Our starship began its descent toward a clearing in the forest, several kilometers from the Concordia mines. The cloaking systems hummed softly, bending light and sensor waves around our hull, rendering us invisible to Death Watch's detection grid.
Through the viewport, I watched the moon's surface grow closer, dense forests of wroshyr-like trees, their massive trunks twisted and gnarled, their canopies so thick they blocked out most of the starlight. Between the trees, I could see rocky outcroppings and deep ravines, the kind of terrain that made conventional warfare nearly impossible.
Perfect for guerrilla fighters. Perfect for Death Watch.
The tension in the cockpit was thick enough to cut with a lightsaber.
Seris sat in the co-pilot's seat, her silver hair pulled back in a tight braid, her gray eyes scanning the terrain below with practiced precision. Her hands moved over the controls with the kind of calm efficiency that came from years of training, but I could feel the anxiety beneath her composure through our Force bond.
She's worried. Not about the mission itself, but about what it means. About what I'm becoming.
Anakin stood behind us, one hand braced against the bulkhead, the other resting on his lightsaber hilt. His blue eyes were sharp, focused, but there was an edge to his presence, excitement mixed with concern. He wanted action, wanted to prove himself, but he also understood the stakes.
He trusts me. They both do. And I'm leading them into a confrontation with terrorists who have every reason to kill us on sight.
The weight of that responsibility pressed down on me like a physical force.
"I still think this is a bad idea, Cain," Seris said quietly, not taking her eyes off the controls. "I'll still have your back, but we should have at least told someone. Just in case things go south. We don't know how many people they have down there."
"You're not wrong," Anakin said, his voice carrying that familiar mix of confidence and recklessness. "But that just means we need to take this seriously and not let them get the better of us."
He flashed a smirk that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Besides, when has that ever stopped us before?"
"You're both right," I said, keeping my voice steady. "But remember—we aren't here to fight them. We're here to talk to one person. That's it."
Lie. Or at least, half-truth. If talking doesn't work, I'll do whatever it takes to get Bo-Katan on my side. Even if that means fighting her. Even if that means killing Pre Vizsla myself.
The ship touched down with barely a whisper, repulsor engines cutting out as we settled into the forest floor. The landing struts compressed slightly, absorbing the impact, and then everything went silent.
For a moment, none of us moved.
Then Seris brought up a holographic map, the blue light casting shadows across her face. "The mines are approximately eight kilometers northeast. If we move at Force-enhanced speed, we can cover the distance in under ten minutes."
"What about patrols?" Anakin asked.
"The mercenaries I hired should be creating a distraction on the western perimeter," I said, pulling up my hood. "That should draw most of Death Watch's attention away from the main entrance. Bo-Katan should be one of the few guards left at the base."
"Should be," Seris repeated, her tone making it clear what she thought of that plan.
I met her eyes. "I know it's not perfect. But it's the best chance we have."
She held my gaze for a long moment, then nodded. "Okay. But if this goes wrong...."
"It won't," I said, with more confidence than I felt.
It can't. Too much is riding on this.
We exited the ship, and the forest swallowed us whole.
The air on Concordia was cold and damp, carrying the scent of moss and decaying vegetation. The trees towered above us, their trunks easily ten meters in diameter, their roots creating a labyrinth of natural barriers and hiding places. Overhead, the canopy was so dense that only scattered patches of starlight filtered through, creating pools of silver illumination in an otherwise oppressive darkness.
My shatterpoint sight activated instinctively, showing me the weak points in the terrain, the unstable rocks, the rotting branches, the places where the ground might give way beneath our feet. But it also showed me something else: the fragility of this moment, the countless ways this could go catastrophically wrong.
One misstep. One wrong word. One Death Watch patrol we didn't account for. That's all it would take.
"Stay close," I whispered, reaching out through the Force to enhance my physical abilities. "And stay quiet."
We moved.
Force-enhanced speed was one of the first advanced techniques we'd learned as Padawans, but using it in terrain like this required absolute focus. We weren't just running, we were flowing through the forest like water, our bodies moving faster than normal human perception could track, our senses extended through the Force to navigate obstacles before we reached them.
