At last, Qui-Gon spoke, his tone calm, tempered with loyalty. "Then you will not face it alone, my Master. We will accompany you—for now, and to the end of this path. Whatever lies within, we face it together."
The three Jedi stepped into the shrine, their boots echoing against ancient stone that hadn't known light in thousands of years. Shadows writhed along the walls, cast by the torches that burned with an unnatural red glow. But the silence was shattered by guttural snarls.
From the edges of the chamber, the Sith spawn emerged—mutated guardians of the shrine, their bodies a blend of flesh and shadow, armored in jagged bone. But their eyes… their eyes weren't fixed on the Jedi. They were burning with fury at something else, something already stolen from them.
Dooku's gaze sharpened as he scanned their hostile posture. He let out a short, humorless laugh.
"This place… it has already been visited. Plundered."
Obi-Wan's brow furrowed, his saber held tighter.
"You mean… by a Sith?"
Dooku shook his head slowly, his tone cutting with certainty.
"I doubt it. No Sith could wander through the Temple's foundations unseen, much less carve a path here without detection. This reeks of someone else."
The three exchanged glances, their thoughts aligning, unspoken but clear. Jin-Woo.
It was Qui-Gon who muttered aloud, his voice low, frustration breaking through his composure.
"Jin-Woo… why is it you always make things harder for everyone?"
Before Dooku could reply, the air thickened. A surge of crushing darkness slammed into them—an invisible wave of the Force. Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon froze mid-step, bodies rigid, eyes wide.
"Master Dooku!" Obi-Wan gasped, his voice strangled before the paralysis took hold completely.
Dooku flared his aura, wrapping the Force around himself like armor, barely holding back the pressure. His saber ignited in a burst of blue. "Qui-Gon! Obi-Wan!"
Then movement—statues at the shrine's edge shifted. Hooded figures carved in stone, their massive axes raised high, their bodies cracking as if waking from millennia of sleep. The weapons descended, stopping only a hair's breadth—ten centimeters—from the throats of his companions.
Dooku's mind raced. I'm in very big trouble.
And then, from the air itself, glowing runes appeared—Sith script swirling crimson before his eyes. The message formed, pulsing faintly.
"Your companions will not be harmed. Continue forward. You are expected. Fewer than I wished, but close enough."
The words hung in the air before fading like dying embers.
Dooku's jaw tightened. He exhaled slowly, lowering his saber but never his guard. Then, with a silent nod, he stepped deeper into the shrine—ready to face whatever waited for him beyond.
Dooku's boots echoed softly against the stone as he advanced through the narrow hall. The deeper he went, the clearer it became—this shrine had existed long before the Jedi Temple was ever built above it. Faded murals stretched across the walls, depicting beings cloaked in shadow, wielding crimson light long before recorded history. The air was cold, metallic, humming faintly with a pulse of ancient power.
His gaze fixed on a faint red glow ahead. A crystal—large, jagged, suspended in air—hung like a heart beating in the dark. It pulsed once, and a voice emerged from within, smooth yet resonant.
"Dooku of Serenno. Noble of that world. Friend of Sifo-Dyas. The one who spoke of the coming darkness, and left the Order seeking truth."
Dooku straightened, his expression calm but wary. "My reputation precedes me, I see."
The crystal brightened, and the energy around it began to shape—first a shadow, then a silhouette, forming into a humanoid figure clad in Sith regalia. The being's features resolved into a face—proud, sharp, with ancient cruelty etched deep in its form.
It was Naga Sadow. His voice rumbled like the echo of forgotten wars.
"I know what plagues your mind, Jedi. You wonder—why a Sith shrine rests here, buried beneath the heart of your sacred Temple. In the very cradle of what you call justice."
Sadow's smile widened, cruel and knowing.
"The answer is simple. We were here first. Long before your kind claimed Coruscant. Long before the word Jedi carried any weight. This planet's core once belonged to the Sith Empire. And your Order—" he gestured faintly, "—merely built its faith upon our ashes."
Dooku's eyes narrowed, his lightsaber humming low at his side. The shadows around him twisted in rhythm with the red crystal's pulse.
"Spare me your speeches, ghost of the old Sith. Even now, your spirit is a fragment—flickering, decaying. Destroy the crystal, and your influence ends with it." His tone hardened. "You hold my companions hostage. Tell me what you want, and I will grant it—if only to walk out of here with them alive."
The red light deepened to a blood hue. Sadow's form solidified, the silhouette taking clearer shape. His smirk cut through the darkness like a blade.
