Deep within a droid factory on Geonosis, Anakin and Padme had traversed the winding maze of droid conveyor belts and giant assembly lines.
Now the duo stood surrounded by hundreds of droids.
The stun-bolts hit like hammers.
Anakin felt them before he heard them—bright flashes of blue-white energy that crackled against his armor and bled through the Force like static. His muscles locked, breath punched from his lungs as he and Padmé were driven to their knees.
Droids surrounded them in a tightening ring, blasters leveled.
And through the mechanical wall of metal stepped a figure Anakin knew too well.
Jango Fett.
Helmeted. Blaster raised. Silent.
Anakin's eyes narrowed behind his own mask.
"So it is you," he said coldly.
Padme was already knocked out at his side, and Anakin barely held on to consciousness with pure anger.
Jango's voice filtered through his helmet, controlled and unreadable.
"Get up."
Anakin surged with anger, the Force rising instinctively—but Jango was faster. A precise kick disarmed him before he could draw, and Jango's gauntleted hand swept in to confiscate both of Anakin's lightsabers.
He weighed them briefly.
"Two, huh?" Jango muttered.
Fury crackled around Anakin as he kneeled before Jango.
"If you've truly sided with them," he said, voice low and dangerous, "then you chose poorly."
Jango's visor tilted slightly, unreadable.
"Move."
The droids grabbed Padme and pushed Anakin forward.
Unseen by Anakin, unseen by Padmé, Jango's tone had been slightly too sharp. Slightly too careful.
The ruse held.
///
They had been marched through stone corridors carved deep into Geonosis' red crust, then shoved into an open-topped chariot platform. Shackles locked into place around their wrists and ankles.
Padme had finally come to when they shackled her next to Anakin.
Minutes later, the Chariot began to move.
The tunnel ahead widened.
Light bled in.
Padmé turned toward Anakin.
The air was thick with dust and anticipation.
"Annie," she said softly.
He looked at her.
"I love you."
The words were steady. No hesitation. No politics. No fear.
"I will follow you," she continued, "wherever you walk. Jedi… Sith… I don't care."
Anakin's breath hitched beneath the mask.
She raised her cuffed hands awkwardly, fingers brushing the edge of his helmet.
For a split second he hesitated.
Then he allowed it.
She lifted the mask just enough.
Their lips met.
Deep. Desperate.
The doors in front of them began to part.
Light flooded in, brilliant and blinding.
She lowered the helmet back into place.
And the arena roared.
The chariot rolled into a colossal amphitheater carved from red stone. Stands rose upon stands upon stands, filled with Geonosians screeching in anticipation.
At the center stood four towering pillars of stone.
Two were already occupied.
Qui-Gon Jinn stood chained, posture straight despite the restraints, prosthetic arm gleaming faintly in the sun.
Obi-Wan Kenobi hung beside him, eyes sharp and calculating.
The chariot halted.
Anakin and Padmé were dragged down and chained to the remaining pillars.
Obi-Wan leaned slightly toward Anakin as much as his bonds allowed.
"You couldn't follow orders for one mission," he said dryly.
Anakin didn't respond.
He was staring ahead.
His breathing slowed.
But the Force around him did not.
It thickened.
Darkened.
Qui-Gon felt it immediately.
His eyes flicked toward his Padawan.
Concern—not fear—but concern.
Above, on an elevated balcony carved into the arena wall, the leaders of the Separatist movement emerged.
Poggle the Lesser, wings twitching with anticipation.
Count Dooku, calm, hands folded behind his back.
Newt Gunray, thin lips curling with satisfaction.
Wat Tambor and others of the Trade Federation and Techno Union stood nearby.
And beside them, helmeted once more, Jango Fett.
Poggle raised his arms and screeched in Geonosian.
The crowd answered in a deafening wave of sound.
Gates opened.
From the shadows lumbered an Acklay, its long claws scraping stone as it locked onto Obi-Wan.
