You enter one of the dozens of sparring chambers within the Shadow Academy of Lyspair, the simple square room utilized mostly by those learning the ways of the lightsaber. This five hundred square-foot room, rectangular in shape, is nearly barren. The floor is lined with simple padding, while the walls are made of dull, grey durasteel, gauged by innumerable lightsaber strikes, scarring the metal permanently.

The ceiling towers above you, nearly twenty feet in height, allowing for plenty of movement from the more acrobatic of Force users. There are no other adornments within the room, save for the entrance and lighting that bathes the entire room, yet seems to come from nowhere. All corners of the room are perfectly lit, with no visible shadows to speak of. There is nowhere for you to hide within the room, but… there's no room for your opponent to hide either.

The chamber, though bathed in light, held a darkness all its own. With each dark slashe carved into the expansive surface of the walls, the violence that occurred within left its mark. Silence filled the expansive space encompassing Anima as he stood utterly still at its center. His neck craned as he leaned his head back, the Human's nostrils flared as air rushed to fill his lungs. Memories clawed at the edges of his mind, fighting to break into his core moments before they washed away as Anima exhaled long and hard.

He took several long strides, each step echoing sharply before fading into the cold silence. Reaching out, his fingers found one of the many grooves before his pale flesh traced the lines. Anima felt calm and uneasy all at once, the conflicting emotions battling for control. In that room, full of singular purpose, the Battlemaster felt at home.

He felt ready for war.

With an almost self-important hiss, the only entryway to the sparring chamber snapped open. Locke Sonjie marched in without hesitation, his eyes locked on Anima's cloaked form. The expression he wore was blank and refused to betray his intentions. This was a man on a mission.

"Figured I'd find you here, Atra." Locke declared calmly as his arms folded across his chest.

"My name," the Battlemaster turned his head just enough to fix Locke within the corner of his vision before continuing, "is Anima."

Sonjie sighed, barely at an audible level, as he shifted his weight to one side. "I've known you too long for a change of outfit and disregard towards grooming to fool me, Atra."

Anima's head lowered ever so slightly, a nearly imperceptible nod of appreciation towards his old friend and one-time ally. Turning about completely, he met Locke's gaze before taking several steps towards the Consul of Naga Sadow.

"That man is dead," Anima stated flatly.

"Is he now?" Locke muttered as his eyes searched the other man's face.

The Battlemaster said nothing, beginning to walk towards the exit. Locke made no movement to block him, his left hand rising to rest against his chin as the Krath focused on his own thoughts. Anima was almost completely past the other man before the Consul's voice brought him to a halt.

"Prove it."

Anima's head snapped around to lock his gaze upon Sonjie, his eyebrow raised in confusion. Locke turned slowly, making sure that he was mentally prepared before meeting the single, visible eye of the other man. When he did, there was no semblance of warmth left. The Consul had become cold, distancing himself mentally from the emotions that might cloud his perceptions.

"You say my friend is dead, yet you keep part of him at your side," Locke's pointed with a nod toward Anima's lightsaber. "Curious, don't you think?"

Amber light sprang to life between the pair with an angry hiss as Dreadbane, the Consul's saber, sprang to life. Anima stepped back out of both habit and reflex, his right hand swinging free from his cloak and summoning his saber to his grip with a quick tug of the Force. The Battlemaster thumbed the activation switch and growled faintly as his face was bathed in cerulean light.

"Just like his Vestigium you hold, there are things that simply cannot be changed." Locke allowed himself a smirk behind the glow of his blade before allowing his weapon hand to fall comfortably to his side. The Consul began sidestepping in a slow circle, watching carefully as Anima mirrored him in the opposite direction.

"Do you seek death?" Anima's calm voice remained even as he reached up with his left hand and pulled the cloth wrap away from his eye.

Locke had approached him with nothing less than respect, a surprising trait but one that belied the ease with which he lead. Fear can only gain so many followers, and weak ones at that. This Consul led through unity, and it showed in his actions. Even as he held a weapon against one of his own, there was still something unmistakably compelling about him. For that, Anima did him the honor of removing his own self-imposed handicap.

