( 3400 Words , )
Every Master shifted uneasily, but it was Yoda who spoke next. Not in riddles, not in cryptic fragments—but with clarity. His voice was calm, deliberate, each word carved clean.
"Obi-Wan. You stood at Jin-Woo's side when these words were spoken. You will tell us what was said. And hear this clearly—we will not lash at you. We will not judge you. Nor will we comment. We will simply listen in silence. Save for the Chancellors—for they, too, must hear this truth."
The chamber blinked—once, twice. Even Palpatine faltered, his composure jolted by surprise. What in the Void ? This goblin can speak plainly?, not riddles? For the briefest flicker, suspicion darted across his thoughts.
Obi-Wan inhaled deeply, his voice carrying the weight of reluctance.
"Thank you, Master Yoda. I understand now why my Master Qui-Gon was uncertain to say it. Because it is confusing. Even dangerous, if true."
He glanced around the chamber, then steadied himself.
"These were Jin-Woo's words to Maul:
'Instead, you work for Sidious—a Sith Lord who, funny enough, still has a master pulling his strings. And you don't even realize you're just an expendable bullet in someone else's chamber. The attack dog of Sidious.'"
Obi-Wan's words echoed through the chamber like a strike of thunder. The Jedi sat rigid, but it was Palpatine who felt the knife twist deepest.
Inside, his fury seethed. Sidious—a Sith Lord who still has a master pulling his strings.
The phrase gnawed at him. His mask of calm politician remained flawless, but behind his eyes was fire. Jin-Woo knows. He doesn't know how much, but . He knows I am not the end of the chain. He knows there is another above me.
And that meant Plagueis.
Palpatine's knuckles brushed his robes, his mind racing. Did my master falter? leave a trace without realizing it? Is Jin-Woo playing us both? If Jin-Woo knows I am apprentice to Plagueis, then everything could unravel.
In his ear, through the hidden comms, Plagueis's voice slithered in calm assurance.
"Sidious… I did not screw things up. You know how cautious I am. Jin-Woo does not know our true identities. But mark this: he carries something inside him that neither of us understands. He sees too much of the board already. But he does not yet see the players."
Palpatine's fingers tightened. He texted back in a hidden channel, the words sharp, urgent.
Could he be seeing the future… or the past? Our plans are still forming, but something always feels… off. As though we are being allowed to reach this point. Guided into it.
The reply came after a beat, heavy as durasteel.
"Then hear my new order, Sidious. Jin-Woo is not to be opposed. Watch him. Draw him closer. Let him believe he dances free, when in truth he dances on our stage. Through third parties, if possible, lead him to Cato Neimoidia. There, he will reveal what he truly is. And from there… we decide whether he becomes an ally, a pawn… or something to destroy."
Mace Windu's tone was firm, but he carried himself with discipline, not judgment.
"That's a clear explanation, Obi-Wan. But I'm not here to condemn or praise. I'll remind us of history: the archives are still intact, and they teach us this—there are always two Sith. No more, no less."
Ki-Adi-Mundi nodded sharply, his voice brisk and pragmatic.
"Exactly. The path forward is obvious. We don't need to waste our time chasing shadows. Perhaps Jin-Woo was only babbling—after all, he does not live by the Jedi Code. And even if his words were true, our numbers outlast the Sith, as they always have. For millennia, the Jedi have brought light to this galaxy and to the Republic. The Sith may wield the dark side, but their power is shallow compared to what we sustain. They cannot outlast us."
A slow, deliberate sound cut across his words. Clap. Clap. Clap.
All eyes turned toward Dooku. He was smirking faintly, the sound of his applause ringing like mockery in the hallowed chamber.
"Very good," Dooku said, his tone laced with irony. "Very, very good. From where I sit, you all sound exactly the same as when I left."
Plo Koon's mechanical rasp interjected, steady but probing. "You seem displeased, Dooku."
"Oh, I am," Dooku replied, his voice dropping to a rich, biting sarcasm. He spread his hands in a theatrical gesture.
"Displeased, and not the least bit surprised. Because what have you done here? You've broken the very first rule Master Yoda gave us—be silent, think first, do not comment until the moment calls. And yet here you are, scrambling, contradicting one another, clawing for comfort in old words." His eyes swept the circle, sharp as blades.
"You haven't changed. Not an inch. Still the same Jedi Council that wallows in politics and pretends at wisdom. You all might condemn Maul as an 'attack dog of Sidious'—but what are we?"
Dooku smile hardened into a cold sneer. "Attack dogs of the Republic. Leashed to a Senate that rots before your very eyes."
