A thick fog choked the entire plaza—dense, colorless, alive. It clung to stone and skin, muffling sound and swallowing light. The silhouettes of the outer courtyard, statues, and broken pillars blurred into one shifting haze.
Plo Koon paused, visor flickering. "This isn't smoke. It's… Force condensation."
Windu's hand tightened on his saber. "Something's masking itself in the field. A concealment shroud."
Yoda stepped forward, cane tapping once. He reached out—just enough to feel the edge of the veil.
The fog pulsed. Yoda's ears twitched. His voice was low, grave. "Real, the fog is. Living… perhaps. Hmmm."
Windu exhaled. "Master Yoda—can you disperse it with Qâsh'Tai?"
Silence. The kind that meant the answer mattered.
Yoda closed his eyes—not to gather power, but to listen. "…No."
He opened his eyes again. "Disperse it, I can. But if I do… revealed, something horrible will be."
The wind shifted. The fog rippled outward in a slow, spiraling breath—as if something inside it exhaled back.
Obi-Wan felt his ribs tighten. "So whatever is beneath that fog… is not meant to be seen."
Windu nodded once, no hesitation. "Understood. Then we adapt."
He lifted his saber, its violet blade crackling to life.
"Two-by-two teams. Stagger advance. Locate Dooku. Aid him. End the ancient Sith."
The Jedi Council straightened, sabers igniting across the courtyard—blue, green, yellow, violet—blades becoming stars in the crawling gray.
They answered as one: "Yes, Master of the Order."
Fog swallowed their voices. Sound dampened. The world thinned.
Yoda's cane tapped once against the stone. "Stay together. Trust the Force. And remember… Dooku's fate, the galaxy will follow."
Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon moved in the same formation, side by side, steps quiet across the stone.
Obi-Wan exhaled through his nose. "We should ask Jin-Woo next time. For him, this would be… very, very easy."
Qui-Gon's expression didn't change, but his tone carried wry agreement. "Yes. That would be an excellent idea. However… I do not believe Jin-Woo can be convinced to assist in something this trivial."
Not without a price. And the price is always more than we expect.
Before Obi-Wan could respond—
A roar cracked through the fog: "WE FOUND DOOKU! HE IS HERE!"
Master Tyvokka's voice. Loud. Urgent. And strained.
The fog did not scatter—it receded, as if uncoiling on command, peeling backward in long shivering ribbons of gray.
Qui-Gon's breath halted for a fraction. No. Fog like this should not simply vanish. Something is wrong. Something released it.
Shapes took form. Several Jedi had formed a perimeter—sabers leveled outward. Inside their circle—
Dooku stood. Or rather—what was left of him.
His face was pale. Drained. His left side was soaked dark where his arm should have been. Around his body, jagged slabs of stone curled like a half-shattered cocoon—ritual stone, runes fractured, slick with old blood.
He did not move. He did not speak. His posture was upright, but empty.
Plo Koon stepped forward, voice steady but faintly shaken. " Dooku… what happened here? Who struck you? What—"
He stopped. Because Dooku's eyes did not look at him.
They did not look anywhere.
Qui-Gon's voice came low, a thread pulled tight. "Master…?"
Obi-Wan watched the face—too still, too composed, too empty.
A muscle twitched under the skin near Dooku's jaw.
Obi-Wan's breath locked. That is not a living expression.
The change happened in less than a heartbeat.
Dooku's face tore—skin rippling like liquid stretched over something else.
The features twisted, jaw widening, cheekbones splitting—the shape unraveling into something wrong.
"BACK!" Obi-Wan shouted. "EVERYONE—LOOK OUT!"
The thing wearing Dooku's face raised its hand.
Lightning erupted. A scream of raw power tore through the courtyard as a bolt of Force lightning blasted outward—wide, wild, molten. Windu lunged in front of Tyvokka, saber angled, Vaapad's shunt absorbing the impact. Sparks and arcs exploded against his blade, scattering across the stone.
The fog blasted apart. The truth stood revealed.
Dooku's form was changing—flesh swallowing itself, bones reforming, muscle knitting into a new configuration. His skin darkened into a hardened shell. Plates formed along spine and shoulders. A long, sinuous tail coiled behind him. Only one horned protrusion jutted from his skull. His mouth split, revealing an inner jaw studded with teeth. Three sets of eyes blinked open—expressionless, cold.
The Jedi recoiled—half instinct, half terror.
Windu gritted his teeth as the lightning forced him back a step. "All Masters—REPORT! WHAT ARE WE SEEING?!"
Confusion rippled through the line—none of them had words.
Tyvokka braced his stance. "This is NOT Dooku. This is—"
"I don't see Dooku," Obi-Wan said sharply. "Not in his stance. his breath. Nor his force signature ."
Windu tried to steady the situation. His free hand went to his belt, pulling out a holocommunicator. He thumbed the activation.
"Dooku. Do you hear me? If you're in danger—speak. If you need aid—call. Come on, old friend. Where are you?"
For a brief moment… silence. Then—The creature turned its head.
Not in reaction.In acknowledgment.
