It is almost comical, Anakin thinks. The lead that drew him across the galaxy, Empress Teta to Taris to Sleheyron to Thyferra, will, in the end, bring him right back home.

Coruscant. The Taths' last contact lurks there in the shadows, according to Rex's discovery in the Thyferra bunker. Separatists and Republic hand-in-hand. Credits and artifacts and power and schemes. He should have known it would never be so black-and-white as to assume everything could be labelled into neat boxes, one with the Jedi, one against them. Even the halls of power so near to the Jedi Temple have their traitors. Perhaps they even lurk inside the Temple itself.

Ahsoka looks troubled as she presses her palms to the holoemitter at the center of the Adamant Edict's war room. "Is it really okay that we're leaving Thyferra so quickly?" she asks.

"We were only ever here to assist with the breakthrough and initial attack, along with following up on our intel from Sleheyron," murmurs Anakin, studying the holomap of the planet. Two full assault groups orbit Thyferra, forming a shell-like siege wall around the world as countless gunships drop occupation forces down to the surface. "Luminara's group was always in command of the operation. Her forces will handle occupation."

"But Master Luminara—"

"Barriss will handle it in her place. Commander Gree's capable, too."

Ahsoka frets. "I don't know. I'm worried about Barriss. Before the battle we…well. Never mind. Just—she's obviously under a lot of stress."

"She's a Jedi Knight now. These are the responsibilities she's going to have to face. You too, one day," says Anakin. He could turn this into a lesson, lecture her like Obi-Wan would lecture him, but his heart isn't in it. Grievous's escape still weighs on his mind, kindling that smoldering coal in his heart. Killing Luminara and getting away so easily—it's a crime. A bitter price to the taking of the planet. And, in truth, he cares little about Thyferra. It is a strategically-important world for a number of reasons, true, but all he thinks about now is getting back to Coruscant and sniffing out whatever enemy might slither in their grass. Grievous and the droid armies are a potent enemy, but a familiar one. A known foe. It's the unknown foes that make for the deadliest opponents, and now, more than ever, with the Republic only just hanging on in this war, they cannot permit a viper to burrow in their home turf.

Ahsoka's shoulders slump. She pushes off from the holoemitter and walks to the floor-to-ceiling viewscreen, her steps slow, almost languid, her eyes drifting. Beyond hangs Thyferra, a verdant egg nestled against the star-studded deep, its surface birthing fire and battle and death. Yet from this distance it seems so tranquil. As if there is no war sowing its skies with flame, no clones and battle droids felling one another across its blanketing jungles. Only a world teeming with possibility, a place where life might take root and thrive. Life rising, life falling. "Are we doing the right thing?" Ahsoka says as she looks out.

"Leaving? There's enough troops and armor down there to occupy a world twice as populous, and we have control of orbit. In less than a week, every Separatist unit down there larger than a platoon will be forced to scatter into the jungles or they'll be destroyed," says Anakin. "It'd be a waste not to pull some of us back."

"I don't mean that."

"Then what do you mean?"

She looks over her shoulder with a face full of concern. "Are you okay, Master? I mean, between Rex's data and Luminara—"

He cuts her off with a scowl. "I don't want to talk about Luminara anymore. We've talked about that enough. People die. It's sad, but it happens."

"Fine. Then never mind," she says. An uncomfortable silence settles between them as she looks away. Like the space outside has crept through the transparisteel, all that silent black building a wall brick by brick, battle by battle, and sometimes Anakin has such a hard time seeing over its top. He will never doubt his apprentice; he knows the bond they share. It is far more than friendship, a tie stronger even than his connection to Obi-Wan. But at the same time, she is growing up. Like bodies in the void, orbits swinging away, together, away again. Never separating entirely. Never quite connecting. "It was just something Barriss said while we were underway," Ahsoka speaks up after a minute.

"What?"

"She said we weren't liberating Thyferra from the Separatists. We were invading it. That we weren't wanted, that the people voted for Separatist control, and we were no better than Dooku," she says. She shakes her head. "On the battlefield down there, I saw enough dead Vratix warriors mixed in with the battle droids to know that at least some of the natives agreed with her."

"You don't know that. They could've been pressed to fight. Besides, at least some resisted. The resistance cell that took control of the orbital cannon proves that."

She looks annoyed. "Master, come on. I don't mean every last one of them sided with the Separatists. I just mean it's complicated."

"Look, what's it matter? Not everyone agrees. That's war. One side against the other."