The Force filled the room, twin explosions of power as both men tapped their reserves and allowed the power therein to course through their bodies like liquid fire. Anima made the first move, a blur of motion as he brought his blade high in a flourish that ended with a hard downward slash. Locke moved just as quickly, if not more so, slapping the attack away with his own blade.

The Consul wasted no time, enacting a carefully choreographed counter attack meant to sever Anima's wrist. There was no way for Anima to avoid the strike in time so he instead followed through with the momentum of his initial attack. Crashing his shoulder against his opponent, Anima forcefully expelled his pent up Force energy and hammered it against Locke.

A grunt escaped the man's lips as Locke was forced back from the sheer strength of the impact. Stumbling for a moment, the Consul quickly regained his footing and fixed an empty stare upon Anima. The Battlemaster met Locke's eyes and couldn't help but grin with a quick flash of his teeth. The promise of that void that looked back at him with utter focus and intent was enough to make any bloodthirsty warrior fill with glee.

Anima lived for fights like this.

The sparring chamber echoed with the sound of clashing lightsabers as the two men did battle. Sparks fell and died against the plain surfaces of the room as their weapons connected again and again. Mind devoid of emotion, Locke danced smoothly around the chamber. He defended himself from Atra's strikes, parrying most and avoiding what he could not block.

He would not think of this man as Anima - not until the Sith had proven he had truly changed enough to warrant the new name. Locke had known him as Atra for too long to accept otherwise. He could call himself what he wished, but that would not change what Locke thought of him. He did look different, but looks were not what truly mattered.

I have changed too, old friend.

The thought skirted the edge of his mind, a fleeting whisper that evaporated after moments. Atra attacked again, blade flashing up in a vector that would intersect Locke's abdomen. Locke backed up and side-stepped, moving out of the way. His weapon switched hands and he swept it toward the Sith's legs.

Locke's weapon crackled through the air beneath Atra's feet as the Sith backflipped out of the way. He landed and paused for a moment, seeming to assess the situation. Atra tossed his lightsaber from hand to hand as if thinking. Then he came at Locke again.

The first strike began high and cleaved down like a falling durasteel flagpole. Locke stepped to the left, angling his lightsaber to deflect it just far enough to avoid his body. Atra flowed with that momentum, spinning counter-clockwise. He attacked again as he came around, lightsaber striking like a spear. Locke dodged once more, rather than attempting to block such a forceful attack. He circled to Atra's back, relying on the Sith's momentum to prevent him from following too quickly. Locke's lightsaber was already in motion as he circled, sunfire blade streaking toward his opponent's back, seeking his armpit.

A twinge in the Force was all the warning Locke had that something had changed. Atra came about far more quickly than he had previously, stepping out of the way of Locke's strike, even as the Sith prepared his own attack. Locke turned to counter it, sidestepping again. This time, Atra's blade struck at a slightly different vector. The two weapons slid against each other, crackling as Locke struggled to hold his defense. He focused the currents of the Force flowing along his veins, reinforcing muscles that strained under the Sith's strength.

Atra's lips twinged in a smile, then a snarl as he growled and pushed more strongly. Locke gritted his teeth and gripped his weapon with both hands, shocked at the sudden fury in Atra's expression. Even before, when Locke had taunted him, the Sith had not seemed so angry. His eyes had changed somehow. Instead of the cool-headed, calculating warrior, Locke saw something savage in them.

Outside the void, at the edge of his mind, that look terrified him, but Locke would not allow that to affect him in this fight. He channeled more of the Force into his hands. They glowed to his vision, pulsing with life. The glow itself seemed alive as the Force throbbed in his arm muscles like some restless creature.

Then Locke released it. Or rather, he pushed it out. The room brightened even more for a moment, blinding light filling it. By the will of the Force, that light circled around Locke's eyes and did not affect them, but Atra spun away, disoriented.

