Deep within Coruscant's forgotten underlayers—buried beneath durasteel, senate spires, and the glow of the Jedi Temple—the industrial sector slept uneasily. Rusted pipelines groaned overhead, and steam drifted through the narrow service corridors in pale, drifting sheets. Within this mechanical gloom, two hooded figures walked in measured silence.
The taller of the pair moved with a regal, predatory grace, his elongated head casting an angular shadow against the trembling lights. His companion—shorter, human—kept pace a step behind.
At last, the tall figure spoke, his voice low and resonant beneath the hood.
"The Jedi are active. Their investigations creep ever closer to our operations in the Mid and Outer Rim."
A faint, dismissive breath. "The pirates have served their purpose. Through them, we now possess untraceable credits to fund our little army. From here on, we sever contact and leave them to whatever fate finds them."
The shorter man nodded.
"As long as they remain unaware that the Sith have returned, our plans will continue unchecked."
But the tall silhouette slowed… then halted entirely.
"I encountered one of them on Cyrkon," he said. "A Jedi Master—Dooku. The very one you mentioned to me."
"Yes, my master," the shorter man replied. "We spoke on Naboo. His dissatisfaction with the Jedi Order is genuine. He may be persuaded—turned."
The taller hood tilted slightly, considering.
"He is now aware of us. That is something we cannot ignore. If he cannot be brought into the fold… then he must be removed."
The shorter figure bowed deeply.
"Yes… Lord Plagueis."
Their footsteps resumed, vanishing into the metal labyrinth as the shadows welcomed them back—two phantoms plotting the quiet birth of a new darkness.
The Jedi Temple hummed with movement. Knights and Masters strode across the central hall in coordinated purpose, preparing to dismantle the pirate network the Council now had the means to strike. Watching them, Khan felt the weight of the last several days settle heavily on his thoughts.
The Council had reported the pirates to the Senate, requesting authorization to act. After long debate and a sluggish vote, the Republic finally agreed to let the Jedi intervene. A handful of senators even offered soldiers from their planetary garrisons to assist.
But as Khan observed the bustle around him, only one thought lingered:
Why did it take them this long?
Every delayed hour meant more suffering—more worlds left vulnerable. Khan had always known the Republic moved slowly, but seeing it firsthand sharpened that truth into something painful.
To clear his mind, he headed for the Jedi Archives. The quiet of the library always helped him recenter himself, to calm the storm of thoughts and gain new perspective. The Republic wasn't perfect—nothing in the galaxy was—but perhaps, with enough insight, he could one day help improve it.
Before he could sink deeper into contemplation, familiar voices pulled him back.
"My friend, what has you in such deep thought?" Kit Fisto asked as he approached with Aayla Secura at his side. "You're the hero who returned with vital information on those pirates who shot us down."
Khan couldn't help but smile at his friend. "Please. Master Dooku was with me—I didn't do all the work."
They shared a laugh—quiet enough, they thought—until the librarian's stern glare snapped toward them.
"This is a place of study, not banter," she reprimanded.
Aayla gave a soft, apologetic bow. "How about we talk in the gardens?" she suggested.
They agreed at once and slipped out into the Temple gardens, where sunlight filtered through the leaves and the air carried the scent of fresh blossoms.
Once they settled on a stone bench, Aayla spoke gently. "Your thoughts are drifting, Khan. You know you can talk to us."
Kit nodded. "You're one of the sharpest minds I know, but even sharp minds need friends. Tell us what's troubling you."
Khan hesitated, gathering the right words. When he finally spoke, his voice was steady but uncertain.
"Do you think the Order and the Republic are doing the right thing?"
Both Kit and Aayla exchanged surprised glances.
"What do you mean?" Kit asked. "In what sense?"
"It's been nearly two weeks since Master Dooku and I returned from Cyrkon," Khan said. "And the Senate spent that time… debating. Discussing. Delaying. The threat was clear, but action took far too long."
Kit grew serious, listening intently. "I don't know if the Republic—or even the Order—is always doing things the correct way. I'm still learning. But I do agree that if we can help people, we shouldn't wait."
Aayla added, "I feel the same. Our duty as Jedi is to protect those who can't protect themselves. Sometimes the Order seems… too tied to the Republic."
Khan felt a quiet warmth rise in his chest. He wasn't alone in his worries—not nearly as alone as he had feared.
"Thank you," he said softly. "I feel a little better."
Kit grinned. "Only a little? Then how about some sparring to finish the job?"
Khan laughed—genuinely this time. Together, the three of them headed toward the sparring chambers, the weight on his shoulders just a little lighter.
Dooku's chambers sat in near-darkness. Heavy curtains veiled the windows, allowing only thin blades of light to slip through and sketch faint outlines across the room. In that muted glow, Dooku stood alone, hands clasped behind his back, his expression carved in shadow.
He had been standing like this for some time—thinking… questioning.