"Yeah. Yeah…and now we have some traitors all the way back on Coruscant. Right in the Senate District, if what Rex found is right," she says. "There's not really Republic worlds and Separatist worlds, are there? They're just worlds. Who's an enemy and who's a friend is all about what you see. We can be good and evil at the same time just based on who's looking. The truth is whoever says it's the truth."

Anakin sighs out of frustration. "You're starting to sound like Padme. Er, Senator Amidala."

"Maybe she's right. She is a senator."

"Why are you even bringing this up now? We've been fighting for three years," says Anakin. Then he stops. Slow down. Patience. She doesn't deserve him taking out his frustrations on her. It's not Ahsoka's fault that things devolved into a melee down there, after all. It wasn't her lightsaber that stole away Luminara's life. "Sorry," he says, looking down. "I was going to ask why it's getting to you, but maybe it's getting to me. I hate all the losses were taking. I hate that the Separatists are advancing almost everywhere they want. And I really hate that someone inside our own ranks, someone right at the heart of the Republic, is aiding them. All this work and fighting we do, and some of our own can't even remain loyal, let alone show some damn gratitude. Would it kill them not to sell out the Republic for a few credits?"

Ahsoka blinks slowly. "How high up do you think it goes with the traitors?" she says. "Do you think any senators are involved?"

"Dunno. Could be. Wouldn't be the first time."

Ahsoka hesitates before she takes the plunge: "What if it goes even higher?"

White dress uniform. White cape. Polished white shoes. Perfection.

Orson Krennic halts outside of Chancellor Palpatine's office as the two clone troopers of the Coruscant Guard standing sentry radio inside. "One moment," the left guard tells him.

Krennic purses his lips and adjusts one of his gloves. He cannot tolerate wrinkles, especially not now, not while Chancellor Palpatine and Vice Chair Mas Amedda are so close. A personal meeting with the Chancellor is not an opportunity he can pass up, and he cannot afford to look anything other than immaculate. It is moments like these that make destinies. Moments like comets winding past stars, where passing too far means being flung off into deep space and drawing too close means plunging into stellar fire. Only when everything is just right—perfect—can one secure their path. Only perfection rewards ambition.

The left clone nods to Krennic. "Go ahead," he says, and the door slides open with a hiss.

Palpatine's office is a narrow space, almost claustrophobic, all crimson and black to the point of foreboding. Krennic swallows as he steps inside and the doors close behind him. Confidence. Confidence in everything you are, everything you will one day be. This is your time.

The Chancellor's seat is turned to face the window, but Mas Amedda steps around Palpatine's desk to appraise Krennic. The Chagrian Vice Chair frowns as he sizes the young man up without a word, his hands cupped behind his back. "Vice Chair Amedda," says Krennic, his head bowed. "Chancellor Palpatine."

"Lieutenant Commander Krennic," Palpatine says without turning. "I received a copy of your most recent report. It is most interesting."

"Thank you, Chancellor."

Amedda scowls. "That is not necessarily a compliment, Lieutenant Commander," he spits. "The entire Special Weapons Group has fallen behind. Unacceptable delay after delay. Director Rann's cost overrides for the Ultimate Weapon have rung up a third of the allocated budget for the Corps of Engineers this year, and now she asks for more, even as the Weapon's construction site over Geonosis seems…unstable, at best…given recent intelligence reports of disruption within the Geonosian hives. Yet now you claim you can bring construction back on track. Excuse me if I doubt it." He folds his arms over his chest. "Galen Erso. Tell me why he's agreed to work on the project. Rann has claimed for two years that Erso has refused anything to do with the Special Weapons Group."

"As far as Galen Erso knows, his research will develop next-generation power solutions on our medical stations and frontier outposts to aid in refugee resettlement and planetary rehabilitation," says Krennic. "A…convenient cover story. He is an idealistic man. Enormously talented, a scientific genius, but idealistic. He never would have allowed for his work to contribute to the Ultimate Weapon. Or any military project."

"A convenient lie," says Amedda. "And if Erso finds out you lied to him? If he finds out you are using him?"

"That will not happen, Vice Chair. And Galen is far too valuable an asset to pass up. His work will put to rest any and all talk of delays regarding the construction of the Weapon's prototype. I assure you."

At last Palpatine turns. He looks not so much like the wizened elder of the Senate here in the fading glow of the early Coruscant evening. Instead, with his fingertips pressed together and his head hunched slightly forward, he appears far more dangerous than Amedda. As if the Vice Chair is only here to spare him the indignity of doing most of the talking. "Quite the confidence, Lieutenant Commander," Palpatine says, stressing the rank. Krennic is still a young man, a man far less accomplished than either of the two titans he stands before now. A babe before giants. One footstep will grind him into the earth.