He rose smoothly from his chair, cloak sweeping behind him.
"Thank you for your hospitality, everyone. And may the Force be with you… if it truly still is. But I doubt it."
Windu's eyes narrowed, his tone edged with restrained irritation.
"Dooku. You're always the same as Qui-Gon. Always questioning. Always playing the maverick. Why must you make this situation worse than it needs to be?"
Dooku's voice sharpened, dripping with disdain.
"And you are always pretending things are better than they are. But they're not. My respect in this chamber lies only with Master Yoda… and with my old Padawan, Qui-Gon. Perhaps even young Obi-Wan—since Qui-Gon has always spoken highly of you. And he was right. You are the kind of student every master wishes for."
Obi-Wan inclined his head slightly, his tone respectful.
"Thank you, Master Dooku."
Dooku's composure flickered—irritation flashing across his face. He turned, sweeping his gaze across the chamber.
"But the rest of you? No. I cannot. And the Senate least of all. They are the same sloppy, self-indulgent body I've always known—blaming the citizens while growing fat, blind, and corrupt. And then… they call on the Jedi. They send us out again and again to clean up their mess. And some of us die for it. But we are told to forgive them. Why? Because that is the Code. The Jedi Code."
His cloak swirled as he turned for the exit.
"I have my own path to follow. And this time, I have made up my mind."
The doors parted, and Count Dooku left the Council chamber.
Qui-Gon stepped forward, his tone calm but resolute.
"Master Yoda, I have said what needed to be said. But there is another task I must see through. Will you grant me leave?"
Yoda's ears twitched, his eyes heavy with thought.
"Permission granted. Your path, walk it you must."
Qui-Gon inclined his head, then turned.
"Obi-Wan. I'll need you with me."
"Understood, Master," Obi-Wan replied, following close behind as the doors closed again.
The chamber was left in tense silence. Then Tarkin's cold voice cut through, sharp and disdainful.
"You should have imprisoned them, Master Yoda. Because of your leniency, we may now have three who will turn rogue. And if they do, their blood will be on your hands."
Mace Windu's eyes narrowed, his voice like steel.
"You don't understand our situation, Chancellor Tarkin. For once, Dooku was right . On the Senate. and the Republic. You fail to do your job, and when chaos follows, you expect the Jedi to bleed for it."
The underground storage chamber of the Jedi Temple was dim, dust rising with every step. Old crates and relics of forgotten campaigns lined the walls. The hum of Coruscant above was faint, like a distant echo.
Obi-Wan folded his arms, studying his master with a skeptical frown.
"Master, I won't question your intention here. But is there a concrete objective to this? Why come all the way down into the Temple's underbelly?"
Qui-Gon brushed his hand over the stone wall, his eyes narrowing.
"My intention is clear enough. To dig. Jin-Woo and the Daughter of Mortis have both pressed me on this—nudging, hinting. If we want the truth, Obi-Wan, this is where it begins. Beneath our own feet."
Obi-Wan hesitated, then spoke quietly, as though repeating a memory.
"Morgan once said something, Master. Her exact words: 'Why the fuck is there something—the opposite of everything you claim to be—planted right beneath your feet? In the heart of your holy place? Tell me… are you out of your minds?'"
Qui-Gon's brow furrowed, though a small huff of amusement left him.
"Obi-Wan. You don't need to repeat the swearing. It's good that you can recall another's words, but you needn't mimic their temper. Copy the meaning, not the profanity."
For ten long minutes they worked, Obi-Wan's lightsaber carving through dense stone while Qui-Gon lifted cut slabs with the steady pull of the Force. Dust and fragments littered the floor, the silence broken only by the hum of plasma and the grind of rock.
Obi-Wan wiped sweat from his brow, voice edged with impatience.
"All we've found are rocks, Master. Stones and more stones. Are you certain this is the right place? What if we destabilize the Temple , this whole chamber tilts the foundation?"
Qui-Gon didn't stop, his expression resolute.
"I am confident. The Force is strong here. Something calls to be uncovered, and I cannot ignore it."
Then—Obi-Wan's blade struck something different. Not stone, not metal. A pulse thrummed through the air, humming against his skin. He recoiled slightly.
"Master—there's something here. . A seal of some kind. I can't cut through it."
Qui-Gon reached out with the Force, frowning as his power slid off the barrier like water off glass.
"…Nor can I lift it."
Before either could speak further, a smooth, cultured voice drifted from behind them.
"And what, exactly, are two troublemakers doing here?"
Both Jedi froze. Qui-Gon turned slowly, bracing for a reprimand from the Council—but relaxed at the sight before him.
