"We shall see." Korr's lips twitched upward. It looked as though a statue were trying to smile. Though whether the reply was directed at Malcolm or Taeli remained unclear.
As for being mad at the galaxy, well, Korr had had his fair share of torment. The trail of Viper's thoughts led Korr to rifle through his own memories. Blood on his hands. Slaughtered classmates. Abandoned for a vision. The distrust of the Council. The pain of the Embrace. Returning, hopeful. Watching Coruscant fall, the Temple razed. Seeing the Silvers leave, a second and more painful abandonment. Apparine's betrayal. Twin red blades entering his back. Watching Marcello fall. Ashin's return. Diana's suicide. Third time abandoned. The death of Hasjo. Ket's fall. Quinn's failed redemption. Isolda's prophecies. Kiskla's absence. Deepening rifts. His own revelations.
The images skipped through his mind in rapid chronological sequence, calling up a hurricane of emotions. He physically winced at the last. While he had lain bedridden from Matsu Xiangu's venomous claws, he had discovered his origins. Part of him wished he'd left well enough alone.
What use did he have of the knowledge that he was part of the Vahla, a migrant people, innately inclined to the dark side? What could such information bring but more heartache? All he could envision for himself and his people was a long, vain struggle, with nothing but darkness on all sides. Damned to fall. Damned by nature.
Did he even belong here, in an Order and a Council that their fore bearers woulds be ashamed of? Had he failed in his quest to prop up the falling structure from the inside?
Korr's jaw worked, muscles writhing in silence. Plagued by an alien self-doubt, all thoughts of the rooms occupants gone.