Locke retreated, lightsaber ready, studying the other man. The old Atra might have ignored the light, or turned his spin into a new strike, but this man did not. He blinked and growled, charging Locke. His attacks were more ferocious and direct than before. Instead of testing Locke with something new each strike, he delivered the same blows over and over. Atra's blade chopped toward Locke and the Krath deflected it away. Atra did it again, from the other side, and Locke narrowly pushed it away from his body again. The next attack came in a moment, and this time Locke could not set himself up properly to deflect it. Instead, he awkwardly batted it to the side, growling in frustration.

Emotions sprang up on the edge of his mind, as if trying to break his calm. This was not the Atra of old. What had happened to him? Why was he like this? Atra would have not changed mid-battle like that, would he?

Locke crushed those emotions, focusing on the battle at hand. Atra recovered his stance quickly, this time attacking with an uppercut. Locke gathered the Force, deflecting it away from his body. He raised his free hand and struck out, two fingers pointed toward Atra's body, the Force springing from them to the other man, causing a small wound.

Finally, Atra backed away, as if assessing the situation. Locke gasped with relief, panting hard. That was not a side of Atra he had seen before. As the Sith covered the wound with one hand and channeled the Force into it, Locke studied him..

"What was that?" he asked.

"I told you, Atra is dead," he said.

"That does not answer my question." Locke let his lightsaber fall to a ready position, blinking sweat from his eyes as he stalled for time, preparing to continue the battle. Thoughts flowed through his mind. Atra had exposed Locke's weakness one moment, exploiting his repetitive defenses with well-calculated moves, and struck blindly the next. He had dropped creative strikes in favor of seemingly attempting to bludgeon Locke to death.

"I am Anima, " Atra said.

Locke focused intently on the other man. "You have changed, and so have I, yet I do not take a new name. I have not died, but have merely evolved. How are you any different?"

The Krath was not sure how Atra would react, but he had to test this man further. As the battle had progressed, he felt like he knew the Sith less and less. That worried Locke. He braced himself for what reaction he would receive.

Anima fought to keep his jaw tightly closed, letting deep breathes flow between barely parted lips. Fatigue burned in his limbs and scream through his nerves. So much effort already expended between the two and the promise of more hung heavy upon the air. The break granted through conversation was a most welcome one.

"Atra was," Anima paused a moment to refocus upon his steady breathing, "weak. He couldn't survive this world."

Locke raised an eyebrow as he listened, equally happy for the brief respite as sweat beaded heavily upon his brow. The Consul held his saber steadily before him, even as he raised his arm and wiped the lines of sweat from his face with the crook of his elbow.

"So I..." Another pause for breath, "...did what needed to be done."

Anima quickly brushed the sweat from his forehead, the droplets exploding against the floor like liquid bombs. During the same movement, he began charging forward, energy coalescing around the fist gripping his saber tightly. With another step he completed the punching motion and willed the contained energy to expand violently. Locke reacted with intelligence, wasting no stamina on avoiding the oncoming attack and merely raising his hand quickly. Anima could feel the answering traces of Force power flicker into existence, causing his strike to disperse around the Consul harmlessly.

"I killed him!" Anima bellowed viciously, his saliva forming a misty spray in the air.

Sparks hissed through the empty space as their blades crossed almost relentlessly. Their movements became less and less of a blur as the battle continued. Each exchange became less a showing of finesse, and more about conserving what remained of their reserves. Both men were panting, but Locke's ragged breaths were far more for the worse.

Locke was having trouble keeping his distant facade, all of his attention focused on remaining standing. He needed to act quickly or he would lose to the most relentless enemy of all - time. The Consul could only keep up his stamina for so long, even amplifying it through the Force, whereas his opponent still had energy to spare, albeit not that much. Out of desperation Locke enacted a plan of desperation.

The Force crackled to life in his left hand; a contained orb of static energy appearing in his palm. The orb suddenly expanded in the same instant he thrust his arm towards Anima. The Sith threw up his arms defensively as he rushed to meet the oncoming maneuver, the Force solidifying inches out from his forearms. The static shock crackled outward as it shattered against the barrier, cascading harmlessly away as Anima strode forward.

