Setting: Outer Rim – Orbit above Korriban
Date: 24 BBY
The shuttle descended into crimson haze, Korriban's surface swirling below them like a graveyard caught in a storm. The world pulsed with darkness. Even the Force trembled here—its wounds old and deep.
Cain stood silently near the viewport, arms behind his back, the golden glow of his eyes dim in the low light. Anakin, arms crossed, paced behind him, while Seris leaned in the doorway, tense but quiet. Behind them, Master Fay and Plo Koon remained centered, but alert.
"This isn't just a meeting," Seris said. "You're walking into a lair."
Cain turned, eyes steady. "I know."
Anakin stepped forward. "Then let us go with you. You said it yourself—Dooku isn't what he was."
"He's not," Cain agreed. "But if there's any part of him left that can be turned… I have to reach it alone."
Fay watched him with deep thought.
"Do not let pride mask your purpose, Cain."
Cain nodded once. "It's not pride. It's strategy. I can't offer him a better way if I come with sabers drawn."
He looked at Anakin and Seris. "Trust me."
The ramp hissed open.
Cain stepped into the red winds of Korriban.
He walked alone across the barren sand flats, toward a jagged spire of obsidian rock. Faint statues lined the path—Sith Lords carved with snarls, claws, and agony. The wind carried whispers of the ancient and damned.
Cain didn't flinch.
His boots crunched stone. His cloak snapped against his heels.
And then, from the dark horizon, a figure emerged.
Tall. Imposing. Cloaked in fine robes of black and gray, with a curved lightsaber hilt dangling at his side.
Count Dooku.
His silver hair glinted in the fading light. His face, sharp as a dagger, showed no surprise—only the faint amusement of a master chess player studying a curious new piece.
"You came alone," he said, folding his hands behind his back. "Brave. Or foolish."
Cain stopped ten meters away. "Courage and foolishness often share the same road."
Dooku's lip curled. "So… the prodigy child. The boy who walks with Mandalorians and calls Jedi traitors. What do you want?"
Cain folded his arms.
"Truth."
Dooku arched a brow. "Is that so?"
"I know everything," Cain said quietly. "I know Sifo-Dyas didn't die in an accident. I know you used his name to commission the clone army. I know your true name in the shadows—Tyranus. I know you were trained by Yoda… and corrupted by Sidious."
Dooku blinked slowly, the wind ruffling his cape.
Cain stepped forward. "And I know you were never meant to fall."
Silence stretched.
The wind howled.
"You presume much," Dooku said finally, voice sharp. "Do you imagine yourself capable of judging my path?"
"I don't need to judge it. I can see it," Cain replied. "You lost faith in the Republic. You saw the rot. The weakness. The hypocrisy. And you wanted to burn it down."
Dooku's eyes darkened.
"But you joined the very man who caused it."
Dooku turned away, staring at the horizon. "The Jedi refused to act. They let the Republic decay. Let the Sith grow stronger. And still you serve them?"
"I serve the Force," Cain said. "Not the Order. Not the Senate. I'm building something new."
Dooku turned back, voice low. "Then why come here?"
Cain stepped closer.
"Because I believe you were right… before you were wrong."
"Because I think you still want to fix the galaxy.And if there's a part of you that remembers what it means to be Jedi…Then you know Sidious will burn this galaxy to the bone."
Dooku narrowed his eyes.
Cain took a breath.
"Join me. Help me expose him. Help me build something better."
Dooku's expression remained stone.
Then he reached for his belt—and the curved hilt of his lightsaber slid into his hand.
With a snap-hiss, a blade of deep red erupted into the wind.
Cain didn't move.
Dooku's voice dropped to a dangerous whisper.
"You walk into a Sith world and demand a traitor betray his master…And you believe I will follow a boy?"
Cain's voice didn't waver.
"No. I believe you were waiting for someone to give you a reason."
Dooku raised his blade.
"Then come, boy.Convince me."
Codex Entry 027 – The Tension of Two Futures
Dooku walks the edge of a blade he forged himself.He's not gone—not yet.But if he won't walk away from the darkness…Then I'll drag the truth into the light.
