The victory celebrations on Naboo still rang across the galaxy, a chorus of relief and triumph. The Trade Federation blockade had been broken, Queen Amidala had stood tall, and the Senate sang songs of unity. But in the shadows of Coruscant, victory had already been poisoned.
Senator Palpatine returned from Naboo a hero. His quiet handshakes and whispered words spread like wildfire among senators, lobbyists, and guild leaders. Where Chancellor Valorum faltered, Palpatine had moved decisively. His allies, cultivated over decades under the careful instruction of Darth Plagueis, now bowed to him. But Palpatine's ambitions were no longer restrained by tutelage.
In the upper spires of Coruscant, within a private chamber hidden from the eyes of the Republic, Darth Plagueis the Wise sat with his ever-present respirator mask hissing faintly. The Muun Sith Lord gazed at his apprentice with the faint glimmer of satisfaction.
"You have done well, Sidious. The boy Skywalker has been revealed, Naboo is secure under your guidance, and the Senate bends closer to your will. Our time approaches."
Palpatine bowed deeply, concealing the glint in his eye. "Yes, my master. All is proceeding as you foresaw."
He poured the goblets of rare Nabooan wine, its deep crimson liquid reflecting the room's dim lights. Plagueis took his cup without suspicion, focusing instead on the strategic discussion.
"We must bring Skywalker into our fold, in time. He is the key. His power will eclipse all others. Through him, the Rule of Two will become the Rule of One immortal."
Palpatine sipped slowly, while Plagueis drank deeply through the respirator-linked straw. A faint bitterness filled the Muun's throat, one he attributed at first to the wine itself. But then his breath caught, his chest tightened. The respirator hissed irregularly.
Palpatine set his cup down with deliberate calm. "You taught me that all beings are vulnerable, my master. Even those who believe themselves beyond reach."
Plagueis clawed at his mask, realization dawning. "You "
Blue lightning erupted from Palpatine's fingertips, searing through his master's frail body. The poison in the wine and respirator crippled him, but the lightning ended all resistance. His body convulsed, twisted, and fell silent, smoke curling from charred flesh.
Palpatine stood over him, voice cold and triumphant. "The Sith shall no longer serve the shadows of Muun. The galaxy belongs to me."
With one final surge of lightning, he reduced the evidence of foul play to little more than a tragic failure of technology. History would never know.
Meanwhile, in the depths of the galaxy, Darth Maul seethed. Naboo had been his proving ground his moment to crush the Jedi. Instead, Qui-Gon Jinn had bested him. Though not slain, Maul's escape had been humiliating. His master had sent him back to lick his wounds.
Now, kneeling before Palpatine in their darkened chamber, Maul trembled with restrained fury.
"You failed me," Palpatine hissed, his eyes burning like molten gold.
"I will not fail again," Maul growled, fists clenched, his tattoos seeming to writhe in the dim light.
Palpatine's hand rose, invisible chains of the Force wrapping around Maul's throat. The Zabrak warrior gasped as the air was squeezed from his lungs. His knees hit the floor with a thud.
"You already failed," Sidious said coldly. Sparks of Sith lightning danced from his fingers, crawling over Maul's flesh, searing into nerve and bone. Maul screamed but did not beg.
"You are strong, Maul. But strength without discipline is nothing. You are my blade, and I will decide how sharp you are allowed to be."
The lightning ceased. Maul collapsed, smoke rising from his scorched skin. Sidious's voice softened only slightly.
"Rise, my apprentice. Your pain will forge you stronger. Soon, the Jedi will bleed, and the galaxy will kneel."
Maul, trembling, forced himself up. His yellow eyes glowed brighter, hatred fueling his resolve.
Far above these shadows, another story unfolded within the Jedi Temple.
Anakin Skywalker stood among younglings for the first time, his eyes wide with wonder. The Temple's vaulted halls gleamed with light, filled with the hum of training sabers and the whisper of robes.
Obi-Wan Kenobi watched from a distance, uncertain. He had kept his promise to Qui-Gon, though doubts gnawed at him. The boy was powerful unquestionably so but also reckless, emotional, dangerous.
Master Yoda observed in silence as Anakin's hand closed around the hilt of a training saber. The boy ignited it with a snap-hiss, the blade humming alive. Other children hesitated, glancing at the newcomer, but Anakin's determination burned like a star.
He struck with natural precision, almost instinctive, the Force guiding his every move. Even the instructors whispered among themselves. Few younglings adapted so quickly.
Yet beneath his brilliance was impatience. When another student landed a strike against him, Anakin's frustration flared. His blows became harder, faster, more aggressive.
"Control, young Skywalker," Yoda murmured, stepping forward with his gimer stick tapping against the floor. "The Force flows, but it is not yours to command. Harmony, you must find. Patience, you must learn."
Anakin bit back his words, bowing stiffly. But inside, a storm brewed.
At night, when the Temple grew quiet, Anakin gazed out at the endless cityscape of Coruscant. Somewhere beyond the stars, his mother was alone on Tatooine. Somewhere deeper still, he felt a pull a whisper in the dark, calling him toward a destiny no Jedi teaching could extinguish.
The galaxy was celebrating peace. Yet in the shadows, two Sith plotted its downfall. And within the heart of a boy, the seeds of that future were already taking root.