Force Shadow

by RurouniNoKage

Both the Jedi and the Sith make one fundamental mistake – the Force is not purely dark or light. There is many shadows and shades of grey. Finding the balance between them while staying true to the greater good is the true challenge for a Jedi to face /Prequels AU/ thanks to SeverusSnapers and Yesac for inspiration / In progress / rated M for language and graphic content

28. Coruscant Inferno

Answers to reviews

Dear Guest,

Ah, that's interesting – I hadn't known that Sidious didn't regard essence transfer as a viable option. Sidious' false promises to Anakin in that regard are better portrayed in the novelization of ROTS than they are in the movies, since only in the book does Palpatine/Sidious admit - near the very end, and after it is too late for Skywalker - that he needs Anakin's help to even gain that knowledge.

Your wording of Kenshin Kano having "socialized" with Palpatine made me chuckle, since at first, I took that expression literally. Kenshin is as socially awkward, solitary and reserved as it gets and avoids "socializing" like a vampire flees the sunlight. But I get what you mean. The explanation, however, lies quite close. Kenshin himself has the power of Force stealth, the ability to mask his entire presence from other Force-sensitives - and Sidious has this power, too.

Dear monkeywrench and dear scarease – Thank you for your reviews!

Credit where credit's due: parts of this chapter were inspired by the K-drama "Moonlight Drawn by Clouds', with the chapter's title referencing the movie 'Kyoto inferno', and direct quotes and text passages were, again, included from the novelization of ROTS by Matthew Stover. There is also a slight reference to a certain Game of Thrones scene. A little cringe perhaps, but I enjoyed that scene too much, I couldn't help it.

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~ 28 ~

Coruscant Inferno

- What burns brighter – the fires ravaging this temple, or the flames devouring your soul? -

---

Anakin jumped to his feet and bolted out of the cell, startling the two temple guards stationed at Kenshin's confinement unit. He could have slapped himself. Kenshin was bloody right. Why had he never thought of this before?

A quick search through his master's old room didn't bear any results – Roku, Kenshin's astromech, wasn't there, neither was the transponder. A few clothes, two blankets and a pillow on the deserted sleeping mat had been all that was left, and it was covered in dust webs.

He tasked R2 with contacting Roku. Once more he was glad that he had not ever deleted anything off R2's memory, so his mechanic friend still had a caller ID over which he could connect to Kenshin's droid.

Much to his surprise, the trace led to the common sleeping quarters of an initiate clan. Gently knocking and being granted entry, he found an Echani girl, polishing Roku's domed head.

"Hello, Master Skywalker." she greeted him with a questioning glance.

"Hello, Nari."

Anakin wasn't sure how to address this…"Uhm, I'm sorry to interrupt. Do you think I could borrow the droid for a moment? I need his help, and it's very urgent!"

"Am I in trouble? I found him abandoned in the main hangar, and then he kept following me around…and I didn't do anything with him, I just thought he could use some cleaning and whatnot."

"No, you're good, you're not in trouble at all! I just need him for a second, would that be ok? It won't take long!"

She nodded. "Where is Master Kenshin?"

"I'm sorry, I really don't have much time right now! Hey, Roku….you wouldn't know where Kenshin kept his transponder for the artefact vault in the archives? He sends me to retrieve it!"

The astromech spun his head. "Iiiiiiiiihhhhhh…..ouuuuuhhhhhhh". Was that a yes or a no?

"Ouch!"

A small object had hit him in the head and had dropped to the floor. He picked it up and smiled. "Thanks, buddy!"

The droid then chirped quietly. He hadn't realized that a droid could sound so sad.

"See, Roku is sad. He misses Master Kenshin, too."

"Keep him. I'm sure Kenshin would want you to have him."

"Where is Kenshin? What happened to him? You know it, but you're not telling me! Why?"

Nari's large, silver eyes locked onto Anakin's. Her small hands clutched the rag she had been using to polish Roku's dome.

Anakin froze. He really, really had to hurry! But the earnestness in Nari's eyes held him in place.

"Nari…" Anakin began, his voice faltering slightly. What could he tell her? How could he handle this? He struggled to find the right words, words that wouldn't shatter the young girl's faith in the Order, in her training, in her mentors.

"Kenshin… Master Kenshin is… away right now. He's not here at the temple."

She frowned, tilting her head slightly. "Away? Where did he go? Is he on a mission? Will he come back soon? He's been gone for so long now!"

Anakin's heart ached. He could see the hope in her eyes, the trust she had in him to tell her the truth. But how could he? How could he explain that the man she looked up to was now a prisoner in the very temple she called home, for deeds that were too terrible for her to comprehend? And that he, Anakin, was about to use Kenshin's secrets to delve into forbidden knowledge?

"He… he had to leave for something very important," Anakin said, forcing a small, reassuring smile onto his face. "I'm not sure when he'll be back."

She didn't buy it, not in the slightest. Internally, he grimaced. This youngling was far too clever!

"I know something's wrong… Why can't you tell me what's really happening?"

Anakin's breath caught in his throat. He couldn't bear to lie to her, but the truth was something she couldn't possibly understand—something he wasn't even sure he fully understood himself. He knelt down to her level, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"Nari, I wish I could tell you everything," he said, his voice heavy with regret. "But sometimes… sometimes there are things we can't talk about, things that are too complicated, too dangerous. It's not because I don't want to tell you, but because I need to protect you."

Nari's eyes filled with tears, and she blinked them back. "But Master Kenshin… He said the truth is important, even if it's hard. Why can't you be like him?"

Anakin's heart twisted painfully at her words. The truth… the very thing that Kenshin had always insisted on, the very thing that now hung in the balance. Time was slipping away!

"I know, Nari," he whispered, his voice raw with emotion. "And I'm trying to find the truth too. But right now, I need to hurry. I promise, when I can, I'll explain everything. But for now… just know that Master Kenshin cared about you."

"You talk as if he died!" she cried out. "What happened? Tell me! Tell me now!"

"He didn't die, he's alive! He is on a covert mission!" Anakin tried to comfort her. It was a very far stretch from the truth, but as close as he dared to get. "And he would want you to be strong. Can you do that for him? For me?"

Nari nodded slowly, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. "Yes, Master Skywalker… I can be strong."

"Thank you," Anakin said, giving her shoulder a gentle squeeze before standing up. He turned to Roku, his mind already racing ahead to what he needed to do. "I'll take care of things, I promise!"

With the transponder in hand, Anakin hurried out of the room. He had to uncover the truth before it was too late.

Anakin moved quickly through the temple, as quickly as he could without rising suspicion. Kenshin's transponder was a key—one that could unlock the secrets he needed to protect Padmé, to ensure the future he so desperately wanted. The corridors of the Jedi Temple were quiet at this early hour, the only sound being the soft hum of the lights as they flickered to life ahead of him. His footsteps faintly echoed as he proceeded toward the restricted vaults where the most dangerous and forbidden artifacts were kept.

The vaults were guarded by layers of security—physical, electronic, and Force-based. But with Kenshin's transponder, each barrier receded swiftly, and at last he approached the final barrier. Of course, he had considered slicing his way in more often than not. But it was impossible, even for him. Ever since Cad Bane had broken into the archives, the security measures had been triple reinforced and rendered even more complex than before.

Inside, the air felt thick with the weight of history and secrets, an oppressive energy buzzing with the latent power of the dark side. Anakin hesitated only briefly before pressing the transponder to the access panel. The door slid open with a quiet hiss, revealing a long, dimly lit aisle lined with cabinets and shelves. As he stepped inside, the door closed behind him with a soft click, sealing him off from the world outside.

His eyes scanned the rows of cabinets as he ventured deeper into the collection, searching for the one Kenshin had mentioned. Here, the darkness seemed almost alive, the artifacts emanating a malevolent energy that sent a chill down his spine. He forced himself to push the feeling aside and focused on his goal.

The holocron of Darth Andeddu... Anakin's heart quickened as he finally spotted the cabinet at the aisle's end. Reaching out, he activated the door, which slid open with a soft whisper, revealing the holocron within. The small, ancient device was etched with intricate Sith runes, pulsing faintly, a dark light flickering at its center as though aware of his presence.

For a moment, an inexplicable pull drew his gaze to the cabinet beside it. Stored there were two fragments of the Nanta artifact—a relic shrouded in myth. A third fragment presumedly existed, but Kenshin had never found it.

Anakin couldn't shake the feeling of attraction toward it, a strange compulsion that unsettled him. Was he simply fascinated by the artifact's mystery, or was something in it reaching for him?

He remembered the mission to Kenshin's enigmatic homeworld, a place laced with strange energies unlike any he'd felt before. And then, there was the prophecy surrounding the artifact… Something about it had hinted at power so immense, it had terrified its creators.

The Nanta artifact had been crafted millennia ago by a tribe of Force wielders on Kenshin's homeworld—beings who were neither Jedi nor Sith, but something older, their wisdom as boundless as the mountains they dwelled in. They had intended the artifact as a conduit, a tool to channel healing and life-giving energy from the Force itself. But they soon came to understand a darker truth: the artifact, like the Force, was bound to no single purpose. In the wrong hands, it could be twisted into a weapon of unfathomable destruction, capable of snuffing out life as effortlessly as it had once restored it.

Terrified by its dual nature, the tribe had made a desperate attempt to destroy it, but even their power had failed. So instead, they shattered it, scattering the pieces to distant corners of the galaxy, hoping that the fragments would never be reassembled.

A key to create or destroy

All life of the galaxy entire..

Anakin recalled the prophecy's first lines. Kenshin had never put much stock in prophecies, and yet... he'd taken extraordinary measures to uncover the artifact's secrets. It was no ordinary artifact. It was a source of immense power, teetering on the knife's edge between creation and annihilation. His former Master had considered it a threat beyond comprehension, one worth chasing to the farthest reaches of the galaxy. Then the war began, and the pursuit was abandoned.

Anakin frowned. How could an artifact possess such power? Holocrons he understood; they stored knowledge. But artifacts? He knew almost nothing of ancient Force relics, and less still about dark side artifacts. Archaeology, and the deeper mystery of ancient relics had always been Kenshin's domain.

