The deeper he descends, the darker it gets.

Anakin heads into the subterranean halls beneath the energy tower on Sullust with his lightsaber leading the way. He meets almost no resistance outside of a few wall-mounted automated turrets; every battle droid that can fight is outside fending off the onrushing clones. Here there is only the snap-hissing of sparking wires and struggling lights. All power must be redirected to keep the planetary shield system online in the face of Dodonna's fleet in orbit; a few lights and fans here underground are the least of the Sullustans' worries now.

He can take the gloomy duskiness of these halls, but some air conditioning would be nice. It was hot enough outside. Anakin expected going underground would bring a relief from the volcanic broil, but if anything it's only getting hotter the deeper he goes. But he doesn't have time to fret about the temperature: Men outside are still fighting and dying. He, Obi-Wan, and Ahsoka have to get the shields and the defenses down, and quickly.

Thick, trunk-like tubes lining the walls and ceiling tell him he's going the right way. They're power cables, he guesses, encased in shielded conduits to ward off any electromagnetic attack on the generator core. He can hear a thrumming from inside; all that energy passing through, enough to light up a small city. If only he could simply cut the tubes with his lightsaber and end the Sullustan resistance with one slice, but it won't be that easy. At the end of a hall he accesses a maintenance console, bringing up the tower's specifications and status. Like a maze, these twisting, winding underground halls. Or a bunker, hardened and defended with dozens of meters of earth, duracrete, and steel weighing down from above. But Anakin's not far from the core now: Several emergency staircases and maintenance shafts lead straight from his position to an open cylindrical pit as large as a corvette. A power regulator station situated at the base of the reactor pit—that's his target, if Obi-Wan is right. And not far from there, four security stations arranged all around the reactor. That's where all the resistance is waiting. Waiting for him.

Good.

Anakin expects the power generator to be something like a star destroyer's reactor—metal and lightning and efficiency; military fare. Instead he finds a vast, cavernous space criss-crossed with open catwalks that converge on dangling control stations like a maddening spiderweb, all of it hanging over a scorching, fuming pool of lava and basalt islands a hundred meters below. Geothermal power then, and a particularly deadly version of it. He winces as he looks down at the perilous, smoldering drop. "Why can no one in the galaxy make guardrails?" he mutters.

There—the emergency power regulator station hangs near the central thermal exhaust tube, a giant metal cylinder at the center of the great cavern. The regulator's little more than a few computer stations arranged around a platform suspended at the intersection of three catwalks, all of it unguarded. Not a single battle droid in sight. Not even a Sullustan. Anakin frowns. Something isn't right. Someone should be trying to stop him. They sure were trying when he was driving the tank.

He drops off of the topmost catwalk, flips in the air, and lands with a Force-softened thump at the center of the regulator platform. No time to dally: He scans the series of levers in front of him, grabs the most promising of the lot, and pulls. A baritone sigh echoes throughout the chamber as a bar readout on the computer display falls. Emergency output dropping—but the power's still feeding the shields. Anakin frowns. He pulls another lever. Another. Still the power is on. Obi-Wan must be delayed.

"Damn it, Master," Anakin grumbles. He looks over the console once more to make sure there's nothing more he can do here—but then he feels a shift. A gust in the Force, a sharp tug on his feelings like the gut-wrenching drop before a fall, the first breeze hailing a coming storm. Quickly he snaps his lightsaber on and looks around. No droids. No workers. No one.

Anakin looks back to the console. Get in, get out. Who knows what's going on in the battle raging outside. "Come on, come on," he mutters as he examines the console. "I've got to be able to shut the whole thing down from here."

"There will be no need for that, Skywalker."

Anakin whirls around, lightsaber ready. A black-robed shadow drops down at the far end of the catwalk, hood raised. A perfect, Force-softened landing. Then the shadow lowers his hood—and Count Dooku smiles.

"You," snarls Anakin. "Forget this place. Let's finish it all right here, Count. You and me."

"Tap into that hate, boy. Let it flow through you. I can feel it from here," Dooku says. "But you're wrong about now. This is not an ending. Far from it."

"Call it what you want. I'm done with your games."

Dooku shakes his head and paces on the catwalk. "You have no idea of the stakes of those 'games,' Skywalker," he says. He raises his head, his gaze never breaking from Anakin's face. "The war is not going well for the Jedi, is it? But it was never meant to go well for them."

"Tell that to everyone on Sullust in about ten minutes," Anakin says as he takes a step forward. "Is this your idea of winning?"