The momentary lapse in focus provided by having to defend against Locke's technique allowed the Consul time enough to palm the DL-44 blaster at his side in exchange for his saber. The barrel was already pointed squarely at Anima's core and with a twinge of regret, Locke squeezed the trigger.

Anima's eyes widened as the shot shrieked into existence and streaked through the short distance. The large man faltered in his step ever so slightly, his ankle twisting painfully as his boot slid across the polished floor. Dipping low as his legs spread apart, the blaster bolt missed its mark and burnt viciously into Anima's left shoulder. A mixture of smoke and sparks filled the air about the wound, crumpled black flesh tracing the faintly glowing wound that fell on the fault line between his prosthetic arm and his shoulder.

Locke quickly took aim again, hoping to get in the final blow and put down the man that had become more animal than the friend he once knew. There was no time, Anima's slip up carrying his momentum forward and crashing hard against Locke's large frame. The pair fell hard to the ground, metal clanging in protest as Locke's blaster and Atra's saber bounced across the hard surface.

Pain consumed Anima like living fire, coursing out from his shoulder and seeking to consume him. A bellow of rage was the man's response, allowing the Force to utterly take hold. He held the more advantageous position, laying firmly above Locke. Anima fought to raise his torso up, his muscles pulling tight from the exertion. Snarling like an animal, the Sith began punching as hard as he possibly could; each grunting slam bringing about a sickening crunch as bone met bone. Flesh gave way to blood, the splatter becoming more and more consistent with each strike against the Consul's head.

Anima wasn't sure how much of the blood was his own, and didn't care at all while the copper taste of it splashed into his open mouth. Again and again the mallets he dared to call his hands sent shockwaves through Locke's limp form. As the anger faded from his body and weakness sought to claim him, the Sith allowed himself to pull in air deeply through shaky breaths. The other man - if you could still call him that - lay completely still, his face nothing more than shattered bone and meat.

Slowly he guided his shaky hand towards his right boot and grasped the handle of his vibrodagger. Anima paused there for a moment, making sure his fingers were firmly clasped on the weapon before pulling it free. Raising the weapon carefully, he held it between himself and what remained of Locke's face.

"Farewell, old friend" Anima slumped his head ever so slightly, the only sign of emotion he was willing to acknowledge. "Your life was always going to end in tragedy."

The Sith put the last of his strength into a deep, quick slash across the neck of his Consul, putting the man down like a wounded animal.

He blinked and the world seemed to stutter around him, the lines between reality and dream reforging themselves. It was the strangest thing, the way humans never the difference while trapped in the grip of imagination.

"Prove it."

Anima could feel Locke's gaze upon the back of his head while his words echoed through the air. Clearing the fog out of his head with a quick shake of his head, Anima let his neck loosen and his head tilt towards the floor.

"Your friend is gone, Locke," Anima stated quietly, "time to move on."

Unwilling to enact the battle that had so vividly raged in his mind, for whatever the reason, the Sith marched out of the room and put as much distance between himself and Locke as possible. The man was still needed in the Clan, and what remained of Atra couldn't afford the loss.

Not yet, at least.

Atra did not answer Locke's question immediately. Instead, he circled Locke, like a feral predator stalking prey. Locke turned about, keeping himself facing the Sith. He would not kill this man or end this fight before he had answers.

For a moment, it seemed as if Atra was contemplative. He opened his mouth, but no words came out. Instead, his lips peeled back in a snarl. Locke's eyes widened as Atra suddenly came at him again, wielding his lightsaber like a meat cleaver. Locke hurriedly raised his own weapon to block. Sunfire and cerulean clashed together, filling the chamber with an echoing cacophony of sound as Locke struggled to hold back Atra's furious assault. Finally, the Krath let out a yell and jumped back, narrowly dodging Atra's lightsaber as it fell through the space Locke had just occupied.