Seris moved like a acrobat, her footfalls silent even at this speed, her body weaving between trees with the kind of grace that made it look effortless. She'd always been the most naturally athletic of our group, and in moments like this, it showed.
Anakin was raw power and instinct, his movements less refined but no less effective. He cleared obstacles with explosive bursts of speed, sometimes jumping between tree branches like they were stepping stones, sometimes vaulting over fallen logs with casual ease. There was a joy in his movement, a freedom that came from pushing his body to its limits.
And me?
I was calculation and precision. Every step planned, every movement optimized for efficiency. My shatterpoint sight showed me the path of least resistance, and I followed it with mechanical accuracy.
We're not just Padawans anymore, I thought as we raced through the darkness. We're weapons. Tools shaped by the Jedi Order to serve a purpose.
And right now, I'm using us for my own purposes. Just like Palpatine would.
The thought made my stomach turn, but I pushed it aside. I could deal with the moral implications later. Right now, I needed to focus.
We covered the first few kilometers in minutes, our Force-enhanced speed eating up the distance. The forest blurred around us, trees becoming vertical streaks of brown and green, the ground a dark smear beneath our feet. Occasionally, we'd leap across ravines or scale cliff faces, using the Force to augment our strength and agility.
At one point, Seris launched herself between tree branches, her body spinning in mid-air like a dancer, her silver hair catching the scattered starlight. She landed on a branch twenty meters up, then immediately pushed off, continuing her forward momentum without breaking stride.
She's beautiful when she moves like this, I thought. Like she's finally free of all the expectations and pressure. Like she's just... herself.
Anakin cleared a ridge with a single Force-enhanced jump, his body arcing through the air in a perfect parabola before landing in a crouch on the other side. He looked back at us with a grin that was pure adrenaline and excitement.
He loves this. The danger. The challenge. The feeling of being alive.
I need to make sure that love doesn't turn into something darker. That he doesn't start seeking out danger for its own sake.
We slowed as we approached the tree line, our enhanced speed bleeding away as we dropped back into normal movement. The mines were just ahead, a sprawling complex of industrial buildings and excavation sites, lit by harsh floodlights that created pools of stark illumination against the darkness.
And there, near the main entrance, I could see a small fire. Standing beside it, clad in distinctive blue Mandalorian armor, was a single figure.
"Is that her?" Seris whispered, crouching behind a fallen log.
I nodded, my golden eyes fixed on the armored figure. "I paid the mercenaries to create a distraction on the western perimeter. She should be the only one here to guard the base."
Should be. That word again. So much riding on assumptions and incomplete information.
"Okay, Cain," Anakin said, placing a hand on my shoulder. His voice was steady, supportive. "It's your show."
There's no turning back now. I have to make this encounter work. I have to get Bo-Katan on my side. Or everything I've been planning falls apart.
We approached the fire slowly, deliberately, making no effort to hide our presence. Stealth wouldn't help us here, Bo-Katan was a trained warrior, and she'd detect us the moment we got close enough. Better to approach openly, to show we weren't trying to ambush her.
But not too openly. Not so openly that she thinks we're idiots.
The moment we stepped into the firelight's range, Bo-Katan's posture shifted. Her helmet snapped toward our position, and I saw the telltale glow of her HUD activating. Her hands moved to her blaster pistols with practiced speed, drawing and firing in one smooth motion.
Three blaster bolts screamed toward us, aimed center mass. I raised my left arm, coating it in a barrier of Force energy. The bolts struck the invisible shield and deflected harmlessly into the darkness, leaving scorch marks on nearby trees.
"Whoever is there, state yourself before I aim to kill you!"
That's a lie if I ever heard one. All three of those shots were aimed to kill. She was already trying to end this before it started.
I stepped forward into the firelight, letting my hood fall back so she could see my face. My golden eyes glowed faintly in the flickering illumination.
"I've come to speak with Bo-Katan of House Kryze," I said, keeping my voice calm and clear. "I need to speak with you about the future of Mandalore, its culture as warriors, and what your people could become."