A Reek thundered forward toward Qui-Gon, massive horned head lowered.
A Nexu padded out, sinuous and deadly, eyes fixing on Padmé.
And then the ground trembled.
From the largest gate emerged something heavier.
Broader.
A hulking Rancor, larger than most bred for Hutt pits, muscles rippling under scarred flesh as it sniffed the air.
Its gaze settled on Anakin.
The arena erupted in noise as the gates thundered shut behind the beasts.
Padmé was already moving.
She had picked one of the cuff locks and scaled the enourmous pillar.
The Nexu lunged for her, claws scraping stone as it sprang upward, jaws snapping inches from her legs. She twisted her bound wrists, teeth clenched, and swung the slack of her chain downward like a flail.
The metal cracked across the creature's snout.
It shrieked and recoiled—but only for a second.
Padmé pulled herself higher up the pillar, muscles burning. The Nexu leapt again, claws digging into the stone, climbing with horrifying speed.
It reached her.
Its talons tore across her back in a flash of pain.
She gasped, barely suppressing a cry as red bloomed across the pale fabric of her outfit. The Nexu snarled, preparing to leap again.
On the pillar beside Padme, Qui-Gon moved with calculated precision.
The Reek charged him in a blind rage, horn lowered to gore him against the pillar. Qui-Gon waited until the last possible second, then vaulted upward, swinging his chain over the beast's thick neck.
He mounted the creature in one fluid motion.
The Reek bucked violently, trying to dislodge him. He braced his prosthetic arm against the creature's skull
"Easy," he murmured—not to calm it, but to time it.
The Reek lunged forward again, smashing its head against the stone pillar.
The horn caught the chain.
With a violent snap, the restraints shattered.
Qui-Gon flipped cleanly off the creature's back, landing in a crouch as the Reek stumbled in confusion.
Obi-Wan was less elegant.
The Acklay's massive claw struck his pillar with enough force to splinter the stone. One of the impacts clipped his restraints, twisting them loose enough for him to slip one arm free.
He twisted his body at just the right moment, letting the Acklay's sweeping limb smash the rest of the bindings apart.
He hit the sand hard but rolled through it, coming up on his feet.
The Acklay lunged again.
Obi-Wan dove aside, scrambling toward a discarded spear left by one of the arena handlers. He snatched it up just as the creature's claw crashed down where he had stood.
"Of course," he muttered under his breath.
At the center of it all—
Anakin stood still.
The Rancor charged him like a landslide.
The ground trembled.
His restraints snapped without ceremony.
Not violently.
Simply undone.
The chains fell away.
The Rancor roared and bore down.
Anakin's hand rose.
The pillar behind him exploded.
Stone shattered outward in a violent spray of debris, fragments hovering midair for a breathless instant.
Then he thrust his hand forward.
The shards became missiles.
They struck with surgical brutality.
Stone spears punched through hide and muscle, driving deep into the Rancor's chest and throat.
The creature staggered.
More fragments followed—piercing its eye, lodging in its skull.
The Rancor collapsed in a thunderous crash that shook the entire arena floor.
Dust rose in a choking cloud.
The Geonosian crowd shrieked—confused now, uncertain.
On the balcony above, Count Dooku watched with narrowed eyes.
Beside him, Jango Fett's visor tracked the battlefield calmly.
Then—
A blade ignited.
Violet light flared beside Jango's helmet.
Mace Windu stood behind him, lightsaber humming inches from the Mandalorian's neck.
"Drop the weapons," Mace said evenly.
Jango did not move.
Dooku turned slowly.
"Master Windu," he said, almost amused. "You should know by now—it will take more than you to rescue your friends."
Mace's expression did not shift.
"That is fortunate," he replied. "Because I did not come alone."
Across the arena—
One by one—
Then all at once—
Lightsabers ignited.
Green. Blue. Yellow. A few rare hues scattered among them.