Locke quickly flicked his lightsaber up to block, deflecting Atra's next strike to the side. Though the Sith's attacks were not as blindingly-quick as they previously had been, he still posed a serious threat, forcing Locke to backpedal with each defending action. He could hold the Sith off if Atra continued to attack this way, but would eventually run out of room to maneuver.

The Krath risked a glance around, eyes settling on the door. He turned toward it, spinning on his first step to face Atra from this new angle, lightsaber angled down to force Atra's away. The Sith pursued him, but in mid-attack his cleaving strike changed. It ended differently, the downward cleave pushing out in a stab that nearly pierced Locke's neck. He held his lightsaber close and flicked it just far enough to the side to avoid being hit.

That feral, animalistic zeal was gone from his expression. The snarling predator had become a silent, calculating warrior again. Seemingly unaware of the change, Atra attacked. He began with a forward stab, sweeping it back as Locke moved to deflect it. The Sith spun in a circle, gaining momentum as he came around, blade set horizontally to remove Locke's head. The Krath evaded, stepping back and reforming his defense, allowing him to deflect Atra's next attack, which was much more direct.

"What happened to you? Locke asked.

"I told you, " Atra said, "Atra is dead. There is only Anima."

Atra struck again, forcing Locke back a little further as the Krath defended.

Locke shook his head slightly. "That does not answer my question. Why do you become so out of control at random? What is going on in your head? Surely that is not your fighting style!"

"That is none of your business, " Atra said.

"Then you cannot prove that Atra is dead," Locke said.

This time, Atra spoke slowly, the anger in his voice manifest as ice rather than inhuman rage. "He is dead. Further inquiries are mere denial of reality."

"I don't believe that, " Locke said. He stepped back as the two engaged in another quick series of strikes. The Krath was right in front of the door now. He waited, watching.

If that side of him is truly random, it should happen again, Locke thought. But what causes it? He thought he was beginning to figure it out - at least well enough to fight it, but it didn't seem to happen with any regularity, nor did Atra seem to do anything to intiate it.

"You can accept me as Anima, Consul, or be destroyed if you continue to question what is not yours to know."

"Anything that threatens the safety of the Clan is mine to know, " Locke countered resolutely.

Atra chuckled, then, displaying a bit of his old self. Locke allowed himself to relax slightly, thinking he might be getting somewhere.

Then, suddenly, the shift happened again. Something in Atra's eyes changed. He lunged into another attack, both hands dragging his lightsaber through the air, sweeping from the side. Locke moved with it, deflecting the attack at the very tip of Atra's blade, while raising his free hand. Locke called the Force and directed it at the door, forcing it to slide open.

Atra ignored that, mouth open in a wide grin that showed his teeth, tongue rolling across them as he continued to direct strong attacks at Locke. The Krath pushed himself to avoid them, weaving out of the way of those he could avoid and struggling to deflect what he needed to. The Krath could feel his arms aching, shaking more and more from each strike.

He needed to alter the environment, or he would lose. Locke rolled under Atra's next attack, diving through the door and into the hallway beyond. As the Sith pursued him, Locke yanked at the door with the Force. Trapped on it's sliding track, it slammed shut. As it closed, Locke saw Atra begin to slow.

So, his instincts still work when he's like that, Locke noted. It must have taken Force-enhanced reflexed to realize what was going to happen and slow, and the creature Atra had become did not show signs of thinking too carefully. As if to prove Locke's thoughts correct, he heard pounding on the door, as if Atra had somehow lost the ability to remember how to open it, or forgotten that his lightsaber could cut through it. As the door let out a metallic clank with each hit, Locke thought of something. He pushed his palm toward the door, gathering Force energy. The Krath breathed deeply. Atra's pounded the door rhythmically, as if he was drawing back and throwing himself against it repeatedly. Locke waited for the right moment, finally releasing that energy.

Thin blue bolts arced from Locke's fingertips, striking the door. As it conducted the electricity, it spread throughout it, to the top and bottom. Locke hoped it would affect the other side. When the energetic crackling died down, Locke heard a growl, followed by silence.

