I launched at Dooku with such fury that it felt like my lightsabers could split the very air itself.
I became a blur of motion, gold flashing and indigo streaking like captured lightning, my blades carving through the space between us with passionate lethality. My feet barely touched the earth as I propelled myself forward with a burst of raw Force-infused speed that made the grass beneath me flatten and ripple outward.
My movements shifted seamlessly, this was Jar'Kai and Vaapad fused together, merged with the unpredictable fury and deadly speed of Djem So. My two sabers became one storm with two angles of moving death, each blade complementing the other in a dance of violence that would have made Master Windu proud.
Each strike I sent was a perfect intersection of precision and violence. Each movement flowed like a river, smooth and inevitable, yet struck like a Krayt Dragon—sudden, devastating, overwhelming.
PHAM!
Dooku's eyes narrowed. Rather than retreating, he stepped forward to meet me.
His Makashi danced and merged seamlessly with his other lightsaber forms, making his red blade become a weapon of surgical perfection. Every parry was economical, every counter-strike placed with mathematical precision.
SHHK! WHAM! KRAAAK!
The field around us disappeared behind the clash of color. Flashes of gold, streaks of indigo, with Arcs of crimson. The sound of our strikes shook the air of the clearing, each impact sending ripples through the Force itself. Every attack followed by a counter-blow, every strike followed by deflection or redirection.
It was like the unstoppable force meeting the immovable object.
I pressed forward relentlessly, my eyes burning gold with focus and fury. I wasn't going to let Dooku get away with hurting Anakin. While Dooku flowed backward with practiced ease, each step placed exactly where it needed to be, his footwork a masterclass in defensive positioning.
That's when I began to feel the build-up. The storm inside me was growing, expanding like a supernova waiting to explode. I felt power rising, pressure building like a tide that refused to recede. For the first time, I truly understood the Sith code when they said: "Through passion, I gain strength."
All this time I had been using serenity, the calm center that Master Plo taught me. Balance was his way. But like Windu, I had a natural desire to fight, a hunger for the clash of blades and the test of skill. And here, for the first time in my new life, I could cut loose. I could let the passion fuel me without fear of falling.
A small smile formed on my face despite the pain radiating through my body. I was becoming excited, almost drunk on the power I was gaining in the moment.
Then my Shatterpoint vision flared to life.
I could see everything. The river of flowing events in the Force spread out before me like a vast web of possibilities. I saw the potential outcomes, not with images, but like I was seeing the Force itself move in certain patterns and currents. And for a split second, I could see Dooku's form fracture, his shatterpoints flared brighter where there was weakness in his stance, in his form itself.
Thin spiderweb cracks appeared across his body. Glass-like fractures shimmering through his shoulders, his wrists, the angle of his blade. They were so beautiful, so intricate and delicate, that I almost felt bad for wanting to destroy them.
But I already knew that I couldn't reach them.
Every time I angled for a strike at those glowing fractures, Dooku shifted and redirected my blade, or pivoted that weakness out of my range with minimal effort. It was like trying to catch smoke, the moment I reached for it, it was already gone.
Dooku felt it too, my rise in power, the dangerous momentum building. He knew the danger of letting the fight stretch on. If he gave me time to adapt, time to grow into this new strength, it would end in his defeat.
His expression sharpened and his speed doubled in an instant. His counters grew harsher, more brutal. His footwork became sharper, more aggressive. His strikes came faster, a crimson blur that my eyes strained to follow.
Just half a second, just a fragment of a moment, and Dooku became too fast to fully perceive. Our next exchange was a blur of motion and sound, SLASH! CLASH! SHHK! WHAM!
I lunged in for a heavy two-blade strike, committing fully to the attack. But Dooku pivoted with inhuman grace. Then with a simple twist of his wrist, KRAKKOOOM!
Force Lightning erupted like a thunderstorm exploding from his outstretched hand. This wasn't a bolt, or even a stream. This was a storm, a tempest of raw dark side energy. I barely crossed my blades in time, forming an X-guard to catch the onslaught.
Lightning ROARED across the field, engulfing me in blinding white-blue light that turned the world into nothing but pain and electricity. The smell of ozone and burning cloth filled my nostrils. My teeth clenched as I tried desperately to use Tutaminis to absorb the lightning, channeling it through my body and into the ground. But my muscles still burned, my nerves screaming in agony.
The lightning overpowered my guard, searing along my arms, chest, and legs, snapping violently across my nervous system like a whip made of pure agony. I screamed through clenched teeth, the sound torn from my throat against my will.