"Master… Dooku. I thought you were bound for Serenno."
Dooku stepped forward, tall and commanding even in the dim chamber. His voice carried warmth, though his eyes studied the stones sharply.
"I was. But on my way, I noticed the two of you sneaking about—not in the Archives, but down here, in the dust and storage vaults of the Temple. It seems curiosity pulled you further than most would dare. So—how can I help in your… objective?"
Qui-Gon hesitated, lips parting but no words coming. The room was silent save for the faint hum of Obi-Wan's saber, still ignited.
It was Obi-Wan who finally spoke, his tone earnest.
"Master Dooku… my master believes Jin-Woo's so-called 'jokes.' That there is something buried beneath this place. And—" he gestured to the stone, "—there's a seal here.. Something we cannot pass through."
Dooku's gaze lingered on the faint shimmer of the seal, then shifted back to the two. His voice was calm, measured.
"First, I need to confirm something. Because clearly, you two have been dragged into Jin-Woo's problems as much as I have. I should admit—there is something he's done to me. A seal, of sorts. Certain words… I cannot even speak them."
He paused, the faintest trace of irony curling his lips.
"But to the main topic—do you know Jin-Woo's other identity?"
Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan shared a glance, then spoke in unison.
"The Armored Man."
Dooku smiled faintly, a rare warmth flickering in his aristocratic features.
"Good enough. Then welcome to the club of those who know his truth. Though, truth be told, I've long since tried to make his life a spectacle—turning him into something of a celebrity, so his normal life would be ruined."
Qui-Gon's expression hardened slightly.
"His life is already infamous, not famous. After what he pulled at the Rotunda, he's feared more like a tyrant than hailed as a hero."
Obi-Wan's smirk cut through, his voice dry.
"I'd call him a necessary guard dog. The Senate is still terrified. And terrified politicians are far less likely to try their usual schemes against us."
For a moment, all three shared a laugh—an uneasy but genuine one. The realization settled in: each of them knew the truth, and that truth bound them together.
Dooku straightened, his voice turning serious again.
"Very well. I'll scan this ward. If Jin-Woo insisted something lies beneath here, it means he saw what the rest of us cannot. And if he saw it… then it must be worth uncovering."
Obi-Wan tilted his head, muttering just loudly enough to be heard.
"Or he was just being a lunatic."
Dooku ignored the jab, closing his eyes and letting his hand drift across the stone. He reached out with the Force, feeling the deep layers carved into the ward. His brow furrowed.
"This seal… it is old. Five thousand years, at least. Ancient Jedi work. But it isn't a foundation stone. It's more than that. There's text, buried in the weave."
Obi-Wan leaned closer, frowning.
"Perhaps it was part of the Temple's foundation. A structural safeguard. Or maybe… Jin-Woo was just drunk when he told us to look here. A prank, nothing more."
But Dooku's tone was measured, weighty.
"No. Listen to this."
He exhaled, and in the dim chamber, he spoke the words as they stirred within the stone:
Beneath these halls, let silence reign,
The roots of shadow shall not remain.
Keep sealed the truth, let none descend,
For light endures till shadow's end.
So long as walls of stone still stand,
The dark is stayed by Jedi hand.
The words faded, echoing against the vaulted chamber. A stillness followed, heavy with unspoken questions.
Dooku's gaze darkened, his voice grim.
"This seal was not meant to guide us. It was meant to bury something… and keep it buried. Whatever lies beneath, it was never intended to be opened. Something here is very wrong."
Qui-Gon's gaze sharpened, the hairs on his neck rising.
"Can it be deciphered? . If it is layered, then there must be a way through."
Dooku nodded grimly, drawing his cloak tighter.
"There is only one way to know. This ward is woven with the Force itself. It will not break under saber or stone. Only harmony—three of us, aligned—may unravel it. Together, we must touch it. not as masters or apprentices… but in unison."
Obi-Wan's jaw tightened, unease written plainly across his face.
"Either we unlock a door the Jedi sealed five millennia ago… or we tear down the very thing that was keeping it shut."
Qui-Gon and Dooku were already stepping into position, aligning themselves as if preparing for a ritual.
Yet Obi-Wan lingered, his voice low, troubled.
"I have a bad feeling about this. This seal… it feels forbidden. And worse—what if even Master Yoda doesn't know it exists? What are we about to unleash?"
Dooku turned to him, his expression solemn but resolved.
"For too long we've walked in circles, Obi-Wan. Always the same pattern: a corrupt Senate, revolts among the people, and the Jedi sent to clean up the mess. And where does it leave us? Ever further from what our true purpose should be."
