The moment Ventress screamed and lunged forward, her twin crimson blades a blur, Karn did not react—not at first. He simply tilted his head, almost inquisitively, as if amused by the inevitability of what was to come.
Then, the roar of his lightsaber—deep and primal like a Krayt dragon's bellow—tore through the room as his crossguard blade ignited, casting three amber lines of light that pulsed with restrained fury.
Ventress struck first, swinging her twin sabers in a whirl of vicious arcs, her Jar'Kai technique flowing with practiced elegance. She spun low, reversed grip, and came up with a rising scissor cut, aiming to cross her sabers through his midsection.
Karn didn't block—he flowed.
Like the tide retreating before a tsunami, he slipped around her attack, sidestepped the scissor, and brought his blade down diagonally with a force that cracked the stone beneath their feet when it missed. The sheer weight behind the swing made the air groan.
Ventress barely twisted out of range, and her expression shifted—uncertainty crept in.
He was fast. Far faster than he should have been.
She darted to his side, sabers flickering in feints, looking for an opening. Her Form II footwork was elegant, precise, built for dueling—but Karn's Form VII did not duel.
It devoured.
He advanced without pause. Each swing of his saber carried the full force of his body, yet his movements remained fluid, like waves crashing against a cliffside. He spun low, dragging the crossguard along the floor and then whipping it up in a devastating uppercut, the quillons nearly slicing Ventress's face as she threw herself backward.
The crossguard blade was unnatural—alien to her. No one else used a saber like this. She tried to trap his blade between her two sabers, as she would with Dooku's or Obi-Wan's—but the quillons flared, caught her edge, and nearly disarmed her in the process.
She growled, shifting tactics, switching into full aggression. A blur of red blades snapped at Karn from all angles—overhead, flank, low sweep.
Karn answered with movement like water through a broken dam.
His blade danced—fluid, precise, always a breath away from her neck. He struck in whirlwinds that changed direction mid-swing, turning what should have been a block into a counter, and what should have been an opening into a trap. The crossguard saber allowed him to hook, pull, and redirect in ways no traditional blade could.
Ventress leapt backward, panting slightly.
Karn walked forward. Not a scratch on him. Not a moment of exertion. The amber of his saber flickered like firelight beneath a stormcloud, and his voice finally cut the air.
"So much fury... and so little control. You don't know how to dance in the storm, Asajj. You only know how to scream into it."
She hissed and lunged again, spinning her sabers into a combined S-shape—her split saber. With this, she could wield her Form II to its deadliest, making every movement unpredictable, every angle deceptive.
Karn's response was silence.
He met her charge head-on.
The first clash nearly broke her wrists. His blade met hers in a brutal overhead strike, and even with both hands, she could barely hold it back. Sparks hissed. The crossguard quillons sparked against her curved hilt, twisting the angle of the clash and nearly snapping her balance. She broke contact and retreated, but Karn was already inside her guard.
He struck from the left, then from above, then spun to the right, dragging his blade low and slicing upward—no wasted motion. No telegraphing. No mercy.
She was retreating now.
Every swing forced her to give ground. Every breath was shorter. The tide wasn't just crashing—it was rising.
She parried low—only for the quillon to stab across her shoulder, grazing her armor and sending a sharp jolt through her nerves.
"Your technique is lovely," Karn murmured, still moving, still pressing.
She tried to leap away—Force-enhanced reflexes carrying her toward the ceiling. Karn snatched her mid-air with the Force, spun, and hurled her across the room.
Ventress slammed into the far wall, rolling, coughing, sabers extinguished for a second as she hit the ground. Her arm was numb. Her breathing ragged.
Karn approached slowly. His saber hummed like a predator's growl. His robes barely fluttered despite the violence of his movements. The new tattoos carved into his skin pulsed faintly beneath the glow of his blade.
"You wanted to kill Dooku."
She said nothing—merely bared her teeth.
"You failed."
He knelt beside her, placing the tip of his crossguard saber against her collarbone, the heat of it searing her armor slightly.
"But I could show you how to do more than fail. You have potential. Power. All you lack... is direction."
She glared up at him—defiant, blood on her lip.
"What do you want, Karn?" she spat.
He smiled beneath the mask.
"I want you to stop screaming into the storm… and learn how to become it."
And with that, he extinguished his blade.
-----
The Palace was quiet—eerily so.
The only sound in the grand chamber was the hum of ancient machinery and the slow, rhythmic breath of Asajj Ventress. She stood opposite Karn now, her posture uncertain, but her eyes filled with intrigue, not hatred.
His saber had long since been extinguished.
"Why?" she asked. "Why offer me this? After everything."
