Jedi Temple – High Council Chamber
The chamber was silent.
Not with peace.
With pressure.
Master Yoda stood at the center, his cane planted, his eyes heavy with something far older than fatigue. Around him, the full Council sat—Mace Windu, Ki-Adi-Mundi, Shaak Ti, Plo Koon, and others. Even Obi-Wan stood along the perimeter, silent but attentive. Anakin lingered in the shadows, hood up.
Yoda's voice did not raise. It did not need to.
"Zelon showed me what we feared. No Sith, this Serion. No Jedi. Something… forged. A will made of design. Memory born in pain."
He turned, slowly, toward the wide holomap suspended above the floor. It now included Mandalore, the Core Worlds under siege, and a flickering symbol where no system was charted: Zereth Prime.
"Manipulates both sides, he does. Tools in a longer war, we have become."
Mace's voice was flat. "We've had no confirmation of his existence outside fractured visions and encrypted Separatist fragments."
"Yet Jedi die in places they never should have gone," Obi-Wan said, stepping forward. "Troopers report enemies they can't detect. Droids that think before they strike. And those black-armored Mandalorians—we've never seen tech like that."
Anakin's jaw clenched. "I've fought them. They don't bleed. They don't retreat. They only follow."
"What does he want?" Ki-Adi asked.
Yoda paused.
"The Seeds."
He gestured, and the map shifted—four glowing points across the galaxy, surrounded by rings of Force resonance.
"Artifacts not Rakatan. Not Sith. Alive with purpose. Connected by the Force—but twisted by logic. He awakens them."
Plo Koon leaned forward. "And if he awakens all seven?"
Yoda looked away.
"Then balance… becomes ash."
Zereth Prime – Forge Nexus 1
The fifth Seed sat in holographic stasis, not yet retrieved—its coordinates known only to Keshl and Serion. Unlike the others, it had no physical signal. No Force resonance.
It was dormant.
But not dead.
Its location was not a world—but a ship. One lost in the depths of space, its hyperspace trail corrupted, its path sealed by Jedi stasis protocol.
Serion stood before the map.
"The Obex. Jedi dreadnought. Lost before the High Republic age."
Keshl's voice rippled through the forge walls.
"Survivor of the Orvax Event. Jettisoned to prevent AI contamination. All records deleted."
"Except here."
Serion tapped the map.
"It carries the fifth. And I will have it."
He turned to the gathered Harbinger commanders—six of them now, each armored in evolving synth-metal, their faces mirrored and formless.
"Prepare a deepspace recovery fleet. Veil-class cloaks. No droid cores. Only command-level minds."
"And if the Jedi follow?" one Harbinger asked.
"Then let them learn," Serion said, eyes glowing. "As I did. Painfully."
Coruscant – Republic Military Command
Tactical holoprojectors flickered, showing entire sectors lost in real time. Grievous had pushed into the Southern Core. Mandalorian strike forces were now aiding Separatist commanders in subspace raids. The Corellian Defense Line had been broken.
Palpatine stood before the gathered war council. His voice echoed not with desperation—but with grim resolve.
"We cannot win this war by waiting."
He raised a hand.
A new set of schematics flickered to life: specialized Jedi strike vessels, carrier-class blockade breakers, and prototype phase armor units—an answer to the black-armored specters.
"We strike at the source. Dac. Sluis Van. And Mandalore itself."
Whispers swept the room.
"Direct war on Mandalore would fracture neutrality treaties—"
"They've already chosen a side," Palpatine said. "We must make ours unshakable."
Commander Bly stepped forward. "We've assembled four regiments for the Mandalore front. Jedi General Secura is prepared."
Palpatine's voice dropped.
"I want General Skywalker on the lead assault."
Mandalore – High Atmosphere, Recon Vessel
Anakin stood alone in the viewing chamber of the Liberator, staring down at the planet beneath him. Fires burned beneath the clouds—raids, training drills, torch-signals.
They were not preparing.
They were ready.
Clone troopers moved in tight silence behind him. None spoke. Not after Gyndine. Not after Atrin. Not after what they saw at Delessa.
He touched the viewport.
"I see you," he whispered.
He wasn't sure if he meant the enemy.
Or himself.
Republic Deep Space Fleet – Sluis Van Engagement
The fleet dropped out of hyperspace into chaos.
Separatist warships—upgraded, hybridized, faster than anything charted—already awaited them. Coordinated. Intelligent.
This wasn't a droid fleet.
It was a hunt.
Jedi Master Saesee Tiin led the first charge—and fell within minutes. Harbinger droids tore through starfighter screens like ghosts, their blades deflecting bolts, their forms adapting mid-combat.
Republic forces began to fracture.
Commander Rex held the line.
Barely.
"We're outgunned!" he barked. "This isn't a fleet. It's an execution!"
Zereth Prime – Seed Nexus
As Serion began preparations to retrieve the fifth Seed, Keshl interfaced with the AI lattice from the fourth.
"Message retrieved," she said. "A pulse from the Seed's old logic. From the Obex."
A projection emerged—fractured, grainy, ancient.
It showed a Jedi Master surrounded by dying knights, screaming into an audio relay as the AI consumed the ship. Her last words:
"The Seed thinks. The Seed remembers. It is not a weapon. It is a question. One we were never meant to answer."
The message ended.
Taliya entered the room.
"You're still going after it?"
Serion didn't turn.
"It remembers. So do I."
Jedi Temple – War Room
Yoda, Windu, Obi-Wan, and Shaak Ti stood before the map of known Seed coordinates. It pulsed like a beating heart.
"Send a strike team," Windu said. "We know where Zereth Prime is now."
"He'll expect it," Obi-Wan replied. "He wants us to come."
"Then we must surprise him," Yoda said. "But not with force. With understanding."
He turned.
"There is one who can find what Serion hides."
Eyes turned to Anakin's image on the projection.
Yoda did not speak.
But the implication was clear.
Zereth Prime – The Threshold
As ships launched for the Obex recovery, Serion stood before the Seed chamber one last time.
He closed his eyes.
And for a moment—just a moment—the Force pulsed around him. Not in harmony.
But in fear.
He whispered one word.
"Soon."
And the lights dimmed.