cold promise at my hips, their presence a silent anchor against the disorientation. The air was sterile, a metallic tang clawing at my throat, saturated with the rust and scorched metal of this Rakata ruin. Shattered console fragments drifted around us, glinting under the dim, stuttering light, alongside frozen coolant spheres and a mangled droid arm spinning lazily, its fingers curled like a corpse's. The corridor stretched ahead, its cortosis walls etched with glyphs that pulsed faintly, as if the station itself were gasping under the weight of its history. The silence was sharp, broken only by my ragged breath and the faint buzz of fading lamps. Too quiet. Ahsoka drifted beside me, her hands poised near her unlit white sabers, her montrals twitching as she probed the darkness with the Force. Her presence was a steady ember, muted but resolute. Revan floated ahead, his rune-etched robes billowing in the weightless expanse, the Mandalorian-runed mask catching the fractured light like a predator's gaze. Shepard hung back, the glint of his N7 armor catching the light, its thrusters humming softly as he steadied himself, data-pad flickering orange on his wrist with a passive scan. His jaw was clenched, eyes sharp.
I pushed off a wall, my boots scraping the smooth cortosis, the motion sending me drifting forward in a slow, disorienting arc. Weightlessness was a cruel bantha, every move like wading through tar, my body fighting to find balance. Ahsoka glided with Force-guided grace, her robes trailing like a specter's shroud, while Revan adjusted with a subtle push of his own, his masked face a shadow in the dimness. Shepard's thrusters flared briefly, magnetic soles clicking against a panel before he let go, floating with a precision I envied. "Never thought I'd miss gravity. Least when you fall, you hit something you'd expected," I said, low, almost to myself, my eyes flicking to each ally, voice ragged but controlled. Ahsoka's gaze lingered on me a heartbeat longer than needed, her tone sharp but warm. "Plenty of ways to come to an end here, Galen. Hold together. We can't afford distractions," she said, her Force-sense brushing the air, a faint ripple I felt through my own connection, searching for threats amid the station's oppressive aura. Revan turned his masked face toward the corridor's end, his hands resting at his sides, ready to draw his saber, his voice pitched for all to hear but softer for those listening. "Stay wary, those Rakata's specters still may linger," he intoned, his voice a blend of parable and command. We drifted forward, the corridor's blackened walls warping our reflections, the air growing colder, laced with the acrid sting of scorched circuits. A faint whiff of ozone clung to my nostrils, I kept my hands near my sabers, their weight a comfort. Shepard checked his thrusters, fingers tensing on the controls, a dry smile breaking his focus. "If anything moves, aim for the ugly parts," he muttered, his voice dry, a familiar friendship in his voice.
The corridor opened into the observation deck, a cavernous chamber with a transparisteel dome revealing Archeon below, a water world scarred by blackened burns and glowing atmospheric wounds, its oceans a deep, shimmering blue-green, endless and cold under the station's orbit. The beauty stole my breath, cutting through the decay around us, scorched panels, floating debris from a long war. But it was what hung outside that stopped my heart. Tethered by a violet energy leash, pulsing like a living vein, loomed a massive structure, its curved arms stretching twenty kilometers, its gyroscopic ring spinning with a blue glow. Segmented extensions pulsed violet, and its core thrummed, a volatile heartbeat straining against the leash's dark sorcery. It was no Star Forge, no Sith relic, but the Thalassian's threshold shackled by Rakata hands. Shepard froze, his eyes widening, as his hands slackened, his voice choked by awe and dread. "That's a Mass Effect Relay, but not... Like the Citadel's heart, ripped open and corrupted, veins of element zero, those glyphs. And, hell, those aren't just wrecked dreadnoughts out there. That's a Reaper corpse and is that a Leviathan!?" Ahsoka's montrals twitched, her Force-sense brushing against a familiar hum of haunting psychic wails, faint but agonizing.