"There is much talk, oh Dooku of Serenno." His words slithered with amusement. "So proud, defiant… But your eyes betray it. You crave understanding—power—to rise above a Council that chains thought and punishes vision."
Dooku's silence was his only answer, but the tension in his stance spoke volumes.
Sadow's laughter rippled through the hall, deep and echoing. "You need not fear me, Jedi. I do not wish your destruction. I offer revelation. You walk the same path I once did—seeing corruption, craving balance through control. Taste the power of the dark side, and together…"
Naga Sadow's molten hand hung midair, its light flickering like a dying star.
"…We will become something greater than history itself."
A sharp pffftt sound broke the silence—then laughter.
Dooku threw his head back, a rich, amused laugh echoing across the shrine. "Ahahahahahaha…"
The ancient Sith's expression twisted in disbelief. He had seen Jedi beg, tremble, defy—but never laugh. Veins of red light flared across his spectral form, pulsing with fury.
"Is something funny, Jedi?" Sadow's tone darkened, like stone cracking under heat.
Dooku straightened, eyes glinting with restrained mockery. "No, no… it's just—'become something greater,' you say. You sound like an echo of every senator I've ever met."
He paced forward, hand clasped behind his back, utterly unfazed by the ancient presence before him.
"You see, I fought someone ten years ago. I killed his apprentice, and he didn't even flinch. Do you understand? He's not mortal—he's Darkness incarnate. And yet, he even speaks with reason."
Sadow's glow dimmed slightly, the air humming tighter.
Dooku's smile sharpened. "Surely you've heard the rumors, haven't you? Of a being—neither Sith nor Jedi—who walked the Senate Rotunda itself? They say a Divine darkness stood among the Republic, and all the galaxy knelt beneath his shadow."
The Sith spirit's eyes flared crimson, his voice trembling with rage and something else—curiosity.
"Impossible. None of the living could rival me —"
"Rival you?" Dooku interrupted, cold and amused. "I think not. That man could erase you. "
The shrine trembled as Naga Sadow's composure shattered. Cracks spider-webbed across the walls; dust rained from the vaulted ceiling.
A storm of dark energy burst from his form—raw, ancient, hateful.
Dooku stood his ground. His saber hand didn't flinch; his free hand rose, wrapping himself in a barrier of pure will. The darkside slammed into him like the weight of a asteroid . From the outside he seemed untouched, calm as stone—yet inside every muscle screamed.
Hold, Dooku… hold. This pressure—like standing beneath a meteor. My old Padawan would be crushed by it. But I can't yield. If I do, this ghost will never stop.
The surge subsided. The air stilled, heavy with smoke and scorched dust.
Sadow's outline flickered, his tone grudgingly impressed.
"Not bad… for a Jedi of this era. Even the old Masters of Ossus would have fallen before me—had I not been caught off guard in my time."
Dooku exhaled through clenched teeth, straightening. "Then you should have stayed dead," he said coldly. "And left the living to their own age."
Naga Sadow's aura pulsed, and with a flick of his spectral hand, Dooku's saber tore from his grasp and slammed into the wall—hilt-first, pinned by invisible pressure. Sparks hissed across the stone.
Dooku froze, his hand half-raised, suddenly bare of his weapon.
Sadow's smirk returned, lazy and venomous.
"Have you calmed down yet? Good. We have much to discuss. Typical Jedi—without your little blade, you're nothing but a philosopher with delusions of valor."
Dooku said nothing. He stood tall, eyes locked on the ancient ghost, jaw tense but unwavering.
Sadow's molten features bent into something almost nostalgic.
"Then listen well. Millennia ago, this world—Coruscant—belonged to the Sith. And I was its ruler. Your Temple, your proud symbol of light, is built atop my throne."
Dooku's glare deepened, the realization cold and sharp.
Sadow chuckled darkly. "Ah… judging by that face, it seems even you weren't told the full story. Not even your vaunted archives carry this truth."
Dooku's voice cut back, low and deliberate. "Let me save us the theatrics. The Jedi—blind as ever—built their Temple upon the ruins of a Sith shrine. Their foundation of 'light' laid over the grave of darkness."
The ghost laughed, the sound echoing through the cavern like broken glass.
"Bravo, Dooku of Serenno. You've just condensed a thousand-year tale into a single breath. You truly are sharper than most of your Order… clever enough to make me almost enjoy this conversation."
The ghost's laughter faded into a low hum that rippled through the chamber's air.
Dooku tilted his head slightly, voice laced with cold amusement. "If you mean to take my body—then stop talking and do it. But I assure you, spirit, that will be the last moment you ever exist."