His gaze returned to the ward, the faint glow pulsing like a heartbeat across the stone.
"You are right. This is dangerous. But I believe it is worth the risk. If something has been hidden here since the dawn of the Temple, then the truth beneath our feet may be the key to why we have strayed so far. And I, for one, would rather uncover it than continue pretending ignorance will save us."
Together, the three moved as one. Qui-Gon and Dooku, masters seasoned in the Force, and Obi-Wan, the apprentice, still raw but strong. They reached out, their harmonies in the Force intertwining, weaving together like a chord struck across the ages.
The ward blazed. Circles of light spiraled outward, its bindings loosening as though at last it was willing to yield.
Obi-Wan let out a half-breath, tension bleeding away.
"That's it. It's opening. Almost too easy."
Qui-Gon's eyes narrowed, his hand tightening.
"Too easy… for a seal this old."
Dooku's gaze flicked back to the poem etched in the stone—and froze. Lines that hadn't been there before burned into the surface, glowing with cruel clarity:
Thou who open the gate,
Shall be dragged to the shrine of depth.
Never again shall Jedi eyes see the light,
For the truth is not theirs to claim.
His stomach dropped. His voice turned into a roar.
"Qui-Gon! Obi-Wan! RUN!"
But it was too late.
The stone shuddered, the floor collapsing beneath them with a thunderous crack. An immense void yawned open—hundreds of meters deep. The three lost their footing and were swallowed into the dark.
The fall was blinding, air rushing past like a storm. At the last instant, Dooku's instincts flared. He thrust out his hand, catching hold of a jagged outcrop, halting his plunge. With a strained growl, he seized Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan telekinetically, lifting them before they smashed against the unseen depths.
The three dangled in the abyss, stone walls stretching endlessly down into shadow.
Dooku's breath was sharp, his eyes grim.
"Did Jin-Woo ever say anything about this?"
Obi-Wan shook his head, his voice taut.
"No. Not a word."
Qui-Gon, still catching his breath, frowned.
"He spoke in riddles,. But whether it connects here… I can't yet say. His truths rarely align with what we expect.."
The ward above sealed itself again, Three Jedi suspended in a pit no Jedi had set foot in for five thousand years.
Dooku thumbed his lightsaber to life, its blue glow flooding the shaft with pale light. With a steady gesture, he let it drift downward, the weapon sinking slowly into the abyss like a falling star. The blade's light gleamed off the rough stone walls until, at last, it flared against the ground far below.
Dooku narrowed his eyes, calculating.
"Three hundred meters… perhaps more."
He extended his hand again, using the Force to guide Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan against the nearest stone outcroppings. Their boots scraped onto something solid.
"I trust you both remember how to climb," Dooku said dryly. "It would be awkward for an old man to drag two Jedi around as if they were children."
Qui-Gon managed the faintest chuckle, though his grip tightened against the stone.
"You needn't worry, Master. My Ataru may be rusty, but climbing won't break my back yet."
Obi-Wan, already testing his footing, smirked.
"I'm still young. Still quick. I'll be fine."
Dooku gave a small nod of approval.
"Good. Then let us proceed."
Together, the three began their descent into the depths, their lights casting fractured shadows across walls that hadn't felt a living touch in ages. The descent ended at last. Their boots touched solid ground—stone untouched for millennia.
Obi-Wan was the first to step forward. The moment his foot hit the floor, a chill like liquid ice shot up his spine. His breath caught.
"Master…" His voice trembled. "Tell me I'm wrong. Please—tell me I'm wrong about what I feel right now."
Qui-Gon's face was pale, his hand brushing the air as though to test it. His words came heavy.
"Obi-Wan… I fear Jin-Woo was right. So right… that the Temple stands on something it should never have touched."
Dooku, ever the cynic, scowled as his own senses flared. He knelt, brushing his fingers against the stone. A grimace twisted across his face.
"I cannot see what lies beyond… but this ground reeks of corruption. The dark side has festered here for millennia, buried beneath our Order's feet. And all this time… the Jedi hid it."
He straightened, resolve burning sharp in his eyes.
"I must see what lies at the end of this place. Are you with me?"
Qui-Gon's expression softened, the old bond between master and apprentice reignited in the shadowed depths.
"I will follow you, Master. As I did when I was your apprentice."
Obi-Wan sighed, his voice dry with sarcasm, though his knuckles whitened on his saber hilt.
"Do I even have a choice? Since the moment I followed you both down here, I've been dragged into this madness."