A/N: Thank you for reviewing dbreezy93! Feedback is always really appreciated; glad you're all looking forward to Anakin, too, as Act 3 is centered around his next moves with the war entering its next phase (Act 2 soon coming to a close here…)

They reconnoiter in the Concordia base's hanger, all seven of the War Maiden's crew along with Ventress and the Bothan. No casualties, to Tamri's relief, despite the Killiks wreaking havoc throughout the facility. Avea looks less than pleased to see her, however. "This isn't a Tath base at all," she spits when she meets Tamri out of the turbolift from the lower levels. "It's—"

"Republic, I know," says Tamri, holding up a hand to calm the irate Echani down. "Did you find anything in the computer core?"

"Communication logs of a back-and-forth between personnel and some guy named Krennic on Coruscant," Avea mutters, her face gloomy. "All bullshit. Nothing important for me. Dead end."

"It's not a dead end. That is important. I can tell Master Kenobi—"

Avea throws out her hands. "I don't care. If the Arkanians and the Republic are working together, then this whole mission is bullshit. I may as well be working for them. Is there anything they haven't gotten their hands around?" she snaps. She presses her hands to her face and exhales. "Gods. Back to square one."

Tamri holds out the datapad that Fen'leyn gave her down in the labs. "Here."

"What?"

"The Bothan—the survivor—gave me this. He said there's the location of a facility on Manaan where that cruiser that Hosha Tath has was dug up. That's where the Killiks were first found, so maybe we'll find more clues there."

Avea scowls and swipes the datapad away from her. "Is that where we're going next?"

Tamri frets. "Er…I don't know."

"Why? Your Jedi people think the Taths are a problem, don't they? It's why they sent you here."

"It's not that, it's, well," she says, stopping and looking over at Korkie. "I'll talk with Master Kenobi the first chance I get, but…Mandalore, and what we found down in that armory…"

"Oh, I get it," Avea scoffs. "Fine. Do what you want."

"If you want to go, I won't—"

"I'm not running out on you. I've trusted you this far," Avea says, waving the datapad. "If this is worth a damn, I'll keep trusting you. But you better not let me down."

"I won't. Thanks," Tamri says. She hesitates, wondering if she should say more—Avea is shelving her personal goal, her search for her nephew, in order to stay and help. It's more than Tamri can ask for. But before she can continue, the Echani tromps off, following Kesh back to the ship. They have this off-again, on-again truce going, the survivors from Telos. They are neither Jedi nor committed to the Republic, under no obligation to stick with her. Yet they've done just that so far. Gratifying, that feeling. Maybe she can do this after all.

"Everything all right?" Korkie says, sidling up next to her. He nods to the retreating Avea. "She didn't look too happy."

"She's looking for her family. Don't blame her," Tamri says. "I don't blame her."

Korkie shrugs. "Fine. As long as she's not shooting at us, it's better than what was down below," he says. "What's our next move?"

"Those people you contacted—your aunt," says Tamri. "Are they coming?"

"I don't know. I didn't get any reply."

Before Tamri can figure out an alternative course of action, a rumbling and creaking comes from one of the ventilation grates at the far end of the hanger. Ventress ignites her two lightsabers and waves the Bothan towards the War Maiden. "Guests," she murmurs. "Looks like you left some of the bugs alive, Jedi. Get your people out of here. I'll deal with these beasts."

"Korkie, go," Tamri says, lighting her blade. "Tell Neelotas to fire up the ship and make sure everyone else is onboard. I'll buy time until then."

"Forget that," he says, raising his blaster. "Let 'em come."

The vent blows open and a Killik drops out, getting to its feet, raising its claws into an aggressive posture, and hissing. Two more follow it out of the vent. Ventress scowls and levels her lightsabers at them. "Come then, monsters."

The Killiks advance. Three more drop out of the vent, and Tamri's heart thumps. There's a dull howling in her mind, a coming rumbling—but when she focuses and listens, it's not just in her mind. It's in her ears, and it's growing louder.