Bo-Katan kept her body at the ready, her blasters still drawn, her helmet hiding her face. But I could feel her attention sharpening, her focus narrowing on me with laser precision.
"What do you seek from a Kryze?" Her voice was distorted by the helmet's vocoder, but I could hear the suspicion beneath it. "Are you bounty hunters? Or did the Duchess finally grow a pair and decide that Death Watch is a threat that needs to be taken seriously?"
I took a step closer, my golden eyes never leaving her helmet. "I'm not here on behalf of the Duchess. I'm here to talk to you. I want to establish contact with you."
"Why?" Bo-Katan's helmet tilted slightly. "Do you kids want to join Death Watch or something? And what's your name, kid?"
"No, that's not why we're here." I paused, choosing my words carefully. "I am here to talk to you about getting Death Watch to join me, and the Jedi, in a battle that is soon to come. To help your people redeem themselves. To transform them from bloodthirsty warriors and conquerors into protectors and guardians of the weak."
I let that sink in for a moment before continuing.
"I know you're better than this version of Death Watch. You don't believe in your sister's way of only peace, which I agree with. Your people are warriors through and through. If you're not at war with others, you're at war with each other. But I know the people of Mandalore are powerful when they are united, and can achieve better things than just conquest."
The tension in the air became thick enough to choke on. The fire between us crackled low, casting dancing shadows across the broken stone and twisted metal of the mining complex.
Bo-Katan stood perfectly still for a long moment. Then, slowly, deliberately, she reached up and removed her helmet.
Her face was sharp and angular, with high cheekbones and a strong jawline. Her short red hair was cut in a practical style that fell just past her ears, and her light green eyes had a penetrating quality that made me feel like she was looking straight through me.
She was younger than I'd expected, maybe mid-twenties, but there was an old weariness in her eyes, the kind that came from seeing too much violence, too much betrayal.
She gazed at me with an intensity that made my skin prickle. Her expression was cold and stoic, her posture still on guard. When she spoke, her voice was sharp as a vibroblade.
"You speak like you know us. Like you know me." She took a step forward, her armor gleaming in the orange firelight. "But tell me something, little Jedi."
Another step closer.
"Why would I, let alone all of Mandalore, trust the Jedi? You have been our enemy for centuries. You're the lapdogs of the Republic, the self-righteous peacekeepers who use violence to impose your will and then call it justice."
I met her gaze, steady and unflinching.
"Under your so-called peace, the galaxy has burned so many times. And if it wasn't from a fallen Jedi turning into a monster, it was from the corruption of the Republic you serve. Mandalore may be divided, but we haven't fallen so far that we don't remember our conflicts with the Jedi."
Bo-Katan's voice rose, passion bleeding through her controlled exterior.
"Do you know of the Mandalorian Crusades? When our people carved out empires across the galaxy, only to be slaughtered by your precious Republic and its Jedi dogs? When your Order decided that Mandalorian strength was a threat that needed to be eliminated?"
I nodded once. "Of course I do."
"Do you remember the Mandalorian Wars?" Bo-Katan's hands clenched into fists. "When Revan, one of yours, a Jedi Knight, rallied other Jedi to wage genocide against us in the name of justice? When he became the very thing you claim to fight against, and your Order did nothing to stop him until it was too late?"
She took another step forward, and I could see the pain in her eyes now, raw and real.
"And the Mandalorian Excision? When your Order ordered the complete extermination of our warrior culture? When Mandalorian cities were flattened, archives erased, our entire identity targeted because you feared what we stood for? Because we represented everything the Jedi couldn't control?"
Her voice dropped to something quieter but no less intense.
"My people were forced to live in domed cities on a poisoned world because of what the Jedi did to us. We lost our sky. Our freedom. Our way of life. And you want me to trust you?"
She's not wrong. About any of it.
The Jedi had done all those things. Maybe not with the explicit goal of genocide, but the result was the same. They'd seen Mandalorian power as a threat to galactic stability and had acted to eliminate that threat with overwhelming force.
Just like they'd do to the Sith. Just like they'd do to anyone who challenged their vision of peace.