Krennic takes a deep breath before continuing. Steady. This is exactly where you have always aimed to be. "I understand the difficulty imposed by the cost overruns, Chancellor, but with the additional resources requested by Director Rann and Erso's talent aboard, we can have the prototype of the Weapon completed within a year. Already much of the superstructure has been assembled over Geonosis. We simply need to perfect the main cannon's firing sequence and power utilization. Then build it, of course."

Palpatine's eyes drift down, then up, predator-like, probing for dishonesty, for weakness. But Krennic is not weak. He cannot be, at least. Not now. "You do not see eye-to-eye with Director Rann," says Palpatine.

Krennic hesitates. Should he disagree, claim harmony within the Republic Special Weapons Group to placate the Chancellor? No. No, better to go with honesty. He swallows and says, "Not entirely, Chancellor."

"She has disparaged you on three separate occasions," Amedda adds. "Most recently, she claims it is you who is responsible for the Weapon's delays."

No, no. Not like this. Krennic furrows his brow. "Vice Chair, I have thrown all of my efforts into the project. We will finish the prototype with our requested resources. We will double our efforts. A year. I promise."

Palpatine's smile stops him before he can continue. "You will have your resources," he says. He raises his head. "Hosha Tath will contact you soon. She will…take care of you. She will provide you with anything you require."

Krennic stumbles for his next words. He does not know who this Hosha Tath is, but he can sense that he is on the cusp of achieving something great. Do not mess it up now. "And…and Director Rann?"

"We know Rann's culpability in the overruns and delays," Amedda says. "We have known for some time, despite her protests. That is why the Chancellor summoned you. Her failures are at an end. The Ultimate Weapon and the Special Weapons Group are now in your hands."

"Director Rann will not be a concern moving forward," says Palpatine. He leans forward, his eyes piercing to the point that Krennic thinks the Chancellor is seeing beyond his face, into the very depths of his mind. A shiver races up his back. "See to it that you do not disappoint me as she did…Director Krennic."

Have you ever seen it?

The moment a dream becomes reality. When the visions of a drifting mind make manifest and step into reality, thought and whisper twining together into a fabric of matter and form. When fears and hopes and dread and desire climb forth from that slumbering sea and emerge into the light, so real that you can hold it in your hand. The moment when a dream becomes more than just a dream. The moment when you know you have seen what is to come.

Sae knows it. She has never seen it before, but she sees it now.

Boreal winds buffet the Evening as it dives through the cocoon of clouds enveloping the world of Ziost. Below, snow-capped mountain peaks breach the stratus layer like jagged, hellish islands poking out of a forlorn sea. A coldest of winters. There is nothing alive here, Sae thinks, but as the ship dips through the clouds and descends towards the fog-laden landscape below, she sees that she is wrong. A shadow in the distance, so huge, so tall, that she spots it with ease even thousands of feet up. A leviathan moving its slow legs across the frigid landscape, a monster in the mist.

It is exactly like the premonition she had on Ossus. She half-expects to spot Obi-Wan and Master Gallia's bodies lying in the snow if she squints.

"That's a big boy," Neelotas breathes out as he spies the spectral beast in the fog. "We're not staying here long, are we? Rather not get the ship stepped on."

"Looks cold," breathes Tamri, clutching her traveler's cloak around her shoulders.

Neelotas scoffs. "You just figured that out? Snow give it away?"

Tamri looks to Sae with questioning eyes. "Master?"

Sae is quiet. She felt it all the way up in low orbit, and she feels it far more strongly now. This planet overflows with the Dark Side, even more than Korriban. And there is something, something more. Something stronger than just that aura of the Force. Something physical, like a beacon, like a torch in the night. A call leading her on. "Just keep on our current heading," she says.

"Do you even know the coordinates? Anything that'll tell me where we're going, exactly?" says Neelotas. "It's just a ton of rock and ice."

"I don't know," says Tamri. "I heard Ziost. That's all."

"You're fine," Sae says. It is stronger. Stronger. She can almost reach out and touch it, that unseen hand that would take hers and lead her into darkness, into light.

Neelotas frowns. "Sure?"

"Keep going," murmurs Sae. "Just keep going."

Tamri's lower lip trembles. She takes hold of Sae's arm and steps closer to her master. "I have a bad feeling about this."

The Evening cuts low over a mountain ridge, dipping down into a canyon to escape the worst of the winds. Everywhere Ziost is hostile—the cold, the rocky terrain, the gouging peaks that drop away with two-hundred-foot vertical cliffs. In the air shadows drift through the clouds, the cutout forms of aerial colossi undulating through the skies like cuttlefish. Nothing here is natural, Sae thinks. Even those titanic lifeforms—if they actually are life—do not seem natural. Products of the Dark Side, perhaps. Misshapen abominations from ancient Sith rituals that have stuck around and clung to existence even as the rest of this world faded from the galaxy's notice. Now company to ghosts and dreams and nothing more.