A blaster shot rings out from behind her, hitting the lead Killik in the face. Tamri looks back. An armored, jetpack-boosted warrior flies through the waterfall and into the hanger, blaster pistol leveled. Another shot, and the Killik falls dead. The gathering insects snap and howl, charging as the warrior lands and levels their gun.

Three more soldiers fly through, blasters firing as the Killiks rush forward. Ventress grabs one of the bugs with the Force and hurls it away, impaling it on a loose piece of rubble. Tamri lowers her lightsaber to intercept a charging Killik, only to watch as one of the armored warriors guns it down with ease—one two three, blaster bolts in a brilliant rhythm of color and sound. In less than fifteen seconds all six Killiks lie dead. The first warrior to enter now levels their blaster at Ventress, who snarls and raises her lightsabers in a cross. "Try it," she growls.

"Wait, wait!" Korkie says, rushing forward and stepping between the two of them. He pauses, holstering his blaster. "Lady Wren?"

The warrior hesitates. Her companions fan out behind her, blasters at the ready. Tamri holds her lightsaber in a death grip. Everyone stay calm. Don't shoot. Don't do anything rash.

"What the hell is going on out here?"

Neelotas steps off of the War Maiden with his rocket launcher shouldered and ready to fire. One of the warriors turns and Tamri rushes up. "Stop, stop!"

Just as things look to go wrong, a fifth armored warrior flies through the waterfall into the hanger and lands at the center of the commotion. Rough blue armor, a missile mounted atop a back-mounted jetpack, twin blaster pistols in her hands. She levels both guns at Ventress as soon as she lands. "I've seen lightsabers that color before," the warrior warns.

"And you survived? Doubtful, Mandalorian," Ventress rumbles. "But go ahead and test your luck. A few more bodies won't concern me."

The Mandalorian rips off her helmet, revealing short red hair, narrowed eyes, and an angular face with a scowl fit for a fight. "Aunt Bo, please, hold on," Korkie says, stepping up.

"Stay back, Korkie," the Mandalorian—Bo-Katan Kryze, Tamri guesses by Korkie's reaction—says, her weapon still trained on Ventress. She nods and says, "The Sith. Maul and Savage. You serve them?"

Ventress looks quizzical—then she laughs. "Here I thought you ran into Dooku," she purrs. "Maul and Savage? Point them out to me and I'll happily gut them. Kenobi may even give me a bonus."

"Kenobi?"

"Please, please," says Tamri, her feet unfrozen, her words coming loose, her tension loosening. "She's with us. Sort of."

"A Jedi?"

Ventress scowls at Tamri. "A ringing endorsement, girl. You're welcome for saving you earlier."

Bo-Katan grabs the arm of the first Mandalorian to enter. "Lower the gun, Ursa. We need to talk, not shoot," the says. Then she sizes up Tamri, looking her over and frowning. "I told Obi-Wan Kenobi to tell the Republic what happened, and he sends me a kid?"

"Aunt Bo, this is Tamri," Korkie says. "Tamri Dallin, she's a Jedi Padawan. Tamri—"

"Enough, Korkie, tell me what's going on," Bo-Katan cuts him off. "Why are you here? I thought you'd run."

"He didn't—" Tamri starts.

"What is this place? And what—" Bo points to the dead Killiks— "are those?"

Korkie looks to Tamri. "Maybe you'd be better off explaining it."

Tamri does her best at summarizing the long-winded tale that brought them all to this ruined hanger. When she speaks of the armory, however, Bo-Katan stops her. "A Basilisk?" she says. "Impossible."

"I saw it in action with my own eyes," Korkie says. "It was impressive. Tore through a whole load of Killiks like paper."