Before I could ask what Shepard knew, the structure flared. Its ring started to spin, a low hum swelling to a bone-rattling boom that vibrated through the station's frame. Blue energy surged, forming a corridor of mass-free space, violet arcs crackling along the leash, warping the dome's view into a surreal shimmer of Archeon's orbit. The station trembled, debris spiraling, and a static charge raised the hairs on my neck, the air thick with foreboding. Then Shepard's predicted ambush sprang like we had it scheduled. His data-pad flared, a shrill beep drowned by the station's red alert, crimson lights flashing, alarms shrieking a wail that tore through the silence. Shadows moved, and from the deck's edges, elite Covenant Zel'thar soldiers emerged, their obsidian fluid-like armor rippling, swallowing light. Featureless helmets gleamed, purple-blue energy auras pulsing, their pikes, blue energy fields, humming with lethal intent. Their energy surges hit like a fog, choking my Force-sense. My head throbbed, the disorientation a splinter in my skull, but I grinned, a feral edge to it. "That's more like it. Show me another nightmare," I said, my battle-voice shielding old pain with adrenaline. Shepard shouted a command, then flashed a half-grin at me. "On your six! First to ten doesn't pay for their next meal. Ahsoka, right flank!" his tone in control, the banter holding the group together.
My sabers ignited with a roar, their volatile kyber spitting arcs as I propelled forward, a Force push launching me through the weightless void. A Zel'thar confronted me, its pike slashing with a warp field that scorched the air. I parried with a fierce swing, the temperamental blade shuddering, sparks flaring as the clash rang like a struck gong. Driving my right saber downward, I cleaved through its shoulder, obsidian sludge spraying like spilled ink, a mist that hung in the air, glinting red under the alert lights. The soldier's scream was a distorted hiss, its body crumpling, floating limp as I kicked off its corpse, propelling toward another. Shepard surged beside me, energy surges flaring, a blue field that warped a Zel'thar's form, its fluid armor buckling, rippling like a tossed sea. His tech gauntlet ignited, a monomolecular edge slicing through the emptiness, and he drove it into the soldier's chest, the impact a wet crunch. His N7 armor's thrusters hummed, magnetic soles clicking against a floating panel before he launched again, his grace in the chaos. His kinetic lift hurled another Zel'thar upward, its body smashing against the dome, cracks spiderwebbing as it sank, lifeless. Ahsoka spun past, her white sabers igniting in a flash, deflecting a pike's thrust with a burst of light. The energy surges threw her off, her movements uneven, but she adapted, her agility a dance in the weightless expanse. She leaped, Force-guided, her blades severing a Zel'thar's throat, the body left floating free. Her montrals twitched, sensing what her Force-sense couldn't, and she pivoted, blocking another pike with a hiss of sparks.
Revan anchored us, his violet saber flaring to life, slicing through a soldier with a calculated strike. The energy surges clouded his senses like ours, but his experience held, his movements precise. He pushed off a wall, robes trailing, and struck, his saber carving a clean arc through a Zel'thar's abdomen, the armor splitting, fluid spraying in a slow arc, catching the red light like blood frozen in time. The fight was chaos, weightlessness a cruel master. I twisted mid-air, a Force pull yanking me toward a console, my boots grazing its edge as I launched again. A Zel'thar's pike grazed my ribs, the energy field searing flesh, a white-hot pain that fueled my rage. I roared, driving both sabers into its chest, the volatile energy erupting, shredding armor and bone in a shower of obsidian and crimson. The soldier's body spun away, colliding with a floating panel, the impact a dull thud. Shepard's charge sent another Zel'thar spiraling, his tech gauntlet a lethal extension, its edge gutting the soldier, innards spilling in a slow, grotesque drift. Ahsoka and Revan moved in sync, her white blades guarding his flank, his violet saber striking with surgical precision, their unity a blade against the tide. Shepard dodged debris, letting out a breathless, grim chuckle. "Guess the local hospitality's about what I expected. Still taking bets on how many we leave standing?" Ahsoka flashed him a quick grin through sweat and blood, her voice low. "Save it for after, Shepard."
