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When the dark man of her dreams was captured, Serra was given yet another chance to turn away from the abyss. She could have turned him over to the authorities. Instead she chose to imprison and torture him.

By this point she had sunk so far into the pit of darkness that even Lucia had sensed her corruption. Her friend had tried to warn her. She had recognized what Serra was turning into. But now Lucia was dead, as well.

Anger, revenge, deception, cruelty, hate: these were the ways of the dark side. Ever since Gerran’s death Serra had allowed them to dominate her life, drawing her farther and farther down the path. And it was only now, cowering alone in the corner of a hut in the middle of the desert, that she understood the true price.

The dark side destroys. It can’t bring peace or closure; it only brings misery and death.

Caleb had understood this. He had tried to teach her. But she had failed him, and it had cost her everything.

“I’m sorry, Father,” she whispered, reaching up to wipe a tear from her eye. “Now I understand.”

What was done could not be undone. She would have to live with the burden of her crimes. But going forward she would not allow herself to be seduced by the dark side again. Whatever fate awaited her, whatever consequence or punishment befell her, she would accept it with stoic calm and quiet strength.

I am still my father’s daughter.

Bane was well aware how close he had come to dying at Zannah’s hand in the Stone Prison. Yet he was still alive, proof of his enduring strength and power. He had gone in a prisoner, but he had emerged more powerful than when he had entered. Andeddu’s Holocron may have been lost, most likely buried forever in the dungeon’s collapse, but he had already claimed its most precious knowledge: the secret of essence transfer. And though his apprentice was still alive, he might just have found her replacement.

He studied the Iktotchi carefully as she worked the shuttle’s controls, making subtle adjustments to keep them on course as they left the calm vacuum of space and descended into the turbulence of Ambria’s atmosphere.

She had told him her name was the Huntress, and that she had spent the past five years as a freelance assassin, honing her ability to identify and exploit weakness in her targets. It was hard to argue with the results; in her brief encounters with Bane she had already demonstrated both notable ambition and incredible potential. Her achievements were even more impressive when one considered that she had never been given any formal training in the ways of the Force. Everything she did came from natural ability. Pure instinct. Raw power.

Her ability to disrupt the Force in others only gave further testament to her strength. She had never been trained in this rare and difficult technique; she simply unleashed it against her enemies through sheer force of will: crude but effective.

However, it was her other talent that truly intrigued the Dark Lord.

“How did you track me to Ciutric?” he asked as the shuttle dropped down toward the planet’s desert surface.

“My visions,” the Huntress explained. “If I concentrate, they allow me to see images: people, places. Sometimes I catch glimpses of the future, though they do not always come true.”

“The future is never static,” Bane told her. “It is constantly shaped by the Force … and those with the power to control the Force.”

“Sometimes I also see visions of the past. Memories of what was. I saw you here on Ambria. With a young blond woman.”

“My apprentice.”

“She still lives?”

“For now.”

On the horizon they could see the first light of Ambria’s sun stretching out toward them. As the bright yellow beams fell across the nose of the shuttle, Bane couldn’t help but wonder how far the Iktotchi’s abilities could extend if she was given proper instruction and guidance.

He had the wisdom to interpret events and foresee their most likely outcome, but he rarely experienced true visions of the future. He was able to