Everything made as little sense now as it had back then, and his mind focused back onto what he had come for in the first place.

Anakin's hand trembled as he reached for it, his mind racing with possibilities. This… this could be it. The key to saving Padmé, to unlocking the power I need. He lifted the holocron carefully, the weight of it heavier than he expected, both physically and in the Force.

But before he could delve into the secrets it held, a sharp beep from his comlink snapped him back to reality.

Anakin's heart sank, a sense of dread settling over him.

Not now. Not when I'm so close.

He activated it, his breath catching as Master Windu's voice came through.

"Skywalker, report to the council chambers immediately. It's urgent."

The call had truly come at the worst possible moment, but there was no choice. He had to go. With a reluctant sigh, he carefully placed the holocron back in the cabinet, closing the door behind him. He couldn't risk being discovered with it, not yet. But he would return, he vowed to himself. He would find a way to unlock its secrets.

The journey back to the council chambers felt like an eternity, every step filled with frustration and impatience. When he finally arrived, the council members were already seated, their expressions grave. Master Windu, seated near the center, gestured for him to take his place.

"Skywalker, we've just received an urgent report from Utapau," Windu began without preamble. "General Kenobi has engaged General Grievous."

Anakin's breath caught in his throat. Obi-Wan has found him… Relief and concern battled within him. Relief that the war might finally be nearing its end, concern for Obi-Wan, who was now facing one of the most dangerous beings in the galaxy, and Anakin wasn't sure if his friend was up to the task.

"The Chancellor must be informed immediately," Windu continued, his gaze piercing as it fixed on Anakin. "You are to deliver the news personally."

Anakin nodded, already anticipating the order. "Yes, Master."

Windu's expression darkened slightly, his tone becoming more pointed. "There is more. The Council has sensed… disturbances in the Force. We need to know how the Chancellor reacts to this news. Gauge his response carefully, Skywalker. Report back to us as soon as you can."

Anakin hesitated, the weight of the request pressing down on him. Gauge his reaction? The implication was clear—the council still didn't fully trust Palpatine, and they were asking Anakin, his closest confidant, to spy on him once more. The resentment flared within him, but he forced it down, nodding again.

"I understand, Master Windu," he said, his voice steady despite the turmoil within him. "I'll do as you ask."

"Good," Windu replied, his expression remaining stern. "May the Force be with you, Skywalker."

Anakin bowed, the formalities feeling hollow in the face of what he was about to do. As he left the council chambers, the forbidden knowledge of the holocron, the Chancellor's trust, and his own conflicted loyalties pressed down on him, pulling him in every direction at once.

I have to do this. I have to find the truth, no matter what it takes. With that thought, he made his way to the Chancellor's office, steeling himself for what was to come.

You must trust in your own judgement

Believe in yourself, in your own strength

Both Palpatine and Kenshin had told him that.

But Kenshin had said more…

You're the Chosen One…. But were any of your choices ever truly your own?

Kenshin had also said:

You were always good enough!

Anakin pondered over these words as he walked. Maybe I should do exactly that – trust my own judgment, and make my own choices. Now if I'm a puppet, if I want to cut free, I must know who's pulling the strings, and to find out, I must follow the strings… he thought.

If only it were that easy. Anakin's mind spun with the weight of the Council's orders, the fear for Padmé's life, and Kenshin's revelations, all swirling in a turbulent whirlwind. As he entered the Chancellor's office, the dim lighting and shadowy décor seemed to reflect the confusion within him. Chancellor Palpatine stood near the large window, hands clasped behind his back as he gazed out at the Coruscant skyline.

"Ah, Anakin," Palpatine said without turning around. "I trust the Council has sent you with important news."

Anakin approached, struggling to suppress the conflict churning inside him. "Yes, Chancellor. General Kenobi has engaged General Grievous on Utapau."

Palpatine turned, his expression a mask of calm interest. "Then the war may finally be nearing its end." He paused, studying Anakin. Carefully gauge his reaction, Master Windu had said. But, with an unsettling calm, Palpatine barely reacted at all.

"Sir, Chancellor," Anakin said, shifting his weight. "Perhaps you didn't hear me. Obi-Wan has made contact with General Grievous. They're fighting right now."

"Yes, Anakin, I heard you well," Palpatine replied smoothly. "Let us hope Master Kenobi is up to the task."

It was as if he barely cared. "Sir, this means the war is nearly over—our final victory!" Anakin pressed.

"Does it?" Palpatine at last turned to face him. "I'm afraid, my boy, that Grievous and this war have become only... a distraction."

"A… distraction? What do you mean?"

"The Council is preparing to make its move," Palpatine said, his tone grave. "If we do not stop them, by this time tomorrow, the Jedi will have taken over the Republic. And I will be the first one to be arrested."

Anakin froze, Palpatine's words barely making sense. Yes, the relationship between the Council and the Chancellor had been strained—but the Jedi still fought for the Republic, the same Republic Palpatine was meant to protect. How could Palpatine even believe this?

"But… no! That's impossible. I'd know if the Council had such intentions. The Jedi are dedicated to the Republic. And even if they weren't, the Senate would never allow it!"

"The Senate will be powerless to stop it!" the Chancellor said sharply. "Here—" he rummaged around within his desk for a moment, then brought forth a document. "Do you know what this is?"

Anakin recognized the sigil on it. "Yes, sir, that's the petition of the two thousand..."

"No, Anakin, NO!" Palpatine raised his voice loud enough to make Anakin jump. "THIS—" Palpatine held it up to Anakin's nose—"is a roll of traitors! There are two kinds of senators now—those whose names are on that list, and those the Jedi are about to arrest!"

Anakin could only stare, his thoughts immediately drifting to Padmé. How much trouble is she in?

"This…this is Senator Amidala's sigil. Maybe a great deal of senators are corrupt, but... I don't sense any betrayal in Senator Amidala!" he pressed out. He pressed a hand to his forehead. His dizziness was getting worse. When had he last eaten? Probably even before the last time he had slept. "She just couldn't..."

"Of course she could," Palpatine said, all of a sudden very calmly. "It doesn't mean the two of you can't be happy together."

"What? What do you mean?" In the frame of a few seconds, the room seemed to grow even darker.

"Anakin—aren't we past the point of playing childish games with each other? I know, Anakin. I have always known. Padmé was my Queen! Naboo is my home! Don't you think I have friends among the civil clergy in Theed? Your secret ceremony was never secret. At least not from me. I have always been happy for you both."

Palpatine's voice had become fatherly and soft. "Please, sit, my boy. May I offer you anything to drink? You look rather unwell."

Anakin's mind raced. Palpatine knew about him and Padmé? Why had he never told Anakin that he knew? Why hadn't Palpatine trusted him, nor offered to help keep them safe? Why bring this up only now?

Anakin's gaze fell, heavy with doubt, to the floor. It was as if Palpatine had been holding onto this knowledge, wielding it, waiting for some advantage. Just as he had withheld the truth about Kenshin's torture… A shiver crawled down his spine

Anakin sank into the nearest chair.

The Chancellor had known… and he had waited to reveal it. Palpatine knew the art of biding his time...If he had known all this time, why had he never offered to help? If he had known all along, why speak of it now?

"Don't be afraid, Anakin. Have you ever needed to keep a secret from me? You can let yourself out, Anakin! It's quite simple: tell me what you really, truly, want!"

"I don't understand."

"I am offering you... anything!"

What is going on here? Anakin wondered. Has he gone mad? He stared out of the window, stars beginning to shimmer in the twilight of the setting sun. A constellation he recognized hung above the spires of the Jedi Temple, sharp against the darkening sky. He wanted this war to end, he wanted his head to stop spinning, he wanted Padmé to live – he wanted to return to the temple, and study the holocron, the forbidden knowledge Kenshin had at last shown him the way to. What was going on here? Why was Palpatine bringing up every single thing that troubled him? Defiantly, he shot Palpatine a sithly glare.

"What I want? Ok then...what if... what if I went along with Padmé and her friends? If I wanted to end the war?"

"Would tomorrow be too soon?"

If only the fog inside his head would lift, if only he could think clearly, if only the nightmares about Padmé's death would stop screaming inside his mind.

"How could you even do that?" he inquired.

"Right now we're only discussing the what. We will be coming to the how shortly."

"And what would I have to do in exchange?"

"You'd have to do what you want!"

At this point, he stared at Palpatine as if he were a Hutt wearing a Twi'lek dancing costume.

"Yes, only that." Palpatine continued calmly. "You'd have to do what the Jedi fear most: make up your own mind. I know you burn for greater power than any Jedi can wield, but you must allow yourself to gain that power." Palpatine stepped closer and brought his arm around Anakin's shoulders. "I know what you truly want," he all but whispered into his ear. "You can have every one of your dreams. Leave the Jedi. Join me on the path of true power. Be my friend, Anakin. Be …my apprentice!"

Anakin's vision tunneled, but there was no light at the end of this tunnel.

"I can help you save her!" the luring voice went on. "The saga of Darth Plagueis was no mere myth—he was real, Anakin. He was my master!"

The power dragging him down the tunnel became overwhelming, pressing him down. Without knowing how he had moved, he found himself suddenly standing, his blue lightsaber with its tip hovering only centimeters from Palpatine's chin. Suddenly, everything made sense.

"You..." he growled. "It's been you, all along...you..." Anakin growled, the realization hitting him like a blast from a turbolaser. His grip on his lightsaber tightened, the blue blade humming dangerously close to Palpatine's throat. A cold shiver ran down his spine, yet his skin burned as if a fire had ignited beneath it. The room, once merely dim, now felt suffocating—like the very air was poisoned by betrayal. Everything he had known, everything he had trusted, was collapsing around him.

"You're the one who murdered my mother!" His growl grew louder, and more menacing, with every word.

Palpatine's eyes widened with a feigned look of innocence, and he spoke in a tone of genuine confusion, "Why, Anakin, would you accuse me of such a thing?"

