The following day I stood before the Temple's workshop in the early morning light. The workshop was located in one of the older sections of the temple tucked away in a corridor that most Jedi passed without a second thought. The door was a unassuming, simple durasteel with no markings, but beyond it lay one of the most important chambers in the entire Temple.
This was where lightsabers were born and reforged when Jedi occasional. Mainly Anakin. Breaks those lightsabers. Or if they want to restyle their hilts for whatever reason.
The Temple still quiet around me. Most Jedi were either in meditation or just beginning their daily routines.
Which was the perfect time for me to be here.
I pressed the access panel, and the door hissed open, revealing the workshop beyond.
The chamber was larger than it appeared from the outside, its walls lined with countless drawers and cabinets containing every component imaginable for lightsaber construction. Workbenches occupied the center of the room, each equipped with precision tools and diagnostic equipment.
Holographic displays flickered with schematics and design patterns, casting blue light across the polished floor. And at the far end of the workshop, standing before a sorting table covered with lightsaber components, was Professor Huyang.
The ancient architect droid was exactly as I remembered from when I made my lightsaber hilt last time. Except now I was taller.
From what it looked like he was in the middle of cataloging emitter matrices when I entered, his fingers were sorting through the delicate components with the care of a master craftsman.
"Professor Huyang, it is good to see you after so long."
The droid paused mid-motion, his head turning toward me with mechanical precision. For a moment, he simply stared at me, his photoreceptors brightening slightly as if adjusting focus. Then, with surprising speed, he set down the component he'd been holding and turned to face me fully.
"Ahh... Padawan Cain." His voice was still like David Tenant after all this time. "To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?"
I stepped further into the workshop, letting the door hiss shut behind me.
"I came because I heard you're one of the people who have to grant permission in order for someone to access Tarre Vizsla's holocron."
Huyang was quiet for a long moment. His photoreceptors dimmed slightly, then brightened again, as if he were processing something complex. When he finally spoke, his voice carried a note I'd never heard from a droid before.
"I haven't heard that name in a very long time." He tilted his head slightly, studying me with an intensity that made me want to squirm. "Tell me, Cain... did you finally learn the truth?"
My mind suddenly kicked into overdrive, thoughts racing at a hundred kilometers per second.
Did Huyang know I was a descendant of Tarre? No, that should be almost impossible. Even with DNA testing, after thousands of years of genetic drift and interbreeding, tracing a direct lineage would be nearly impossible. .
So what truth is he talking about? Does he mean something else? Something about the Darksaber? About Mandalore?
"...Huyang," I said slowly, choosing my words carefully, "do you mean me being a descendant of Tarre Vizsla?"
"Of course I do, Padawan Cain." His tone was matter-of-fact. "What else could I possibly mean?"
I felt my confusion deepen.
Okay, now I'm even more confused. How could he possibly know? I only found out myself recently. There's no way he could have known.
"Professor, how did you know I'm a descendant of Tarre Vizsla?"
Huyang's photoreceptors brightened, and if a droid could smile, I would have sworn he was doing so.
"Because he told me so, Padawan."
The world seemed to tilt slightly.
Wait, what...?
Before I could finish the thought, before I could even begin to process what that statement meant, the workshop door hissed open behind me.
I turned, and my heart sank.
Master Windu stood in the doorway, his presence filling the space. As his expression was stern, and unreadable, his dark eyes were fixed on me with an intensity that made my earlier conversation with Huyang seem trivial by comparison.
"Padawan Cain," he said, his voice carrying the weight of absolute authority. "I will have a word with you."
I was surprised to see Mace so soon after last night's revelation. The shrine beneath the Temple had only been discovered hours ago. I'd expected the Council to be in emergency session, not for Mace to be seeking me out personally.
Before I could respond, or begin to formulate an excuse or explanation, Huyang placed a hand on my shoulder. The gesture was gentle, almost paternal, and completely unexpected from a droid.
"Use the pearl and the ingot," he said quietly, his voice pitched for my ears alone. "They will point the way."
I glanced at him, confused. The pearl and the ingot? How are they supposed to point the way?
But Mace was waiting, and I knew better than to keep him waiting any longer than necessary. I bowed to Huyang, acknowledging his cryptic advice, then turned to face Mace.
"Master Windu," I said, keeping my voice respectful. "I'm ready."
Mace walked in front of me through the Jedi Temple without saying a word. The silence was oppressive, as our footsteps echoed through the corridors. The morning light streamed through the high windows, casting long shadows across the polished floors, and I couldn't help but feel like I was walking toward judgment.
As we passed through the more populated areas of the Temple, I noticed the stares.
Younglings paused in their morning exercises as they watched us pass, their eyes wide with curiosity. Knights and Padawans stopped their conversations mid-sentence, turning to observe Master Windu escorting me through the halls. Even the Temple Guards seemed to track our movement with more attention than usual.
The word must have gotten out, I realized with a sinking feeling. About everything I said yesterday.