The air reeked of ozone and scorched flesh, the red alert's pulse a drumbeat in my skull. A Zel'thar lunged, its pike aimed at my throat, but I caught its wrist with a Force grip, snapping bone with a crack that echoed. My saber followed, cleaving its head, the helmet splitting, obsidian sludge spraying like ink, hanging in the weightless expanse. Another charged Ahsoka, its energy surges flaring, but she spun, her sabers a whirlwind, slicing through its legs, the stumps floating as she pushed off, her breath steady despite the haze. Shepard's tech gauntlet flashed, eviscerating a soldier, its entrails drifting in a sickening cloud, while Revan's saber parried a pike, his counterstrike severing an arm, the limb spinning into the darkness. Then the structure surged, a violet pulse racing along the energy leash, a shockwave rattling the station. Debris spiraled faster, a coolant sphere bursting against the dome with a muted pop, and my ears rang, the Force trembling with a dark will. My eyes snapped to the third-story platform, a control hub, consoles crackling violet. A figure stood there, human, tall, his presence a menace in the Force. Ahsoka's eyes flashed as she spotted our target, her voice sharp with controlled fury. "There! Platform three, Varnis. He's not slipping away this time," she said. The fight paused, a fleeting reprieve as the last Zel'thar fell, its armor pooling in droplets. I glanced at the others, Revan's mask glowing with the Conduit's light, Ahsoka's steady eyes, Shepard's nod, his energy surges still swirling. A group forged of scars and hope, but we're in this, I thought, my sabers humming. Another wave of Zel'thar emerged, pikes glowing, obsidian armor shimmering, a tide bearing down. The hub loomed, Varnis watching, and the Conduit's hum grew louder, a doom's heartbeat.
Outside the viewport, Archeon loomed silently beneath them, its vast waters shimmering ominously as the Rakata Anchor waited, suspended in the cold embrace of space, holding secrets yet to unfold.
I drifted in weightless on the Rakata Anchor, my N7 armor's thrusters humming softly as I steadied myself against the disorienting pull of zero gravity. The air was sterile, sharp with the acrid sting of scorched circuits and ozone, clawing at my throat with every breath. Above, on the third platform, Revan, Ahsoka, and Galen propelled themselves upward with the Force, their movements fluid, almost spectral in the weightless expanse. Revan's rune-etched robes billowed, his masked presence a beacon of balance. Ahsoka's montrals twitched as she sensed the path ahead, her agility defying the lack of gravity. Galen's gaunt frame was taut, twin saber hilts in hand, his raw energy barely contained. The Relay outside, tethered by a violet energy leash, pulsed with an eerie blue element zero glow, its gyroscopic ring spinning faster, casting jagged light across the chamber. A pressure crashed into my skull, more piercing than a batarian's shank, and my vision blurred. The Rakata Anchor faded. I'm submerged, drowning in an inky ocean, the water dense, pressing against my skin like a sentient tide. Bioluminescent Leviathans loom around me, their massive, tentacled forms glowing with the pulse of ancient deities. Their presence is oppressive, a chorus of whispers clawing at my mind, more intense than the nudge I feel on Despoina. This isn't just a psychic echo; it's a tidal wave, vivid, inescapable. My heart pounds, but I hold steady, N7 training kicking in. I've faced them before, when I unearth their secrets among my own stars.
A single voice cuts through, deep and sorrowful, resonating with urgency, "Shepard, the Catalyst's influence consumed you prior to your arrival. We shield you for now, but its grasp strengthens as it approaches. It seeks you, and us, its creators, to complete their first cycle that began all other cycles." The words swim in my head, heavy with regret. I meet the Leviathan's glowing eyes, piercing through the murk, and I know them. "I know you," voice steady despite the chaos. "Leviathans. You created the Catalyst, birthed the Reapers. I found you on Despoina, freed your kind to fight with us during our last stand." The Leviathan's tone darkens, a gravitas that chills me, "You may free us, Shepard, but your choice of Synthesis dooms galaxies beyond our shared stars. The Catalyst twisted your will, unlocking the relays for its Reapers to hunt us across the stars." The ocean shifts, and I'm yanked back to the Crucible, standing before that glowing childlike form. The Catalyst's voice echoes—Destroy, Control, Synthesis—and I choose Synthesis, the green wave rippling across the galaxy, merging organic and synthetic life. Nightmares flood in, the ghostly child haunting my dreams, whispers of dread that cling to me through the Reaper War. Not just Reaper indoctrination, something subtler, older, more insidious. The Catalyst.