I let her words settle. Let the pain behind them ring in the air. Then I spoke, my voice calm, clear, and direct.
"You're right."
Bo-Katan blinked, clearly not expecting that response.
I stepped forward into the firelight, close enough now that I could see the surprise in her eyes.
"I know about the Crusades. The Wars. The Excision. I know that Revan, a Jedi, became the monster you feared, and then later tried to stop the very war he'd started. I know the Republic and the Jedi Council saw power they didn't understand and chose fear over wisdom."
I paused, letting that acknowledgment hang in the air. "But don't forget the Cathar Massacre."
Bo-Katan's expression hardened.
"On the world of Cathar," I continued, "your people didn't just fight a military engagement. You slaughtered millions of civilians, men, women, children, and broadcast it across the galaxy as a warning. That massacre ignited the spark that motivated Revan and other Jedi to join the war. That wasn't the only planet, either. There were so many others."
Bo-Katan scowled. "That was...."
"Your people targeted civilian colonies and factories," I pressed on, not letting her deflect. "On Wayland, you bombed population centers and wiped them out. You started wars without reason except to expand your empire. You sided with Dark Jedi like Exar Kun, using the Force-users you claimed to despise when it served your purposes."
I took another step closer, my golden eyes burning in the firelight.
"The Mandalorians have such a long history of war and bloodshed. But I know your people are capable of more than that. And you can help lead them to something better. Something way better than Pre Vizsla ever could."
Bo-Katan's eyes narrowed dangerously. "And what do you know about Pre Vizsla? What does a child know about someone like him?"
My golden eyes flared brighter.
"I know he talks about honor but builds his power in shadows like a coward. I know he doesn't gather warriors in the open but whispers in caves, poisoning the minds of clans with words of glory and fear, but never action that builds anything lasting."
I could feel Seris and Anakin's attention on me, could sense their surprise at the venom in my voice.
"He talks about the ways of Mandalore of old, but what did that get your people? Constant wars, killing others and being killed in return. Then you're divided, and when you finally unite, it's only for more civil war. Pre Vizsla will drag Mandalore into a grave and call it tradition."
I stepped even closer, close enough now that I could see the flecks of gold in her green eyes.
"I know he will destroy everything your people could become, all in the name of a past that was never as glorious as he pretends."
Bo-Katan said nothing. She just stared into my eyes like she was trying to read my soul. I tilted my head, my voice softening but becoming more penetrating.
"Tell me, Bo. What does Death Watch do for the weak? For the starving? For the slaves?"
"Why would it matter about slaves?" Bo-Katan's response was immediate, almost reflexive. "Those who are too weak to help themselves should die. It's survival of the fittest."
There it is. The core of the problem. The ideology that justifies atrocity.
"You say survival of the fittest," I said quietly, "but no one is born strong. Not everyone comes from a wealthy house surrounded by warriors who would fight to protect their people. You had advantages, Bo-Katan. Training. Resources. A name that meant something."
I gestured to Anakin. "He was born a slave on Tatooine. Does that make him weak? Does that mean he deserved to die in chains?"
Anakin's expression was carefully neutral, but I could feel the emotion roiling beneath the surface through our bond.
"Death Watch wants Mandalore to rise," I continued, pressing my advantage. "Then rise for someone who doesn't have a voice. Free the oppressed. Shelter and train those who can't protect themselves. Don't just fight for blood and glory, fight for those who have no one."
Bo-Katan's eyes widened slightly, and I saw something flicker across her face. Recognition? Memory?
"You want an enemy?" I spread my hands. "You have many. Corrupt nobles. Slavers. Syndicates. The Hutts. The Zygerrians. The Pyke Syndicate. Pick one. Not your sister, and not your people who simply want to live in peace."
I took a breath, letting my voice carry the weight of conviction.
"Your sister wants to restore and unite Mandalore so your people aren't stuck in dome cities. So they can see and feel the sky and wind on their faces again. She's trying to heal the wounds the Jedi inflicted. And you're fighting her because she won't let you wage war?"