"They were all destroyed in the old Mandalorian Wars. They haven't been seen in ages," Bo says. "And you're telling me a secret Republic weapons lab had one? And right under our nose?" She shakes her head. "Satine didn't keep a close enough watch on this moon. And even Vizsla didn't know the Republic was right here on our turf. Lunacy. Republic, Separatists—we may as well give away Mandalore to the highest bidder at this rate."

Ventress walks up, shouldering her way past Ursa Wren with a look that warns the Mandalorian not to try anything. "What's the situation on Mandalore?" she says. "The Separatists hold the planet—there is a Sith here, isn't there?"

Bo looks between Korkie and Tamri with a frown. "Interesting allies you make, Korkie."

"Like I said, she's with us," Tamri says. "On contract, at least." She looks to Ventress. "I don't know about any sort of Sith here—"

"Maul left," Bo adds. "It's just the droid armies now."

Ventress shakes her head. "I've seen it. I've felt it," she says. "Dooku's new apprentice is here. Somewhere."

Tamri thinks back to the flash of green she saw in Ventress's eyes the first time they met. What else does the former Sith know? Is it some trick of the Dark Side? Something more? "You felt it?"

"A former Jedi named Taron Malicos," Ventress hisses. She looks Bo-Katan over. "A few Mandalorians won't stand a chance."

"I wasn't asking for your input," Bo-Katan says, waving Ventress off. "Korkie, I want to see the Basilisk. We need every weapon we can get. We were joined not long ago by a group of warriors from Onderon—a man named Saw Gerrera's leading them, and he's good—but we need more. As much as we can get."

"Uh—that might be trouble," Korkie says. "The Killiks are swarming all over the base."

"We dealt with these easily enough."

"It was a lot more than six down there."

Tamri waves to the Bothan. "You—Fen'leyn, right? Come over here."

The Bothan, who looks torn between terrified and intrigued, inches closer. "Ah—yes, Jedi?"

"Who's this?" Bo barks. The Bothan shrinks away from her tone.

"I am, ah, research lead. Republic Special Weapons Group," the Bothan says warily. "You want information on Basilisk war droid, yes?"

"How many do you have?" Bo says. "What state are they in? Combat-ready?"

"Ah—we only have the one, in the armory. But—"

Bo grumbles. "Just one?"

"What was that vault on Mandalore itself you mentioned?" Korkie asks the Bothan. "You said there was a whole load of them there."

"Yes, yes—ancient trove of Mandalorian war equipment, old wars. Hidden away."

Bo turns, looking frustrated. "Mandalore wasn't a wasteland during the old wars. That was ancient history. Almost nothing from then's survived."

"Some things built to last, no?" Fen'leyn says. He holds out a datapad, and Bo swipes it from his grasp. "Coordinates, you see. Hidden in an old, burnt-dry river delta. Far from any modern cities. Far from civilization. Far from where Separatists might see you."

Bo looks over it quickly, then hands it to Ursa Wren. "Have a look through that," she says. She points to Korkie. "You. Mandalore still needs you, no matter what you've been doing with the Jedi and the Republic."

"I know, and I'm here for Mandalore," Korkie says. He looks to Tamri. "I have to do this."

"I'll come with you," Tamri says quickly. Bo raises her eyebrows at Tamri's quick response. "I'm a Jedi. I'm supposed to fight the Separatists. And this is for a good cause. My whole ship, my team, we can fight. We can help you. Eh—" she hesitates when she looks at Ventress. "Most of us."

Ventress scoffs. "I wish to speak to Dooku's new apprentice, but if that means fighting alongside the Mandalorians until we destroy enough droids that he comes to us, then so be it," she says. "I'm not about to go singing any revolutionary anthems, though."

"I don't think anyone wants to hear you sing, anyway."

"Don't tempt me, girl. Kenobi didn't say I had to deliver you back to him in one piece."

