The PL-90 luxury speeder glided through Coruscant's upper atmosphere with the kind of smooth, effortless grace that only came from expensive engineering and meticulous maintenance.
I sat in the spacious passenger compartment, watching the cityscape blur past the tinted windows. Towers of durasteel and transparisteel stretched toward the sky, their surfaces gleaming in the afternoon sun. Streams of traffic flowed between them like rivers of light—speeders, shuttles, and cargo haulers moving in carefully choreographed patterns that somehow never collided.
It was beautiful, in its way. A testament to what civilization could accomplish when it worked together.
And it's all going to burn, I thought grimly. Unless I can stop it.
Across from me, Chancellor Palpatine sat with his hands folded in his lap, his expression serene and contemplative. He'd invited me on what he called a "diplomatic errand"—something about picking up a gift for Anakin's upcoming birthday.
Master Plo had given me the choice: go with the Chancellor or stay at the Temple and continue my training.
"The decision is yours, Padawan," Plo had said, his voice carrying that distinctive resonance through his antiox mask. "But be careful. Chancellor Palpatine is a skilled politician, and politicians always have agendas."
I'd caught the warning in his tone. Plo was wary of Palpatine, not openly hostile, but cautious in a way that suggested his instincts were telling him something was off.
Good, I'd thought. I need someone besides me to have good instincts about this man.
So here I was, thousands of meters above Coruscant's surface, trapped in a flying luxury vehicle with one of the most dangerous beings in the galaxy.
No pressure.
The PL-90 was designed for comfort rather than speed. The interior was all polished wood paneling and soft leather seats, with a small bar built into one wall and a holoprojector for entertainment. The ride was so smooth that I could barely feel the motion—just a gentle swaying as we navigated the traffic lanes.
Space and comfort over speed, I thought, noting the metaphor. Just like Palpatine himself. He never rushes. He takes his time, moves deliberately, and always arrives exactly when he intends to.
For several minutes, neither of us spoke. The silence wasn't uncomfortable, Palpatine seemed content to let it stretch, to let me feel the weight of his presence without forcing conversation.
He's waiting, I realized. Letting me come to him. Making me feel like I'm the one initiating, when really, he's controlling the entire interaction.
Finally, he broke the silence.
"Sorry about the sudden change of scenery Padawan Cain. I remembered I needed to run a quick errand. But besides that you seem to have much on your mind, young one," Palpatine said, his voice warm and grandfatherly.
I glanced at him, keeping my expression neutral. "You could say that, Chancellor. I'm just trying to figure out quite a few things."
"Do tell, Padawan Cain." His smile widened slightly. "What does one so young and talented have to worry about besides training hard and becoming a Jedi Knight?"
Oh, I don't know. Maybe the fact that I'm sitting in a speeder with Darth Sidious, who's probably trying to figure out if I'm a threat or an opportunity. Maybe the fact that I know the Clone Wars are coming and I'm racing against time to prepare. Maybe the fact that I'm playing a game where one wrong move could get me and everyone I care about killed.
But I couldn't say any of that.
Instead, I reached up and touched the Krayt dragon pearl necklace hanging against my chest. The black gem felt warm beneath my fingers, its presence a constant reminder of mysteries I still didn't understand.
"Well, first I'm trying to figure out my family history," I said carefully. "But all I have to go off of is this necklace, a black Krayt dragon pearl, and what I found to be an ingot with faded inscriptions in Mando'a."
I paused, watching his reaction. Palpatine's expression shifted slightly, not much, just a subtle increase in interest, like a predator catching the scent of prey.
"But..." I continued, letting uncertainty creep into my voice.
"But what, Padawan?" Palpatine leaned forward slightly, his attention fully focused on me now.
Here we go. Truth mixed with calculated omission. Give him something real, but not everything.
"My Sephi and human lineage doesn't make me hopeful about what I might find on Mandalore," I said. "What if I'm some secret love child of a house on Mandalore? I could be part of a noble class, or I could be nobody. I was told I would be sent on a diplomatic mission there later on. If I go, I'd like my friends, Anakin and Seris, for support. And having Obi-Wan there would be a plus."
Palpatine nodded thoughtfully. "Yes, from what I remember, Duchess Satine does have a history with Knight Kenobi. I do believe this would be a good mission for you, and you might find something about your family history there."
He paused, his eyes studying the necklace with an intensity that made my skin crawl.