The winds screamed over the ancient ridge as Cain and Dooku circled each other beneath a burning red sky.
Golden light with a black hue ignited with a snap-hiss, Cain's saber humming like thunder behind silk.
Across from him, Count Dooku lowered into a flawless fencing stance, his crimson blade curving like a tongue of flame. Every movement was measured. Refined. Perfect.
"He's faster than I remember. Stronger."
Cain's thoughts were razor sharp. Dooku's blade flicked with elegance, no wasted effort, each movement a memory of decades spent mastering Makashi, the duelist's art. Cain didn't match it with one form—but all he had learned.
He became motion.
The blades clashed.
The sound rang like chimes wrapped in war.
Cain's saber swept diagonally—Dooku turned it aside with the flick of two fingers. He struck low—Dooku parried and riposted. Cain reversed the blade and forced Dooku to retreat a step.
They moved like fire and smoke, a blur of precise steps and perfect timing. Golden light spun like sunbursts, while Dooku's crimson blade danced like a viper's fang.
The duel rolled across the sand like a living storm.
"No anger," Cain reminded himself. "Only the Force."
But Dooku pressed him harder.
"You are skilled, boy," he said, voice calm even as his blade cracked against Cain's. "But knowledge… is not wisdom."
Cain answered with movement—a high feint, a low strike, a Force-augmented twist and dash—but Dooku slipped past, scoring Cain's arm with a narrow burn.
Cain stepped back, breathing slow.
"He's not Sidious. He fights like a man who once stood in the light."
Dooku advanced. Cain let him.
Then Anakin's voice echoed in his mind.
"You think too much. Shut out the world sometimes. Just be in the moment. That's how you live."
Cain ducked under a sweeping slash. His blade turned in perfect synchronicity—not from thought, but from feel.
Then Seris's voice:
"You have all the skill. All the training. But you still fight like you're waiting for permission. Let go. Your body knows. So does the Force."
Cain's eyes flared bright gold.
Everything slowed.
Dooku's next feint—he felt it.
The rotation of his wrist—Cain saw the intention before it happened.
The shatterpoint, the fracture in Dooku's tempo—Cain heard it in the Force like a crack in glass.
He moved.
Cain flowed under Dooku's blade and forced him back with a spin, landing blow after blow—one on his saber hand, one on his shoulder, one slicing through his cape.
The Count staggered.
Cain surged forward.
Dooku raised his blade again—but Cain struck it down and spun behind him in one smooth, blur-fast movement.
His golden blade stopped an inch from Dooku's throat.
Dooku froze. His breathing rough. His form no longer perfect.
Cain stood behind him, golden eyes calm, saber deactivated with a soft hiss.
Dooku didn't turn.
He spoke quietly.
"…Why did you stop?"
Cain lowered his blade, stepping in front of him, face steady, not proud.
"Because this was never about victory," he said. "It was about choice."
Dooku's brow furrowed.
Cain extended a hand. No tricks. No Force push. No illusion.
"Let me show you."
Dooku hesitated.
Then… he took Cain's hand.
The moment they touched, Cain's aura flared through the Force like a sun behind a veil.
Memories unfolded—visions from Cain's future life and the fate Dooku never saw coming:
The fall of the Jedi Temple, burning under storm clouds.
Sidious standing over a kneeling Anakin, red saber ignited.
The creation of the Empire, Dooku dead—cast aside. Betrayed.
Order 66. Betrayal by the clones he helped build.
The Death Star. Alderaan.
Vader, alone, broken, hollow.
The vision faded.
Dooku gasped and stumbled backward, knees crashing into the sand. His lightsaber deactivated, forgotten in his hand.
"He… was never going to share power."
Cain knelt beside him, voice quiet.
"He never does. He uses people. Kills them when they're no longer useful."
Dooku's hands trembled.
"What have I done…?"
Cain placed a hand on his shoulder.
"Nothing we can't fix. Together."
Codex Entry 028 – A Different Fall
Dooku was never weak. Never foolish.But he was alone. And angry.And when those things combined… the darkness gave him comfort.
But I gave him something else—choice.And when given that… he took my hand.
There may be hope for all of us yet.