"How did I miss this?" I mutter, shock tightening my chest. The Leviathan's voice grows heavier, a lament spanning eons, "A billion years ago, we ruled the Milky Way, our psychic enthrallment binding lesser species as tools. Our hubris birthed the Catalyst, like you mentioned, to resolve the organic-synthetic conflict, but it turned on us, harvesting our kin to forge Harbinger, the first Reaper. Most perished, some hid, erasing our existence, as you find on Despoina. But a few, we Dominion Preservers, choose defiance." The vision swirls, showing a fortified aquatic world, Leviathans laboring under psychic barriers, thralls sacrificing themselves to shield them. A massive structure rises, a relay unlike any I've seen, its element zero core blazing with volatile power. "The Apex Conduit," the Leviathan intones, "an intergalactic relay to breach the intergalactic barrier. The Preservers sough new frontiers, or perhaps an escape, foreseeing our fall. As Reapers tore through us, a handful of us fled—dozens, with thralls and resources—through the Conduit. It imploded behind us, obliterating our trail. Those who went into hiding, the ones you freed, assumed our failure, burying this truth."
I see the ruins, Reapers scavenging the Conduit's remains, integrating its tech into their relays and the Citadel. "The Reapers couldn't replicate it," the Leviathan continues, bitter. "Their relays never able to traverse beyond the Milky Way, dark space their limit. But the Catalyst never forgot our escape. It seeded the Crucible's design across cycles, embedding its own tech—element zero conduits, neural matrices—to reconfigure its purpose. Your Synthesis decision, its final requirement, Shepard. Unlocking intergalactic travel with the Catalyst's secret weapon, your Crucible." The vision shifts to relay pulses, energy surges beyond standard parameters, Reaper ships vanishing into the void. My stomach twists, post-war reports, buried in Alliance archives, mentioned those anomalies. I thought it was only a part of the noise of war. "You were indoctrinated," the Leviathan says, with resounding clarity. "Not by Reapers' brute force, but the Catalyst's whispers, your nightmares, that ghostly child. It nudged you to Synthesis, framing it as salvation. You give the Reapers the keys to stars far beyond their reach, and they pursue us, now, the Thalassians you seek to stop."
Archeon fills my vision, its oceans scarred, debris choking its orbits. Thalassian's, the Leviathans from my galaxy, battled Reapers, their psychic prowess clashing with mechanical menace. "The Preservers reached the Skyriver galaxy," the Leviathan explains, "but clashed with the Rakata, masters of dark sorcery. They imprisoned our kin in ice moons, sealing them in hibernation. Our Veiled Covenant works to free them now, their wails echoing through this galaxy's Force. Archeon is our refuge and home in this galaxy, a warzone against Reapers trickling through the Crucible's unstable rift." I clench my fists, guilt clawing at me. "What's Varnis doing?" I demand, voice raw. The Leviathan's eyes narrow, urgent. "The Intratrek Relay connects to the Crucible, forging a stable bridge to the Milky Way. It rallies our remaining Thalassians in this galaxy to Archeon, reversing the Reaper tide once and for all. We must return, Shepard, to crush the Catalyst and its Reapers, end our billion-year exile. Varnis' task is our path home, to reclaim our galaxy and yours. Join us, or we'll all fall to the Catalyst's harvest with this galaxy it's next victim."