"Someone must have loved you considerably," he said softly, "if they left you such a gem. And if my intuition is correct, a pure beskar ingot as well."
Almost correct, I thought. But not quite.
"Actually, Chancellor," I said, "after I got the ingot, I had it analyzed. The report said it was Taung Iron, the most common and oldest beskar alloy. It's a versatile, all-purpose grade that serves as the base for many other varieties."
"Fascinating," Palpatine murmured. "Taung Iron. That's quite old, Cain. The Taung were the original Mandalorians, before the human clans took over. If someone left you Taung Iron, they were either very traditional or very wealthy. Possibly both."
Or they were someone who valued history and heritage, I thought. Someone who wanted me to know where I came from, even if they couldn't be there to tell me themselves.
The speeder banked slightly, adjusting course as we moved into a different traffic lane. Through the window, I could see the Senate Building in the distance, a massive mushroom-shaped structure that dominated the skyline.
The heart of the Republic. And the seat of its greatest enemy.
"You know, Cain," Palpatine said, settling back into his seat, "I've always found it curious how the Jedi approach questions of heritage and identity."
I looked at him, sensing the shift in conversation. "How do you mean, Chancellor?"
"They teach you to let go of the past, don't they? To release attachment to family, to lineage, to the very things that make you who you are." His voice was thoughtful, almost philosophical. "And yet, identity is fundamental to understanding oneself. How can you know where you're going if you don't know where you came from?"
Careful. He's probing deeper now.
"The Masters teach that attachment leads to fear," I said, reciting the doctrine I'd been taught. "Fear leads to anger, anger to hate, hate to suffering."
"Ah, yes. The famous chain of causation." Palpatine smiled, but there was something knowing in his expression. "But tell me, Cain, is it attachment itself that's dangerous, or is it the fear of loss? The desperate clinging to what we cannot control?"
I felt my pulse quicken. This was dangerous territory, but it was also exactly the kind of conversation I needed to have if I was going to understand how Sidious thought.
"I think," I said slowly, choosing my words carefully, "that the Jedi Code's prohibition on attachment is... incomplete. It's not attachment itself that's dangerous, it's how we respond to it. If we let fear of loss control us, if we become possessive and desperate, then yes, attachment becomes a chain. But if we love without possessing, if we care without clinging, then attachment can be a source of strength."
Palpatine's eyes gleamed with interest. "A nuanced perspective. Not one I would expect from a Jedi Padawan."
"I've had... unusual experiences," I said. "They've given me a different way of looking at things."
"Indeed." He was silent for a moment, studying me with those deceptively kind eyes. "You know, the ancient Jedi, before the modern Order codified their teachings, had a very different understanding of the Force. They saw it not as something to be controlled or suppressed, but as something to be experienced in its fullness. Light and dark, creation and destruction, passion and serenity—all of it part of a greater whole."
Here it comes. The philosophical seduction.
"The Masters teach that the dark side corrupts," I said. "That it leads to suffering and destruction."
"And yet," Palpatine said softly, "is destruction not also a natural part of existence? Stars are born in the violent collapse of nebulae. Planets form from the debris of cosmic collisions. Life itself requires the death and decay of what came before. The galaxy is built on cycles of creation and destruction, and to deny one is to deny the fundamental nature of reality."
I felt a chill run down my spine, not because his words were wrong, but because they were right. This was the truth I'd knew since before I'd arrived in this universe, the understanding that the Jedi's rigid adherence to the light was as unbalanced as the Sith's embrace of the dark.
"I've thought about that," I admitted. "About how destruction enables creation. How you can't build something new without first clearing away what was there before. Whether it's a building, a government, or even a person's understanding of themselves."
Palpatine leaned forward, his expression intent. "Go on."
"Nature doesn't care about our moral categories," I said, the words flowing more freely now. "A forest fire destroys, yes, but it also clears the way for new growth. A supernova obliterates a star, but it seeds the galaxy with the heavy elements necessary for life. Destruction and creation are two sides of the same coin. You can't have one without the other."
"Precisely," Palpatine said, and there was genuine approval in his voice. "And yet the Jedi teach you to fear the destructive aspect of the Force. To suppress it, to deny it, to pretend it doesn't exist. They cripple themselves by refusing to acknowledge half of what the Force truly is."
He's good, I thought. He's taking my genuine philosophical insights and twisting them, using them to validate his own worldview. Making me feel understood while simultaneously pulling me toward his perspective.