Panting quietly, Locke waited, looking at the door. He glanced down the hallway, toward the nearby library. He knew they were a few floors up from the surface and that the balcony in that room might present a danger, but it was a much more open space with many more obstacles. That would be useful.

Ominously, the door quietly slid open, revealing Atra's silhouette, surrounded by the glow of light from the sparring chamber.

"You ran way, " Atra said flatly.

"What have you become?" Locke asked, ignoring the barbed comment.

"Anima," Atra answered.

Frustration oozed through Locke's mind, sliding over the emptiness like contaminated mud, diluting his focus. With difficulty, he forced it to the edges of his perception.

Very well, Anima, Locke thought. Instead, he said "whatever you say, Atra." The words had the intended effect as Atra moved forward to attack.

Locke let himself be pressed down the hallway, entering the library hall. Students looked up from their studies, shock on their faces. Many evacuated the area at the sight of two combatants with lightsabers, others looked on in horror or interest. Locke barely paid them mind. He jumped up on one of the many long tables that dominated this part of the library, giving himself leverage to deflect an upward strike of Atra's. The Sith followed, but Locke stepped down from the other side of the table and swept his lightsaber toward Atra's legs. The Sith somersaulted to the side, landing near Locke, preparing to attack again.

If you truly have changed, I cannot let you live, Locke thought. These random bouts of apparent madness were an unpredictable threat. That made for a unreliable ally, if this new Atra could even be considered an ally. If I am even really fighting Atra.

For the first time, Locke doubted himself. He shoved the thought away, quieting his emotions. Regardless of what he thought, Atra had to be stopped. Such a threat could not be allowed to survive.

No, not Atra. Anima. My friend is gone," Locke told himself. He grieved, but not for long, as Anima aggressively attacked. His unpredictable, precise strikes were like Atra's, but Locke saw something more menacing in them now. There was a furious, murderous intent to each attack, instead of the simple economy Atra had once fought with.

Locke had to end the battle quickly. He side-stepped away from Anima's next attack, summoning the Force and directing it outward from his body, causing nearby chairs to shift and datapads to slide away. One of the students shouted, but Locke ignored their words as he gathered the Force again. Atra had stopped short of the blast's radius, gazing intently on Locke. He looked away briefly and Locke followed his eyes, seeing an ancient book flying toward his face. Tightening his lip in regret, Locke split it in half with his lightsaber, focus intent on gathering the Force. He spread it throughout his body, enhancing both his arms and legs.

It was time to finish this battle. Locke attacked for the first time, truly seeking to defeat his opponent. He swept his lightsaber toward Atra's rib cage, intending to cut across it. The Sith responded quickly, and the two traded blows at a blindingly fast rate, as Locke tried several short, angled strikes and Atra deflected each of them, stepping back only slightly.

Locke maneuvered until they were both near the edge of the balcony. A quick glance showed they were at least three floors up, the tops of aisles and tables far below. Dodging another attack, Locke put the second part of his plan into motion. He focused the Force around Anima, thinking of it as something like a strong weight, bogging him down, counteracting his enhanced movements.

Sidestepping more quickly than Atra could follow, Locke positioned himself opposite the balcony's edge with Anima between him and it. Locke deflected Anima's next strike and then thrust out his free hand, sending a wave of Force energy against the Sith's chest. Anima stumbled backward, leaning over the railing. Without thinking, Locke drew his arms back, crouched, and shoved, throwing his shoulder against Anima's chest. He pushed up as the Sith brought his lightsaber up to remove Locke's arm, but it stopped when Anima realized he was falling.

Locke watched as the Sith hit the ground below, wincing at the sound of it. He watched as the Sith's lightsaber shut off and rolled to one side, and a group of students began to gather around the body. Locke knew that he should go down and make sure Anima was dead. The monster that his friend had become would be a great threat to the Brotherhood if he survived. However, now that he was not in the heat of battle, Locke found he could not bring himself to do it. Instead he stepped away from the balcony, shutting off his lightsaber. The Krath ignored the students who stared at him as he made his way out of the library hall, regret creeping into his mind as he finally let his battle focus collapse completely.