The ship hummed quietly as it entered hyperspace, the familiar blue-white tunnel of light streaming past the viewport. We were heading back to Coruscant. Our mission on Mandalore had been a success, at least on paper.
I'd gotten Bo-Katan to accept me as a Mandalorian in training. She and those loyal to her and the old ways would turn on Pre Vizsla when the time came. She'd also agreed to investigate the Kaminoan facility and the mercenaries training the clone army.
Duchess Satine was on board too, albeit reluctantly. Still, it was better than nothing. She'd changed her tune when she saw the notes about the Kaminoans and the building of the clone army. The evidence had been impossible to ignore.
She'd wanted to go and stop its continued existence immediately, even get the Republic involved if necessary. Good thing I'd reminded her why that wouldn't work, the Sith, the assassination attempts, the inner corruption of the Republic. All of it made direct action impossible.
I could remember that conversation well. Too well.
Two rotations earlier, in a private meeting room aboard the transport ship...
"We should stop this army from being commissioned before it's too late," Duchess Satine said, her voice carrying the conviction of someone who believed in the power of direct action.
I shook my head slowly. "Duchess, it is too late already. The army began production a few years ago. The clones only need approximately ten years to reach physical and mental maturity. That means they might already have a few hundred near ready for deployment. Not to mention the Advanced Recon Commandos program and many other specialized units already established."
Satine's blue eyes flashed with frustration. "I don't care about some specially trained clones. This entire army is an affront to Mandalore, to its people, to our culture. Noctis should want to stop this as soon as possible."
I kept my expression neutral, though inside I felt the familiar weight of manipulation settling over me like a cloak. "No. Noctis wants to control this army and adjust it."
"Is that what this is?" Satine pulled up a file on the holopad, a document from the data chip I'd given her labeled Hybrid Army.
I nodded. "Yes, that is the one."
"Why can't I access it?" Her voice took on an edge of suspicion. "I told you I was on board, so you should include me in Noctis's plans."
This woman truly is foolish, I thought, keeping my face carefully blank. I don't have to share anything with you. Honestly, I just want her to get with Obi-Wan and go make babies somewhere else for a few years.
But I needed her cooperation. I needed her to be useful. And that meant reminding her of her place in my plans, gently, but firmly.
I stared at Satine, letting my golden eyes focus on her with an intensity I'd learned from Mother Talzin. My gaze became piercing, intimidating, carrying weight beyond just visual contact.
"What are you doing, Cain?" Satine asked, her voice wavering slightly as she took a small step backward.
I reached into the Force, drawing on the technique Mother Talzin had taught me during our sessions on Dathomir. It wasn't the dark side, not exactly, but it was close. A projection of will, of dominance, of presence that pressed against another person's consciousness like a physical weight.
Show them your will is stronger, Talzin had said. Make them feel the difference between you. It makes them more agreeable to your words. But be careful, it will not work against those with strong wills.
I released the pressure slowly, carefully, keeping it as low as possible so it wouldn't alert Anakin or Seris in the other room. The air in the meeting room seemed to grow heavier, thicker, as if the walls themselves were pressing inward.
Satine's hand moved instinctively toward her side, probably reaching for a hidden mini-blaster.
"Do not make any sudden moves," I said, my voice stern and cold, stripped of the warmth I usually maintained.
My face was stoic, expressionless. I felt a flicker of guilt deep in my chest, but I pushed it down. This is necessary. She needs to understand.
"Now let me make this clear, Duchess," I continued, each word deliberate and measured. "You are one of many routes Noctis can take to unite Mandalore. You are a good figure to unite the people, but there are others, and better ones too. Just think for a second."
I gestured to the other files on the holopad, letting her see the names and profiles I'd compiled. Other potential leaders. Other paths forward.
"The army is going to happen whether you want it to or not," I said flatly. "If you bring it to light, the Chancellor will just help Death Watch or some other opposing group kill you, and then place a figurehead who will work for him."
Satine's eyes widened. "Wait....the Chancellor? Why would he...."
I said nothing at first, just maintained that cold, piercing stare. Letting her come to the conclusion herself. Watching as the pieces fell into place in her mind.
Her eyes opened even wider, genuine fear flickering across her face. "The Chancellor... he's behind the army's creation?"
I nodded slowly. "His former master, to be exact."