Nearly two hundred Jedi stood revealed in the stands, cloaks falling away as blades hummed to life.
The geonosians scattered like the bugs they were, terrified of the ensuing conflict.
For one heartbeat—
Hope flared within the captured Jedi.
Then—
A heavy, synchronized stomping echoed behind Mace.
He did not need to turn to know.
Droids.
Ranks upon ranks of battle droids poured into the balcony from behind, blasters raised.
They opened fire.
Mace moved instantly, deflecting the first volley with a blur of violet arcs before leaping clean off the balcony into the arena below.
Blaster bolts rained downward.
Blaster fire erupted in disciplined volleys, red bolts cutting through dust and sunlight. The arena floor became a storm of light and metal.
Mace hit the sand in a controlled roll, coming up already deflecting a volley of fire.
"Jedi—form ranks!" he barked.
They did not need to be told twice.
Obi-Wan fell in beside Qui-Gon, blade flashing in tight defensive arcs. Qui-Gon now stradled the reek, controlled via the force.
Padmé dropped from her pillar despite the burning pain across her back. She landed hard in the sand, rolled—and sprinted straight for Qui-Gon.
The Reek thundered past her, and she leapt, grabbing onto the creature's thick hide with one hand as Qui-Gon extended his prosthetic arm to steady her.
"Hold fast," he told her calmly, even as blaster bolts scorched the sand around them.
Anakin stood at the center of it all.
His sabers were not yet in his hands.
The Force around him trembled.
Droids rushed him from three directions.
He lifted both arms, palms open.
The sand rose in a spiraling wall.
Blaster bolts vanished into a vortex of dust and debris. Droids staggered as chunks of stone and shattered pillar fragments ripped free from the ground, flung outward in a lethal radius.
He moved forward through the chaos like a storm's eye.
Above, on the balcony—
Jango Fett's hand inched toward his blasters.
Count Dooku noticed the movement—but too late.
Twin blaster bolts fired toward the Count's chest.
Dooku's red blade ignited in an elegant flash, deflecting both shots effortlessly.
Sparks flew.
Jango didn't hesitate. He launched skyward on his jetpack, firing as he ascended. Blaster fire streaked toward Dooku, forcing the Count to step back into the balcony's cover.
Dooku's eyes narrowed.
So," he murmured, "you choose your allegiance."
Jango did not answer.
He dove.
Landing among the Jedi in the arena, armor glinting beneath Geonosian sunlight.
Mace Windu pivoted instantly, blade snapping up toward Jango's throat once more.
Several Jedi followed suit, unsure.
"Stand down!" Qui-Gon's voice carried across the chaos.
The Reek barreled through a cluster of droids, tossing metal bodies aside as Qui-Gon steered it toward Windu.
"I made a deal," Qui-Gon said firmly. "Lead us to Dooku, then be exonerated in the eyes of the Republic and the Jedi.
Mace's jaw tightened.
"You negotiated immunity for him?" Windu demanded over the roar of battle.
"It is done," Qui-Gon replied evenly. "And I will honor it. There are greater threats before us."
Blaster bolts screamed past them.
This was not the moment for internal division.
Mace lowered his blade slightly—but did not look pleased.
Jango turned.
His visor found Anakin.
The boy—no, the man—stood surrounded by destroyed droids, breathing steady beneath his mask.
The dark side rolled off him like heat from a furnace.
Jango approached without hesitation.
"How are you holding up?" he asked bluntly.
Anakin did not answer at first.
The sand vibrated faintly around his boots.
His anger was quiet.
Contained.
But immense.
"I'll tell you later," Anakin said at last.
Jango nodded once.
Then he tossed both sabers toward him.
Anakin caught them midair without looking.
Purple and black-red ignited simultaneously.
This time, when he moved—
It was different.
No hesitation.
No restraint.
He carved through droid ranks with renewed ferocity. The purple blade flowed in disciplined arcs, while the darker saber cut with brutal precision.
Master Windu noticed.
