Act I: Dathomir
Year: 28 BBY (8 years earlier)
The stars stretched into white lines as Tein's ship tore free of hyperspace.
The transition was violent only for an instant—space folding inward, then releasing him into real space with a muted shudder through the hull. Tein did not brace. He never did. His hands remained steady on the controls, posture unchanged, as if hyperspace were merely another form of stillness.
Rhen Var vanished behind him—an endless grave of ice and memory.
The planet had surrendered its secrets reluctantly. They always did. Ancient tombs did not give themselves up to reverence. They yielded only to patience.
The dead did not deserve comfort.
Only understanding.
Tein set a steady course for Coruscant.
The cockpit lights remained dim. Frost from Rhen Var still clung to the landing struts, crystallized into jagged white scars as vacuum leeched away what little warmth remained. The ship carried the planet with it—cold sunk into the metal, into the air recyclers, into the hum beneath his boots. Tein removed his gloves with deliberate care and rested his bare hands on the controls, feeling the engines through the yoke.
Silence followed him.
It always did.
Not the absence of sound, but the absence of interruption. No chatter. No alerts. No presence pushing back against his awareness. Just space, the ship, and the Force stretched thin across light-years.
This quiet was familiar.
It was the quiet that came after work that left no records.
He reached out with the Force—not to search, but to listen. The engines. The lingering turbulence of hyperspace. The distant glow of life scattered across the galaxy like embers, each world burning quietly, unaware of the others.
And beneath it—
Something hollow.
Tein's gaze drifted toward the secured compartment behind the cockpit.
The artifact lay sealed within a layered containment field of his own design. No fluctuations. No pressure. No hunger. Nothing that would alarm a Jedi accustomed to Force-tainted relics dredged from forgotten vaults and redacted archives.
That was the problem.
It did not feel dark.
It felt absent.
As though a shape had been removed from the Force and left an outline behind. The surrounding currents bent around it without resistance, the way water slid past a void that refused to be filled.
Tein adjusted the containment parameters by a fraction.
Nothing changed.
The tomb on Rhen Var had been ancient beyond classification. Its inscriptions deliberately shattered. Its history erased by intent, not time. Whoever had sealed the artifact had not wanted it studied.
They had wanted it forgotten.
Tein had respected that instinct.
And ignored it.
The summons from the High Council had been immediate. Formal. Calm.
Which meant the Council was curious, not afraid.
To them, the Sith remained history. Qui-Gon Jinn's warning months earlier had unsettled doctrine, but certainty had reasserted itself in the absence of proof. The galaxy had not ended. The Order endured. Therefore the threat—whatever it was—had passed.
Tein did not share that confidence.
He entered Coruscant's orbital traffic flow—then peeled away from it.
Civilian lanes glittered below like regulated rivers of light. Tein climbed instead of descending, slipping into a band of airspace most pilots never realized existed. The city-world unfolded beneath him in layered motion, but he bypassed the main Temple approach entirely.
Instead, he guided the ship toward a narrow gap between ancient spires near the planet's upper strata.
The Force shifted.
Not alarm.
Recognition.
Hidden deep within the Temple's foundations lay an auxiliary landing shaft—older than the current Order, invisible to the public, forgotten by most. Clearance codes changed daily. Few Masters knew it existed.
Tein's codes were accepted without delay.
Stone irised open.
His ship slipped inside.
The shaft sealed behind him, cutting off Coruscant's noise and light in an instant. One moment endless city; the next, enclosed stone and shadow. The platform was dim and unmarked, bare stone reinforced with alloy, untouched by ceremony or welcome.
Tein powered down and disembarked.
No guards.
No aides.
No witnesses.
A single corridor extended from the platform, unlit until faint guide-lights awakened beneath his steps. The air smelled of old stone and restraint—history compacted into something sterile.
This was how a Jedi Shadow returned home.
He moved through hidden passages without escort, ascending through forgotten arteries and sealed stairwells. The Temple above teemed with initiates and Knights, but none crossed his path. Even the architecture seemed to bend, routing him through spaces designed for discretion rather than reverence.
By the time he reached the Council antechamber, only the Force acknowledged his arrival.
The doors opened.
Light washed across the chamber—not warm, not cold, but perfectly balanced. Pale stone curved upward into shadow, the ceiling lost to scale rather than darkness. The air was still. Neutral by design.
Twelve figures sat in a circle of stone.
Not a throne room.
A containment structure.
Their presence in the Force was layered and disciplined—calm not because they were untroubled, but because they believed disturbance could always be identified, categorized, and resolved.
They regarded Tein with interest.
Not suspicion.
"Jedi Shadow Tein," Mace Windu said. His voice carried without effort, edged with authority rather than welcome. "You returned sooner than projected."
"As ordered," Tein replied, inclining his head.
"You were dispatched to Rhen Var," Ki-Adi-Mundi said, leaning forward. "An inhospitable system. Remote. Unstable. What warranted investigation?"
"A tomb," Tein said. "Buried beneath glacial collapse. Its builders erased their own records. Whatever they sealed was meant to disappear."
A pause followed.
Attention sharpened.
"And yet," Shaak Ti said, "you retrieved something."
