Tysyacha felt a faint stirring in three places: her mind, her heart, and a private one, physically felt and yet known in the soul. How long had it been since such strong words, such a promise of power and protection, had truly moved her? Certainly not since Atton--strange, since she had not felt "the fool" in the Force lately--but this, this was much more than a wisecracking pazaak player could ever say, Force or no.
She heard a sigh and felt a warm, heightening glow. Reveal me, apprentice. Now.
Reluctantly, but only halfway so, Tysyacha reached into a fold of her long robe and brought out the holocron of Traya, a cube infused with saving darkness. "Yes?" This was it--the moment of either damnation or acceptance, fragmentation or forgiveness.
"What do you wish me to do, Traya?" One second beat by, then two, three, four...
"Who are you?" asked the Lady of Betrayal finally. "By what name are you known?"
A slow smile spread across the Exile's lovely face, shadowed red in the light from the holocron. "You already know," she said to Traya's presence in the cube, "and as for her, the Light of the Galaxy, she will meet her end at the hands of Miss Odnova. There is only one who could stop me now, who could turn me back from this duty, and he is not here. He alone knows who I was then, and who I still could be. Alas, he has chosen to wander hidden from the eyes of man and droid, so I am Odnova, still."
She closed her hand around the holocron of Traya and turned to the crew. "Bastila doesn't know what's coming," she hissed, "or whom. We shall turn her back from the dream of turning the galaxy into a formless white void, all of us, but it is I who shall strike the final blow, if it comes to that. Agreed?" Tysy ignited her silver sabers.