"But the Sith went too far in the other direction," I said, pushing back gently. "They embraced destruction so completely that they destroyed themselves. The Rule of Two exists because the Sith couldn't stop betraying and killing each other."
Palpatine smiled, and for just a moment, I saw something predatory flash behind his eyes. "True. The ancient Sith were consumed by their passions, unable to control the very power they sought to wield. But that was a failure of discipline, not philosophy. Imagine, Cain, imagine a Force-user who could embrace both light and dark, who could wield passion without being consumed by it, who could use destruction as a tool rather than an end in itself. What could such a being accomplish?"
He's describing himself. Or what he thinks he is.
"I don't know," I said honestly. "But I think it would require incredible discipline. Incredible control. The kind of mastery that takes a lifetime to develop."
"Or," Palpatine said softly, "the kind of understanding that comes from questioning what you've been taught. From looking beyond the narrow confines of Jedi dogma and seeking a deeper truth."
The speeder began to descend, moving toward one of the upper-level commercial districts. Through the window, I could see elegant shops and boutiques, their facades gleaming with expensive materials and tasteful lighting.
He's planting seeds, I realized. Not trying to convert me outright, but making me question. Making me doubt. Creating space for his influence to grow.
"Chancellor," I said, deciding to shift the conversation before he could dig any deeper, "may I ask you something?"
"Of course, Cain." His smile was warm, encouraging. "You need not ask so formally. What is it you would like to know?"
"I've been having dreams," I said slowly, as if choosing my words carefully. "Visions, maybe. Of people and places I don't recognize. Sometimes I see red-skinned beings with yellow eyes. Once, I saw someone ebony-skinned, ruling over the red-skinned ones. The word 'Sith'ari' was mentioned, but I couldn't find anything about it in the Jedi Archives."
The change was instantaneous and almost imperceptible. Palpatine's expression shifted—not dramatically, but enough that I could see the sudden spike of interest, the predatory focus that came with recognizing an opportunity.
Gotcha. He's hooked.
"That's because it's not a word, Cain," Palpatine said, and I could hear the shift in his tone—from politician to teacher. "It is a title. A prophecy, actually."
He settled back in his seat, his expression thoughtful. "The Sith'ari was a prophesied individual of tremendous power in Sith lore, believed to be one who would be conceived of the Force itself and lead the Sith to glory. Not just the Sith Order, but the Sith people, the red-skinned beings you saw in your visions. They were the original Sith, a species native to Korriban and Ziost, before the term came to refer to the dark side philosophy."
His eyes gleamed with genuine enthusiasm now. "You're seeing these visions is fascinating, Cain. The Sith species have been extinct for millennia. For you to be receiving impressions of them through the Force... it suggests a connection to something very old and very powerful."
Keep him talking. The more he reveals, the more I learn.
"There was more," I said, letting excitement creep into my voice. "I saw a throne, massive, ornate, built on a scale that seemed designed to dwarf anyone who approached it. And a world... Zakuul, I think it was called. There was a man sitting on the throne, wearing white armor with gold designs. It was like the Force itself bent around him."
Palpatine's smile grew wider, and for just a moment, I saw something almost like hunger in his expression.
"Zakuul," he murmured. "Now that is a name I haven't heard in quite some time. You're speaking of the Eternal Empire, Cain. One of the most powerful civilizations in galactic history, and one that has been lost to us for thousands of years."
He leaned forward, his voice taking on the quality of a teacher sharing forbidden knowledge with a promising student.
"The Eternal Empire existed in Wild Space, far beyond the borders of the Republic. It was founded by a being of immense power, Valkorion, the Immortal Emperor. He ruled for over a thousand years, wielding the Force in ways that made both Jedi and Sith look like children playing with toys. The white and gold armor you saw was the mark of his elite guard, the Knights of Zakuul."
"What happened to them?" I asked, genuinely curious despite myself.
"They vanished," Palpatine said. "Sometime after the collapse of the Old Republic, all contact with Zakuul ceased. Some believe they destroyed themselves in civil war. Others think they simply withdrew from galactic affairs, content to rule their own corner of space. But the truth is, no one knows. They became legend. Myth. A cautionary tale about the dangers of unchecked power."
He paused, studying me intently. "But for you to be seeing visions of them... that suggests the Force is trying to tell you something. To show you something important."