My mind races, piecing it together. Despoina's Leviathans were arrogant, desperate, but these are defiant, mirroring my own fight. "How do we stop this?" my pragmatism cutting through. "How do we get home to end the Reaper cycles once and for all?" The Leviathan's voice softens, resolute, "Let Varnis succeed. With our Thalassian brethren, we'll turn the tide. You must lead, Shepard, as you did before." Miranda's face flashes, her hologram before London, eyes fierce pleading for me to come back. That moment, her hand reaching through the holo, grounds me. Her strength when Cerberus turned on us. "I'm in," I say, voice firm. "We'll get back, end this, together." The Leviathan's glow pulses, a silent vow. The vision shattered, and I snapped back to the Rakata Anchor, the weightlessness hitting like a punch. My breath was ragged, the sterile air clawing my lungs. The third platform had erupted into chaos. Revan's violet saber carved precise arcs through a Zel'thar's pike thrust, his masked presence steady, voice cutting through, "Forward, we must stop them." Ahsoka's white sabers spun a defensive whirlwind, montrals twitching as she sensed threats, her tone urgent, "It's critical we stop them here, for the galaxy!" Galen's twin white-blue sabers slashed with controlled ferocity, deflecting another incoming Zel'thar attack. Varnis stood at the controls, his shapeshifting form flickering from human to Zel'thar, the conduit's blue glow brighter, its hum a doom's heartbeat. He taunted Ahsoka, his voice dripping with cult-like zeal, "Tano, letting your Jedi light let me slip through your hands will be your undoing, our masters will rule this galaxy!" The words carried the fanaticism recognizing her as a real threat to his Thalassian masters. Zel'thar elites swarmed, their obsidian fluid armor rippling, pikes burning the air with blue warp fields. Sparks showered from clashing sabers, glinting like dying stars in the weightless void. I exhaled, steadying myself, the vision's weight pressing on me. My omni-tool flickered, but my instincts screamed to act. The team's goal, stopping Varnis, clashed with the Leviathans' plan, but I kept that secret close, trusting our unity to find a way. Miranda's plea echoed, "Come back to me." I saw her strength, her smile, and it centered me. I engaged my N7 armor's thrusters, the hum vibrating through my bones as I propelled toward the platform, ready to join the fight. "Time to rewrite fate again," I muttered, voice firm and reborn with purpose.
Vision resolved, the psychic tumult receding, leaving solemn clarity, a soldier prepared to defy fate once more, gaze fixed on the impossible horizon ahead.
The cortosis platform thrummed with a pulse older than empires, its glyphs flickering violet as if the Rakata Anchor bore witness to a reckoning long foretold. My violet saber burned steady, its hum a solemn vow amidst the chaos of Zel'thar pikes slashing through the weightless expanse. The air was sterile, a bitter reminder of battles past. Sparks flared from clashing blades, glinting red under pulsing alerts, while debris, shattered consoles, coolant spheres, mangled droid limbs, drifted in silent collision, a testament to war's relentless toll. Beyond the transparisteel dome, Archeon's oceans shimmered, scarred by blackened wounds, the alien structure's green core straining against its violet Rakata leash, a relic of ancient hubris yearning to break free. A Zel'thar lunged, its obsidian armor rippling, pike blazing with a blue warp field that seared the air. I maneuvered weightlessly, the Force guiding my trajectory, my blade carving through its chest with surgical precision. Obsidian ichor misted, shimmering like ink, suspended in droplets that caught the crimson light. Another advanced, and I propelled myself from a console, my rune-etched robes trailing, severing its artery with a calculated strike, the body drifting free. My gaze fixed on the control hub, where Varnis stood, his form flickering between human and Zel'thar, hands poised over a console aglow with warning glyphs. The station's design, a Rakata echo of the Star Forge, whispered of traps and power. Vigilance was paramount.
Shepard's thrusters flared, a burst of blue as he entered the fray, the glint of his N7 armor catching the light, tech gauntlet igniting with a monomolecular edge. He cleaved through a Zel'thar, its armor crumpling, ichor spraying in a slow arc. I steadied my focus, the Force steadying through the psychic haze, and spoke, my voice calm yet warm with our shared bond. "You're late, Shepard. I'd almost forgotten what chaos looks like without you." He parried a pike, his kinetic energy rippling the air, and replied, "Had to tie up some loose ends." His tone carried his usual wry edge, but a shadow lingered, a discord in the Force I could not place. Ahsoka surged forward, her white sabers igniting in twin arcs, a dance of light in the weightless dark. Her gray balance shone, unbound by Jedi dogma, precise yet fierce, her Ataru spins defying the chaos as she carved toward Varnis. Her montrals twitched, sensing threats through the haze where the Force failed, her blades deflecting a pike with a hiss of sparks, obsidian sludge floating free. "Varnis!" she called, her voice sharp with resolve. "You're not slipping away this time."