I could see her struggling to process this, so I continued, explaining carefully. I told her about the Sith, about the Rule of Two. About Palpatine and his identity as a Sith Lord. About the creation of the clone army and the coming war between the Republic and the Outer Rim, and its true purpose, the destruction of the Jedi Order and the rise of a Sith Empire.
I kept some things closer to the chest, but I gave her enough to understand the scope of what we were facing.
"I can't believe this," Satine whispered, her voice shaking. "The Chancellor is a Dark Lord, and he's creating an army to destroy the Jedi and slowly take over the galaxy. Wait, if Noctis knows this, why doesn't he bring the evidence before the Republic and impeach the Chancellor?"
She was still trembling slightly, her composure cracking under the weight of what I'd revealed.
I released the Force pressure I'd been maintaining, letting it dissipate like smoke. I saw the immediate relief on her face, her posture relaxed, her breathing returned to normal, the tension in her shoulders easing.
I hate doing this, I thought, feeling the guilt settle deeper in my chest. But she needs to understand the reality of the situation.
"That wouldn't work," I said, my voice returning to a more normal tone. "Besides making Palpatine take a midi-chlorian count test, which he doesn't have to do, having a high count doesn't mean anything except that the Jedi missed a potentially powerful member. Him following the Sith religion is not illegal, but owning Sith artifacts is, unless they're proven harmless by the Jedi Order."
I paused, letting that sink in.
"Everything else I've told you has to be proven, and Noctis doesn't have as much proof as I'm talking about. We'd be bringing circumstantial evidence at best. Unless we get his accomplices to come forth—and no, the Mandalorians training the clone army or the Kaminoans wouldn't work."
"Why not?" Satine asked, her voice steadier now but still carrying an edge of desperation. "They would be able to corroborate his involvement."
"No, because he did nothing himself," I explained patiently. "He got a Jedi to commission the army before killing him. His former master paid for its creation before he killed him. His former assassin eliminated his opposing parties. And his new puppet student found the perfect DNA template for the army's creation. Palpatine is now the in-between man until the army is ready for deployment."
Satine's face had gone pale. "Wait, a Jedi wanted this army created? Is he a pawn of Noctis as well? And who is this in-between man?"
I sighed, feeling the weight of these secrets pressing down on me. "The Jedi is not part of Noctis's plans. As for the in-between man..." I paused, meeting her eyes directly. "This will have to be a secret that you cannot reveal. Do you understand?"
"I do," she said quietly.
"The man's alias is Darth Tyranus, but his public name is Count Dooku."
"Dooku?" Satine's voice rose slightly in shock. "The Count of Serenno? A former Jedi Master?"
"Yes," I confirmed. "This is all I will tell you for now."
I pulled out a small encrypted comlink and handed it to her. "I'm giving you my frequency for secure communications. I'm also giving you a codename, and access to my other contacts through Noctis. Everyone uses codenames, and your identity is only known by me and Noctis himself. Some of these contacts are just like you, leaders or very rich and powerful people who want to change the galaxy for the better."
I watched her turn the comlink over in her hands, studying it.
"Until you meet in person, stick to the codename," I continued. "If you can't get in touch with me or Noctis, your last resort contact is this person." I pulled up a profile on the holopad. "Their codename is Owl, but you know her as Bo-Katan Kryze."
Satine's eyes widened in genuine shock. "My sister... she's working with you?"
"She is more than that," I said carefully. "But that's another secret. Talk to her sometime. I know you both don't always see eye to eye, but you both seek a better Mandalore. I believe this is a good way to reconnect. She's expecting a call from you soon, so don't keep her waiting."
I gestured toward the door, indicating the conversation was over.
Right as the door hissed open, Satine spoke again, her voice softer now, almost vulnerable.
"What am I supposed to say to her? We haven't talked to each other in years, and we didn't leave on good terms."
I sighed, feeling a flicker of sympathy despite everything. "Duchess, may I remind you I am thirteen and have no siblings that I know of. So I cannot tell you what you should say, but I believe it would be good to start with 'hello' and 'I missed you.'"
Satine's eyes softened, some of the hardness melting away. "You're right. Thank you, Padawan Cain."
I nodded, then decided to push one more thing. "By the way, tell Obi-Wan you love him already."
Satine's eyes widened again, a blush creeping across her cheeks. "Wait, what?"
"He loves you too," I said matter-of-factly. "He told me that if you had asked him, he would have left the Order for you."
"He really said that?" Her voice was barely a whisper, filled with hope and fear in equal measure.