Now comes the offer. The bait.
"I wish I understood what it meant," I said, letting frustration show in my voice. "But the Jedi Archives don't have much information about the Sith or the Eternal Empire. The Masters say it's because that knowledge is dangerous, that studying the dark side leads to corruption."
"And what do you think?" Palpatine asked softly.
I met his gaze, letting him see the conflict in my eyes. "I think knowledge is just knowledge. It's what you do with it that matters. And I think refusing to study something because you're afraid of it is... limiting. How can you defend against an enemy you don't understand?"
"Wise words," Palpatine murmured. "Very wise indeed."
The speeder touched down on a landing platform outside an elegant shopping district. The doors hissed open, but neither of us moved immediately.
"Cain," Palpatine said, his voice taking on a note of careful consideration, "I may be able to help you with your questions. I have access to certain... historical texts that the Jedi would consider inappropriate for a Padawan. Documents from the Old Republic era, philosophical treatises on the nature of the Force, even some artifacts from ancient civilizations."
He held up a hand before I could respond. "Nothing dangerous, I assure you. No Sith Holocrons or corrupted relics. Simply academic materials—the kind of historical records that any serious scholar should have access to. But the Jedi Council, in their wisdom, has decided that such knowledge should be restricted."
Here it is. The offer. The trap.
"You would let me study them?" I asked, letting hope and uncertainty war in my expression.
"I would," Palpatine said. "But it would need to be our secret. The Council wouldn't understand. They would see it as a violation of their principles, even though we both know it's simply the pursuit of knowledge. If you're interested, you could visit my office from time to time. We could discuss philosophy, history, the nature of the Force. I could share some of these texts with you, and you could pursue your own understanding."
He smiled, warm and grandfatherly. "Think of it as a mentorship, if you will. A chance to explore questions that the Jedi are too afraid to ask."
I let the silence stretch for a moment, as if I was genuinely considering the offer. In reality, I'd been planning for this exact scenario since the moment he'd requested our first meeting.
Knowledge is power. And I need to understand Sith philosophy if I'm going to defeat Sidious. I need to know how he thinks, how he operates, what weaknesses I can exploit. There are parts of him the books, shows, and movies didn't show. And I be a fool to think so.
But I also need to be careful. This is a trap, even if it's also an opportunity. He's offering me forbidden knowledge, creating a secret between us, making me complicit in something the Council would disapprove of. It's classic manipulation, building intimacy through shared secrets, making me feel special and understood.
But I can use this. I can learn from him without being corrupted by him. I just have to stay aware, stay grounded, remember who I am and what I'm fighting for.
"I would like that, Chancellor," I said finally, bowing my head respectfully. "Thank you. I promise I'll approach these texts with the proper respect and caution."
"I know you will, Cain," Palpatine said, his smile widening. "You're a thoughtful young man. Intelligent. Questioning. You remind me of myself at your age, actually. Always seeking to understand, never satisfied with simple answers."
There it is. The comparison. Making me feel special, unique, worthy of his attention.
"I'm honored by the comparison, Chancellor," I said, keeping my voice humble.
"Come," Palpatine said, standing and gesturing toward the platform exit. "Let's find something special for young Skywalker. And perhaps you'll find something for your other friends as well."
The shopping district was everything I'd expected from Coruscant's upper levels, elegant, expensive, and utterly disconnected from the reality of life in the lower city.
Shops lined the wide pedestrian walkways, their windows displaying everything from custom-tailored robes to exotic artifacts from across the galaxy. Holographic advertisements floated in the air, showcasing the latest fashions and technologies. Well-dressed beings of a dozen species strolled past, their conversations a low murmur of cultured voices and polite laughter.
This is what the Republic looks like to the wealthy, I thought it was clean, safe and prosperous. No wonder they don't see the rot underneath. Or they choose to ignore it.
Palpatine moved through the crowd with practiced ease, nodding politely to those who recognized him, deflecting attempts at conversation with smooth excuses about being on a tight schedule.
"Anakin's birthday is in a few weeks," he explained as we walked. "I like to give him something meaningful, something that shows I've been paying attention to his interests."
Of course you do, I thought. Every gift is an investment. Every gesture is calculated to build loyalty and dependence.
We stopped at a shop specializing in mechanical components and engineering tools. The proprietor, a Duros with intelligent eyes and quick hands—greeted Palpatine with obvious respect.