Dooku chuckles. "A battle, a world. Meaningless to the grand design. Everything is proceeding as I have foreseen."

"Did you foresee what I'm about to do to you?"

"Such anger in you. You cannot hide it, even as you cloak yourself in the veneer of a Jedi. I can feel that rage. Doubtless even the Jedi Council can. You cannot lie to yourself as to your true nature. The Force is with you, young Skywalker, but you are not a Jedi. Even if you think you are," Dooku says. He points at Anakin. "My master saw it in you the very first time he met you, so long ago. Even then your potential was obvious to him. As was your future."

Anakin scowls. "What're you talking about?"

"I will tell you the same truth I told Obi-Wan Kenobi three years ago on Geonosis. He shied away from reality. Hid his face in the Jedi Code and refused to look upon the truth. But I know who you are, Skywalker. I know that you can see the power in truth," Dooku says. "This war is not a natural outbreak, but the last struggle of a thousand-year conflict, the only conflict that has ever mattered—Light and Dark, Jedi and Sith, a fight for control of nothing less than the Force itself. And it was my master who ushered in this final phase, my master, the Dark Lord of the Sith, who oversaw it all from the very heights of power on Coruscant itself." Dooku raises his head as if already triumphant. "Darth—"

"Sidious. I'm aware. All the Jedi are aware," Anakin spits, now pacing himself with his lightsaber aimed at Dooku. "Why doesn't he come out and fight us, too? Why only ever send you?"

"Because he is dead," Dooku says. "Dead at my hand. Once I was but a learner under him. Now I am the master."

"I find that hard to believe."

"Search your feelings. You went to Ziost, did you not? You fought General Grievous there and lost. You know that planet has real power. Old power. Power of the Dark Side. Power that is now mine. The power to see past. Present. Future. Power that let me destroy Darth Sidious, power that made me the Dark Lord of the Sith," Dooku says. Now he offers his hand as if to beckon Anakin forward. "It can be your power too, and with that power we can create an empire that will never be toppled. We will wield time and precognition as our weapons, claim the mantle of the Force itself and put an end to this useless warring, this sparring, this struggle. The galaxy will proceed according our design, in perfect order, forever—and we will, finally, have peace. All you must do is meet your destiny. Join me, Skywalker. Seize the Dark Side. Claim your right. Grab hold of that power—just as Darth Sidious foresaw you would. And as I have foreseen too."

Anakin glowers. "I don't care what you've seen. I will never join you. There's no place for the Sith in this galaxy."

"Don't be so sure," Dooku says, his smile tickling the corners of his eyes. A knowing twinkle. "For years you sought guidance from a Sith Lord. You were all too happy to learn from him."

"What?"

Dooku spreads his arms wide. "I said that my master stood at the heart of galactic power. Darth Sidious. You knew him by a different name. The name the whole galaxy knew him by—the name the Republic now mourns as it stumbles about, leaderless, inept. Their missing, lost Supreme Chancellor. A dead man who no one knows is dead. A Sith Lord who no one but a very select few knew was a Sith." He lowers his head, eyes sinking into shadow. "Palpatine."

Anakin roars. "Liar!"

"Good! Take hold of that anger, Skywalker!" Dooku thunders. "Use it! Let your feelings boil, and look the truth in the eye! It was Darth Sidious who arranged the creation of the clone army, and Chancellor Palpatine who leveraged it! Darth Sidious who controlled the Separatist Alliance, and Chancellor Palpatine the Republic! This war has always been an orchestration. The Jedi, the Senate—all of them blind to reality. You have been blind! But no longer. You know, don't you? Deny it if you will, but you know in your heart of hearts."

Anakin storms towards Dooku. "Not another word!" he booms. "Enough of your lies! I will kill you!"

"On Ziost, I looked into the past. I saw Sidious—Palpatine—take you, only a child lost after leaving Tatooine, under his guidance. Then I looked into the future, and I saw who you will become, the great Sith Lord who will oversee an empire that spans the galaxy," Dooku says. He ignites his lightsaber at last, red glow like a nightmare hue against his black cloak. "Embrace your destiny. Join me. Become the man you were always meant to be. Not as the Jedi, Anakin Skywalker—but a Lord of the Sith. Darth—" he lets it hang— "Vader."

Anakin howls and charges. He crashes down on Dooku, two hands on his saber hilt, hammering on the Sith Lord's guard. Their blades press together, energy and light hissing and snapping. "I'm going to end to this!"

"And end to the Jedi, Anakin Skywalker. A beginning to the real power inside you! You have anger. You have hate. And now—now!—you use them!"