I nodded. "Yes. So stop thinking you have time, because you don't. Your relationship can work, and I believe in you two. Confess. Kiss. Get married and make some babies. You both deserve some happiness. We leave tomorrow, and I called him a few minutes ago."
"You what?" Satine said, her expression shifting to nervous panic. "This is too soon! Aren't we too late to do this? He has his responsibilities and I have mine."
"Duchess!" I said sternly, cutting through her spiral.
She stopped, looking at me with wide eyes.
"I don't care which of those three things you do, but two of them will be done," I said firmly. "You are a warrior whether you believe it or not. So if you can fight for peace and unity for your people, then do the same for love and unity with you and Obi-Wan."
I said nothing else and left the Duchess standing there, her face flushed and her mind clearly racing.
Back to the present...
The ship's engines hummed steadily as we traveled through hyperspace. I sat in the common area, staring out at the swirling blue-white tunnel, my mind replaying that conversation.
I manipulated her, I thought, the guilt settling like a stone in my stomach. I used the Force to intimidate her, to make her more compliant. Just like Talzin taught me.
Is this who I'm becoming? Someone who uses people like pieces on a dejarik board?
"I'm sorry, Padawan, that you couldn't find anything about your lineage," Master Plo Koon said, his voice pulling me from my thoughts.
I turned to see him standing in the doorway, his mask reflecting the hyperspace glow.
"It's alright, Master," I said, forcing a small smile. "I was glad to be allowed to search anyway. Now I can put this to rest for a while."
Master Plo then went back to the front of the ship.
Lies, I thought. I found everything. I know exactly who I am now.
"Why not tell them you're a Vizsla?" Anakin asked from across the room, where he'd been quietly working on his lightsaber maintenance.
I felt Seris's presence sharpen with attention from where she sat nearby, her gray eyes watching me carefully.
"Think about it, Anakin," Seris said, her voice low and measured. "Not only is his clan head the leader of a terrorist group, but Cain is also carrying the Darksaber. He's a descendant of the only Mandalorian Jedi. He's stuck in a whole political mess with Mandalore now. It's more than just about his family history, some might see him as a possible replacement or usurper to the Duchess."
Anakin frowned. "Won't it be a problem since he's half Sephi?"
I shook my head. "Not really. The Mandalorians weren't originally human. The original Mandalorian people were a gray-skinned, yellow-eyed species called the Taung, who were native to the planet Coruscant. After losing a war against the ancestors of humans, the Taung were driven from Coruscant and eventually found a new homeworld, which they named Mandalore."
I paused, gathering my thoughts.
"Over time, the Mandalorian identity evolved from being a specific species into a multi-species culture defined by its warrior code, which includes raising foundlings of other species. This meant that humans and other aliens who followed the Mandalorian creed could become Mandalorians. The Taung eventually went extinct, leaving their cultural legacy to those who followed the Mandalorian way of life."
"That's actually really cool," Anakin said, his eyes lighting up with genuine interest. "So even I could become a Mandalorian?"
"Yes, if you prove yourself like I am," I confirmed. "Even if I beat Pre Vizsla, I still have to be accepted by the rest of House Vizsla. I also still have to be accepted by the other clans under it that follow my House as well. You could also start your own clan."
"How do I do that?"
"Creating clans can be simple on paper," I explained. "Branching off can be just establishing new branch clans from the main lines. Some examples are Clan Wren and Clan Saxon, who are branches of House Vizsla."
"Okay, sounds simple enough," Anakin said, smirking.
I shook my head. "Not really. That's why I said 'on paper' it's simple. A new clan will only be considered legitimate if enough other Mandalorians recognize it and acknowledge its place within the broader Mandalorian society."
Anakin sighed. "Well, I can understand that. But tell you what, Cain—when and if you decide to take over, I will join your House and stand by your side. And if the other clans don't accept you, then we can create our own clan."
"I agree with Anakin, and I know the others will as well, Cain," Seris said, her voice carrying quiet conviction.
I felt warmth spread through my chest, genuine gratitude mixing with the guilt. "Thanks, you two. I appreciate it."
"No problem," Anakin said. Then his expression shifted, becoming more serious. "But don't think we're not going to talk about what you said on Concordia, Cain."
The warmth evaporated instantly, replaced by cold dread.
"He's right, Cain," Seris said, her gray eyes hardening slightly. "We trust you, but you've been hiding too much. You should not keep your friends in the dark. Especially when you ask us to follow you into the unknown. If we're going to help you and keep your secrets, we need to know why."