So did Count Dooku.
Dooku watched from the balcony, eyes narrowing thoughtfully.
"Yes," he murmured. "There it is."
The battle dragged on.
Jedi fell.
One by one.
Blaster bolts pierced defenses.
Super battle droids advanced in relentless waves.
Droideka shields flared to life, forcing even seasoned Masters backward.
Soon the arena floor was littered with broken metal—and broken Jedi.
The survivors gathered instinctively into a shrinking defensive circle.
Anakin Skywalker.
Padmé Naberrie.
Mace Windu.
Obi-Wan Kenobi.
Agen Kolar.
Luminara Unduli.
Stass Allie.
Bultar Swan.
Shaak Ti.
Saesee Tiin.
Kit Fisto.
Ki-Adi-Mundi.
Plo Koon.
Aayla Secura.
Qui-Gon Jinn.
Jango Fett.
They stood shoulder to shoulder, blades ignited, blasters ready.
Droids surrounded them in suffocating numbers.
The blaster fire ceased.
Silence fell over the arena.
Count Dooku held out his hand, halting the droids from finishing off what remained.
Master Windu," Dooku called, voice echoing across the dust-filled coliseum. "You have fought bravely. But you are outnumbered, surrender and end this senseless bloodshed."
Mace did not lower his blade.
"We will not be prisoners to be bargained with," he said sharply.
Dooku sighed.
"Such resolve," he said softly. "So wasteful."
He raised one hand.
Droids lifted their rifles in unison.
The survivors tightened formation.
Padmé looked upward suddenly.
Her eyes widened.
"Anakin," she said urgently. "Look."
The sky darkened.
A distant roar filled the air.
Not droids.
Not Geonosians.
Gunships.
LAAT/i transports burst over the arena walls in waves, cannons blazing. Explosions ripped through droid ranks.
More gunships followed.
And at the forefront—
A smaller craft descended.
Its ramp lowered.
Grand Master Yoda stood at its edge, cane in hand, eyes sharp.
The clones formed a defensive perimeter instantly, blaster fire cutting precise lanes through droid ranks to reach the surrounded Jedi.
"Fall back!" Mace ordered.
The Jedi surged toward the gunships.
Clones provided covering fire with machine-like coordination.
Padmé was lifted aboard by a trooper as Anakin cut down two super battle droids closing in on her.
Jango rocketed skyward again, covering the retreat.
Qui-Gon leapt from the Reek at the last moment, landing inside a gunship as the beast was cut down behind him.
One by one, the survivors were pulled from the arena.
The gunships ascended.
Blaster fire followed them skyward.
Below, the arena burned.
The battle, however—
Was only beginning.
///
The gunship roared through the ash-choked sky of Geonosis, engines straining as it banked hard through pillars of smoke rising from the battlefield below.
Inside, the hull rattled violently with each evasive maneuver.
Anakin stood near the open side hatch, fingers gripping the frame, wind tearing at his robes. His mask reflected the burning landscape in fractured streaks of orange.
Obi-Wan stood opposite him, steady despite the turbulence.
Padmé was standing beside Anakin, gripping a handle above her.
"There," Anakin said sharply.
Ahead of them, Count Dooku's speeder
cut across the canyon skyline, elegant and deliberate even in retreat.
"He's heading for the hangars," Obi-Wan observed.
"Not for long," Anakin replied.
Behind them, another Republic gunship veered off in flames, struck by heavy artillery.
Then Dooku flashed a signal to the surrounding speeder protecting him.
Two Geonosian escort fighters peeled off from a ridge and turned toward the pursuing gunship.
The first volley struck like a hammer.
The gunship lurched violently.
The floor tilted beneath them.
Padmé cried out as the blast tore through the side plating. A clone trooper beside her lost his footing—
And the next explosion ripped the panel open entirely.
For a heartbeat, everything slowed.
Sand and sky spun.
Padmé and the trooper were thrown into the open air.