"Yes," Tein said. "An artifact."
The word settled into the chamber like a weight placed deliberately on a scale.
"Of Sith origin?" Plo Koon asked.
"It employs Force-forged techniques associated with Sith traditions," Tein replied. "But it does not behave as Sith artifacts typically do."
Ki-Adi-Mundi's expression tightened.
"That is not reassurance," he said. "That is ambiguity. And ambiguity is how corruption enters the Order."
"Explain," Windu said, his gaze never leaving Tein.
"Most Sith relics exert pressure," Tein said. "They tempt. They announce intent. This object does none of that."
"Which makes it more dangerous," Ki-Adi-Mundi said sharply. "A silent weapon is still a weapon. The prudent course is destruction."
The Force stirred.
Not agreement.
Not rejection.
Deliberation.
"You would destroy an object you do not understand," Windu said.
"I would eliminate an unknown variable," Ki-Adi-Mundi replied. "The Order exists because we do not indulge mysteries that predate our wisdom."
"I did not collect it," Tein said evenly. "I prevented it from being found by someone else."
"That is not the same as safeguarding it," Ki-Adi-Mundi said. "You are a Shadow, not a vault."
Mace Windu studied Tein for a long moment.
"Sense corruption, you do not," Yoda said at last.
"No," Tein replied. "I sense absence."
That earned him several looks.
"Absence," Ki-Adi-Mundi repeated, unease threading his voice.
"A void in the Force," Tein said. "Not a presence pushing outward. Something the Force moves around. As though a shape has been removed and the currents refuse to fill it."
Silence deepened.
"Dangerous, such a thing may be," Yoda said quietly. "Not because it calls… but because it waits."
Ki-Adi-Mundi folded his hands.
"All the more reason to destroy it."
Mace Windu did not look away from Tein.
"Where is it now?"
"Contained aboard my ship," Tein said. "Layered shielding. Stable parameters."
"And you believe that sufficient," Windu said. Not a question.
"For now," Tein replied.
Windu nodded once.
A decision, not agreement.
"The Sith are extinct," Ki-Adi-Mundi said. "Whatever this is, it is a remnant at best."
"Remnants shape history," Plo Koon said. "Often more subtly than armies."
"The galaxy is not in crisis," Ki-Adi-Mundi insisted. "The Republic stands. The Order stands."
"Confidence," Windu said, voice firm, "is not certainty."
Yoda's gaze shifted between them.
"Watched, the galaxy must be," he said. "But stirred, it must not be."
Windu inclined his head.
"Which brings us to our second matter."
The holoprojector ignited.
Red light spilled across the stone floor.
A world turned slowly in the air.
Before the name was spoken, Tein felt it—not fear, not warning, but weight. Recognition without memory.
"Dathomir," Windu said.
"The Nightsisters," Shaak Ti added. "Ritualized Force practitioners operating outside Jedi and Sith traditions."
"Persistent," Plo Koon said. "Organized. Unafraid of visibility within their own domain."
"Magick shaped communally," Shaak Ti continued. "Power reinforced by shared belief rather than hierarchy."
"Unstable, that is," Ki-Adi-Mundi said. "Belief without doctrine invites excess."
"Or resilience," Windu countered.
Yoda tapped his cane lightly against the stone.
"Seen, they must be," he said. "But touched, they must not."
"Observe only," Ki-Adi-Mundi said. "No engagement. No interference."
"No judgments," Shaak Ti added. "No conclusions drawn prematurely."
Tein inclined his head once. "Understood."
"Careful, you must be," Yoda said softly. "Different, their ways are. Easy, it is, to mistake difference for threat."
"And easier still," Windu said, "to overlook a threat because it does not fit expectation."
Yoda's gaze settled on Tein.
"Chosen, you were," he said. "Because disturb, you do not."
Tein met his eyes.
"That's the point."
A faint, unreadable expression crossed Yoda's face.
"Go, then," he said. "Watch. Learn."
"And return," Windu added, "with information—not interpretation."
Tein bowed.
The doors closed behind him.
⸻
The chamber did not empty all at once.
Masters departed in ones and twos, their presences peeling away from the Force until only two remained. The doors sealed again, soundless.
Silence lingered.
Mace Windu did not turn.
"He withheld something," Windu said.
Yoda's eyes remained half-lidded. "From Rhen Var, you believe."
"Yes," Windu said. "He spoke truth. Not the whole of it."
"Way of a Shadow, that is," Yoda replied. "Separate knowledge, even from those who ask."
"That separation concerns me," Windu said. "He studies the dark without fear—but fear is not the only danger."
"See the Force as spectrum, he does," Yoda said quietly. "Not light. Not dark. But movement between."
"And belief shapes action," Windu said. "If he decides which boundaries matter, we may not see the moment he crosses one."
Yoda exhaled slowly. "Lost, he is not."
"Not yet," Windu agreed. "But prolonged exposure changes perspective."
Yoda opened his eyes fully.
"Watch him, then, we must."
Windu nodded once.
"Closely."
⸻
Hours later, hyperspace claimed Tein's ship again.
Dathomir awaited.
And deep within the hull, the artifact remained silent.
Listening.