It stepped forward, tail dragging in a slow scrape. Lightning flickered between its claws.
It spoke. But it did not speak in Dooku's voice. "Dooku…? Ah…"
The voice was layered—one tone on top of another—ancient, towering, hollow. "I killed his essence. And fused it with mine."
The Jedi froze.
The creature's jaw split further—inner teeth clicking into place. "I am Naga Sadow. The first sovereign of Coruscant. The throne beneath your Temple was mine. And now—so is he."
The creature threw the holocomm to the floor— and crushed it under one clawed heel.
Windu grit his teeth, the fury behind his eyes sharp and cold. "No one will believe—"
Qui-Gon was already moving. His saber ignited with a sharp hiss of green, his stance clean, centered. "You're lying, ancient Sith."
He cut across Sadow's torso in a clean Makashi line—perfect angle, perfect weight—and it did nothing. The blade passed as if through reinforced armor grown from hell itself.
sadow laughed, low and amused. "Ah. The apprentice. Dooku spoke of you… Maverick. Defiant. No talent worth shaping."
Lightning crackled along his claws—ready to fire—But a flash of green cut through the charge.
Yoda moved faster than the eye could track. His blade carved up Sadow's arm at the joint—severing it clean. The severed limb hit the stone and burned away into black mist.
Yoda landed before the creature, small silhouette lit in green fire. His voice carried the weight of centuries. "Dooku is my old apprentice. Returned to the depths, you will be—no matter the cost."
Sadow's remaining hand flexed, and his fanged grin widened. "Force Valor… It has been many, many years since I have seen one withstand my presence."
Windu stepped forward beside Yoda, violet blade humming low.
"That thing is not Dooku. Whatever Dooku was—whatever he chose—it's gone."
The creature tilted its head, almost thoughtful.
"A lie. A comfort for your hearts. He did not fight. He accepted. A man tired of indecision… grateful for someone else to choose for him."
Obi-Wan flinched, jaw tightening.
Qui-Gon's voice hit the air before Windu could answer. "Dooku never submitted to anything in his life."
Sadow's laughter rippled again—deep, amused, like stone cracking underwater.
"And yet he did. All men break, Jedi. It is merely a question of when and who watches."
His tail uncoiled behind him with a slow scrape across the stone.
Yoda did not raise his blade again. He simply spoke.
"Dooku's fate, I accept. But steal his will, you will not. Return him, or fall here. No other ending, there is."
Sadow's grin widened—something old and hungry behind it.
But Yoda's eyes did not leave him. Because the real movement was already in motion.
Windu had vanished from his previous position.
His breath slowed. His heartbeat evened. His steps became weightless.
Vaapad. Focused. Precise. Silent.
Flashback — a few seconds before.
In the fog, before the creature fully emerged:
Yoda had spoken, voice quiet enough only Windu heard.
"Mace Windu. My apprentice. The Force warns me… if Dooku cannot be saved, killed he must be."
Windu's breath caught. "Master… we kill our brother in arms?"
Yoda's ears lowered. The weight of centuries pressed into his tone.
"Something ancient inside him is awake. Strong enough to break worlds, it is. If freed, nothing will remain. Can you do it, Mace Windu? To protect the galaxy, necessary this is."
There was no hesitation. Only pain.
Windu nodded once. "I will do my best… Master Yoda."
Windu moved the moment Yoda spoke. Vaapad coiled through his muscles, not flaring, but compressed into pure precision. His senses narrowed, Shatterpoint guiding his vision. And there—it was. A small imperfection where Sadow's possession hadn't fully fused to the neck. A seam. A point of entry. A killspot.
Windu's saber angled smoothly as he Force-dashed forward, the courtyard blurring around him. He struck in a clean Makashi line aimed directly for the weak point.
Sadow moved at the same instant—anticipating—his left arm snapping up to intercept. The blade clashed against hardened black flesh, claws locking the plasma in place. The impact was heavy, sharp, final.
Windu shifted his stance, ready to strike again—but Sadow's free arm snapped forward, unleashing another surge of Force lightning. Windu caught it on his saber, Vaapad absorbing and redirecting the current, boots grinding against the stone as the courtyard lit white-blue.
Then something changed.
From Sadow's back, four jagged, membrane-like wing structures unfolded—half bone, half ritual-grown flesh. They twitched as though remembering how to move.
"Tch," Sadow clicked his tongue. "If this body were not still… stubborn to tame, I would have finished you already."
The wings flexed. The creature crouched—ready to launch into the sky.
But it never got the chance. A golden flash dropped from above.
Yoda descended in a spinning arc—Force Valor awakening every fiber of his form, Ataru flowing smooth and relentless. His small body blazed with resolved purpose. His blade cut downward, not for damage—for anchoring. [ Juyo-kai]
"You cannot leave," Yoda said, voice steady and absolute. "Return to the void where you belong."
Sadow blocked, tail whipping to counterweight, wings flaring to absorb the strike. His three sets of red eyes narrowed. A slow smile spread across the warped jaw.
"For a Grand Master," he said, voice low and resonant, "your attack is… rather weak."