"Because Kenshin found out!" Anakin spat, his voice trembling with fury. "He discovered that Darth Sidious was behind it, orchestrating my mother's abduction... her torture... her death! And now I know it was you!" The heat intensified. Tears welled in his eyes. "How could you? Why? You knew how much she meant to me, how much I missed her, how guilty I felt for leaving her behind to become a Jedi, how…HOW COULD YOU!"

Palpatine's expression softened, his voice taking on a tone of gentle persuasion. "Anakin, my dear boy. My son! I believe you have fallen victim to yet another scheme. I know indeed how much she meant to you, how you loved your mother, how much you missed her, and I mourned with you, when you told me about the cruel fate she had to endure. Your former Master, Kenshin, was a good man! Yes, he was a good man, and having transformed himself into the Ghost, trying to rid the galaxy of evil and end the war, he has proven greater foresight and wisdom than the entire Jedi Order. I harbour no hard feelings against him for targeting me in my role of the Chancellor, whom he must have seen as a symbol for everything that was wrong with the Republic. I hold no grudge against him, on the contrary - I admire him. But even he did not fully see through the lies of the Jedi. This was merely another scheme and attempt by the Jedi to manipulate you, to turn you against me—the one who truly cares for you! The Jedi have always feared your power, your strength, and constantly and desperately sought ways to control you, for their own gain. It is them you must blame, not me!"

Anakin's breath came in ragged gasps, his emotions raging inside him. "But you... you're the Sith Lord, and you kept it from me. You kept it secret that you were Sidious."

Palpatine's voice softened, almost paternal. "Anakin, oh Anakin... You, husband to Padmé, are the last man who has a right to be angry at someone for keeping a secret. What else was I to do?"

The lampdisks overhead flared to full brightness, casting the office in an unnervingly ordinary light. The room seemed to mock the extraordinary truth that had just been revealed.

"Corruption had made the Republic a cancer in the body of the galaxy, and no one could burn it out. Not the Judicials, not the Senate, not the Jedi Order itself. I was the only one skilled and strong enough for this task, the only one who even dared to attempt it. Without my little deception, how should I have cured the Republic?"

Anakin's mind whirled. "And that's why you brought war, and endless suffering to billions? Snuffed out entire populations, devastated entire planets?"

Palpatine looked at him, smiling, warm and kindly. "If only you knew how I longed to tell you, all these years, waiting, biding my time, until you were finally ready to understand who you truly are, and your true place in the history of the galaxy—the heir to my power and my knowledge!"

"I am not..." Anakin stuttered, his voice faltering. "I am not... I cannot be on your side! I am not... evil..."

"Who said anything about evil? This war, as cruel as it has undoubtedly been, was necessary to cleanse the galaxy from all the rot and the sickness that has flourished through the greed and corruption. Now, I will at last bring peace. Is bringing peace evil? I also offer you the power to save Padmé... is that evil?"

The world under Anakin's feet had stopped turning.

I don't know what to do…Kenshin…he would only tell me to kill the Chancellor. Obi-Wan is off planet…Yoda is on Kashyyk…I don't know who to turn to, I don't know what to do!

This situation wasn't a lightsaber duel. This wasn't a battle, where his cunning strategic mind could find ways out of impossible situations. This wasn't a pod-race. These were the strings of the puppet master, and while he finally knew who this puppet master was, the strings were so interwoven, so complex…he couldn't see a way through. The Force? He couldn't feel it, he couldn't see! There was so much pain, so much chaos, so much…fear!

"I... I will turn you over to the Jedi Council! They'll know what to do!"

Palpatine smiled, a knowing look in his eyes. "Of course, Anakin. You will do what you believe is right. But you're not sure of their intentions, are you? Remember, I possess the knowledge to save the one you love. If they kill me, that knowledge will die with me. Take your time. Meditate on it. I'll still be here when you decide."

---

Anakin didn't care to knock or announce himself - he simply busted the door open and rushed in.

Master Windu and several other Council members were gathered, discussing something in low tones. Windu looked up as Anakin approached, his expression stern and somewhat disapproving.

"Skywalker," Windu greeted, a hint of admonishment in his voice. "What is it?"

"Master Windu," Anakin began, his voice strained. "I have discovered the truth... Chancellor Palpatine... is the Sith Lord we've been searching for. He is Darth Sidious."

The room fell silent. Windu's eyes widened slightly, but he quickly masked his surprise.

"This is a grave accusation, Skywalker," Windu said slowly. "Are you sure? If what you say is true, then Palpatine has deceived us all."

Anakin nodded, his face pale. "He's been playing both sides of the war, manipulating everyone—us, the Senate, the Separatists. He admitted it to me himself."

Anakin's chest was heaving. Windu's expression hardened, and he exchanged a look with the other Council members. "If what you say is true, then our worst fears have been realized. We must move quickly, to confront the Chancellor, if this is true, and to arrest him!"

Anakin stepped forward. "Master Windu, I have to go with you. The Chancellor is very powerful. He has been trained in the ways of the dark side. You'll need my help if you're going to arrest him!"

"For your own good, stay out of this affair. I sense a great deal of confusion in you, young Skywalker."

Anakin blinked, caught off guard. "But—"

"You are too close to this," Windu interrupted, his voice firm. "Too emotionally involved. Your judgment is clouded. If what you say is true, you are in danger of falling under his influence. We cannot risk that."

Anakin's heart pounded in his chest, frustration and desperation clawing at him. "I'm the one who discovered the truth! I need to be there—I can help!"

Windu's gaze was steely, unwavering. "You have done your duty by informing us. Now, trust in the Council to do what must be done. Stay here, Skywalker. That is an order."

Anakin's hands clenched into fists at his sides, his anger simmering just beneath the surface. But he forced himself to nod, his voice tight with barely contained emotion. "Yes, Master."

Windu studied him for a moment longer, as if weighing the danger Anakin might pose, then turned to the other Council members. "Let us go. The Chancellor will not give up his power willingly."

---

Kit Fisto, Agen Kolar and Saesee Tiin, alongside himself, represented some of the finest the Order had to offer. For a fleeting moment, while they were marching towards the hangar to board a shuttle to the Senta building, Mace's thoughts had drifted to another, powerful Force-wielding being, currently held in the temple's cells. He had quickly concluded that this, too, was too dangerous of a choice. The risk of things going terribly wrong, were they to release Kenshin Kano, the Ghost, was much too high. He couldn't be sure about his true intentions, and releasing a criminal of the highest order could entail consequences he didn't even dare imagine. He would surely be able to eliminate Sidious, if Skywalker was even right, but what then? Furthermore, the first plan was to arrest Palpatine, not outright kill him. This was not the Jedi way!

No, using the Ghost as a weapon would have required a great deal of careful consideration, and right now, they did not have that time.

---

Mace led the way, his jaw clenched, his gaze hard as durasteel. His three companions followed, their expressions mirroring the gravity of the moment. The quiet hum of the Senate building was almost oppressive.

The doors to Palpatine's office slid open with a cold hiss, revealing the spacious, dimly lit chamber. Elongated shadows stretched across the polished, reflective floor, gleaming like obsidian. Tall windows lined the far wall, showcasing the neon sprawl of Coruscant's skyline, the lights casting a cold, unnatural glow that seeped into the room like the reach of a sinister presence.

As they entered, they found Palpatine seated behind his desk, his hands folded neatly, as if he had been expecting them all along. The office seemed to tighten around him, as though even the architecture of the room conformed to his dark, coiled presence. Behind him, tall, dark red banners embroidered with the Republic's insignia hung in stark, oppressive silence, casting a deep, crimson hue over the scene. The shadows, layered by the dim lighting, seemed to writhe slightly around his figure. The harsh overhead lights carved sharp lines into Palpatine's features, exaggerating the ridges of his cheekbones, the intensity of his gaze. As the Jedi entered, he lifted his chin slowly.

"Mace Windu," Palpatine greeted, his voice calm, resonant in the silence. His gaze slid across the Jedi, as though evaluating them one by one, his face devoid of any true warmth. "To what do I owe the honor of four Jedi Masters in my office?"

Mace didn't waste time on pleasantries. "In the name of the Galactic Senate of the Republic, you're under arrest, Chancellor."

Palpatine tilted his head, his expression a mask of mild surprise. "Arrest?" he asked, his voice soft, silken with a subtle edge of mockery. "And on what grounds, may I ask, Master Windu?"

Windu's voice was unyielding. "Your crimes are clear, Chancellor. Treason against the Republic. You are a Sith Lord—the very mastermind behind the war, and the suffering of billions."

Palpatine's eyes narrowed, his mouth forming a small, bemused smile. "Treason, Master Jedi? Are you certain? And as for the Sith…" His voice turned mocking, almost a whisper, "…surely you wouldn't expect the Senate to take such... wild accusations without evidence?"

Kit Fisto, unable to contain himself, stepped forward, his voice low and fierce. "We have all the proof we need, Chancellor."

Palpatine let out a low chuckle, spreading his hands in an almost amused surrender. "Proof, is it?" He leaned forward, his fingers curling against the edge of the desk. "Strange... that four Jedi Masters would storm the Chancellor's office without so much as a mandate from the Senate." His smile widened, his gaze dancing with malice. "It would almost appear as if you were the ones plotting against the Republic."

The Jedi tensed, recognizing the deadly trap concealed within his words, and Windu's hand tightened on his lightsaber. "We're done with your lies, Sidious," he said coldly. "This ends here."

Palpatine's smile widened, his gaze shifting slowly over each Jedi before him. "Are you threatening me, Master Jedi?"

Agen Kolar stepped forward, lightsaber at the ready. "The Senate will decide your fate, Chancellor."

Palpatine's chuckle was low and mocking. "I am the Senate."

Windu's expression hardened. "Not yet."

For a moment, silence reigned, the air thick with tension. Then, in a motion almost too fast to follow, Palpatine's hands shot out from his robes, and two blood-red lightsabers ignited with a hiss.

He leapt across the desk, spinning like a whirlwind of crimson fury. The Jedi were ready, their own lightsabers igniting with a synchronized hum. The clash was immediate and brutal, the sound of lightsabers crashing against each other filling the room with a cacophony of light and energy. Windu's purple blade moved with controlled precision, countering Sidious's raw aggression, while Kit Fisto and Agen Kolar flanked him, their attacks coordinated and relentless.