Bo-Katan's hands clenched into fists, her armored gloves creaking.
My voice dropped low, calm, and final. "Should we, children, as you say, do the job you adults won't?"
I turned slightly, gesturing to Anakin. "He's a former slave." Then to Seris. "She's born from a bloodline considered sacred by the Jedi. They never stop trying to help the galaxy, even when the galaxy doesn't want their help."
I looked back at Bo-Katan, my golden eyes blazing. "Or will you do what a true Mandalorian would?"
I took one final step forward, close enough now that I could have reached out and touched her armor.
"Will you take the Darksaber... kill Pre Vizsla... and unite your people as protectors, not tyrants?"
I raised my hand, palm up, offering something intangible but real.
"Or will I have to do it in your stead?"
Behind me, I heard Seris's sharp intake of breath. Anakin's presence in the Force shifted, surprise mixed with pride and something that might have been concern.
They didn't know I was going to go this far. Neither did I, really. But it's the truth. If Bo-Katan won't do what needs to be done, I will.
Even if it means killing Pre Vizsla myself. Even if it means taking the Darksaber and claiming leadership of a culture I barely understand.
Because the alternative is worse.
Bo-Katan didn't move. Not away, not forward. She just stood there, staring at me with an expression I couldn't quite read.
The silence stretched. The fire crackled low, sending sparks spiraling into the darkness.
Then, finally, she spoke.
"What is your name, Jedi?"
I smiled, just barely. "My name is Cain."
Bo-Katan kept staring into my eyes, and it was starting to get uncomfortable. There was something in her gaze, recognition, maybe, or confusion. Like she was seeing something that shouldn't be possible.
"How old are you?"
"I'm thirteen. I'll be fourteen soon. Why?"
Bo-Katan ignored my question and kept asking her own, like she was searching for specific answers.
"What about your parents? Do you know their names or where they are?"
I stared at her, puzzled and surprised. The Force tugged at the back of my mind, insistent and urgent.
Why is she asking this? What does she know?
"No," I said slowly. "I don't have any memories of my parents or who I was before arriving at the Jedi Temple. I was found as an infant. That's all I know."
Bo-Katan's eyes narrowed, and I saw something that looked like disappointment flicker across her face.
Seris spoke up, her voice carrying a note of suspicion. "Why are you asking these questions? Almost all younglings come to the Temple not knowing their background or former family. It's standard practice."
Bo-Katan sighed, and for the first time, she looked... tired. "It's nothing. It's just, you spoke the same way an old mentor of mine did. Both your ideals and that intense stare you have. It's just a coincidence that you both have golden-yellow eyes."
Golden-yellow eyes. An old friend. Someone who spoke about protecting the weak and fighting for those who couldn't fight for themselves.
My heart started pounding.
No way. There's no way.
I reached into my pocket, my fingers closing around the familiar weight of the black Krayt dragon pearl necklace. I pulled it out along with the Taung Iron ingot, holding them both up so Bo-Katan could see them in the firelight.
"Tell me," I said, my voice steady despite the adrenaline flooding my system. "Do these two items look familiar?"
Bo-Katan's eyes widened with shock. She stepped closer, her face a mask of fear and anger.
"Where did you get this?" Her voice was strained, almost desperate.
"It was found with me when the Jedi came to find me as a child. Apparently, I was also found with this ingot. It has Mando'a script on it, but the inscription is faded, so I can't translate it."
"This isn't possible." Bo-Katan's hands were shaking slightly. "Where is the woman who wore this necklace?"
My eyes narrowed. "I swear to you, I was found with this. Do you know who this Krayt dragon pearl belonged to?"
Bo-Katan's expression was a storm of emotions, grief, anger, hope, confusion. Anakin and Seris exchanged glances, both clearly sensing that the situation was escalating beyond what any of us had anticipated.
I placed the black pearl and ingot in Bo-Katan's hands.
She took them with trembling fingers, staring at them with deep, intense focus. Her breathing had become uneven, and I could see her jaw clenching as she fought to maintain control.
Then, suddenly, the sound of jetpacks filled the air.
