Location: Tython – Council Hall, Early Morning
Date: 24 BBY
The sun had just begun rising over Tython's mountains, casting golden light into the round, open chamber where Cain, Anakin, and Seris sat on stone benches around a luminous display of the upcoming Outer Rim Enclave.
Holo-emitters glowed softly, displaying the planetary alliances, projected attendance, and talking points for the summit. Trade routes. Cloning ethics. Expansion of peacekeeping forces. It was to be Cain's largest speech since the holocron event, broadcast to thousands across the galaxy.
And yet—Cain's mind was elsewhere.
"I know the speech needs to be perfect," Seris was saying. "The representatives from Lothal, Christophis, and Felucia are still unsure about joining the alliance. You have to sell them on stability."
Cain nodded vaguely. "Stability's not the problem. It's hope. They've never had it. We need to give them more than words."
Anakin grinned beside him, arms crossed. "You'll have to talk louder than a thousand years of disappointment."
Then it hit them.
Both boys suddenly arched forward, clutching their chests and heads as if struck by unseen lightning.
"AHHH—!"
Cain collapsed to his knees, eyes wide, hands pressed to the stone. Anakin dropped beside him, his hand slamming the floor, teeth gritted. They weren't alone in their pain—it was pouring through the Force.
Two voices. Female. Raw. Terrified.
"Please—PLEASE—stop—!"
Chains. Heat. Sand. Blood.
Two red-haired girls, no older than seventeen.
One cried out as the whip cracked again.
The other screamed into the sky—
—and the Force screamed back.
Seris and Barriss rushed forward, grabbing their shoulders.
"What's happening?!" Seris cried, kneeling beside Cain.
Barriss reached Anakin, who was breathing hard, sweat beading on his brow. "Anakin—what did you see?"
Cain's eyes were glowing faintly now, pupils dilated with adrenaline. He slowly looked up at Anakin, who met his gaze with the same horrified understanding.
They said it together, voices tight with certainty.
"Tatooine."
The girls were slaves. Forgotten by the galaxy. But not by the Force.
Cain's voice was hollow when he added, "They're Force-sensitive. They called out... through it."
Anakin closed his eyes and clenched his fists. "I felt their pain like it was my own. Like it's always been there."
Seris looked between them, horrified. "You're saying this just happened?"
Cain nodded, rising to his feet unsteadily. "It's happening now."
Barriss's eyes went wide. "They're still alive?"
Cain confirmed it with a low, grim tone. "Barely."
Seris crossed her arms, stepping in front of Cain. "Then we go now."
Cain looked toward the west-facing window where the twin suns of Tython were rising. "Get Serra. Get Derran. We leave within the hour."
Tython – Hangar Bay
Twenty minutes later, Serra Keto jogged up the boarding ramp of the Valor's Echo, Cain's personal Jedi transport. Derran followed behind her, armed and focused.
"You sure it's them?" Serra asked, glancing at Cain as he pulled on his combat cloak and sealed it across his chest, despite the bruises still healing from Sidious.
"Two girls," Cain confirmed. "Red hair. Same age. Twin bond. Both strong in the Force. But chained… and hidden. Like someone's trying to erase them from history."
Anakin stepped up beside him. "Slaves… like I was."
Cain placed a hand on his friend's shoulder. "You'll be the one to free them."
Derran slid into the co-pilot seat. "Tatooine's not Republic space. It's lawless. Even the local hutts are struggling to control everything."
Serra crossed her arms. "Then we move quickly, quietly, and burn anything that gets in our way."
Seris nodded. "And if they're Force-sensitive, we bring them home."
Cain walked to the middle of the ship, where the others gathered. He looked at each of them.
"This isn't a mission. This is a promise."
He closed his eyes and focused, whispering into the Force:
"We're coming."
Codex Entry 041 – The Sand Cries Back
There are echoes only the Force can hear.
And in them—are cries from those the galaxy forgets.
But not us. Not this time.
We hear them. We feel them.
And we answer.
The twin suns of Tatooine cast long, oppressive shadows across the desolate alleyways of Mos Entha, a forgotten slum district carved in the dust where even moisture farmers feared to tread. The heat pressed down like a smothering hand, and the very air tasted like metal and sweat.
Cain stood motionless atop the landing ramp of the Valor's Echo, eyes closed, golden irises glowing faintly beneath the brow of his hood. At his side, Anakin mirrored him, their bond thrumming like a golden cord in the Force.
Then Cain's eyes snapped open. "There."
Anakin nodded. "I feel them too. South quadrant. Near the old refinery line."