"PADMÉ!" Anakin's voice tore through the cockpit.
He lunged for the opening.
"Pilot—turn us around!" he roared.
The gunship banked violently.
"Anakin!" Obi-Wan snapped, grabbing him by the shoulder. "We cannot lose Dooku!"
Anakin shoved him off.
"She just fell into a warzone!"
"And if Dooku escapes," Obi-Wan shot back, voice sharp but controlled, "this war spreads beyond Geonosis. We can end it here!"
Anakin's hands trembled.
"I don't care about the war," he spat. "I'm going back."
Obi-Wan's eyes hardened.
"You will be expelled from the Order."
Anakin turned on him.
"Then damn the Order!"
The Force surged around him, raw and jagged.
The pilot shouted over the intercom that they were taking sustained fire.
Obi-Wan stepped closer, lowering his voice but not his intensity.
"What would Padmé do?" he asked.
Anakin froze.
The wind howled through the breach in the hull.
"She would pursue Dooku," Obi-Wan continued. "She would finish what we started."
Anakin's jaw tightened.
His fists clenched so hard the leather of his gloves creaked.
The Force jittered around him like static before a lightning strike.
Then slowly—
He exhaled.
"Stay on him," Anakin told the pilot, voice cold now.
The gunship surged forward.
///
Padmé hit the sand hard, rolling down the dune in a cascade of dust and grit.
The clone trooper landed several meters away, groaning.
For a moment, the world rang.
Then she pushed herself upright.
The trooper staggered toward her.
"Ma'am—are you injured?"
Padmé steadied herself, brushing sand from her face.
"I'm fine," she said, though her shoulder throbbed from the fall. "You?"
"Still in one piece."
She nodded.
"What's your name?"
The trooper hesitated only a second.
"Rex."
She studied him. Something in his tone felt more grounded than the others.
"Rex," she said firmly, slipping back into command, "we need communications. Dooku cannot escape this planet."
"Yes, ma'am."
Rex began signaling for reinforcements.
Padmé looked toward the horizon.
The gunship was a shrinking silhouette in pursuit.
Her jaw tightened.
"Annie," she whispered under her breath.
///
The pursuing gunship screamed into the canyon where Dooku's craft was landing.
Blaster fire clipped their starboard engine.
The pilot barely kept it steady.
"Brace!" someone shouted.
The gunship skidded across the hangar floor in a shower of sparks—
—and exploded behind them as Anakin and Obi-Wan leapt clear.
The blast wave rolled over them, heat washing across their backs.
They didn't look back.
They ran.
Inside the cavernous hangar, Dooku stood before his sleek solar sail craft.
He turned slowly as the two Jedi approached.
"Persistent," Dooku said calmly.
Anakin and Obi-Wan ignited their sabers in unison.
Blue and purple light illuminated the chamber.
"We end this now," Obi-Wan said.
Dooku drew his curved-hilt blade.
Red ignited.
"Very well."
They circled.
Anakin to the left. Obi-Wan to the right.
Dooku waited.
Anakin struck first.
Fast.
Aggressive.
Purple blade slashed toward Dooku's shoulder.
Dooku parried effortlessly, redirecting the blow into a spinning counter that Obi-Wan intercepted just in time.
For a few moments—
It was even.
Obi-Wan's precision locked Dooku in measured exchanges, his defensive mastery forcing the Count to adjust angles constantly.
Anakin pressed from the opposite flank, dual blades weaving in a relentless rhythm.
Dooku's cape snapped as he pivoted.
He forced Anakin back with a precise riposte, then swept low, nearly taking Obi-Wan's legs.
Metal screeched against metal.
Sparks showered.
The hangar walls echoed with blade clashes.
Dooku's technique was elegant.
Efficient.
He began isolating them.
He baited Anakin into overextending.
Then shifted instantly—
A flash of red.
Obi-Wan cried out.
The blade sliced across his thigh and grazed his forearm in the same fluid motion.