Bo-Katan scowls, but she motions for her warriors to leave. "Keep a lock on my signal, Korkie," she says. "Follow us in your ship. We'll regroup back at our main base here on Concordia, talk things over with Saw and his people. Then we'll see about this old war vault. If—" she looks dangerously at the Bothan— "and only if there is a whole vault of old Mandalorian war supplies for the taking, then you might've just turned our fight around." She puts on her helmet, jumps, and activates her jetpack, fire pluming across the hanger floor. Then she turns and is gone, jetting away out of the hanger and through the waterfall.

Ventress chuckles. "I almost like her," she says. Then she looks at Tamri and her mirth dissipates. "Almost. Hurry up and get your people together, Jedi. Suddenly I'm interested in seeing where this goes."

"What? Palpatine? Impossible."

Obi-Wan knew revealing Anakin's information would shake the Council. He is less than a hour returned to Coruscant from Sullust and the battle, leaving the planet's occupation in the hands of Quinlan Vos—and already he in a Council meeting. The work of the Jedi Order is an all-day, everyday affair, and it only grows more strenuous as the war drags on. Now more than ever. "That is what Anakin told me. He claimed he met—and fought—Dooku, and that Dooku told him that Palpatine and Sidious are, or were, one and the same."

"He could have easily been lying to deceive Skywalker," Mace Windu says, shaking his head. "Skywalker was always too close to Palpatine. Dooku has to know that."

Obi-Wan looks down. There has always been an air of disapproval around Master Windu regarding Anakin, as if the Jedi Master never believed in the prophecy, in Anakin's ability to bring balance to the Force. In Anakin being anything other than another Jedi, truthfully. And Windu had been against accepting Anakin as a Padawan all those years ago, when Obi-Wan himself was not yet a Jedi Knight. When Qui-Gon was still alive. Now here they are, Windu and Obi-Wan equals as members of the Council, and still they do not see eye-to-eye on Anakin. "With all due respect, Master," he says, "Dooku told me something similar when I was his prisoner on Geonosis at the start of the war. He claimed the Republic was led by the Dark Lord of the Sith—Sidious, he must have meant. If Sidious and Palpatine are the same, then it would line up."

"We can't trust the words of Count Dooku," Ki-Adi-Mundi protests. "He has proven himself to be a thrall of the Dark Side. He is a manipulator, an evildoer. He will use anything, everything against the Jedi."

"Yet insight Dooku had, as a Jedi," Master Yoda murmurs. "Gone that insight is not, even as the Dark Side he embraces. Foolish Dooku is not. Dangerous, young Skywalker's information is. As the Senate is gridlocked, particularly dangerous it is."

Obi-Wan nods glumly. This is the sort of revelation they cannot reveal—not even to their allied senators. Palpatine's disappearance has thrown the Republic's highest orders of governance into turmoil. The truth—even just the rumor—of the Supreme Chancellor being a Sith Lord could bring the Senate crashing down and blow the Republic apart at a time when it feels as fragile as ever.

"Does it matter?" Master Jaro Tapal breaks in. "Master Kenobi—Dooku told you on Mandalore that he was the Dark Lord of the Sith now, did he not?"

"He did," says Obi-Wan.

"Then the situation is the same, minus the Senate," Tapal says. "We are still at war with the Sith. Still facing the Lord of the Sith, even if his clothes and face have changed. Our path is still clear."

Windu nods. "I agree," he says. "With the Senate in its current standstill, we cannot deliver such a divisive revelation to them. It is best if the Jedi keeps this close for now." He leans forward and presses his fingers together. "I may not look kindly upon Grand Admiral Tarkin's words, but he is correct about one thing: At this time, we cannot look to the Senate for guidance. We should not, even. We do not need their approval for military action, and winning this war matters more than bridging our political divide. Dooku, the Dark Side, the droid armies—that is where our focus should be. Once we have defeated the Dark Side, we can look to healing the Senate and the Republic at large. Until then, we have to fight. Master Tiin and I will continue to do what we can in the Senate to keep things civil and prevent any further fractures from opening, but it's on the battlefield that we need to make our stand."