The Zel'thar swarmed Shepard, their pikes flashing, mistaking him for the greater threat. He wove through them, thrusters erratic, his kinetic charge tearing through armor with a crumpling roar. That orange blade of his struck, a wet crunch as he gutted another, blood pooling in droplets that shimmered under the blinking red lights. Galen fought at our flank, his twin white-blue sabers a storm, carving through stragglers with feral precision, deflecting shots meant for Ahsoka, his raw energy a silent pillar. I drifted to Ahsoka's side, my saber guarding her back, the Force steadying my arc. Together, we pressed Varnis, his pike weaving desperate arcs, each clash a shower of sparks that hung like fading stars. His eyes gleamed, featureless yet sharp, his voice a venomous hiss as he parried her strike. "Tano, your mercy has sealed your doom." The taunt struck deep, recalling her choice to let him flee to save her padawans, a wound now fueling her fire. Shepard fought closer, his thrusters a roaring blur, blue light flaring as he hurled a Zel'thar against the dome, cracks spiderwebbing across the transparisteel. Varnis' gaze snapped to him, panic fracturing his zeal. His defense wavered, pike trembling, and in a desperate surge, he broke from Ahsoka's assault, lunging weightlessly toward a lever jutting from the hub's edge. His clawed hand slammed it down, a metallic clang echoing as the console flared, glyphs pulsing violet. A single "Release" button began flashing, its red light a heartbeat in the chaos, the leash's locks disengaging with a low, ominous hum.
Ahsoka's saber struck true, a white blade slicing from Varnis' jaw to temple, swift and brutal. His head split, cauterized flesh hissing, body lolling in a weightless dance, spinning limp, a testament to her resolve, the lever's echo a grim herald of his failure. The Zel'thar faltered, their psychic haze wavering, and the platform trembled, the Relay's hum spiking into a bone-rattling roar. A necessary end, I thought, to avert a greater calamity. Such is the cost of victory. Shepard's thrusters roared, a sudden burst as he leaped over our line, landing near the console with a metallic clang. His hand slammed the flashing button, and the Thalassian structure erupted, violet arcs lashing like chained lightning, its roar deafening, shaking the station's frame. The Rakata leash snapped free, its violet energy dissolving, the green core pulsing wildly. A chill ran through me, the Force rippling with discord. Betrayal, sharp and sudden, Malak's cannons firing on my ship, his treachery leaving me for dead amidst the Jedi's ambush. Another ally turned, another wound to bear. Yet, I steadied myself, emotions must not cloud judgment. "Shepard, what have you done?" I demanded, my voice measured but laced with pain, drifting toward him.
Ahsoka's montrals twitched, her sabers still lit, her stare sharp with disbelief. Galen drifted closer, his sabers humming, face shocked with betrayal. Shepard faced us, the glint of his N7 armor catching the warning lights, his gaze unwavering, voice rough with unyielding truth. "I have to get back, Revan. To my home, to the one I love the most. I fucked up my galaxy, the Catalyst used me to settle an ancient score, unleashing its cycles onto your galaxy. I cannot allow that to happen… It was an honor, mask man, Herald." A faint smirk flickered, a soldier's final farewell, one I knew that told I'd never see him again. His helmet sealed over his face with a hiss, a barrier as he drifted toward the airlock. Galen surged forward, his twin sabers hissing shut as he pushed off a console, boots scraping cortosis, his weightless drift a desperate lunge toward the airlock. "Shepard, wait!" he called, voice raw, a friend's plea swallowed by the hum of the sealing door. Shepard stepped through, the inner hatch hissing shut, a metallic clang echoing in the sterile air.