And then, through the blinding storm of electricity, Dooku appeared in front of me. His lightsaber moved like a crimson meteor shower, his blade a blur of deadly precision. He struck with inhuman speed, ten, twelve, fifteen strikes in under two seconds.
SHHK...SHHK...SHHK...SLASH...WHIP...THRUM...
They were all non-lethal strikes, carefully placed to wound rather than kill. But each one was agonizingly painful, designed to break my will and my body simultaneously.
Fire cut across my shoulders, a burning line that made my left arm spasm. Another slash across my chest, shallow but searing. My right arm took a glancing blow that made my fingers go numb. Lines of burning agony streaked down my ribs, across my thigh, along my side. Blood seeped into my robes, warm and wet, the fabric clinging to my wounds.
My breath was ripped from my throat in ragged gasps. Each wound sent fresh waves of pain cascading through my nervous system.
Dooku ended the sequence with a final, elegant flourish, his blade sweeping upward in a perfect arc.
The crimson blade grazed my face, SKRRRSHHH...
A patch of my white hair drifted to the ground, severed cleanly and smoking slightly. A searing vertical slash carved through my left eyebrow, down across my eyelid, and continued to the top of my cheek. The pain was immediate and overwhelming, a white-hot line of agony that made my vision explode into stars.
I screamed, a horrible, primal sound of pain that rippled through the forest and sent birds scattering from the trees.
Dooku stepped back, calm and cold, not even breathing hard. His expression was one of mild disappointment, like a teacher who had expected better from a promising student.
"I will admit you have shown me more than Skywalker did," he said, his cultured voice carrying easily despite my ragged breathing. "But you are still lacking... Padawan."
My vision blurred from the searing pain, blood running down the left side of my face and dripping from my chin. My world flickered between clarity and darkness, consciousness threatening to slip away.
Yet when I lifted my head, my right eye, my golden pupil glared up at Dooku with a rage and fury that could burn stars to ash.
Dooku smirked, a cold expression that held no warmth. "Good. Let your anger flow."
I spat blood onto the grass and rose, staggering but unbroken. My legs trembled beneath me, but I refused to stay down. I refused to give him the satisfaction.
"I'm just getting started... old man," I said, anger dripping from every word as I fought through the pain that threatened to overwhelm me.
I lunged forward again, both blades swinging in desperate arcs. But Dooku elegantly countered me with such ease it was almost insulting. His red blade met mine with minimal effort, deflecting my strikes as if they were nothing more than an annoyance.
I came back with another strike, pouring everything I had left into the blow. But he simply blocked, meeting every attack like he couldn't be bothered to try anymore.
I noticed it immediately.
He's not even trying anymore. It's like my power has gotten weaker.
My teeth clenched as I dug deeper into the Force, drawing on reserves I didn't know I had. With a burst of speed and a feint with Anakin's indigo blade, I tried one last gambit.
The indigo saber came down in a vicious arc, meant to draw Dooku's defense high. I then pivoted, bringing my golden blade around low, angled perfectly for his exposed side. For a split second, I thought I had him, the blade was almost touching his robes.
But Dooku vanished in a blur of Force-enhanced speed. He then reappeared behind me, and I felt it before I saw it, a burning line slashed across my back with a sound like tearing fabric, SKRSSHHK!
My knees buckled instantly, my vision shaking with white lights that exploded across my field of view. Pain detonated through my spine, radiating outward in waves that made my entire body convulse.
I fell to my knees, my breath torn from my lungs, my limbs barely responding to my commands. My lightsabers deactivated and fell from nerveless fingers, hitting the grass with soft thuds.
Dooku stepped toward me slowly, deliberately, raising his blade for the finishing blow. The crimson light cast my shadow long across the grass.
"So disappointing," he said softly, almost gently. "But I will not kill you, Cain. I want to see which of you or Skywalker will be truly worthy of apprenticeship. Not to mention my master will want to know how you know so much." He paused, tilting his head. "But perhaps I think it is best to kill you now after all. If I let you live you will become a problem."
I said nothing. The strength had left my body completely.
I can't move. Is this how this ends?
My mind spiraled in despair. Anakin needs help. The Order needs to be guided and warned about Palpatine and everything else. And... Seris. My thoughts caught on her name, lingering there. Why? Why in my last moments am I thinking of her?
The crimson lightsaber fell with a sound like rushing wind. FWOOOM!
But a new lightsaber ignited in brilliant blue, blocking it with a sharp CRACK of plasma meeting plasma.
Dooku's eyes narrowed in surprise. Standing in front of me, arm extended, his mask glowing faintly in the light of his blade, was my Master Plo Koon.
