=== Dooku ===
The transport touched down with a soft hiss of depressurization, its metal ramp unfolding onto the cracked and ancient stone of Mantero, the forgotten moon of Serenno. Master Dooku, or perhaps he was no longer that, stepped down from the vessel in silence, his cloak pulled tight against the pale light of the planet high above him.
The air here was thin, cold, and untouched by time. A veil of mist clung low to the ground, and not a single bird cried in the distance. This place was quiet in the way that only a tomb could be. Before him stretched the Mausoleum of House Serenno, a cathedral of pale grey stone and black marble, built generations ago to honor the noble bloodline of Serenno.
He walked slowly, his boots echoing faintly across the frost-dusted flagstones. Each step carried him deeper into the mausoleum, the carved statues of his ancestors watching in eternal judgment from the alcoves. Great iron braziers lit themselves with flickers of Force-sensitive flame, responding to his presence.
He passed through vaulted halls, past the tombs of warriors, lords, and counts, his bloodline was ancient and storied. But his heart was unmoved. He had never truly belonged among them.
He paused before a tomb.
The inscription read: "Count Gora, Patriarch of Serenno."
His father.
A man he had hated. A man who had looked at his son's Force sensitivity as a stain, as a curse. Gora had hated him. And yet… here he lay, buried beneath a monolith of stone. Dooku stared at the tomb, his face unreadable.
Next to it, another grave. "Count Ramil."
Dooku had killed his brother years ago. Justice, at the time. But time made a man reflect. And Dooku knew he would not change what he had done.
He turned from the graves, stepping through an arched corridor that led into the courtyard of the mausoleum.
It was open to the stars, bathed in planetlight. Cold wind rustled the dead vines clinging to the old stone pillars. Here, the tomb of his mother rested. A simple crypt. Unlike the ornate monstrosities that housed the men of his house, her resting place was plain.
Perhaps that was fitting. She had always been quiet. Distant. But never cruel.
Dooku knelt at the foot of her tomb, his knees pressing into the frost-covered stone. Slowly, carefully, he reached into his satchel and withdrew the twisted weapon of a fallen enemy.
He set it on the stone in front of him like an offering, next to a small collection of parts, components of a new hilt. One meant to reflect the man he was now, or perhaps the man he was trying to become.
He took a long, slow breath, and closed his eyes.
Then, with practiced precision, he began dismantling the weapon.
The parts came apart with a hiss of depressurized seals and whispering servos. The emitter, the energy gate, the diatium power cell, all of it came undone until all that was left was the kyber crystal, blackened and bruised by years of rage, hate, and pain.
It pulsed as he brought it to his hands, whispering to him. A siren of what he could become if he gave into its whispers.
Dooku sat with the crystal cradled in his palms and let the Force wash over him.
He began the ritual.
He let himself sink deep into the current of the Force. His mind reached for the crystal, brushing against it. The darkness within it resisted him, coiling like a serpent, trying to bite into his mind with old venom.
Visions flooded his thoughts.
Of lightning ripping through the sky above Geonosis.
Of Yoda glaring at him across a battlefield.
Of Qui-Gon's broken and dead body.
Of a Sith Lord laughing.
He clenched his jaw. Sweat rolled down his brow as he saw visions of possible pasts and futures.
Pain began to swell up, not from the crystal, but from himself. From what he had done. What he had become. For years, he had worn pride like armor, using politics and philosophy to hide the rot that had crept into his soul from years of inactivity and slothfulness.
But here, there was no hiding.
The crystal was a mirror, and it showed him everything.
Anger surged in his heart. But it was not directed outward, it was turned on himself. He gritted his teeth, feeling the rage boil up again.
But then, a voice. Soft and familiar.
"Dooku… Let it go." A voice he thought he would never hear again said.
He opened his eyes and saw a woman kneeling next to him, a faint smile on her lips.
His eyes widened. The fury collapsed in on itself, replaced by something else.. maybe sorrow. Regret. He had been so cold to her in the past. But now as she looked at him, he felt as if she didn't care about any of that. He was here now.
"Im sorry. For everything." She said, a single tear rolling down her cheek.
He gathered himself, fearful his emotions would get the better of him.
"So am I, mother. I wished things had turned out differently. I wish I had been a better man back then." He said, his voice choking a bit.
Tears touched the corners of his eyes, the kind of tears that came from the terrible weight of self-awareness and grief.
He reached deeper into the Force, allowing that sorrow to guide him. Not to control him, but to fuel his resolve. To change.
The crystal began to glow in his palms.
Faint at first.
Then brighter.
The deep, wounded red of hatred shifted, slowly, painfully, to the rich, pure white of serenity.
The darkness bled away, burning off like fog in morning light.
The purification was complete.
The kyber crystal sang a quiet, mournful tone that echoed through the stone courtyard.
Dooku opened his eyes. And saw no one. It was done.
He opened his palm and the purified crystal began to float once more. The parts of the new hilt slowly began rising as well, constructing a new hilt. The emitter clicked into place. The focusing lens aligned. The power cell snapped shut.