"Speak to young Skywalker, we should," Master Yoda chimes in. "Master Kenobi—returned, has Skywalker, from Sullust?"

"I don't know," Obi-Wan murmurs. "He said he would find his own way back. He was...troubled."

"Troubled, you say?"

"Yes, Master. He did not take Dooku's revelation lightly," says Obi-Wan. That is a polite way of describing Anakin igniting his lightsaber and looking at Obi-Wan as if ready to fight. He could feel the anger surging off of his former Padawan. There is another timeline, he thinks, where things did not end so peacefully. Where he and Anakin crossed blades as the lava geysered and roared behind them. It is only by the will of the Force that it did not happen here.

Master Agen Kolar frowns. "You should have kept him close, Master Kenobi. With your fleet."

"Agreed," Windu says, looking between the two of them. "Skywalker is…tempestuous. Unstable. Dooku knows he is powerful. Dooku wants to use him against us. He has already turned both Taron Malicos and—by your own report, Obi-Wan—Sae Tristess to the Dark Side. And from Padawan Tano's report, this other, fallen Padawan she fought on Sullust, Pella Starseer—Dooku is not even sparing children from the wrath of his ambition. He is taking Jedi and transforming them into his own Sith warriors. Skywalker would be his crowning jewel." He looks about at the Council. "We're not just facing the Separatists. We're facing the gravest threat to the Jedi since the Old Sith Wars. Dooku is making moves like Exar Kun, like Darth Revan and Darth Malak. Like those fallen Jedi of history, he wants to wipe us out."

"Master, Anakin has always fought for the Jedi. For the Republic," Obi-Wan says. That is not a lie—he has fought for them, yes. But Obi-wan can't shake Anakin's words. Democracy died on Geonosis. He believes in his men, in the clone army. Does he believe in the Republic? At all? Even in what Padme fights for?

"Fought, Skywalker has. The future, in doubt may be," Yoda murmurs. "Around Skywalker, the Force swirls. Dark and Light. The potential he has, to save and destroy."

"He is a Jedi. He will do his duty. I know it," Obi-Wan says.

"I hope, Master Kenobi," says Ki-Adi-Mundi, "that you're prepared to be wrong."

Obi-Wan grimaces, Windu's words mixing with Anakin's. Exar Kun. Revan. The strongest Jedi of their ages thousands of years ago, young Jedi of infinite promise. They don't sound like Dooku. They sound, Obi-Wan hates to admit, just like Anakin.

And then they fell to the Dark Side. He cannot let history repeat.

"You have failed me! Look upon the price of failure!"

Pella shrieks as Dooku's lightning courses her body. Sae grips her arms, trembling, unable to act as Dooku tortures the girl. "Do not look away, Sae. I told you to hold that tower. To throw back the Republic. And you failed," Dooku snarls as he unleashes another salvo, eliciting a new round of screams from Pella.

He knows just where to hurt her. He could torture Sae all he wants and she'd barely bat an eyelash. What does she care? Physical pain is nothing at this point, just a blur after watching Tamri die (and then hearing Obi-Wan lie about it—the absurdity of it all, salt in the wound, the Force kicking her when she's down and then laughing about it.) But she can't do anything for Pella now as Dooku launches another wave of lighting at the girl. Attack Dooku and he will strike her down, only to keep torturing Pella. She is helpless. She has always been helpless—back then with Tamri, now with Pella. She's a failure, a failure as a Jedi, a failure as a Sith. A failure, Dooku calls her. But she'll tell herself that over and over—which is exactly what he wants.

Dooku relents and Pella curls up into a ball, moaning and grabbing at her arms as her tunic smokes. "I expect better from you," he growls at Sae. She is a statue. "You are far more promising than Taron Malicos. If anyone has the potential enough to call themselves my apprentice—mine—it is you. Do not fail me again. Do you understand?"