"Dooku," Plo said, his voice low and trembling with barely restrained fury that I had never heard from him before. "Step away from my Padawan."
Dooku's expression chilled, becoming even colder if that was possible. "Master Plo Koon. It is... good to see you again. A shame it's under these circumstances."
Then the forest lit up like a constellation coming to life.
One by one, dozens of blades ignited in the surrounding trees. A mixture of blue, green, and yellow plasma cast dancing shadows across the clearing. Jedi were emerging from the treeline, Masters and Knights I recognized, their faces set with grim determination.
On the opposite ridge, silhouettes appeared against the darkening sky. Mandalorians in blue and multicolored armor materialized from cover, their jetpacks humming with barely contained power. Rifles and vibroblades were drawn, all pointed at Dooku.
Dooku assessed the battlefield with a single sweeping glance, his tactical mind calculating odds and outcomes in an instant.
"I believe..." he said calmly, as if discussing the weather, "that our conversation is over."
Plo struck first, his blue blade a blur of controlled fury. Dooku met him, CLASH...FLARE...CLASH...their lightsbaers singing as they exchanged a rapid sequence of strikes that would have overwhelmed lesser duelists.
Other Jedi rushed in to support, their blades raised and ready. Then Dooku thrust out his hand with a snarl. BOOOOM...!!
A tidal wave of Force lightning exploded outward in all directions, a dome of crackling energy that forced the Jedi to leap back or be consumed. The grass blackened and smoked where the lightning touched it.
And then, in the chaos and blinding light, Dooku vanished into the forest, a blur of Force speed and dark robes, fleeing toward where his ship waited in the hidden clearing.
Plo raised a hand, stopping the Jedi who moved to pursue. "Do not pursue! Anakin and Cain need immediate medical attention, and we must secure the temple!"
His voice carried absolute authority, and the Jedi obeyed instantly, turning their attention to the wounded.
Master Fay was already with Anakin, her hands glowing with healing energy as she desperately worked to stabilize him. Her ancient face was creased with concentration and concern.
Seris and Barriss knelt beside me, their hands moving over my wounds. I felt the warmth of their healing touch, the Force flowing through them and into me, knitting flesh and easing pain.
But consciousness was slipping away from me like water through my fingers. I drifted into darkness, a void of cold and silence.
It was peaceful at first, a welcome respite from the pain. But then I felt something else in the darkness. A presence it felt so ancient, and vastly terrifying
A voice appeared, cold and silky, yet eerie and deeply dark. It seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once, resonating through the void itself.
"...soon..."
The words echoed through the emptiness, each syllable carrying weight beyond meaning.
"You have awakened me... so soon..."
The voice was so ancient and deep it sent primal fear shooting through me, the kind of terror that existed before language, before thought.
"You will know my love..."
I instinctively tried to reach for it, drawn by some terrible curiosity. But before I could touch whatever waited in that darkness, I was pulled back, yanked away from the void by hands I couldn't see.
I awoke with a sharp gasp, my body jolting upright.
Agony followed immediately, every wound screaming in protest at the sudden movement. I collapsed back onto the bed with a groan, my breath coming in short, painful gasps.
I lay in a healing bed within the Tython Temple medical wing. The room was quiet except for the soft hum of medical equipment and the distant sound of footsteps in the corridor. My robes had been replaced with clean bandages that wrapped around my torso, arms, and face. One eye was covered with a bacta patch, the cool gel soothing against the burning wound beneath.
My entire body ached with a deep, bone-weary pain that spoke of serious trauma barely held at bay by medical intervention.
I turned my head slowly, carefully, and saw the bed next to mine.
Anakin lay there, unconscious. His face was pale, almost gray, and covered in a thin sheen of sweat. Medical monitors beeped softly, tracking his vital signs.
His right hand... was gone.
Where his hand should have been, there was only a bandaged stump, freshly treated and wrapped in clean white cloth. The absence was stark, impossible to ignore.
My breath hitched in my chest. My fists clenched, the knuckles going white despite the pain the movement caused.
A rage unlike anything I'd felt before rose inside me, not the hot, passionate fury of battle, but something colder and more focused. A determination forged in failure and tempered by guilt.
"Too weak..." I whispered, my voice hoarse and broken. "I'm still too weak..."
My golden eye, the only one not covered, narrowed as I stared at Anakin's still form. The weight of my failure pressed down on me.
"I need to become stronger," I said quietly, the words a vow spoken to the empty room and to myself. "Or I won't be able to protect anyone."