Without a word, the team moved. Derran and Seris took high ground. Barriss followed behind, her focus already narrowed in anticipation of healing. Serra flanked Cain, eyes sharp. They moved like wind—quiet, purposeful, righteous.
Within five minutes, they were there.
And they saw them.
Two girls, no older than seventeen, their red hair tangled and sun-bleached, huddled beneath a scrap-metal awning in the corner of a makeshift holding pen. Chains bound their ankles and wrists, their skin raw and welted from repeated whippings. One had collapsed. The other held her sister, whispering something too faint to hear.
Three slavers stood nearby, laughing—until Cain descended on them like a storm.
He didn't speak.
He didn't give them a chance to beg.
The Darksaber ignited with a scream, slashing through the knee of one slaver, crippling him instantly. Another went for his blaster, but Cain moved faster, slicing through the arm—not to kill, but to maim, to mark. The third tried to run, only for Anakin to slam him into a wall with the Force.
The slavers screamed in agony as they crawled, fled, vanished into the alleyways.
Cain said nothing.
The two girls stared up at him, confused, eyes wide. One of them reached out, barely conscious.
Barriss was already kneeling between them, glowing hands pressed to their injuries, weaving healing energy with quiet strength.
"They'll live," she said gently.
Anakin stepped forward, igniting his amethyst blade, ready to slice through the iron shackles that still bound the girls.
But Cain stopped him with a hand.
"Don't," he said.
Anakin blinked. "What? Cain, they're chained."
"I know. But this is not for us to do."
He knelt before the girls, lowering his voice to a whisper that still carried in the silent Force.
"You've suffered more than any of us can imagine," he said. "You've screamed into the void, and no one answered—until now."
The girls looked at him, tears brimming in their cracked eyes.
Cain set down his Darksaber and then turned to Anakin.
Without hesitation, Anakin offered his lightsaber as well.
Cain placed both hilts on the ground in front of the girls. The silence deepened.
"This moment is yours," Cain said softly. "You can let us free you. Or you can take these weapons... and choose to break your own chains."
They hesitated, trembling.
"Make no mistake," Cain continued. "These blades are heavy. Not just in weight, but in meaning. Once you choose this path, you choose it forever. And that pain? That trauma? It will follow you, no matter where you run."
"But," he added, "when you break those chains… you own that freedom."
The two girls looked at each other. One whispered something to the other. Slowly—together—they reached forward and took the lightsabers.
They ignited them.
Amethyst and bright black lit the alleyway.
The girls looked at the cuffs binding them—and hesitated again.
One whispered: "They're heavy."
"Breaking chains always is," Cain said. "But the question is… do you have the conviction to see it through?"
Then—with a breath of fire and will—they brought the sabers down.
The chains shattered.
And the Force pulsed.
A wave of energy surged outward, momentarily lifting dust, making the nearby lights flicker. The girls stood, shakily, breathing in the first full breath of freedom they'd ever taken.
Their eyes, dull before, now shone with vivid, sparkling green—brilliant, Force-infused, full of something new.
Cain and Anakin knelt opposite them, forming a meditation pose. Cain's voice rang like a bell.
"Now… feel. Let it flow through you."
They closed their eyes.
Cain and Anakin entered a deep state of Battle Meditation, not for war, but for renewal. They poured the Force into the girls—not overwhelming, but opening the floodgates inside their cells, awakening power long buried beneath trauma.
The twins shook, gasping, as their muscles strengthened, their injuries faded, their very cores aligning with a clarity they had never known.
Then they turned.
And sprinted down the alley, following the scent of their captors.
No one said a word.
The Jedi waited, as ordered.
Sixty seconds later, it was done.
The girls returned, covered in ash and blood—but not their own.
Then their lightsabers deactivated. They dropped to their knees.
And cried.
"Why…?" one choked. "Why didn't you come sooner? We screamed for so long…"
Cain and Anakin knelt on either side of them. They wrapped their arms around the girls.
Tears fell from both boys, too.
"We're sorry," Cain whispered. "We're so, so sorry."
"But we're here now," Anakin said, voice thick with guilt. "And we'll never let you be forgotten again."
The girls finally went still.
Then passed out.
Cain caught one before she hit the ground. Anakin the other.
They looked at each other, saying nothing.
But in their hearts, a vow had been made—and it would echo through the Force forever.
Codex Entry 042 – Flame and Freedom
Chains do not just bind bodies.
They bind souls.
And those who break them… become more than free.
They become fire that never stop burning.