"Yes. My Lord."

He stares just long enough to get the point across before storming out of the lounge here in the Ziost base, just the three of them with Malicos away. They have barely just returned after retreating away from the loss on Sullust. One pain into another, one world at a time.

Sae looks over her shoulder to ensure Dooku is gone. Better, she thinks, never to have been. She called herself a Jedi, but she couldn't cut it in that life. She didn't care about the Light, not truly. The Jedi Code—garbage. She threw it away every time she took a morally questionable action on Nar Shaddaa and Ylesia and other galactic shitholes. She certainly didn't care for Jedi honor when Tamri's safety was at stake. But she's no better as a Sith. She doesn't care about Dooku's dreams of empire. She doesn't care about the power of the Dark Side. It doesn't matter. None of it matters. This battle of the Force, Sith and Jedi, Dark and Light. It's a joke. A show. Better to be born without the Force, an absence in this all-binding field that shackles them with its power, than to wield it. No better a galaxy would there be than one where neither the Jedi nor the Sith existed.

There is only one real enemy to be destroyed, she thinks. It's not the Jedi. Not the Sith. It's the power they share. It's the power that's responsible for all this hurt. Without it they'd just be people like any other.

She helps Pella off of the floor as the girl quivers, trembling at her touch. "Shh, you're okay," Sae says as Pella pulls away from her. She shouldn't care about this girl. She's not Tamri. She's nothing. Nothing. Leave her. She's only something for Dooku to use against you if you care. You went through this once. Don't do it again. But against her better judgment, Sae wraps the girl in a hug as Pella squeaks. "You're okay."

She has to. She needs something. She needs someone to keep back the bleakness of this horrid world.

When she lets her go, Pella is in tears, quivering from the pain. She doesn't deserve this. It wasn't her fault. Hell, it wasn't even Sae's. Dooku brought them to Sullust. He wanted to fight Skywalker. Is Skywalker here now? How'd that go?

But she won't argue; it's pointless. She take s Pella to bed, checks around the base to make sure Dooku's off…somewhere…then walks out into the snowstorm outside. The same storm as always, the cyclone pelting the Celestial's pyramid, the skies tormented and grey, the land white and dead. Sae scowls. It pisses her off. All of it. None of them deserve this.

She picks up a rock and marches towards the pyramid.

Dooku may not want her coming here without his approval, but right now she doesn't care. She walks down those twisting, abhorrent halls, the darkness closing in in its claustrophobic warping. She can feel the howling abomination ahead, but her grip on the rock tightens. Then she is there, there before the Celestial in its sickly, howling, off-yellow insanity, and she walks up to the viewing platform, stares down into the mind-shearing vortex of the ancient madness, and hurls her rock at it.

The rock disappears in the abyss. She feels the Celestial's unseen eye staring through her.

"You think this is funny?" Sae shouts at the ancient horror. "You—you—"

She stops. What did she even come her to say? Her mind is mud. She slumps down, wrapping her hands around her knees, her heart sinking. Damn it all.

The Celestial comes before her, this time in Tamri's form. "Are you starting to regret your choices?" it taunts.

"Piss off. I didn't ask to be born," Sae snaps. "I didn't ask to be a Jedi. I didn't ask to have the Force."

It laughs with Tamri's tinkling laugh. "As if that's where it began! I've been trapped here for thirty thousand years; you haven't even been alive for forty. But oh, if only you looked and saw how it ends."

"I don't want to know."

"Really? Is that what you took away from your meeting with Obi-Wan?"

Sae looks up. The Celestrial smiles with Tamri's smile. Is that how she always looked, Tamri? That little mole over her right eyebrow? Eyes that serene color of blue? That wispy lock of hair defiant as it curls over her temple?

Happy?

She can't even remember. Blazes, why can't she remember?

"You are close now, my son. Soon you will be upon your enemy, and then you will have to choose."