Not deep—
But precise.
Obi-Wan collapsed, unable to bear weight on his leg.
Anakin turned—
Too late.
Dooku kicked Obi-Wan's saber aside and sent him sliding across the floor with a controlled Force push.
Obi-Wan tried to rise—
His leg failed beneath him.
He was out.
Anakin stood alone.
Dooku faced him calmly.
They began to circle.
"You fight well," Dooku said, studying him. "But you lack refinement."
Anakin said nothing.
He was different now.
Still.
Focused.
"You carry much anger," Dooku continued. "The dark side coils around you. Interesting that the Jedi permit such… indulgence."
Anakin's blades hummed.
He lunged.
Faster than before.
For several exchanges, Dooku was forced fully on the defensive.
Anakin's purple blade clashed high—
The black-red blade cut low—
Dooku parried both but was driven backward a step.
Then two.
Then three.
The air crackled.
Dooku's eyes narrowed.
The boy was stronger than expected.
But strength without control was exploitable.
Anakin overcommitted.
Dooku seized the opening.
He extended his hand.
Lightning erupted.
It struck Anakin full in the chest.
Electric agony tore through him.
He screamed as the lightning hurled him backward into a column.
His sabers clattered from his hands.
Dooku advanced.
Red light bathed the hangar walls.
Anakin lay against the fractured column, smoke rising from his robes where the lightning had burned through fabric and flesh. His muscles twitched involuntarily, nerves still screaming from the shock.
Obi-Wan tried to push himself up.
"Anakin—" he strained.
But his leg gave out again.
Dooku stepped closer.
"You have potential," he said, almost regretfully. "But potential is not mastery."
He lifted his saber for the killing stroke—
A small green shape entered the hangar.
Soft footsteps.
Measured.
Ancient.
"End this, you will not."
Dooku paused.
He turned.
Yoda stood near the entrance, cane in hand, robes brushing the floor. His expression was calm—but his eyes were not.
"Master Yoda," Dooku greeted, inclining his head slightly. "It has been some time."
"Too long, it has," Yoda replied.
Dooku extinguished his blade briefly, stepping back from Anakin.
"Still clinging to the Republic, are you?" Dooku asked.
Yoda's ears twitched faintly.
"Clinging to peace, I am, my old padawan."
Dooku ignited his saber again.
"So be it, my old Master."
Yoda moved faster than sight.
Green light exploded into motion as he leapt, his blade intercepting Dooku's mid-strike before it could descend upon Anakin.
The two Masters locked sabers.
The air hummed.
Obi-Wan watched from the floor, breath shallow.
Anakin groaned.
The lightning had not broken him.
It had awakened something.
Yoda and Dooku separated, circling.
"You have grown powerful," Dooku said, blade angled low. "More powerful than any Jedi alive."
"Power," Yoda said quietly, "not everything."
Dooku attacked first—precise, controlled, aristocratic in form. Yoda met him with a flurry of acrobatic movement, green blade dancing in tight arcs that deflected and returned in seamless rhythm.
They were evenly matched.
Neither dominant.
Neither yielding.
Then—
A sound.
A laugh.
Low at first.
Then rising.
Both Masters glanced aside.
Anakin was standing.
Slowly.
The air in the hangar shifted.
The Force twisted inward toward him.
His head tilted slightly.
Then he laughed again.
Not hysterical.
Not unhinged.
Cold.
"You truly thought," Anakin said, voice distorted slightly by the crackle of residual energy, "that you understood the dark side?"
Dooku stepped back a half pace.
Yoda did not move—but his eyes sharpened.
Anakin's hand rose.
He reached up.
Obi-Wan's breath caught.
"Anakin—don't—"
Too late.
The mask came off.
It fell to the floor with a hollow metallic clatter.
For the first time—
Dooku saw him.
Red skin.
Deep facial ridges etched with ancient lineage.
Crimson eyes burning—not with chaos—but with certainty.