I could feel their gazes, some curious, other's were concerned, a few openly disapproving. The whispers started as soon as we passed, spreading through the Temple like ripples on water.
"Isn't that Cain? The one who claims to have visions of the Order falling..."
"I heard he's a prodigy, but he also wants to start his own Order and allow attachments..."
"Isn't he the Padawan who everyone thought was the chosen one before Skywalker?"
"Master Windu looks more serious then normal..."
I kept my eyes forward, and kept my expression neutral, but inside I was a mess of conflicting emotions. Anxiousness, certainly, Master Windu was not someone you wanted angry at you. But also determination. I'd knew this confrontation was coming. I'd prepared for it. or at least, I thought I had.
We turned down a less-traveled corridor, heading toward the training wings. I'd expected Mace to take me to the Council Chamber, to face the assembled Masters and answer for my heresy. But instead, we were going somewhere else.
The answer came a moment later when Mace stopped before a familiar door, one of the older sparring chambers, the same type where I'd gathered the Jedi yesterday. He pressed the access panel, and the door hissed open, revealing the chamber beyond.
I saw Master Cin Drallig stood near the center of the room, his arms crossed over his chest. And beside him was Depa Billaba, her dark eyes filled with concern as they landed on me.
Why is it just the three of them, and not the full Council. Could this is be... what? A preliminary hearing, or probably a private interrogation?
I stepped into the chamber, and the door sealed behind me with a click sound that made my stomach clench.
"Masters," I said, breaking the silence, "what's going on here?"
Mace paused, his back turned to me. For a long moment, he simply stood there, and I could feel the weight of his thoughts pressing against the Force like a physical presence. Then, slowly, he turned to face me.
His expression was stern, but there was something else beneath it, something I couldn't quite identify. Was it concern? Or doubt? Maybe fear?
"What's going on, Padawan is that I want you to explain yourself." He took a step closer, his presence seeming to fill the chamber. "I have heard of your so-called visions of the Sith in the Republic, and how there is some great change coming to the galaxy. You even correctly predicted that there was a Sith shrine beneath the Temple."
He paused, letting that sink in.
"So now I am giving you the chance to explain yourself to me, and not the Council."
I blinked, surprised. Wait he's giving me a chance?
Mace Windu, the strictest adherent to the Code on the Council, is giving me an opportunity to explain before taking this to the full Council?
Why?
Maybe it's because of our history over my years in the temple? Or maybe he see's me as a sorta successor? It's hard to tell with him.
"Master," I said carefully, "what is the point of this?"
Mace's eyes narrowed slightly. "The point of this, Padawan, is that I need to get to the bottom of your so-called visions. If I can conclude that what you are saying is the truth, then I will believe you."
"And if you don't believe me?"
The temperature in the room seemed to drop several degrees from that question.
"Then I will call you, your master, and Master Fay before the Jedi Council. And depending on what their decree is..." He paused, and I could see the weight of what he was about to say in his eyes. "You three could be expelled from the Order."
So this is the trial before the trial. My last chance to convince him before this goes to the full Council.
I glanced at Cin Drallig and Depa. Depa looked tense, and concerned, as if she wasn't entirely sure how this was going to play out. her hand rested near her lightsaber, not threateningly, but ready. I didn't know if it was for me or against me. While Cin's expression was unreadable, but I could feel his attention focused entirely on me.
I hate being backed into a corner.
"And if I refuse?" I asked, meeting Mace's gaze directly.
Cin and Depa then exchanged a look. They clearly hadn't expected me to push back, to question Mace's authority in this moment.
Mace's expression hardened. "Then, Padawan, I will conclude that your actions are heretical and a betrayal of the Jedi Code. And I will take you before the Council for their deliberation."
The threat hung in the air between us, clear and unmistakable.
But beneath it, I felt something else in the Force, something faint but unmistakable. A tremor. Like the Force itself was holding its breath, waiting to see what would happen next.
What is this? It feels like... like something is about to shift. Like I'm standing at a crossroads, and the path I take here will determine everything that comes after.
I took a deep breath, centering myself. This is it. This is the moment where I either convince Mace that I'm telling the truth, or I lose his trust forever.
"Master," I said, my voice steady despite the hammering of my heart, "everything you heard was true."
Mace's stoic expression didn't change. His face remained a mask of controlled neutrality, but I could feel his attention sharpen, his focus narrowing to a razor's edge.
I continued, knowing I had to lay it all out now, had to make him understand.
"I don't know what was exaggerated or lost in translation, but everything you heard was true. I will be leaving the Order at some point. I will be going to Tython and creating a new order, as well as a new government. My order will allow attachments and the ability to learn different sides of the Force in moderation. And I will wage a war on crime and slavery throughout the galaxy."
The words fell like stones into still water, each one creating ripples that spread outward through the Force.