I felt Master Plo's presence shift slightly, his attention focusing on me even though his mask revealed nothing.
They're right, I thought, the guilt intensifying. Seris and the others have been more than good friends to me. Bo-Katan taught me a good lesson, I'm fighting for their futures, but they also deserve a say in their own futures.
I will have to tell them what's going on and my plans for the future. That also means telling Plo, Fay, and even some parts I haven't told Talzin. She knows Maul is alive, but not where he is. She hasn't asked me about his location, and I don't know why. I just hope she's choosing to trust me after all this time.
But for right now, I need to start bringing Jedi into my inner circle to initiate change in the Order. Or find a new location to start over if I need to.
I took a deep breath, meeting their eyes one by one.
"You're right," I said quietly. "I'm sorry I haven't shared everything with you yet. You've all been nothing but patient. Let's get the others together and discuss this over training."
Anakin nodded, but his expression remained serious. "How about you treat us to a meal, Mr. Famous Author?" He smirked, trying to lighten the mood slightly.
I smiled despite myself. "I wish I could, but I'm broke, Anakin."
Both Anakin and Seris's eyes widened in surprise and confusion.
"How?" Seris asked, genuinely baffled. "I heard that you're going to be releasing the final book of your series soon. And what happened to your money from before?"
Well, she's not wrong, I thought. My books are still selling very well. The limited physical copies gave me a lot of credits.
"You're right, plus I'm releasing prequel books about the different Houses and the War of the Dune franchise," I explained. "But my money is tied up with investments. So even when I release these books, I will barely break even until those investments pay off."
"Wait, you're coming out with more books?" Seris asked, her eyes lighting up with interest.
Funny how that's the first thing she narrowed in on and not the investments part, I thought with amusement. That's a true book fan for you.
Anakin looked at me with slightly narrowed eyes, his mechanical aptitude making him more suspicious. "What investments?"
Good. At least one person is focused. Just not the person I expected to be focused on that statement.
"It's mostly in medical and technological advancements," I said carefully. "Stuff I want to get ahead on in the future. Also, I own an apartment on Coruscant and a few other planets. Nothing fancy, but in case I want to get away, I can."
"Advances like what?" Anakin pressed, his curiosity clearly piqued.
I smiled. "Now that is a surprise for later. I want to not say anything until it actually shows progress."
"Will one of the books talk about the Bene Gesserit?" Seris asked, completely ignoring the investment conversation.
I chuckled at how Seris was still focused on the books. "Yes, that will be the first book released. I'm also going to make a new series of books that will invent a new genre of games people can play."
Both of them looked more surprised. "More books and a game? What kind?" Anakin asked.
"The series is called Conan the Barbarian, and the game is called D&D—Dungeons and Dragons."
They both looked at me with confusion. "What are they about?" Seris asked.
I smirked. "I'll tell you later, as well as show you. The book is still being written, and the game materials are still being made. The game will take a long while."
They both shook their heads in confusion, but I could tell they were interested in what I was creating now.
The conversation drifted to lighter topics after that, but I could feel the weight of unspoken questions hanging in the air. Anakin and Seris had let it go for now, but they wouldn't forget. They deserved answers, and soon I would have to give them.
Soon after that, the ship dropped out of hyperspace. Coruscant appeared before us, the city-planet gleaming in the light of its sun. The ship descended through the atmosphere, weaving between traffic lanes and towering skyscrapers until the Jedi Temple came into view.
The sun was rising, casting golden light across the Temple's spires, making them glow like beacons against the urban sprawl.
I stepped onto the landing pad and looked up at those ancient towers, feeling the weight of everything that had happened on Mandalore settling onto my shoulders.
I could feel the weight of the galaxy already shifting, I thought, watching as other Jedi moved about their business in the early morning light. From my friends to the galaxy's leaders and the Council—questions are forming and eyes are on me.
I don't fear them. But I have to be careful of my steps moving forward.
Master Plo placed a hand on my shoulder. "You have done well, Padawan. Rest now. We will speak more of what you learned on Mandalore in the coming days."
I nodded, grateful for the reprieve. "Thank you, Master."
As we made our way into the Temple, I caught Anakin and Seris exchanging glances behind me. They were talking silently through the Force, their bond allowing them to communicate without words.
They're worried about me, I realized. And they're right to be.