Sadow's molten form pulsed once, then steadied. "I told you already, Dooku of Serenno. I have no interest in possessing you. That would be… impractical. You're too old, too weathered for my essence to adapt. And frankly, it's easier for me to tether myself to inanimate objects. They complain less."
Dooku's tone turned dry. "Then if not my life—what do you want?"
Sadow's spectral eyes narrowed, their glow dimming to a colder hue. "A task. You could say we both have one—granted to us by the Force itself."
Dooku arched a brow, voice dipped in sarcasm. "By the Force, or by another ghost who refuses to rest?"
Sadow chuckled again, the sound like magma cracking through stone. "By the Force . Whatever remains of it that still has reason. The currents shift, the balance bends, and something vast moves beneath us all. For now…"
He extended his hand,. "…it is time we set aside our differences—and unite against one common enemy."
Dooku barked a harsh laugh. "You expect oil and water to mix? Are you an idiot? Our factions—Jedi and Sith—have always been at each other's throats."
Naga Sadow's spectral gaze did not waver. "Believe me, dooku of Serenno, I would revel in reclaiming my glory and in using you as a tool . I have no love for your Order. But the currents have shifted. The Force itself furious has set us a task. Tython must be freed from a hand that grips it now. That world holds the bulk of one being's power, and as long as he anchors himself there, he will persist in this galaxy."
Dooku's eyes narrowed. "Tython—the home of the Jedaai, their progenitor world. You expect me to swallow that like a convenient lie?"
"I am not lying," Sadow replied, voice slow and layered with ember-deep certainty. "This is no ploy. Both the dark currents and whatever remains of the Force's balance have spoken. They task me—of all things—to convince you to cast aside one man. He is the fulcrum; remove him and the lock on Tython weakens."
Dooku's jaw tightened. He considered the ruined shrines, the whispering wards, the living echoes of terrible histories all around them. For a long moment he said nothing, watching the ghostly Sith's molten eyes as if searching for the trick.
"If you ask me to trust a Sith spirit," Dooku finally said, voice flat, "you have mistaken my patience for gullibility. But tell me plainly—who is this 'one man' you speak of, and why should I be the instrument of his fall?"
Sadow's form rippled with faint red light, his molten eyes narrowing.
"I do not know his name," he said, each word like the hiss of burning metal. "Even within this crystal, severed from the galaxy—cannot see beyond the walls of your Temple. But the dark side whispers to me still. It commands: Reclaim your fragments first, on Korriban… then cast aside the man who rules the pitch-black abyss, who commands an army of immortals. Do this, and you shall have your body restored."
Dooku's gaze hardened. "It's called Moraband now, not Korriban. And I sense your real motive—you wish to cast down this man before reclaiming your fragments. Why the rush, spirit?"
Sadow's grin returned, sharp and cruel.
"Because when I stand whole again, I intend to wage war on you Jedi once more. I will not feign friendship beyond what necessity demands. This alliance—" he gestured faintly, his outline flickering "—is temporary. But I will keep my promise. Help me destroy him, and I shall see you rise greater than you have ever been. After that… we go our separate ways. And I return to my dominion."
Sadow's burning gaze fixed on Dooku, his grin turning razor-thin.
"It seems you already know the name, don't you? Tell me—this man you mentioned before, the one who shook your Senate—is he the same? The one whose strength you boasted of?"
Dooku's eyes narrowed. Jin-Woo… of course it's him.
He chose his next words with care.
"Yes. That's the man. But perhaps you've listened to the wrong whispers. He is… immeasurably powerful, . Yet he brought a degree of peace and order to the Republic—by methods that are questionable, but effective nonetheless."
Sadow's expression darkened, the air vibrating with quiet malice.
"You call this… peace?" He stepped closer, his molten form flickering with fury. "Let me tell you the truth you refuse to see. You Jedi still feel the Force—but haven't you realized? It's. Weakening. You channel less than you did some time ago. And you wonder why? Because that man drains it. Slowly . He is the maw that devours balance itself."
Dooku said nothing. His expression remained composed, but inside, a storm turned. Jin-Woo… He had never truly understood the man. A being who wielded a darkness older than the dark side itself, who commanded an immortal army, who seemed beyond death. If Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan's accounts were true, Jin-Woo wasn't merely powerful—he was an impossibility.
Sadow's tone sharpened, cutting through Dooku's thoughts.
"But we have talked long enough. My patience runs thin." He extended his hand, the air vibrating with dark intent. "Dooku of Serenno—will you accept my friendship? Stand with me, and you will achieve a feat beyond anything the Jedi ever dreamed. Refuse… and I will take matters into my own hands."