This is more like a Short Fic but it will be set into three parts. Here's the first part.
Part One: Beginnings
The smell of burnt flesh hung in the air. He tasted it on the tip of his tongue. He cringed, but not in disgust. It was the cringe of how he admired the smell, of how deranged and twisted he had truly become.
It almost made him laugh out loud.
The Exile, Jonas, made his way down the halls of Malachor V. After destroying his Master, the Jedi Witch, Darth Traya: Or Kreia, as she had become to be known as to him, he made his way back through the halls desecrating it of its taint. The dark side would always be strong here, and he would make sure to keep it that way. This new, stealthiness-and--only-striking-from-the-shadows disgusted him so he made sure he cut down every remaining figure of that pathetic religion.
A Sith Apprentice jumped out from behind a corner and brandished his lightsaber. The Exile almost smiled before he snarled and completely broke into his enemy’s spirit and used the Force to crush it into oblivion. He sent the mind of this pathetic ‘Sith’ into the plane of nothingness. Where there was nothing. Where he would be nothing. And even Nothing itself, was nothing. That is how much he hated this place and its occupants. He wanted to curse them all into this nothingness. To feel what it was like to be lost from the Force. But for them, there would be no coming back, no reconnection, no rebirth; not like what it was for The Exile himself.
The lifeless body fell to the ground and sunk into the floor, disintegrating into ask, then getting blown away by some lifeless wind.
Continuing his walk down the halls, the Exile couldn’t help but think about how he had arrived at this point in his life. About the decisions he had made, and what decisions he would have to make in the future.
He would go after Revan, this was a given. When, however, he did not know. There was so much that was still left to be done before he went gallivanting throughout the Unknown Regions. He thought of his companions.
Atton. He would want to go with him. But he would not let him. He needed Atton to help Visas train the Force Sensitives that Vaklu had promised him for helping with the Onderon War Effort. He would use them to cleanse the galaxy of Sith and Jedi alike. He would build a new society of Force Users.
It would be a society where there were no restrictions to which side you were on. They would learn to use both the Dark and Light sides of the Force.
The very thought of her made the Exile sigh: Half in relief and half in annoyance. She was so devoted to him, so in love, and yet … he got the feeling that she also despised him. He loved her it was true. The Exile and Visas shared something that none of the others could ever understand. But after what he had become, no matter how sure he could think of himself to be that his actions were for right, there were some times where he could barely look himself
in the eye. How could he be with anyone when he didn’t even like himself? How could anyone love such a monster?
Another Sith jumped out, and another Sith died.
It was tiring work, but work that needed to be done.
‘Stay here, with me,’
He heard these words before. Before he left for Telos to confront that fallen Jedi, Atris. Visas had told him everything that she felt for him there and then. It was surprising. She was such a strong spirit but she was fragile in so many ways. Many thoughts drifted in and out of his during that conversation.
‘I want to see what the Handmaiden sees,’
That made him cringe somewhat. And it also confused him. The last time before that conversation where he had talked with the Handmaiden she had said to him, “Leave me alone. There is nothing for us to discuss,”
It was a threat. That he knew, and he also knew that he could have killed her right then, but he decided against it. She would be useful in the future, that he knew, but what he didn’t know was how useful she would actually be.
He wondered what would have happened if he had killed her. Something that could not have happened no doubt. No use worrying about what could have happened, that was a fool’s dream.
‘Stay here, with me,’
He sighed as he lunged one of the blades of his saber-staff into the abdomen of an oncoming Sith. He brought it upwards and through the body until it erupted from the Sith skull as easily as if he were singing a song.
The exile made his way to the training room. When he opened up the door, he saw three heads turn his way. Smiling, he threw his lightsaber in their direction. The three of them dodged and one came running at Jonas. Rolling to the side, Jonas unleashed a fork of lightning towards the leader of the group. The leader blocked it with his lightsaber but Jonas directed his saber-staff and it sliced the Sith Lord horizontally. The two lots of flesh fell to the ground with a soft ‘thump’.
The two others came at him in unison and blocking one strike to his right, Jonas swept a kick and knocked the Sith to his left, off her feet. He conjured a Force push and sent the Sith on his right slamming into the wall, shattering his spine. Jonas looked back to the Sith woman on the floor and before she could say anything, he made his stroke. Cutting any breath she had left out of her.
He thought to himself as he looked at the surrounding bodies….