Palpatine was fast, faster than any opponent they had ever faced. He seemed to anticipate their every move, his strikes both vicious and calculated. In a matter of moments, his lightsaber found its mark, slashing across Kolar's chest. Agen collapsed, his weapon slipping from his hand as he fell to the ground, motionless.

Kit Fisto grimaced but held his position, his green blade dancing through the air as he attacked with renewed determination. Windu could feel the darkness radiating from Sidious like a wave, suffocating and thick. He tightened his grip on his saber, forcing his focus to remain sharp even as Sidious cut down Saesee Tiin with a ruthless strike, leaving only himself and Kit Fisto.

"Fools," Sidious sneered, his voice dripping with contempt. "Did you truly believe you could defeat me?"

Windu and Fisto moved as one, their sabers flashing, their minds and movements in perfect sync. But Sidious was merciless, his attacks pushing them back, his laughter ringing out as if he were toying with them. And then, in a brutal arc of his crimson saber, he struck down Kit Fisto, who fell with a gasp, his lightsaber clattering to the ground.

Now it was only Windu, his heart pounding, his mind focused as he squared off against the Sith Lord alone.

"You're finished, Sidious," Windu said, his voice steady, though every nerve in his body was on edge.

Sidious grinned, his yellow eyes gleaming with malice. "You have no idea what you're dealing with, Jedi."

The duel resumed, a fierce exchange of power and skill. Sidious was fast, but Windu matched him, anticipating his movements, countering with the precision of Vaapad, channeling the darkness back against the Sith Lord. With a final, powerful strike, Windu disarmed Sidious, sending his lightsaber spinning across the room. Sidious stumbled back, his face twisted in anger and desperation as he fell to the floor.

Windu raised his lightsaber, pointing it directly at the Sith Lord's throat. "It's over."

Sidious's face contorted, and he threw his hands up, lightning sparking from his fingers. Windu caught it with his lightsaber, deflecting the energy back at the Sith Lord. Sidious shrieked as his own lightning was turned against him, his face twisting in pain, his features beginning to melt under the onslaught.

---

Anakin paced the hall outside the main Council chamber. His heart pounded with a relentless urgency, his instincts screaming for him to act. Padmé's face drifted into his mind, soft and desperate, and the sickening image of her slipping away—of losing her—tightened his throat like a vise.

How could they ask me to wait? The words rattled around his head, over and over. He'd uncovered the truth himself, seen Palpatine's true face, his deceit, his darkness. I'm the only one who can understand what's at stake. And if he was right—if there was a way to save Padmé—then every second counted.

Yet Windu's warning held him in place, lingering like a ghostly hand on his shoulder. They don't trust you. He knew that. He could feel their skepticism, their restraint, the distance that always seemed to grow wider between himself and the Council. They've never understood you. They never will.

He squeezed his eyes shut, the conflict tearing through him. He had pledged himself to the Jedi Code, to their teachings, to a life of selflessness and discipline. But what if that very code was keeping him from what he needed most? Padmé's life was slipping through his fingers like sand, and every instinct told him he couldn't afford to stand back and wait for the Council's approval.

Trust your own judgment, Kenshin had once told him. Believe in your own strength. He had tried. But the Council had always questioned him, placing barriers between him and what he could become, what he needed to be.

A tremor ran through him as he made his choice. The familiar urge to defy authority blazed to life, but this time it wasn't out of anger, or pride, or even frustration—it was out of desperation. He would go to the Chancellor's office, no matter what. If Padmé's life is in my hands, I'll save her. Even if it means going against everything the Jedi taught me.

---

"Master Windu, stop!" Anakin's voice rang out. He was shaky with despair.

Mace Windu didn't flinch, nor did he move back, not even an inch. Too many years of relentless Jedi training had made this unyielding composure second nature to him. He didn't even look at him. "Skywalker, stay back!"

Anakin took a step closer, his gaze fixed on Palpatine, who now lay crumpled, pleading, his once-proud form shriveled and pitiful. "He… he has to stand trial! Killing him isn't the Jedi way!"

Windu's voice was as hard as durasteel. "He controls the Senate, the courts—he's too dangerous to be left alive, Anakin. He's responsible for everything."

"But… he can save Padmé," Anakin whispered, barely aware of the words spilling from his mouth. "I need him, Master Windu. You don't understand…"

Windu shot a look at Anakin, his face set in steely determination. "The Jedi cannot allow him to live. He has to die, Skywalker. I have no choice."

As Windu turned back to finish the job, Anakin's desperation reached its peak. He stepped forward, reaching out, ready to stop Windu by any means necessary. "No! You can't!"

Windu cast him a look of stern warning. "Anakin, if you interfere, you will be expelled from the Jedi Order."

But Anakin's heart was torn in two. He couldn't let this happen. If Sidious died, Padmé's fate was sealed. His fear, and his desperation surged, and he thrust his hand forward, summoning a wave of the Force to hold Windu back.

In that instant, Sidious saw his chance. With a sinister grin, he poured every ounce of his strength into a sudden, explosive blast of lightning, catching Windu off guard. The Jedi Master was thrown backward, slamming into the wall with a sickening thud before crumpling to the floor, motionless.

Anakin stared in horror, his heart plummeting as he looked from the lifeless form of Windu to Sidious, who lay on the ground, gasping and laughing, his victory finally at hand.

He stared at Windu's body, still and lifeless, the powerful Jedi Master brought down in a matter of seconds. A sickening numbness spread through him, hollowing out his chest, leaving him gasping. He heard himself whisper, the words fractured, broken. "What... what have I done?"

"What you've done," Sidious murmured, his voice slithering into Anakin's ears, "is taken your first step toward the power to save her."

Anakin turned, his gaze meeting Sidious's ruined, grinning face. There was no satisfaction in the Sith Lord's eyes, only cold, calculating victory. And as Anakin looked into those eyes, the realization hit him: there was no going back.

I can't let this stand... I have to stop him. Somehow. But the vision of Padmé, haunted and fragile, hung in his mind, whispering that he couldn't risk it. He couldn't lose his only chance to save her.

"No..." Anakin choked out, his voice trembling. He wanted to pull back, to fix it, to undo the irrevocable choice he had just made. But Windu was gone, and now Sidious—the Sith, the monster behind it all—was still here, breathing, smirking.

Sidious staggered to his feet, and with a slow, deliberate gesture, placed a gnarled, bony hand on Anakin's shoulder. His voice was soft, almost fatherly. "Anakin... you've done what you had to do. The Jedi have betrayed us both, my boy—betrayed the Republic, betrayed the very peace they claimed to stand for. They would have destroyed everything you hold dear."

Anakin's fists clenched at his sides, his mind racing, torn between the need to bring justice to the Sith before him and the bitter truth that he couldn't—wouldn't—risk losing Padmé.

"Anakin," Sidious continued, his tone persuasive, almost gentle, "you have the power now to do what the Jedi never could—to save the ones you love. The Jedi tried to keep that power from you; they feared you." He leaned closer, his voice barely a whisper, "But I can show you. I can give you the knowledge to save her, Anakin."

Anakin swallowed. He could almost see her face, her smile. No, he thought fiercely, I won't let Sidious win. I'll find another way... but I can't lose this chance now.

Steeling himself, he forced his voice to steady, infusing it with a tone of reluctant submission. "I... I understand, my lord," he said slowly, the words scraping his throat. "I pledge myself... to you, to your teachings. But only if you promise—if you swear—you'll help me save her."

Sidious's grin widened, the dark satisfaction in his eyes unmistakable. "You've made the right choice, my new apprentice. Together, we will bring peace to the galaxy. But first, there are matters that require our immediate attention."

Anakin's mind spun. I'll go along with it—for now, he thought, forcing himself to hold Sidious's gaze, masking the storm churning within him. If I can keep him close, learn what he knows, I can find a way to end this without losing her. But as he stared into Sidious's eyes, he realized he had to act carefully; the Sith Lord's grip on him was insidious.

"What..."his voice was breaking. He had to be cautious, to not betray his plans that he hadn't even made yet. "What is your bidding...my Master?"

Sidious's eyes gleamed. With slow steps, he moved behind his desk, reached into one of its many hidden compartments and retrieved an object, with rugged edges. Anakin didn't recognize it at first.

"This is but a piece of something far more powerful," Sidious said, his voice filled with reverence. "And I had once learned that the two remaining parts, to make it whole again, are in fact, stored at the Jedi temple, in its most restricted vaults. If I remember correctly, you were part of the mission when your former Jedi Master uncovered one of them on his homeworld of Nanta. Who would have imagined that such an insignificant backwater world holds such magnificient secrets."

The Nanta artifact? Anakin wondered. How did Sidious learn of this? Not that this would be a great time to ask.

"This..." Sidious continued, "will help us learn the final steps to uncover the arcanum of eternal life...and to save and protect the ones you love – forever."

Anakin forced a nod, keeping his gaze steady, though he felt the weight of his every step down this dark path. "I understand, my lord. I'll retrieve the artifact for you."

Sidious looked pleased, and his hand fell away from Anakin's shoulder. "Good. There are urgent matters I must attend to before our vision for the galaxy is realized. Thake this fragment, go to the temple, and reassemble and retrieve the artifact for me. With it, you will have the means to protect your wife—forever."

Anakin clenched his jaw, holding Sidious's gaze as he forced his voice into a steady reply. "It will be done, my lord."

Without another word, he turned, walking away from Sidious, feeling the man's malevolent gaze linger on his back as he exited the office. But beneath his facade, his mind was racing, grappling with the impossible.

He raced his speeder first to Padmé's apartment, forcing it to a screeching halt at the docking station, and leapt onto the balcony. Padmé looked up from her seating, startled, and crossed the room quickly, her brows knitting together in worry as she took in the look in his eyes.

"Anakin… what's happened?" she asked, her voice trembling. "You're scaring me."

"There's no time," he panted, his gaze darting around as if he expected to see the shadow of Sidious lurking in the corners. He took her by the shoulders, his grip firm but trembling. "Padmé, you have to stay here—do you understand me? Don't leave, no matter what happens outside."