Death Watch members descended from the darkness, their armor gleaming in the firelight as they surrounded us. I counted at least seven, maybe more in the shadows beyond the fire's reach.
"Who are the intruders?" one trooper demanded, his blaster rifle trained on us. The three of us were surrounded, completely outnumbered and outgunned.
"Cain, this is getting bad," Seris said quietly, her hand moving toward her lightsaber. "I think we might need to cut our losses here."
No. Not when we're this close. Not when I'm finally getting answers.
"Stand down!" Bo-Katan's voice cut through the tension like a blade, carrying absolute authority.
One of the Death Watch members looked at her, his blaster still raised. "Are you sure, Commander?"
"Yes." Bo-Katan held up the necklace so they could all see it. "Look at the boy's eyes. That golden-yellow. Look at his skin and face. Who does that remind you of?"
Murmurs rippled through the assembled warriors.
"It can't be..."
"It's not possible..."
"Is she alive?"
Seris looked at me, confusion and concern warring in her expression. "Cain, I don't know what's going on, but it's clear they're talking about you. And it seems like you might be the reason we live tonight."
"Or they might want to kill us even more now," Anakin muttered. Seris elbowed him sharply.
Bo-Katan spoke up, her voice carrying across the clearing. "Death Watch, look at this." She held up the black Krayt dragon pearl, then the ingot. "This ingot has a message."
She angled it so the firelight illuminated the faded Mando'a script. Her voice was steady as she translated, but I could hear the emotion beneath it.
"It says: 'Tor and Pre have betrayed me and tried to kill me. They killed my lover, but they will not kill my legacy. If you find this, protect my son. He is the hope of House Vizsla and possibly all of Mandalore.'"
The silence that followed was absolute.
Oh shit. Now this is intense.
My mind was racing, trying to process the implications. My parents were possibly dead. I was part of Clan Vizsla. The leaders of Death Watch had betrayed and murdered my mother.
Everything I thought I knew about my past just got turned upside down.
I broke the silence, my voice surprisingly steady. "Bo-Katan. What does this mean?"
Bo-Katan's eyes locked onto mine, and the look in them had changed completely. No longer cautious or suspicious, now they burned with conviction and purpose.
"It means Tor and Pre Vizsla have been lying to us for a very long time. And they will pay for that." She took a breath, then continued. "This necklace belonged to who I believe is your mother. Selene Vizsla."
The name hit me like a physical blow.
Selene Vizsla. My mother.
"She was the leader of Clan Vizsla," Bo-Katan continued, "and one of the staunchest opposers to the Pacifist sect of Mandalore. She and others rallied Mandalorians who wanted to seek a glorious purpose, not senseless fighting, but something meaningful. Tor and Pre didn't agree with her vision completely, but she was an incredible warrior and knew how to rally people."
Bo-Katan's expression softened slightly. "She did not hate the Pacifists. She thought they had a purpose, though even now I don't know what she saw in them. She believed Mandalore needed both, warriors to protect and pacifists to build. She wanted to unite our people, not divide them further."
She handed me the pearl and the ingot, and I felt the weight of them in a way I never had before. This was my mother's. She wore this. She held this. She left this message for me.
"Selene called us the True Mandalorians," Bo-Katan said. "We were going to show the galaxy that we were better than our history. That we could be warriors without being monsters. But she went missing along with her most trusted warriors. Tor and Pre said she was dead, but no body could be found. Not even her necklace or armor."
Bo-Katan's voice hardened. "Since that day, Tor Vizsla led us. And when he died, Pre, his brother, became our leader. The True Mandalorians died that day, and we became Death Watch."
I looked around at the assembled Death Watch members. Their blasters were no longer trained on us. They just stood there, listening, their body language shifting from hostile to... something else. Uncertain. Conflicted.
I came here not expecting much, but now I have more answers than I ever imagined. And more questions.
My mother was the leader of the True Mandalorians. She wanted to unite Mandalore. She was betrayed and murdered by the people who now lead Death Watch. And I'm her son. Her legacy. An idea formed in my mind—dangerous, audacious, but potentially game-changing.