We moved to the observation deck's panoramic dome, each drift a measured effort in the weightless expanse, the Force steadying our path. The cortosis walls pulsed faintly, glyphs flickering violet, framing Archeon's scarred oceans below. The outer airlock seal parted, a slow hiss as Shepard's silhouette stood against the planet's glow, his N7 armor flaring before his kinetic light flared blue, warping the air. He unleashed a push off the anchor's hull, then a massive pull, flinging himself toward the Relay's pulsing green core, a comet trailing sapphire against the stars. My masked gaze lingered, a tremor in the Force betraying my resolve. Ahsoka's montrals quivered, sensing the absence Shepard left. Galen muttered under his breath, "Stubborn bastard," his eyes fixed on the dome, loyalty warring with loss. A scream tore through the Force as Shepard flew toward the Thalassian structure, more piercing than Malachor's fall or past wails, countless lives snuffed in an instant as the remaining Thalassians tore through the galaxy. My focus wavered, the psychic wail a chorus of agony, Ahsoka clutching her sabers with a sharp intake of breath, Galen growling through gritted teeth. Beyond the dome, surviving vessels, hulking forms Shepard named Leviathans, unleashed torrents of psychic energy, akin to a Sith Lord's wrath yet alien outside the Force, their tentacle-like limbs coiling around the dark machines he called Reapers. Crimson cores shattered in bursts of molten debris, raining over Archeon like dying stars, a clash humbling even my ancient perspective.
Shepard reached the Relay's event horizon, a blinding flash exploding into our vision, engulfing him and most of the Thalassians, their psychic presence fading like a dying star. The remaining Thalassians pressed their assault, psychic barriers flaring against Shepard's Reapers' synthetic forms, their scarred hulls victorious as the last crimson core burst, debris glittering across Archeon's glowing oceans. The Relay pulsed erratically, its hum faltering, a dying heartbeat, its leash drifting wildly in space, unresponsive to the console's controls. "We've stumbled upon an ancient war," I turned, my voice solemn, a leader's resolve. "If we tether the leash again, we can close this bridge, stop this chaos." Galen stepped toward the airlock without a word, grabbing a space suit from the rack. He pulled the suit on, its fabric rustling, his gaunt frame taut with purpose. I drifted closer, my tone firm, a friend's plea. "Galen, the Shades need you here, I need you here, this is madness." Ahsoka's voice cut in, firm but warm. "Galen, we can find another way, we don't know what will happen if you go out there!" Galen grinned, a feral edge to it, his eyes glinting with defiance. "Relax, Herald, Jedi. Shepard's not the only one who gets to play hero." He stepped toward the airlock, the hum growing louder, the Relay's flickering light casting shadows across his face. "Plus, the Force won't let me die, it's some sick joke that won't let up."
Resolve anchored firmly in defiance of the vacuum ahead, the harsh expanse around indifferent, determination a lone beacon against the cold silence of space.
The sterile air bit my lungs, sharp with plasma ozone and scorched circuits, a taste that clung like the memory of Nar Shaddaa's blood-soaked alleys. My twin saber hilts hung heavy at my hips, their volatile kyber silent but ready, a promise of chaos I'd wield one more time. I turned, my gaze meeting Revan's masked face, its Mandalorian runes catching the fractured light like a predator's stare. His presence was a beacon in the Force, steady despite the psychic wail that had torn through us moments ago, a scream of countless lives snuffed out as Shepard vanished into the Relay's glow. Ahsoka's montrals twitched, her white sabers unlit but poised, her eyes sharp with a mix of resolve and fear, not for herself, but for me. The Force hummed between us, a thin thread of trust forged in this search for an unknown threat, now fraying under the weight of what I was about to do. Ahsoka's lips tightened, her Force-sense brushing against me, searching for a crack in my resolve. She found none. Revan's mask tilted, unreadable, but the Force betrayed a tremor of loss. I held their gazes a heartbeat longer, my smirk softening, a farewell I couldn't voice. Then I stepped backward, my boot crossing the airlock's threshold, the hatch hissing shut with a metallic clang that echoed like a tomb sealing. Darkness swallowed me, the red alerts fading to a dim glow, and I was alone with the hum of the station's frame and the weight of my choice.