Why hadn't he told the Council about the warrior on Cyrkon? The crimson blade. The skill. The unmistakable presence of the dark side.
He had justified the omission by calling it caution—an effort to avoid the Council's predictable scrutiny. But deep inside, he suspected a harsher truth:
He no longer trusted them.
His disagreements with the Jedi Council stretched back long before Khan had become his Padawan. But over the years, what had once been minor philosophical differences had widened into a chasm he could no longer ignore. With every mission, every political entanglement, every failure of decisive action… that rift only deepened.
Was it time to leave the Order?
The thought came quietly, yet with weight enough to still his breath.
But to walk away would mean leaving more than doctrine behind. It would mean leaving Khan—and Qui-Gon. The very idea tightened something in his chest.
Could he convince them to follow him?
No… no, that was impossible. Their destinies lay elsewhere, and pulling them from that path would bring more harm than good. He cared too deeply to endanger them so carelessly.
His mind wrestled, meditation offering no relief. The shadows around him felt suffocating.
Then—
A soft chime broke the silence.
A message.
Dooku extended a hand, activating the projector. The blue hologram flickered to life, forming the image of the Naboo senator.
Palpatine.
"Hello, Master Jedi," the message began in the senator's warm, measured tone.
"I send this in hopes of learning more about the pirate situation. The Jedi Council has shared much already, but I would value hearing the details directly from the man who uncovered them. If you would meet with me, I would be most delighted."
The hologram faded.
Dooku stood still, considering. A meeting with a senator was hardly unusual… but something about the message struck him—its timing, its phrasing, its focus. And yet…
Perhaps it was what he needed. A chance to leave these suffocating walls, to breathe, to let his thoughts settle.
He straightened, composing himself with practiced grace.
Very well.
He sent his reply, accepted the invitation, and prepared to meet Senator Palpatine.
Unaware that this single decision would pull him ever so slightly closer to the shadows waiting just beyond his reach.
Night had settled softly over the Jedi Temple, wrapping the great halls in quiet serenity. Khan walked through them at an easy pace, his earlier frustrations now little more than fading echoes. Laughing with Kit and Aayla had done its work—his mind was clearer, lighter.
There was still so much he wished to understand, so much he hoped to change… but perhaps, he thought, he could allow himself to slow down—just a little. For the first time in days, he felt no weight tugging at his thoughts. No shadows clinging to the edges of his mind. Only peace.
Turning a corner, Khan noticed a tall figure entering from the direction of the Temple hangar. Master Dooku. His master walked with his hands folded neatly behind his back, but there was something in the way he carried himself—subtle, but unmistakable.
He looked deep in thought. Troubled, even.
Khan approached.
"Master Dooku—did you just return from your outing?" he asked gently.
Dooku halted mid-step, a faint surprise flashing across his features before he smoothed it away.
"Ah… yes—yes, I was sidetracked for a moment," he replied, voice steadying as he spoke. "I merely went for a walk."
Khan noted the shift, the momentary crack in his master's usual composure. Perhaps Dooku, too, had been wrestling with heavy thoughts tonight. Wanting to ease him, Khan offered a small, understanding smile.
"I understand, Master. A walk can help when one's mind is weighed down."
Dooku's expression softened, if only slightly.
"Indeed. Wise words, Padawan." He nodded down the dimly lit corridor. "Come—let us set aside our thoughts for now. It's late, and rest would do us both good."
Khan's face brightened. "I was just heading back when I saw you. Let's walk together!" He stepped ahead, leading the way with renewed lightness.
Behind him, Dooku paused. Just for a heartbeat. His face darkened, shadowed by something unspoken—something Khan could not see.
"Master?" Khan called back, noticing he'd stopped. "What are you waiting for?"
Dooku blinked, the heaviness vanishing behind a practiced calm.
"I'm on my way, Padawan," he said, following after him.
And together, they walked into the quiet heartbeat of the Temple.
High in his secluded meditation chamber, Master Yoda sat alone upon his small cushion. Darkness surrounded him, broken only by the faint shimmer of Coruscant's distant city lights far below. The hum of the metropolis echoed like a distant heartbeat—steady, unchanging.
But within the Force… something shifted.
A ripple.
A disturbance.
A quiet fracture in the currents he had long trusted.
Yoda's eyes opened slowly.
The sensation was subtle at first—then growing, gathering weight, threading itself through the future like a shadow creeping across stone.
His ears lowered, and he drew in a slow breath.
"Turn, the tides of the Force have," Yoda whispered, voice low and uneasy. "Unknown to me this feeling is… but strong it is."
He rose with effort, leaning upon his cane, gaze drifting toward the narrow window where the night glowed with endless lights.
Something was moving.
Something hidden.
Something old… and awakening.
"Prepare myself, I must," he murmured to the stillness. "Coming, something is."
The chamber fell silent again—but the shadow in the Force did not fade.