A new weapon. A new path.
When he finally stood, he held the finished saber in his hands. He ignited it.
The white blade hissed into being, elegant, sharp, and radiant.
No longer the blade of a Sith.
Not quite the weapon of a Jedi.
But his own.
He stood in silence, alone beneath the stars of Mantero, bathed in the pale light of his mother's moon. And for the first time in many, many years…
He felt true peace.
He inhaled deeply and exhaled as one would at the end of a long meditation. His eyes remained closed, yet he sensed her long before she spoke.
"You don't belong here," a soft voice said, accompanied by the distant tapping of shoes against the stone path.
Dooku opened his eyes and looked at the grave of his mother one last time.
"Sister," he said without looking at her, brushing the dust from his robes as he turned. "I had wondered if you would come."
Jenza stood tall, clad in a simple but elegant dress of silver and violet. Age had graced her with dignity, her once raven-black hair streaked with gray, her gaze hardened by decades of political maneuvering.
She regarded the mausoleum with mild disdain, eyes pausing on their fathers grave for a moment.
"What are you doing here?" she asked, folding her arms. "After all these years, you appear like a ghost… desecrating the graves of those you have no love for with your presence."
Dooku's tone was impassive. "I come not to mourn the dead. I come to reclaim what is mine. The mantle of Count… the rule of Serenno. Our world has languished under weak hands for far too long."
Jenza's eyes narrowed. "And you would rule it as what? A Jedi exile? A Sith?" Her voice was full of venom, but beneath that, curiosity. "Or perhaps something worse?"
He turned fully now, gesturing for her to walk with him down the stone corridor that led back toward the landing zone. She hesitated for a moment before falling into step beside him.
"I would rule it as a son of House Serenno," he said. "And as a herald of the Imperium."
Jenza laughed, a bitter, sharp sound that echoed through the mausoleum. "The Imperium? Those fanatics? You would sell Serenno to them?"
"I would elevate Serenno," he corrected. "Bring order. Prosperity. Purpose. The Imperium offers strength where the Republic offered only bureaucracy and stagnation. And the Separatists only offer death and destruction."
"And what of our people?" she asked. "The noble houses will never bend the knee to a foreign regime."
Dooku's hands clasped behind his back as they walked, his footsteps measured and even. "Some houses may indeed resist. As the grass does the wind. But in the end, the grass always bows."
She stopped walking. "You're talking about civil war."
He turned to face her. "I am talking about purification. Of cutting away the rot. Serenno is noble, but it is prideful. The Imperium and I will shave the bloat and teach its people that the Nobility is there to serve the people, not the other way around."
A low rumble echoed through the air as they emerged from the mausoleum and onto the stone terrace that overlooked the rocky valley. The sky above shimmered with the glint of the strike cruiser in low orbit, and just before them, at the base of the path, stood the transport vessel that had brought him, sleek, gunmetal gray, adorned with the sigil of the aquila of the Imperium.
And descending from its ramp was Brother Aegis, Harbinger of His Fury
The dreadnought's massive form made the very earth tremble as he walked. Clad in hulking armor of blue and gold, adorned with purity seals and burning runes, Brother Aegis towered over both nobles. His warplate bore scars from countless battles, and his visor gleamed with silent menace.
The space marine's vox-amplified voice boomed as he approached. "What is taking so long?" he boomed. "I must bathe my chassis in the blood of the Emperor's enemies!"
Dooku offered him a bow of the head. "Momentarily, Brother Aegis. A few words more."
"Make it quick." The massive warrior halted, standing sentinel like a walking cathedral.
Jenza's gaze widened. "What is that?"
"An angel of the Emperor," Dooku replied. "A holy warrior. They will bring justice to this world."
"You mean death."
"I mean discipline." He looked her in the eyes now, the way only someone who knew you for decades could. "You know as well as I that the noble houses will never unify. Not without force. Not without fear. I offer them one last chance for peace."
Jenza's voice dropped to a whisper. "And if they refuse?"
Dooku turned back to the dreadnought waiting at the foot of the hill. "Then I will do what must be done."
He began to walk again, and she followed after a moment, her voice trembling just slightly now. "You'd kill them? Our cousins? Our family?"
"I have culled my blood before," he said. "And I will do so again."
They reached the base of the hill where Brother Aegis stood. The Dreadnought's gaze flicked between them silently.
Jenza looked up at her brother one last time. "You're not the man I once knew."
Dooku stepped forward, pausing at the open ramp of the transport. He turned only once to regard her.
"No, I am not."
He gestured toward Brother Aegis. "Begin planetary descent."
"At last." the marine rumbled.
The moment the words left his lips, the world around them seemed to shift. Dropships roared towards the planet above them from the strike cruiser. Thunderhawk gunships broke the clouds like hammers of judgment. The Imperium had come to Serenno, not as diplomats, but as conquerors.
And at the head of it all, Count Dooku walked the ramp of his ship with regal poise and unshakable purpose, his new lightsaber clipped to his side.
===
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