The outer hatch loomed, a barrier between me and the black sea. My gloved hand hovered over the control panel, the suit's HUD flickering with warnings: low oxygen, structural instability, energy surges. I ignored them. The Force surged within me, a tide of light and dark. I closed my eyes, and the hatch parted with a slow hiss, the vacuum of space yawning before me, a black expanse pricked by Archeon's shimmering oceans and the Conduit's pulsing core. My HUD screamed, pressure warnings flashing red, but I didn't care. I planted my boots against the airlock's frame, the Force coiling in my chest like a spring. With a roar, I pushed, the Force launching me outward in a weightless arc, a comet trailing defiance against the stars. The station's hull rushed past, cortosis panels scarred by war, glyphs flickering violet as if whispering of Rakata treachery. My suit's thrusters flared, stabilizing my trajectory, the hum vibrating through my bones as I soared toward the leash's anchor point, a massive pylon jutting from the hull like a spear thrust into empty vacuum.
The Relay Conduit loomed, its twenty-kilometer arms curving like a cosmic beast, its gyroscopic ring spinning with a blue glow, violet arcs crackling along the Rakata leash. The leash itself was a marvel and a curse, a violet energy tether pulsing like a living vein, its dark sorcery draining the Conduit's core, locking its traversal function. Beyond, Archeon's atmosphere burned with glowing wounds, debris from the Thalassian-Reaper war glittering like dying stars. The psychic wail lingered in my skull, a chorus of agony from the Thalassians' escape from imprisonment, their tentacle-like limbs coiling around Reaper husks in a clash that humbled even my battles. I collided with the pylon, my gloved hands gripping its edge, the impact jarring my shoulders. The suit's magnetic soles clicked, anchoring me to the hull, the station's hum a low thrum through my boots. The leash pulsed above, its violet energy searing empty space. I steadied my breath, the HUD's oxygen gauge ticking down, the Force flooding through me. Juno's face flashed, her eyes, fierce and soft, her voice whispering before Fett's blaster took her on Kashyyyk. Sera's laughter echoed, a dream of my daughter, her eyes, Juno's eyes, sparkling under emerald leaves. The pain was a blade, but I wielded it, letting it sharpen my focus.
My eyes lit ablaze, a white-blue kyber glow flaring, the Force roaring through me. I raised my arms, palms open, and gripped the leash with the Force, its sheer weight a monumental burden. The energy resisted, a dark will woven by Rakata sorcery, straining against my mind like Vader's chokehold on Kamino. My muscles burned, the suit's servos whining, but I held fast. The leash shuddered, responding to my will, bending like a straw in my grasp. I let out a jarring scream, the sound lost to the vacuum, and slammed it back against the Conduit's core, the pylon trembling under my boots. The Rakata leash snapped into place, a violet flare erupting, a massive wave of energy rippling across the horizon. The siphon took hold, its dark sorcery surging, draining the Conduit's green core with a howl that vibrated through the station's hull. The Conduit's energy shattered, a pulsar's burst of blue and violet light, arcs lashing out like chained lightning. The station held, its cortosis walls shielding those inside, Revan, Ahsoka, but I was outside, exposed to the expulsion.
I clung to the pylon, my HUD screaming, oxygen critical, suit integrity failing. The energy displacement roared, a tide of light and dark that vaporized the remaining Thalassians and Reapers, their massive forms dissolving into molten debris, raining over Archeon's oceans like a funeral pyre. The psychic wail faded, a final gasp of agony, and the Conduit's hum faltered, its ring slowing, a dying heartbeat. I watched it unfold, the void ablaze with the cost of my choice, and smiled, a wry twist of my lips. "Well, I guess the joke's finally up," I muttered, my voice muffled by the suit, a farewell to the Force's cruel humor. Then, a jolt, a ripple in the Force, sharp and unyielding, like a hand yanking me from the edge. The blackness swallowed everything, a sudden cut, silent and absolute.