"Anakin, please, what's going on?" She searched his face, her voice softening. "Tell me. You can trust me."

He swallowed, struggling to force the words out. "It's… it's Palpatine, Padmé. He's the Sith Lord we've been searching for—he's Sidious. The one who's been behind everything. The war, the suffering, the betrayals… all of it. He revealed himself to me!"

Padmé's hand flew to her mouth, her eyes widening in horror. "Palpatine? Anakin, that's impossible. He's… he's been our friend for years—"

"It's true," Anakin cut in, his voice strained, almost breaking. "Everything he did was to gain control, and now he's turning on the Jedi, on everyone. I… I pledged myself to him, Padmé," he admitted, his voice lowering, heavy with shame. "But only to buy us time, to keep him close until I can find a way to end this."

Padmé's gaze softened, her hand reaching up to touch his face, her voice a whisper. "Anakin…"

He grabbed her hand, squeezing it tightly. "I'll come back to you, Padmé. But you have to stay here—please, promise me. Don't go to the Senate, don't go anywhere public. Stay here where you're safe. I can't risk anything happening to you."

She hesitated, her eyes filling with both fear and trust. Finally, she nodded, her voice wavering. "I promise."

"Thank you." He pressed a quick, fervent kiss to her forehead, then pulled back, forcing himself to let go. "I have to go now. I'll… I'll explain everything soon, I swear."

And with one last look, he turned and hurried out of the apartment. It tore him apart to leave and be only able to hope for her safety, but time was not on his side. Back in the speeder, he fumbled with his comm device to set it onto a coded, concealed frequency. For all he knew, Sidious could be surveying him and the regular comm channels.

The connection felt like it took eons to go through, each second stretching unbearably as Anakin's heart hammered in his chest. Finally, the holo-image flickered to life, and the stern figure of Jedi Battlemaster Cin Drallig appeared, with An'ya Kuro standing silently beside him.

"Master Drallig!" Anakin's voice was nearly a shout, thick with urgency. "He's on his way to the Jedi Temple—he'll be there any moment! We're out of time!"

Drallig's brow furrowed, his tone sharp and unyielding. "Skywalker, slow down. Who is coming to the Temple? Explain—what happened?"

Anakin drew a quick, unsteady breath, struggling to get a grip on his words. "It's Palpatine… he's Darth Sidious! Palpatine is the Sith Lord we've been searching for. He's on his way right now."

Drallig's face paled, the shock breaking through his usually impassive expression. He stared at Anakin, disbelief giving way to grim understanding. "Master Windu and his team… what of them?"

Anakin's face darkened, the memory twisting like a blade in his chest. He managed to relay the events in a few broken words, leaving out the parts that gnawed at him the most. "I… I tried to stop him, but he overpowered Master Windu and the others. I had no choice… to stall him, I pretended to join him." His voice faltered, then steadied. "It's a ruse. But it won't last long—he's coming for a powerful artifact hidden in the archives."

Drallig's eyes narrowed, processing this revelation. An'ya Kuro remained motionless, her face a mask of grim composure, but her eyes flicked to Drallig, their worry unspoken.

Anakin could feel a sharp shiver pass through him, but he forced it down. This is just another battle. An impossible situation, one where everything hung in the balance—but that was what he did best. He was still Anakin Skywalker. He could find a way.

"Master Drallig," he continued, his voice growing steady, almost commanding, "here's what we can do: we let him enter, draw him in, and then secure all defenses around the entrance to the archives. If we can corner him there, we might have a chance to stop him."

Drallig considered this, nodding slowly, his face still ashen with the weight of what was to come. "This plan could work, but it will take everything we have." He hesitated, his expression hardening with a kind of grim clarity. "We may need… all available resources."

"Do whatever it takes," Anakin said, the intensity of his gaze unwavering. But in the corner of his mind, the thought lingered like a whisper: And I'll take whatever knowledge I can to save Padmé…

The call ended, leaving silence in its wake. An'ya Kuro, who had remained quiet throughout, turned to Drallig. "Master Drallig… if Palpatine truly is Sidious, then he commands the entire Clone army. The warnings about Order 66—they're real! He will activate it, and every Jedi out in the field…"

Her voice trailed off, leaving the grim reality to settle over them both.

Drallig's jaw tightened. "Then we do what we can with what time we have. Activate the Jedi beacon. Send out an emergency warning to every Jedi—Order 66 has been triggered." He paused, an idea forming in his mind, one he wasn't certain he liked, but which might be their only chance.

Drallig's eyes narrowed with grim resolve. There might yet be reason to hope. Turning sharply, he nodded to An'ya, who immediately left to activate the emergency beacon, her robes trailing in her haste. In the depths of their walls lay a force so dangerous that even he dared not summon it lightly. But now – what other choice, what other chance did they have, other than to unleash this specter from the dark, a power as haunted and relentless as the threat now bearing down upon them. The very thought sent a chill through him. He steeled himself and made his way to the weapons repository.

---

The hiss of the cell door sliding open stirred Kenshin from a restless, troubled sleep. He could sense turmoil in the Force, but he had no way of knowing what was happening. His senses were prickling with unease, the dark undercurrents of the Force swirling around him with an unsettling intensity.

Since being confined here, healers had checked on him regularly, monitoring his vitals, administering treatments. Physically, he felt almost whole. The attention puzzled him—why would the Jedi go to such lengths for someone who would soon face execution? The healers always came in pairs, additionally accompanied by a temple guard or two. But the person who now entered his cell was neither a healer nor accompanied.

Cin Drallig had a look of grim desolation on his face, his knuckles white from clutching two familiar weapons: a battered, black lightsaber hilt - his lightsaber hilt! - and his phrik katana. Muffled by the distance, through the open door, explosions and blaster fire echoed through the hallowed halls.

Having stepped into the cell, Drallig halted. He stared at the prisoner's form sprawled on the floor, who had obviously been sleeping – slowly, the Ghost lifted his head and groggily turned to look who was disturbing him. He blinked a few times, before his demonic eyes locked in on him. Kenshin's gaze sharpened, his eyes flashing with recognition—and something more. Through the open doorway, he could hear faint but unmistakable echoes of explosions and blaster fire. Chaos.

The Battlemaster felt an involuntary shiver at standing so close to one of the galaxy's most feared Force wielders, questioning the wisdom of this choice. He certainly despised Kenshin Kano—once a Jedi Master, now the feared political assassin known as the Ghost—for his heretical views and abandonment of the Jedi Code. But he couldn't deny the unparalleled skill and raw power he possessed. Anakin Skywalker was a formidable general, and a cunning warrior, but he would not be able to stop Sidious. The Ghost, as much as he hated it, was their only chance. If the Jedi were to survive this day, they would need him.

With a solemn voice, Drallig said, "The temple is under attack. Darth Sidious… he's turned the Clone army against us. Order 66 has been activated."

Kenshin's face darkened, realization mingling with dread as it struck him. Order 66. The nightmare he had long feared, long sensed, but that he'd hoped would never come to pass.

"I warned them." His voice was low, carrying the weight of years of frustration. "I warned all of you, and you did nothing."

Drallig flinched but held steady, his grip tightening on the weapons as he spoke with a calm force. "We were blind, and now we're paying the price. Sidious himself will be here any moment. Anakin Skywalker is trying to stall him, but he can't hold him off alone."

"Him – Sidious?"

"Darth Sidious has revealed himself. He is Palpatine! The Chancellor was Sidious all along."

Kenshin's eyes went wide open.

"Palpatine….he IS Sidious? I had Palpatine thought to be his puppet – not the Sith lord himself!"

Kenshin's mind reeled as the truth struck him. How could I have missed this? He had always prided himself on his instincts, his ability to see through the nebulae of deception. I've always suspected Palpatine of being corrupt, of being a pawn in Sidious's grand scheme… but to be the Sith Lord himself? The thought roared through his mind. How could he have been so blind? So deceived?

His chest tightened with self-reproach. I should have known. I should have sensed it. The knowledge that he had been so close to the truth, yet missed it entirely, stung. But now was not the time. He closed his eyes, inhaling deeply, letting the turmoil within him settle.

You've been hiding in plain sight, all this time…And maybe I know you better than I thought…He had it, too. The power of Force stealth, to conceal one's Force signature to the point of it being imperceptible. It was a rare power, but that would explain how a Force user this powerful could have danced under the nose of the entire Jedi Order for decades…

Regret was a luxury he couldn't afford. What was done was done. What mattered now was action. My purpose has always been to destroy Sidious, no matter who he was. Nothing changes.

A strange clarity overtook him, washing away the bitter sting of missed foresight. In its place grew a fierce, singular determination. He would face Sidious and fulfill his purpose, no matter the cost. And as that purpose settled into his bones, another emotion began to surface. The thought of facing Sidious—of pitting his skill, his soul, against the most formidable opponent in the galaxy—sent an electric thrill, a dark excitement coursing through him.

He exhaled. Exhilaration could unsettle a bladesbeing just as much as fear. He quickly reined himself in.

Control yourself, and you control everything.

He knew with certainty that he would not survive this fight. But it didn't matter. What mattered was fulfilling his purpose, and he knew that even if he died, Sidious would fall with him.

There is freedom in life, there is purpose in death.

There is only the Force.

The Force was One, light and dark intertwined, and he had since long embraced that truth. He did not fear the dark side; he understood it, respected it as part of the whole. For all his strength and power, the Sith had never truly respected the Force. The Force was not a slave to bend to one's will.

Drallig stepped closer, presenting the Ghost's weapons, his hands trembling. "Please – help us! Despite everything, you are still a Jedi. You always were, even if the Order failed to see it. You have a chance to end this, to save countless lives. Skywalker has pretended to pledge himself to Sidious as his new apprentice, a ruse to bide some time, but he won't be able to stop him."

"Where is Sidious now?" Kenshin asked calmly.

"Sidious is headed for the archives, Skywalker says, likely after one of the artifacts stored there. Hurry! I must return to my post, my duty is to defend and protect the younglings. You are the only one with the power and the skill to face Sidious. The Order may have failed, but the Force has not - you have not."