"Chancellor! An honor, as always. What can I help you find today?"
"I'm looking for something special," Palpatine said. "A gift for a young man with exceptional talent in mechanics and engineering. Something that would challenge him, but not frustrate him."
The Duros's eyes lit up. "Ah! I have just the thing."
He disappeared into the back of the shop and returned moments later carrying a sleek case. Inside, nestled in custom foam, was a set of precision tools unlike anything I'd seen before.
"Mandalorian micro-tools," the Duros explained. "Designed for working on the most delicate systems, starfighter components, droid neural networks, that sort of thing. Each tool is made from beskar alloy, so they'll never wear out or break. And see these markings? Those are calibration indicators. They adjust automatically based on what you're working on."
Palpatine examined the tools with apparent interest, though I suspected he already knew exactly what they were and what they cost.
"Perfect," he said. "I'll take them."
As the Duros wrapped the purchase, I found myself studying Palpatine's expression. There was genuine satisfaction there, not just at finding an appropriate gift, but at the knowledge of how Anakin would react.
He knows Anakin so well, I realized. He's been studying him for years, learning his likes and dislikes, his hopes and fears. Every interaction is data. Every conversation is reconnaissance. It was chilling, in its way. The sheer calculated nature of it.
And he's doing the same thing to me, I thought. Every word I say, every reaction I show, he's cataloging it all, building a profile, looking for weaknesses to exploit.
We left the shop and continued down the walkway. Palpatine seemed content to browse, occasionally stopping to examine something in a window or exchange pleasantries with a passing dignitary.
He's giving me time, I realized. Letting me relax, lowering my guard. Making this feel like a casual outing instead of the strategic operation it actually is.
Well, two could play that game.
"Chancellor," I said, "if you don't mind, I'd like to find some gifts for my friends as well. It's been a while since I've had the chance to shop, and I want to get them something meaningful."
"Of course, Cain," Palpatine said warmly. "Take your time. I'm in no rush."
I moved through the district with purpose, scanning the shops for something that would work. It needed to be symbolic, something that represented our bond without being too obvious about it.
A reminder that we're connected, no matter where we are or what happens.
I found it in a small jewelry shop tucked between two larger establishments. The proprietor was an elderly Twi'lek woman with kind eyes and skilled hands, and her display cases were filled with elegant pieces that managed to be beautiful without being ostentatious.
"Can I help you, young one?" she asked.
"I'm looking for something for a group of friends," I said. "Five of us, total. Something that would connect us, but that each person could carry separately."
Her eyes lit up with understanding. "Ah! I have just the thing."
She reached into one of the cases and pulled out a small velvet box. Inside, nestled on a bed of soft fabric, was a star-shaped pendant made of silver metal.
"This is a friendship star," she explained. "It's designed to break into five pieces—see these seams? Each piece is a point of the star, and each person carries one. When you hold them together, they form a complete whole."
She demonstrated, gently pulling the star apart. Each piece was elegantly shaped, with a small loop for a chain or cord. The craftsmanship was exquisite, the seams were nearly invisible when the star was assembled, and each piece had a subtle engraving on the back.
"The engravings are in Old Corellian," the Twi'lek said. "They say: 'Together in spirit, apart in distance, united always.'"
This was perfect.
"I'll take it," I said.
As she wrapped the purchase, I felt a warmth in my chest that had nothing to do with the Force. This was real. This was something that mattered, separate from all the political maneuvering and strategic games.
These are my reason, I thought. Seris, Anakin, Derren, Barriss. They're what I'm fighting for. They're what makes all of this worth it.
Palpatine was waiting outside the shop when I emerged, his expression curious.
"Find what you were looking for?" he asked.
"Yes, Chancellor," I said. "Thank you for giving me the time."
"Think nothing of it." He glanced at the small package in my hands. "Your friends are fortunate to have someone who thinks of them so carefully."
And you're fortunate I'm not ready to move against you yet, I thought. But that day is coming, Sidious. Sooner than you think.
We returned to the speeder and began the journey back to the Jedi Temple. The afternoon sun was lower now, casting long shadows across the cityscape. Traffic had increased as the workday ended, and the speeder moved more slowly through the congested lanes.
Palpatine was quiet for most of the return trip, seemingly lost in thought. I used the time to center myself, to process everything that had happened.