She closes her eyes, tunes out the beeping from Neelotas's pilot console, and focuses. Slip into the Force. Let it take you in the moment, the river of all things living that will show you the way. Trust your feelings. Your instincts. Guide me. It is only growing stronger. "We're not far now," murmurs Sae.

"How can you tell?" asks Tamri.

"I can feel it. We're almost there."

Neelotas brings the ship over a ridge, rides a current higher, and then gasps in surprise. "Holy mother of lords," he says. "Look at that."

Here does the storm converge. Here is the center of the conflagration, a cell within the supercell, winds swirling and twisting and warping as the clouds spiral in a great vortex in the sky. Below in a valley ringed by towering peaks is a modest mountain, far smaller than its peers, but almost perfectly pyramidal. Unlike the sedimentary peaks around, its sides are black volcanic rock, patches of the dark material glistening in the muffled white daylight where the snow does not cover it. At its apex the clouds dip down into a cyclone, a monstrous tornado that whips up snow and ice but never moves, as if some unseen anchor deep within the mountain roots the twister to this spot. Sae takes a deep breath. Here. They have come all this way to get here. The Dark Side pulls at her so strong that it threatens to slip into the cockpit like a demon entering the physical realm, a midnight beast grabbing at Sae's arms, neck, mind. She is plunging into its very heart. Diving, diving—and she goes willingly. "Set us down outside that mount," she says.

"You want to go down there? Seriously?" says Neelotas.

"Seriously. Set us down."

"The winds—"

"Manage it."

Neelotas shakes his head. "Whatever you say."

Tamri tugs at Sae's arm. "Master, are you sure about this?" she says. "I know what I heard on Korriban, but we can still go back. We can still call the Council, figure this out. Get some guidance. It's not too late."

"We don't have time. Dooku found that tomb too. He might be on his way for all we know, and we won't stand a chance if he comes," says Sae. "If whatever Dark Side…thing…in there matches what you heard, then we need to find it now. We can destroy it."

"But—"

"It's a menace, Tam. We can't let Dooku and the Sith have it. This is what we've come all this way to do."

Tamri closes her eyes. "Okay."

Sae lets out her breath. Yes. What they've come to do. Destroy it. A Sith superweapon that might give the Separatists overwhelming power, power that would destroy the Republic and the Jedi. Destroy it. It's the Dark Side that tempers Tamri, gives her pause. Infects her with fear.

Destroy it. But first she will look upon it. First she will see what this great and ancient power, if it is indeed that nexus of the Dark Side under all that rock and snow, might show her. If it would unveil the future…well, she cannot let a moment so valuable go to waste. Only a moment. It is only right.

The cyclonic winds batter the Evening as it curls around the twister, dives through the blustering snow, and settles down on the sturdies patch of earth Neelotas can find. "Sorry to disappoint, but I'm not goin' out there," Neelotas says. "You two stay safe."

"Stay on the comms in case things get messy," says Sae, pulling up her cloak's hood. "Tam. Let's go."

When the Evening's ramp lowers a near-horizontal blast of snow cascades in. Sae turns her head, pushing out against the wind. "Don't let go of my hand," she says to her apprentice as Tamri clings tightly to her.

"Do you really think this is the place?" calls Tamri through the gale.

Struggling against the wind, Sae holds on to the hem of her hood, squints, and peers through the blowing snow.

She can just make it out. Ahead, across a hundred meters of flat, wind-whipped ground, the mountain yawns and reveals utter blackness beyond. Jagged dark rocks like canine teeth stick out from the roof and floor of the cavern entrance. Despite the wind, a faint fog seems to drift out from the hole, the gap large enough that an AT-TE walker could march in with room to spare on all sides. But it is the feeling, not the sight, that tells Sae that this is it. Never has she felt the Dark Side—no, the Force—this strongly. It is beckoning her, calling her on, howling as loudly—louder—than the winds. Come, it thunders. Come and see all that we would show you. Come and see what lies ahead.

Sae can see it now. The moment that possibilities become realities. As Tamri holds one of her hands, the Force takes the other. This. This is what all your years and struggles and pain have been leading up to. It is so very near, and the road ahead is so very short.

All you have to do is keep going.

"This is the place," she says to Tamri. "Are you afraid?"

Tamri swallows, looks up at her, and nods.