Kenshin closed his eyes briefly, then reopened them. A powerful, demonic violet glow emanated from them, igniting a new glimmer of hope within Cin.

Kano took his blades. "May the Force be with you!"

"And with you, Ghost."

They both bolted from the cell, but Cin couldn't keep up with Kenshin's pace for more than a moment. He sprinted through the corridors, his heart pounding with urgency. He had children to protect. The hope within him grew into a sense of certainty. He had made the right choice. He had turned to the Ghost, to Kenshin, driven by an urge in the Force. The Jedi might have been wrong for a long time, focusing solely on the light side, while in reality, the Force was One! And in his heart, he hoped that today, with Sidious, the Force would not be.

---

The air in the Jedi Archives was unnaturally still, a deep, suffocating silence settling over the towering rows of knowledge that had withstood centuries. The room, once filled with the quiet hum of study and contemplation, now felt hollow. A heavy darkness seeped into every corner, twisting the serenity into a foreboding weight that pressed against the walls. This place had been a sanctuary for the Jedi, a symbol of their order's wisdom and pride. Now it would be the tomb of their knowledge, crushed beneath his will. Darth Sidious stood, clause to the entry to the vault, his hands clasped behind his back as he gazed impassively at the towering shelves. He exuded that disgusting sense of being entitled to the rule of the galaxy entire.

Kenshin approached with measured, firm steps. The sense of certainty and liberation grew stronger.

This was the final chance, the final gift of the Force, to fulfil his purpose, and he would use this chance. If he would live or die – no matter the outcome, he had nothing to lose. He could now only win.

A few meters close, he stopped.

Sidious had heard the footsteps echoing down the hall. He frowned, irritated and, for a brief moment, puzzled. He had sensed no approach, no tremor in the Force. The thought unsettled him, faintly stirring something foreign in his chest—a flicker of unease. He turned, annoyance creasing his brow.

There, standing a few paces away, was a figure he hadn't expected to see again, though he quickly masked his surprise. This should be impossible. He had given orders that Kenshin Kano—the Ghost—was to be tortured and executed. And yet here he is. For a fleeting moment, Sidious's gaze moved over the man before him. He was much thinner than he remembered from a previous encounter years ago. He looked worn, almost emaciated, marked by sickness and hardship. But those eyes… those unnatural violet eyes blazed with something ancient, unyielding. Before he could master himself, Sidious felt a glacial chill run down his spine—an alien sensation, one he hadn't felt in decades.

With an unfathomably cruel, bone-chilling screech, that was pure destruction and death having taken the form of sound, the colourless lightsaber blade of the Ghost flamed to life. With a gentle, metallic rasp, his katana's blade followed and left its sheath.

His face was calm, almost serene, with glance that reflected both light and dark, the Force in a feral unity. It was a balance Sidious found curious—and distasteful. Kenshin Kano was strong with the Force, though not nearly strong enough to rival his own power. Yet there was something more—something ancient, primal, an unyielding finality in his gaze, and the dark lord of the Sith, for all his power, couldn't help it – it was unsettling him on a level he had never dared to imagine, let alone go near.

"Ah… so the elusive Ghost finally appears before me," Sidious sneered, his voice laced with arrogant mockery. "A surprise, to be sure. I would have thought my new apprentice would have dealt with you already."

Kenshin remained utterly impassive, the faintest flicker of contempt tugging at his mouth. "And yet, here I am."

Sidious's smile turned derisive. "Surely, you intend to finish what you failed to complete in the Senate rotunda."

Kenshin gave a sardonic glance at his weapons, his gaze icy. "Does it look like I'm here to bring you flowers and a box of candy?"

Sidious's lips thinned, his eyes narrowing. "So defiant, Ghost. I would have expected more respect in the presence of one so... immeasurably your superior."

"Superior in arrogance, yes – even the poodoo of an entire heard of bantha piled up won't be able to rival its height."

A flicker of annoyance crossed Sidious's face, but he suppressed it, feigning amusement as he studied the man before him. There was something intriguing about his spirit, something almost... admirable. Sidious had watched with interest as the Ghost, with unmatched precision and dark artistry, had executed terrorist strikes that were as devastating as they were cunning. His methods showed a ruthless intelligence and strategic elegance, qualities Sidious respected, even as he sought to manipulate them.

And in that moment, Sidious's calculating mind shifted. Perhaps there was a way to use this Ghost, to bend him into a tool just as he had the Chosen One.

"You have no reason to fight me, Ghost. The Jedi's ideals are a hollow farce—a child's delusion of light and justice." He extended a hand, his eyes gleaming with dark promise. "We're not as far apart as it seems! Pledge yourself to me, Kenshin, and together we will wield a power beyond the feeble reach of the Jedi. With your skill and my knowledge, we could end this charade and shape a new order across the galaxy."

He paused, his voice softening as if coaxing a reluctant apprentice. "You know the truth of power, how to seize it, how to wield it. Join me, and embrace the strength you were always meant to command."

Kenshin's gaze narrowed, his voice carrying a quiet, cold admiration. "In deception, you have no equal, Sidious; to fool the Jedi for so long takes skill I cannot deny." He paused, his eyes hardening, as though weighing Sidious's worth like a swordsman measures a rival's blade. "But even the finest weapon is only as noble as the hand that wields it. I would not dishonor my blade—or myself—by becoming yours. There's nothing you could offer that would make me that fool."

Sidious's voice became an almost gentle whisper, layered with persuasion. "But - look at what I am offering you: not mere survival, not mere servitude, but true Greatness!"

Kenshin's eyes darkened, his expression bored. "Greatness? I have never aspired to greatness."

Sidious chuckled, a hint of confusion in his voice. "Do not be a fool! Have you ever considered that your presence here was part of my ingenious, grand plan? You possess rare power, you are possibly more powerful than the so-called Chosen One, who certainly lacks your clarity, your... independence." He drew closer, voice lowering, like a conspirator sharing a secret. "You have seen through the lies of the Jedi, and their narrow, dogmatic views. Oh yes, I have followed your course with great interest and at last I am seeing that you have proven worthy and capable enough. Compared to you, Anakin is weak. Just think what you could achieve, using my knowledge, and my teachings! I could teach you to command powers beyond your imagination, powers that would make you unstoppable. You could have everything you want!"

Kenshin let out a mirthless laugh, his tone mocking. "You think you understand me, Sidious? I am the Ghost. And what does a ghost want? Nothing—except your death!"

With moments passing painfully slowly, Sidious at last understood that there was nothing to understand, no hidden meaning behind his opponent's words. The inviting, luring smile on his face froze and an incredulous frown planted itself onto his features. How could this man truly be so blind? So unable to see the advantage I offer him? He had been certain—certain that anyone, with enough promise, enough understanding of the Force's true depths, would grasp his vision.

Is he so small-minded? So limited? It was unthinkable to him, almost laughable, that anyone could look upon the power he wielded, the greatness he embodied, and still reject it. The man before him was either a fool or something worse: someone who defied logic, who seemed almost... incorruptible.

The absurdity of it grated on him.

"Then I am afraid, I won't be able to show you any mercy. I will have to kill you."

Kenshin only shrugged, his face slack with the indifferent ease of a seasoned predator. A hint of a lazy smile touched his lips. "I have died a long time ago."

The temperature dropped to a freezing point, a nexus of unspeakable darkness formed. The air between them seemed to still, the storm coiling, lightning waiting to strike.

He, Darth Sidious, was destined to hold power over the galaxy entire. He had fought for obtaining this power, he had fought to crush this Jedi pest, that foolishly resisted him, once and for all.

The Force shall free me. The Force shall serve me!

That was his belief. For Sidious, the dark side was a tool, something to be mastered, to force into submission to his will.

To the Ghost, the dark side was no dark side, there was only the Force, something so much greater than himself, and he submitted himself, his soul, his entire being, to it.

Shadows pooled around the towering shelves, warping the faint blue glow from data carriers into spectral wisps. Only Sidious's twin red lightsabers, that had ignited with his last words, disrupted the darkness, casting bloody streaks of light across the ancient volumes, illuminating the cold fury etched into his face. The Ghost's weapon—the blade he held before him—was invisible, vanishing completely into the darkness.

The sight was as unsettling as it was infuriating; Sidious's eyes narrowed, sensing the energy coursing through the Ghost yet unable to read his movements. How could it be? How could he wield the Force in such a way that it masked even his blade? His unease grew, coiling like a viper within him.

"Prepare yourself, Jedi," Sidious sneered, the words low and venomous, "for the Force itself bends to my will."

Kenshin didn't respond. He stood perfectly still, calm as a dark lake. In that brief pause, the Force surged between them, a pulse of pure darkness clashing with the wild, ancient unity within Kenshin.

With a speed that defied the eye, his lethal intent masked through the Force, the Ghost attacked. A flash of movement, sharp as a lightning strike, and Kenshin's invisible blade seared toward him, forcing Sidious back, his red blades parrying in rapid defense. But Kenshin pressed forward, each strike precise, merciless, his blade seeming to come from every direction. Sidious's breath quickened, each impact jarring him.

The Ghost's face remained calm, focused, each strike punctuated with a primal force that Sidious hadn't expected. Kenshin moved with ferocity, wielding the Force like a relentless storm that crashed upon Sidious, pressing him back further and further. With every clash of their blades, the Archives echoed with the searing hiss of energy against energy, sending ripples of dark power through the vast, cold hall.

For a moment, Sidious's confidence wavered. His mind grappled with the realization that Kenshin was drawing from both sides of the Force with a balance he'd never encountered, a harmony that defied the Sith's divisive teachings.

Then, a clash—once more unexpected, brutal. Sidious twisted his saber to counter, but as he did, an explosion of energy erupted between them. A shockwave tore through the Archives as Kenshin's lightsaberhilt shattered, flaring in a burst of light, sending shards scattering across the cold stone floor. At the same instant, Sidious's grip slipped, and one of his crimson blades fractured and exploded, leaving his left hand trembling in shock and pain.