I played the game today, I thought. I gave him what he wanted—a glimpse of a potential student, someone who questions Jedi dogma and might be open to alternative philosophies. But I didn't give him everything. I kept my real plans hidden, my true knowledge concealed.
The question is: did he buy it?
I studied his reflection in the window, trying to read his expression. But Palpatine's face was as serene and unreadable as ever.
He's a master at this, I reminded myself. He's been playing these games for decades. I can't afford to underestimate him.
The Temple came into view, its spires rising above the surrounding buildings like ancient sentinels. The speeder began its final approach, descending toward the landing platforms.
"Thank you for accompanying me today, Cain," Palpatine said as we prepared to disembark. "I found our conversation most enlightening."
"The honor was mine, Chancellor," I replied, bowing respectfully.
"Remember," he said, his voice dropping slightly, "my offer stands. Come by my office whenever you wish to discuss philosophy or examine those texts we spoke of. I think you'll find them... illuminating."
"I will, Chancellor. Thank you."
The speeder touched down, and I stepped out onto the Temple platform. Palpatine remained in the vehicle, watching me with those calculating eyes.
"May the Force be with you, Padawan Cain," he said.
"And with you, Chancellor," I replied, though the words felt like ash in my mouth.
The speeder lifted off, disappearing into the traffic streams. I stood there for a moment, watching it go, feeling the weight of what I'd just done settle over me like a heavy cloak.
I made a deal with the devil today, I thought. I took his bait, knowing it was a trap, because I need what he can offer.
I just hope I'm strong enough to survive it.
I found them in one of the smaller training rooms, Seris, Anakin, Derren, and Barriss, all gathered together after their respective training sessions.
Seris was meditating in the corner, her silver hair catching the light like moonlight on water. Anakin and Derren were engaged in a friendly debate about starfighter tactics, their voices animated and enthusiastic. Barriss sat nearby, reading from a datapad, occasionally interjecting with comments that made the boys laugh.
My friends, I thought, feeling that warmth in my chest again. My reason for why I do all this.
The moment I stepped through the door, the conversation stopped. Four pairs of eyes turned toward me, and I felt the weight of their concern through our bond.
"Cain!" Anakin spotted me first, his face breaking into a grin that didn't quite hide the worry in his eyes. "Where have you been? Master Plo said you went somewhere with the Chancellor."
"I did," I said, moving to join them. "He was picking up a birthday present for you, actually."
Anakin's eyes widened. "Really? What is it?"
"I'm not telling," I said, smirking. "You'll have to wait for your birthday like everyone else."
"Aw, come on!"
Seris opened her eyes and smiled at me, but I could see the question in her gaze. Are you okay?
I gave her a small nod. I'm fine. We'll talk later.
"You seem... lighter," Barriss observed, her dark blue eyes studying me with that characteristic intensity. "Did something good happen?"
Perceptive as always.
"Actually, yes," I said, pulling out the small package from the jewelry shop. "I got something for all of us."
That got everyone's attention. Barriss set down her datapad. Derren stopped mid-sentence. Even Anakin forgot about his birthday present.
I opened the package and carefully removed the friendship star, holding it up so they could all see.
"This is a friendship star," I explained. "It breaks into five pieces, one for each of us. When we hold them together, they form a complete whole. But even when we're apart, each piece reminds us that we're connected."
I gently pulled the star apart, separating it into its five points. Then I handed one to each of them.
"This will keep us connected," I said softly, "no matter where in the galaxy we are."
For a moment, no one spoke. They just stared at the silver pieces in their hands, their expressions a mixture of surprise and emotion.
Then Seris stood and crossed the room to me. Without a word, she wrapped her arms around me in a tight hug.
"Thank you," she whispered against my shoulder. "This is perfect."
Barriss was next, her dark blue eyes shining with unshed tears. "Cain, this is... I don't know what to say."
"You don't have to say anything," I told her. "Just keep it with you. Remember that you're not alone."
Derren examined his piece with quiet intensity, his fingers tracing the engraving on the back. "Together in spirit, apart in distance, united ialways," he read aloud. "That's beautiful, Cain."
Anakin was the last to react. He stared at his piece for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then he looked up at me, and I saw something in his eyes that made my chest tighten.
"I won't lose this," he said quietly. "Ever."
"I know you won't," I said.
We stood there together, the five of us, each holding our piece of the star. In the Force, I could feel our bond, that connection that had been forged through months of training and friendship, strengthened by shared trials and mutual trust.