"Bo-Katan," I said, meeting her eyes. "Does this mean you will take over Death Watch and ally with me?"
Bo-Katan shook her head. "Just because you're Selene's child doesn't mean you're not our enemy. You're a Jedi, raised in Jedi ways, not Mandalorian. But mark my words, Pre Vizsla will pay for his lies and deceits. That I swear to you on the name of House Kryze."
I nodded, accepting that. "Is there anything I can do to prove myself and join the ranks of the Mandalorians?"
I know Mandalorian culture doesn't care about species or race. Becoming a Mandalorian is an ideological and cultural commitment, not a matter of heritage. But that doesn't mean they're open to everyone.
All Mandalorians, whether born into the society or adopted, are expected to follow the Resol'nare, the Six Actions,and the Canons of Honor. Anyone who fails to live up to these ideals can be considered dar'manda, "ignorant of their heritage," even if they were a native Mandalorian.
The Resol'nare were clear:
Ba'jur: Educate your children in Mandalorian ways.
Beskar'gam: Wear Mandalorian armor.
Ara'nov: Defend yourself and your family.
Aliit: Be loyal to and contribute to your clan.
Mando'a: Speak the Mandalorian language.
Mand'alor: Rally to the Mand'alor when called upon.
I looked at Bo-Katan, my eyes burning with conviction. I knew what I had to do to get her and Death Watch on my side.
"Will you adopt me under House Kryze and teach me the Resol'nare until I prove myself ready to earn my house name?"
Bo-Katan's eyes widened. Behind me, I heard Anakin and Seris's sharp intakes of breath. Murmurs rippled through the assembled Death Watch members.
Bo-Katan's eyes narrowed. "I am banished from House Kryze. Why would you ask me of all people? Is this war you talk about so important that you'll ask a bunch of so-called terrorists to aid you?"
I pulled out a data chip and tossed it to her. She caught it reflexively.
"What is this?"
"It's the names of Mandalorians who are, as we speak, training an army of clones. Clones of a Mandalorian named Jango Fett. Whether you want to believe it or not, Mandalore is going to be the face of this war in some way or another. Those clones are trained in your ways and tactics, even your language. But they're slaves in a sense, bred only to fight the Republic's war. And it's even worse than that."
I paused, letting that sink in.
"If you teach me and ally with me, we can stop this before it gets worse."
Bo-Katan's hands tightened around the data chip. "They cloned a Mandalorian? And others are part of this scheme?" Her voice was tight with barely controlled rage. "Tell me, Cain—who in the Republic came up with this abomination of an army?"
Good. She took the bait. Now to see if this will get her on my side completely.
"It was a Sith Lord," I said quietly. "So far, others don't know it. And I can't share who yet, but the Sith are running the Republic in secret."
Anakin and Seris's eyes widened in shock. "Clone army. The Sith ?" Seris said, her voice sharp. "Cain, this is huge. Why haven't you said anything to the Council?"
I smiled grimly. "Trust me, I have my reasons. And you'll find out soon." I can't tell them about Palpatine yet. Not until I have more pieces in place. Not until I'm sure they won't go straight to the Council and ruin everything.
Bo-Katan stared at me for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Then she spoke, her voice carrying the weight of a decision that would change everything.
"Cain, if everything you say is true, you have earned the right to be brought into the ranks of the Mandalorians. That doesn't mean you're one of us yet, but out of respect for your mother and the ways of Mandalore, I will give you a chance to prove yourself."
Relief flooded through me. "Thank you."
"Don't thank me yet," Bo-Katan said sharply. "Because you now have another responsibility."
I tilted my head in confusion. "What responsibility is that?"
"The responsibility of the Darksaber. You will have to lead and redeem Clan Vizsla. Which means you must kill Pre Vizsla as well."
The words hung in the air like a death sentence. Kill Pre Vizsla. Take the Darksaber. Lead Clan Vizsla. By extension Mandalore itself. I'm thirteen years old. And I just committed myself to killing a seasoned warrior and taking control of one of the most powerful clans in Mandalorian history.
What have I done?