Obi-Wan stared.
He had never seen his friend's face.
Not once.
The silence thickened.
Anakin smiled.
"You parade around with lightning and red blades," he continued, voice smooth now, controlled, "and you think that makes you Sith?"
Dooku's expression shifted.
Surprise plastered first, then shifted to calculation.
"I do not claim to be a Sith," Dooku replied carefully. "I have seen the Sith. I understand what they are."
Anakin's smile widened.
"No," he said softly. "You don't."
The Force darkened.
It pressed outward from him in waves.
Yoda felt it.
Deep.
Old.
Anakin stepped forward.
"I am the last of the Sith Purebloods," he said, voice carrying weight that seemed older than him. "My bloodline descends from the warriors who forged empires before the Republic ever drew breath."
He ignited both sabers.
Purple.
And black-red.
The darker blade's core shimmered like a void wrapped in flame.
"I descend from Mandalorian warlords and Sith kings," Anakin continued. "I am heir to an empire you could not comprehend."
He stepped closer to Dooku.
"And you," he said quietly, "are a man playing with shadows."
Dooku lunged.
Not out of anger.
Out of instinct.
Anakin met him.
This time—
It was different.
Anakin's movements were no longer aggressive chaos.
They were precise.
Focused.
Hate and grief sharpened into clarity.
Dooku found himself giving ground.
The purple blade forced high guard.
The black-red blade cut low with ruthless economy.
Anakin pressed him back toward the solar sail craft.
Yoda did not intervene.
He watched.
Surprise was the only thing on the Grand Masters face at the time.
Anakin pivoted, blades crossing in a crushing downward strike that forced Dooku to one knee for half a heartbeat.
Shock flickered across Dooku's face.
The boy had surpassed expectation.
Anakin's free hand snapped outward.
A small holoprojector flew from Dooku's belt into his grasp.
Dooku's eyes widened.
Anakin did not know what it was.
He only felt its importance.
He crushed the casing slightly, not enough to destroy it—but enough to make clear he could.
Dooku now was fighting harder than before, trying to retreieve whatever Anakin had taken.
Anakin held, still pushing Dooku to a limit he did not know he had.
Dooku knew what he had to do; he disengaged.
He lashed out with a wave of the Force that sent debris flying between them, pillars falling toward the Jedi, then pivoted and leapt aboard his craft.
The solar sail ship blasted free of the hangar.
Silence fell.
Anakin stood motionless.
Breathing.
The dark side churned around him—
Then slowly receded.
Like a tide pulling back from shore.
His shoulders sagged.
He dropped to his knees.
The holoprojector slipped from his hand.
He reached for his mask.
Picked it up.
Placed it back over his face.
When he turned toward Yoda—
He was no longer smiling.
"I'm sorry," he said quietly.
The words were not defiant.
They were honest.
Yoda regarded him for a long moment.
"Hmmm."
The green blade extinguished.
"Powerful, you are," Yoda said. "Dangerous, that power is."
Anakin lowered his head.
Obi-Wan exhaled slowly, still processing what he had seen.
Footsteps thundered into the hangar.
Clone troopers fanned out, securing the perimeter.
Padmé entered moments later, sand still clinging to her clothes, Rex at her side.
Her eyes found Anakin immediately.
She crossed the distance without hesitation and wrapped her arms around him.
He held her tightly.
The war had begun.
Outside, Geonosis burned.
Inside that hangar, something else had shifted.
The Clone Wars were not merely a conflict between Republic and Separatists.
They were the opening movement in something older.
And far darker.
...
Notes: Alrigt super long chapter, I hope you enjoyed it. What do y'all think Anakin stole, its kinda obvious but I wonder if any of y'all don't remember. Anakin's face is revealed to Master Yoda, how thats gonna go is to be foreseen in the future. Leave a review, you get 2 extra chapters cause people left 2 reviews, so if you want more for tomorrow, leave a review.