Sidious staggered back, the twisted remains of his lightsaber hilt sparking in his hand. His mind reeled, unable to comprehend what had happened. How could a mere Jedi weapon have the strength to disrupt my mastery? His disbelief hardened into something more visceral: fear.

The Ghost was an entity impossible to grasp, his movements obscure, a true specter, not only by name.

Shouldn't he, Sidious, Dark Lord of the Sith, be beyond power, darkness beyond darkness, in mastery of the universe itself? The Ghost was evading his dark tendrils. He moved with the slippery grace of a vornskr, his being pure speed. A demon whose remaining blade called upon an ancient power.

This man, this being wasn't guided by the Force, nor was he using the Force, he was ONE with the Force, in perfect, eerie, lethal unity.

Sidious felt fear, creeping through the growing cracks of is conscience like venom.

No matter how deviously he directed his blade, his opponent's weapon was already there to meet his, no matter how much speed he employed, the Ghost had already dodged out of his reach.

Kenshin slammed his following strike down so hard that the shock of deflecting it buckled Sidious's elbows. Sidious threw himself into a backroll that brought him to his feet—and Kenshin's blade was there to meet his neck. Only a desperate whirling slash-block, coupled with a wheel kick that caught Kenshin on the thigh, bought him enough time to leap away again, and when he touched down— Kenshin was already back there. An overhand chop of the Ghost's blade slid off Sidious's instinctive guard. Another bent Sidious's wrist. The third flash of silver forced Sidious's scarlet blade so far to the inside that his own lightsaber scorched his shoulder, and Sidious was forced to give ground. He felt himself blanch. Where had this come from? Kenshin came on, mechanically inexorable, impossibly powerful and swifter than the tongue of a Garollian ghost viper

Sidious backed away as fast as he dared; Kenshin stayed right on top of him. Sidious's breath went short and hard.

Kenshin's breath still came controlled and steady. His training as a swordsman had taught him to breathe through pain, to let each exhale carry away doubt and fear. This clarity kept his thoughts from scattering in Sidious's onslaught, his mind an fortress of calm in a storm of chaos. He knew that true mastery came not from force alone, but from control—and this control would always have to be control of one-self, never of the Force. The Force was no tool to bend to one's will! Instead, he surrendered to the Force's flow, not blocking Sidious' attacks head-on, but channeling them around him, like a river redirected by stone.

The dark lord no longer tried to block the Ghost's strikes but only to guide them slanting away.

This fighting style was unlike anything he had ever seen, nor in the Jedi neither the Sith he had fought.

There was a resemblance to Mace Windu's Vaapad, but it exceeded the famous Jedi Master's form in both precision, and viciousness. Facing this perfect, feral fury, Sidious had the feeling of fighting the wrath of the Force herself.

Sidious's eyes glinted as he spun into a brutal counter, his blade angling forward. At last, a minuscule opening, and his lightsaber caught the Ghost's right shoulder in a sharp thrust. He followed up with a vise-like grip on his dominant hand, squeezing until he felt the knuckles grind beneath his fingers. A cruel grin spread across his face, shadowed with victory.

"At last, the great Ghost falls," he sneered, his voice dripping with dark satisfaction. Sidious could feel Kenshin's pulse under his hand, but instead of the surge of triumph he'd expected, he felt only confusion prickling beneath his confidence. Why is he not struggling? He could end this right now—finish the Ghost in one swift strike. But the thought lingered, unacted upon, eclipsed by his arrogance. Instead, he glanced at Kenshin's face, eager to see pain, defeat.

But there was no grimace of agony in the Ghost's expression—only that maddening, unnatural calm, his face serene yet sharpened with cold, lethal purpose. The intensity in Kenshin's eyes was otherworldly, something beyond anger, beyond Sidious' dark schemes and manipulations. It was the look of a warrior who had transcended pain, fear, and even death.

What are you? Sidious wondered.

How could he still be so disgustingly detached, where every sentient being would have been debilitated by excruciating pain?

In that suspended moment, Kenshin released his katana, letting it fall from his right hand. Before Sidious could comprehend it, the Ghost's left hand was already guiding the sharp phrik blade upwards, its edge shimmering, moving with deadly precision.

The Sith's eyes went wide as the realization struck. He released his grip and pulled back. Instead of slicing through his torso, the blade missed his upper body by a hair. The dark lord staggered, watching in horrified disbelief as his own sword hand detached from his arm, severed cleanly at the wrist. He could barely comprehend what he was seeing before the agony surged, white-hot and consuming, exploding through his nerves in waves.

Sidious let out a sharp, choked cry, a sound of rage and shock as he stumbled back, clutching at his arm, his disbelief nearly as potent as the searing pain that followed.

Kenshin didn't allow Sidious not even a split-second to catch his breath. He launched himself at his opponent again, with relentless, merciless precision. Sidious struggled to move back, his mind reeling, disbelief flooding him as he narrowly dodged the next razor-sharp swing. He was now unarmed, defenseless against the assault. But Jedi do not attack unarmed opponents…

Then, from somewhere within his mind, a spectral voice, chilling and absolute, echoed: I am no Jedi.

The words drove through him like ice, a grim certainty settling in his bones. A cold, bitter dread crept up his spine. All his life, he had wielded the dark side like a weapon, bending it, forcing it to obey. But now, as he looked into the eyes of the Ghost, he saw a power not enslaved but embodied—and he realized the terrifying arrogance of his own beliefs.

The Force is not my servant… it has never been...

Desperation surged in him, and he called on the only weapon left at his command. From his outstretched hand, erupted a blinding torrent of Force lightning, crackling with fierce, erratic power, every tendril fueled by raw despair. The bolts seared forward, illuminating the shadows of the Archives in chaotic flashes as he poured everything he had into the assault, a last attempt to hold the Ghost's deadly blade at bay.

---

A cacophony of groaning and crackling filled Anakin's ears as he at last emerged from the vaults, the ancient artifact clutched tightly in his hands. It pulsed faintly, casting a ghostly glow across his face as he moved, each fractured piece now fused together in an unsettling, flawless whole. He felt the weight of it in his hands—like holding a piece of the Force itself, bound by secrets older than he could imagine.

Then he lifted his gaze and froze.

Before him was a scene torn from a nightmare. Sidious stood, his face twisted with dark fury, his right hand missing, his left unleashing torrents of lightning with savage abandon. The purple bolts crackled in vicious waves, searing the air itself. And against this storm stood a lone figure, unwavering, his katana raised, absorbing the onslaught. It was Kenshin—Kenshin!—holding his ground. Anakin's heart lurched, a wave of disbelief and horror rising within him. How could Kenshin be here?

Kenshin's face was pallid, streaked with rivulets of blood trailing from the corners of his eyes, as though he were weeping red tears. His hands were steady on the hilt, but his body trembled under the immense strain. Each strike of lightning struck with brutal force, yet he stood firm, casting off the blasts in bursts of defiance, refusing to fall.

"No! STOP!" Anakin's voice tore out.

Sidious's head snapped around, his voice slithering through the chaos. "Anakin! You must help me—now!" His voice softened, slippery with false desperation. "Help me, my boy… Save me."

It was a twisted déjà vu, the scene an echo of what he had seen only hours earlier. It had then be Mace Windu at the receiving end of Sidious' Force lightning. And how terribly had the scene ended! Not again.

"Stop it!" he pleaded, his voice wavering. "You're killing him! I want him to live!" His words were urgent, tinged with desperation. "Didn't you say I could have everything I wanted?"

"Anakin, no!" Sidious's voice took on a sweet urgency, almost paternal. "It's him—the Ghost—he's the one trying to end me. I'm fighting to stay alive! You must save me… Use the artifact—save me!"

Through the storm, Kenshin's voice broke through, hoarse and strained. "Anakin… you must destroy it. If Sidious takes this artifact, he will drown the galaxy in horror, in suffering—he will destroy everything." He staggered, his breath ragged. "End it, Anakin."

Anakin's heart pounded. Destroy it? He glanced down at the artifact in his hands, his mind racing. How am I even supposed to do that?

Sidious's voice slithered into his mind, rich with temptation. "Anakin," he coaxed, "through this artifact, we will unlock the secret to eternal life. We can save her—Padmé." His tone became a low, persuasive whisper. "Don't you see, my boy? You are essential, a… key in all of this, you're the tool that I need."

Anakin's grip tightened on the artifact as a new, piercing thought took root: This is what I am to him – a TOOL?

The word hit him like a cold blow, his gaze snapping to Sidious. There it was, laid bare—the truth. Sidious hadn't yet discovered the secret he'd promised. He didn't yet have the knowledge to save Padmé. He had lied, twisted every word, using Anakin's fears and hopes as bait. Sidious needed the artifact to gain the power over life and death, to claim that ultimate control for himself. Every promise had been a deceit.

It hit him like a blast of ice.

Padmé… she'd never want this. Not if it meant sacrificing everything we've fought for…

The thought pulled at him, filling him with a quiet, desperate clarity. He could picture her face, the unwavering strength in her eyes. Padmé would never forgive him if he sacrificed an entire galaxy for her sake. She wouldn't forgive him if he claimed power that could enslave or destroy worlds just to cheat death. If I use this artifact… I lose her anyway.

He looked back to Kenshin. Kenshin's eyes, weary and bloodied, held his gaze, the silent plea clear and steady. In that moment, Anakin felt a sudden, powerful certainty, a knowledge Kenshin had tried to impart time and time again: believe in yourself; you're strong enough to make the right choice. He had never fully believed it—until now.

Anakin's gaze dropped to the artifact. He noticed something about its design—a thin, narrow slit along its center, as though it were waiting for something… something sharp. His eyes shifted to Kenshin's katana, its form perfectly matched to pierce the artifact's heart.

Their eyes locked, and Anakin felt a wordless, powerful certainty pass between them. Kenshin's lips never moved, but over the chaos, Anakin heard the words within the Force, as if spoken in the temple's quiet gardens.

If there were only one person in the galaxy I could trust, it would still be you.

The realization struck Anakin's heart cold.