Anakin releases and aims a decapitation strike at Dooku. The Sith Lord spins away, lightsaber flourishing. Anakin charges, stabs, lunges, all offense, rage pushing aside everything, the teachings of the Jedi and the lessons of Obi-Wan silenced before the war-drum thunder pounding in his heart. He strikes, strikes—again, again. Dooku stays just ahead of his blows. Then Anakin roars and throws his lightsaber. It arcs past Dooku—but Anakin stops it in mid-air. He twists the weapon, aiming the blade down, and with one flick of his hand cuts the catwalk from its support beams.

Dooku stumbles. Anakin trips. The two tumble, reaching for grips as metal creaks and groans and the catwalk crumbles. Dooku finds the slightest of footholds, launches, and propels himself up to a higher landing; Anakin is right behind him, lightsaber high, eyes red with blood and frenzy. Dooku fires a blast of lighting and Anakin does not bother to catch it with his lightsaber. The pain is imperceptible; the attack nothing. He reaches out with his hand, wrenches a safety coupling from the thermal exhaust spine, and hurls it at Dooku. The Count wheels and slices, knocking it away. But Anakin's move lets loose a vent of flame from the machinery, and a jet of flame erupts from the metal. Dooku cries out and falls back.

Anakin will not retreat.

He plows through the flame, only barely aware of his tunic catching fire. Dooku swings; Anakin swats the attack away. Dooku jabs, feints, stabs, backpeddles. Anakin moves forward. Attack. Attack. Attack.

There is no mercy here. Nothing held back. Every swing is meant to kill.

As he slams down an overhead slice, Dooku leaps off of the catwalk and lands twenty feet below. Anakin is a step behind. He lands saber-first, driving the weapon into the steel where Dooku was standing a moment before. Dooku drops back. Anakin spots the door behind him leading out of the reactor pit. He reaches out, anger boiling over, and slams the door shut with the Force.

There is something new in Dooku's eyes as the two square off once again. Where it all begins on the path to the Dark Side: Fear. "There is no escape," Anakin growls.

Dooku strikes, his form and technique failing as Anakin drives him back, strength overwhelming skill, raw fury and brutality beating down Dooku's carefully-honed duelist talent. Anakin no longer remembers the battle. He cannot feel the others—Obi-Wan, Ahsoka, Rex. There is only Dooku. Dooku and the death that awaits him. And Anakin can see the shock in his face. The Sith Lord expected him, but he does not know him as he thinks he does. Did you foresee this? "Is your power, My Lord?" Anakin snarls as he backs Dooku down, rage rumbling in every throaty syllable. "Your powers are weak, old man."

"You cannot lie to yourself anymore, Skywalker," Dooku pants. "You feel the Dark Side. You embrace it! The Jedi will not have you. They know. They fear who you will become. Palpatine meant for you to rule at his side as Lords of the Sith—take hold of your destiny and join me as you would have joined him! Take my offer and stand by my side as we rule the galaxy together!"

"The only thing I will take is your head!" Anakin bellows as he raises his saber and strikes.

Dooku dodges away, but he is tiring. Anakin strikes at his legs, sweeps at his arm. Finally, when Dooku is almost pressed back against a wall, he leaps away, somersaulting in the air and landing on a higher catwalk. Anakin turns. "Don't be a fool, Skywalker! You will never realize your potential with the Jedi! You will never become who you were meant to be!"

Anakin does not reply. He aims his lightsaber at Dooku and scowls. Focusing, he wrenches free the bolts beneath Dooku's catwalk. The Sith Lord jumps away, higher again, as the platform falls away into the lava below. Still Dooku tries to appeal to him: "Palpatine knew your strength in the Force. He knew you had fear. He knew you had anger. And he would have taught you how to harness the Dark Side. I can do the same for you."

"Keep making offers," Anakin snarls. "My answer will always be the same: No."

Dooku shakes his head. "Disappointing," he says. "If only you could see, Skywalker. You know what is on Ziost. It waits. The future waits for you to see it."

He throws a door to his right open. Anakin launches his lightsaber. Dooku is just fast enough: He slides through the door and out of the reactor pit as Anakin's blade rips through the catwalk.

Anakin calls the blade back to his hand, but he does not deactivate it. As fire plumes from the reactor spine behind him, he lowers his head, staring into the lava, red and furious and hot. He tightens his grip on his lightsaber. Clenches his fist. Yes, he thinks. I am angry. And I do hate you. And you deserve to suffer.

The future is not yours to show me, Sith. It is mine to make. It has always been mine. And it always will be mine.