Mace looked at Cain deeply, his shatterpoint vision was focused entirely on Cain. Seeing this moment right now as a huge critical point in the Force.
Mace could see that Cain paths will lead to great light. Like the birth of many bright stars. But there was also more. This path will lead to great pain, and bloodshed, and... A great abyssal darkness. And then, slowly, impossibly, Mace saw those shatterpoints begin to disappear.
What? That's not supposed to happen. Mace thought.
Shatterpoints don't just vanish. They're fundamental cracks in the fabric of events, places where the future can be changed. They don't just....
But they were fading. One by one, the fractures that Mace could see around Cain were smoothing over, becoming solid, becoming certain.
Is Cain's future set in the Force? Can it not be changed or altered?
Mace is seeing something and he can't understand it. I could see the confusion in Mace's eyes, the way his brow furrowed slightly as he tried to understand what he was perceiving.I could also sense his feeling in the Force.
His shatterpoint vision had never failed him before, so what was he seeing to cause this response.
"Padawan Cain," he said slowly, his voice carrying a note of something that might have been concern, "you say that everything I heard is, for the most part, true. And you're not afraid of being expelled from the Order?"
"Yes, Master," I replied without hesitation. "And no, I am not afraid of being expelled from the Order."
"Why, Padawan?" Mace's voice grew harder, more intense. "After everything you've accomplished, you would just throw it away? I could understand if you were a Master with decades of experience. But you're only thirteen years old and a Padawan. Why do you think you know better than the Order and the Jedi Council?"
The tremor in the Force grew stronger. I could feel it now, like a low vibration running through the chamber, through the very stones of the Temple itself. Something was building, something was about to break, and I didn't know what it was.
But I know I have to keep going. I have to see this through.
An idea struck me then, one born from years of training and the strange connection I'd developed with the Force.
Words aren't going to be enough. Mace Windu is a warrior, a duelist, someone who understands the language of combat better than the language of philosophy. If I want him to understand, if I want him to truly see what I'm trying to do...
I need to show him.
"Master Windu," I said, my hand moving to my lightsaber hilt, "I have a suggestion. Instead of talking with our words, let's talk with our blades."
I unclipped my lightsaber from my belt, holding it loosely at my side. "So what do you say, Master?"
Depa and Cin both looked surprised, their eyes widening slightly at my audacity. To challenge a Council member to a duel, even a training duel, was bold to the point of recklessness. But Mace... Mace simply studied me, his eyes searching my me for something. Then, slowly, he nodded.
"Depa, Master Drallig," he said, his voice formal, "will you both preside over this conversation?"
Cin Drallig and Depa both nodded, moving to the edges of the chamber to observe. I could feel their concern in the Force, their worry about what was about to happen.
Then Depa spoke directly to me, her voice carrying a note of genuine concern. "Cain, are you sure you want to do this?"
"I am sure, Depa. I will let my techniques and lightsaber do my talking."
"Well said, Padawan," Mace acknowledged with a slight nod.
I know I can't beat Mace in a duel, I thought, my mind racing through possibilities and strategies. He's one of the greatest duelists in the Order, a master of Vaapad, someone who's fought and defeated countless opponents. I'm thirteenteen years old and still learning.
But this isn't about winning.This is about showing him, through the Force, through our blades, what I truly believe. What I truly am.
The chamber seemed to grow quieter, the morning light streaming through the high windows casting long shadows across the floor. Dust motes hung suspended in the air, and I could hear my own heartbeat, steady and strong.
Then, with a sudden burst of movement, both Mace and I ignited our lightsabers.
Snap-hiss.
The sound echoed through the chamber like a thunderclap. On one side, Mace's blade burned with that distinctive amethyst glow. On the other side, my blade ignited with its unique golden hue tinged with black.
The two colors cast competing glows across the chamber, painting the walls in shades of purple and gold. The hum of our lightsabers filled the air, a harmonic resonance that seemed to vibrate through the Force itself.
Without saying a word, we both took our stances.
Mace shifted into Vaapad's opening form. His blade was held high, angled slightly downward, a position that could transition instantly into offense or defense.
I settled into a hybrid stance, elements of Makashi's precision, Ataru's mobility, and Soresu's defensive foundation. My blade was held at a middle guard, ready to adapt to whatever came next.
For a moment, we simply stood there, our lightsabers humming in the silence. The Force swirled around us, thick with anticipation, with possibility, with the weight of everything that had led to this moment.
The tremor I'd felt in the Force earlier grew stronger, more insistent. This is it, this is where everything changes.
And then, in a calm second that seemed to stretch into eternity, we moved and our blades collided.
The impact sent a pulse of Force energy rippling through the chamber, washing over the walls, the floor, the observers. The sound was like a bell being struck, clear, resonant, carrying a echo not just through the physical space but through the Force itself.
Gold and amethyst light clashed and merged, casting wild shadows across the ancient stones. And in that moment, as our blades met and held, I felt something shift in the Force.
The duel had begun.