Kenshin hurled the katana toward him, surrendering his only weapon, exposing himself fully to Sidious's vicious assault. The blade arced gracefully through the air, and as Anakin caught it, the full weight of Kenshin's sacrifice settled within him—a final act of trust. A final act of faith. And at last he understood.

Anakin made a choice.

And now, perhaps for the first time, it was a choice that was truly his own.

With one final look at Kenshin, he drove the katana into the artifact's center, the blade fitting perfectly as though made for that purpose.

A violent pulse rippled through the room as the artifact shuddered, a silent scream reverberating through the Force. For a single, breathless moment, all sound died, all movement died, everything frozen in stillness, as if time itself had stopped, the world suspended in an unnatural stillness. Then the artifact imploded with a sickening screech, the katana stuck within it shattered and disintegrated in a final burst of light.

Sidious stared, his face twisting from disbelief to blind fury. "You… YOU FOOL!" His voice broke into a furious roar, seething with contempt. "YOU DESPICABLE, PATHETIC FOOL! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE!"

In a final, desperate act, he hurled the full force of his lightning at both Anakin and Kenshin, the dark energy exploding in a furious storm, enveloping them both. Anakin's body seized, the blinding pain overwhelming him as the lightning tore through his nerves, the world dimming under the sheer agony of the onslaught.

Then, as suddenly as it had started, the assault ceased.

Dazed, Anakin blinked, his vision clearing as he looked up. Sidious stood frozen, his eyes wide, a thin plume of smoke rising from his forehead. A small hole marred the center of his brow, and smoke curled from his chest where another wound lay.

Slowly, the Sith Lord's body crumpled to the floor and revealed Padmé. Her face was set in fierce determination, her small blaster still aimed at him.

---

"Padmé!?"

How in the blazes had she gotten here? Hadn't he told her to stay safe in her apartment? But before he could ask a word, the sound of pounding boots and metallic voices cut through the stunned silence. Clone troopers, fully armed and merciless, stormed into the archives, weapons raised.

"Padmé!" Anakin yelled, his voice edged with panic. He thrust his hand forward, sending a wave of Force energy that pushed her back toward the vault door. "Stay there—don't move!" Without a second thought, he triggered the lock, sealing her safely inside.

A second's relief was all he could spare. His gaze snapped to Kenshin, who was frantically scanning the floor, his eyes catching the glint of metal beneath the crumpled body of Sidious. Sidious's remaining lightsaber, still clutched in his lifeless fingers. Kenshin's gaze hardened. It would have to do! With a swift gesture, he summoned the weapon into his hand, Sidious's pale fingers snapping from the hilt as the saber flew to him.

Not a second too early!

The troopers charged, rifles raised, blasters now firing in relentless waves. Kenshin ignited the crimson blade, its angry glow reflecting off his blood-streaked face.

Side by side, they moved as one, deflecting the incoming bolts in a deadly, synchronized rhythm. The air filled with the shriek of blaster fire meeting lightsabers, red and blue flashes casting wild shadows across the walls as the Clone forces continued to press forward.

More Jedi appeared, and joined the fierce battle. The archives became a battleground, a storm of light and darkness as Jedi and Clones clashed, each fighting for survival within the ancient halls that had, until now, stood as a sanctuary.

---

The gentle evening sunlight poured through the windows, casting a warm, golden light across the dojo. Nari loved these evening lightsaber classes, the peaceful hum of fifteen training sabers filling the air. She focused on each swing and block, her attention locked on her instructor as he demonstrated the elegant movements of Form I. But then the door burst open, and a group of Clone troopers stormed in, their blasters raised and firing before anyone could react.

Her teacher's eyes went wide—he lifted his lightsaber, but the clones' shots were faster, slamming into him before he could deflect even one. He crumpled to the floor in a flash of red, the bodies of several students falling beside him.

"Nari!" someone screamed, but she couldn't turn, couldn't look away. The horror froze her in place for a breath, the room's golden light suddenly harsh and blinding. Panic tightened in her chest, confusion and terror gripping her heart. Why were there clones in the Jedi temple? Why were they attacking? Why would they do this? It was impossible! They were supposed to protect the Jedi, supposed to be their allies. She froze, and her body trembled, her knuckles turning white as she clutched her training saber tightly, as if it could provide safety, and shield her from this shock and the terrible things that had just happened and that she didn't understand.

Another blaster shot rang out. She threw herself into a leap, the training saber in her hand sparking to life again as she landed in front of the remaining students, intercepting the barrage of blaster fire aimed at them. Heart pounding, she swung the saber with fierce determination, sending the shots back toward the Clones. She acted purely on instinct, her movements fast and driven by a clarity she'd never felt before. The Clones, unprepared for resistance, staggered under the counterfire, and one by one, they fell.

Silence filled the room again, broken only by the low hum of her saber. Nari's breaths came in quick, shallow bursts, her gaze moving over the fallen bodies of her teacher and friends scattered across the floor. Her hands shook as she lowered her saber, confusion and terror crashing back over her. What… what had just happened? How… how could any of this be real?

For a moment, her courage faltered. She was just a child, and a sick, helpless feeling twisted in her stomach. I'm just an Initiate, I'm not even a Padawan… I can't do this… She blinked hard, fighting back tears, and then braced herself. Master Kenshin would help. He'd fight. He would find a way to protect everyone…

She still didn't understand why the Clones had attacked—didn't understand how any of this was real. But she sensed danger and threat through the Force. And she realized: she needed a real weapon. Her training saber wouldn't stand up to another assault like that.

Turning, she hurried toward the door, only half-aware of the frantic beeps of her astromech, Roku. Ever since she'd found him, he'd followed her everywhere, even to class, like he was afraid to be abandoned again.

Maybe the training room, she thought, sprinting down the hallway. Roku rolled behind her, his wheels whirring in anxious overdrive. Something solid thumped against her thigh and clattered to the floor. She stumbled, glancing down to see a metallic hilt lying by her foot. She blinked, bending to pick it up. A real lightsaber?

She turned to Roku, who had stopped just behind her, beeping insistently. Had he been carrying this?

Curious, she thumbed the ignition, and a blade flickered to life—a pale green-gold, brighter and fiercer than the training sabers. She could feel the heat, the energy radiating from the blade. Her heart quickened. Why would Roku have a lightsaber? She frowned, glancing over it, but the faint design on the hilt sparked a memory. Had it belonged to Master Kenshin? Was this his secondary weapon? But before she could wonder further, a loud burst of blaster fire echoed down the hallway, reminding her that questions would have to wait.

A pull in the Force urged her to move, guiding her direction, and she let it carry her, her feet swiftly flying over the polished floors. The sound of battle grew louder as she approached the archives, blaster fire and the hum of sabers filling the air. At the entrance, she stopped, her eyes widening at the scene.

Master Kenshin was there, side by side with Anakin Skywalker, engaged in a furious altercation with Clones. His movements were slightly, but still visibly off. Something was wrong. His shoulder was bleeding, his expression strained, there was blood all over his face, and in between parries, his stance wavered. He gripped a red-bladed lightsaber, blocking and deflecting the incoming fire, but his steps were faltering, his strikes less sharp. He's hurt, she realized, her heart twisting with fear as she watched him stumble, his blade barely parrying the next shot. He was losing the fight!

---

Kenshin collapsed to the ground, the hard, smooth surface cold beneath him. So cold. The lightsaber hilt was still clasped in his hand, though he could feel his life draining away with every ragged breath. The pain was nebulous, everywhere, the damage too great to comprehend. He almost found it amusing—how familiar he was with the feeling of dying.

With a final, determined breath, he lifted himself to his knees. The battle raged on around him, but the sounds seemed muffled, distant. This was it; he knew it with an odd calm. This would be his moment to die. The Clones were still pressing in, unrelenting, the very soldiers who had fought beside the Jedi for four long years, now turned against them in a cruel, twisted betrayal orchestrated by Sidious. Kenshin had tried to warn the Council, to urge them to see the truth, but it hadn't been enough. Now was not the time for regret—there was only this last stand, fending off the blaster shots of soldiers who were themselves victims of the Sith's endless greed.

Another squad surged forward. Fewer this time; the tide of attackers was finally beginning to thin. Kenshin deflected a few more shots, and one by one, the Clones fell—until only one in this current squad remained, relentless, marching toward him with blaster raised. For the second time, Kenshin's knees gave out, his body hitting the cold, unyielding floor. He allowed himself a flicker of dark irony. He, one of the most skilled lightsaber duelists in the galaxy, was about to die in a blaster fight. Defending the very Order he had once renounced.

Another blast fired, and with the last of his strength, he deflected it, felling the Clone who had fired it. He felt neither anger nor bitterness—only sadness that this Clone, like so many others, was yet another pawn in Sidious's game. There was nothing left for him to do. It's up to Anakin now, he thought. To bring this to an end, to save what is left of the Republic.

As the next Clone approached, Kenshin's vision blurred. His overstressed muscles fought to direct his blade, but his body had reached its end. He collapsed again, the lightsaber hilt rolling from his limp hand, its blade fading out. He sensed the fear and tension in the Clone's mind as he raised his blaster for a final shot. Kenshin tried to summon the hilt back to his hand, but he was too weak. He exhaled, surrendering to the inevitability.

May the Force exert her will.

A sudden, animalistic roar split the air, powerful, raw, and desperate all at once. Kenshin's senses flared as a pastel green-gold blur sliced through the space before him, filled with light and furious energy. The blade cut through the air, wielded by a small figure—a girl with gray skin and silver hair. His vision cleared just enough to recognize her.

The blaster shot never found him. It was deflected back at its source with pinpoint precision, and the Clone fell. Another shot, another deflection, then another, each one intercepted with flawless timing. Nari stood over him, her tiny frame radiating an unbreakable resolve as she formed an impenetrable shield with her bladework, blocking each shot with swift, exact movements.

The part of Kenshin's consciousness that still lingered, admired the cleanliness in the technique, mesmerized by its precision. Though he could sense her fear, her determination burned stronger, brighter, than her fear ever could. Her face, illuminated by the green-gold glow of the lightsaber, was the last image he could hold. A sense of peace washed over him. Then, everything faded into the waiting nebulae.