In the quiet hours between night and dawn, Cain sat at the Jedi Archives terminal, alone but alert. The Temple was silent, save for the distant hum of repulsorlifts and the soft footfalls of droids.
Before him blinked a secure communication interface, encoded with a system Fay herself helped him modify.
Cain whispered each message aloud as he typed, his voice soft—measured:
"Etain Tur-Mukan—You see the clones as people, not tools. You will understand what's coming more than most."
"Tallisibeth Enwandung-Esterhazy—Scout and Seer. I need your vision for what's next."
One after another, messages were sent.
Quiet invitations. Not commands.
Not a new Jedi Order.
Not yet.
Just the first whisper of a Circle—one that would be made of truth, courage, and those willing to ask the questions the Council refused to face.
Days later, Cain sat cross-legged beside Master Fay in the deep chamber beneath the Temple Gardens.
The air here was thick with ancient Force energy, nearly untouched by modern thought.
They sat in silence for over an hour—until Cain's mind began to drift. Not away from the Force—but into it.
His breathing slowed.
And then…
He saw it.
A world of ancient stone and streaming energy.
Twin moons floating above crystalline valleys.
Massive temples overgrown with vines but humming with power.
A place where the Force sang—not passively, but as if it remembered what it once was.
Tython.
He knew the name from fragments of his memories. Holocron whispers. Old texts barely accessed.
But now he felt it.
His eyes opened slowly.
Fay was already watching him.
"You saw something," she said.
He nodded. "Tython."
Fay inhaled softly. "The origin of the Jedi."
Cain stood slowly, his mind still half in the vision. "No one watches it. No one remembers. But it's alive."
Fay tilted her head. "And you intend to visit?"
Cain looked her in the eye.
"I intend to rebuild there."
She blinked. "With whose permission?"
Cain turned away, walking toward the chamber's edge.
"I won't ask."
That night, Cain, Anakin, Seris, Serra Keto, Derran, and Barriss met in one of the Temple's lower-level sparring rings—long unused, silent except for the distant hum of lights.
Cain stepped forward.
"You've all seen what's coming," he said. "The clones. The corruption. The Council's fear."
They listened, silent.
"I don't want to abandon the Order. Not yet. But I also won't wait for it to save itself."
He activated a small holomap—Tython, glowing faintly in blue.
"This is where we began. And it may be where we begin again."
Derran crossed his arms. "You mean to form a new Order?"
Cain shook his head. "Not yet. But I mean to prepare one. If the war consumes this one… there will be another."
Serra stepped forward. "And what would it be built on?"
Cain's voice was calm.
"Balance. Compassion. Understanding. Not detachment. Not blind loyalty. Not tradition without purpose."
Anakin spoke next. "And what do we do until then?"
Cain's eyes glinted.
"We train. We learn. We question. We find others."
Seris smirked. "Sounds like rebellion."
Cain's tone softened.
"No. Rebellion is destruction. This… is survival."
Codex Entry 013 – The Circle Begins
I've found them.
My people. My brothers and sisters. Not by blood, but by purpose.
Zayne replied. Etain too. Others are listening. Not ready to act—but listening. That's all I need right now.
The Council is holding itself together with old words and new fear. They will not move unless they are forced to.
So I will build quietly. With intention. With truth.
And if the Jedi fall, as they did before… Tython will still be waiting.
And so will we.