How could it have gone to this?

You hadn't seen her since she was M.I.A during the war. The same with her squad. Some said she was captured, others believed she didn't survive.

You, however, didn't believe the latter. You kept on to the hope that she was alive. After all, how could someone of her caliber have such an abrupt ending? You two knew each other and some would say you two were great friends. Others, would say you're a dynamic duo. But, they didn't know that your relationship bordered on something that the Jedi would be uncomfortable with. You remembered her smile, your sparring matches, and the way she commanded the battlefield. You refused to believe it ended there.

Powered by spite and hope, you and small group ventured to where she was last seen and investigated the area. Which lead you to Korriban, the home world of the Sith. You felt dread pooling in your gut. You and your team went on some wild goose chase and it eventually, finally lead you to sneaking onthe Star Forge. Anticipation and something close to guilt filled you.

The longer you ventured into the space station, the more the feeling of wrongness grew. The bridge of the Star Forge stretches before you like a cathedral of steel and dark light. Endless black void stretches beyond the viewport, dotted with the cold glimmer of distant stars. Sparks rain from damaged consoles, the hum of malfunctioning machinery echoing like a heartbeat—or a warning.

But the figure standing in your room almost made your heart stop. It was her, Bastilla. But not her at the same time.

You noticed what she wore, her red and gold robes replaced with something darker. Her formerly green eyes that were filled with warmth, goodness, and compassion, were now a red rimmed yellow. Filled with a false sense of rage, hatred, guilt, and trauma.

You couldn't speak. But she did: You shouldn’t have come,” she said, each word laced with controlled fury. “I’m… not the person you think you knew. You don’t understand what it took to survive… what I’ve become.”

She stepped closer, her posture rigid, every movement deliberate and precise, as if measuring your reaction: “I’ve done things… terrible things. And for what? For them? For the Jedi? For you?”

You tried to talk her out of this. You felt the good that still lurks within her. She just needs an anchor! Her words still echo in your mind as she ignites her lightsaber—its crimson blade a sharp contrast to her formerly golden one. The air hums with the dark side, bending around her like a living thing.

“I warned you,” Bastilla says, voice low but deadly, her stance fluid and lethal. “I won’t be restrained… not by you, not by anyone.”

You force yourself to get into a fighting stance.

You know your mission. Bring her back to the light.