This is real, I thought. This is what matters. Not the games with Palpatine, not the political maneuvering, not the strategic planning. This. These people and these connections. They're what I'm fighting for. They're what makes all the darkness worth enduring.
Seris pulled back from the hug but kept one hand on my arm. "We should make a promise," she said. "All of us, together."
"What kind of promise?" Barriss asked.
"That no matter what happens," Seris said, her gray eyes serious, "no matter where we go or what we face, we'll always come back to each other. We'll always be there when it matters."
"I like that," Derren said.
"Me too," Anakin agreed.
"Then let's do it," I said.
We formed a circle, each of us holding our piece of the star. In the center, where our hands met, the five pieces came together, forming the complete whole.
"Together in spirit," Seris said.
"Apart in distance," Barriss continued.
"United," Derren added.
"No matter what," Anakin said.
"Always," I finished.
The Force hummed around us with a quiet certainty that felt even more profound. This is a promise, I thought. A vow. And I will keep it, no matter what it costs me.
We separated, each of us carefully tucking our piece of the star away. Seris attached hers to a delicate chain around her neck. Anakin slipped his into a pocket close to his heart. Barriss threaded hers onto her Padawan braid. Derren attached his to his belt, where it hung next to his lightsaber.
I put mine on a cord and wore it beneath my robes, where it rested against my chest next to the Krayt dragon pearl.
Two mysteries, I thought. Two connections to things I don't fully understand. But both of them matter. Both of them are part of who I am.
"So," Anakin said, breaking the emotional moment with his characteristic enthusiasm, "who wants to spar? I've been working on a new technique, and I want to try it out."
"You just want to show off," Derren said, but he was smiling.
"Maybe a little," Anakin admitted.
We spent the rest of the evening together, training and talking and simply enjoying each other's company. For a few hours, I let myself forget about Palpatine and the Sith and the coming wars.
For a few hours, I was just Cain, a thirteen-year-old Padawan with friends who cared about him and a future that felt, if not certain, at least hopeful.
But as the evening wore on and we finally parted ways to return to our quarters, I felt the weight of reality settling back over me. I lay in my bed that night, staring at the ceiling of my quarters, unable to sleep.
The conversation with Palpatine played through my mind on an endless loop, each word and gesture analyzed and re-analyzed. I kept coming back to the same questions.
Did I give too much away? Did I seem too eager? Too resistant? Did he see through my act?
Or worse—did I see through his?
I touched the friendship star beneath my robes, feeling its cool metal against my skin. Then I touched the Krayt dragon pearl, feeling its warmth.
The philosophical discussion with Palpatine had been... unsettling. Not because he was wrong, but because he was right. His understanding of the Force, his critique of Jedi dogma, his recognition that destruction and creation were two sides of the same coin, all of it resonated with my own beliefs.
That's what makes him so dangerous, I realized. He doesn't just lie. He tells the truth, or at least, a version of it. He takes genuine insights and twists them, uses them to justify his own agenda. He makes you feel understood, validated, special. And by the time you realize what he's done, you're already in his web.
I thought about Anakin, about how Palpatine had groomed him over years of careful manipulation. How he'd positioned himself as the understanding mentor, the one person who truly saw Anakin's potential. How he'd exploited Anakin's fears and insecurities, his attachment to Padmé, his frustration with the Council.
And now he's trying to do the same thing to me.
The difference was, I knew what he was. I knew his endgame. I knew that every word, every gesture, every offer of friendship was calculated to serve his ultimate goal.
But knowing doesn't make me immune, I thought. That's the terrifying part. Even knowing what he is, even understanding his tactics, I can still feel the pull of his words. The temptation to believe that he's right, that the Jedi are wrong, that there's a better way.
Because part of me does believe it. Part of me does think the Jedi are too rigid, too afraid, too limited in their understanding. Part of me does want to explore the full spectrum of the Force, to understand both light and dark.
The question is: can I do that without becoming what he wants me to be?
I closed my eyes, reaching out through the Force to feel the presence of my friends. Seris, meditating in her quarters. Anakin, tinkering with some mechanical project. Derren, practicing his forms in the training room. Barriss, reading in the Temple library.
They're my answer, I realized. They're what keeps me grounded. As long as I have them, as long as I remember what I'm fighting for, I can walk this tightrope. I can learn from Sidious without becoming like him.
I hope.