Meanwhile, back on Mandalore at House Vizsla's residence...
Pre Vizsla stood before a holo-communicator in his private study, the blue light casting harsh shadows across his scarred face. His armor was off, revealing the simple combat suit beneath, but his presence was no less intimidating.
"So you're saying the Sephi boy is Selene's child and a Jedi?" Pre's voice was cold, controlled, but there was an undercurrent of something else, curiosity, perhaps, or old grief.
"Yes, sir," the holo-image of a Death Watch member confirmed. The warrior's voice was respectful but carried an edge of concern.
"What did Bo-Katan do?"
"She fought the boy and took him in as a foundling. Her and some of the other members know that you killed Selene and will take action against you."
Pre's eyes narrowed, his face settling into deep contemplation. His jaw worked silently for a moment before he spoke again. "Where is she now?"
"She took a handful of those loyal to her and went to investigate this clone army the boy was talking about, and the Mandalorian mercenaries."
"I see." Pre's voice was flat, emotionless. "Keep me informed. I expect Bo-Katan to raise the boy up to usurp me. Which I will allow, since he is Selene's spawn. I do owe him the right for vengeance."
He paused, and something that might have been regret flickered across his face.
"Too bad. If I'd known he was alive, I would have taken him under my wing. It was my brother who wanted Selene dead more than me."
The Death Watch member hesitated. "Are we to do nothing about Bo-Katan, sir?"
Pre shook his head slowly. "No. Just keep an eye on her. She won't do anything until she's ready, and from what you're telling me, she'll be too distracted with this clone army and the Jedi to focus on me."
"Yes, sir. I will keep my eyes on her."
The transmission ended with a soft chime, leaving Pre alone in the dim study.
He stood there for a long moment, staring at the empty space where the hologram had been. Then he turned and walked to the mantle, where a single picture frame sat among his weapons and trophies.
It was an old photograph, the colors slightly faded with age. Three figures stood together in full beskar armor, their helmets off, smiling at the camera. Pre Vizsla looked younger, his face unscarred, his eyes bright with idealism. Beside him stood his brother, Tor Vizsla, taller and broader, with a cruel smile that even then had carried a hint of madness.
And between them stood Selene.
She was beautiful in the way a vibroblade was beautiful, elegant, deadly, and perfectly balanced. Her golden eyes seemed to glow even in the still image, and her smile was genuine, warm, full of hope for what they could accomplish together.
How did this happen? Pre thought, his hand reaching out to touch the frame's edge. How did we go from wanting to change Mandalore together to killing each other for our own ideals?
He remembered the arguments, the slow fracturing of their alliance. Tor had grown more extreme, more violent, more willing to sacrifice innocents for the "greater good" of Mandalore's warrior culture. Selene had pushed back, arguing for honor, for the protection of the weak, for the True Mandalorian way.
And Pre... Pre had been caught in the middle, trying to hold them together even as they tore each other apart.
I should have stopped Tor, he thought, old guilt rising like bile in his throat. I should have seen what he was becoming. But I was too focused on our goals, too willing to overlook his methods. And when he finally moved against Selene, I didn't stop him. I just... watched.
Pre's hand clenched into a fist, the leather of his glove creaking.
"Well, Selene," he said quietly to the photograph, his voice carrying a weight of years and regrets. "If your spawn proves worthy enough, I will let him live and take him under my wing. He will be the next Head of House Vizsla."
He paused, a bitter smile crossing his face.
"Or he will join you in the afterlife."
Pre chuckled, the sound dark and humorless. "Who knows? He might surprise us both and kill me. Then I'll be seeing you and the others sooner than expected."
He stood there for a long moment, staring at the photograph, at the ghosts of what they had been and what they might have become.
The boy has her eyes, he thought. And if Bo-Katan is training him, he'll have her skills too.
Good. He'll need them.
Pre turned away from the mantle, his expression hardening back into the mask of the Death Watch leader. He had work to do, plans to set in motion, a galaxy to reshape.
But in the quiet of his study, with only the ghosts of the past for company, Pre Vizsla allowed himself one moment of honest reflection.
I'm sorry, Selene. For what I did. For what I didn't do. For all of it. But if your son is strong enough, maybe he can finish what we started. Maybe he can be what we couldn't.
Maybe he can save Mandalore. The study fell silent, the only sound the distant hum of Concordia's mining operations and the whisper of old memories that would never quite fade.