Maul's eyes open. He is aboard one of the commandeered Hardcell-class transports as they now make their way through the heart of Separatist space, the stolen transponder frequencies and the hack against the comms station ensuring no one bothers their infiltration. Closer, closer. Raxus draws closer system by system. The heart of Dooku's nascent empire. He will light it with a match and ignite a bonfire so great the whole galaxy will take note. Still he is troubled—tickled by odd thoughts, dreams, warnings. And now Mother Talzin calls him out of meditation when all he wants is to focus on what is coming. "Mother. What will I have to choose?"

Green light swirls about his spartan room. Mist billows. From nothingness spawns Talzin in her ethereal form, fingertips pressed together, knowing smile on her face. "You are torn between your identities, Maul," she says. "You seek revenge against the Sith, but it is Sidious who destroyed you. Sidious is dead."

"At Tyranus's hand. He stole my vengeance from me."

"Yes, he did. And it is Obi-Wan Kenobi you blame for your misfortune."

Maul snarls. "Kenobi."

"Calm yourself, my son. Kenobi and the Jedi are but players on the stage that is the stars," Talzin says. "Revenge is a meager stew. It quenches no hunger, satisfies none who would dip their spoon. Should you kill Kenobi, kill Dooku, what?"

"I am the Lord of the Sith," he growls. "I will take that which is mine. It is my title. It is what is owed. By right."

"What is owed is what is won. The strong know this; the weak fear this. With their deaths you win only the knowledge that you have killed them. Will Dooku's body and Kenobi's body satisfy you?"

"Yes."

Talzin smiles. "No. It will not."

Maul snarls as he watches Talzin swirl about the room. "How would you know? What Kenobi took from me, what Dooku took from me—they will suffer. I will make them pay."

"And then you will have nothing. Your revenge will be dead, and you will be a husk. With nothing more than bodies to guide you, you will be weak again. Is that the legacy of the Sith you seek?" Talzin says. "No, Maul. You and Savage are the sons of Dathomir. You are the heir to a legacy much, much older and greater than any Sith lordship you imagine. The Sith are but a distraction. You must seek more. Dream bigger. Understand a power far greater than the toys of the Force." She smiles. "And know who is your ally and who is your enemy."

"What are you saying?"

"The Jedi," Talzin says. "You must see them not as mere enemies but as useful tools."

Maul bares his teeth. "No."

"They are Sidious's enemy. Dooku's enemy."

"They are Kenobi's people!"

"And they are tools, all the same. The Sith are blinded by their hatred. You must be strategic, calculating. You must know when to set aside such childish notions. If you wish to truly become master of all this mortal coil—if you wish to master the Force in all its aspects—you must view the Sith and the Jedi as no more than two sides of a prism with infinite reflections," Talzin says. "You are so much more than a man of mere hatred, my son. Dooku is a Sith Lord, but only another player. Know that there is one far, far more powerful than Dooku in this galaxy. Know that to grasp the Force, to wield it, you must see its every angle."

Talzin cups her hand before her mouth and blows. The mist before her curls, coalesces. Forms a figure. Maul draws back. He knows who it is.

Skywalker.

"The heart of Dathomir beats within you. The blood of the Force runs through your veins," Talzin says as she swirls around Maul. "Face Dooku. Seize what you would seize. Claim the mantle of the Sith if you must. But know that there is so much more than the Sith that could be yours. Only when you see enough to free yourself from the shackles Sidious bound you with will you know this in your heart." She dissipates, and the mist wreathes him like a cloak. "There is a last sister of Dathomir. There will be a time when she calls for you. And when that time comes, remember who you are. Who you have been. Who you could be."

Then she is gone, the mist gone, the light gone. There is merely Maul and the metal of his empty room. He stands. Balls his fists.

He is a Sith. He is the Dark Lord. He will kill Dooku and rule the Dark Side uncontested, as is his due.

And then…then.

Then he will see.