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But it wasn't why he fell. Each and every being with an emotional base similar to humans had a dark side in them. Jedi learn not to suppress that, but through the application of the Jedi Code they let that dark side go. It is there, but it does not influence their actions. They do not act upon it. Picas knew all that. As a Historian, he had studied all the major Jedi who had fallen to their base emotions in heavy detail. He knew the signs. He knew that was not what happened to him, deep down. Something far more complicated had been at work. Something ageless and sinister. And it was walking right behind him. And yet, Picas blamed the Council for his fall. He had fought so hard to protect the citizens of Cloud City from the various Sith cultists on the station. He was one Jedi against many, and he had never been a fighter. He never had the power to vanquish or defeat even the lesser Lords of the Dark. Fight them to a standstill; now, that he learnt to do. The hard way. But beat them? He was a Historian, not a warrior.
But after all that had happened; after Picas gave way and worked with his arch nemesis to help the survivors of a viral and brutal infection that turned denizens bloodthirsty and insane, and using his knowledge to nearly turn one of the more powerful Lords to the Light, his own undoing was the very Order he was serving.*
"No help was sent, was it?" *He said, in a understanding-come-condescending tone.* "They abandoned you, didn't they?"
*Picas didn't answer. He knew that He could listen to his very thoughts; they were one. The Sith had never left him since his 'sacrifice' on Cloud City. The Jedi had not come to his aid when he needed it most. No, not just he; when the innocent needed it most. The Sith Lords had somehow got a hold of ancient and powerful weapons that changed the game completely. Picas could not stop them outright in the first place, but now they were much, much more powerful and deadly. Picas had no chance. And the Jedi didn't come.*
"Talking about me?" *Said He, His yellow-red eyes burning in the nothingness.
Picas ignored him and continued his silent walk. So, Picas had took it upon himself to stop his enemies and save Cloud City. How? He acquired a weapon of his own; he had sacrificed himself but at the same time, deep down, he had give in to his lust for power and shielded that disgusting and un-Jedi way with saving innocents. The weapon was an ancient Sith staff. Not a Lightsaber, but an intricate, wooden staff possessed by... well, possessed by He that followed. Picas could not control the new presence at the edge of his thoughts, and fell into darkness.
That was why Picas was here. His sacrifice was fake. Would he ever get out of here?*
"Can you hear them calling?" *His enemy said, His voice far off and trance-like.
Picas could not.*