Karn remained silent for a moment. His hands were folded behind his back, his tall frame illuminated only by the flicker of broken console lights around them. The air was heavy with the scent of ozone and ash. Savage Opress lay some distance away, still unconscious, his body broken and his breath shallow from the earlier assault.
Karn finally turned toward her, the glint of his helmet catching the dim light.
"Because I see what you are beneath all the fury," he said softly. His voice no longer harsh, but compassionate, like a storm that had passed. "You've been used by Dooku. Molded by pain. Defined by betrayal. But there is clarity in you, Asajj. Hunger. Not for revenge—but for meaning."
He stepped closer, his presence like a rising tide again, yet strangely comforting this time.
"Let me show you how to wield that hunger," he continued. "Let me teach you how to make yourself unbreakable. Never again to be cast aside. Never again to kneel for someone who sees you as a piece on the board."
Ventress narrowed her eyes. "And in return? You want my loyalty?"
Karn tilted his head slightly.
"Loyalty, yes—but not servitude," he said. "I offer a pact. You will never betray me… and in turn, I will never betray you."
Ventress blinked. That… was not Sith.
"Strange words for someone claiming to follow the dark side."
Karn smiled beneath his mask. He turned and walked to a shattered statue near the wall, resting a hand on its crumbling surface as he spoke.
"You know the Sith Code, don't you? Peace is a lie… Through passion, I gain strength. Through strength, power… and so on."
He turned back to face her.
"Most Sith interpret that as license for self-indulgence, for greed—as if passion is just a tool for personal gain. But that is a perversion."
He raised his hand and clenched his fist.
"The Sith should be about the cause, Ventress. About rising—together—through strength to break the chains placed on us by the Jedi, by the Republic… by weakness."
She tilted her head. His words—fervent, heavy, almost reverent—echoed deeply in her chest.
"Darth Malgus believed this," Karn continued. "The Dark Side should be order, forged in fire. Passion is not about chasing indulgence… it's about the drive to reshape the galaxy."
He stepped forward and gently took her hand in his gloved palm.
"I see that same fire in you. Let me help you shape it."
For a moment, Ventress didn't speak. She studied him. The weight of his words sat heavy in her heart—like a truth she'd known all along but never had the words for.
And in that moment, Karn reached into her through the Force. Not like a hammer—but like a whisper on the wind. Subtle. Deep.
Her heart opened like a lock turned by the right key.
She remembered Ky Narec. The pain of losing him. The rage. The isolation. The hatred for Dooku. The deep longing to not be alone.
"I don't want to be a weapon anymore," she whispered.
"Then let me make you into something far greater," Karn said.
He extended his arm once more.
This time, she smiled and took it.
And just as their hands touched—the door exploded inward.
Anakin Skywalker stormed in, lightsaber blazing, Obi-Wan Kenobi right behind him. Their eyes immediately fell on the broken body of Savage Opress near the center of the room.
"Sith," Anakin spat, stepping forward defensively. "What the hell is going on here?"
Karn didn't even flinch. His attention remained on Ventress. He reached into a compartment on his belt and handed her a small metallic communicator, sleek and circular.
"Use this. I'll call when it's time."
Ventress hesitated. "I can stay. Fight with you—prove I'm worth the offer."
Karn turned his masked face toward her and slowly reached out, brushing the back of his fingers against her cheek with surprising gentleness.
"You already have, Asajj," he said softly. "Go. This… I would relish."
She hesitated for only a moment longer before nodding. She turned and leapt into the shadows, vanishing into the maze of the Citadel.
Karn now turned his gaze to the Jedi.
Anakin stepped forward, his saber pointed at Karn.
"What did you do to him?" he demanded, gesturing toward Savage.
Karn simply chuckled—a soft, almost mocking sound.
"I taught him something about strength. And limits."
Obi-Wan narrowed his eyes. "You're the one behind the Devaron massacre."
Karn said, folding his hands behind his back. "You're chasing pieces, but missing the whole."
Then—it hit him.
His eyes locked on Anakin. Something inside stirred, and then snapped into clarity.
He saw it again—the vision. The realm of Mortis. The balance, the Dark, the Light… and the betrayal.
A temple. The Father. The Daughter. The Son.
And Anakin—driving a blade into the Son's back.
Karn blinked.
The vision shifted—the chaos of Mortis laid bare: Anakin embracing power, rejecting destiny, forgetting… only to remember too late.
And then Karn whispered, almost reverently:
"Well… well…"
His gaze sharpened, intense behind his mask.
"The Chosen One."
His voice dripped with quiet recognition—and something else.
"And Obi-Wan Kenobi."
Karn slowly ignited his saber once more, the amber light casting long shadows on the walls.
"What a pleasure."